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ladydracarysao3 · 8 years ago

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In Love, Serenity

Chapter Eighteen: Addicted

Chapter Summary Rhaegar Hawke is a notorious, sarcastic playboy, but he finds himself bewitched by a woman who appears to despise him. He had one taste of her and like a drug addict, he has to score another hit.

Notes That, and I think Hawke doesn't like being told, No.

So this chapter does not have background music, but I do have a lyrical (?) song to share if you're interested. It is major inspiration for Hawke's obsession with Abner.

Take Me To Church - Hozier (However, I prefer the Elli Goulding Cover but Rhaegar Hawke My husband insists on the original.)

Listen, this chapter has smut at the end, but you can totally skip it if that's not your bag, it will not affect the story for you at all. So, if you are one who prefers to refrain from such dirty things, when you see the ***** and a break, the chapter is done!

For those of you who continue on, much like the first smutty chapter, this one switches perspective, because... it just does... I don't know why I do it, but apparently it's a thing I do now.

Enjoy! Comments, likes, and reblogs are loved and adored :)

[Read Chapter 18 on AO3] or [Start from the Beginning]

-Hawke-

“So then Krem says, ‘I bet you can’t get all three of those red heads to bed you tonight.’ Let’s just say, he was buying all of my rounds for a week!” Iron Bull laughs with such a booming vigor that he has to clutch his stomach, head arched back, teeth glinting in the flickering fire light. Bull has been swapping stories and telling jokes with Abner ever since the fire was set. She laughs with him, but Hawke notices – though she clearly tries to hide it – that she favors her left side. Favoring the ribs that had been smashed not two days before by a brut… her husband.

She really shouldn’t try to be so tough. Granted, Hawke would act the same way if it was he who had taken the crippling blow. He stretches his shoulders back at the thought, the fresh scars on his back are still painfully sore from when the demon ripped through his armor as if he was made of butter. While he can appreciate her obstinacy, she needs to take the proper time for rest that Solas had instructed. With everything she just went through, it is amazing she can even walk. Instead, she insists on pretending that she feels great and that nothing catastrophic just happened to her.

Ever since Solas fixed her broken bones, however, she has been different. Lighter. Though, she has yet to address the fact that they all just watched her bathe in the blood of her husband. In fact, she still has some of his blood on her… How can they act like she is okay? How can she make jokes with Bull at a time like this? How can they go along with it? He’s not sure why, but they do.

They all do.

“Mmmm,” Abner smiles into the stars as if she is picturing something beautiful hanging in front of her. “I am a sucker for a red head. Can be a man, a woman, a dwarf, human, elf…shit, I’d even give you a go if you had crimson hair flowing from that head, Bull.”

Smiling to himself, Hawke feels his self-assured arrogance flourish with her words. He has never felt so appreciative of his auburn hair as he does in this moment. Hawke was unaware of her fetish before, perhaps he can use it to his advantage.

“You know, Bers… I bet there is a spell for that. Damn, I’d even wear a wig.” Iron Bull purrs as he leans in toward Abner with want and desire radiating from his one good eye.

Inwardly, Hawke blazes with jealousy. The nerve of the qunari, Hawke is sitting right here. Sure, he doesn’t have any official claim on Abner, but he wants to. It is pretty fucking obvious that he is attracted to her, and that they have an intense, albeit limited, history.

He can’t help himself, he has to attempt to claim her. No matter how much he does not deserve it, and shouldn’t try, he wants to. Hawke has never been one to abstain from his wants, no matter how dangerous they are.

Clearing his throat as challenging and superior as he can muster, Hawke springs a look of perturbed irritation on his face. Interrupting their ardent banter, they both turn their gaze to him, brows cocked, Abner’s eyes annoyed and expectant. Suddenly, with her gaze on him, all of the air within his body… leaves.

Momentarily, he loses his train of thought. Instead of a witty retort, he babbles like an incoherent moron. “I… uh… well…That is to say… I don’t think Abner needs anymore redheads… in this camp, anyway,” he awkwardly utters. As soon as his mouth shuts, he rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed with his own incompetence.

