So the Bitch Walked Into the Hanged Man
On a good day, The Hanged Man smelled of day old piss and vomit.
This was not a good day.
Hawke held up whatever nug-ass liquor she had ordered up to her lips. The shit was vile, but she was too drunk to care. Hell, she might not even care if people could see a family resemblance between her and Gamlin right now.
The Battle with the Arishok had left Hawke the Champion of Kirkwall; it had also left her barely alive, mostly alone, and fairly pissed off for the last three years.
Today was her three year anniversary of saving her lover's ass, so Isabela could waltz away scot-free: avoid responsibility, learn nothing, and leave a gaping hole where Hawke's heart had been.
Maker, Hawke was a sucker.
She heard a weapon unsheathe behind her; she turned and drew her sword.
She was fast, but drunk.
Really drunk.
If she'd thought about it, she probably wouldn't have cared if the guy killed her right now. It would only improve her mood.
Fucking Isabella…yeah, fuck her. Actually, she really missed fucking her.
The floor was moving on its own.
Stupid Hanged Man bar thingy. Maker, she was drunk.
The man wielding the short sword was holding his body at a funny angle. Hawke cocked her head to match the angle.
He blinked.
She blinked.
The duster wasn't moving, he seemed frozen in place by fear.
There was a blade at his throat closer than Hawke's. It must have arrived there first, she concluded. She waiting for the man's body to spin back around in front of her, in focus, so she could cleave his head off. She didn't really care either way, but today was a good day to kill anyone who fucked with her.
The man tried to give a shot to the ribs to the woman holding the dagger behind him. She had great breasts, Hawke thought, and then she felt the familiar spatter of warm blood cross her face as the blade cut the man's throat. Really great breasts. She appeared to have giant floating breasts, as far as Hawke was concerned.
"You'd think a dagger at the throat would be warning enough not to do something stupid."
That voice sounded familiar. Hawke loved that her stomach felt like it had let loose a thousand butterflies, that felt great…though the bar floor was starting to buck under her feet.
Hawke attempted to sheathe her sword, missed, dropped it and managed to only half fall on the floor. She was held up off the ground by a shaky hand. She pushed up and warbled to her feet.
Three years ago, Isabela had barely checked to see if Hawke was still breathing before she took off. The Arishok was probably still bleeding out when Isabela took ship.
She hadn't even said, goodbye. All those years of sex, fun, and company…poof…gone.
"Hello." the magical talking breasts said to her.
Bitch.
"Hello." She said back to them. Had she ever been this drunk?
"Hawke, are you okay?" Hawke managed to not smack her head as she fell to the ground. It felt so safe, the ground. She liked it. Nice and firm…like those talking breasts.
Loved those things. She'd seen them before somewhere. Sure she had. Wait. She had. In her bed…those were Isabela's talking breasts. Her brain was getting too fogged to process anymore.
A mage behind Isabela pointed his staff at the ceiling and pulling energy started to cast a spell at Hawke. A familiar thoop of an arrow shot past Hawke and buried itself in the man's skull. He was dead before he hit the ground.
"Thoop." Is all Hawke managed to say before the floor started spinning. Bianca sure told that guy what was up.
Something about Isabela.
Yeah, she'd been in love with her a few years ago, and it was probably something to do with why she was drunk right now…
The Rivaini turned to make sure there were no more attackers. What the hell had she walked back into? Hawke, by all rights should be dead if this was an example of everyday in Kirkwall nowadays.
It had never occurred to her in the three years she had been gone that Hawke might not be alive. Nor had she ever seen Hawke this drunk. Hell, she's barely seen sailors this drunk.
"It's my anniversary of should of been dead day." Hawke held up her fist in the air. "My girlfriend left me, this I know…"She started in a sing-song drunken fashion.
"Maker. Hawke. Hawke." The honey voice of the pirate penetrated Hawke's drunken slurring. Her ice blue eyes tried to focus on the breasts woman. No luck.
"Whats-it-going-on?" She slurred. Her arm felt nice as she gripped it. Was it for balance? Naw, she was laying down. Felt nice and warm to grip it. Comforting.
"She didn't take the news of your leaving very well." Varric said casually crossing to the pirate as if they'd spoken yesterday instead of three years hence. He closed up Bianca and slipped his crossbow onto his back. "Oh, she's not like this all the time. Normally, she's much more sober and killing people by the dozen."
