#solas smut saturday

[broodwolf221]

The Wolf, Used

The Dread Wolf, wandering Arlathan, catches the All-Father's eye.

[espressocomfort]

Hello, have you too been thinking there isn't enough BG3/DA crossover fic?

Well, I bring good tidings! May I interest you in some humble Gale/Solas nerdery, shenanigans, and eventual *whispers* salacious smut?

Driftwood — Chapter 1: The Tempest

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Baldur's Gate (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition

Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate) & Solas (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age) / Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Additional Tags: The Fade (Dragon Age), Crossover, Fade Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Fade Nerds (Dragon Age), just let me put my videogame boys together, Fadeweave

Words: 3,699

Chapters: 1/6

Summary: That night, Gale finds it hard to fall asleep in the darkness of their plush rooms at the Elfsong. He definitely doesn’t imagine Solas’ hands gently cradling his face, his thumb pressing on Gale’s lip as if asking for entry. Nor his purple eyes resting on Gale, looking at him like a lanceboard problem to be solved. And, least of all, really not at all, does he think about how Solas had mumbled the word Impressive looking not at his spellwork, but right at him.

Gale starts dreaming in the Fade shortly before the events of BG3, and continues over the three months of the whole Netherbrain business. In the strange dream landscape, he runs into none other than Solas, the Dread Wolf, who post-Inquisition walks the Fade.

Spoilers for most of Baldur's Gate 3 and Dragon Age Inquisition, some light Tevinter Nights ones as well as Veilguard speculations. Updates Saturdays.

[dysaesthetic]

Lavellan: ... But I am scared our days are numbered.

Solas: (laughing) How long would you give us?

Lavellan: I am not sure. 50 days? Or nights, depending on how you count.

[...]

Solas: 50 Fades then?

(Faded Souls / Fifty Fades of Solas Chapter 5)

[markedbysolas]

Faded Desires

Solas Smut Saturday offering: special thank yous to @emilyalicesroom and @ideolatry  

Ship: Solas/Lavellan, add some Cullen for spice

Rating: Explicit

Summary:  Solas finds himself in an interesting situation when he stumbles into Inquisitor Lavellan’s fantasy.

Read other things I write here and if you want to see more about this specifically, let me know cause there could be more for this story.

He had never intentionally invaded her privacy before, but their closeness was something he found himself seeking out in the fade. He felt it like an unquenchable thirst, willing him to find her. Once or twice he had steered his way towards one of her dreams, always in a disguised form and never lingering. Often it would be a simple glimpse in on her when they were parted for long stretches of time or if she were away from Skyhold without him.

Generally it was innocent and disjointed, as dreams often are. She would shift her mind rapidly between the past and present to imagine a future or a world she could create through thought alone. She would walk with her family, or tend to her daily work; she would laugh with her friends. Things she lived, she dreamed. Occasionally there were nightmares, brought on by the trauma she had suffered. By his own doing, he would always remind himself. He tried to call calming spirits to surround her before he departed again. Her nightmares had been more intense since she recovered her stolen memories, and he told himself it was another reason to search for her, in case he could offer some relief.

They had shared a kiss in the fade, but they had become friends as well. He knew she wouldn’t wait for him forever, despite what she said about taking all the time he needed. She was beautiful and fierce and many desired her as well. She was far from naive about the power she held over others, and not just as the Inquisitor. Her charisma drew people to her, as was obvious by her growing band of followers, but also by the stares that often followed her. Should she wish it, she could have many suitors vying for her company, and as he found his way to her now, he discovered she did.

The Commander, bare chested, clad in only his cloak and gloves stood locked in her embrace. She ruffled the mantle of feathers around him and teased his mouth with her own. Shaken by this sight, slipping from his careful concealment, Solas was now fully visible to the Inquisitor and her dreamy lover. Momentarily he considered the possibility they had found each other this way and he had truly misread things between them. He pushed the thought away, doubtful either had the skill to move about the Fade as he did. A new fear pulled at him; perhaps a desire demon was using the former templar’s form against his friend.

“Solas,” Her voice was clear and soft as she smiled at him. “we’ve been waiting for you.” She wore only a thin shift, likely something she purchased in Val Royeaux. It draped over her, exposing her toned arms and accentuated the delicate curves of her body.

