Title: Layers
Rating: R
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Josephine/Leliana
Summary: Josephine strips away some of Leliana’s layers, discovering scars and her soul.
Notes: Kink Meme Prompt.
The Winter Palace brought many things to light.
For Josephine it was the knowledge – or at least the memory – of the scares Leliana so carefully hid.
The one on her jaw is always in shadow, hidden unless you’re looking for it. Unless you know it’s there. Josephine knows her well enough to know it’s there and suspect with some certainty that there are more. She knows some of the harrowing tales to come from the Orlesian dungeons, knows some of the things Leliana went through at their hands.
Without her cowl, in the Inquisitions red jacket, this is confirmed to the ambassador. There is a line that leads down into the high collar of the thick coat and Josephine spends most of the evening reigning in her sister and her obsession with Leliana instead of playing the game.
She considers it time well spent.
On the return to Skyhold, she intends to seek her friend out, draw her out but Leliana has noticed her staring.
At least her increased amount of staring.
Josephine has always been intrigued by Leliana. Attracted to her. While her peers feared her, often avoided her, Josephine was drawn to her, sought her out, became her friend. Always in hope of becoming more but the spy was never receptive to any of her early attention or flirtations and she knows when to step back. They became good friends instead but Josephine still harbours the same feelings. The same attractions.
The same love.
She isn’t surprised to find Leliana in her chambers; they often share meals together, evening drinks, confidences. Josephine goes about her evening routine first, offering Leliana tea or wine but when she received no reply from her friend she moves to sit next to her on the chaise lounge, looking for signs on distress on the redheads face.
Leliana smiles and lowers her cowl.
“I know you’ve been looking Josie,” she says, “but there really is nothing to see.”
Josephine doesn’t know how to answer, and instead reaches out and runs her thumb along the scar on Leliana’s jaw. The pad is rough from using a quill and it catches on Leliana’s skin as she traces down her neck and into the collar.
The Spymaster reaches out, wraps a pale hand around Josephine’s writs but doesn’t pull her away. She just holds her, warm and strong, as the ambassador reaches in and feels the knot of scar tissues on the other woman’s clavicle.
“Oh Leliana,” she says, and then without thinking leans forward to kiss the same spot.
Leliana gasps, grips Josephine’s wrist a little tighter but doesn’t stop her. The ambassador pulls her collar open so she can trace kisses back up the scar on Leliana’s neck, across her jaw, up to her lips.
The redhead reacts then; lets got of the ambassador’s wrist in favour of putting her hands her hips as she kisses back. Josephine is already fiddling with the clasps on her outer robe when Leliana stops her and pulls away.
Her eyes are bright, bright blue than Josephine can ever remember seeing them, her cheeks flushed but she’s trembling ever, ever so slightly and she pulls back too everything suddenly is clear.
“Oh my love,” she whispers.
“I must go,” Leliana replies but Josephine’s hands are on hers, pulling back down, keeping her in place.
Just for a moment longer. Just for one minute more, she thinks.
“Please Leliana, let me, please.”
Leliana has always known how Josephine feels about her. She is a spy after all and her friend has always been easy for her to read. He has sought her counsel and comfort over the years but has never given into her own feelings for the Antivan noble.
She was sad when Josephine settled into their friendship and gave up wanting more, but she hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted.
Still wasn’t able to.
She was still the broken young woman who had come out of the Orlesian dungeons. More so with the loss of Justinia.
But when Josephine’s lips pressed against her skin, her scars, she felt that old, so old, flutter again. Like her heart might still work if only she could put back together.
If only Josephine would put her back together.
“Come with me,” the other woman says standing, still holding onto Leliana’s hands.
Oh, she wants to. She wants to run too but she stands and lets Josephine lead her into her bedroom. Josephine is as determined as ever not and Leliana delights in the serious looks on her soft face as she settles the spy at the end of her bed, finally letting go of her hands.
The ambassador moves around the room then, lighting candles before shedding layers of gold jewellery and cloth. Leliana watches enraptured for the other woman is beautiful, moving with grace and certainly, body revealed to her hungry eyes.
Leliana isn’t surprised by any of this, she has always thought Josephine beautiful. She is surprised by the long scar that runs down her left leg. By the star that sits beneath her ribs so obviously caused by an arrow. Josephine who is always so perfectly put together has a dagger scar peeking out from beneath her breast band.
