Archive of Our Own

The Inquisitor and her party return in the morning on a cool Autumn day, their business temporarily concluded - though surely not for long. Per’nah bids her companions adieu, running up to her room to change out of her riding clothes and then immediately searching out a specific someone, a someone who had hardly left her thoughts for the duration of the journey.

When she finds Solas in the rotunda, he greets her with an uncharacteristically passionate kiss, considering their surroundings and the audience in the library above them. She sounds her surprise in a yelp that melds into a moan, the noise swallowed by his mouth as he presses her firmly into his desk, his thigh pressed hard between hers and his hands cradling the swell of her ass.

It’s been weeks since they’ve seen one another in person; for the first time in their relationship, she had to embark on a mission without him. He found her in the fade, of course, weaving their dreams so that they spent long walks along winding rivers or curled together beneath their furs in a tent in the wilds.

She supposes the assault on her person at this moment is her own fault - not that she’s complaining. Their partnership is one of give and take, lead and follow, often switching roles and embracing it. But when Solas firmly asserts himself, dominates the direction of the moment, she finds herself melting with pleasure.

He is a force to be reckoned with, when the mood strikes him.

And it is hot as hell when it does.

She is more than capable of purposely stoking those fires in him, which is what she managed to do when they were apart. He always started their dreams innocently enough, but by the time they woke up each day, she had teased and flirted and seduced him to the brink of control, but never allowed anything to completely culminate. Solas never pushed, of course. But every time he met her in the fade, she could see the retribution building in his eyes.

She knew she would pay for it upon her return. She just didn’t know he would unleash that pent up arousal the second they were in the same room together, no matter who could see them.

One of his hands slides up her back to find the fabric tying her hair up into its ponytail. A sharp tug - she grunts into his mouth at the action - and her hair tumbles in luxurious waves around her shoulders. He grips the sleek black locks between his fingers to hold her head still, then kisses her again, his mouth bruising. She is completely at his mercy, pliant beneath a skilled and relentless tongue.

He doesn’t stay there, though. A sharp nip at her lower lip and then he jerks her head a little to the side, baring her neck. He sucks a trail across her jaw to her ear, nibbling her lobe and then laving it with his tongue. She bites her lip between her teeth, her hands scrabbling against his back, twisting into the material of his tunic. One palm rises to cup the back of his head to dig her nails into the skin there. Her hips unconsciously rock rhythmically against his thigh, searching desperately for some kind of friction - Solas seems to pay no mind, but somehow dodges her more successful attempts at contact.

When he moves his attentions to her neck, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin there, she lets out a loud mewl. Solas smirks against her skin.

A melodramatic throat clears above them, loud and pointed. Per’nah’s eyes snap open to see Dorian glaring down at them, though the man’s shit eating grin is peeking out at the corners of his mouth.

Solas doesn’t stop his assault until she stiffens in his arms, and even then, he takes his time. Kissing up her neck to her ear, he murmurs, “I will meet you in your quarters this evening, Inquisitor.”

The use of her title, the way it is rasped against her ear, leaves her trembling.

He steps away, then, seemingly unaffected - though she swears the tips of his ears are pink. She glances surreptitiously down at his groin, hoping to see some kind of evidence of what just happened on his person, but mentally curses when she realizes that the panels of his tunic are exceedingly apt at concealing.

She, on the other hand, is left panting and blushing profusely. While her dark skin usually hides a flush, she knows it offers no such assistance right now. And Creators is she wet. Her smalls are completely drenched. She considers checking to make sure she hasn’t soaked through her trousers as well, but ultimately decides against it. Especially when she glances up at Dorian again to find him leaning against the railing, chin perched on his palm, waggling his eyebrows at her. His smirk is insufferable.

She narrows her eyes at him in a challenge. He holds his palms up as if to placate her, though his smile remains firmly in place.

Everyone will know about this escapade in twenty minutes, if not less.

When she exits the rotunda, Dorian watches her go. Solas studiously ignores her. She doesn’t mind. She knows she will have his undivided attention come that evening.

Solas takes his dinner in the rotunda, as usual, and though she is tempted to join him - as usual - she is swept away by Sera and Blackwall, the unlikely pair crowing with laughter and refusing to leave her side. Per’nah and Solas pass each other in the grand hall - he on his way to the circular room, she on her way to the tavern. She smiles warmly at him and in return he lets his gaze sweep languidly down and then up her body, a knowing smile playing on his lips. When his gaze finds hers, she tries not to let him see how affected she is, but of course she fails. He nods at her and turns to leave, walking slowly, purposefully, and - damn him - he knows exactly what the sway of his hips does to her.

