“Twenty… twenty se… seven,” Marian sighed, her mouth forming into an ‘o’ as she worked her jaw from side to side.
Twenty seven. Twenty seven. Twenty seven. The two words replayed over and over again through her mind, her lips soundlessly moving along with the chant. She pouted. Twenty seven! When in the void did this happen? Marian stepped closer to the looking glass and fingered the skin at the corner of her eyes, stretching out the fine lines that had started to form there over the last couple of years. Twenty seven. Her forehead hit the glass with a thud, her eyes fluttering closed as another pout graced her lips.
“Hey there, pretty girl.”
Marian suppressed a moan. Really, the pirates timing was impeccable. Of course, the Maker would deem it necessary that Isabela would feel the need to bring her bountiful bust around for a visit right in the middle of Marian’s bout of self loathing. She loved the rogue, dearly, she really did. But sometimes she just wanted to punch her right in the face. Marian pushed away from the looking glass and slowly turned, forcing a half hearted smile when she met Isabela’s eyes.
“Oh, little bird. Why so blue?” The pirate asked.
“I’m getting old, Bela.”
Isabela let out a throaty laugh at Marian’s words then pulled her in for a hug. “Sweet thing, you are far from old! Definitely still a delicious little morsel.”
Marian lifted her head from where Isabela had forced it to rest against her breasts. “A delicious little morsel?” She asked, her tone lightly laced with doubt.
“Of course. Are you blind? The way Fenris looks at you--he would bend you over a table in the middle of the Hanged Man to stake his claim if you’d allow it.”
Marian giggled; she could imagine the scowl Fenris would shoot in Isabela’s direction if he was here. Her elf didn’t take kindly to Isabela insinuating things about their sex life. Though, Marian secretly appreciated it. She could admit that her sexual knowledge was rather… limited, and if Isabela wanted to assume that her sex life was full of thrills, well then, assume away was her motto.
Isabela pulled away from Marian but took her hands in her own and led her over to the bed so they could sit. Well, Marian sat. Isabela reclined back to rest on her forearms, her left leg crossing over her right as she glanced down at her cleavage with a small smile on her lips.
“So. How are things with you and that incredibly sexy elf anyway?”
Marian looked down at her lap and started to pick at a loose thread she found there. “Um, fine, I guess,” she muttered.
“Fine? You guess?”
“We’re just, you know, taking it one day at a time.”
Isabela lazily lolled her head to face Marian and raised an eyebrow. “Andrastes saturated knickers, Hawke; the two of you have fucked since reconciling, right?”
Marian winced a little at the emphasis Isabela put on the word ‘fucked’. “Yes, of course we have!” She replied defensively.
“No, no, sweetling. I didn’t ask if you’d made love. I asked if you had fucked. Two completely different things.”
Marian crossed her arms under her breasts, turned her nose up in the air and said, “I ****,” in a haughty tone. Isabela chuckled.
“No, Hawke, you don’t. If you did, there wouldn’t be a big bubble of sexual tension surrounding you and Fenris. You have three years to catch up on. Making love just isn’t going to cut it,” Isabela sat up then and turned her body towards Marian. “You both need it. Nothing strengthens a relationship more than trust, and what better way to build that trust by completely opening yourselves up to each other in private. Or public, which ever takes your fancy.”
Marian studied Isabela with a suspicious eye before finally giving in, letting out a huff of breath. “Fine, what do you suggest?”
Isabela clapped her hands together in glee before pulling out a book from… Wait, where did she even store something like that on her person? Marian gave the pirate a quick once over from head to toe. Nope, she had no idea where Isabela could possibly keep it.
“So, happy birthday!” The book was shoved firmly into Marian’s hands, an expectant smile plastered on Isabela’s face.
Marian looked down at the book. How very odd, there was no title embossed on the rich brown leather cover. She brought the book up to her face and gave it a small sniff; her actions resulting in an arched eyebrow from Isabela. Marian shrugged her shoulders. “What? I like the smell of books.”
“Yes, well, open it,” Isabela leaned in; eyes bright with excitement and Marian complied, flipping the book open part way through.
She felt her face flood with warmth before her brain had even fully comprehended what she was looking at. Her mouth fell open and Marian quickly snapped the book shut. That was, that was… Marian felt a small tingle of arousal in the bottom of her stomach as her cheeks heated even more. Gah, her skin was probably blending into the red of her hair by now.
Marian took a deep breath and reopened the book, slowly turning page after page, then brought her eyes up from the very detailed illustrations to meet Isabela’s. “Maker, Bela. I’m a Mage, not a bloody contortionist! The Two Legged Mabari?” Marian turned a page. “The Qunari Horn Holder?” Another page. “And look at this one, is that even possible? A penis doesn’t even bend that way!”
