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therebelwolfgirl99 · 4 years

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Of Elfroot and Broken Locks

(I’ve decided that this needs to live on Tumblr as well)

It begins in their tent during a particularly hot night in the Hinterlands.

She understands the need to seek out a cool spot, but the timing is abysmal. And for a while they do nothing but listen, waiting for the footsteps to retreat, but the person—fucking Varric—has grown roots outside their tent.

For Creators’ sake, she can hear him breathing.

Solas shifts uncomfortably atop her and she remembers their circumstances. Acutely aware of his hand between her legs and the throbbing weight of his cock pressed deliciously to her belly, she decides that she doesn’t care. She just doesn’t care. It’s not as if they haven’t been quiet before.

It takes but one roll of her hips to entice him into continuing. Whatever reservations he had, are quick to flee as she stutters a sigh against his ear when his fingers curl just so and resume their languid rhythm. His thumb circles her clit, soft and teasing, before applying enough pressure to make her nibble at his lower lip. His breath is hot and hers is even hotter and she feels lightheaded, deprived of fresh air. She doesn’t want to gasp, doesn’t want to breathe—anything, everything would be too loud.

Her squirming causes him to pull away, wet fingers sliding over the inside of her thigh, the oversensitive flesh shivering at his dragging touch, before settling on her hip. He presses her hard into the bedroll and his mouth seeks out her throat, finds the pulse point and latches on to it. He doesn’t move, but with every breath rushing past his parted lips her skin grows a little more feverish. Droplets of sweat pool into the crook of her neck and he chases them with his tongue, and she decides to reward him by reaching down and gripping the hard length of him.

His hips jerk, instinctively thrusting against her hand, but it doesn’t last. He seizes her wrist to guide it away and now the angle is just right. She wriggles, but it’s not enough to bring him closer and he only shakes his head in gentle, teasing reprimand. Impatient fingers tickle the underside of her knees in encouragement to wrap around him. So she does. And it’s been a while since they’ve had any kind of privacy so the sudden roll of his hips is unexpected, but she likes the feeling of being filled so completely. The stretch is almost painful at first, a small burn, but it doesn’t last because he finds the flow she needs and it’s perfect.

When she bites his shoulder, he returns the sentiment by nipping at the thin flesh above her clavicle. One hand reaches down and slides over the small of her back until he’s cupping her ass, the glide of his palm facilitated by the sweat between them. He squeezes and when she laughs he uses the opportunity to hitch her leg further up.

Her resolve to remain quiet suddenly decides to depart. She forgets herself and gasps. Because like this he manages to hit something inside of her that makes her want to claw his back bloody every time he thrusts.

It’s also when they hear someone clear their throat outside of their tent.

Solas freezes.

So does she.

And once more they just stay there, though the position is infinitely more irritating than before. She can feel his cock twitch inside her every time her breasts brush against his chest, and her frenzied breathing just won’t slow down.

And then slowly, so slowly one hand crawls down and fingers press mercilessly to her clit. He is quick to swallow her surprise, his own lips swollen and bruised from all the worrying she did with her teeth. She doesn’t expect him to break the silence, but he does.

“There is a crop of elfroot we should see to in the morning,” Solas says.

And, well, doesn’t he sound unusually composed for someone rutting between her legs. The next time he moves, it is forceful enough to make her slide—or rather she would have slid away, had the bedroll not been so ragged. Instead, the fabric burns her back.

He’s stilled. His fingers are still swirling, slick and lazy, and she feels on fire but it is not enough. He looks down at her with the expression. It’s almost stern.

And no.

Just no.

He expects her to carry out this ridiculous conversation and she will not. Not when she’s so close and coiled so tight. She rocks against him, lifting her hips as much as his weight allows. And, if anything, he looks very amused to watch as she fucks herself on his cock, even craning his neck for a better view.

But it’s exhausting.

“Yes, yes,” she grumbles, “we’ll see to the elfroot.”

He lifts her just enough to slide his palms down her spine, cradling her to him. No matter what he thinks, the obscene, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh will not be muffled by their idle talk.

“We are running out of potions,” he says.

“Can’t have that,” she says. “Varric took a very nasty tumble today,” she adds as an afterthought.