She’s glad for the boisterous distraction of dinner, caught up in giggles and jokes and tales of epic pranks. Excitement for what’s to come later tickles the edges of her thoughts, but otherwise she makes it through the few necessary hours until she can escape to her room without feeling guilty.

Solas doesn’t come by immediately. He hadn’t specified exactly what time he would be there, and Per’nah starts to realize that it is all part of his game. At first she changes into a very loose robe and her smalls and lounges across her bed, arranging herself in as sexy a way as she can. But after half an hour like that, and still no bald elf, she gives up and goes to her desk to finish some reports, ignoring the twang between her thighs, the endless imaginings of how their encounter will go.

Luckily, he doesn’t make her wait too much longer. An hour after moving to sit at her desk, the sound of the door to her stairs opening and closing startles her from the book she’s reading. She stuffs it under a stack of papers - no way will she let Solas in on the fact that she had pilfered Cassandra’s copy of Swords and Shields while out on this last mission.

“Inquisitor.”

She turns at his voice, smooth like velvet, the sound of it caressing her and sharpening her already painful desire. He holds his hands behind his back, stiff and proper, trying to play it cool. But she knows him. She sees the way his eyes darken, how his lips press together, how his breathing catches at the sight of her.

She stands to greet him. “Solas.”

He meanders closer, taking slow steps. His eyes never leave hers. “I have eagerly awaited your return.”

Her eyebrow arches. “If that display in the rotunda earlier is any indication, I certainly believe you.”

Solas’ eyes narrow, but he says nothing more until he is standing an inch away, arms still tucked behind him and looking down his nose at her. “Do you enjoy engaging in such behavior as you did this past month, Inquisitor?”

Per’nah reclines back against her desk, letting her robe fall open. She tries not to shudder openly at the way he sucks in a breath - though his eyes still do not move. “What behavior do you speak of, vhenan?”

He leans into her space. She leans further back to accommodate him, realizing belatedly that she’s made a mistake as his hand slides against her hip. But it doesn’t remain there; instead his palm presses down against the desk beside her.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he rumbles. His other hand touches the desk on her other side, caging her in. A wolfish grin spreads across his face when she moans softly at their proximity. He rubs his nose against her jaw and laps at her wildly leaping pulse point. “I’ve always loved a good hunt,” he breathes into her ear.

“Solas-” She’s barely groaned his named before his mouth is on hers. The kiss is like before - demanding, passionate, dominating. She can feel the battle in his mind through the tension in his body - the desire to touch her, to hold her close fighting with the desire to continue their game, to keep his distance and leave her begging for more.

She arches up, letting her breasts rub his chest. The touch snaps something in him. His control breaks and he closes the distance between them, pressing their chests together. Suddenly his hands are everywhere: sliding up her back, down to her ass, into her hair, along her sides. She breaks their kiss to gasp for air, moaning his name when he picks up where he left off in the rotunda, licking and sucking down her neck to her shoulder and collar bone. Roughened palms find her breasts through her breast band, thumbs flicking at already pert nipples. It isn’t enough, though, and he impatiently rips the material from her body so that he can bend down to wrap his lips around one of the dark pink buds.

“Oh gods. Solas, please.” She claws at the back of his head, encouraging him, begging him. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for, but it doesn’t stop the words from spilling out.

Solas kneels in front of her, nipping down the taught muscles of her abdomen to her navel. Out of nowhere, he touches his forehead to her belly and groans her name. “Your scent is intoxicating,” he growls. “Do you know how many mornings I woke alone, wishing for the taste of you on my tongue? And how I was denied it?” He yanks her smalls down her thighs to her knees. “Can you imagine how I suffered as you tormented me in our dreams, longing to devour you but knowing that no such wish could be truly fulfilled, even in the fade?” He rubs his nose against the soft, sparse hair at the juncture of her thighs, inhaling deeply. ”There is no more divine a treat than this.”

At this point her legs are shaking. She waits with baited breath for his lips to touch her, to feel his tongue between her legs. But the touch never comes. Instead he stands abruptly. She makes an affronted noise, thinking not even her devious games deserve such a ruthless prize, but he surprises her by reaching around her to swipe his arm along the top of her desk, sending it’s contents spilling onto the floor. She doesn’t even have a chance to protest before he’s lifting her up and onto the now cleared space. He grasps her thighs so that he can turn her to lay back lengthwise atop the furniture, then finishes removing her smalls. Her legs fall open before him. His eyes trace her curves and contours and the wetness he has inspired. “Emm’asha...” The word is reverent.

