Authors Note: NSFW/MA/All those other smutty warnings apply.

Hawke walked into the Chantry, the smell of incense tickling her nose. A Sister moved quietly against the walls lighting candles for the evening as the sunlight dimmed through the windows. Hawke avoided the stairs to the main platform, averting her eyes from the large statues. They would not approve of her being there, those represented figures, but she was alright with that.

She turned left off the main hall and followed those steps to the second level. The few people waiting their turn at confession glanced her way. Oh look, the Champion of Kirkwall. Yes, she would have a lot to confess. Hawke didn't fit into Hightown, or among the nobles, or even here in the Chantry. But she didn't mind their whispered words or their open-mouthed stares. They meant nothing to her. In truth, not many people did.

Another woman in gold and red robes addressed her, "may I help you, Champion?"

Hawke did her best to somber her expression. "Yes Sister, if you please, where might Brother Sebastian be hearing confession?"

The Sister nodded towards the opposite side of the second floor. "Sister Clarice is here, Brother Sebastian over there." Hawke thanked her as she turned away from the judging eyes of the other nobles and moved down the hall behind a large statue to the other side.

It seemed the majority of Kirkwall's finest were more comfortable confessing to a Sister rather than a Brother, as Sebastian's waiting area was empty. Hawke smiled as she raised her head up and thanked the Maker for this gift; her chance to finally get off her chest what had been building up for years.

Hawke faced the two small rooms joined together; one door closed, where Sebastian would be, and the other open, welcoming her to sit inside. As she entered the room and closed the door quietly, she could hear his slow steady breathing in the next room. A small screen separated them, but the pitch blackness would allow her anonymity. Her back would face the screen, as did his, and they were free to talk with no fear of embarrassment should they meet on the street.

Sebastian cleared his throat and welcomed her, and immediately Hawke felt the flush upon her cheeks. That voice, oh how she'd often get lost in that accent. Many days spent in the Chantry listening to his sermons, though she didn't believe a word of it. Who knew what story he was telling or what he was talking about? She would instead close her eyes and picture him whispering to her in a more intimate setting.

"Are you alright," she heard him ask, and Hawke snapped out of her daydream. He had apparently asked her something that she didn't respond to.

Focus Marian, focus. "Y-yes, I'm sorry. I am ashamed to admit I have never been to confession before," she said in a voice not quite her own. She pitched it a little higher, just a tad smoother, and added a dash of innocence. "It is a little intimidating."

She knew by the tone of his response that he was smiling and his eyes showed nothing but warmth. Even behind closed doors in the darkest of places he would be a gentleman. "The Maker has patience for all," he responded, "it matters little that you haven't been before. What does matter is that you are here now."

"Thank you," Hawke replied, "for your kind words."

"Now then," he began again, "something must have brought you here, so why don't we begin there?"

Hawke chuckled a bit but held back her laugh, not wishing to give herself away. "Wow, you jump right into it don't you?"

She heard him laugh at her statement, could picture the small lines around the corner of his eyes. "Normally confession isn't a place for small talk or idle chatter. There is something troubling your soul, so yes, it is best to jump right into it as you say."

"Alright then," Hawke sighed dramatically. "I fear a case of lust has brought me to you," she said forcing herself to keep a straight face even though he couldn't see her. "I have been having...impure thoughts. About a friend of mine."

A pause before his response let her know she was already making him uncomfortable. "Go on," he encouraged. "What is it you feel is so wrong?"

"It has become nearly an obsession," Hawke told him quietly, now speaking the truth. "When we are together, I can not think straight. His very presence...it consumes me. When he speaks, I can only watch his lips and imagine my tongue on them, sliding softly across the bottom, longing to know what his mouth tastes like." She closed her eyes and continued her fantasy, one that she honestly had many times before. "I can feel his hand press to my face and hold me there as he finally allows me the entrance I seek, and the warmth of his breath steals my own."

Sebastian cleared his throat again. "That is...very descriptive," he said as she pictured the blush on his cheeks. "Surely he has noticed the way you look at him?"

"He hasn't," she said sadly. "I part my lips with my tongue every time we see each other, hoping he'll notice the way I moisten them for him, but he often turns away and I'm left feeling rejected."

Sebastian did his best to give her proper advice. "I would suggest speaking to him and letting him know of your wish at a relationship," he told her. "But from what you have told me, your thoughts are completely innocent and should not trouble you so."

