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Softly	By : chipperdyke Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 11471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I bow to gods of BioWare and offer a humble tribute to the awesome. I don't own Dragon Age II, they do. I profit not, though my dildo perhaps does.

Chapter List
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3. Drawing Conclusions

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." She spoke from the doorway, partially obscured by darkness.

I broke from my reverie, perched on the side of my bed, to look at her. I'd been angry before, when I went to find her in the Hanged Man; I'd even waited a few hours, hoping she'd show up. Finally the barkeep said he hadn't seen her in a day, apparently unusual, and I brought Sebastian along instead, the highborn snob that he was. He was fine in battle... and the horror of the night was not lost on him... nor was it lost on Anders, yet... I wished I'd had her with me.

She seemed almost timid now, hesitation obvious in the set of her shoulders. I am sorry too, I thought. But if I said that she might take wing, like a nervous bird, and
be lost to me again. "Thank you for coming here," I said, trying to smile.

She stepped into the room. "We should talk about... things. Like how you feel."

Ever the wordsmith, my Isabela. I shrugged and moved over to give her room on the bed. "I could sum it up in a word: awful."

"The wound is fresh. You will heal." She hesitated again, touching one of the posters of the bed.

"I suspect so," I said. "If only it had been... a natural death."

"She died loving you, and knowing you loved her," she said softly, slipping onto my bed. She was doing well, I realized. I already felt a little better.

Isabela. I thought about what I knew of her mother. How alone she must have been. "I am lucky," I said. "I feel almost a... a brat, moaning about my mother's death to you, with all I've had. A family's love, a happy childhood - things you never had."

She snorted. "Hawke, love follows you like a second skin. Every week I hear that damned song Varric wrote about you, in one pub or another. Just think what it will be like when you've actually done something."

My heart was in my throat. "Isabela," I said, and then kissed her gently on the lips. "Love can follow me all it likes, so long as I can follow you just as well." She cocked an eyebrow. "The world has been so unjust to you. Let me... try to make up for it."

"My, Hawke. That sounded almost like..."

"Like, 'I love you?'" I said wearily, withdrawing from her.

"Not precisely what I was going to say, but yes," she said. I could feel her eyes searing the side of my face.

"I'm getting very confused," I admitted. "Perhaps you should set my mind back on track. Tell me of the person you last bedded."

"Really?" She started unlacing her impressive boots.

"Sleeping with me the other night, and the kissing. It's all apt to turn about a girl's head, till she's forgotten her place," I said. “If you’re trying to stop me from falling in love with you, it’s not working.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hawke. I'm... getting used to you." She said this as if it would be a sufficient explanation.

"We've known each other for four years." I was incredulous.

"Not that. Your body. The idea of it." She unclasped her necklace, laying it on my bedside table.

"This is getting more and more unbelievable." I sighed. "Your most recent fuck. Tell me about them."

"Alright," she said, sitting crosslegged on the bed facing me. I couldn't bring myself to look at her straight on, although I'd never seen her legs naked like this before. "She is beautiful, and knows how to have a good time - though she doesn't as often as she should. She doesn't have as many friends as she should, bound instead by some misbegotten notions of duty and responsibility. Yet her duty is not anyone else's; she is never judgmental, though always just. She lives by a code which is not always lawful, and as far as I can see it most like resembles the idea that every man must be free to make his own decisions, and that we should never bind him from them unless it hurts any person else. I like that most about her, aside from the sly look she gives when she's about to say something unexpected."

She kissed me, slow and deep. I pulled away early, unable to appreciate the kissing. "It sounds like you might have... feelings for this woman," I said.

"I'm trying to get used to her body," she purred into my ear. "Because I think one day I may trust her." She placed a chaste kiss on my collarbone.

"I love you, Isabela," I said, feeling as if the words were wrenched from my lips.

"You are a foolish woman," she said harshly. "I will never give you what you need."

"You are all I need," I said, the desire pooling in my belly. I took her face in my hands and kissed her soundly, expecting her to pull away when I loosened my grip.

Instead she relaxed into me, prompting a more passionate kiss. My hands were afire in her hair, stroking her arm, unable to stop moving but afraid to touch too intimately. She put her arms around my shoulders, and then slid onto the bed - on her back, pulling me on top of her.

My heart sang as I found my hand resting on the curve of her hip. The kiss had broken off, and we were both panting. I searched her face, seeing honey eyes darkened with passion, head tilted with irony streaming off of the twist of her lip. "What is this?" I said.