"Was she really that upset?" In a way Isabela hoped it was true. She didn't want Hawke to have suffered, but she might stand a chance of winning her back if she cared. If she didn't care, they could always go back to great sex. If Hawke would have her.
"Hey boobs." Hawke slurred.
"Oh, yes." Varric crossed over to Hawke. "Help me get her up, Rivaini."
"We aren't dragging her across Kirkwall are we?" Isabela groaned at Hawke's dead weight.
Hawke swung up and tried to help them by standing, but it just made things worse.
"No, just put her in your old room up here." Varric nodded at the staircase leading upstairs.
They both staggered under Hawke's dead weight. They practically drug up the stairs and into Isabela's old room. Hadn't changed much. Hadn't changed at all, actually. At least as far as she could tell.
Varric and Isabela unceremoniously dumped Hawke on the large bed in the far corner of the upstairs room.
Isabela started untying Hawke's armor.
"Just leave it." Varric offered.
"It's not like I haven't taken this off a thousand times before." Isabela smiled at some of the memories. She could get into that armor pretty fast on any given day. She liked the memory of Hawke hurriedly shirking off armor at lightening speed, desperate to touch and be touched.
Sometimes Isabela would only take the armor off parts she needed access to, especially for a tryst in an alleyway or right outside the Hanged Man. She smiled at the thought. Semi-pubic screwing of Hawke was always a good memory.
Hawke had really talented hands, and a really talented mouth.
Hawke had pinned her up against the outside wall of the Hanged Man once in full armor, she ripped her panties off with her teeth, and rested Isabela on her strong shoulders. Hawke was not bulky in anyway, but she was incredibly strong her small form housed muscles as strong as steel cable. When Isabela had first felt Hawke's tongue lap across her clit knew she Hawke had serious talent between the sheets.
And Varric was saying something to her…
"I don't think that's necessary Isabela. She's not going to notice either way. It's not worth the trouble, besides I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings." Varric said smiling. "I will enjoy my front row seat here at the tavern. Actually, you are right. Maybe you should take her armor on and put it on yourself. She's going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."
"She'll still be drunk for most of tomorrow if I'm any judge." Isabela said pulling off a greave.
"I think you might be right. Should I check on you if I don't here anything?"
"If you don't hear anything? Yes. By tomorrow we should be fighting or fucking…or both."
"Fair point." Varric said. "I'll only come in if it's quiet tomorrow night."
Varric closed the door behind him on the way out. He grinned to himself. With Isabela back in town, Kirkwall just got a great deal more interesting…so did the Champion.
Isabela pulled off her other greave and started working on her chest plate. She always liked taking off Hawke's armor. It was like opening a present. Isabela took her time, but in a few minutes Hawke was down to her small clothes.
Hawke's breathing had become deep and regular. Isabela had never spend the night at Hawke's estate. It seemed too clingy at the time, but Isabela had always loved it when Hawke had been satisfied, at least a few times, and it was time to go. She always left right before dawn as the sky started to lighten. Hawke was spent by then and wouldn't wake until daybreak.
It was time to go now, but Isabela decided she could lie down and rest beside her old lover for just a minute.
She's tried every type of lover she could come across in the last three years, but none of them had measured up to Hawke. Yes, Hawke was technically proficient in bed, and that gave her an inherit advantage over most, but the sex was different with Hawke.
As many times as she had cried out Hawke's name when they were in bed together, it didn't add up to how many times she had cried out her name in the last three years no matter who she was fucking.
Isabela hated to admit it, but she hadn't found better sex. She hadn't even found comparable sex. Hawke had spoiled her for women and men. It was annoying. She'd tried to get Hawke out of her mind the last three years, but every time she had sex with or without someone else in the room Hawke haunted her.
Isabela loved her.
No, she loved being with her.
She couldn't love her. It was just they were so sexually compatible; it was worth the risk for that good a fuck. The risk of coming back here and facing Hawke.
Isabela dozed off to pleasant thoughts of Hawke touching her, tasting her…
"Isabela." The word sounded harsh coming out of Hawke's mouth. Isabela woke up with her own dagger to her throat.
Isabela was instantly wide-awake and alert with her heart pounding in her ears. "Hello Hawke. Miss me?" was all she could think of to say.