Smooth. Real smooth… Jackass…

Now she is looking at him with both pity and a half crooked smile. Like Hawke is nothing but a child throwing a tantrum, threatening to take his toys and go home. Well, he does want to take her and go. She is a wonderful, enticing, and feral creature that Hawke wants to play with, and those desires do not involve the qunari sitting to her right. Hawke can feel the pout sulking on his face, and he tries to correct it with a more flirtatious look in her direction. He raises a single eyebrow, places a fist on his hip, and thinks to himself a mantra of, Look dashing. Look dashing. Look dashing.

She is not impressed. Rather, she slowly closes her eyes, obviously rolling them behind her lids. As she opens them again, they stay narrowed, cutting through him with an apathetic precision that slices his heart. Has she lost all interest? Will she ever again look at him the way she did that first night?

She must have felt the raw, primal connection they shared, why push him away? Perhaps it was her Avvar secret… her secret marriage… and something about being half-blooded? Maybe? He doesn’t know, but the crazy, mabari war hound is out of the bag now, so why is she still so cold?

She is such a mystery. He barely knows anything about her…yet… he can’t get her out of his head. This never happens to him. He doesn’t obsess and fall over himself for the attention of a woman. He looks like a Maker damned fool. This is ridiculous, he has known many women. Droves of women. He’s unsure what Abner has done to him… but that feral, wild, and wicked look behind her eyes drives him crazy with want. He feels a kinship with her, like no other. Her presence makes him want to do things… bad things… naughty things… despicable things… Not that a woman has never made him feel lustful, honestly, they all have. The other feelings he has for her, however, are quite unique. Abner instills a need in him to be tender… loving.

She is a Goddess. He would worship at her feet like a dog. The Lady of the Forest. As she calms the rabid mind of a wolf, she accentuates both his ferocity and his compassion.

Hawke needs to know everything about her. He needs her to look at him, smile, and share all of her secrets. Allow him to share the load of her burdens. Crack jokes with her, fight beside her, share stories, hold her, stare at the beautiful wildfire that lives in her eyes, and make love to her every night before she sleeps. He has never been so quickly transfixed by a woman, but she has bewitched him - mind, body, and soul.

He would gladly move mountains for her, if it meant she would look at him the way she did when they first met. What he would not give to go back to that night, when she was carefree and comfortable. That must return. She is like drug and he is happily addicted. He needs another fix, to rapture in her glow. He had that one precious taste of her spirit, and like a fiend, he is desperate for more.

She gets up from her spot at the fire, “I’m goin’ to bed.” She cuts her eyes at Hawke, razor sharp daggers searing into the depths his soul. He wants to follow her, but with all the seriousness of a mage going into a harrowing, she says, “Alone.” Begrudgingly, he watches her as she heads to her tent, wishing he could follow, annoyed that he cannot.

Izzalea walks in front of him in that moment, obstructing his view of Abner’s tent. Stretching and groaning, Izzy is oblivious to his desperate yearning to recapture her scout. “Maker’s balls, I am so sick of this swamp. At least the rain finally stopped. Though, I wonder for how long.” She sighs and plops down on a log beside him. “How amazing would it be to have our gear actually dry out?” She gently ribs him with her elbow.

“I’m not sure what good it would do. We all stink and are covered in blood and guts anyway,” Bull grunts.

No one has been able to bathe since they arrived. Not really, anyway. The marsh is full of the undead, and the water is disgusting. There is nothing around to clean themselves with, so they wipe off as best as they can and persevere. Everyone could do well with a warm bath, a dry bed, and a decent meal.

That gives him an idea. “I think we need to let everyone have a well-deserved break from the bullshit,” Hawke winks at Iron Bull who takes obvious offence to his well-directed snark. “And we all deserve respite from having to smell the especially noxious qunari.”

Bull’s nostrils flare as he begins to glare and, possibly unknowingly, tilt his horns in Hawke’s direction. This just fuels his fire, “Say Bull, you‘re part beast or something, aren’t you? I mean that’s why you have horns and all of that, right? Should you not be able to lick yourself clean?” Hawke feels wickedly proud of himself, retaliation for hitting on Abner.

“RRRRRRAH! ENOUGH!” Bull growls and bellows at Hawke as he sharply rises to his feet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Izzalea raises her hand to stop Bull from a charge. She punches Hawke roughly in the shoulder as he continues to taunt the horned goat-man with a malicious smirk. “Knock it off, Hawke.” As Bull sits back down, glowering, Izzy sighs in irritation, “What was your point, Hawke? Without any additional of insults, preferably.” She cuts her eyes at him. With all of this love and adoration, he feels as if he’s back in Kirkwall.

