Fic: Cause and Effect (Dragon Age, Isabella/Merrill)
Title: Cause and Effect
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Isabella/Merrill
Rating: R for sex
Word count: 905
Summary: Every nickname has its origins, some more obvious than others.
Notes: Thanks to my beta kawaiigami for looking over this <3. Also, apologies to my friends list for the fact I'm basically fic-spamming at the moment.
Isabella had liked sex for a good, long time. It was fun, there were enough rogue healers around for it to be relatively harmless, and it was cheap. Plus, people were generally more amenable to being fucked than being robbed.
It was a given that she had slept with Hawke and Fenris, and that despite Aveline's occasionally affectionate but usually sincere disapproval she had her eyes on the big girl's big knickers, but there were other bits on the side she appreciated a little more quietly. Everyone knew where their own nicknames came from, but not everyone knew where each other's originated.
Aveline's nickname was obvious, of course. Merrill's, on the other hand, only seemed obvious - but much like the innocent-looking creature herself, Merrill's nickname appeared to be one thing while beneath the surface it happened to be quite different.
It had taken Isabella significantly less time than the gentlemen of the group to realise that while Merrill's ditzy antics were not deceptive - she genuinely was that awkward and clumsy - they did not make her a child. Precious and precocious, yes, but not a child. She did, however, have an awful tendency to think that all humans took themselves as seriously as the Dalish, and as such Isabella had become something of a chaperone for Merrill to make certain that she did not get in trouble through an earnest response to sarcasm or honest reply to jesting.
As it so happened, Merrill seemed to have taken quite happily to her place under Isabella's wing. Isabella had theorised at first that it was on account of the independence her particular wing allowed; when on land she preferred giving advice to giving orders, allowing people to make their own decisions but happy to throw her opinion their way, and Merrill was a free spirit. It was hard not to enjoy the girl's company, her quirky way of not quite understanding most human norms and second guessing the few that she did. Plus, in her own defence, the few elves Isabella had known to date were slaves, whores, drunks or assassins. Oh, and Fenris of course, who had been all four at one time or another as far as she could tell. Her idea of standard elven behaviour was a little skewed as a result, and she had taken Merrill's stunted attempts to flirt with her as mimicry - some elves did it to fit in with humans, and others to mock them.
The thought that any of it might have been meant in earnest did not cross her mind until the evidence was upon her, Merrill already holding her hand from the short walk from the docks to the alienage, surprising her with a kiss as they arrived at Merrill's door.
"What was that for, sweetie?"
"I, um," Merrill began, looking down and to her side, embarrassed. "It's just, this is going to sound weird, but, you're very pretty, and I like you, and I'm making a mess of this, aren't I?"
Isabella used her free hand to tilt Merrill's head back up. "Oh, I think you did very well. You just caught me off guard. Aren't many people around who can say that."
Merrill looked stunned, a sweet, toothy grin brightening her delicate features, and Isabella smirked in reply.
"Now you kiss me again," Isabella prompted, staggering only a moment when she found herself supporting the elf's weight, arms and legs wrapped around her neck and waist.
They hadn't even gone inside, yet. She had known then she was on course for an interesting night.
Isabella had swiftly learned indoors that Merrill's naivety had a lot more to do with the cultural barrier between them than complete innocence, Merrill's hands quick to guide Isabella's to her breasts, and quick to return the favour. Her teeth were sharp and vicious things, biting marks into Isabella's neck and stomach and thighs, her tongue offering quick little licks to each wound, and by the maker, she was noisy. Isabella was used to dramatic final grunts, soft sighs, or gasping fits and the occasional dirty talker. Merrill, on the other hand, virtually narrated what she was doing, vocal with her approval of anything Isabella did right, and constantly asking for permission every time she tried something new.
Much as Isabella had been happily distracted while she came, when she moved down between Merrill's legs and set to work she became all too aware of the change in Merrill's response to touch. The "Yes" and "Again" and "Please" had been swapped for a low whine, and as Isabella sucked on that sweet nub at the top of the girl's cunt and brought her to a shuddering orgasm, Merrill let out a sound that could only be described as a mewl.
Isabella cuddled her a moment after before getting up and dressing, taking her time to ensure it was seen as maintaining friendship, not hiding from what had happened or rejecting Merrill now that this was done. She needn't have been concerned, found Merrill watching her with a little smile that looked more like thanks than anything more dangerous.
It was no sacrifice to linger a while instead of heading out immediately, to brush Merrill's damp hair back from her face and press a quick kiss to her forehead.
"Sweet dreams, kitten."
The nickname stuck, even if Merrill's innocent act didn't.
