❣ last but not least, désiré from mavis ;)
@ingxni | random kisses | not accepting
❣ From Désiré — #5. A neck kiss
The Hawke estate was the only place Désiré was ever out of his armor; even at his crew’s home base, even in the cabin of his ship while at sea - the man was never exposed. And, there were those that would argue this paranoid protection extended far beyond the physical. Walls, Désiré had so many walls, and indeed he wore them like armor, too.
Yet Mavis had bypassed them all like there was a shortcut to the smuggler’s heart even he had not known about. He made him vulnerable, but Désiré was comfortable with that. He felt safe. There was no need for the armor - mental, or physical.
Plus he could hardly get so very close to his Hawke if he was wearing his leathers.
Désiré had been enjoying the peace of Mavis’ presence for some time now, pressed close to his side with head resting on his shoulder. One of his curls was being twisted absently around his lover’s fingers, and their legs were twined and helplessly twisted up in the sheets of the bed. He’d dozed in and out, a smile curving his lips each time he opened his eyes to see the Champion’s face still stuck in a book. Moments like this made it easy to forget the troubles outside the bedroom. But they couldn’t last forever, not with time steadily ticking away.
Shifting, touch moved across Mavis’ chest with a confidence that finally pulled him from his book. Désiré wasn’t ready to put the armor back on, not yet, and his eyes must have said it even more clearly than his hands if the boyish grin blooming across his lover’s face was any indication.
He opened his mouth, presumably to tease him in his gentle way, but Dez pressed a finger to his lips to hush him. ‘Not yet,’ he mouthed as he pushed himself up, rolling partially atop the younger man and bringing their faces together. Mavis leaned forward for a kiss, but Désiré pulled away just enough to deny him, speaking a little chastisement against his lips while his fingers drifted across his jaw. Mavis pursed his lips in adorable protest, and now Désiré grinned, nosing him affectionately before gently encouraging the turn of his head.
The first kiss was light against his lover’s jaw, but each increased in intensity as they moved slowly, slowly down. Désiré’s confident touch moved again as well, traveling with the same salacious intent as his kisses as it massaged its way across the Champion’s torso. The press of Dez’s lips against the curve of Hawke’s neck turned to heat and teeth, and fingers slipped beneath trousers where the smuggler proved the skill of his hands.
A stroke, a kiss, a bite, and the sweetly indecent sound of Mavis’ breathing; no, the armor would not be put back on for quite a while.
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