He sits up straight, tugging at his tunic proudly and winks at Bull again, who in turn rolls his eye. Pivoting to Izzy, he unfolds his plan, “There was a town, Sothmere, not far from the bog. I bet they have an inn there. What do you say we stop there, rest, wash ourselves, and have a decent meal?”

“Oh that sounds wonderful!” Izzy squeals, Hawke didn’t even know this woman could emit a sound so high-pitched. However, her disposition immediately plummets, “But Josie didn’t give me the funds for that sort of thing,” she says as she drops her head down, resting it in her palm with her elbow leaned on her knee. She looks like Hawke had promised her a ride on a griffon only to laugh in her face and tell her they’re extinct.

“Ah, well… fear not your Inquisitorialness! It will be my treat. My gift to the Inquisition and all of that,” he says as he smiles at her, mockingly putting-on-airs and twirling his fingers about.

She sits up straight again, grinning ear to ear, “Thank you, Hawke! Are you sure you want to spend your coin on that? Once we get out of the bog it will only be a few nights before we reach Skyhold.”

Honestly, or obviously, Hawke has his own agenda. He seeks privacy with Abner before they return to the keep. With all of the bustle that goes on there, it would be easy for her to slip away, disappearing from his grasp forever. Plus, he will be leaving again, this time for the Western Approach, almost immediately upon return. He cannot risk losing the chance to talk to her. Perhaps he should attempt to apologize… or something… He still doesn’t know what he did, but apologies tend to do wonders with the fairer sex. Really, he’s willing to do anything if it means he has the chance to experience her charms again.

Hawke winks at Izzalea and bumps his shoulder into hers, “Really Izzy? Do you really want to arrive in Skyhold to face your dapper and handsome Commander, while smelling like a death bog?”

Izzalea grimaces at the thought and shakes her head. “No.”

“Then the inn it is! We deserve it,” he smiles at her and rises to his feet. He flashes a brief, smug nod to Iron Bull before turning on his heel to head to his tent for the night. As he strides away, he calls back to his companions over his shoulder, “It will be something for us to look forward to as we fight our way out of this revolting marsh.”

The next day is slow going. Even though they finally leave the bog behind, the steady pace needed to keep it easy on the wounded, tired soldiers seems to make their travel drag on forever. There were not enough horses for everyone, so the worst of the lot were propped on steeds and lead by the rest at a slow, even march. They still manage to arrive in Sothmere by the next evening, however. Like the Maker shining his light down upon them, they see the inn from a distance, and everyone’s mood revitalizes.

As members of their entourage clean themselves, they slip into the cleanest, most comfortable clothes they can find in their gear, and trickle into the inn’s tavern for drink, food, and relaxation. Hawke practically skips down the steps from the inn rooms to the tavern floor. His light, linen tunic and slacks feel fresh and easy on his newly washed skin. He walks up to the bar to order himself a much needed drink.

A beautiful barmaid walks up to Hawke, smiling a lovely, toothy grin and crinkling the freckles spread across her nose as she winks at him in hello. She has a light, sunny, red hue to her wavy hair that cascades over her shoulders. Her breasts are hoisted quite high due to some kind of brown, leather, corset contraption underneath that Hawke doesn’t understand, but greatly appreciates. While a linen chemise is below, barely keeping her breasts from being displayed bare, in all of their glory. She catches him staring and laughs while shaking her head, “’Ello there, handsome stranger, what can I do yis for?” She has a rich, friendly Starkhaven brogue that almost makes Hawke long for the Free Marches, and the other lovely lady there with a similar accent.

He smirks coyly at the maiden. He drops his voice to a low, playful rumble, “How about a glass of your finest red, my lady?”

“Oh, yous a cheeky one, eh?” she flirts, “Not sure how fine it is foryis, but I might have a bottle of sumptin in the back.” He watches as she walks through a door into the tavern’s store room. A pale green skirt flits around as she walks, but Hawke still enjoys the view of her bum swaying before she disappears into the room.

When she returns, she displays a proud smile on her glowing, pale, freckled face. “This’ll have to do, big spender,” she winks at him as she pours a glass into a goblet. “Best we got.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” he coos back to her, all the while he obviously drinks her in with his eyes.

