Warning: semi-explicit under 18 masturbation (Marian is fifteen).
Notes: Written in response to a prompt on the Dragon Age kink meme: Lady Hawke realising she is gay and in love with her friend. Allison is from DA:O; she's the woman in Lothering who asks the PC for traps.
Marian Hawke is fifteen summers when she first notices the curve of Allison's neck. The planting season has just begun, and though Mother and Father warn their mundane daughter and son against growing too friendly, too familiar, with their fellow villagers—Bethany, they must protect Bethany—they cannot refuse the much needed coin Marian's and Carver's aid brings in. In the two seasons the Hawkes have lived in Lothering the Durants have provided them with many an odd job to put dinner on the table for one more night. Allison Durant, the recently married woman of the house, is kind and skittish, and older than Marian by five summers. Marian enjoys working for her. She makes it a game to coax a smile, even, bless, a laugh, from Allison as often as she can. Marian likes Allison's smiles and her attention.
It's planting season and Marian is almost a woman when Allison stops to tie back her hair. Her neck is slender and speckled with dark brown freckles, and for the first time Marian seesthem. She sees the slope of her shoulders and the way her back disappears beneath the scooped neck her dress. Marian can't help but stare, until Allison turns to her, forcing her to look away red-faced and ashamed. They pass the day quietly devoid of Marian's usual tattle. Come nightfall, Marian lingers only long enough to collect her pay.
She says little to her parents over dinner, less still to her siblings. She retires early, but does not sleep. Hours later, when her brother and sister crawl into the too-small bed they all share, Marian's mind still lingers on nervous laughs and hidden sun-kissed skin. Something stirs in her abdomen; warmth rises on her cheeks and between her legs. She squirms uncomfortably until Carver curses, reaches across Bethany, and punches her in the shoulder. She stills.
It's hard to wait until they fall asleep.
In time Bethany's breaths grow long and deep. Carver begins to snore. Marian allows her hand to drift lower, under her nightshirt, and cups herself through her smallclothes. The touch sends shivers down her spine, but does little to alleviate the heat there that is becoming more and more uncomfortable. She wonders if Allison ever feels this way. What does she do? Marian knows, of course, what can be done by a man and woman. But what of a woman alone?
What of a woman and a woman?
Marian presses against herself; another quiver jolts down her spine. She does it again.
She could ask, perhaps, the same way she asked as a child of thirteen why Allison wanted to marry. It was so hot that day; they had bathed together in a pond on the Durants' land. Allison, despite being the older, the one who should be fearless, had been so shy and determined not to be seen. While Marian splashed about, bare and proud, Allison sank down until water lapped her chin and only watched Marian out of the corner of her eye, lest the child drown.
That was how she'd been when Marian climbed on her back and all but shrieked the question in her ear. Marian still remembers the squeak, the splash as she fell back, the bemused look as though such a question was too foolish to even consider.
Perhaps, Marian thinks as she nudges her smallclothes aside to stroke her labia cautiously, asking is not a good idea.
Carver snorts as Marian slides an experimental finger against her dampening sex. She freezes, waits. No more sounds. She slips her middle finger between her lower lips and moves it in and out. It doesn't feel like much.
Still, it is a pleasant fantasy, Allison. What could Marian do to her, if she allowed it? Marian tries to imagine as she adds a second finger. She's tight and wet and she cannot tell if the potent scent is simple paranoia.
Would it be like this with Allison? Marian curls her fingers inside herself and has to bite her lip to stifle the gasp. Her legs close around her arm almost of their own accord, and she repeats the motion, rocking slightly as she does.
Would Allison do this?
Her fumbling is awkward and inexperienced, but it's enough. When Marian comes she turns her head and bites her pillow. Orgasm is nothing like Father's awful romance novels, but she's shivering and clenching around herself and this revelation isn't really a disappointment. As she comes down, leaving her fingers where they are for the time being, she sighs. For a moment she feels content.
Then Bethany sniffs and rolls over, turning her back to her sister, and shame floods Marian. She jerks her fingers from herself, unsure what to do that will not wake her siblings or leave evidence of her activities. After a moment's hesitation she takes the digits in her mouth and licks them clean. The taste is not unpleasant, a bit salty. Marian can't help but wonder if Allison tastes the same.
With no way to clean herself until morning, Marian concedes to suffer the dampness between her legs and turns so she need not face her sister and brother. She doesn't know how she will be able to face them in the morning. She doesn't know how she will be able to face Allison.
She doesn't know how she will be able to face herself. Marian is young and foolish, but she knows enough to recognize that something in her has changed, or perhaps was always there, ignored and unimportant. She can't ignore it now; that must mean something. But what?
When she finally drifts into dreams Marian finds she still has no answers.