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Softly	By : chipperdyke Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 11470 -:- 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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1. Sweet Thing

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants-leg. After the ill-fated Deep Roads expedition, I'd bought the Hawke estate and left my companions to their own devices for a few weeks, but I'd needed backup to go prowling in Lowtown after dark. Isabela came along, and it seemed that with her memory jolted the beautiful pirate wanted more.

"So this is where you live. Not bad," Isabela conceded, surveying the old manor. "I preferred the old place. It had... more charm."

I shook her head, wondering how Isabela's voice could be sultry and syrupy at the same time. It might have been the Rivain accent.

"You're talking about the shack I shared with my mother, uncle, and sister," I said disbelievingly.

"I meant Lowtown. Dirty, chaotic, glorious Lowtown. The smell of tar, and the sea... and the sound of some whore plying her trade in a back alley." She snorted, leaning casually against a pillar at the base of the stairs. "Don't you miss that?" Her look was piercing.

"You can get your thrills in Hightown, if you know where to look."

Isabela stood and approached me. "Oh," she said, so close I could have reached out and touched her. "And where would that be?"

"I can show you what I had in mind," I said, breathing in Isabela's scent, musky and brinish. We made it to the top of the stairs before she pushed me against the wall and took her mouth in hers. She impatiently pressed her core against my thigh, her tiny skirt providing easy access. I bent and picked Isabela up, and she wrapped her legs around my hips. I could feel her juices through my shirt. I was borne away by her passionate, savage rhythm as we stumbled through the door, and I pulled her daggers off her as she ravaged my neck and lips.

I fell back onto my four-poster bed, and Isabela bit down hard on my lips, placing one hand on my breast. I arched into it, squeezing the pirate's firm bottom. She pulled away and produced yet another dagger, tossing it aside with a flourish. The pause was far too long for me, and I reached for her, dying to drown again in her full lips, her savage grace.

She whipped off my shirt, revealing a naked bosom with nipples at attention, and kissed her way down to them, shifting so that one of her thighs rested between mine. The sensation of her lips brushing my skin was nigh intolerable, and I moaned, slipping my fingers under her skirt again and tracing the line of her hip. My lips and fingertips were numb, and my vision was narrowing, while the blood thrummed in my body like I was a lute, and she my player.

When she latched on to my nipple, every fiber of my body strained into her softness. I had never wished a woman to ravage me, but since the moment I first set eyes upon her, I needed her fingers on me, brushing lightly over my defined stomach and shoulders, her tongue – oh, her tongue, finally now, hard against my stiff nipple. It sent a stab of electric passion through my body, straight to my clit.

But in a moment it was gone, and she pulled away, speaking softly. "With that pesky armor... hard to see... oh God, your body." Her breath was cool against my wet breast, and now my nipple was so hard it hurt. She grinned up at me, and then took my lips again, flattening herself against the aforementioned body, bringing the softness of her breasts against mine. The sudden fulfillment of my every desire was almost dizzying, and I dug my fingernails into her back. I was acutely aware of my core against her naked leg; she must have felt my wetness through the flimsy material of my pants, because she pushed lightly up with her leg. I blush to admit that I rocked into her like a virgin.

I suppose she liked it, though, because with no preamble she shifted and slipped her hand into my pants, dipping in to my thick juices. I think I might have gurgled, but certainly my entire body relaxed into the utter bliss of her touch, forgetting all dignity in the rush of dumb desire.

Isabela’s eyes danced as she pulled back out and kissed me softly on the lips and eyelids, her body still poised a few inches above mine. "Tease," I muttered, blushing. I busied my fingers at the ties that kept her outfit together, realizing quickly that they were deceptively secure. She was still teasing my skin gently, brushing her lips against the skin of my neck now. Frustrated, and more aroused than I had any rights to be, I ran my hands up from her hips to her full breasts, cupping them softly.

Suddenly her body was a ball of tension, and my hands fell away instinctively. I couldn't see her face, but I could hear her breath in my ear, harsh.

"No touching there?" I asked softly.

She nodded into my hair. "Ever," she said, and her voice was laden with steel.