Finally, she thinks, expecting him to get on with it, but he turns to walk away. She balks, truly offended. “What are you-” He returns from her bed with three pillows and she blushes, her entire face lighting up like a lantern. He drops one pillow to the floor at the foot of the desk and slides the others beneath her head and her hips, then settles again between her legs.

“I wish for you to be as comfortable as possible, emma lath... We are going to be here a while.” His grin is devious.

It takes a second for her to realize what he means, but when she does, she let’s out a pleased yet startled little oh that turns into a low loan when his lips brush the inside of her knee.

Normally, he would take his time teasing up her inner thighs, along the crease where thigh meets pelvis. One of his favorite things is to ghost his lips long her folds, barely there but enough to drive her mad with wanting.

Not today. She had teased him too long, and he is impatient. He tugs her to the edge of the desk and lifts her knees over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around her thighs. His tongue swipes up her slit in one firm motion, swirling against her clit. She cries out, swallowed by heavenly pleasure-pain, so aroused it hurts. He laps at the sensitive nub a few more times before dipping his tongue inside of her. He continues like this, switching from her clit to her opening, lapping at the space between the two, until she comes apart against his mouth, his name a long note of pleasure that echoes off the windows around them.

The fingers that had managed to find the back of his head as he devoured her slacken, expecting him to let her rest, but her lover is relentless. He sucks her arousal from the skin around her folds, humming against her, letting his voice vibrate through her. The few seconds spared give her enough of a reprieve that when he wraps his lips around her clit, she isn’t still too sensitive from her first orgasm. Instead the suction sends her cresting over another in a matter of seconds.

Now he lets her catch her breath, dedicating himself to tasting the skin of her thighs, carefully cleaning her of her own juices. She pants above him, eyes screwed shut and mumbling incoherently to herself.

“How do you feel, vhenan?”

Her answer is a loud grunt. Solas chuckles, smirking to himself. Per’nah opens her eyes to watch him through her lashes.

He nuzzles her hip affectionately, licking his lips provocatively. A surge of new arousal spreads through her.

“Are you ready for another round, ma sa’lath?”

Her eyes widen. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

This time it takes much longer for her to climax again, but Solas is, as always, dedicated to his task. Licks and sucks and nibbles along her slit have her moaning his name and writhing beneath him. He rubs the flat of his tongue against her clit, slowly, teasingly, drawing out every whimper from her lips. When her hips begin to rock against his mouth, he knows she is building closer and closer to another orgasm, which proves to encourage him even more. He sucks relentlessly at her nub until his name is torn from her throat, her voice hoarse with use. Even then, he doesn’t stop, powering her through her orgasm until another is mounting and suddenly slams into her. She gasps, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Solas brings her down from this one slowly, his hands massaging her thighs.

Sweat pebbles heavily along her brow, the rest of her body covered in a light sheen. Her abdominal muscles contract and relax, already sore from so much use, but the rest of her body lays limp and motionless. Solas stands and hovers over her, smiling warmly down at her. His lips and chin shimmer with the remnants of his feast, making her giggle.

With incredible effort, she lifts her hand to curve around the back of his neck, tugging him down to her. “Vhenan, you have a little...” Her voices fades away as she licks his bottom lip. They both groan - he at her action and she at the taste of herself. The following kiss is slow. Sensual. Her flavor on his tongue reinvigorates her, sending energy sizzling through her veins. She wraps her legs around his waist and moans when he grinds his erection against her, the thick cotton of his tunic rubbing her still sensitive folds.

“Too many clothes,” she mumbles. Impatient fingers shove his tunic up, forgetting his belt in the process. He tries to do it instead, but she stubbornly continues in her efforts, batting his hands away.

“Vhenan,” he chastises, and wraps one large hand around her wrist. He pins it to the desk beside her head. “Let me.”

She doesn’t know how he does it, but somehow he removes his belt with one hand, then his necklace. He releases her wrist to pull off his tunic and then his under shirt, groaning when delicate fingers scrape up his bare sides and across his nipples while his arms are tangled in the material. She busies herself with dragging her nails along any accessible bare skin as he bends to remove his leg wrappings. Clad in only his leggings, he scoops her up into his arms, grinning when she shrieks in surprise. She distracts him with a passionate kiss, turning a seconds-long walk into a minutes-long one as his tongue dominates hers.

