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thevikingwoman · 7 months

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Saw a post on Finish your WIPs February and I was not going to do any of that, except Solas and Iwyn insisted. It was fun writing them again.

Originally started in 2021, for a kinky bingo prompt of "infidelity", here's Solas and Iwyn enjoying some art, and each other - acting on their attraction to each other after Iwyn's husband leaves.

Fandom: Dragon Age | Words: 4114 | Read on Ao3

Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | Modern AU | smut Rating: Explicit. Infidelity, smut, fluff, angst, Iwyn is lonely, her husband is a bit boring, Solas is lonely too, nothing new here though, oral, piv sex, safe sex, casual relationship

Casual Fun

There is a surprising amount of rich, beautiful people at the museum. Solas knows many donors are more interested in getting their name in the brochures – or even better, in brass on the entrance pillar –but they still attend events to mingle and make sure everyone else knows they are there.

It’s still more crowded than he anticipated. The foyer is busy, a string quartet plays, and the trays of canapes and sparkling wine are quickly refilled.

The patrons of the arts, all dressed up. It doesn’t matter why people are here – the museum is free Wednesdays and Sundays, and hands out scholarships to young artists and that matters. Solas doesn’t much care about making connections or socializing, but he does care that there is money for the arts, and this is why he donates himself, of course.

It’s the opening of the A. Brenhan exhibition – a renown Orzammar artist who rarely allows his works to be shown on the surface. Solas had hoped to see the collection relatively undisturbed, and initially the throng of people had dashed his hopes. When he makes his way to the special exhibit on the second floor, he realizes he was wrong. Very few people wander the exhibit. It seems everyone is more interested in the spectacle that is themselves.

He spends some time on the charcoal sketches. It’s mostly architecture. Forgotten Thaigs and empty corridors and old houses. The story behind them is more interesting than the sketches themselves.

Most people actively browsing the gallery are in pairs or small groups. Like himself, they might have a more serious interest in the art, or simply worry about missing out. While he appreciates the peace and quiet here, he does wish he had someone to discuss the art with.

Solas moves to the next part of the exhibit, what Brenhan is most known for. Oil paintings on large canvasses, larger than Solas is tall. The kind of work you hang in museums, or maybe in mansions of some of the very rich. No matter, the artist’s fame is well deserved. Most of the paintings feature Dwarven architecture, ancient and modern both, but above them an impossible sky. Brenhan is a traditionalist, and has never left Orzammar, and doesn’t truly know what the sky looks like. The effect is eerie and unsettling, and meant to be so.

“I can’t decide if I love it, hate it, or just find it odd.”

Solas is startled by the woman next to him. He’d not noticed her, or assumed she was part of the group that moved on.

“It’s captivating nonetheless,” he offers.

“I agree. It’s one of the more interesting exhibits recently.”

He turns to her, and she is captivating too. Her dress is a shimmery white, contrasting with her tan skin and red hair piled on top of her head. Diamonds drip from her pointed ears and her green eyes sparkle. As she moves, his eyes are drawn to the high slit in her dress and her tall heels.

He quickly looks back at her face, and she smirks at him.

“Do you often attend the openings?” he asks, and realizes this is almost as cliche as do you come here often? He wanted someone to talk to, and now he wants to sink into the floor.

“Most of them, if I can.” She smiles and holds out her hand. “I’m Iwyn.”

He takes it, and she gives a firm handshake.

“Solas.”

“So, Solas, are you familiar with Brenhan’s work?”

“Some. I have not seen such an extensive collection before. From what I understand it is the most comprehensive exhibition of his works. Outside Orzammar, of course.”

“Yes, I’ve heard so too. I did see some of his work in the Museum of Modern Art in Denerim, but it was only a few. I do find his work intriguing, and a lot more impressive in person.”

“It’s the scale of it. It doesn’t translate well to a catalogue.”

Iwyn agrees and they talk more about the paintings, moving from one room to the next in the exhibit. He learns that her interest in art is recent, and he has plenty of knowledge he can share with her. Her own insights are unique and interesting still, seeing the soul and emotion of the pictures without the baggage of art study. The conversation is invigorating and easy.