She may wake and not remember my presence at all, he thought, desperate for a way to avoid her, knowing he intruded on such an intimate part of her life. He turned to bring the camouflage over himself again and slip away, begging her silently to forget upon waking that he had made an appearance. Her hand circled around his wrist as he fled, pulling him back to her, pressing her lips to his.

She tasted of honey and lavender, her tongue darting into his mouth, coaxing him to return her hunger. They had shared something similar in the Fade once, but this was more primal. He feared she would sense his reservations and know him to be present in her fantasy rather than a figment of it. His own desire haunted him, and he found it too easy to surrender to her here. It had been so very long since someone touched him, even longer since it had been with such loving hands. Everything was easier here, in this realm in which he had dwelled so long.

Grabbing her waist with a forcefulness he would never have allowed himself in the waking world, he pressed himself against her and kissed her feverishly. The sounds of her breathing and moaning mixed with the softness of her lips made it difficult to contain himself. Even more so when she ran her hand down his hip and onto his thigh.

Solas’s desk materialized from her thoughts to rest to his left. The gloved hand of the Commander settled onto her hips from behind and the other swept the hair from her neck. Solas was now eye to eye with the man, the Inquisitor between them, writhing her body against them both. Cullen was not real, of course, and it was clear to him now that she was not the victim of a demon of lust, but simply a vivid dreamer. Somehow that made it worse, knowing that she had intended all of this for Cullen. Ashling moaned as the man kissed her neck, leaving a trail of red where his stubble rubbed against her skin. His gloves were suddenly missing, as his bare hands moved to cup her ass. Her head rolled backwards, thrusting her hips into Solas, causing his breath to catch and his body to respond, despite his hesitation.

He hadn’t meant to indulge himself but he couldn’t help but welcome the feelings she stirred in him. Her hand reached for his hardness, cupping him through the thin fabric he wore. As her tongue played across his lips he shuddered in response.

“Good,” she cooed, lowering herself between the two men, “Very good.”

There was something greedy in her smile as she loosened his lacings and slid his length free of his clothing. He almost stopped her, almost told her no, we can’t, I can’t, but seeing her and feeling her was too real now. He wanted to flee, to wake, but his desire held him steadfast. Getting to her knees, she used her other hand to touch the Commander, already exposed by her imagination.

His mind screamed at him that he should not be here, it was unacceptable for him to have allowed this to go on. But her warm, damp breath on him pushed all reason away as she flicked his head with her tongue. His eyes slammed shut, as he fought with his body to allow him to wake up. She stroked the length of him with her mouth and he surrendered to the sensation, letting out a groan.

He felt a strong hand cup his face as the Inquisitor continued to work him with her mouth, allowing his eyes to flutter open he saw Cullen’s face floating before his.

There was no doubt the commander was a handsome young man. Maybe if he was young again, he would be inclined to see Cullen the way the Inquisitor did. Solas had certainly had his fair share of experiences, but those were different times, and none of those had been with humans. Solas reminded himself this was Ashling’s fantasy and not the motivations of the former Templar at all. In her fantasy, Cullen would be more than willing to engage in anything she found sexually gratifying. This version, her version of Solas would be the same.

It began as a fear of being discovered in her private thoughts, but now he was motivated by something else entirely. He hadn’t brought any of this on. He wasn’t the cause or the seducer in this encounter. In the waking world he might have allowed himself to imagine an intimacy between them, but she was in control here, this was what she wanted. This was what brought her pleasure.

And so he brought the man’s face to his own with a rough jerk of his hand tangling in the golden locks. Ashling gasped with delight at the image he had given her. In the Inquisitor’s imagination Cullen tasted of sweet ale and smelled of leather, not wholly unpleasant, Solas thought, as their tongues met. Ashling replaced her mouth with her hand, her grip tightening slightly with her lust, working him in long slow strokes as she stopped to watch the two men leaning into each other above.

“Oh, yes,” She breathed, imagining herself free of the nightgown she had been wearing when Solas had stumbled into her dream.

He broke the kiss in favour of taking her in form fully. Her breasts were small and perfectly shaped; he couldn’t help imagining how they would fit in his hands.The blush of her nipples was more prominent in their hardened state and he wondered how they would taste on his tongue. Her skin had a soft look about it, despite the muscle he knew was hiding beneath the curves of her hips. She had a series of long jagged scars that raked down her otherwise smooth back and an ass that looked exactly as he had imagined it a thousand times before. He revelled in the memories he had of feeling it under his hands. Her legs were long despite her limited height, and her calves lean. It was her thighs that unexpectedly pleased him most; they held power there and he longed to lose himself between them. Finally, he saw the thatch of dark hair where her legs met and suddenly he was salivating.