“Well that one I haven’t personally tried. Haven’t yet found a man game enough. A shame, really.” Marian shut the book, brought it up to her chest and crossed her arms over it, clutching it to her body. Her brown eyes big and wide, she stared at the pirate without blinking.
“You’ve got a lithe little body, and you’re tiny. Fenris could pick you up, raise you up above his head and lob you a good distance if he was so inclined to do so. He will have no trouble supporting your weight.”
“I… I…” Marian stumbled over her words, and then turned pleading eyes on Isabela.
“Oh, sweetling.” She tucked some loose strands of Marian’s hair behind her ear. “Trust me; it would do the both of you a world of good. At least give it some serious consideration?” Marian bit her bottom lip and gave a dumb nod as Isabela gave her thigh a small, encouraging pat.
“Good girl. Now I think it’s time we made our way down to the Hanged Man. Maybe you will get **** faced enough to break that bad boy out tonight with Fenris.”
Marian gave a nervous giggle and stood to follow Isabela out of her bedroom but was promptly stopped by the pirate at the door. “Are you going to bring that with you?” She nodded at the book Marian still held to her chest.
“Oh, uh yes. No! No. I mean, noooooo.”
Marian hurriedly shoved the book into a chest that sat beside her armoire, then made her way down to the entrance hall where Isabela awaited her.
********
Marian rubbed at her eyes until the post sleep bleariness eased. She stretched, fingers interlocked and arms pulled taught above her head as her gaze flicked around the room. She could see the back of his head, resting against the feathered mattress at the end of the bed. Marian stifled a yawn and then smiled before wiggling out from beneath the covers and crawling towards Fenris.
“What are you doing?” she asked, an arm looping around his shoulders, eyes closed and her face nuzzling into fine, soft strands of pale hair.
“Reading.”
Marian popped her eyes open and let her gaze drop down to Fenris’ lap. He had become such a bookworm ever since learning how to read.
She squawked, then mentally battled between slapping a hand over her mouth, and fighting to the death to retrieve that wonderfully, erotic book. It seems fighting to the death was going to win out. Marian pushed up from the bed and propelled her body to the floor only to land in an unceremonious heap beside Fenris.
He arched his eyebrows at her, watching as Marian seemed to nonchalantly smooth her hair back from her face, yet didn’t move from the awkward tangle of limbs she'd made.
“Um, so… can I please have the book?”
Fenris brought his hand to her face and traced the line of her jaw with the rough pad of his finger, then turned back to the book. “No.”
Marian huffed but watched silently as Fenris folded the corner of the page he was currently studying before flipping it over to the next illustration.
“What are you doing?” Marian asked as she finally moved into a sitting position.
“Marking pages,” Fenris stated dryly.
“Why?”
Fenris turned back to Marian, his brows crinkling together. “For future reference.”
Marian blushed and lent forward a little to peek at the current page. “I am assuming, Marian, that since you have the book in your possession, that you were planning on using it.”
Marian straightened and folded her arms, her cheeks still warm and a little embarrassed that Fenris had found her birthday present. “And how, exactly, did you come to find it?” she asked.
Fenris went back to perusing as he spoke. “It was in my chest.”
“No. It. Was. Not.”
Fenris frowned. “Yes. It. Was,” he mimicked. “It was in the chest beside your armoire—” he pointed with his index finger “—the chest you insisted I have for spare clothes for when I spend the night. My. Chest.”
“Oh, right. Well, there’s no need to be so correct about it.” Marian glared at him before looking away and mumbling under her breath, “bloody know it all.”
Fenris bit down on his bottom lip, trying to suppress his smile then cleared his throat. “So, are there any that you are partial to?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, I haven’t really had a chance to look yet.”
Marian squirmed closer and rested her chin on Fenris’ shoulder, hiding her face from his view as she peered down at the book.
“You do—” Fenris paused, hesitating slightly with his question “—I mean to say, are you interested in trying some?”
Marian glanced up at her elf; he certainly seemed interested in trying a few, maybe even more than a few. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek, mulling her answer over until she realized how long she had been silent for, and that Fenris’ chest was no longer rising and falling with his intake of breath.
“I think that yes, I would like to try—” Fenris exhaled discreetly “—as long as you don’t scamper for the hills if it all turns out terribly.”
Fenris adjusted the position of his head so he could narrow his eyes at her. “What? Too soon?” She asked.
“Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor is horrible?”
Marian gave him a small quirk of her lips. “Carver always said that I was better at being the butt of the joke, rather than the one telling it.”
Fenris grunted. “Wisest thing I’ve ever heard come from his mouth.”
Marian pouted then gently bit into his shoulder. “Hey, be nice. Or this—” she tapped at the book “—isn’t going to happen.”
Fenris smirked and they both turned their eyes back to the book.
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