Sometime later, an elven man joins them. He’s a little shorter than Solas, with a square jaw and long dark hair gathered in a bun at his neck. He leans over and kisses Iwyn on the cheek.

“Hello, dear.”

“Solas, this is my husband Halier. Halier, Solas is an art enthusiast and he’s been sharing interesting thoughts on the exhibit.”

Solas heart drops in chest and he instinctively puts space between him and Iwyn. He’s enjoyed their conversation immensely, and working to steer the conversation away from the art and towards leaving for drinks. Like a fool, he’d ignored the large diamond ring on her finger. It went with her earrings and bracelet.

Halier grunts and thrusts out his hand, and Solas can do nothing else but take it.

“Solas. I’m sure I’ve seen you before – where do you work?”

“I’m a partner at Evanuris Wealth Management.”

“Of course. I must have seen your picture in your office. I’m a partner with Lavellan, Lavellan & Sabrae Law Firm.”

“Very nice.”

Solas isn’t here to discuss business. Most days, he doesn’t hate his job, or the family business, and he’s glad it allows him to support the arts like this, but he also doesn’t want it to consume his life. He isn’t here to discuss business.

“Are you done here?” Halier directs his question at Iwyn, but does not wait for her response. “I’d like to get out of here, I have that early flight tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer. Take the car, I’ll grab a cab.” Iwyn fishes a valet ticket out of her clutch, and lightly kisses Halier’s cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t. I have to be at the airport at 6am. Goodnight, dear.” He takes the ticket, and nods at Solas. “Solas, nice to meet you. We can discuss business at some other time, perhaps. Thank you for entertaining my wife.”

“A pleasure.”

Solas watches as Halier leaves, but his attention is soon back on Iwyn.

"My husband finds these things terribly boring,” she says. “We're donors, and he likes his name on something cultured along with the tax deduction, but that's it."

"And you don’t find these things boring?"

“I like the events, and the art. Especially with interesting company.”

He doesn’t know how to interpret that, with her sly smile and sparkling eyes and husband retreating down the stairs.

“The art is certainly better with good company.”

He closes a little of the space between them, and he wants her to forget her husband existed. Fuck.

“I’d love to look at the final part of the exhibit. Do you want to join me, Solas?”

She brushes past him, her fingers skimming his arm as she gestures towards the last room they have not explored. He’s no idea if it’s deliberate, but the heat of her sears him through his jacket.

They spend another thirty minutes, at least, taking in the final room. The art is interesting, but more and more he finds himself staring at Iwyn. She catches him, at one point, causing him to quickly avert his eyes and stumble over his words.

Iwyn puts a hand on his arm.

“How about getting some drinks? It seems you’ve lost interest in the art.”

“I’m looking at a different type of art, even more interesting and beautiful.”

It slips out before he can stop himself, but she just gives him a crooked smile.

“Let’s get out of there, Solas.”

Iwyn takes Solas to a nearby bar. There’s a risk someone would know her and her husband, of course, but she’s willing to take it. Halier already knows she was talking with him, and they’re just here to talk a little more. Maybe, she admits, she wants to more than talk. She likes his eyes on her, the intensity in them when he looks at her. She likes his voice, and the way he called her beautiful just earlier. Brazen and rebellious.

The bar is nice enough, a regular upscale bar matching the surrounding office buildings, galleries, art museum, restaurants, and symphony hall. She thinks it was featured recently in the nightlife section of the local newspaper, but she isn’t sure. Iwyn orders the featured drink, The Divine’s Night Off, with crystal grace infused gin, brown sugar syrup and Navarran orange liqueur. Solas orders a fruity pink grapefruit vodka concoction.

They make careful small talk, at first. About art, and the museum and the ballet (Solas is a fan, Iwyn isn’t) and other arts that the city offers. They carefully avoid talking about work or what Solas does for a living. It’s clear that his company and her husband’s do some business, and she doesn’t want to think about that.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at the donor evenings before. We – I try to go to most of them.”

