Chapter warnings:
Still the barest traces of angst as well as mentions of jealousy, but also a healthy helping of loving!smut. Additionally, in no particular order: experienced!Josie, (somewhat)inexperienced!quizzy, biting/marking, extremely sensitive elfy-ears, and a tiny bit of body-worship.

In short: Definite and absolute nosebleed warning! Do not read in public!

In Passion

Going by the angle of the sun and the length of the shadows, Josephine judges the time to be somewhere around noon when her eyes flutter open. There is a decent chance of her estimate being off, of course, since most of the heavy curtains have been drawn to keep the Inquisitor's quarters both darker (by keeping the light out) and warmer (by keeping the heat in), though the single, wide stripe of sunlight spilling across the floor where one curtain has been pulled back does provide enough light to see by.

The bed, she realizes, is empty aside from her, and she lifts herself onto her elbows and turns her head towards the uncovered balcony door that's causing the spill of sunlight (and, she notes as the covers slip to the center of her back, also a brisk snap of cold air). While the sight of Ellana standing directly in front of the wide-open door – naked as the day she entered this world – does make her relieved that no one aside from perhaps a passing bird can see her, it also puts a smile on her face that she's helpless to resist.

There's something undeniably charismatic about the easy confidence with which Ellana carries herself, Josephine decides for anything but the first time as she traces the dips and bumps of subtle muscularity beneath feminine softness with her eyes; shifting onto her side for a better, less restricted view. Something about the simple, clear fact that Ellana is at home in her own skin; that there's an innate belief in the abilities of her body and what that body can accomplish that infects those around her, and irresistibly leads them into believing in her, as well.

And of course it doesn't hurt that she's unreasonably attractive, though Josephine allows that in that, she could be just a little biased. Since that bias is the reason she's even in her current position, however, she simply takes the chance to study Ellana in detail; from the smooth rounding of her shoulders to the shallow dip of her spine; from the distinct narrowing of her waist to the slow flare of her hips and the gentle curve of her rear. She isn't especially tall – stands, in fact, over an inch shy of Josephine's own height – but she is so delightfully proportionate, with every limb seeming to be just the right length, and muscle and bone and skin somehow just... fitting together. Perfectly.

It's a small wonder that the majority of Skyhold is halfway in love with her, Josephine considers, and then has to squelch a grin as she reminds herself to never, ever, ever tell Ellana that particular bit of information, because she has an exhaustingly large blind spot where her own appeal is concerned, and the poor thing's head would probably explode.

And her contented, lazy admiration is being sensed now, it seems, as the fair head turns and those blue eyes track to hers with a smile that crinkles the barely visible vallaslin around Ellana's left eye.

"Good morning," Josephine murmurs.

"Good afternoon," Ellana corrects with a half-grin; turning a little in place to better face her. "You just missed a visit from our friendly, Skyhold staff," she offers; one hand gesturing in the general direction of the fireplace and the buckets of water now set to warm in front of it.

That information is enough to raise Josephine's eyebrows. As well as those of the servants, she wagers, if theirs didn't simply leap off entirely. "And you let them in like that?"

Ellana clears her throat. "Didn't really think about that part until it was too late," she admits wryly. "But... I lived, they lived." A smirk, and a cant of the fair head that sends a ripple of tousled hair to spilling over her shoulder. "You slept."

"Wonderful." She dutifully ignores the soft snicker as she turns onto her back and settles one arm over her eyes, and resigns herself to the fact that Ellana's physique is probably going to be the chief topic of Skyhold gossip over the next few days. Not that there's anything truly novel about that, or that she can blame the gossipers for it, but there is a... tug, low in her chest, at the thought of someone else seeing Ellana in this way.

And it's childish, she berates herself, because it's obvious that to Ellana, the idea of exposed skin – even outright nudity – holds no erotic connotations whatsoever unless context calls for it, so there is no cause for her to feel jealous. Ellana wasn't raised to cover herself and only let the odd lover or healer see her fully bare, and finds nothing but genuine enjoyment in the warmth of sunlight on her skin when she spars in little other than her breeches and her breast bindings in the middle of the courtyard.

(Josephine remembers the distinct lack of tan lines in the firelight, and pushes the thought away before she can chase it.)

By Orlesian, Antivan or simply human standards, Ellana is... not entirely civilized (she's too strong-minded; too willing to question the same rules that others merely accept). In spite of that – or perhaps because of it – she is the least barbaric person Josephine has ever met, and it really isn't fair of her to be upset over something so trivial. It's unreasonable, it's petty, and, she reminds herself as her jaw clenches, it's childish.