Isabella doubted even Varric knew why.
The End
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Isabella/Merrill
Rating: R for sex
Word count: 905
Summary: Every nickname has its origins, some more obvious than others.
Notes: Thanks to my beta kawaiigami for looking over this <3. Also, apologies to my friends list for the fact I'm basically fic-spamming at the moment.
Isabella had liked sex for a good, long time. It was fun, there were enough rogue healers around for it to be relatively harmless, and it was cheap. Plus, people were generally more amenable to being fucked than being robbed.
It was a given that she had slept with Hawke and Fenris, and that despite Aveline's occasionally affectionate but usually sincere disapproval she had her eyes on the big girl's big knickers, but there were other bits on the side she appreciated a little more quietly. Everyone knew where their own nicknames came from, but not everyone knew where each other's originated.
Aveline's nickname was obvious, of course. Merrill's, on the other hand, only seemed obvious - but much like the innocent-looking creature herself, Merrill's nickname appeared to be one thing while beneath the surface it happened to be quite different.
It had taken Isabella significantly less time than the gentlemen of the group to realise that while Merrill's ditzy antics were not deceptive - she genuinely was that awkward and clumsy - they did not make her a child. Precious and precocious, yes, but not a child. She did, however, have an awful tendency to think that all humans took themselves as seriously as the Dalish, and as such Isabella had become something of a chaperone for Merrill to make certain that she did not get in trouble through an earnest response to sarcasm or honest reply to jesting.
As it so happened, Merrill seemed to have taken quite happily to her place under Isabella's wing. Isabella had theorised at first that it was on account of the independence her particular wing allowed; when on land she preferred giving advice to giving orders, allowing people to make their own decisions but happy to throw her opinion their way, and Merrill was a free spirit. It was hard not to enjoy the girl's company, her quirky way of not quite understanding most human norms and second guessing the few that she did. Plus, in her own defence, the few elves Isabella had known to date were slaves, whores, drunks or assassins. Oh, and Fenris of course, who had been all four at one time or another as far as she could tell. Her idea of standard elven behaviour was a little skewed as a result, and she had taken Merrill's stunted attempts to flirt with her as mimicry - some elves did it to fit in with humans, and others to mock them.
The thought that any of it might have been meant in earnest did not cross her mind until the evidence was upon her, Merrill already holding her hand from the short walk from the docks to the alienage, surprising her with a kiss as they arrived at Merrill's door.
"What was that for, sweetie?"
"I, um," Merrill began, looking down and to her side, embarrassed. "It's just, this is going to sound weird, but, you're very pretty, and I like you, and I'm making a mess of this, aren't I?"
Isabella used her free hand to tilt Merrill's head back up. "Oh, I think you did very well. You just caught me off guard. Aren't many people around who can say that."
Merrill looked stunned, a sweet, toothy grin brightening her delicate features, and Isabella smirked in reply.
"Now you kiss me again," Isabella prompted, staggering only a moment when she found herself supporting the elf's weight, arms and legs wrapped around her neck and waist.
They hadn't even gone inside, yet. She had known then she was on course for an interesting night.
Isabella had swiftly learned indoors that Merrill's naivety had a lot more to do with the cultural barrier between them than complete innocence, Merrill's hands quick to guide Isabella's to her breasts, and quick to return the favour. Her teeth were sharp and vicious things, biting marks into Isabella's neck and stomach and thighs, her tongue offering quick little licks to each wound, and by the maker, she was noisy. Isabella was used to dramatic final grunts, soft sighs, or gasping fits and the occasional dirty talker. Merrill, on the other hand, virtually narrated what she was doing, vocal with her approval of anything Isabella did right, and constantly asking for permission every time she tried something new.
Much as Isabella had been happily distracted while she came, when she moved down between Merrill's legs and set to work she became all too aware of the change in Merrill's response to touch. The "Yes" and "Again" and "Please" had been swapped for a low whine, and as Isabella sucked on that sweet nub at the top of the girl's cunt and brought her to a shuddering orgasm, Merrill let out a sound that could only be described as a mewl.
Isabella cuddled her a moment after before getting up and dressing, taking her time to ensure it was seen as maintaining friendship, not hiding from what had happened or rejecting Merrill now that this was done. She needn't have been concerned, found Merrill watching her with a little smile that looked more like thanks than anything more dangerous.
It was no sacrifice to linger a while instead of heading out immediately, to brush Merrill's damp hair back from her face and press a quick kiss to her forehead.
"Sweet dreams, kitten."
The nickname stuck, even if Merrill's innocent act didn't.
Isabella doubted even Varric knew why.
The End