At that, he draws back just enough to frown at her. As much as his tight grip allows, she shrugs, delighting in the way their slick skin clings together.

He hides his face in her hair with a huff and she stifles a giggle. He was the one who wanted to talk, after all.

Thankfully, her mention of Varric and the unavoidable mental image of his glorious chest hair doesn’t cool his ardor. All at once he’s coming and this closeness, his smell, his taste, his harsh breath crashing against every inch of her, is enough to send her over the edge. Still, he outlasts her and she just holds on to him as he rides out his release, hips slowing down to shallow thrusts until he follows her down, content and spent.

When he shifts off her, she rolls onto her side to whisper into his ear.

“Moron,” she says.

He’s not fooling anyone. What a tit.

In the darkness, she thinks she sees him roll his eyes. Of course, he would never acknowledge indulging in such a juvenile gesture if she were to point it out so she just laughs.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers, “we must wake early.” His hand finds hers and gives it an affectionate squeeze.

“Yes, of course,” she says matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t want all that elfroot running off.”

When her giggle turns into a snort, he pinches her thigh and she squeals.

“So how about that elfroot, huh?” Varric asks in the morning.

Solas has gone deaf. He notices little and hears nothing. Nevertheless, he shoots the dwarf a death glare.

Varric offers her a high-five which she eagerly returns.

The second time it happens they’re in the dusty library below Skyhold and she has to give him credit. He’s gotten creative.

She’s not even sure how they went from perusing the crooked shelves to tearing off each other’s clothes, but it’s hardly a concern worth entertaining. Not when he grips her by the shoulders and drags her up the instant she draws back for breath, the tip of his cock rolling over her lower lip.

Her leggings and smalls are barely shoved past her knees when he guides her down onto himself. He sighs, trembles beneath her, and brushes aside her knotted hair so his lips are free to seek out her shoulder.

“It is an old archive with texts the scholars of Minrathous would go green with envy for,” a chirpy, confident voice announces.

It arrives with an echo, suggesting the person—fucking Josephine, this time—still has a way to go.

But she is still much, much too close for comfort.

Solas groans. His fingers dig into her hips as he lifts her and she allows it only to sink back onto him once more. She sets an unhurried pace and he wraps an arm around her waist and mirrors her movements, thrusting up whenever she slides down. And the hot drag of his cock is enough to make her see stars. She reaches down and touches herself; because he’s already breathing so hard and she won’t let him win this race. He bats her hand away, intent on being the only one to touch her, but she guides his hand, rolls his fingers firmly against her swollen nub and then he really can’t complain about the little cries escaping her. What a delightful, joint effort this is.

A terrible sound heralds someone fiddling with the lock on the door.

She sees the knob turn to ice and then Solas’ hand clamps over her mouth. Josephine’s frustrated huffing and puffing is followed by a disappointed chorus of tsks and oohs. Whatever scholars she’s brought along are very saddened the tour has been cut short.

She tries not to laugh.

She tries so hard.

Her tongue darts out to tease his palm.

He snaps. She thinks he is going to push her off, and he does push her—flat against the ancient table until she is left raking her nails up and down the old mahogany.

“I’m afraid the door is jammed, Ambassador,” Solas calls out.

She presses he forehead to the wood, willing the rise and fall of her chest to adapt a less frantic pace. But it’s impossible. Not when he’s slowly, so very slowly fucking her from behind.

“Oh!” Josephine exclaims in turmoil. “Shall I get Sera, then? She might be able to work around this lock.”

A particularly sharp thrust. His teeth closing over the tip of her ear. “I believe it would be best,” Solas says.

She grips the edge of the desk because suddenly she’s coming—and he feels it and all at once he’s pounding at her—and she can’t think clearly at all. Deft fingers trace the length of her spine, soon followed by lips as he spills within her.

Her treacherous throat must have left something slip, because there’s yet another surprised sound behind the door.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine inquiries.

Solas collapses into his chair and she climbs into his lap. He nuzzles her throat. Lavishes wet kisses upon the trail of bruises at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She feels him soften, still nestled between her legs, and it is a lovely little intimacy. She kisses his cheek and breathes in deep.