"Something's bothering you."

It's also entirely too obvious, apparently, to a young elf who really is far more perceptive than she usually lets on.

"Mm, headache," she hums in response; moving her arm enough that she can watch the sunlight paint that lovely form, and study the delicate ripple of iron under silk as Ellana shifts. "Not enough fresh air last night, I fear."

It's clear that Ellana sees straight through her little white lie; mainly in the way her eyes narrow, and in the faint tension at the corners of her mouth. That, however, is followed by an ever-so-slight dip of her head, and a loosening of her shoulders as she folds her arms and leans back against the frame of the door with an exhale that isn't quite a sigh.

'Alright; I'll back off,' that look says. 'For now.'

Strange, she thinks, how these little things never really made it to the forefront of their interactions until now. Of course, stopping an age-old, darkspawn magister from ascending to his self-proclaimed godhood has taken precedence in all the time they've known each other, so perhaps it's not so strange after all. Now that there's a modicum of peace, though, there may be time for them to discuss... several things. Time, too, for Josephine to take a closer look at the letter that lies unopened in her quarters and has for some time; addressed to her in her mother's distinctive script and certainly sent late enough for both Yvette and the house of Otranto to have mentioned things that she herself hasn't quite known how to bring up.

A woman and an elf. Josephine swallows back a sigh and lets her arm drop to her chest; fingers curling around the edge of the covers that rest there. It's not that she regrets the romance between them – how could she? - but there's no denying that to outside eyes, Ellana is hardly a suitable match, no matter how powerful a figure she is. The subject of an heir, especially, is going to be interesting.

But there's little she can do about it right now, and it really is much more enjoyable to study the play of light and shadow across sun-burnished skin, anyway.

"A lovely view," she offers; voice soft in the peacefulness of the half-darkened chambers.

"Hm?" Ellana's face turns from mountains outside and back towards her. "Ah, yeah. Probably what I like best about this room, really. It feels like I can see all the way to th-" She must have noticed the small, amused smile pulling at Josephine's lips, because she stops there, and glances down at herself. "Oh." A brief huff of laughter, and little more redness in her cheeks. "You mean me. Right."

"Mmhm." It may be a little hedonistic, but the bed is remarkably soft and it really would be a crime for Josephine not to allow herself a good stretch. So she moves through one; slowly, with one hand tangling in her hair and the other reaching over her head as her back arches. If the motion just so happens to drag the covers down a little lower on her body, that is, of course, simply a happy accident. Extending muscles that have gone a little sore from too long a day and too short a night does feel good, so she sighs, too; soft and long, and flexes first one leg and then the other in lazy, half-kicks that effectively expose her torso down to the tops of her hips.

Definite interest in those blue eyes, now, as she relaxes back into the pillows. In fact, she can make out the faint motion of Ellana's fingers flexing against her own arms.

"A comment, Inquisitor, if I may?"

"What?" Three blinks in rapid succession, and a hasty lift of those eyes until they're meeting her own, followed by a faint, puzzled frown; probably at her use of the title. "Of course, Josephine. Freely; you know that."

She purses her lips to suppress the smile, and lets her head roll a little further to the side while her right hand splays over the skin just below her navel. "It really is quite foolish to stand there in the cold when you could let me warm you up."

A sharp exhale accompanies the slight, forward jerk in Ellana's shoulders; as if her reaction is so immediate and so powerful that it's all but a physical hit. She straightens, however, and there's an altogether more heady play of light and shadow as she closes the balcony door with a careful hand. "I suppose you're right."

Her voice is several notes lower in pitch than normal, Josephine determines with a little shiver, though certainly no less compelling as she stalks – and that is the word for it – over to the bed; crawling onto it in a captivating display of sinuous motion until she can see exactly how dark those blue eyes have grown, and smell the faint hint of frost still clinging to her skin. She does catch those fingers, though, when they reach for her...

And sighs. "Accustomed to the elements or not, I demand to know how your hands remain warm after standing in that icy breeze for so long."

That earns her a sharp, upwards jerk of both golden brows, followed by a decidedly wicked grin. "Must be the company I'm keeping," Ellana drawls, and while Josephine does want to roll her eyes at that response, she's thoroughly distracted by the trace of a rounded fingernail over the inside of her wrist. It's only the faintest of touches but still enough to send tingles up the length of her arm, and she considers that she could possibly be in... a little over her head.