She giggles at him while handing his goblet over, he slides his coin across the wooden counter. As he drinks, the wine hits that very particular and unfortunate spot at the back of his throat, causing him to cough uncontrollably. While he was trying to appear suave for the barmaid, instead he hacks and dribbles red wine down the front of his pale linen shirt.

She covers her mouth with her hands but laughs hysterically at his discomfort. Hawke sighs, taking his wine and his shame to find the rest of his cleaned companions in the tavern. It does not take long, as he sees a table with Izzy, Bull, Cole, Solas, and a couple of the rescued Inquisition soldiers sitting at a long table not very far from the bar. He joins them and enjoys some light banter, however, Hawke notices a far off stare in Izzalea’s sage colored eyes.

“Something weighing on your mind, Izzy?” Hawke asks just before taking a swig of his wine.

“I just…” her voice trails off as quickly as it begins.

“What is it boss?” Iron Bull asks, looking concerned from the end of the table.

“I just don’t understand how that… Thing, could have been married to Abner,” Izzalea speaks slowly and cautiously, keeping her stare on the table, eyes searching the woodgrain for answers.

“It’s possible that it wasn’t her choice,” Bull says gravely. Izzeala turns her head to look at the Qunari. “The thing is, well as far as I’ve heard, it’s how they get their brides to the wedding ceremony…” Bull says plainly. “They abduct her.”

Hawke feels the color rush from his face and feels sick to his stomach, followed quickly by outrage. He growls inwardly, “They what?” The thought of a young Abner being abducted and forced to marry that man sickens him.

“Well, to my understanding it’s just a custom. The groom has to prove himself to her family by successfully taking her from them. The marriage is supposed to be worked out and agreed upon before, and the bride can even help him if she wants. The ritual was explained to me once when the Chargers where working near an Avvar strong hold. They talked about it like it was fun, a test of valor.” Bull drops his eyes from the table and takes a drink from his tankard. Shuddering to himself he continues, “But I get the feeling that our friend may not have been so keen on the idea…”

Cole quietly murmurs while his face is tipped downward and a frown shapes his lips, “Not a game to her…”

“I do not think it prudent to speculate how she was married or how she felt about it, The Iron Bull. Imparting Avvar customs to our friends here is one thing, speculations of Abner’s private affairs is quite another,” Solas calmly and coolly scolds Bull, who in turn shoots a glare and releases a low grunt at the elf.

Izzalea groans with guilt written plainly on her face, she runs her fingers through her wet hair, shaking it out as she does. “Solas is right…we should change the subject. I am sorry for bringing it up.”

Iron Bull watches Izzalea idly play with her auburn tresses, a twinkle shines in his eyes as he looks past her and to the lovely barmaid beyond. “How about we take bets as to whether I can seduce that gorgeous redhead serving drinks at the bar?” He looks at the woman with a hunger in his eye and a smirk on his face.

The two soldiers at the table look at the woman and then eye the enormous Iron Bull up and down. “I will take that bet,” one says.

The other chuckles, “Yeah, me too. I think she will take one look at you and turn the other direction.”

Bull laughs proudly to himself, “You men of little faith. Prepare to lose your coin…” He starts to rise from his chair only to freeze in place because of something he sees. His jaw slacks, surprise shining in his eye. He slowly eases back down without dropping his gaze from what has shocked him.

“What’s wrong Bull, lost your nerve?” Hawke chuckles as he turns his head to follow Bull’s line of sight.

And then he sees her.

Abner is slowly slinking down the steps from the inn’s rooms and into the tavern.

She is a vision.

Her thick and dreaded hair is pulled back into a large messy knot, or bun, or whatever you call it with hair like hers. She has fresh kohl marked around her eyes, matching her black tattoos, and her skin tight, black leather breeches. A look that is seductively dangerous.

And her tunic… it is scandalous.

Obviously, they did not have the means to bring a wardrobe on this mission, but she is wearing a mere sheath of a top. Sleeveless and thin, it drapes and flows loosely from her shoulders. The color is lighter than her skin… and maker is that material thin. Painfully thin. Hawke begins to doubt if she even knows what a breast band is…

Hawke’s loins tighten and quiver at the sight of her. He licks his lips as he suddenly feels parched, but he cannot avert his stare. Barefooted, she lightly and gracefully pads up to the bar. He finds it hard to contain himself as he hopes she comes to their table soon. He cunningly pushes back the chair next to him, hoping she will grace it with her exquisite behind.