I'd encountered women who had strange preferences, but this was a truly heartbreaking one. I sighed. "But your clothes?"

Isabela snorted and worked out the ties that had been giving me so much trouble, dropping the entire garment off the side of the bed and grinding her core against my bare stomach. I was completely entranced by her body, the body of a goddess, dusky, curvey and hard in all the right places. Finally, she bent down and whispered, "Breathe, Hawke." I took a deep breath and tenderly kissed Isabela's cheek, arching into her core and clutching her body close, relishing the feeling of Isabela's full breasts against my chest. If I couldn't touch them with my hands, I'd pay very close attention when they pressed against me.

She nibbled my neck, and I tried to push her to the bed, intending to roll on top of her. It was like trying to move a rhinoceros's horn to the side of its face: she simply refused to move. I tried again, but she completely ignored the motion. Since it would be silly to force the issue, I relented, focusing back on the movements of her hips, her warm wetness against my stomach. I worked my pants down so she could ride my mound, but she shook her head and pulled my pants off entirely, settling her head between my legs.

She bit the inside of her thigh, hard, and then farther up, and then, very deliberately, she licked my lips.

This was a new feeling for me, and I froze, not sure what sort of response she was looking for. She chuckled huskily and licked again, sucking on my clit, making fireworks go off behind my eyes. Her silky touch drove me to oblivion. A throaty moan escaped me, and I had to stop myself from thrusting my hips.

A minute later, Isabela's fingers slipped into my throbbing cunt. All other awareness fell away, but that of her fingers pumping inside me, her mouth continuing its tender ministrations. It was unbelievable; Isabela filled my body, with each pump driving deeper into me, owning me, violating my very identity in the absoluteness of her domination, installing herself inside with a vengeance that made me suddenly doubt that I would ever walk again without feeling her there, deep inside, filling me. An electric tension was building, my inside already rippling against her fingers.

And then she stopped again, pulling out and laying her body flat against mine. I could feel her elaborate necklace pressing cold against my collarbone. "Isabella!" I groaned, squeezing her back and biting her shoulder in frustration. "Want... you," I said, and put muscle into the effort to flip her on to her back.

I was stronger, but she was much faster, squirming from under me and trapping me on my stomach under her. She locked my hands behind my back and whispered, "Now that's a naughty kitten." She bit my ear, and then I felt her core against my fingers, dripping onto my lower back. Unthinking, I plunged my fingers into her swollen opening, wondering at the way her body responded, squeezing my fingers and then opening like a flower in the morning. I couldn't put my shoulder or arm into fucking her, which was disconcerting, so I resorted to three fingers and fine detail work, stroking the hard plate and then the soft velvet of her inner core, moaning into the sheets and writhing in complete frustration. The only thing that satisfied me, the thing that stopped me from throwing this game away completely, turning around, and fucking her into next year, was the power of her leather-clad knees digging into my sides, the feeling of her nails on my back, and her inside drawing me in. I found my body responding to hers, driving my hips into the bed as her body gripped my fingers again. I wondered if it was possible to come by just touching someone.

I found the nub deep inside her, and rolled it with my fingers. Her body thrummed above me, and then she was gripping my upper chest with her hands, tweaking my nipples, her cunt rippling. I pulled my fingers out of her petulantly, whispering, "There's no way I'm gonna - "

She flipped me over, slipping between my legs and bringing our cores into contact. I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling back at the sensation. Carrie and I had tried this, but it hadn't worked - Isabela knew how to make it work, or maybe our bodies fit just right. I gripped her leg, and her arm -

It was over within a minute. Isabela came first, her orgasm so loud it probably woke the neighbors, drenching my cunt in her fluids, and I came right after, my clit digging deep into her core.

I sat up immediately and grabbed her, afraid she'd just jump up and leave. She was shaking, her eyes blank, and I pulled her to my chest, cradling her suddenly delicate body in my arms. I was shaking too, my ears ringing and my extremities suddenly freezing cold. She stopped shaking in a few moments, and she struggled to rise, hiding her face.

I let her, not pushing but feeling a great emptiness where she'd been. Had she been with me, truly, at all? Or was that just the shell of her body responding to what we'd done?