What a lovely way to drown, though, she decides, and smiles when the fair head dips enough for their lips to brush. There's a hand settling on her waist; there and light and yet somehow also scorchingly hot against her bare skin, and when Ellana's hair falls around them in an almost-silvery curtain scented with the sweetness of vandal arias, Josephine's fingers sink into those soft strands and pull her closer.

She tastes, Josephine realizes, faintly of peaches.

"Where-" she murmurs as she nibbles at a full, lower lip. "- did you find fruit? And how much were you wearing when you went looking?"

A wash of warm breath against her face, and their kiss breaks only because Ellana's smile is too wide. "I'm not trying to undermine your work," she chuckles. "The staff brought a plate with them. Apparently everyone's nursing a hangover; no point in serving anything in the hall."

"Ah." That does help in beating down the slight clawing in her chest, and the rest... the rest is eased by the knowledge that while she might not be alone in her more intimate admiration, she is the only one to have this beautiful creature looking at her like this; with not only desire, but also affection and love. "I suppose that means we won't have to worry about interruptions, hm?" she muses, and brushes a handful of pale hair back.

"I g- oh." The soft, sudden sound comes when the backs of Josephine's fingers brush along the top edge of a pointed ear, and that reaction is certainly interesting enough for her to repeat the motion. So she does – slower this time – and Ellana's reaction is immediate. She shivers bodily; her eyes fluttering closed and her teeth catching on her own lip, and the hand that's resting on Josephine's side curls just enough for her to feel the press of nails. "I... guess not." A hard swallow, and Josephine traces the deepening flush on her face with her eyes, but doesn't still her hand. "Cre-" Short, sharp breath; hard enough for Ellana's nostrils to flare visibly. "-ators, that's... nh."

"Yes," Josephine murmurs, and only realizes how much her own breathing has picked up when she runs a careful fingernail over the lower edge of that ear and Ellana's arms tremble at the edges of her vision. "I can see that." Those blue eyes are firmly – almost helplessly – shut now, and the hot, panting breaths that warm her own skin stutter harshly when she uses both her thumb and her index finger to slowly trace the very point. And if the mere touch of her fingers causes this, then what, she wonders, would happen if she were to lift herself up enough to-

"Gods!" Ellana's entire body jolts forward at the first brush of her tongue, and her forehead drops to Josephine's shoulder while the hand she has on the mattress clenches into a fist with the sound of nails dragging over fabric. There's a spot of skin behind her ear where her racing heartbeat is just barely fluttering, and closing her lips around that spot for a curious suckle results in those shaking arms almost unlocking, as well as a deep, gasped: "Josephine..."

Maker, what that voice does to her.

"Are you always this sensitive?" she whispers, and tangles her fingers further in soft, pale hair as she gives the lobe a gentle, little nibble.

"Nnnno." The low whimper almost makes it sound more like a question than an answer, and when Josephine carefully tugs the long hair back and to the side, she can see the flush of arousal extending down between Ellana's shoulderblades. "Only... only when you do-" A sharp nip and a long, mewling breath against the crook of her neck. "-that."

"I suppose that's for the best," she breathes; taking care to let her every word wash over the now-shimmering skin while her nails trace swirling patterns on the back of Ellana's neck. "It would be horribly impractical for you to react like this if a bear started nibbling at your ears."

There's a shuddering, choked huff burning into the side of her throat, and the skin on the top of Ellana's back is trembling. "Making me laugh right now is extremely cruel," she groans.

That, Josephine considers, is probably true. It is terribly cute, though. Ellana reacts to her touch so helplessly, and she wagers that she could quite possibly push her all the way to orgasm simply by doing this. A thought for another time, however, because there's entirely too much smooth skin on display for her to focus only on this small part of it. That decided, she gives the lobe another soft kiss before lowering herself back into the pillows, and promptly feels her heart leap in her chest when Ellana lifts her head in turn and those eyes are suddenly burning into her own.

They're dark. So, so dark; like the waters of the Rialto Bay in the dead of night. Deep and heavily lidded and just a little hazy, and being pinned by that almost predatory gaze is enough for there to be a sudden pull low in her belly; hot and heavy and wanting as Josephine parts her lips to draw in a shallow breath, and those eyes drop to follow the motion.

All from no more than a look. Should that even be possible?