Reaching down for her, he guided her by the chin to stand again. She obeyed, releasing them both from her grip.

“You are so beautiful.” He couldn’t help but risk breaking the character she had created for him. She was breathtaking.

“You truly are, my dear.” The imaginary Cullen added, and Solas knew he had succeeded.

Ashling turned her head, leaning her back against the Commander and inviting him in for a kiss. Her arms reached behind her head in a stretch that settled them in a loop around his neck. Solas saw his opportunity then, leaning in to press gentle kisses on to her ribs and trailing them down to her navel. She responded by spreading her legs slightly and moaning into Cullen’s mouth as she deepened their kiss.

Getting to his knees before her, Solas took hold of her thighs in that precious dip where they met her hips. He could see her desire glistening as he wet his lips with anticipation. Ashling’s gasp exploded from her as he ran his tongue slowly along the length of her lips, already so wet with wanting. Cullen’s hands roamed to fondle her breasts and tease her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Solas delved deeper with his tongue, lapping at her, looking to elicit more sounds he had never heard her make before.

The Commander of her imagination worked on her in all the ways he could not, and Solas was pleased to learn how she wanted to be touched. While Cullen’s hands worshipped her breasts and caressed her body, his fictitious mouth teased her neck and ears with nipping teeth and sucking lips. He whispered things to her that Solas was unable to discern, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.

Closing his mouth over the the tiny bud that caused her to buck so delightfully, he sucked, flicking his tongue every few seconds, until she had ahold of his ears and was grinding herself into him. Broken syllables but no words formed from her beautiful mouth as she begged him with her body not to stop. Solas glanced up to watch her through his eyelashes as she watched him work. She bit her lower lip hard as Cullen’s thumbs brushed over her nipples.

The Inquisitor let go of his head suddenly, throwing her arms backward around Cullen’s neck and using her strength to pull her legs up on to Solas’s shoulders. He fought hard to keep his own arousal in check as she shouted his name, her body shuttering in tiny earthquakes.

Catching his breath, suddenly the scene flipped and where his desk had once been beside him it was now a few feet in front of him. The Inquisitor’s hands grabbed at him, forced him towards his chair, his trousers sliding further towards the floor with each shuffling step he took under her guidance. Pressing her palm into his chest he obeyed and sat with a thud behind the desk. Ashling climbed astride him then, gliding herself along the length of him, slick and warm. He struggled to find the power to contain himself, as he was sure her fantasy would not end with him spent before she was completely satisfied.

The imaginary Cullen stood across the desk, slowly touching himself, waiting for her to instruct him. A satisfied grin spread across her face as she basked in the power of the moment.

“I’ve always wanted you to take me on this desk,” she said, leaning in to lick his ear from lobe to tip. “Where everyone can see.” The rotunda came to life around them, the sounds of the library and rookery above.

He couldn’t have waited any longer, even with all the strength he had ever known. Wrapping his arms around her middle tightly, he lifted her from the chair and lay her back on the surface of the desk in front of him. Positioning his cock at her entrance, he pushed into her with a grunt, clapping both palms on to the edge of the desk. He moved uncontrollably, taken completely by the sensation. Her hands covered his, gripping his wrists as she pulled him into her deeper. He stood tall, thrusting again and again as she moaned and whined before him.

The Commander appeared again, leaning over the desk to take her nipple in his mouth, causing her to hiss in pleasure. He traced her breasts with his tongue, stopping to squeeze a nipple between his teeth or to steal a kiss from her panting mouth. Solas could feel himself getting close, watching her body bounce as he drove into her. Reaching out to place a thumb over the bundle of nerves between them, he hoped he could take her over the edge that was rapidly gaining on him.

He knew she was close when he saw the faces appear over the railings and her siren smile spread in appreciation of a fantasy perfectly played out.

Her back arched as she cried out “Solas, I’m yours!”

Cullen disappeared from her side, the rotunda faded, and Solas leaned in to kiss her deeply as he felt her walls tighten around him. He felt his release come and with it an overwhelming swell of emotion. Ashling’s arms circled him, pulling him down to rest his forehead on her breast. She kissed the top of his head and whispered, “Ar lath ma.”