"It goes beyond a simple kiss Brother," Hawke continued. "I lay awake at night and imagine he is next to me. It is so strong that I can feel his warmth against my naked body." She allowed him a moment of shifting positions again, hoping an image was forming in his mind. "I can tell you the lines he traces on my skin with his fingertips, how he moves from my cheek down my neck, and settles between my breasts. My heart beats against his hand in anticipation of him stretching his fingers to touch those sensitive peaks that have been aching for him." A soft brief moan escaped her lips and she waited for his response.

"I uh...I see," he said in a flustered tone.

Hawke knew she had his attention now, and so she pressed forward. "I fear I commit yet another sin as I move my own hand down my chest, pinching and pulling and teasing those peaks, and then settle between my legs. I want it to be him; his strong calloused fingers touching me in ways I know only he can do. Moving in circles just under my black curls, feeling how warm and ready I am just because of his touch. He would tease me relentlessly as I begged for him to take me, thrusting my hips forward into his hand until he buried one of those fingers deep within me. Cries of ecstasy spill from my lips as he withdraws and enters two, and after a time even three, stretching me and preparing me for the inevitable."

She paused when she heard him move, one heel of his foot hitting the floor and then the other. Stretching his legs out then Hawke assumed; perhaps things are getting a little tight for him in the groin area. Perfect. "That is...a little closer to lust, yes," Sebastian said to her.

"Is it more than lust if I must act on these feelings?" Hawke asked as sweetly as possible. "If the need to feel him inside me is so strong that I begin to touch myself in the exact manner I crave from him? I fear that is where I sin the most," she whispered, "for I do it every night."

"E-every night?" the stuttered question came.

"In the morning as well," Hawke admitted. "When I wake, my mouth hungers for him. I wish to roll over and find him there, still naked from our previous evening, and I gently lift back the sheet as not to wake him. I can admire the muscles of his chest, his arms, his legs...and then I can not help myself. I kiss each indentation of his abdomen and he begins to stir, and then I wet my lips to prepare his awakening. Slow deliberate circles around the tip and he's awake, reaching for my hair between his legs. I run my tongue up and down his shaft as it too wakes, and then I wrap my lips around him and surround him with warmth. The way he says my name sets my own skin tingling and I moan while taking him, something I've learned he loves the most. I will give all my attentions to him until he has reached his climax, and then devour all that he has to offer me. It is a gift I wish to give him every morning he is with me."

"Oh Maker," she hears him mutter under his breath.

It nearly destroys all control she had, to hear him call out like that as if they really were together. Her confession was never a lie; she longed and yearned for this every night and every morning. Every battle fought and won the tension in her increasing, desperately crawling at her insides to be released by this man. She pretended she didn't hear him hoping not to crush his dignity. "I have never craved another person as I do him. I fear I am punishing myself with these thoughts! I know he could never be with me in this way, and that is the real reason I am here. Explain to me, how the Maker could bring someone so wonderful into my life, only to not allow me to be with him?"

Moments passed, his breathing much quicker than when she had first entered the room. "I would imagine any man would consider themselves lucky to have someone care for them so...passionately," his controlled response came.

It's all or nothing Marian. "It is beyond passion. More than lust. My body aches for him!" No lies. Pure, painful truth. "To have such visions of him pressed against me, his desire for me so close to my warmth for him, begging for him to push into me and bury himself within me. I long to cry out his name as he claims me as his own, thrusting into me with such force I can barely breathe! I need to wrap my legs around him, lift myself to him so I can accept the full length of him as his speed increases. I can think of nothing greater than coming to climax with him, my inner core clamping down on him as waves of pleasure envelop him and cause his release. To feel the burst of his seed fill me, to know it's his love for me as well that brought him to that moment..."

She heard him moan behind her. It was quiet, soft, and filled with a need she had imagined a hundred times before. "Sebastian," she whispered his name, though in her real voice with no facade, "please." She was desperate now, desperate for him, for his touch, for his breath on her skin, his hands on her body...

It was then that she heard the door shut to his room. He had left her? What began as harmless innocent fun had turned to a serious need of passion, and then in a split second he was gone and she thought the worst. Did she take it too far? Should she not have said his name in such a way that she had done countless times before? Was he angry now, knowing it was her?

Her only thought was to leave; fear and panic nearly overwhelming her. Hawke stood and planned out the quickest exit without being seen. She opened the door to flee, but was pushed back into the room and up against the wall. Sebastian shut the door behind them with his leg extended backwards as he held her in place by her shoulders. "Marian." He whispered her name with that accent that always made her melt, and then pressed his lips to hers. Once again she thanked the Maker; Sebastian had robes on instead of armor, and they easily began indulging in her confessed fantasy.