Slowly, Josephine traces the tips of two fingers from the curve of Ellana's jaw to the point of her chin; curling her fingers under it and exerting just enough pressure to have those eyes focusing back on her own. "Have you done this before, my darling?" she murmurs, and brushes the pad of her thumb over the skin just below a full mouth.

"Um..." It takes a few seconds and few flutters of dark-gold lashes for Ellana to catch her meaning, and her fingers are tracing the lower edge of Josephine's ribs. "Sort of," she replies. "I have, but not-" She frowns there, with her gaze shifting off to one side as she mutters in Elven in what's probably a rare attempt to find the appropriate word in Common. Josephine has a good idea of what she means, of course, but the sound of Ellana's native language spilling from her lips has always enchanted her, so she doesn't interrupt. "- completely?"

About what she expected, then, though it's certainly also a vague answer. "Well." Her fingers slip lower over the side of Ellana's throat, and come to rest at the spot where she can feel the powerful heartbeat thrumming against her skin. "Perhaps you'd show me, then, how far 'not completely' is?" The chuckle against her own mouth makes her smile, but she huffs anyway. "Really, I don't see what's so amusing," she scolds, though that's a little difficult to do while those soft lips are nipping at her own. "I'm merely acquiring information."

"Uh-huh." Clearly, Ellana is anything but convinced; evident in both the thoroughly entertained glow in her eyes and the faint tug at the corner of her mouth when she pulls back enough for it to be visible. "In that case, with hands..." The tug becomes a full (impish) smile when her palm slips over Josephine's hip and causes a small, impatient shift. "Here." Long fingers curl warmly around the inside of her thigh; thumb stroking lazy circles in a spot that's certainly close, but not quite close enough.

Josephine isn't entirely sure if that fact is more relieving or frustrating.

"But..." That voice captures her again, and there's a pooling of light and shadow; a dip and glide of skin against skin as Ellana presses against her. "Also here." The hand on her thigh pushes before a leg settles between her own and there is not enough air in the room.

"Mm- hm." Breathing is difficult – thinking is near impossible – but she manages somehow, and feels the silk of skin under her own hands while scorching lips trace the tendons in her throat. "With... or without clothes?" she gets out.

"With."

"And for-" The brief sting of teeth at her pulse point makes her inhale sharply, and when her fingers tighten in Ellana's hair, the hands that cradle her hips just pull her closer. "- how long?"

"Not long enough," washes over her skin in the wake of hot, moist breath, and when that solid thigh slides against her with an agonizing lack of pressure, Josephine pushes her head back into the pillows and bites her own lip hard because by the stars, she would personally destroy anyone who dared to- "You?" A pause there, in both body and mouth, as if Ellana realizes that her attentions may be just a little distracting.

"Without." There's no point in her being anything but honest, after all. "And – in your terms – long enough."

There's a sudden, abrupt stillness of the warm body in her arms; a slow, controlled exhale and the faintest of trembles in those strong shoulders. "Male or female?" Ellana then questions, in the tone of voice that she normally reserves for particularly uncomfortable discussions in the War Room.

"Yes," Josephine replies simply, and combs her fingers through the soft hair.

Ellana's breathing stops for a bare instant, and there's the slight flex of fingers; of nails pressing into her skin. Then, a... surge; a sharp tightening of the hold on her, a sound that's somehow both a whine and a growl, and Josephine is snapping for air when that mouth claims hers in a deep, hard kiss that's lips and tongue and teeth as she's pressed into the mattress. She's mewling; arching into that warm frame, and Ellana just pushes her down harder with firm, possessive hands and the hot rush of uneven breathing.

There's a forehead resting against her own now, and Josephine is trying to catch her breath as she stares up into twin irises of perfect blue. It is, some corner of her still-whirling mind whispers, not unlike staring into the heart of a glacier, because that gaze is cold as ice and yet also... soft, somehow; as if underlaid by gently lapping waters. It's an angry look, but not, she decides as she shifts her hands enough to let her thumbs trace the skin below those eyes as they close slowly, and wonders what the cause of that... frustration? Yes, frustration... is.

"Ellana?"

"I really-" A hard breath, and a thoroughly dour glare when the blue eyes open. "- really don't like that thought."

Ah. Josephine manages not to smile, and instead kisses her again; softly this time. "I don't enjoy thinking about you with someone else, either," she admits, and watches her words make the swirling discontent in those eyes lessen to tender understanding. "I'm afraid that I have a distinct jealous streak, my love, and that you inspire it in increasingly unreasonable ways." It's halfway a warning, if she's perfectly honest, and yet the only reaction she gets is a smile; not one she can see – they're too close for that – but one that she can feel in the movement of skin under her palms. "The Antivan blood, I fear."

