6
Isabela was well versed in how to read a person's sexual arousal response. Not the obvious signs, like them pawing at her tits, but the more subtle signs: deeper breathing, quickened pulse, pupil dilation, excessive touching of one's own hair, body placement with hips tilted slightly forward.
She had noticed that all of these things seemed to happen to Hawke, whenever she was engaged in a conversation with Isabela. The mage also seemed to blush a lot around Isabela, especially when she was pretending that she'd missed the meaning of one of the pirate's innuendos. Hawke was a subtle woman, but Isabela noticed things, like a sideways glance at her breasts, an accidental touch that lingered for too long, her eyes unconsciously drifting to Isabela's lips during a conversation. The pirate got the feeling that Hawke was attracted to her, but Isabela didn't want to pounce unless it was a sure thing.
Her relationship with Hawke had been difficult, to put it mildly. The young mage carried herself with a youthful innocence that bordered on naivety, yet she showed such vicious skill in battle, that Isabela often suspected that there was a dark side behind it all. Isabela and Hawke's financial futures had been interwoven ever since the night they'd met at The Hanged Man. If Hawke didn't get paid, Isabela didn't get paid, and when Hawke refused a reward based on some ridiculous principle, or she dragged Isabela out on some mission of mercy, the pirate got pissed off.
The conversations that didn't end in Isabela trying to make Hawke blush, often ended in arguments. Isabela couldn't remember a time when she'd been so attracted to someone that she disliked so thoroughly. But then, she didn't often get to know her conquests before she bedded them, and her association with Hawke had felt like nothing but nine months of angry foreplay.
Hawke was after her last few sovereigns, to buy her way into the Deep Roads expedition, and she was grasping at straws. She'd dragged Isabela out of The Hanged Man alone, and they were scouring the Wounded Coast for any valuables that had been washed ashore.
Isabela had thrown back a few whiskeys before Hawke had taken her out, so she was in the mood for flirting, not fighting. "Hawke, when are you going to stop fighting destiny and come to my bed?" Isabela asked in mock sincerity.
"And what makes you think I ever will?" Hawke asked, a small smirk dancing on her luscious lips. Hawke had only just started to respond to Isabela's flirting, although to date, it had been in words only.
Isabela let her eyes travel up and down Hawke's body. "Because, when I see something I like, I go after it. And I nearly always get what I want…"
Hawke giggled. "Nearly isn't always. Perhaps I will be the exception."
"A pretty girl like you spending every night in an empty bed is a tragedy. I'm just trying to do a community service, Hawke. I mean, how long has it been?" Isabela continued.
"Since what?"
Isabele sighed. "You like to play dumb when it suits you, but you and I both know that you are as sharp as a blade. Sex! How long has it been since you've had sex?"
"I don't know if I wish to discuss my love life with you, Isabela. I think you have more than enough fodder for your teasing."
"I didn't say anything about your love life, Hawke. I asked how long it's been since someone threw you on a bed and made a woman out of you. The two are not mutually exclusive."
Hawke blushed, her standard response for when she'd gotten out of her depth with Isabela's flirting. "It's been… a while."
"Care to define a while for me, Hawke?" Isabela pressed.
"Long enough that I'm sure you would have curled up into a ball and died by now. Is that definition enough for you?"
Isabela chuckled. She preferred these moments with Hawke, when the Ferelden was relaxed and open to banter. She was thinking up her next line, when she heard a distinctive click under her boot, and knew she'd messed up.
"Shit!" she screamed, as she tackled Hawke over the edge of the path and they rolled down the embankment, landing on the sand below.
Less than a second later, an explosion took place overhead, on the path that they had just been standing on. They hadn't been paying attention, and had stepped into the heavily trapped Tal Vashoth territory.
Hawke had landed on her back, and Isabela had landed on top of her. She savoured the moment of lying on top of the dark haired mage, feeling the curves of her body for the first time. Isabela had imagined this scenario many times, and she instantly felt her heart beat quicken in her chest. The women made eye contact; Isabela's amber eyes were full of lust, Hawke's blue eyes were wide and frightened. Isabela could feel the heat radiating from the mage beneath her, as her pulse beat visibly in her neck.
Isabela leaned in close to Hawke's ear, noticing the floral scent of the mage's hair. She gently nuzzled her neck, before whispering "Don't look so afraid, sweet thing. I have no intention of hurting you. Quite the opposite, in fact."
She felt the mage's back arch, ever so slightly, as she left her warm breath in her ear. She sat up and straddled Hawke, whose chest was rising and falling heavily.
"I'm not afraid" Hawke said, swallowing deeply.
Isabela slowly traced a line with her fingernail from the bottom of Hawke's jaw, to the start of her cleavage. "That's good. But I don't think you're ready yet. When we rut, and we will rut, it will be because you've begged me for it. I'm looking forward to that day."
She took in the look on Hawke's face, the blush, the widened eyes, and against every instinct that her hungering body was screaming at her, she climbed off. She stood and extended a hand to help Hawke up, who was looking more confused than ever.
"Maybe we should go back now?" Hawke half asked, half announced, scurrying along the path that led back towards Kirkwall.