Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Bethany]

"Really?" Bethany say, twisting so she can look Marian in the face. "You promise? I- I swear I won't be b-burden. Just don't leave me too."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian nods. "If you still want to go, I'll have you. I don't leave people behind, not ever. I-- I might be half elven, but I'm not like that. I'll stay."

[Bethany]

"Half-" Bethany's eyes widen and she scowls. "Marian Belltower- Bellflower Hawke. I have never cared about that. I love you and I always will. Pointy ears never meant 'elf' to me. It's always meant love and family and comfort." She giggles a little. "And sometimes scolding and exasperated eyerolls. But always love."

[Marian Hawke]

"Beth," she whispers, eyes filling with tears. "You're too good. Too good. After all Joey did, and you don't think of Merikos being bad..."

[Bethany]

Bethany looks baffled for a moment, then smiles sweetly. "Of course I don't, silly. I could never think of you as bad. Duh." Her eyes are so pretty. So full of love and everything she is. Like I can see her soul, shining bright and unwavering. "I love you," she whispers.

 Without letting herself second guess the impulse, she leans in and presses her mouth against Marian's cute bow lips. Just once. Just once, I want to know what a kiss is like. Just once. I know it's wrong, but who else could I trust to have this moment? Who else will ever notice me enough to love me and won't fear or hate what I am? It's a clumsy effort, given her inexperience- and the wine she's had- but earnest and eager. A bit wet too, as she tries to mimic what she's only read about.

[Marian Hawke]

We can't have that. Marian pulls back just a little, enough to turn the kiss gentler, more tender. She closes her eyes, reaching up to entwine her fingers in Bethany's hair; she pulls back just a bit more, then goes back in, varying the pressure to keep her guessing. Girls are nice, she thinks distantly. Softer than Drake. Smells better, too. 

[Bethany]

Taking her cue from Marian, Bethany eases up as well. After a moment, she hesitantly moves her hands from the small of the back to the swell of Marian's bum. She makes a soft, questioning noise, not brave enough to touch without being invited. When Marian's tongue brushes against her lips, she shivers and opens them without hesitation.

[Marian Hawke]

Oooh, bum cupping is nice. See? Why can't Drake be more adventurous in the good ways. She moves her free hand to the small of Bethany's back, giving her a quick, possessive jerk forward. It's nice to be wanted, she reasons, exploring Bethany's mouth with her practiced tongue. 

[Bethany]

Encouraged by the interest, Bethany moans softly and moves her right hand down so her palm is firmly rubbing against her sister's butt. New feelings, ones she's never felt so strongly before, so clearly, churn in her gut, then spread throughout her body. Moaning again, she presses against Marian, wanting, needing, more contact.

[Marian Hawke]

Marian pushes her backward, covering her with her body, one hand beside her head as she stretches to keep their lips in contact. Her hand rubs against her stomach, seeking upward under her dress, until she's cupping Bethany's budding breast over her smallclothes.

[Bethany]

Bethany tenses, just a second, before arching into Marian's touch. "Yes," she whimpers into Marian's mouth, hand tightening, then releasing, tightening and releases as she kneads the cheek in her hand. Then a thigh presses between her legs and her brain skips a few seconds as the best feeling she's ever felt pulses through her. It doesn't last, instead just causing the tight, warm, churning, ache in her lower body to grow.

[Marian Hawke]

Marian doesn't wait for a second invitation: she pulls Bethany's breastband aside, letting her breast spill out into her hand. She runs her thumb over the younger girl's nipple, nibbling on her lower lip as she does, desperate to please, to do something right for once in her life. She knows what to do mostly from what's worked on her, but at the same time, she knows how this feels, knows how to work the nipple to best effect. Love me, some part of her begs. Want me. Need me.

[Bethany]

Want me, need me, keep me. Bethany's heart sings. "I- yes- feels- ahh!" she cries out as Hawke runs a fingernail over the hard nub. Desperate for Marian to keep going, to not pull away or leave her, wiggles her hand around until she slips it under Marian's trouser band- and her small clothes, by happy accident, allowing her to cup the warm flesh underneath. Oh. Oh, this feels so good. So warm and hard, yet her skin is soft and smooth. "L-love you," she gasps out when her sister shifts her lips to her jawline. 

[Marian Hawke]

"I love you," whispers Marian, kneading at Bethany's breast with her hand. 

It's over before too much longer; Marian nestles up to Bethany, her hand slowing with time. Neither sister has the tools or the knowledge to take the other to their climax, and they're both too tipsy to play for long. But it's enough. Each of them drifts off feeling safe, warm, loved, for the first time in a while. 

Which is where they are still when Varric gets home the next day. There's no fuss over them having gone missing; they sleep off the drink well into the next morning, and so it is Varric who is most surprised to discover his uninvited guests, still in an amorous tangle on his sofa. 

[Varric]

Well, that was annoying and generally unpleasant (so much nature), but very productive. I'll need to head back in four months (ugh) or so to double check on that (door is unlocked). Varric stills, but only for a bare split second before. Slipping inside the house without any change in expression, he focuses on sounds, tring to see if he can hear anyone moving around. Not catching anything from the front door, he quickly mixes up an invisibility infusion and heads deeper into the house.

And almost instantly spots a blouse he distinctly recalls Marian wearing lying on the floor like it was just tossed aside haphazardly. Son of a (Leandra) bitch. If she brought that little shit Lizard here last night, we're going to have words. Oh merciful Bastion, please tell me she didn't... do that on my bed. She wouldn't, right? Right? No, she'd use the guest room (pleasepleaseplease). Taking a slow, quiet breath, he continues inward. And then sees the dinner laid out on the table. Dinner for two. She did. She really did. I can't believe she would- I trusted her. Is that my wine? That's my Premier Cru. Both bottles of it. And my Westlake Reserve (at least she didn't go with swill or my best). Damnit Marian, I trusted you, trusted you'd not abuse my giving you a-

Varric takes a long, long sip of his emergency whisky (potent, almost tasteless and moderate bite) as he stares at a wall in his office. "So..." he says for the twelth. And for the twelth time, the wall doesn't provide any hints or advice. I... I have nothing. What do I even do with... that. He shudders at even just vaguely thinking about it again. "So..." Nope, still nothing. "Gods be damned. I... I have to do something," he mutters, rubbing his forehead. He drains the last of his glass and takes a deep breath. Sure, but what? Gods. He glances longingly at the bottle, then squares his jaw. Moving stiffly, he returns to the living room and kicks the sofa. Hard.

"Wake up. Now."