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The Arrangement	By : Sovereign Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 11809 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age nor shall I profit from this, this is just a fic

Chapter List
- 1-The Arrangement
- 1
“I'm here to see the Knight-Captain.” the guards at the door didn't question it anymore, they just ushered her inside. Very shortly after first arriving in Kirkwall the Ferelden had started business with Knight-Captain Reynard. She provided information on the smugglers she worked for or some such. It was above the paygrade of the guards so they didn't question. Once a week she turned up for a short private meeting and then she was gone. Never any problems.

Marion strode passed the guards with some confidence, but every step she took down the hallway that lead to towards Reynard's office seemed to sap that confidence right away. Her throat was dry and under her gloves she could feel the sweat forming on her palms. Of course she was walking around Kirkwall in midday and her armour wasn't exactly particularly cooling but it was all neither here nor there.

Once she was at the door she let the back of her hand knock against the wood, tapping a few times and then waiting for a sound inside to tell her to come inside. When it came she let herself in. It was practically casual, it was certainly routine.

Knight-Captain Reynard was sitting behind his desk. However ridiculous it was for Marian Hawke to walk around Kirkwall in her armour, Reynard looked far more ridiculous in the armour of a Templar sitting at a desk to do Maker only knows what paperwork.

“Hawke. I hope you have something for good for me.” Knight-Captain Reynard was old enough to have a head of grey hair, his equally grey eyes watched her like a cat might watch a cat it was about to pounce on. He was not a young man and the hard life of a Templar had done nothing to help him age well. At the very least he still managed to fit into his armour.

“About that Reynard....” Marian closed the door behind her before stepping into the office. It was very bare. Suitably boring for a Templar some would describe it. The desk was one of the few features, a pair of chairs on the side Marian was standing for when they Knight-Captain had meetings. Her nervous eyes glanced to the book shelf on the left, the window behind Reynard but she had no clue what she was hoping to find.

“That doesn't sound encouraging.” he watched her now, seizing her up. The infamous Marian Hawke, smuggler extraordinaire. If only her smugglers pals knew she was responsible for so many Mages failing to be...well smuggled.

“Look....things have been quiet. Athenril wants to lay low after your Templars stopped the job last week. It can't be helped.” Surely Reynard could understand that? There was only so much intel she could feed them before information started to get scare and there was a limit to how many Mages could afford the smugglers.

“That's not my problem Hawke, we have an arrangement.” He was leaning forward on his chair, gauntlet covered hands propped up on the table by his elbows and one hand wrapped around a balled fist. “So unless you want Bethany to get arrested....well you know what it takes.” most people thought Reynard rarely smiled but Marian had seem his smile more than she cared too.

“Reynard...please, I just need time until things pick up. They always do.” the feeling in her gut told her he wouldn't budge but it was always worth a try.

“We've been down this road before. I can give you the 'if I let you off once' speech again if you like. But we both know where its going.” It was at this point he sat back, his little smile turning into a smug grin as he watched his little informer come to the conclusion he knew she would.

She shut her eyes tight, scrunching up the red smear across her nose before she took a deep breath. In her head she repeated a mantra reminding her it was all for Bethany. It was all for Bethany. “Okay...” another deep breath as she prepared to force the words out. “Lock the door.” a dejected sigh escaped her lips and her eyes opened. Reynard pulled himself out of his chair and started to walk around the table.

Marian pulled the greatsword off of her back and placed it against the wall. She affectionately stroked the blade with the back of her fingers for a moment. She was supposed to be the mighty Marian Hawke. She destroyed Darkspawn, cut down the carta and made mulch of mercenaries. But she couldn't fight her way out of this one. She removed the little knife she kept at the small of her back and crouched down to gently place it on the ground beside the tip of her sword. Her gloves were next, the little tug she had to give to get them to come off seemed suiting for the moment somehow.

The Ferelden Smuggler heard the latch being turned, she didn't turn around but she knew Reynard was watching now. Reached down to her boots she slipped one off and then the other. Her lithe little feet, one would not know how much marching around she did. The wool interior of the boots were to thank for that. With the small bits out of the way Marian stood back up and turned around. She knew how Reynard liked to watch, even if her face made it painfully obvious she did not enjoy this if he got the little details he liked it might make the whole thing pass that little bit faster.

He had removed his own gauntlets and was taking off that ridiculous bit of cloth the Templars wore off the waist. The little skirt. Marian tried not to give him too much attention. Instead she focused on finding each and every silverite clasp and the leather straps that held the chest piece together and solid. As she peeled it away she could feel the weight of it vanishing, but it was nothing compared to the weight of Reynard's hungry gaze. Watching each and every inch of her smooth skin being exposed. It was a simple piece of cotton that shielded her breasts from his gaze, for what few moments she would have keeping them from him she did.