She leans on the counter and smiles seductively at the light, crimson haired barmaid. Hawke’s heart starts to plummet into the abyss as she stays there, standing with the maid. She receives her ale, but she stays. The maid giggles and blushes at something Abner says. She looks as sly as a cat flirting with a fish in a bowl.

“Looks like you will be paying us coin, Iron Bull,” Hawke hears one of the soldiers snort from behind him.

He turns to look at Bull as he grunts disapprovingly at the soldier. “How could I to get in the way of that.” He sighs in capitulation, “She deserves some fun…”

The conversations ebb and flow at the table, all the while, Abner never joins them. Hawke tries his hardest not to stare at her, but it is difficult. Ultimately, he ends up sullenly pouting and studying the wood pattern on his goblet in front of him. He surrenders his attempt to not watch her and looks back toward the bar, only to feel a shot of anxiety in his chest. She is gone.

Searching the room with panicked eyes, Hawke looks for her figure, but finds nothing. She must have gone up to bed. How is he to make amends with her if he never gets a chance to talk to her? He must find her. He must speak with her.

Excusing himself from the table, he decides to search her out. He nods to his companions, wishing them a pleasant evening and a good sleep. He jokingly advises Bull to not poke any holes in his pillows with his horns, as he doesn’t want to spend the extra coin to clean the feathers and replace the linens. Before Bull can retaliate with an equally damning insult, Hawke smugly makes his way up the stairs.

Thankfully, since he purchased the rooms, he also handed out the keys. Hawke quickly finds her door and raps his knuckles on the wood in the most charming way he can possibly muster.

Hearing muffled voices from the other side, he wonders if she not alone. There is a pit in his stomach, but then the door begins to open. The beautiful, yet sour, face of Hawke’s Avvar Goddess is staring up at him. He has displeased her, yet again, with his presence.

She cocks her head to the side, folds her arms at her chest, and taps her foot. “What do you want, Hawke… I’m a little busy…” she spits her words like venom.

Looking past her, he sees that the redheaded barmaid is in the bed, holding a sheet against her chest and between her bare shoulders. Interestingly enough her look is not of disdain, the maid is actually tracing her eyes over Hawke’s body with a delicious smirk on her lips, and lustful bedroom eyes.

“Oh Abi, are ya havin’ that? Just look at’im. He’s right fit innit he?” the maiden hums as she locks eyes with him and they both raise an eyebrow at each other. Oh, this is very interesting, indeed. Hawke can work with this. He had wanted to make amends with Abner, but he could easily be persuaded as to how he should accomplish the task.

Hawke winks slyly at the maiden in the sheets before looking down to his raven haired beauty. Leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and cocking his brow, Hawke rumbles in the most suggestive and sarcastic way possible, “Abi?”

“Not a word, Hawke,” she says curtly, but he detects the slightest hint of amusement in her eyes. The wall she has put between them is starting to chip. She sighs, “Why are you here?”

He smiles at her. “Well, I wanted to kiss and make up… But I see now that perhaps we can do so much more than just that.” There is slightest twitch of a smile on the corner of her mouth, hope springs within him. She is not as discontent with him as she tries to appear.

The crimson maid on the bed squeals with delight and pleads with ‘Abi’ to let him in. He continues to lean on the doorframe as smug as the Nug King himself. Abner’s eyes never leave his. He watches as the fire burning within them slowly morphs from contempt into desire. She is internally weighing her options, and her decision seems to be leaning in Hawke’s favor.

She licks and bites at her lip. His breath intensifies. She takes one step toward him with a smile on her wicked, gorgeous face.

Barely audible, except to her, he asks, “How are your ribs?”

“Much better, don’t worry about them,” her voice is in that low sexy tone he has been yearning to hear.

Hawke seizes that moment. Without diverting their lustful gaze, he swiftly scoops her up into his arms. She hooks her legs around his waist like they belong there, and he carries her into the room. Pivoting, Hawke uses his boot to knock the door closed and roughly presses her against it.

She is raised above him just enough to give Hawke easy access to her neck. He ghosts his lips over tan flesh, lightly breathing hot breath on her skin as she squeezes him tightly between her thighs. He looks up at her as thunderous desire rumbles in his chest. She peers down into his burning soul, her fingers entwine in his hair and tug lightly at his beard.