He woke to find tears in his eyes and his sheets wet with his spending.

[hypermuffins]

In the words of my friend, “Do we really need more bootylicious elves in our lives?” Yes. 

[funkypoacher]

Better or Worse

summary: Solas and the Inquisitor finally go further than making-out.

tags: multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, masturbation NSFW

prompt: multiple orgasms

Read it on AO3

They were together now, for better or worse – though each knew it was both and neither.

Better came with the relief of knowing she now had someone to confide in. Pillow-talk consisted of whispered worries, insight sought; questions about this or that, though never without purpose. Her heart lay bare as they bedded down, and, just as the Inquisitor came unburdened from her Inquisitor’s mantle, there was a nakedness to her words that her form could not match.  The honest fears of an honest leader found an ear with him, and Ma’ven thought clearer and acted better for having Solas in her life. His mind was both a resource and a relief.

His body, however, was neither. Night came with chaste kisses, placid smiles, and the man rolling over and going to sleep. A snore here; a hitched breath there, tapering away to a sigh. Worse came with the heat of his body next to hers. Worse came with the night. And the silence.

For Solas it was the same. Because as soon as they lay out, before the blankets were even covering, Ma’ven insisted on pressing in closer. Her hair would be about him, the only thing he could smell was the fresh bathwater on her skin, and, when her form became flush against him, every sexually-frustrated huff or coy sigh rolled through her body and somehow concentrated in her hips and then she wiggled, just slightly, in an act that seemed like innocent dozing. But it was not innocent. Not when Ma’ven insisted on sleeping naked (having affirmed with Solas that it was alright). Not when she pushed back against his budding erection and left him mustering every ounce of strength so as not to react hurriedly, but thoroughly; frenzied, and desperately.

Kissing was one thing. It was a languid thing; something simple as he navigated and negated her fears by easy, soft distraction. Ma’ven hummed while Solas buried into her neck, nipped at her ears, and it had to be enough as their lips met once more because he did not trust himself. Solas had worked hard to cultivate a reserved façade, and it cracked and wrecked when his lips were on hers. He was never so honest as when Ma’ven was in his arms, pulling his silent secrets which came in the form of his candid passion. At least with his tongue laving over hers he could not articulate words enough to form an out-right confession.

But bedding her was different. Would be different. So he kissed her and they lay in their private torment. And it certainly wasn’t better, but the alternative was far worse.

Until it wasn’t.

Her gasps were lilting. With each step closer, Solas wondered what wound she’d suffered to be losing these stifled sounds. He had left her in the morning, but she’d had no duties more dangerous than paperwork, and it was impossible that a paper-cut warranted such distressed gasping. Upon reaching the Inquisitor’s room, he saw that it was the old pain –the one he knew as well as she. And the sight of it hit him straight in the gut.

There was no look of pleasure leaving her lips slack and brow slick, however. Ma’ven sat on her bed, just as frustrated as she would’ve been were she working at treaties instead of her own sex. The woman’s fingers were crammed down her trousers, only the first few buttons having been left loose, and she was rigid and upright. Hair kept falling in her face, and she kept blowing it away as though the whole situation could not have been more annoying. And when she realized Solas was standing there, staring, finally she seemed to concede to the situation in a way that was appropriate: shock.

“Oh, fen— Solas!”

She’d been thinking about him. She’d been thinking about him watching her, with his posture straight and eyes hard, and realizing he was there made Ma’ven’s body warm violently. She wished she was more embarrassed. It would have been easier, because Solas might have left her to it, but no: the desire she’d been wallowing in all morning, and attempting to forget all afternoon, had abated to a constant numbness in her nethers that she now just wanted to get rid of. Empty loneliness had left her unable to climax, however, and now... Solas was watching her. It wasn’t what she’d pictured.

“Was there something you needed?” Ma’ven opted for casual as she canted her head to the side. She sounded calm except for the tremor playing baritone with her accent. Solas’s brow rose while hearing wanting in the waver.

“I expected you sleeping,” he explained, “but thought you might like waking with company.”

Solas’s hands knit together behind his back, and his gait was soft, confident; strutting. Ma’ven watched him practically float towards the bed while she left her hand caught in the cookie jar, as it were. Realizing she was about to be held accountable, she tried to formulate an argument that didn’t leave her appearing like a lust-addled youth, but then Solas sat at her side, hands on his knees, and she knew that look in his eyes: longing restrained by respect, and love dampened by secrets. This wasn’t about her – it was about him, although that was more what she chose read of the situation.

