For the Taking, Chapter 2
Mar. 17th, 2011 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bamftastikTitle: For the Taking, Chapter 2
Characters: Isabela/Fenris, Hawke
Rating: NSFW
Words: 1,000
Summary: Hawke pays a visit to Fenris and finds that he already has a guest.
"Fenris? Are you home?"
Hawke pushed open the door, stepping across the threshold to cast her eyes about. It was unlike the elf not to greet her, to leave the entryway unguarded. She supposed he might be out; there was no reason to expect him to simply wait here until she needed him. But why then was the door unlocked?
"Fenris?"
"Hawke." He appeared on the landing above her, naked to the waist and hastily hitching a sheet around him.
She could not help but stare. "Wow. Those markings really are beautiful."
He smirked, chuckling with a slow shake of his head.
"Aren't they, though?" The figure appeared behind him, moving slow and swaying to run a hand along his arm. Grinning down at Hawke, she leaned her elbows on the banister.
"Isabela?"
She wore not a stitch of clothing, giving an exaggerated yawn as she stretched. Fenris did his best not to smile as he glanced sideways at her, but Hawke could do nothing to hide the burning in her cheeks.
"Wow. I didn't know that you two were... I'll just be going."
"What is that under you arm?" Fenris took a few steps down the stairs, turning to glance at Isabela over his shoulder. "Go put on some clothes."
She pretended to pout, but disappeared back into the bedroom.
Hawke stopped, already making for the entryway. "It's... a book. I thought that you might want it." She dropped it into Fenris' hands.
"A book?"
"Written by Shartan. The elf that helped Andraste free the slaves."
His brows drew low as he scowled. "Slaves are not taught to read."
"Oh. You... Well, it's never too late to learn."
"Or I could read it to you, if you like." Isabela appeared again on the landing behind them. She had draped a blanket round her shoulders, but it plunged low, only highlighting that which had been exposed before.
Fenris pinched shut his eyes, perhaps embarrassed at being overheard, but his lips twitched affectionately as she moved to his side and took the book from his hands.
"Hm. I do love a good story. Do you think there're any steamy bits?"
"Isabela. I need to speak with Hawke for a moment."
"Mm? Of course you do." She looked up from ruffling the pages to fix Hawke with narrowed eyes. "Just watch those mage-loving hands, Hawke."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Isabela." She grinned, watching the other woman disappear back up the stairs. When she was certain that she was out of earshot, her grin only broadened. "So you and...?"
"Don't." But still he smiled.
"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Or is there something else?"
Fenris sighed, moving to a nearby statue to run his fingers idly through the dust. "No... and yes. I have made inquiries into what Hadriana said."
"Hadriana? I thought that you didn't believe her."
"I did not. But I have begun to remember... things about my past."
"Really? Like what?"
"It is hard to say. The memories are fleeting. They come swelling, terrifying and for one moment I remember everything."
"Just one moment? And what brought this on? I mean, why now...?"
His brows drew low, the tired smirk returning as he held her eye.
"Oh. One... moment. With the swelling."
He snorted a laugh.
But Hawke folded her arms. "Tell me you're not using Isabela to get your memory back."
"Is it possible to use such a woman?" He turned away with a sigh. "I do not know. I do not think so."
"Because that would make this is just a whole new kind of weird. And it's weird enough already."
"I am well aware. But I was merely asking for your help in tracking down my sister. I now have little doubt that she exists."
"Yeah, sure." Hawke shook her head with a mystified grin. "We can do that."
"Good." He turned again for the stairs, adjusting the blanket round his waist. "Now if you will excuse me..."
"Maker's breath, you're throwing me out?"
"It is my house. And you may have noticed that I am rather... occupied."
"Right. I'm gone. Have fun." Holding up her hands, Hawke smirked and backed toward the door.
When he reached the landing, Fenris cast a glance back at the entryway. Hawke was not wrong in her suspicions, but nor could he be certain that she was right. Stepping into the bedroom, he stopped short.
Isabela had discarded her sheet, standing outlined before the fire with the book open in one hand. "You should hear this part. Sit."
He moved to the bed, reclining back on his elbows with a quiet grin.
"'And Andraste drew her blade, leveling it at the soldier's throat.'" Isabela mimicked the motion, holding out her free arm in a pantomimed thrust. The firelight flickered over tensing muscle, reflected on the swaying of her ample curves. "'She held him there, weighing him with her gaze.'"
"Come here."
"Aw, but this part is good."
"Come here."
She glanced up at him with a wicked smirk before letting the book drop to the carpet. In a single, fluid motion she was on him, crouching over him to trail nibbling kisses along his cheek. His hands traced hungrily along her back, the stirring of the sheet between them unmistakable.
But Isabela sat back, resting her weight against his hips. Her fingers traced now along the patters of his chest. "You know, you do not need words to tell a story. Many sailors have tattoos like this, many of them tell a tale."
"I doubt that their tattoos are made of lyrium."
"Indeed not." She leaned low, running a hand along a particular series of markings on his inner arm. "This one here, perhaps. This looks like a woman, a beautiful and untouched maiden. But this curve here – you see? – this is her lover and he..." Her lips found his ear, the heat of their whisper bringing a laugh from deep in his throat.
"And now every time I look down at my arm, I will have to picture that."
"Exactly." Grinning, she nipped at his nose.
Fenris pushed himself upward, spinning to pin her beneath him. "What ever am I going to do with you?"