He drops her unceremoniously onto her bed - their bed, really, after all this time and all they’ve been through together - quickly discarding his leggings and his smalls. His cock bobs between them as he climbs onto the bed with her. Her hand wraps around him when he lowers himself on top of her, fingers squeezing and stroking him. He is hard and throbbing, his excitement leaking slowly from his tip. She swipes her thumb through it, languishing in his groan, and lifts her hand so that she can lick the moisture off her thumb.

There isn’t time to lavish him with the same attention he paid her; he’s already pressing his cock against her entrance, waiting for permission. A jerk of her hips up against his is all he needs. In one fluid motion, he sheathes himself inside of her, her body still wet and open and so very eager to welcome him. The feeling of being joined again after weeks apart... she can’t describe it, instead expressing the joy and pleasure and feeling of completion with an exultant moan of his name. He answers with a guttural moan of his own that sounds something like vhenan.

He folds and tucks his knees against her hips, sitting back on his haunches to give himself more leverage to thrust. Her thighs wrap around his waist, her arms around his upper back. He leans over her and props himself above her with his elbows on either side of her head.

Stretching up to brush her lips against his, she teases his lower lip with her teeth. He moves slowly inside her, measured thrusts and deliberate rolls of his hips that grind against that sensitive spot inside her. Per’nah grazes her teeth along the shell of his ear, making him jerk in surprise. She hums a giggle at the motion, the sound melting into a moan when he thrusts sharply in reprimand.

From there his momentum picks up, pounding into her, passionate and eager yet holding slightly back. He keeps an even rhythm as she peppers kisses and bites across his shoulders, his neck, his chest. Her fingers swipe up and down the pronounced, straining muscles of his back as the sound of their skin slapping together fills the room. He occasionally catches her mouth with his, spontaneous and messy kisses wild with devotion. Her name tumbles from his lips, his name carries on a sensual cries. She feels that familiar sensation of an orgasm building, but his current pace is not enough, and ecstasy seems just out of reach.

She drags her nails down his back to his ass, gripping it tightly and using it as leverage to jerk her hips up and into his.

Pressing her lips to his ear, she growls, “Elvar’el. Sathan. Fuck me like you mean it, vhenan.”

The strangled noise that rumbles from his throat sounds suspiciously like a whimper. “Ma nuvenin,” he grunts. His hands find hers, one by one, prying them from his backside before intertwining their fingers and pinning her arms above her head. His forehead presses against hers as his thrusts come harder, faster, deeper, their gazes locked, a smile on her lips.

Their love making is not usually like this – rough and primal and hard – instead, Solas usually makes love to her as though perusing through a cherished book, fingers finding every pleasurable nook and cranny, tongue wrapping around favorite phrases and words. Each moment is like he is rediscovering what he loves about the work, patiently drawing each thought and feeling out into overwhelming pleasure.

Now, though, now he takes her with abandon, his voice raw and echoing through her chambers. Her grin dissolves as her orgasm builds.

When he sees how close she is, he unwinds their fingers and instead pins both of her wrists with one hand. His other slides under her thigh, tugging it up until her calf hooks over his bicep. The new position sets him even deeper inside of her, as deep as he can possibly go. The noise she makes shoots straight to his groin.

"Solas-"

He kisses her as she comes, swallowing her keening, the sound louder than usual. She, in turn, tastes his guttural shout as he comes right on her heels.

He collapses on top of her, though she welcomes the weight of him. It seems to keep her body from floating off into the sky, as it would surely do if he weren’t there to anchor her. Every inch of her feels weightless, as if transcending into the void. Her mind is gloriously blank, instead buzzing with intense satisfaction. Her body twitches and contracts sporadically around him, her orgasm very, very slowly tapering off.

His face presses into the crook of her neck, and she might think he’d died if it weren’t for his breaths puffing against her shoulder and the steady press of his chest as he inhales and exhales.

“I am going to be so sore tomorrow,” she mumbles. Solas chuckles, the sound reverberating through his body and into hers.

He rolls off of her, scooping her up into his arms so that she’s half on top of him.  She reaches down to pull the blanket over them.

Pressing his lips to the top of her head, Solas murmurs,"I have missed you dearly, vhenan.”

Per’nah sighs, snuggling closer. “I missed you, too, ma sa’lath. But if this is the reception I get when I have to leave you behind...”

He grumbles affectionately. “I believe I will have to step up my game in the fade then.”

She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”