“You were lonely,” Ma’ven realized warmly. She smirked good-naturedly, and thought about brushing over his cheek with her free hand, though she refrained.

Solas nodded. He had no intention in steering their conversation down the bitter road, however, so he smiled small – a wolfish smile. “I was. As were you, it seems.”

Ma’ven shrugged. It called attention to where her hand still was. Extracting her digits with a self-depreciating laugh, she turned to him frankly. “Not lonely so much as enjoying some alone-time. You know I love going to sleep together. Well, I love waking up together, anyways. Going to sleep together is…”

“Precarious?”

It was one of his half-truths, but it sounded like a completed confession. Ma’ven beamed. “I’d like to take that as a compliment.” Then she considered. “Although it really just makes me realize how pathetic my self-control is.”

“You’ve been respectful,” Solas approved. He adding in deep, dark, serious tone, “Somewhat.”

Ma’ven feigned offence. “Hey, I’ve been respectfully refraining from, you know…”– exaggerated hand gestures indicated the situation– “this while you’re sleeping beside me. For, what, a month now? And it’s hard. Because you’re… you know...”

She looked the picture of bashful indiscretion while falling short of admitting he was perfect. The bulk of his shoulders which belonged to a fighter rather than a scholar; his freckle-flushed cheeks that seemed more familiar with smiling, though they insisted on sobriety. Even the lines about his face that became drawn and dark in the sparse light of the rotunda: they highlighted understanding in his eyes, and the years that he carried and she'd yet to hear about. But she loved to listen, and... Perfect – perfect in her eyes.

Solas noted it, the curtailed compliment, but lingered instead on the image she’d suggested: that of Ma’ven, hands entangled and furious, as she worked herself to an end while he slept beside her. The thought stole his breath, and Solas swallowed thickly upon realizing that the room smelled of her arousal.

"You do what must be done," the man prattled distractedly while staring hard at his hands. Harder than necessary – he hoped the metaphorical weight would keep him from looking over to Ma'ven's unbutton trousers. "You do what must be done, in duty or otherwise. If you find relief necessary..."

"Solas." Her voice was flat; hard, even. She knew. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. Or feel pressured into anything. As you say, I've got to do what I've got to do, but I’m not expecting anything more from you. I want you to be comfortable. And happy.”

This earnestness was as seductive as a hand gliding up his thigh and cupping his cock. And his apathetic glance was as much a lie as the rest, for Solas was touched, and, moreover, rocked by the effect her honesty had on him. It was not simply the sincerity its self, but it was also the patience that washed over him like hot breath on his neck, and the adoration that pulled him close and held him from behind. Ma’ven knew nothing of the Wolf. Ma’ven knew only that Solas was hesitant, and she would wait for him to tell her why. And, on top of everything else, she would shoulder the burden of her desires alone because she wanted him to be happy.

Ma’ven sat there prettily, eyes bright with the hearth light, lips curled by familiar affection. Solas watched her, wondered, and plotted. For confession was a two-way street: one could not answer incriminating questions when the other was too busy screaming to ask anything in the first place.

Solas moved in close. Ma’ven took this proximity as a prelude to his lips on hers, but her brow darkened when he merely hovered near her face. He wanted to see just how nervous or grateful she might be; to observe her dark yellow eyes burn to gold with lust or misplaced guilt. Either would be fine. Neither would go ignored. Both would be remedied.

Solas slid a hand down her pants.

Squeaking, Ma’ven jerked her hips forward. Solas didn’t delve in immediately; one hand steadied himself on the bed behind, and the other brushed over below her belly, at her womb, and it made her anxious for just how damned tender it was. His strong fingers fell back and forth like brush strokes over sensitive skin, and Ma’ven worried because this was the softest part of her. He could, if he tried, cradle in his palm the protrusion of her stomach beneath the belly button. She wanted to be perfect for him. She wanted to lay out and be beautiful. She wanted—

“Solas,” she choked as his thumb joined the dance and his eyes held her still. “I don’t… Mmm. I don’t want you to feel like—“

“Yet I do,” he said, lips ghosting over hers. His voice was rich; soothing. “I feel. I feel want; affection. My reserve is not from lack of desire. I will not breach my bounds, Ma’ven. I will go as far as I am comfortable, but trust that I do not feel forced. There is no coercion here.”

