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The Talk

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Isabela is pacing.

 

Hawke can see her out of the corner of her eye from where she leans against the bar of the Hanged Man. She’s been at it for a few minutes now, since pacing for five minutes, heading back upstairs to her room, the coming back down to pace again.

 

She’s not even drinking.

 

Hawke would go and ask her what’s wrong but she’s not sure what to do with nervous Isabela; it’s an anomaly. The pirate is confident and seemingly fearless as far as Hawke has seen. Especially when in the Hanged Man. Isabela’s usual self-assurance mixed with whatever Corff is serving is something to be seen. Hawke’s not sure she likes the idea that it may just be bravado.

 

She’s about to find out though.

 

Isabela finally heads towards her, gets a foot way, before changing her mind and turning around again. Hawke is unable to take any more, reaches out to grab her arm to stop her.

 

“What the hell is going on Isabela?” she asks, Isabela tugs her arm free of Hawke’s loose hold but remains where she stands.

 

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

 

“Drinking...” Hawke says. “As usual.”

 

“Just drinking?”

 

“Yes?” Hawke frowns. “Isabela what the fuck is going on?”

 

“You’ve not come to...talk to me.”

 

“Talk to you? Do you want to talk? Is everything okay?”

 

“No! Yes! I mean.”

 

Hawke can’t handle this, downs her drink, orders another. Then, after a moment, orders one for Isabela too.

 

“Please drink, you’re giving me a headache.”

 

Isabela takes the ale, downs half of it before putting it back on the bar.

 

“I thought you were here to give me a talk,” she says. “About Bethany.”

 

It all falls into place, and Hawke manages not to laugh, schools her features for a moment before uttering, “ah.”

 

“I mean, she’s your baby sister, I thought you were going to warn me off her,” she says, “or warn me not to hurt her or you’ll do something nasty.”

 

Hawke does laugh then because Isabela is so sincere and melancholy in her expectations. Isabela glares at her and grabs her drink to down the rest while Hawke tries to calm herself down. It’s hard though, because the angrier Isabela is, the funnier Hawke finds it.

 

Eventually, she manages to stop laughing long enough to get a few words out.

 

“Sorry, Isabela,” she says, “really.”

 

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” Isabela snaps and Hawke takes a deep breath and a long drink.

 

“Bethany is an adult,” Hawke says, “she can do whatever she wants. I may not trust you but I trust her.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And, anything I could do to you, she can do worse,” she says, “and you know that.”

 

Isabela thinks about it and swallows hard.

 

“Do you want another drink?” Hawke asks. Isabela nods.


 

Bethany kisses her, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer but pauses when Isabela doesn’t kiss back, the pirate seemingly a little distracted. She steps back and cups her cheek, smiling.

 

“What’s wrong Isabela? you’ve been tense for days now,” she asks.

 

Isabela looks at her, smiles, but Bethany is not convinced. She takes her hands and pulls her over to the bed in the centre of the pirate’s room, sitting her down onto it and joining her.

 

“I spoke to Hawke,” Isabela says, “I’ve been expecting her to have a word with me.”

 

“About what?”

 

“About you. Us.”

 

Bethany laughs.

 

“Why?”

 

“because she’s your big sister.”

 

“Were you expecting her to warn you off?” Bethany asks. She’s still holding Isabela’s hand, and she gives it a squeeze.

 

“Yes...I was hoping she would anyway.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

Isabela sighs and moves to stand, pacing the room. Bethany watches and waits until she finds her words.

 

“I will probably hurt you and I was hoping Hawke warning me off would be enough for you to get over me.”

 

Bethany smiles, kisses her again.

 

“I love you,” she says, not expecting Isabela to say it back, “I've you and you probably will hurt me and I will hurt you too maybe and we’ll find our way through it.”

 

She pulls Isabela down to lie on the bed with her and Isabela kisses her back, pushing the mage onto her back and kissing her hard.

 

“If you’re sure,”Isabela says, sounding a little like her usual self. Bethany knew this wasn’t going to be easy, it has taken her years to get close to the pirate, months to convince her Bethany’s feelings are real, weeks to wait for Isabela to decide that she has feelings too. It’s only been days since she admitted they may extend beyond fucking Bethany into every available surface.