"So what's my excuse?" is the dry answer, with Ellana's body relaxing imperceptibly as she sighs. "Because I don't have a single drop of Antivan blood in me, and the thought of someone else putting their hands on you is still enough to make me want to shred the nearest object into pretty, little ribbons." There are fingers waggling in front of her face, as if to disperse the ribbons in question, and a distinct narrowing of those eyes. "Preferably with my sword."

"Then do please stay away from the draperies," Josephine quips, and feels her heart swell with affection when that causes one of Ellana's rare, full laughs; the one that makes her head fall back and her eyes close, and shows every one of those perfect teeth.

"You-" A hand is palming her cheek now, and her arms slip around lean shoulders in turn as their noses brush; their bodies close enough that they may as well be sharing a single skin when Ellana sighs again, though the sound is somehow different, this time. "No words," she murmurs, and there's the brief, almost chaste press of a warm mouth against her own. "No words."

Still, Josephine understands perfectly; knowing well by now that the less Ellana speaks, the more she feels. "Not so unreasonable, then?"

"Mm, maybe." There's the brush of parted lips against her cheek, and the trace of fingertips over her side which is... quite distracting. "But if we're both unreasonable..."

True. She isn't about to let her jealousy have any kind of free reign, of course, but knowing that the sentiment is shared certainly makes it seem less irrational. Unlike, she considers, the response of her body when Ellana's touch skims – barely – along the back of her thigh. That, frankly, is so strong that it flies straight past 'irrational' and settles firmly in the region of 'really shouldn't even be possible'.

"How do you always smell like lilies?" The words flow over her skin on the tail end of a long, slow breath; accompanied by that touch now slowly crawling up the front of her thigh, and while Josephine is perfectly capable of hearing what's being said, her comprehension is lagging significantly when Ellana both presses and pulls closer all at once. "You did in the hall last night and on the balcony this morning..." Another deep, lazy inhalation, with the tip of her nose tracing the side of Josephine's jugular and Josephine's head only falling back further. "And you do now."

"Sssssoap?" she hisses weakly; voice breaking and back warping when those strong teeth close carefully around a patch of skin. "Wasn't I-" The flick of a hot tongue makes her have to suck in sharp breath, and her fingers press into the lean shoulders. "- supposed to warm you up?"

A low laugh warms the skin over her sternum, and she can actually feel the crooked grin. "I'm not stopping you."

Oh yes she is, the brat. And she knows it, too, going by the twinkle in those eyes when Josephine lifts her head enough to see it. That, she decides with a narrowing of her own eyes, is a definite challenge, and thankfully enough incentive for her body to come back under her own command; enough for her to catch that lovely face between her own hands and pull Ellana up until their mouths are meeting, and for the taste of peaches to invade her senses again, though in a much headier way, now.

A shift, then; a light push of her hand against the front of a bare shoulder, and Ellana moves easily, if not without a slight, amused quirk of her lips. Her hands hardly go idle, though, and Josephine only barely resists the urge to press closer as they half-tumble over; instead keeping herself just barely aloft on one knee.

"You are entirely too distracting," she murmurs, and tastes the soft laugh on the back of her own tongue.

"I try." Even teeth sink gently into her lower lip and tug, and if that alone isn't enough to have Josephine drawing in an uneven breath, the tingle of nails against the outside curves of her breasts certainly do the trick. Then the leg she's straddling lifts just enough and... oh, Maker, that really isn't fair.

"Stop that," she chides, and frowns. Not because Ellana – after a brief flash of those teeth in a grin - relaxes into the mattress and folds her hands behind her head, but because of the thoroughly entertained look that settles on her face as she does so, and watches Josephine study her exposed body.

"If I were a trade agreement, I'd be terrified," she quips.

"Hush." Josephine gives her side a little tweak for that, but smiles at the chuckle. "Done distracting me?"

A lift of a single eyebrow, and a shrug of Ellana's shoulders. "For now."