He was after going back to his chair now, watching keenly. Reynard didn't even pretend to make an effort to be enjoying how uncomfortable she was at that point. Her cheeks had gone pink, she was nervous and embarrassed and ashamed. It wasn't new to her. This wasn't the first time it had happened and in the back of her head she knew it wouldn't be the last.

“You can leave the necklace on, I like the necklace.” her eyes flicked to him again when he said it, the little Andraste pendant hanging around her neck. As she was standing now it probably brought attention to the breasts it was positioned just above of. Marian didn't respond to him though. She just focused on undoing her belt, her slender fingers undoing the thin buckle. She didn't bother taking it off. She only needed it open so she could starting undoing her greaves.

It took another reminder that it was all for Bethany before she managed to actually remove the greaves, exposing her legs to the Templar Knight-Captain. It was perhaps a testament to her equipment or her skill that her body was so unblemished by the usual scars or marks that went along with a person in her profession. It was likely a testament to both, yet neither provided her a real means of keeping the Templars away from her sister and keeping her out of the Circle. Keeping the family together required a different set of skills.

While it could be said her womanly curves made her sufficiently desirable to provide a bargaining tool with the Knight-Captain, she was rather sure Reynard enjoyed this not because she was attractive. That was just a bonus. The Knight-Captain enjoyed this because he loved having the infamous elder Hawke sister degrade herself for him.

All Marian had now was the cotton smallclothes that protected her dignity...and her pendant. The first time this had happened Reynard had made a joke that the signature red streak across her nose was the only thing she had to wear for him. After all...anything else was just a frill. But she knew Reynard would not allow her the dignity of hiding what little modesty was concealed. He liked her as vulnerable and exposed as possible when she...provided her end of the bargain. Her cousin was the Hero of Fereldon, a Grey Warden that had killed an Arch-Demon. As Marian removed one cotton strap from her shoulder and a hand glided to the other she couldn't help but wonder what her cousin would think if she could see her now. A mighty Amell brought so low.

The cotton article that shielded the soft, pink globes of flesh on her chest was slowly pulled away and dropped beside her. Marian waited for a comment about how much he missed the pink of her nipples, he often made one. But it never came. Instead she was left to remove the one last piece of clothing. Fingers on either hand slipped under the delicate material and Marian forced herself to push them down, just enough to let gravity take over.

They fell at around her feet and her finely shaven womanly centre was left exposed to the cool air that came in from the window. Reynard was smiling. He had turned to one side and an elbow was perched on his desk. “There we go, that's what I like to see.” he was stewing in his own self-satisfaction. Some day Marian would wipe the grin off of his face. But it wasn't today.

Her little feet were suddenly keenly aware of the cold stone floor they were standing on and as she started to carry herself from the side of his office where she had deposited everything she was wearing to the back of the office behind the desk the floor just seemed to get colder and colder. When Marian was standing in front of where he was sitting she could see her had removed several articles of his uniform armour to allow her....ease of access, as it were. But he had not taken himself out of the pants he wore under his armour. That privilege he left for her.

Marian had to take another deep lungful of air and she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. The Knight-Captain's gaze through those grey eyes was not helpful. “On your knees Smuggler slut.” to say the words put a sting on the moment would be an understatement, but a few words hardly caused her much embarrassment compared to what she was about to do.

The Ferelden took a moment to straighten her neck before slowly, but obediently lowering to her knees. The cold had been an annoyance on her feet, but it seemed to seep up through her knees towards places she didn't need to be cold. Looking down towards his crotch she could see the bulge, caught behind the linen. Long, dexterous fingers rose up and pulled loose the string that kept his pants tight before she tugged down the material slightly.

One hand reached into the linen and within a moment she could feel the warm, semi-erect piece of flesh that was his manhood, her other hand started to tug his pants down further. Soon enough there it was....the Knight-Captain's cock. While she was smoothly shaven, he had a tuft of partly black and partly grey hair. It was not a positive element in her life that she could tell he had trimmed recently. It had been quiet some time ago that she had come to the conclusion that the arrangement they made required too regular a visit to see him in the gallows. It was easier to disrupt the smugglers operations then she had expected, but Reynard held the advantage. She wasn't in a position to re-negotiate.

Finally Hawke started to lean in. She parted her lips and enveloped the bulbous head, taking it into the warmth of her moist mouth. She held it there for a moment before sliding down further. Her tongue came up to massage the underside of his prick, Hawke tried to pretend she couldn't feel every thick vain but she could. Marian was aware of everything. She was aware of the taste of his skin mixed with the sweat, she was aware of every vain, she was aware of every hair that poked her chin when she took so much of him into her mouth that she was approaching his aging balls.

“That's right, you've done it enough times. You know how to do it.” Reynard enjoyed taunting her. It was a part of the fun, an important part. Reminding her how many times she had descended to her knees and degraded herself to protect her sister. His grey eyes watched her now. Watching the back and forth bobbing of her head on his now fully erect and hard cock. He watched her blue eyes as they locked with his, the mix of shame at what she was doing and the contempt she had for the Knight-Captain. That someone with such content for him was in a situation where she had no option but to suck him off made it all the sweeter.