She put back on her tunic, if it could be called such, and leaned on the bed. "That was..." she chuckled. "Thank you," she said, turning fully toward me again. I was once again smitten by her beauty, her composure and the warmness she could place on every syllable. "I should go," she said, turning away again and rolling her eyes. "I wouldn't want to take advantage of your... hospitality."

"I like to be taken advantage of," I said lightly, stroking her shoulder, still naked in the bed. I wanted to leap up and take her in my arms; I wanted to kiss her so hard, feel her body beneath me and hear that dusky voice cry out again for me. But she was so obviously gone, almost professional in the way she adjusted her outfit, addressing me again.

"It was fun, wasn't it? Well, you know, if you ever want to do it again..."

This made me laugh. "Like... right now? In ten minutes? Maybe tomorrow morning? Tomorrow night?"

She grinned back at me. "Now you're just sounding desperate."

"Shit. Maybe I am desperate," I said, suddenly worried.

"Wait. We don't have a misunderstanding, do we? Let's not bring... feelings into this."

I was shocked into speechlessness for a moment. Then I frowned. "Since when does being desperate for incredible sex mean I'm soft and emotional?"

"It's in your eyes," she informed me. "You know, love's not for everyone. Love's not for me. It's just... messy." She shrugged as if words couldn't quite convey exactly how messy love was.

I sputtered. "Love?" I finally managed.

"Did you know I was once married?" she said, leaning against one of the bed's corners. "When I was freed, I swore I would never marry again."

I worked through this sudden subject change, wondering whether it was avoidance or elaboration. "Freed? How do you mean?" I finally said, scooting closer to the end of the bed and propping my head up on my arm.

"My husband took an assassin's blade to the back of the skull," Isabela said, some hardness coming into her tone. "And before you start jumping to conclusions, no, I didn't hire the assassin." She grinned. "I did thank him profusely, however. Ahh, Zevrin. He was an artist."

"If you so disliked the man, why did you marry him?"

Isabela laughed mirthlessly. "I was his plaything, a prized possession. He saw me with my mother at the market in Llomerryn and decided he had to have me." She looked away. "My mother gave me away for a goat and a handful of gold coins. She didn't even haggle over the price! Bitch," she spat.

Whew, I thought, gathering my wits. "So that's it for love?"

"Well, no. I fell in love with a man not long after my husband died. He foolishly asked for my hand, and I fled, not wanting to be tied down again. It destroyed him."

"Love 'em and leave 'em, huh?"

"Right! He should have known better."

"Just like me?" I said. She stood and looked at me hard. "I would never tie you down, Isabela. I don't want you pushing me away because you're worried I'll get attached like he did. People... love... in different ways."

"I'm glad you don't intend to, how did you put it? 'Tie me down?'" Isabella said, frowning. "Now, if you're done trying to confuse the issue, I'm going to go." I wonder if she did pause before she walked out my bedroom door.

* * * *

I found her a few days later at the docks, watching a ship get loaded for a long voyage. "Isabela," I acknowledged, standing with her. I could almost feel the longing radiate off her.

"Stevan Hawke. Now you're a sight for sore eyes," Isabela said, inclining her head a little. "Back with the armor, it's almost like you prefer not to be ravaged by the eyes of random passerby."

I shrugged, the great plates of my armor exaggerating the motion. "I'm looking into a note I received from Feynriel's mother, the half-elf we helped last year."

"Always so prepared," Isabella noted. There was a hardness to her tone that disturbed me. Suddenly she took my hand, leading me down a stairway. She ducked under a barrier, beckoning me when I hesitated.

We were under the docks, with sand and a few sharp, jutting rocks between us and the crashing waves. I could taste the ocean spray on her lips as she spun around to kiss me passionately. "This damn armor," she whispered. "Always getting in the way."

She pulled one of her long, ugly daggers out of its back scabbard and pressed it against my gut, the protection light around such a mobile area. "I can only think of one way to fix this problem."

She bent and cut one of the fastenings that kept my thigh plate in place. I bit my protest back as she worked the armored plate off me, and shifted her attention to its partner, burying her face in my crotch as she did so.