“I have been a donor for a while now, but the last two years I’ve been in Kirkwall. For work.”

Solas makes a face, and she grins. No one really likes Kirkwall, not even the people from there.

“Happy to be back in Wycome?”

“Most certainly. Kirkland is boring at best, and polluted and prejudiced at its worst. It is a relief to be back. Though I must say that I did not expect the event to be that enticing.”

His voice sends shivers down her spine.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Solas. It made my evening a lot more exciting so far.”

“So far?”

“It could become more exciting.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She’s bored and lonely most of the time, if she’s honest, and Solas offers something new and different. She wants his hands all over her. She wants to fuck him. There are many reasons she’s still married to Halier, but mediocre sex isn’t one of them. She never thought of meeting someone like this, flirting like this. The thrill of it is lightning in her veins, and the fact that Solas knows about her husband intensifies it.

Solas takes a sip of his drink, and traces the edge of his glass. His fingers are long and elegant.

“I would very much like to. Figure it out, I mean.”

She’s made up her mind, and she doesn’t want to wait anymore. Iwyn is out of her comfort zone, but there is something about Solas that draws her to him. She needs to know if he feels the same, and she’s no reason to hide her intentions.

“Sweet talker.”

“Iwyn, I…” He pauses, and looks serious. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Solas,” she says, as she reaches across the table and places her hand on top of his. “I know a hotel, nearby.”

“Yes,” he replies, to the question she didn’t ask.

They pay for their drinks and slip out into the cool night. It has rained while they were at the bar, the wet sidewalk reflecting the lights from the street. Boldly, Iwyn pulls Solas close and kisses him, soft and quick. He freezes, and she’s about to apologize when he pulls her close again and kisses her back. This time there is nothing soft or gentle about it.

“We should probably find that hotel,” she mumbles when they pull apart. As much as she wants to keep him close, she also wants him naked. Solas seems to agree, nodding and taking her hand. It’s only two blocks to the hotel, and they manage without too many stops for kisses. The entrance is well lit, gold handles in the glass doors.

She hesitates in the lobby, but only briefly. She is certain. Solas hand is at the small of her back, as if it belongs there. As if they’d checked into a hotel together a million times before.

“Can I help you?”

The human behind the counter looks very bored. It’s quite late, and the lobby is empty.

“We need a room for a night. We don’t have a reservation.”

Solas is close and she draws on the confidence in his presence. He wants to be here. She wants to be here. What they’re doing is no one else’s business.

“Sure.” The girl taps on her computer. “Nightly rate 399. Credit card and Id, please?”

“Let me,” Solas says smoothly, and she supposes he right. It’s not that she can’t pay, but it’s better it’s not her name. Some part of her doesn’t care, craves the danger of it. But she’s not quite ready to self-destruct her life.

Solas hands over his cards, and the girl dutifully enters his information into her system. She hands them two keycards. She looks too tired and underpaid to ask about their lack of luggage.

“Room 906, elevators are down and on your right. Checkout is at 11am tomorrow.”

Solas thanks her, hands Iwyn one card, and starts down the hallway. Iwyn grabs his hand.

“One moment.”

She heads to the hotel convenience store, determined and casual all at once. She looks at the little stand of toiletries – deodorants, cotton buds, razors.

“Do you have any condoms?”

The dwarf behind counter grunts, and pulls out a silver cardboard box from a cabinet behind the counter.

“19.99.”

She hands him her credit card, and puts the box in the purse when the transaction is complete. The dwarf grunts again, and fiddles with his phone.

Iwyn hurries after Solas, and puts her hand in his when she catches up.

They slip inside the room, and the door closes with a soft thud behind them. Iwyn pushes him against the wall, and catches his lips in an eager kiss. He slips his hand through the tall slit in her dress, caressing her skin, like he’d been wanting to all night. He kisses her neck, she gasps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. He pulls back and really looks at her. A thought occurs to him. “Does your husband know you’re here?”

He isn’t really certain why a beautiful woman wants with him, and her husband is certainly handsome enough. If he’s part of someone’s kink he’d like to know.

“No. Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head.