"I can think of a few things."
Characters: Isabela/Fenris, Hawke
Rating: NSFW
Words: 1,000
Summary: Hawke pays a visit to Fenris and finds that he already has a guest.
"Fenris? Are you home?"
Hawke pushed open the door, stepping across the threshold to cast her eyes about. It was unlike the elf not to greet her, to leave the entryway unguarded. She supposed he might be out; there was no reason to expect him to simply wait here until she needed him. But why then was the door unlocked?
"Fenris?"
"Hawke." He appeared on the landing above her, naked to the waist and hastily hitching a sheet around him.
She could not help but stare. "Wow. Those markings really are beautiful."
He smirked, chuckling with a slow shake of his head.
"Aren't they, though?" The figure appeared behind him, moving slow and swaying to run a hand along his arm. Grinning down at Hawke, she leaned her elbows on the banister.
"Isabela?"
She wore not a stitch of clothing, giving an exaggerated yawn as she stretched. Fenris did his best not to smile as he glanced sideways at her, but Hawke could do nothing to hide the burning in her cheeks.
"Wow. I didn't know that you two were... I'll just be going."
"What is that under you arm?" Fenris took a few steps down the stairs, turning to glance at Isabela over his shoulder. "Go put on some clothes."
She pretended to pout, but disappeared back into the bedroom.
Hawke stopped, already making for the entryway. "It's... a book. I thought that you might want it." She dropped it into Fenris' hands.
"A book?"
"Written by Shartan. The elf that helped Andraste free the slaves."
His brows drew low as he scowled. "Slaves are not taught to read."
"Oh. You... Well, it's never too late to learn."
"Or I could read it to you, if you like." Isabela appeared again on the landing behind them. She had draped a blanket round her shoulders, but it plunged low, only highlighting that which had been exposed before.
Fenris pinched shut his eyes, perhaps embarrassed at being overheard, but his lips twitched affectionately as she moved to his side and took the book from his hands.
"Hm. I do love a good story. Do you think there're any steamy bits?"
"Isabela. I need to speak with Hawke for a moment."
"Mm? Of course you do." She looked up from ruffling the pages to fix Hawke with narrowed eyes. "Just watch those mage-loving hands, Hawke."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Isabela." She grinned, watching the other woman disappear back up the stairs. When she was certain that she was out of earshot, her grin only broadened. "So you and...?"
"Don't." But still he smiled.
"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Or is there something else?"
Fenris sighed, moving to a nearby statue to run his fingers idly through the dust. "No... and yes. I have made inquiries into what Hadriana said."
"Hadriana? I thought that you didn't believe her."
"I did not. But I have begun to remember... things about my past."
"Really? Like what?"
"It is hard to say. The memories are fleeting. They come swelling, terrifying and for one moment I remember everything."
"Just one moment? And what brought this on? I mean, why now...?"
His brows drew low, the tired smirk returning as he held her eye.
"Oh. One... moment. With the swelling."
He snorted a laugh.
But Hawke folded her arms. "Tell me you're not using Isabela to get your memory back."
"Is it possible to use such a woman?" He turned away with a sigh. "I do not know. I do not think so."
"Because that would make this is just a whole new kind of weird. And it's weird enough already."
"I am well aware. But I was merely asking for your help in tracking down my sister. I now have little doubt that she exists."
"Yeah, sure." Hawke shook her head with a mystified grin. "We can do that."
"Good." He turned again for the stairs, adjusting the blanket round his waist. "Now if you will excuse me..."
"Maker's breath, you're throwing me out?"
"It is my house. And you may have noticed that I am rather... occupied."
"Right. I'm gone. Have fun." Holding up her hands, Hawke smirked and backed toward the door.
When he reached the landing, Fenris cast a glance back at the entryway. Hawke was not wrong in her suspicions, but nor could he be certain that she was right. Stepping into the bedroom, he stopped short.
Isabela had discarded her sheet, standing outlined before the fire with the book open in one hand. "You should hear this part. Sit."
He moved to the bed, reclining back on his elbows with a quiet grin.
"'And Andraste drew her blade, leveling it at the soldier's throat.'" Isabela mimicked the motion, holding out her free arm in a pantomimed thrust. The firelight flickered over tensing muscle, reflected on the swaying of her ample curves. "'She held him there, weighing him with her gaze.'"
"Come here."
"Aw, but this part is good."
"Come here."
She glanced up at him with a wicked smirk before letting the book drop to the carpet. In a single, fluid motion she was on him, crouching over him to trail nibbling kisses along his cheek. His hands traced hungrily along her back, the stirring of the sheet between them unmistakable.
But Isabela sat back, resting her weight against his hips. Her fingers traced now along the patters of his chest. "You know, you do not need words to tell a story. Many sailors have tattoos like this, many of them tell a tale."
"I doubt that their tattoos are made of lyrium."
"Indeed not." She leaned low, running a hand along a particular series of markings on his inner arm. "This one here, perhaps. This looks like a woman, a beautiful and untouched maiden. But this curve here – you see? – this is her lover and he..." Her lips found his ear, the heat of their whisper bringing a laugh from deep in his throat.
"And now every time I look down at my arm, I will have to picture that."
"Exactly." Grinning, she nipped at his nose.
Fenris pushed himself upward, spinning to pin her beneath him. "What ever am I going to do with you?"
"I can think of a few things."