She pursed her lips and nodded vigorously. It hadn’t taken much to convince her, but she’d only done what he’d asked: trust.

Solas’s finger inched down over her stomach, the mound of her pelvic bone, and sensed the promising heat at the parting of her lips. Ma’ven might have received the exploratory smoothing of his digit over her clit, but Solas felt the wetness of before when she’d been alone, for her smalls were damp, and how soaking she was now, because as he tried to enter her there was a squelch. He felt he was the luckier.

“Lay back,” Solas requested softly.

Dreamily, Ma’ven rested on the bed (it had never been this soft), and trembled as the man brought his hand out. The remaining buttons on her trousers gave. They were not pulled down, but room was made, and she wasn’t exposed but she felt like she was – and also that she was empty and needing. Solas’s breath was the only sound in the room because Ma’ven had forgotten how to inhale like it was a lost art.

Solas’s hand moved deliberately over her smalls. He teased the length of her clothed core in steady strokes, but he might as well have been rubbing her naked folds. Fussing quietly, Ma’ven gripped the bedsheets beneath. He pressed harder and harder, flicking over her pearl with the back of his forefinger, and it sent echoes that rushed to her legs. She existed only in the repeating, heavy pressure at her cunt, and the light, musical laugh Solas lost at her adorable frustration until— until—

It hadn’t even begun to build, but in a second Ma’ven pressed into the mattress while screaming silently and riding out an intense orgasm. As the room took shape again, some delirious moments later, and her eyesight made sense of things, she snorted at the beatific look on her lover’s face as Solas looked down at her.

“To be fair, I did most of the preliminary work,” Ma’ven smiled deviously. She went to sit up, but Solas’s hand pressed on her chest and kept her down. She gave him a questioning look.

“But I… I’m good,” she insisted, finally realizing a niggling of guilt now that the distraction of her lust was dissipating. Solas tilted his head, and Ma’ven smirked knowingly. “Ah. Recompense?”

Standing, the man went about shimmying off her slacks while she remained where he’d left her, watching.

“You may return the favour easily,” Solas said, standing between her legs still hanging off the bed. “Clamping around my fingers; screaming my name. Boring your heels into my back. I am not done yet.”

Grinning, he took inspiration from her startled, wordless wheeze and went to his knees. The thick scent caught up in her smalls made Solas appreciate every breath taken as he settled on the floor. There was a place for using time as his agent. A tool of provocation; a means to drive her wild and raving. That place was in bed, but instead Solas pulled her closer, so that she had to support her weight with her little feet and he would have better access.

He mouthed a hot breath of air from the back of his throat through the soaked fabric covering her womanhood. Ma’ven squeaked like she had before, and jerked her hips forward like she had before. She tensed for the misstep. Solas growled as she ground into his mouth, but it was out of hunger, and want. Pulling the cloth away in a desperate flurry, Solas stilled as he met with Ma’ven’s naked, flushed petals that shivered with the rest of her while she waited for more.

“Solas,” she choked out, toes curling on the floor at his side. She sounded so far away; so lost to letting him make her feel. So needing, and so his.

The man’s erection was persistent but ignored as he kissed softly along her inner thigh to her swollen lips, swiped once with his tongue, and Solas was surprised by the thick taste. Not by the flavor, but that it tasted at all. It had been so long since he’d been with someone, and everything, all of it, was at once new and familiar. Sweat was beading on Ma’ven’s body in the summer heat. Solas’s knees were getting sore already, but even that pain was recognized and remembered. His back was going to hurt, and his jaw… he couldn’t wait for the raw pain of rough use to agitate even to his teeth. So he started laving heavily, almost violently, along her folds and through them, licking then with just the tip of his tongue at her clit in rapid, unrelenting bursts. And there –perfection– her hands at his crown, scratching and holding.