She is looking at Hawke as she did the first time she was in his arms. He is overcome with bliss and hunger. She is his again, but he needs to ensure it stays this way.

The maiden behind him calls out, “Ay, what about me?”

Hawkes eyes flow ravenously over the enticing, warm, tanned skin of the goddess in his arms and wrapped around his body. In a low husk he responds, “Just a moment, love…”

Hawke leans in to tenderly whisper a kiss onto the nape Abner’s neck. “I just need to…”

As soft as a dropping flower petal, he presses a kiss upon her left shoulder. “Tell our beautiful friend…”

Her chest begins to heave… a kiss for her right shoulder. “How sorry…”

She shudders beneath his lips as he places a kiss on the other side of her neck. Looking back into her gorgeous dark eyes, he knows he burns for her as much as her eyes convey she burns for him. “I am.”

Abner’s teeth tug at her lower lip as she smiles at Hawke, before meeting her lips with his. Fire roars within his body. Electricity sparks as the touching of their skin ignites an insatiable thirst within him.

Hawke quivers in her presence, as he tastes her drug again.

*****

She tried to push him away, but he is a persistent little fucker.

Fine. If Hawke really wants to keep, whatever this is, going… Abner will play along.

For now.

After his finishes tenderly kissing her, and apologizing for… something? She’s not sure what for, but right now she doesn’t care. He loses control and begins to ravage her in his arms.

He is like a rabid animal. His long, messy, red tresses are still damp to her touch. His untamed beard tickles her skin as he glides wet, passionate kisses along her neck, chest, and shoulders. Leaving her slick, reddened, and dotted with small love bites. He comes up for air and looks at her while panting. His lips parted, his stormy, blue eyes, dark and animalistic.

He may be the sexiest man alive.

Abner shudders under his touch. He holds her above him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the heat between them pressed firmly against his wash-board stomach. He has her pressed roughly against the door to her room. With a ragged moan he forces her hips down past his and presses his hard length against her heat. Excitement shoots through Abner’s body, a shiver dancing down her spine at the feel of him between her legs. Panting and rutting against each other in rhythm, she can’t wait too feel him inside her again.

Grinding and rutting against her, he bites at her shoulder. She tips her head back against the door and moans from deep within her, biting her lip in the process. She is drunk on him. Abner almost loses herself completely, almost forgets the other crimson haired minx in the room.

Her body slightly rises and falls, with Hawke repetitively pressing his cock against her. She sees stars as he tugs and licks at her ear. Her nails dig into his chiseled, scarred back and her jaw slacks, lips parted as she lowers her gaze to the beautiful treasure waiting for them on the bed.

She has a pleasure-filled, pained look on her sweet face. Her green eyes, doe-like. Her brows, pinched. Her pretty, pink lips, open. Her body is writhing slowly on the bed as Abner’s eyes follow the curves of her freckled, pale skin all the way to her activity.

Before Hawke came to the door, Abner had helped the maiden lose her garments. But she has now shed the sheet that was once modestly draped over her when Abner answered his knock. Patiently she waits, watching them rut and moan against the door. The maiden’s knees bent, her legs spread, one hand lightly rubbing her clit, the other delicately tracing her fingertips along her lips.

She looks delicious.

“Hawke…” A ragged whisper grips from Abner’s throat into his ear, “Don’t forget our friend.” She gently places his chin between thumb and forefinger, turning his head to see the vixen on the bed.

“Perish the thought,” he growls, voice rich with desire. Easing Abner down, he allows her to leave their position and slowly pad up to the temptress who lies open on the bed.

How lucky is she to have not one, but two seductive crimson haired lovers this evening?

“Rhaegar Hawke, I’d like you to meet Eliza,” Abner says and smiles at her. Eyes dark and hooded, she crawls between Eliza’s legs, over her body. She is a vision. Her pale, alabaster skin is as soft as powder. Light freckles dot her rosy cheeks, and across her nose in a dazzling array of sweetness.

“A pleasure,” Hawke hums. He stands at the door waiting, watching Eliza and Abner on the bed.

Leaning over her, Abner kisses her pouty lips. Eliza’s eyes close, but her mouth opens. Abner glides the tip of her tongue along the soft, pink lips before she dips in, caressing Eliza’s tongue with hers. She moans into Abner’s mouth and presses her hips up against her. The maid shudders with desire as Abner runs her tongue-caressing kisses on her lips, cheeks, and chin. She travels wet, adoring kisses down her neck, and arches her back, kneeling over Eliza’s writhing form.