“Good.”

Iwyn walks to the bed, and drops her dress on the floor. It pools around her feet, leaving her nude except her lace panties and tall heels. She twists off her diamond ring and drops it on the bedside table.

“He won’t know anything,” she states.

She is breathtaking. He tentatively touches her arm, her shoulder. Runs his fingers across her collar bone, and down her chest. She gasps when he cups her breast briefly, before skimming over her ribs, resting his hand on her hip. He follows with kisses, all the way down the body until he kneels before her. He frees her legs from the dress, folds it, and toss it on a chair.

“If he did know – your husband – would you be in danger?”

She laughs at this, and cuts herself off. She looks at him earnestly.

“Thank you, Solas, for asking. I wouldn’t be. He would be severely disappointed, I suppose. Just like he severely disappoints me.”

He kisses her knee.

“I will endeavor not to, in that case.”

“Very good.”

The way her voice drops when she praises him sends a bolt of arousal straight to his dick. So does the fact that she’s here, with him, while her husband has gone home alone.

He runs his hands up her legs, and kisses her lace covered sex. She gasps, a low involuntary sound, completely lovely.

“Sit down, please?”

She does, sitting herself on the bed behind her. Before he can lean in closer, she lifts one foot, pressing her heel against his chest.

“You’re overdressed, Solas.”

“Of course.”

He takes off his jacket, and unbuttons his shirt. Iwyn crosses her legs, and follows every move with hooded eyes. He hopes he measures up. With his chest bared he leans over her and kisses her, deep and hungry.

“Everything, Solas,” she says.

He complies, taking off his shoes and dresspants and socks and boxers. There’s no elegant way to go about it, but Iwyn is just sitting on the bed, leaning back on her elbows with a small smile on her face. She smiles wider when he’s finally naked, and he’d happily suffer a little awkwardness to put such a smile on face.

Iwyn uncrosses her legs.

“Now where were you?”

Solas slides down in front of her. “Right here, I believe.” He slides his hands up her calves, past her knees. She yields to his gentle pressure, and lets her legs fall open. He kisses the inside of her thigh, and again, his lips caressing her silken skin all the way up to her lace clad mound. He kisses the lace, and she moans deliciously when he breathes hot air against her. He draws his head back to look at her, glorious above him, and caresses her with his fingers. He slips two inside her panties, touching her slick heat. Iwyn bucks against him, his other hand firmly holding her left leg.

“More,” she growls, and he draws her panties aside, leaving her clit exposed, pink and swollen. He teases it, and rubs against the sides of it, and then he presses down on it.

“Like this? Softer? Harder?”

“Harder, softer. Alternate.”

He smiles, and does as she asks, causing her to gasp and writhe. She is alluring, her half-covered sex arousing, her wet cunt inviting. He wants to taste her, to make her scream. He keeps working his fingers, and kisses the inside of her thigh. When he reaches the top, he licks up her cunt, reveling in her taste. She moans, a deep throaty sound and he groans too. He looks up at her, her shiny red lips parted, her cheeks flushed with desire.

“More?” he asks.

“Yes, please. Now.”

“I think I’ll get rid of these first.”. He smirks at her, moving his hands across her panties. They’re pretty, but in the way. He pulls the fabric a little up, making the lace rub against her clit, and then down. She lifts her hips easily, allowing him to slide them all the way down her legs. He carefully pulls the panties over the heels of her shoes, leaving them on her feet.

He doesn’t tease this time, no matter how inviting the soft skin of thighs is, but sits right up between her legs and spreads his palms over her hips. Her legs part wide for him, and he lowers his mouth to taste her again. He licks and sucks her sensitive folds and her swollen clit. He’s rewarded with a low moan, her head thrown back. He adds his hand, his fingers teasing her opening. Iwyn takes the opportunity to throw her leg over his shoulder. She’s wet and soft, clenching around his fingers, her juices coating his chin. Her heel digs into his back, pressing him closer to her, a beautiful counterpoint to her sweet taste.

She is all his, right here, even if it isn’t so outside this room. Not that she belongs to anyone but herself, not truly.