When all is revealed, skin and scars, everything secret and soft, Leliana can neither speak nor swallow and the other woman smiles. She’s urged to stand again and manages a protest when the ambassador goes to undress her.
“Just the outer layers mi carazon,” she says, and Leliana nods, feeling a little more confident. A little stronger again.
She’s still as Josephine peels away her layers, pulling open her coat and freeing her of it. The ambassador is as slow and methodical as she was with her own clothes, setting each piece carefully aside until Leliana is in legging and a cotton shift.
Her arms are exposed, and the scars there, her neck too but she has allowed it, welcomes it. She is ready for more, more stripping of her defences when Josephine says enough and lays them together on the soft bed.
And then it’s too much, too soft. The spy sleeps on a cot in the Rookery most nights but Josephine’s bed is soft and warm.
Josephine is soft and warm. All lush curves and golden skin that she’s sure she doesn’t deserve.
She wants to touch, wants to dive into her body and soul but she knows that isn’t the point if this. Isn’t the time. She cannot be part of Josephine if Josephine cannot be part of her.
So she waits. Waits for Josephine to put her back together again.
Josephine has never been so sure of anything in her life. There is a sparkling clarity to stripping Leliana, to laying down with her.
To loving her.
Because that is what this is. Love. Wholehearted and honest when they are a little nervous and broken.
Josephine is no saint.
She holds Leliana for a while, quietly in the candlelight, letting her adjust, felling her relax. She’s tempted to sing, lullabies perhaps, but she’s not ready for sleep yet.
Not ready for Leliana to sleep away yet.
She kisses her again, slow and soft. Leliana’s lips yield under her own, a slow exploration and Josephine settles her hands on the redhead’s hip. Just resting on the cotton her shift. After a while, it is Leliana who lifts the shift and lays Josephine’s hand o her are scarred side. Slowly the ambassador she stretches her fingers out touches as much skin as she can without moving her hand feels the rise of scar tissues, the valleys if the unbroken skin in between.
Marvels and wonders at the extent of it under her palm.
“Josie,” Leliana whines and she smiles in reply, returning to their previous kissing.
She tingles all over, is blessed and will bless Leliana in return. Their kisses become more heated, Leliana pushes for more and oh Josephine wants to take it. Take her.
Instead, she pulls back for a moment to look at the woman she has loved for so long. Leliana is still bright eyes and a smile she doesn’t think she’s seen before. she’s bowled over by it, by her and starts to move her hand, centimetre by centimetre down her hips, her thigh, up again. Watching Leliana react, tremble, smile, shudder as she skims her fingers up the inside of her thighs as she settles on her back, legs relaxed.
Soul relaxed.
“Josie,” she whispers and the ambassador nods.
“I have you mi novio,” she says, pressing a finger then two between her legs. “I have you.”
Leliana shudders again and Josephine can feel her warm through her small clothes and leggings.
“Take them off mon amour, s’il vous plait.”
“Non,” Josephine says, shaking her head. “Not yet. Not yet.”
She presses down harder, finding Leliana’s clit and dragging a cry from her.
She will put her back together bit by bit. She will reveal Leliana’s soul before her scars. She cannot heal her body, only her heart. And first, her trust must be won.
Three fingers now, rubbing slowly, finding a rhythm that pleases Leliana but doesn’t push.
Not yet.
The spy whimpers, pleads and Josephine kids the words away until he can see tears forming, fingers moving slow and soft.
Then, then she zeros in, one finger in tight circles under Leliana is crying.
Crying out, crying tears, crying for Josephine.
She grabs her wrists again, her hands softer than Josephine had expected now she touches the ambassador’s bare arms. She presses her hips into the touch, hard, back arched high for one shining moment before collapsing again. Josephine pulls back a touch, still circling her clit but gentle now, watching her in wonder.
Leliana is beautiful like this, broken from orgasm instead of life.
When she reaches out to still Josephine’s hand, still crying she moves quickly; gathering Leliana up in her arms, holding her close until she is calm again.
Until she’s asleep.
Josephine smiles to herself, shifting only to pull the cover over their bodies.
She falls asleep too. She’s unsure whether Leliana will still he in her arms in the morning but she is certain she will return to her.
pop up books 