Hawke apparently is overcome with temptation at the sight of Abner’s bum propped in the air. He comes to stand next to the bed. His hands traveling the curve of Abner’s ass, down the firm, muscled outside of her thighs, and back up the softer, delicate inside. He cups her hot center through her leather breeches, before tugging at the laces. Slowly, she feels him peel back the leather from her skin. As he pulls them down her legs, she aids him, lifting to remove her pants, one leg at a time.

He cups and grabs Abner’s ass, giving her a tongue-stroking kiss on each cheek. He glides his hand between her thighs, causing her to gasp and shudder into Eliza’s mouth. As he paces up the side of the bed, Abner leaves her kisses with Eliza to lean up on her knees, welcoming Hawke with passion between their slick lips.

Hawke’s works one hand between her legs, while the other travels to her neck. She gasps as he grabs it firmly, pressing his thumb against her throat, and pulling her into a deeper kiss. Eliza’s fingers dance and glide on Abner’s stomach causing her skin to prickle and sing. Hawke’s hand travels down to her breast. He cups it and thumbs her nipple as they continue to sinfully glide their tongues together.

Pulling away from their kiss, he eyes the crimson beauty lying beneath them. With his hooded stormy eyes, he smiles at Eliza as he bends down to seductively kiss her luscious lips, and brush his fingers along her breasts.

Abner uses the opportunity to slip off her sheer tunic, tossing it to the side. Delicately, she moves Eliza’s legs downward, and straddles over one of her thighs. Pressing her firm thigh against Eliza’s slick cunt, the barmaid coos into Hawke’s mouth with excitement. The ragged panting sounds they make turns Abner on further, as she glides and rocks herself against Eliza’s soft, smooth thigh.

Hawke stands and begins to remove his clothing while Eliza sits up enough to grab at Abner’s waist and pull her down. Their skin silkily slides against each other. Abner lies next to Eliza, yet slightly overlapped and entangled with her. They kiss as Abner trails her hand down Eliza’s stomach to her dripping core. She moans and bucks against Abner’s hand while she rubs the sweet pearl with her thumb and dips the tips of her fingers into her.

Abner hums lowly into her ear, “Do you like that, Eliza?”

“Fuck, yes…” she gasps breathlessly.

Hawke joins them on the bed, on the opposite side of their tantalizing barmaid. He kneels next to her, his cock proudly hanging before them. Eliza and Abner smirk at each other before they sit up and guide Hawke to a lying position between them. Eliza licks her hand and glides her slippery palm along Hawke’s length, from tip to base and back again, causing it to twitch in appreciation.

He hisses a sharp intake of breath and closes his eyes. Each of his hands lightly rubbing the women’s waists. Leaning down over his cock, as Eliza slowly strokes it, Abner eases her mouth over the tip. Swirling her tongue against the shaft, she glides down, encasing as much as she can while allowing room for Eliza. With added pressure of suction, Abner glides her mouth back up. She watches Hawke’s face as Eliza strokes, and she sucks. His eyes open, watching them, the blue of them turning even darker and more thunderous. His lightly furred chest rises and falls steadily, his slow breath gradually gaining speed.

Hawke wraps his fingers through Abner’s hair and guides his cock deeper in her mouth and down her throat, until her nose presses firmly against his stomach. He holds her there as she moans, the feeling of him filling her throat makes her cunt drip down her leg. Eliza reaches around and glides her fingers over Abner’s ass before pressing them inside her, fingers playing with slippery wet. Hawke releases his hold, and she springs her head up, gasping for air, grinning wickedly. He grabs Abner’s face roughly, sinking his thumb into her open, panting mouth, pulling her jaw down. He licks and bites at his lips as he watches her moan, mouth wet and red, and Eliza plays with her cunt, finger gliding and dancing between her thighs. He pulls his thumb from her mouth and pushes her head back down over his cock.

His eyes quickly flicker wide, then squeeze shut as his breathing speeds up considerably, with the added vibrations of her moaning. He pumps her head faster and harder. Pulling his lower lip into his mouth and biting it firmly, he looks down at her, their eyes meeting intensely.