She doesn’t have much dignity left—especially with her leggings and smalls bunched around one ankle as seed trickles down her thighs—but somehow she manages to call forth her most diplomatic of tones.

“Solas is right, you should get Sera,” she says, because suggesting she fetch Varric would earn her another glorious not-quite-eye-roll.

She won’t be able to look Josephine in the eye ever again.

“Could have just remained quiet,” she murmurs, turning her head to catch his lips in a sloppy kiss.

Solas scrunches his eyes. He groans and presses his forehead to hers.

“I was caught off guard,” he confesses.

“Always so talkative,” she chuckles. “Help me braid my hair.”

The third time, they are actually in her quarters. He shouldn’t even be feeling uneasy, all things considered. It is a private space; for once, they are not the intruders.

But he turns to stone and no amount of cajoling succeeds in inciting his clever mouth to return to her. He gives the inside of her thigh a gentle, apologetic kiss and crawls back up to lie at her side.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen’s hesitant voice calls out as he continually raps his knuckles against the locked door.

Fucking Cullen.

She is quicker this time.

She catches the exact moment his lips part and smothers whatever reply itches to escape. She sits astride him, feeling his achingly hard cock strain against the confines of his trousers.

“Don’t you dare start a conversation with Cullen through the door,” she hisses.

She is not going to discuss war preparations while riding him. She is not.

As far as punishments go, she certainly could have found a harsher one. Somehow, sliding a hand down to stroke him seems counterproductive. But he arches up to meet her and suddenly it doesn’t really matter.

She laughs, breathlessly and high. His arms lock around her waist to pull her down until his nose is brushing hers.

“How are you so awkward?” she asks, mapping his face with kisses.

He swipes his thumb over her swollen lips and she makes a show of trying to bite it. He laughs, the sound a deep rumble in his chest which she delights in experiencing firsthand. It slithers from his skin to hers and she feels it, feels him, and it’s something she wants to sink her claws into and never let go.

“You are unique and steal my breath away,” Solas says.

One of his less poetic lines—certainly very cheesy—but the blush which colors her cheeks is innocent and sincere. Impossible to fight.

She’s the one to roll her eyes this time.

“What a tit,” she says. “Take off your pants.”

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therebelwolfgirl99 · 4 years

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Throne

Thrones were meant to be dignified, were meant for jewel- and silk-clad people to sit in as they looked down their noses at the people who came to petition them. They were meant to be seen, to be gazed at with awe and coveted. Yet that was not the use of the Inquisitor’s throne when Solas sat in it.

His lips were hot and soft as they devoured the woman in his lap, her desperate whines catching in his throat. His hands on her hips kneaded her flesh, reveling in her nudity as he was fully clothed. Her knees clenched on his thighs as he bit her lip and tugged on it, his hands roaming onto her backside. He moaned as he palmed her ass, squeezing, and she keened for him.

“Ah, Inquisitor, do attempt to be quiet,” he admonished, breathing heavily and smirking at her. “It would be such a shame for you to wake all of Skyhold with these sounds of yours.”

She responded by biting his neck, sucking his skin into her mouth and marking him. He groaned as she did, one hand tangling in her hair to encourage the touch as his head fell back to give her access. When she was satisfied, she breathed cold air across the bite to make him shiver.

“You like it when I’m loud,” she murmured into his ear, tongue tracing up the length. He caught her jaw in his hand before she could bite the tip and brought her face back to his.

“Perhaps,” he allowed, smirking again. Then he pushed her off his lap. She squeaked and struggled to clamber back into place, but he wouldn’t let her. He spun her to face the hall before he pulled her into his lap, draping her legs over his knees so he could open her. She squirmed in his arms and tried to close her legs, but he wrapped one arm around her waist and slipped his other hand between her thighs to cup her sex and she stilled, trembling. He smirked in her hair.

“If someone walks in, they will see all of me,” she protested, but her voice was soft, whispery, and eager. She liked that thought, that she would be seen like this, at his mercy in the throes of pleasure. He chuckled as he kissed her neck, swiping a thumb across one nipple to make her shudder.