"You aren't sincerely considering..." I said slowly, and with that she cut straight through the padded suit I wear under the plates, nicking my thigh carelessly. I believe they call it girdling in forestry, when a tree is cut around its circumference; regardless, she completely ruined my pants, and my thighs were bleeding onto my underclothes, pain knocking persistently on the door of my consciousness. I breathed out with an incoherent vocalization. "Isabela, this isn't really the... place..." She turned the knife up and cut through the fastenings that held my buttock-plates and groin plate in place, skimming dangerously near the throbbing veins of my thighs.

A particularly large wave came up, soaking my boots and spraying my face with brine. She giggled and licked the water and blood off my bare thigh. The sensation overwhelmed me, my wet cunt remembering the glory of her tongue, the pain mixing with the beating rhythm of the waves, the icy wind whipping my hair and bringing another gale of spray upon our bodies.

She tossed the leather and metal aside and stood to unfasten my greatsword. It must have hit the ground, but in that moment her honey eyes were all I could feel, all I could think.

And then she threw me against a jutting rock, my face in the spray of another breaking wave. She plastered her body against my back, her fingers deftly exploring my naked legs, and I pressed against her, spreading my legs and hoping, hoping...

She withdrew quickly, and then her fingers caressed my ass, before plunging into my cunt. All awareness left me, of anything but her quick, almost violent ministrations. I slowly became aware of her teeth biting my ass, her other hand carefully stroking my clit... the thought made me come early, the climax rolling over my body without any real release. "How dare you," Isabela snapped in my ear, and she threw me off the rock into the surf.

The water washed over my face, blinding me, and before I surfaced I felt Isabela's hand on my mouth, pushing the back of my head down against the sand. Is she trying to drown me? I thought, feeling the stab of betrayal before her fingers caressed my raw core again, more gently this time. I tried to still myself, aware of my lungs, only half-full of air, and of the salty water burning my eyes and nose. Her fingers established a rhythm in me, and with rising passion I had only to wonder whether first I would pass out, or come.

Isabela timed the whole thing perfectly, and the most amazing orgasm ripped through me, engulfing my entire consciousness in something that felt like floating, or flying. I think I probably passed out, because the next thing I knew she was holding my body out of the water. I spent the next few minutes trying to cough the water out of my lungs, with a bit of coaching from Isabela.

"You alright, sport?" she asked finally, when it seemed like I might be able to answer.

I felt like my heart might burst. Her tone was just so warm, the question felt like a caress. "Thank you, oh, wow." I gripped her arm, coughing a bit. "Can I..."

Isabela pulled me in, holding me for probably an indecent amount of time. My heart glowed and shivered under her attention. It felt like only moments before she pulled away, though, critically examining my ruined armor. "A blanket would probably help," she observed.

I grinned fiercely, trying to wipe my face of the water. "I really don't care," I ground out, my throat uncooperative.

Isabela raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"I..." I shivered a little, my body temperature finally catching up to the locale. "That, what you did, was worth the worst humiliation, and walking through Kirkwall showing off what you do every time you move? Not all that bad."

"My modest knight," Isabela purred. "That must've been one hell of an orgasm."

I closed the remaining distance between us and took her lips in a tender kiss. She returned it, but neither of us escalated. "You don't need... anything?" I finally asked, ready to muster up some passion but not sure if it would be quite up to par.

She slapped my ass, and then squeezed it. "I got what I came for," she said, and winked.

Isabela certainly knew her way around belts, and she used a few from the top of my armor (as well as a few of her own) to make my outfit almost decent. "I've got an appointment to make," she said after we emerged from below the docks, and she sauntered away. I watched her go, for once not ashamed.

Then I scampered as quickly as I could to Ander's clinic, adding a pair of flea-ridden hemp knickers to my wardrobe.

* * * *

I walked in to the Hanged Man in search of Isabela. After the journey into Feynriel's consciousness, and her betrayal through the Desire demon we found there, she'd been more reserved with me. It was starting to bother me, because I understood why she did it, and I didn't blame her in the slightest. Maybe she wanted to prove that, faced with the same choice, she would not repeat her mistake. Yet I didn't consider it a mistake at all, to take the side of the demon and gain a ship for the trouble? The better I knew her, the more I realized how lost she was without a ship, without a crew - the only reason she stayed with me, I suspected, was to find meaning in their absence. The sex was just incidental.