Abner pulls him out of her mouth, gasping for air, overcome with lust. Eliza gives her a break, placing her mouth over him. He replaces Eliza’s fingers inside Abner with his own. His stormy eyes still locked on hers. They may have a companion in the room, but he looks at Abner as if she is the only person in Thedas. She can’t look away, transfixed, aroused by his reddened face and ragged breath. His fingers slide in and out of her as she lightly grinds her hips to help him go deeper. They repeatedly hook and rub against the special bundle of nerves deep inside her, giving Abner the feeling that she will soon unravel. The combination of his fingers, the atmosphere, and the gale raging in his eyes brings her closer to the edge.

Hawke senses this, pulling his fingers away. Abner whimpers, instantly feeling empty, longing for his touch to return. She begs him with her eyes, to bring his touch back to her.

“Get on,” a deep, seductive command erupts from his chest.

Eliza ceases her attentions. Bringing her head back up, she smiles and wipes saliva from her swollen, dark-pink lips. Hawke winks at her, motioning for her to crawl to him and straddle his face while Abner straddles his hips. In unison the women ease down to him. Abner watches his tongue reach out, gliding along Eliza while she cries out to the Maker.

As his cock fills her, Abner loses all consciousness. He feels amazing. She rocks her hips so that he continually stays inside, rubbing against her favorite spot. It feels as if fire is burning and dancing on every inch of her skin.

Eliza reaches out for her, bringing Abner back from her haze. She pulls their lips together. She tastes Hawke on Eliza’s lips and on her tongue, making Abner burn even brighter. They cry into each other as they kiss and ride Hawke. Their breathing uneven, their hips buck and twitch as he brings them both close to the edge.

Hawke’s hands grip Abner’s hips hard, pressing her roughly on him. The women’s hands tangle in each other’s hair and they press their foreheads together, swiftly approaching ecstasy. They both loudly plead for release, and find it, together.

Abner and Eliza shudder. Heads falling to the other’s shoulder, hips twitching as ripples of explosions release in their bodies. They pant and moan into each other’s skin as the last shockwaves of their orgasms dissipate. Abner feels as if her skin glows, Eliza’s most certainly does.

In a low, husky tone, Abner chuckles. Wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she smiles, exhaling a single word, “Damn…”

Eliza giggles as she dismounts Hawke’s now glistening face. He grins quite proudly at them, his hands still driving Abner’s hips on him, slowly rocking her back and forth on him.

“If my ladies are finished?” he asks politely, smirking.

“Please, go right ahead,” Eliza giggles.

The dark, stormy, blue eyes lock on Abner’s, making her shiver and feel as if she could come again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his eyes on her while their lovely friend obstructed her view. He flashes a wicked grin moments before swooping and flinging them into opposite positions, pinning Abner down against the bed. Hawke fervently thrusts in and out of her in long, fluid strokes, never breaking eye contact.

Placing her legs over each shoulder he drives into her. A feeling so intense, that her legs shake and tremble against him. Abner screams his name, and grunts loudly with each thrust, consumed by pleasure. His red hair cascades down the side of his face as he leans down to kiss her. Abner’s knees pinned against her chest, he stays there, slamming into her fast and hard. The bed shakes and creaks, rutting against the floorboards.

Pressing his forehead on hers, they stare into each other eyes, and she senses Hawke start to lose control. In this moment, he is the only man in the world, and she, the only woman. She feels euphoric as she reaches a second climax, dissolving into star dust as rapture radiates throughout her body.

He rumbles her name before connecting their lips one last time as he slams eagerly inside of her. Holding that position, she feels him release and tremble against her.

Abner tucks his hair behind his ear and caresses his cheek. They gaze softly at each other. He smiles and kisses her forehead before leaning up, gently helping her stretch out her unsteady legs.

He grins at Eliza, winks, and exclaims, “Good job!” He smacks her playfully on the ass, causing her to giggle. He looks down at Abner lovingly, gently rubbing her thighs in his strong hands, “You too, my love.”

Abner allows herself to flush at his words, just this once, feeling her own affinity for the man grow in her chest. She feels warm, tingly all over as they each pick a side of her to lie next to and cuddle.

She really shouldn’t make a habit out of this. But just for this night, Abner will allow herself to feel loved.

#in love serenity #male hawke #my hawke #hawke #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fandom #dragon age romance

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