“Fenedhis, Solas, I—“

Flicking at her pearl with his nose, Solas mouthed sloppily, assaulting her with conflicting stimulation as he buried his tongue as deep as possible while rubbing left to right at her labia with his face. She was tight but giving around his tongue, and he burned in the heat of her while Ma’ven clutched at his head, scrabbled, and then tugged at his ears. He grunted. She pulled again and he moaned. It moved from his mouth and through to her core and she cried and came as Solas spread her legs out further, stretched her out, and she was undone in a sodden, soaking, trembling second that caught him at unawares, though she’d felt it climbing for what had seemed like eternity. She came and she shuttered around his tongue, though Solas swore that next time it would be around a finger or two. One cradled in the damp warmth of her core, the other crushed by the strength of her tight—

“I need… Stop, Solas, please.” Ma’ven couldn’t stand even the softest teases at her folds. They were both numb and crazed by sensation at the same time. Her body buzzed, though that was abating, yet she felt off about this now. It wasn’t the over-stimulation. It was… something. It was feeling everything and not seeing him. Somehow she was lonely, though they’d never been more together.

“Come lay with me,” Ma’ven asked. She struggled to pull herself up onto the bed proper, and noted weightlessness in her legs as Solas walked over, now bare-chested, and joined her.

She smiled to her teeth. ��Ooh,” she purred approvingly. Solas sat against the headboard, and Ma’ven snuggled up to his breast all clouded and confused with freckles. “That’s a nice sight. Almost distracted me from other pointier things.”

He laughed softly, though its lustre didn’t reach his eyes. Still, Solas kissed her hair line and pulled her close. His lips hovered near her forehead for minuets unending.

“We make up a whole outfit,” Ma’ven eventually noted, looking from his naked chest to her naked legs. The man followed her gaze, and brushed a large, elegant hand over her thigh, staring at the skin as though entranced. But he said nothing. Ma’ven frowned.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Solas sighed. However, he took care to make it sound contented. He shrugged; forced the stormy grey of his eyes to a serene, cloudless blue. Ma’ven didn’t buy it. She reached for his confined half-erection, though she did not grip or tug. She merely placed her hand on it. The ebbing hardness struck her as erotic nonetheless and she swallowed a moan. Solas blew through his nose, but did not stop her.

“What should I be asking? Is it about your past, or…?” The woman left his groin alone and dragged her fingers down his chest. The motions were as tentative as her voice. The scrape of her neat, buffed nails was pleasant, though. The trails they left cooled, warmed; carved lines of sensation that lasted. He almost wanted to ask her to drag a little to the left: over his nipple, in a stroke of delicious feeling that would tickle to his—

Solas rested his head back, and stared off into space.

She didn’t know. Maybe one day she would. The longer Solas knew the Inquisitor and loved Ma’ven, the more he wondered what it would be like to tell her all his terrible secrets. But for now it was enough for him to bear it alone.

They could have made love for years. Before the Veil; before what he’d done. And that was really all it was right then.

“I love you,” she called sweetly from far away in the room. Her face was lost to him in the dark

 Why not tell her?

“I saw in the Fade a fragment of time captured specifically for all the lust and frenzy of the moment. Two beings were one; two bodies became unified in their tenderness, and in their touch. Years rolled over them unnoticed. They were ancient elves, immortal, and it was their right to ignore the world and live in each other. Where one took breath, the other exhaled. When one caressed in supple, generous gestures, they felt it just the same for they were the same. They shared everything." He paused. "Eventually they shared a grave.”

Ma’ven cuddled closer. Her arms wrapped around Solas best she could while she kissed his breast soft and often.

“Usually your Fade stories don’t go so maudlin.”

“Maybe you’re not listening.”

Ma’ven laughed and nuzzled into him.

“Hey, I’m a great listener!” Sighing, she pillowed her head on his chest again. Her tone deepened. “Be here. With me. I know the Fade says a lot, but don’t worry about what could have been. We have time. And this is perfect. We don’t need any more. Just this.”

Solas stared down at the face staring up. Her vallaslin branched out under her eyes, and made her face wide and beautiful. Its colour matched her gaze: gold, like honey, though far sweeter than anything that came from flowers.

He’d told her –confessed– and still she was here.

“Perfect,” Solas echoed.

His mouth crashed into hers. He sucked at her bottom lip, licked along it, then returned his tongue to writhing against hers. He swallowed her happy moaning by the mouthful, and sought her womanhood with the hand which was not holding her about the waist. He fingered through soft, velvet folds, and found her hot and

 Still wet.

Solas hissed.

Ma’ven’s head fell back as he stroked over and passed her clit, once, twice, a dozen times before seeking the cradle of her channel. She spread her legs. She fretted. She took two fingers, but huffed at a third.