I distinctly remember accepting my body's place in her heart (a very small place) in the very same moment as I looked up and saw, across the tavern, a man on a stool next to her put his hand on her arm. I sized him up as I strode to them, a man broad of shoulder, with a thick head of hair. My ears were ringing.

I placed my naked dagger against his wrist, interrupting him. "If you want to keep that hand, you'll do well to get out of here. Now."

All the color drained out of his face, and he dropped his hand.

Isabela turned on her stool, an eyebrow cocked. "Just what do you think you're doing, Hawke?" she asked, her voice dangerously level.

I stammered at that, finally spitting out, "I refuse to watch... I have the perfect right..."

"Yes, if you were threatening, say, old Mister Flowerpot over there," she gestured to a corner, where an old man appeared to be loudly huffing a drug. She hopped off her stool, light on her feet. "Not a fine stallion I'm in the process of mounting."

"Fine," I said. "I'll kill him after you have your fun."

She almost looked shocked. The man scrambled off his stool. "I, uh, it was goo - great! - meeting you, goodbye!" He nearly sprinted out of the tavern.

"You can't be serious, Hawke. You'd never murder a man out of spite."

"I've killed in cold blood, Isabela," I reminded her softly.

"And I saw the tears in your eyes as you did it, both times," she retorted, staring me down. I was just the slightest bit taller than her, but as always she managed to dominate.

I took a deep breath. "Three times, actually. It gets no easier. I..." I broke her gaze, gathering my thoughts. "You can do what you wish, but I can't watch you do it. Please don't make me."

"Hawke," she said softly. "You overstep your boundaries. I can do what I want with my body."

I breathed deeply again. "I will kill any man who - " She put her finger against my lips, and produced a handkerchief from somewhere.

She stepped around me, and tied the handkerchief into a blindfold over my eyes. "Come with me," she said, and so I did, stumbling a few times on unseen obstacles.

We walked for perhaps ten minutes, a long and twisty journey filled with the ghosts of men's voices and the snapping of old maids, before she released my hand, and I heard a door close behind us. I reached up to remove the blindfold, but she slapped my hand away, pushing me, hard, between my shoulder blades. I fell forward, catching myself with my arms, only to have them knocked away, too. I was laying on a blanket, the smell of moldy straw heavy in the air. Probably a bed - hers?

She tore open the back of my shirt, still eerily silent. Then I heard her get up and open a drawer. "You better hold still, kitten," she said, coming back.

I involuntarily tensed at that, wondering what she had in store. She stuffed some cloth in my mouth, and I accepted it, trepidation growing. She took my hands and drew them away from my body, guiding them to what was probably a bedpost. "Hold on tight," she whispered, and started cutting my back.

Under the docks, the pain had mixed with erotic sensation. I hadn't appreciated her carelessness, but Anders easily fixed those shallow cuts. These were not shallow cuts. Slowly, I realized she was also doing something to the cuts - sprinkling something on them, probably. Whatever it was, it hurt more than anything. I was a warrior; I had survived countless battles, with darkspawn and demon, and any other foe that dared cross my path. But this was absolute torture, without the rush of battle or the giddy glee of triumph to take the bite out of pain.

I have no idea how long she worked. Eventually I spat out the cloth, preferring to grit my teeth and moan audibly. Finally she finished, dusting her hands off and vocally admiring her handiwork. "That'll be a scar to remember," she said, and then she pried my fingers off the bedpost and pulled me to my feet, with the handkerchief still on my face. She put a blanket around my shoulders, took my hand, and led me back out of the room, down a twisted pathway made perhaps more convoluted by the fact that she obviously didn't want me to retrace our steps.

She pulled off the handkerchief, and we were in the marketplace. "Run along now," she said playfully.

I turned and watched her leave, too filled with anguish to muster a word. The pain from my back was almost unbearable, but the ache in my heart? Much worse.
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Softly