“Would you like that, ma lath?” he asked her, dragging his lips up the long blade of her ear. “Would you like to scream your pleasure at my touch to a crowded room, all bearing witness to my claim?” His magic surged as he cast shadows in the form of people lining the walls, watching them. She shuddered and her juices began to seep through his fingers though he had not even parted her lips yet. “It seems that you would,” he observed, pleased and aroused. He shifted his hips to grind his erection against her bare ass, then reached between her legs to open his trousers and free his cock from them. He spread his knees to open her wider, soft and supple ass warm against his hard cock. He finally slipped his fingers into her folds to tease her sex and her head fell back against his shoulder as she gasped. Her hands moved to her breasts to touch herself, but he didn’t like that, so he curled her fingers around the arms of the throne tightly. “Do not touch yourself,” he warned at her ear. “Keep your hands here until I tell you otherwise.” She nodded slightly and he kissed her cheek for her obedience.

He returned his touch to her cunt, his other hand cupping her breast to pluck at her nipple. Her hips shifted restlessly as he teased her entrance, not quite penetrating her. He gathered her dripping juices on his fingers and trailed a path up from her entrance to find her clit. She tensed and gasped as he found it with the ease of practice, fingers swirling around it gently until he pressed on it gently. She turned her head into his neck to help her muffle the desperate noises she made and he slid his fingers from her clit to slip them inside her. She squeaked and he groaned at how easily she took them, her cunt so slick it was dripping onto the throne.

“Sathan,” she whispered desperately, her body shaking in his arms, the scent of her arousal making his cock twitch against her ass. “Please, Solas, please.”

“Ask me, vhenan,” he growled into her ear. “Say the words.”

“Fuck me,” she breathed.

“Louder, ma lath,” he commanded, his lips curving up. “Tell me what you need.”

She moaned and writhed against him but she would not achieve her goal without his help. “Fuck me, Solas, please,” she begged a little too loudly for the silence of the hall. He chucked and thrust two fingers within her.

“Like that?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that it was not what she wanted.

Her hips shifted and she whined. “No, no… Please, Solas.”

He stilled his touch entirely and she keened, trying to get him to truly fuck her without moving her hands from the arms of the throne. “You must say it, vhenan.”

She whimpered and hesitated, so he pulled his fingers out of her and rested his hand on her lower belly, tips of his fingers teasing at her mound. She gasped as the cold air hit her hot, wet flesh and tried to close her legs against it, but he kept them open and draped over his knees.

“C-cold!” she protested, writhing in his grasp.

“Then say it, vhenan, and I will warm you,” he commanded again.

“Fuck me!” she cried at last. “Put your cock in me and fuck me, please! Please, Solas, please, I need your cock in me!” She gasped and writhed until he lifted her hips and let his straining cock finally slide home within her. She keened, hiding her face in his neck, and he groaned into her hair as her wet heat enveloped his aching erection. Scorching heat filled his belly and spread through his body as his cock twitched within her.

He could hold back for their game no longer and he thrust up into her desperately. She bounced for him, fucking him in return as the wet slap of their skin filled the hall. His hand returned to her cunt and his fingers found her clit as they fucked and she keened again, shuddering. They would not last long so he was merciless, torturing her clit with lightning and filling her body with heat. It took mere moments for her to reach orgasm, keening instead of screaming as her body clenched around him, stiffening in his arms. He fucked up into her as she lost all sense, her walls tightening around his cock in waves. The wet heat of her and the pleasure of her orgasm finished him quickly and he groaned as he spent his seed, liquid warmth shooting up his spine with pleasure so intense that it was almost a relief when it was over, his eyes rolling back in his head. He relaxed against the throne as he finished and she went limp in his lap, boneless. He saw her begin to move her hands, likely to touch him, but she remembered herself at the last moment and gripped the throne again. He smiled, pleased with her, and released her from her vow.

“You may move your hands now, ma lath,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear. She shivered before reaching one hand back to cradle his head and placing the other over the hand that rested on her stomach.

“Ar lath ma, Solas,” she whispered to him. He shifted her until he could claim her lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he replied. Gently, he allowed his cock to slip out of her, both of them shuddering in response, then scooped her into his arms to clean her up and take her to bed.

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