That's going to have to do, Josephine supposes, and slides down a little further on the mattress with a minute shake of her head. The covers are bunching behind her as her hands slip over warm skin, and there's the subtle lift of slender hips when Ellana sighs. There's so much available for her to explore in spite of the surprisingly slight frame – enough that it's actually a little difficult to decide where to begin – but the intake of air that accompanies the touch of her lips to the swell of a breast seems to indicate that her starting point is appreciated, and so her hands and mouth trace... everything. The smooth rise of collarbones, the hills and valleys that make up Ellana's ribs, the slow curves of her chest and waist, and the hard points of rosy nipples that pebble under her tongue as Ellana arches against her.

Her stomach, too, is a source of endless fascination to Josephine. Flat and with the definite solidity of muscle, but also soft and supple and smooth as satin beneath her lips, and she spends a good amount of time tasting the outlines of those abs as they tense and relax under her touch; dipping the tip of her tongue into every little groove.

Into Ellana's navel, too, which earns her a long, pleading groan.

"Doucement, mon coeur," she murmurs.

Ellana is apparently quite capable of understanding Orlesian even in this state. "Patience, my ass," comes the growl, followed by a long-suffering sigh and the faint thump of her head hitting the pillows when Josephine lets her forehead drop to that firm abdomen and fails to suppress her chortle. "Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

"Only a little," she assures with a wink, and studies the ripple of muscle when she bites gently at the skin above the small indentation. Ticklish, perhaps?

Later, though, because right now, there's the faint, but definite rise of slim hips under her hands, and while Ellana is undeniably adorable when she's frustrated, Josephine very much wants to know... what this will be like with her.

It is, she finds, far beyond anything she has ever imagined. She's had lovers before, yes, but while she did love them in some way, she has never in her life loved like this. Not in this way where every sigh makes her skin prickle; where all it takes for her heart to leap in her chest is a low, almost startled moan and a hasty shift as one of Ellana's palms covers her own mouth.

"Don't," Josephine tells her, and catches the wrist before tugging. "I adore the sound of your voice, and I don't get the pleasure of hearing it near enough."

That earns her a short, breathless laugh, and the warm curl of fingers around her own. "Why do I think you'd say that even if I talked non-stop?"

"Presumably because I would," she returns goodnaturedly, and smiles at the hard inhalation that stirs the air when she lays a careful bite to the inside of Ellana's thigh. "Relax, my darling," she soothes, and admires the play of light and shadow over smooth skin as she explores gently. "I have no intention of breaking you."

"Yes, you do," is the groaned reply, and there's a deep, purposely slow breath when her fingers are coated in warm wetness and Ellana's chest strains for the ceiling. "It'd be a cause for serious concern if it was anyone but y- nh!"

Oh, Josephine definitely adores the sound of Ellana's voice. Especially like this; not loud – it rarely is - but faint and sighing and thick with the arousal that lingers in what little air remains between them. She adores how it breaks so deliciously when she twists her fingers, how the pitch wavers when her tongue traces careful swirls, and how the faintest glide of her nails makes even the softest breath tremble just like the skin under her hand.

She wonders, too, if the bodies of human and elven females are similar enough that she could curl her fingers just there and-

"Gods!"

Apparently so.

In the shifting shadows cast by fire- and sunlight both, Ellana is a vision; a fair, ethereal apparition moving against the sharp colors of the bedding, and after replacing her mouth with her thumb, Josephine rises up enough that she can better see her. Enough, in fact, that she can reach one of those oh-so-sensitive ears when Ellana tosses her head to one side and her hands grasp at any part of Josephine's skin that is within her reach, and so she does; holding herself just barely aloft on one elbow as she ducks her head and feels those lean arms pull her closer until they're skin to skin.

The single, hoarse gasp is well worth the tremble in her own arm, and she realizes somewhere – between the heated breaths and the shifting bodies and the soft sounds of pleasure – that she's feeling almost feverish, herself. The knowledge only makes her redouble her efforts; makes her press closer until she swears that she can feel Ellana's thundering heartbeats in her own chest; makes her thrust and taste and suck at that flawless skin until Ellana's nails are leaving indents in her back and they're wound so tightly together that they may as well be one.

And Ellana was right, Josephine muses in a very distant manner as her lips pull another blooming mark into place on trembling skin, because in a way, she does want to see her break.

Even in release, Ellana is quiet; displaying far more with the shuddering tension of her body, the dig of her fingertips into Josephine's skin and the slight, obviously controlled press of her teeth into Josephine's shoulder than she does with her voice. She shakes in Josephine's arms, and for a single, timeless moment, her breathing stills entirely and only resumes with a harsh inhale as her entire body – much like a bowstring – tightens and then seems to almost snap when then back of her head presses into the pillows and her face contorts almost as if she's in agony.