Hawke was in a bra and a very translucent lacy pair of panties that were quite distracting. Isabela had given her those years ago. Hawke only wore them for special occasions…like trying to kill her, apparently.
Hawke was crouched low on the bed holding the blade to Isabela's neck. "What the hell is going on?"
Isabela decided she was going to defuse the situation or die trying. It was about a 50/50 shot at this point. If Hawke was serious with the dagger she was dead anyway. Isabela pushed Hawke's hand and arm back and away from her throat. Hawke let her.
The dagger dropped to the ground with a clank and a dull ringing sound.
"Damn you, Isabela." Hawke pulled her hand back to cuff her, but even all the frustration of the last three years bottled up in a moment couldn't give her enough cause to slap the woman much less hit her.
Hawke had spent the last three years waking up in the middle of the night and fumbling in the dark for another round of Isabela as she had done for years before, but there was never an Isabela there. The sting of it hurt fresh every night. When Hawke woke up in the middle of the night and found Isabela in bed next to her…a strange bed at that, it was just too much. She was sure it was a trick. Isabela was gone. It must have been blood magic…a demon or something.
Demons don't disarm; they kill. Her brain feeding her logic only made matters more confusing.
Hawke touched Isabe'sla face quizzically. Did you get hallucinations with hangovers? Hangovers? Who was she kidding? She was still drunk.
When Hawke brushed her fingers over Isabela face, as much as Isabela had missed the Hawke's touch, she wanted to feel her hands in her own again. They often touched hands when making love. Maker. When fucking. What was wrong with her?
Demons also were unlikely to have Isabela's smell or the warm hand of her confident touch. Dammit, she had to kiss the illusion.
Hawke lunged at Isabela like a starving beast desperate for a meal. Hawke's mouth found Isabela's. It was the same kiss she remembered. It was confident but not forceful. Maker, if it was a dream let it be a wet one.
It was like kissing Isabela, but different. Isabela was kissing her back as though she cared, instead of just wanting a fuck.
Hawke let her weight drop on Isabela as she trailed her hand down to her soft warm breast Isabela squirmed beneath her. If it was real…Hawke had to know.
Little or no foreplay was needed after this long. Hawke slid down Isabela's body and tugged at her underwear with her teeth. Isabela threatened to come undone at the very idea of Hawke tasting her, again.
Isabela grabbed Hawke by her scruffy dark hair as she ripped off her underwear. She had forgotten how much underwear she went through with Hawke.
Hawke tasted Isabela for the first time in three years. Isabela shrieked in pleasure and twisted Hawke's hair around her fingers as much as the short hair would let her. Maker, but she felt amazing.
Isabela almost came at Hawke's first taste of her. "Hawke." It was the first time in years the name escaped her lips and it was attached to the person she was with, the woman she was with. Isabela had always enjoyed the company of women, but was surprised in the time they were together she never craved for something else unless Hawke was going to be joining.
It was definitely her. Hawke didn't know what to think, so she didn't.
She was being gentle with Isabela, and generally Isabela was into anything but…but this felt different. It felt so good. She didn't want to come because she didn't want it to stop. They had just started, but who knew if there would be another round when Hawke wrapped her mind around everything.
Hawke had always loved the way Isabela tasted. She wanted to lap up every bit she could. She felt Isabela getting wetter and slicker. She mover her tongue from teasing her clit to licking just inside her, lapping up everything she could. When Isabela felt Hawke shift she begged for more of everything. Her hips moved forward, and she had to look down and watch. See that it was really Hawke. It was really her tongue.
Hawke sensed what she was doing. She looked up at her. Ice blue eyes staring into honey brown ones. For an unreal fantasy come true that moment seemed so real. She just couldn't believe she was staring down at her. Hawke looked away. Whether it was too much emotion or she wanted to concentrate on what she was doing Isabela didn't care.
Hawke's eyes were filled with passion, emotion, but not hate or rage. Isabela felt her heart skip a beat. She wasn't accustomed to trying to process emotion, especially during sex.
She had hoped to have a tryst with Hawke, even if Hawke took out every hate filled thought on her. Isabela felt she deserved it after all she had done. Hawke had learned over the years not to betray any emotions during sex. Isabela did not like clingy, but it had been years, and Isabela's eyes were misty too.