 


“What did my sister say?” she asks, a little breathless but curious. Isabela smiles.

 

“That you’re an adult,” Isabela replies, kissing her way down Bethany’s neck, fingers already working on the fastenings of her shirt, hands slipping beneath the white fabric. “And that whatever she could do to me, you could do worse.”

 

Bethany laughs.

 

“That’s true,” she says, sitting up. “I’m working on the ability to boil your blood from the inside.”

 

“You would be truly dangerous if you weren’t so good sweetness,” Isabela says.

 

“I can set you alight right now,” Bethany tells her, “set every nerve literally on fire.” Isabela laughs, a ripple of her breath over Bethany’s nipple makes her sigh.

 

“What else?” Isabela asks, before kissing around the tight bud, then taking it into her mouth. Bethany cries out as she sucks.

 

“I can shot energy through your body, up your spine, to your brain,” she says, every word an effort as Isabela’s hands continue to strip away her

 

“You do that sometimes anyway,” Isabela says, “though usually they go down to my clit.”

 

“True,” Bethany laughs, “and they don’t kill you either.”

 

“You couldn’t kill me sweetness,” Isabela tells her, pulling her small clothes away. She leaves her boots on, Bethany has learnt quickly that Isabela has a thing for boots. Her hand slips between her thighs and Bethany opens up for her, relaxing further into the soft bed.

 

“No, but I could make you suffer.”

 

“How?” she says, fingers sliding through the damp hair at her centre. Bethany’s breath hitches, as do her hips, but Isabela goes no further, waiting for an answer.

 

“The fire and lightning not enough?”

 

“Physical pain I can endure,” Isabela smiles, and pushing a finger into her body, slowly, because she’s not quite ready for anything else. It’s good though, just enough, just right and Isabela moves slowly, draws it out as Bethany’s arousal builds around her fingers and bleeds through her consciousness.

 

“Then-” she pauses as Isabela seeks out her clit, presses gently, too gently. “Then what about your worst nightmares,” she suggests, not that she knows what they are. “your worst fears, terrible images, projected right into your mind.”

 

Isabela shivers and not in the good way and Bethany thinks she may have gone too far.

 

“You couldn’t possibly do that,” she says finally, hand still between the mage’s legs. “You’re too good, too kind, you don’t know any horrors.”

 

“I don’t need to,” Bethany wiggles her hips against her fingers and Isabela smiles, starts to move them again and Bethany sighs. “Your mind creates the horrors, my magic would just bring it OUT!”

 

Isabela laughs at her shriek as she pushes two fingers hard into Bethany, she starts up a quick rhythm, her thumb rubbing her clit gently on every inward thrust.

 

“Maybe, but you still wouldn’t do it, you wouldn’t torture someone,” Isabela says.

 

Bethany can’t really answer, already lost to the sensations that shoot through her body with every movement. It’s always so good, and she always comes too quick, but Isabela keeps pushing even as she’s still coming down from her high. Even as she’s crying because it’s too much and too little all at once. She tries to follow Isabela’s movements, but she can’t quite keep up. Isabela has three fingers inside her, and her lips on her breast one moment, kissing her the next. She’s sure she’s not really even aware of the woman moving unless she touches her somewhere different.

 

She screams, she always screams, and Isabela soothes her through it.

 

Then she’s lying next to her, an arm draped over her stomach and Bethany settles into the crook of her arm, trying to catch her breath.

 

“My point was,” she manages, turning to look at her, “I can look after myself.”

 


 

Isabela flops down into a seat next to Hawke, drinks half her ale, then passes the rest over to Bethany who sits next to her.

 

“Hey,” she protests. “I was drinking that.”

 

Bethany takes a drink, then slides what’s left back to her sister.

 

“I’ll get you another,” Isabela says with a grin.

 

“I take it you’re feeling better?” Hawke asks.

 

“I was fine!” she protests.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. You were right though,” she says, smiling at Bethany, “she can do worse.”

 

“She wouldn’t though,” Hawke says, “right sister?”

 

There is a pause, and both women look at her before she laughs.