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, her voice like syrup and the sweetest rain. Her lips were better, the finest elixir that had ever touched mine own. I sank into her sweet softness, exploring her gloriously naked legs with my free hand, while the one that propped me up was buried in her hair. Her legs were like the rest of her: toned, but with the softest skin, and better yet her skin rippled in pleasure when my fingers brushed her backside.

The ties to her shirt/skirt were easier this time, since I'd seen her do it before, and I disrobed her without breaking our kiss off. When I'd succeeded, though, I pulled away to look at her, drinking in the pirate's full breasts and luscious curves. I grinned and kissed her chest, just under her chin. "I love your freckles most of all," I informed her.

"Indeed?" she said. "Well, I love your bosom." She tweaked a nipple fiercely through my shirt, sending arousal straight through my body. She brought her leg up my pants leg, bringing her core into contact with the front of my thigh. But her foot didn't stop moving until it had hooked the back of my loose pants, and with a bit of help from her hands she pulled the garment down to my ankles.

It seemed that she had no sooner rid us of the cloth between me and her center that she was grinding against me, feral. The feeling of her against my skin drove me to distraction, and I almost succumbed to the simplicity of this position.

She locked her leg around mine and bit down hard on my neck, pulling my shirt off just as easily as she'd done my pants. I allowed her to take my shirt off, but when she went for my neck again I pulled away, trapping her arms against the bed. I held them there while I kissed her ear, and down her neck to her shoulders. I took the middle road between her breasts, and licked along her ribs, ignoring her moans and squirming.

I took her arms down and held them together with one hand at the small of her back while I licked the soft skin of her belly and lower, right above her hair. She kept it trimmed, I noted as I worked around the sides of her legs, breathing her smell, like body and the sea. My fingers dug into her backside, deep, which made her hips twitch up, until I took the soft skin between her hair and the inside of her thigh in my teeth and held her down.

She moved her hands then, and suddenly they were free, and she had flipped me onto my back, straddling my face between her legs. "Lover, I worry that you are distressed," I said with mock sincerity, and I leaned my head in and licked her soundly between her lips. She howled. "A poison arrow, perhaps, or a scorpion in your bed?" I licked her again. "Is this..." I licked, "one of the..." I licked again, "six things women are good for?" I laid my head back down and smiled up at her distraught face.

"Don't make me beg," she said huskily, and so I latched on to the sweet spot, swollen and eager. She howled again, and then grunted as I flicked my tongue down again, tasting the pirate's fluids, rich and poignant. This was most interesting, this new way of exploring a woman, but wonderful as it was my fingers were dissatisfied in their place, one rubbing her back and the other tight around her hip, massaging the sensitive muscle there. I wanted to kiss her, lay my body against hers and take her with my fingers, but it was obvious to me that such would only frustrate Isabela, so I stayed in my place and found her hole with my fingers, trapped as they were behind her.

I dug my tongue into her folds and took her with my fingers. The angle was again sub-optimal, but she was so open, so ready, so wide and oh, the sound she made when I slipped in my fingers and stroked that soft, smooth spot inside. I forgot my mouth in the excitement of fucking her, slipping a third finger in easily and holding back, not wanting to go so far, and so deep, so hard that it hurt her. But the beast was inside me now, and it wanted only the hardest of fucks. It wanted to make Isabela scream.

She ground herself onto my face, and I suddenly remembered what my mouth was supposed to be doing. I found her nub again and sucked on it, licking as much of her cunt as I could reach with my fingers up inside her. She cried out again and I felt her cunt ripple around my fingers, a rush of fluid drenching my fingers. I sucked her again, and it was over, her body wrapping itself around my fingers and the windows rattling at the sound that burst from her mouth.

I pulled out carefully, and pushed her down onto the bed, wiping my mouth on my discarded shirt and then laying my body against and beside hers, holding her close to my chest. Her breasts pressed against mine in the most distracting way, so I gingerly took her lips in mine.

She responded, not as weakly as I'd expected. I slipped my hand down to squeeze her ass, and her body rippled like a wave. "Again?" she said with a wicked grin. She must have seen the animal delight in my face, because she giggled as I shifted off her slightly and cupped her with my hand.

"Your fingers didn't quite make it," she informed me, and with that I felt I had permission to explore her with them. She was that slick sort of wet that comes after orgasm, not as sweet as before she came, but with her body all lined up the way it should be I finally truly discovered her.

I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling back a little when I entered her, feeling the passion in my back and shoulders and oh, my fingers. "You're... feel so fine," I managed, kissing her softly. Her cunt was responding to me, getting slicker with thick welcoming love. I buried my face in her chest, not kissing or licking, just to have those glorious tits close to my lips. She had one arm around my back and the other on my ass, pulling it up with every stroke of my fingers.