As Marian continued working his shaft with her lips while her tongue danced over the tip of his prick Reynard brought a hand up and took a firm hold of her black hair. It was somewhat short for a woman, but enough for him to take a grip and provide some....guidance. Suddenly he was able to control the pace, the bobbing of her head on his manhood was at his discretion now. He had her take that bit more of his length, until he felt himself occasionally reach the back of her throat. Hawke was forced to reposition herself, a hand grasping at the pants on either side of his waist, adjusting the direction of her throat to his cock. It was all she could do to avoid gagging. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

It had turned from Marian sucking off the Knight-Captain to Reynard using her face to mouth fuck himself. She didn't try to fight it. She just let it happen, her only real concern how was making sure she was breathing properly. Her lips kept sliding over his shaft, it was coated in her saliva now. Her tongue continued running over his length and tip, giving each its bit of attention and taking the pre-cum as it came. The first couple of times she found herself in this situation she had tried not to bring her tongue into it, that defiant little nature of hers didn't want to let him enjoy it. But she had soon learned that the more quickly it was over the better.

His waist started to fidget and he continually pulled her head on his prick. That was a good sign at the very least. Hawke just had to endure now. She just had to endure the taste of his aging, fat cock in her mouth, endure the burning sensation in her jaw, endure the idea that a Templar was using her like some lowtown whore. Her knees were sore too. Every once in a while she would become aware of the cold stone floor she was kneeling on. That wasn't so bad, it would distract her from the heat in her face.

“That's right Hawk...suck it, suck it you slut.” he wasn't looking at her now, he threw his head back as he continued to grind her mouth onto his fat, veiny old cock. Marian did not like it when he called her a slut. She was by no means a prude, she had been to the Hanged Man and taken lovers and there has been a charming smuggler or two. Many people had called her a slut, but usually it was some random insult by a fool grasping at straws before she cut him down. But with Reynard it was different. Mainly because he used her as a slut.

“Get ready.” he moaned it out and she knew what it meant. She had to take over now, had to bounce her head on his crotch and suck him furiously. He didn't want her to have too easy a time after all. The end was always her responsibility. Hawke sucked and licked and bobbed with everything she had until she felt that momentary surge in his cock and a hot rope of his semen erupted into her mouth.

It was then his fingers entwined with the hair in the back of her head again and he pulled her away, as she knew he would. He always did. Reynard stood up, towering above the young Marian Hawke, one of his hands holding her hair and the other hand holding his manhood, pumping it so his seed squirted out and landed on her face. The final disgrace to shame her. She knew it was only a few pumps, but from where she was kneeling it felt like a lot. She could feel every drop of it land on her face, some dripping down and landing on her breasts. Staining the soft, pink mounds of flesh with the milky fluid. Her nipples had long since gone hard under the cold draft. She had to swallow what went into her mouth, but she could wash away the rest at least. But it was over.

Reynard sat back into his chair, stuffing himself back into the linen pants and letting out a breath he had been holding. Marian stood up rather slowly, being made aware of an ache in her knees as soon as she started. There was a pitcher of water on his desk, she did not ask if he would mind her using it. She just picked it up and turned around. He wouldn't want her walking outside with his semen on her face afterall, that would bring up some questions. Discretion was important in an arrangement like they had.

After Marian had wiped her face and chest she slinked back over to where her clothes were. No matter how defiant she might be when facing down darkspawn or the carta or the like, as she slipped her cotton underthings back on she was very...meek.

“Feel free to send your sister around sometime, I'm sure she won't mind taking a turn. Its her I'm not arresting after all.” he almost made it sound like a simple suggestion, but there was that sliver of an insulting tone slipped in. Just enough to make it apparent.

“I'll keep that in mind.” replied the Ferelden smuggler as she pulled on her pants and did up her belt. In truth she had absolutely no intention of mentioning it to Bethany. Her little sister did not need to know what she did to protect her. She was naïve enough to believe they were sufficiently careful and discreet. Marian was happy to let her continue thinking that. When her armour was back on she slung her greatsword over her shoulder and slipped her knife back into place. Her cousin had united all of Ferelden in fighting the darkspawn threat and saved the world from a blight. For all of Marian's talents as a warrior she couldn't protect her own sister without blowing a Templar.

But it was done for now. Marian was back in her armour and she was walking out the door. She didn't know how long Knight-Captain Reynard would honour their agreement, but for the time being he did. Hawke might not have liked it, but if a few minutes on her knees was what it took to buy Bethany's freedom then that's what it took. She would have swallowed the cock of every Templar in Kirkwall if that's what was required. Some day she would have the wealth or prestige required to protect her sister, until she would suffer the occasional bruised knees.
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The Arrangement