bakerstreet | ( heathcliff, it's me, your cathy, i've come home

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( heathcliff, it's me, your cathy, i've come home - )

Ship
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It was such an adorable gesture that she had to laugh and burrow in next to him, hugging him close for a minute.

And then tickling his ribs.

Varric made an extraordinarily unmanly noise and flailed, kicking out and trying to escape her grasp. It was not very successful.

It was an advantage of being longer-limbed than he was, and having quicker reflexes. Hawke laughed again, her fingers merciless as they darted all over, finding any ticklish locations and testing them.

Only for a few minutes. They had better things to use their energy on today. But she couldn't resist those few minutes, wrapping around him and laughing and playing.

For once in his life Varric cursed his height: he couldn't get away from her long noodle arms, and she was long-limbed enough to actually reach his feet without letting go of him. After a few minutes of absolute ridiculousness, she finally seemed to have mercy, and he flopped on the bed with a breathless laugh.

"Is this how Milady Lunatic treats all her servants?" he asked, terribly offended. "With torture and humiliation?"

"Only the best ones," she answered, giving him a somewhat apologetic kiss. Which meant she tried for apologetic but failed because she was still laughing. "And you are definitely the best servant I've ever had. Speaking of which...?"

She glanced meaningfully at the side table, where the cock ring was waiting.

He took the kiss with a little nose-wrinkled sort of pout, but what came next made him almost grimace.

Almost. He made a face halfway between a "oh god not this shit again" grimace and a "holy shit that's hot" kind of stare. It was a complicated emotion.

"As my lady commands," he said eventually. "I guess wanting breakfast first was too much to hope for."

Hawke laughed. "I could be persuaded to wait until after breakfast. Or..."

Her voice trailed off and her eyes glinted. She sat up. "Or instead, as a reward for the most excellent service--" said with a leer, of course "--you provided me last night, I will, as your mistress, grant you a boon. To be used at a time of your choosing. So you can use it for breakfast, if you'd like."

The glint in her eye said more clearly than words that he'd be foolish if he did waste it in such a manner, however. This was a woman with plans.

That got a headtilt and shrewd look. "What kind of boon we talking?"

Oh, he definitely wouldn't be using it for breakfast. He knew that evil glint far too well.

She waved a hand. "Limited scope. You're still my servant and under my command. Call it a way to guarantee a little more mercy than you'd be otherwise allowed at a given moment." Just the faintest edge on given moment, there. "You're a businessman and a storyteller. I'm sure you'll recognize an opportune moment when one happens."

The way he chewed on his lip was meant to be thoughtful, but in reality it came out a bit more turned-on than he realized.

"Understood," he nodded. "So I guess this is the part where you ring me."

"You're sure you don't want to use it for breakfast?"

Teasing, and obviously expecting a negative, given how she reaches for the cock ring. Though as with last night she stops to give him a thorough, messy, satisfying kiss, with groping from both parties, before she starts putting it on. Life's too short not to.

He cups her face and keeps her close for that kiss, hand wandering to her chest, her ass, before he hisses at the feel of the cock ring. It's an involved affair, getting it on- involving a lot of touching, of gently cupping of things, of soft touches of other things, and by the time it's all the way on his cock is taking a definite interest, and he's sighing both from contact and anticipation.

Then he looks at it, sees it on, and makes a small noise under his breath. By the time he's done kissing her again, he's almost hard. Sodding stone, but he really did enjoy himself last night; just the thought of having this thing on again is enough to turn him on.

Her eyes glint as she takes in his reactions, but once the ring is in place and the last kiss accomplished, she slides her legs over the side of the bed. "Right, time to get dressed. Then breakfast." She grins at him over her shoulder. "You can wear whatever you want, though I recommend that outfit from yesterday. Your usual trousers might be somewhat...confining."

She dresses in her normal 'at home' dress, this time, as though it's an ordinary day with ordinary tasks ahead of them.

"As milady commands," he snerks.

Varric palms himself a little just to make sure the ring actually stays on, just until he can feel a hint of that all-too-familiar pressure squeezing at him, then gets up with a tense sigh. As per her suggestion he goes with the trousers from yesterday and his usual tunic- that vest she picked out was just a little too "harem boy" for him.

Although he won't be leaving the house today, he does put on his necklace. Something tells him she'll enjoy using it as a handle.

In contrast to yesterday, Hawke acts...normal. She plays the game, treats him as a servant (albeit one with whom she shares a lot of quips), orders him to make and serve breakfast (just toast, hard to mess up toast, and she has little faith in his cooking abilities, he doesn't even have a kitchen) and to do the dishes. Firm orders, always keeping it clear that she's in charge. But no hint of kink and surprisingly little flirting.