When she locked her leg around mine it was too much, and I came powerfully, crying my passion into her breasts. All the energy fled me for a moment, and I paused, almost collapsing onto her. Then her cunt squeezed my fingers, breathing life back into my arm. I stroked her inside, and then slipped out, feeling her nub between my fingers.

She kissed me deeply, and then her fingers stole between my legs, slipping inside my lips. I sighed, funnelling the glorious feeling of her playing my body into my own fingers. Our bodies sang sweetly together, and ended on the same note.

* * * *

It was a few days later when she reappeared in my estate, slauntering in like one of those sirens her old ship was named for. "Missed you," I said lightly, turning from my desk to face her. In her arms I'd found some comfort from the devastation of my mother's death, but it still weighed heavy on me. I was copying out invitations for her funeral

"The same to you," she said, not even pausing on her way up the stairs. I snorted at her assertiveness and followed, taking in the glory of her ass, swaying in front of my face like a "Free Money" sign.

She took me roughly the moment I closed my bedroom door, ripping my shirt in her impatience. She was pretty hard on my wardrobe, admittedly. But before we got to the bed, I noticed a huge bruise on her arm, just above her wrist.

I stopped her. "Is that a bruise?" I asked. "You haven't been fighting without me, have you?"

"Just some asshole," she said, avoiding my gaze.

"Played too rough?" I asked, trying to control the hot rush of fury in my heart.

"You could say," she said, pushing me down hard on the bed.

I let her, but didn't lay down. "Is he alive?" I pressed. She nodded, straddling my legs, but the fire in her touch was gone. "That's too bad for him," I said, standing up, holding her hips against mine. I'd meant to make a strong statement by standing, but her breasts in my face were just too great to let go of. So I botched on both counts: the statement and the sex.

"You said you wouldn't do that," she protested, squirming out of my grasp and landing lightly on the ground.

I wondered if begging would work. Probably not. "Two choices: you tell me what he looks like, his name, and where I can find him... or I publicly embarass you by bribing the barkeep to tell me."

"Hawke..."

"God, do you know how much I need to kill him?" I said, restraining my anger and clenching my hands.

"He's very tall, big, black hair and a big bushy mustache. Big hands too. You can find him in Darktown near where that boy sells illegal stuff."

"Name?" I said, strapping on one of the longswords I keep around. I wanted blood - my huge mace just wouldn't make the cut. So to speak.

She shrugged. "Dunno."

"You'll stay here?" I said.

"Maybe. Do you have some bread?"

I opened the door and stormed out, throwing over my shoulder, "Also soup, in the kitchen."

The place was easy to find. I kicked open the door, and there he was, napping I guess. His ass was naked and very hairy, but the sound of my entering woke him up and he scrambled to cover himself with the blanket.

My first cut went most of the way through his hand. By the time I'd gotten the sword around he'd stood, his business dangling obscenely, and I think he was going to tackle me before I cut all the way through his other wrist. Blood squirted across the room, staining the opposite wall.

I cut his gut, and the intestines started spilling out. He collapsed heavily on the bed, screaming.

Then I sat in the single chair and watched him die. It took a long time.

When I returned to the estate, Isabela was sleeping in my bed. I was so surprised I almost exclaimed outright, but I managed to bite my tongue, not wishing to wake her.

My Isabela. I sat at the table in my room and considered her. She slept with her mouth slightly open, sprawled out on the bed without any blankets. She'd taken off her shoulder plate, necklace, and boots, and in sleep she looked smaller, more vulnerable. I looked at my hands, big and blocky, the hands of a warrior, but soft, too - a woman's hands, the hands of a person who killed because that was what she was good at, not because she wanted to. She was safe with me, and I wondered if she was beginning to realize that. Telling her I loved her felt good, certainly, but they were only words. I think I'd shown her enough through the years... but there was no point in thinking about this.

I hoped she knew that I held her in the highest esteem, cherished her every word, her every movement - I hoped she knew that if it wouldn't be completely embarrassing, if she wouldn't laugh and reject it, I would bring her every treat her heart ever desired. I'd even gone to the docks once, to see how much a ship would cost. Far outside of my means - but that was one gift I knew she would never reject. One day, I swore to myself that I would find a way to get her a ship. Even if that meant she sailed out of my life, forever.

Finally, I unstrapped my longsword, changed into my sleeping robe, and gathered a few more blankets. I spread them over her, as carefully as I could, and then slid in next to her. Sleep came slowly, as it had the night we camped. I didn't touch her, but she was like a furnace, warming every piece of me that was near.

When morning broke, she was gone.
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