Solas keeps working his fingers, his tongue until she shudders around him, moaning and trashing against him. He lets her come down carefully, gently easing her out of her climax. Her leg slips to the floor and she relaxes into the bed.

“That was – very good.”

“Yes?”

“You did good,” she says again, firmer this time. His already hard cock jumps at it. He wants her and he wants her approval more. He wants to be good enough for her. He’s here with her, and her husband isn’t. He’s the one who slides his hands all the way down her legs, and gently takes off her shoes, kissing her ankles. He’s the one who crawls into bed after her when she swings legs up to stretch out on it.

He’s the one who asks her, “what can I do next?”

“Touch me,” she says. “Like you care.”

Solas is suddenly furiously angry, overcome with a need to punch Iwyn’s husband in the face the next time he meets him. He won’t, of course, and refocuses his attention on Iwyn. He just met her tonight, but he does care. He wants to touch her, to please her, right here in this downtown hotel. He also wants to talk art with her again, to get to know her better. He shoves that thought to the back of his brain. Being the one the satisfy her will have to be enough.

“I do care, Iwyn.”

She looks stunned at his earnestness, perhaps like she regrets her vulnerability. He patiently lets his fingers wander up her torso, feather-light. Iwyn recovers and smirks.

“Get on with it, then.”

He does, his hands wandering across her chest, teasing her nipples as he dips his head to kiss her. He learns what makes her moan, what makes her arch her back. Her hands are not idle either, sliding up his body, digging into his shoulders. He groans when she traces one finger up his cock, and wraps her whole hand around it. She pumps it slowly and all thoughts flee his mind, his hands randomly touching her, needing to feel her skin beneath his hands in any way he can. Iwyn sits half up, and kisses him.

“Lay back, Solas,” she says, extracting herself from under him.

He does, laying back and lets her continue to do as she pleases. Her hand is back on his cock as she grins, her other hand holding him firmly down when his hips jerk. He’s so hard it aches, and he almost can’t hold it together when moves faster, twisting her hand a little.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Please, please, Iwyn.” He’s ready to beg for anything, has been since he first laid his eyes on her.

She lets go of him, and finds the packet of condoms, opening one. Her nails are expertly manicured, a deep green color. The diamond bracelet glints against her wrist. She rolls the condom over his cock.

Seated above him, she drags her nails across his chest, her cunt hovering out of reach. He wants. He needs, he needs her now.

“Please,” he says again. “I need – “

She lowers herself on him, heat surrounding him, perfect and far too slow. When he moves, thrusting his hips up impatiently, she puts a hand on his chest.

“Stay still.”

Her eyes are burning, and it’s not a question. A demand. A test. He complies and grows impossible harder. Iwyn moves with agonizing slowness. His hands find their way to her waist, supporting, but not changing her pace, letting her stay in control. They’re both panting, eyes caught in each other.

Finally, Iwyn moves faster, leaning more on her weight on his chest as she collapses a little forward. He grips her hips tighter, and she nods. Now he moves with her, into her. It’s tight and hot and wonderful, and he moans her name as he throws his head back. Iwyn brings her own hand between her legs, and they both move faster, erratically. She trembles above him, glorious and beautiful, and his own orgasm takes him by surprise, intensity coursing through him.

Iwyn collapses fully on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. She sighs and kiss his neck, as she slides off him, then tucks herself into him. Solas deals with the condom, and lets himself enjoy her warmth next to him.

"I don't normally do this," she says.

"Neither do I."

"Fucking a married woman, or engaging in one-night stands in general?"

Both. Either. He just nods, and kisses her brow. She idly caresses his shoulder. It feels far too comfortable.

“I’m glad I did,” she says.

“As I am I.”

They lay intwined, and he holds her. A minute. An hour. A moment. Long enough to pretend this belongs to him.

She slips away well before dawn. Home, he supposes, to her husband, or an empty bed he has left. Back to her real life.

She kisses his cheek.

"Thanks, Solas. I had a good time."

He squeezes her hand.

"Me too," he says, and he smiles, as wide and genuine as he can.