The cockring still as an effect, she notes. It's a slow build, but easily witnessed. Especially in those trousers. She mostly restrains her smirk, but not entirely.

Then she sets him a real task: going through her correspondance. Filtering through what's important and what isn't, drafting a few responses where necessary. It's a real task, one Bodahn usually sees to for her, and there's a backlog. It will easily take a couple of hours.

The ring's effects do build slowly. He'd started out basically hard, just enough to make sure the thing stayed on. As he putters around the kitchen, following orders, there are a thousand little ways that it builds: his cock, jutting straight out from that damn ring, bumping into the counter, or pressing lightly against the sink when he has to lean in to do the dishes. The way pushing in his chair knocks him lightly against the edge of the table, making him catch his breath. The way following even a mundane order sends the tiniest little thrill through him. Hell, even just wearing the ring, on its own, causes its own build up.

By the time he sits down to do her correspondence, he's fully hard and can feel the ring's familiar pulsing pressure: an all-consuming, inexorable squeeze around him and seemingly almost inside his body. He could do the mundane tasks well enough, but as he looks at her correspondence he knows that it'll be a little more challenging to summon up the actual brainpower to do this.

"Sounds thrilling, M'lady Lunatic," he says with only mild complaining. Then he reaches for an envelope and gets to work.

She actually leaves him alone with it for an hour, which won't be long enough to complete the task, not even for Varric and especially not with such a distraction going on. When she does come back he's just starting a response to Lady Elegant, a friend, who actually deserves something polite and detailed. Perfect.

Hawke stands behind him, a little too close. "How's it going?"

Varric carries on the best he can; it's slow work on the best of days, and today is far from the best of days. He has to periodically stop, eyes closed, and breathe through the gentle throbbing of his cock and will himself to focus. More than a few times the urge to touch himself arises, but he quells it every time, remembering the rules Hawke laid out for him- a fact that does nothing for his distraction.

Still, by the time he gets to Lady Elegant's response, he's coping pretty well. Until she stands a little too close, and his breath almost catches.

"Pretty well, all things considered," he answers neutrally. "Just wondering who actually names themselves something like 'Lady Elegant' is all."

"The 'Elegant' part is because her name before that was truly dreadful, and no, I'm not going to tell you what it was." Said with a bit of a smirk. Elegant and Hawke have done each other a few favors over the years, and she likes the woman. Not least for devising healing potions even Anders can't duplicate. "And the Lady came about more naturally, after she married a nobleman. See? Perfectly understandable."

She walks around him and then...ducks under the table. "Don't mind me. I'll just be a moment." It sounds innocent, as though she's looking for a dropped pencil or picking up a bit of rubbish.

Except that once she's under there she spreads his knees and starts unlacing his trousers.

If Varric had all his faculties he probably could say what Elegant's name used to be. As it is, his mind snags like a cloak on thorns when Hawke ducks under the table. That innocent tone fools no one, and when hands spread his knees he takes a slow breath through his nose and tries not to react.

Her hands on his trousers put pressure on his cock: her gentle motions press the fabric against the head, jutting proudly out like a damned flagpole, and makes him grip his pen a little harder. He bites his lip, waiting for her next move with eyes closed.

Edited 2018-03-13 17:52 (UTC)

She pauses in her movements, and he can probably feel her smirk even if he can't see it.

"Keep writing."

He exhales, eyes screwing shut tighter.

"Right." Of course, of fucking course.

With some difficulty, Varric turned his attention back to the letter before him. He'd paused mid-thought, and wrote out the rest of the sentence carefully.

Hawke chuckled, the low, wicked chuckle she used when they both knew she was up to no good, and followed up on it by unlacing his trousers completely. Varric's cock all but sprang forward, which earned another chuckle. In other circumstances there would've been more than a few smartass remarks about that. She'd have to save them for later.

She moved forward, and repeated "Keep writing" just before licking the tip of his cock slowly with her tongue.

The rings made him overly sensitive, so when she did that, he sighed and groaned low in his throat, grip on the pen tightening.

It took an incredible effort to put pen to paper. He was about 70% sure of what the next word would be, and he tried hard to hold onto that frail certainty to get him through this.

It was a bit crowded under the desk, chair and legs and a low ceiling, but Hawke could adapt. She pushed his legs further apart and licked a slow circle around the tip of him, then kissed it, then repeated the circle, lapping at the skin, brushing her lips, grazing her teeth so lightly. If at any point he stopped writing for more than a second or two, she stopped. Reproachful noises would be arranged if necessary.

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Noodle arms and spider legs. She's so sexy.

he loves his slenderman, ok

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gonna time skip a bit if you don't mind

\o/

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