"Josephine!" she gasps – barely – and Josephine is so completely and utterly enraptured that even the act of breathing is secondary, because in those frozen seconds, Ellana is perfect. She is exquisite tension and quivering muscle; shimmering skin and mussed, flaxen hair; wide eyes and parted lips; harsh breaths against Josephine's skin and a burst of light in deep, midnight blue.

"I love you," Josephine whispers against those lips, and swallows the choked cry with her own mouth when she curls her fingers tighter and feels strong hands scrabble for a hold in her hair, at her skull, on her shoulders as Ellana's entire body jerks; trying to press closer and pull away all at once. She holds her fast, though, and her own heart is pounding against her ribs at the soft sounds that she can practically taste; higher and higher in pitch until there's finally stillness, silence, and the warmth of shuddering breathing.

Shaking fingers are moving up to cradle her face, and when Ellana sinks back into the pillows and those blue eyes are finally fully aware and meeting her own, the look in them is so much like awe that Josephine actually blushes.

"So that's what all the fuss is about, hm?" comes the breathless question as their foreheads touch, and Josephine's mouth quirks into a small, irrepressible grin.

"I'm glad you deem it worthy of 'fuss'," she teases, and trails her touch over warm, sweat-slicked skin.

"Oh, that was definitely fuss-worthy," Ellana decides on the tail-end of a laugh, and still sounds remarkably winded for someone who spends so much time running from one end of Thedas to the other. "In fact, I'm gonna need some time to recover before I can even think of returning the favor."

Josephine chuckles at that, and ducks her head enough for them to exchange a soft kiss. "I'm flattered," she murmurs into it, and feels the twitch of a smile in response. "Perhaps a bath in the meantime, then?"

"If I can manage to stand, absolutely."

She can, as it turns out, though admittedly, they do spend several moments kissing leisurely before either of them deign to move from the bed. Once they do, filling the tub is a shared task; both of them hefting and draining the buckets with Ellana only taking a short break to secure a small bottle of oil, and when she pours a dose of it into the water, the rising mist takes on the pleasant scents of citrus and lemongrass.

From the corner of her eye, Josephine watches Ellana card her fingers through her hair; slowly working out the tangles as she brushes it back and away from her face, and realizes that she's never actually seen her with her hair wet. Even on the occasions where she's returned in anything but favorable weather, the Inquisitor has usually taken some small amount of time to make herself presentable before venturing into her office. There was a time where Josephine had wondered if perhaps Ellana thought her to be a little too proper given how blasé she was about her appearance in front of others, but now, of course, she knows the true reason. Or can at least make a fairly accurate guess to it.

"Don't," she asks, and covers the hand that's reaching for a ribbon with one of her own in exchange for a curious look. "I've yet to see your hair slicked with water, and I'd like to."

There's a pause and a faint, considering tilt of Ellana's head at that, followed by a smile. "Of course."

So that's how they end up in the tub, and Josephine is glad that it's a well-built one complete with a carefully sanded little seat on the inside as well as a small stepping stool that can be placed by the outside, because entering or leaving it without either of those would be awkward at best, and dangerous at worst. It's deep enough that with two people in here they're both immersed to the chest when they kneel on the bottom, which is what she herself is currently doing while Ellana remains standing behind her.

"The tattoo around your eye," she starts, and fights the urge to fall asleep as strong, slender fingers work the water into her hair. "The... vallaslin?" The pronunciation gives her some difficulty, but the immediate response is no more than the brush of smiling lips against the top of her head, and a murmured repetition that subtly corrects her intonation.

"What of it?" Ellana then wonders; voice barely raising above the slow slosh of water as her hands first retract, and then return with a container of soft soap.

"It marks you as… belonging to one of the Elven gods, yes?"

"Of following Sylaise." The scent of vandal arias starts to gently permeate the air around them as those long fingers work her hair into a careful lather, and Josephine smiles at finally discovering why that smell always seems to hover around the other woman. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," she admits, just a little wryly, and settles her hands on her own thighs as her eyes slip shut. "There's so much I feel that I don't know about you."

"Hm." The pensive murmur is low, and there are calloused fingertips circling slowly at her temples. "Ask, then. I have no secrets; not from you."

Odd, how such a simple and straightforward statement of - apparently - fact is enough to make her breathing hitch. "Who is Sylaise, exactly?"

"The Hearthkeeper." The warm water sloshes against Josephine's skin, and then there's the touch of soap-free fingers against her forehead; guiding her head back. "She gave us fire to warm ourselves, showed us how to spin ropes and weave clothing, and taught us how to treat injuries and illnesses."

While that certainly explains the proficiency in healing that the Inquisitor's companions tend to discuss at length, Josephine somehow doubts that it's common for a warrior to follow that particular goddess. So she says so – over the sound of water being carefully scooped up and guided in trickles over her scalp – and smiles irresistibly at the soft breath of laughter.

"Correct," Ellana agrees. "But I've never really worried about traveling unusual paths."

"Why Sylaise, though?"

"Hunters tend to protect with violence," is the answer, with careful fingers combing through her hair and working every remnant of the sweet soap free. "I wanted to protect from it, as well. Or at least be able to help in the aftermath." She kneels in front of Josephine, then – facing her – and Josephine lifts herself onto the very edge of the small, built-in seat before claiming the container of soap, and wonders if she can possibly make the simple act of washing someone's hair at once as relaxing and thrilling as Ellana had so easily done for her.

The answer to that, she decides with a muffled chuckle when Ellana groans and slumps against her chest, is apparently an unequivocal yes.

"Is that why you elected to keep it?" she questions a few moments later; voice low as the tips of her fingers knead slowly at the back of her lover's skull.

"Hm?" She can feel the flutter of long lashes against her own skin; a brief, faint touch that ends when Ellana's hands settle more firmly on her knees and push down a little as she straightens enough for their eyes to meet. "Sorry; say that again?"

"You chose to keep this." Josephine dips one hand into the water to clear the lather off, and only then uses her fingers to trace the decorative swirls around one very blue eye. "Although Master Solas explained to you what it used to be."

"The mark of a slave." Ellana's eyelids flutter slowly, peacefully closed at the touch. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because history is the study of change." The answer is soft, and accompanied by the slightest quirk of those pale lips. "What once was is no more, and what is now only remains if we choose to let it." There is a breath – long and warm against her own face – and then those eyes open again; deep and gentle and full of so many things that Josephine can't even begin to count them. "To me, it's a reminder of path I want to travel. It's only the mark of a slave if that is how I think of it."

"And you don't," Josephine surmises, with a smile of her own.

"No," is the simple reply; brushing against her own mouth as Ellana noses her playfully.

There honestly should be some sort of rule disallowing someone so attractive from looking so thoroughly seductive; not that she particularly minds the view as Ellana pushes forward and upwards in a rush of mist and glittering, damp skin, but it does make it terribly difficult to think. That, of course, is in no way helped by the curious trace of calloused fingers against the sides of her ribs when her back settles against the side of the tub, or by having those eyes so close that she can make out every last one of a thousand shades of blue.

She's completely willing to resume her earlier exploration, of course, even more so when Ellana rises half out of the water; one bare knee settling on the small seat just shy of the apex of Josephine's thighs and her body gloriously exposed all the way down to her waist as she presses against her. Presses her back, in fact, until her head is resting against the edge of the tub; throat fully bared as she stares up into those burning eyes. So she reaches – cups a slender waist and traces the faint dips of firm muscle while Ellana ducks her head – and is stopped.

"No." The word is soft, but hot; breathed against her ear as long fingers close around her wrists and move them away, and that pull low in her gut is back with a vengeance. "This time, you don't get to distract me."

Is it possible to burst into flame while immersed in water? If it is, surely now is the time for it to happen, because her hands are being folded neatly around the edges of the tub while Ellana noses a few strands of slick hair away from the side of her throat, and when those wet lips latch on to her skin and suck, it's all Josephine can do to stay in her seat. Those fingers are moving, now; tracing over her arms and shoulders in the barest hint of tantalizing contact while Ellana's lips flutter like butterfly wings against the side of her jaw, and then – when Josephine swears that she's going to have to start being quite crude if the other woman doesn't just get on with it – there's the brush of agonizingly gentle fingers at the apex of her thighs.

"Maker," she gasps.

"Not even close," is the murmured reply against her breastbone, with Ellana's hair fanning out behind her as if it were some sort of halo.

Josephine lets her head drop back with a breathless laugh, and feels the smile against her skin when she relaxes and gives herself over to her lover's torturously curious intentions. Her fingers do clench around the edges of the tub, however, when there's an altogether different touch well below the surface of the water, and she wonders more than just a little distractedly exactly how long... Ellana can hold her breath for.

As it turns out – 'long enough'.