Peeling away, Solas shuffled down the bed to bury his face in her once more. All the numbed and sleepy nerves fired awake, and Ma’ven couldn’t breathe or stop from jerking her hips with each thrust of the fingers he now introduced passed his lashing tongue. Her cunt hummed, but it wouldn’t hammer along with her heart or Solas’s bucking hand because she couldn’t. It was too much at once; she felt stretched, soaked, but it was just one feeling: one constant, hazy flow through her body that didn’t peak. Her labia, her clit: they felt good, so good under Solas’s ministrations, but good wasn’t good enough. Biting her lips in frustration, Ma’ven frowned and pounded one fist into the bed.

“I can’t, Solas, I—“

Something silver sparked in her vision. Gorgeous warmth washed out from her thighs, began collecting back in her belly, but…

“I can’t.”

Gone.

And then her whole body excited.

A new, slow touch, having slicked in her juices, worked down to her ass and wriggled at the puckered ring. Ma’ven felt herself immediately and greedily take the head of a thumb that worked back and forth, in and out, but only a little, and fuck, fuck, fuck—

Shem curses spilled from her lips in a string of vulgarity that surprised Solas. Ma’ven tensed as the digit worked away, the natural lubricant of her want dwindling and now it burned, raw and full, her plucked entrance wringing pleasure that bore deeper and deeper than she’d known before, to somewhere very black and complete inside her.

Her hands fisted the bed sheets. Solas stilled for a moment, gauging the sudden tautness of her body.

“Ma’ven?”

Breathing hard, she was only waiting for it to begin again.

“Ma’ven, is it better or worse, vhenan?”

The woman bucked her hips and mewled as his thumb, still in her ass, stretched her gloriously. She saw stars. She felt everything.

“It’s better, Solas. It’s… ngh… fenedhis, more, please.”

With that and a smile, Solas sped her towards her end.

One hand whirled her clit. The other traded his thumb for his forefinger, and he curled it once seated inside her ass. The tightness was crushing. It suggested so much gripping sensation that he broke into a sweat. Unconsciously, Solas started rutting into the bed as he finger-fucked her, and, though his erection was now no longer ignorable, he didn’t care and didn’t stop. He wanted to spend with her, or just spend period. He would not until she was crying with her bliss, however, so he quickened the swirling at her pearl because he almost couldn’t wait for her.

Ma’ven was a mess of half-articulated curses, sweat, tears, and wet as she reached the precipice. She felt herself open and force out an orgasm that did not last long, but it was strong and convulsive, and for the first time in a long time it left her legs feeling like jelly. Somewhere Solas was crying too. She hadn’t strength to lift her head, but Ma’ven’s hand found the smooth cap of his crown and she noted him twitching where he lay.

“Ooooh.”

He stayed there quietly, face in the sheets between her legs. Ma’ven eventually sat up, laughed despite herself, and took the tips of his ears in her fingers and rolled them.

“Want me to go get you some clean pants?”

Solas’s voice was muffled by the bed.

“Please.”

Sputtering with giddy, tired, elated joy, the woman sighed.

“Alright. But what are you going to do for me?”

The slant of his brow and the smirk at his lips as he looked up was perfect.

“Fine, fine.” Leaning forward, Ma’ven kissed his forehead and smoothed her palms over his cheeks. “I love you.”

Solas stayed there, heart crushed with feeling, limbs light from exhaustion, until she returned.

[nightwingshero]

WIP Yay Its Saturday!

I was tagged by @gamerpurgatory and @chyrstis! Thank you, dears!!! 

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @simonxriley @xbaebsae @dieguzguz @fadedjacket @playstationmademe @spicevalleys @minilev @chuckhansen @scungilliwoman @amistrio @shellibisshe @smithandrogers @adelaidedrubman @clairercdfields and anyone else who would love to share! 

So, this is part of a prompt I’m working on for Evune and Cullen. 

Tears poured then, a strangled cry the only response she received in turn. That didn’t make her hand any less steady, if anything it made it stronger. In the distance, I could hear Josie and Leliana quietly shoo people away, Cassandra guiding them and directing them away from the scene. It was one of the very things I would ever be thankful for from the Seeker. My tear-streaked face buried in his fur as I clung to him, careful to not get more blood on me. I heard shifting of feet, the clanking of the crossbow as Varric cleared his throat. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, Cupid.” He offered, the nickname giving only a little comfort with his condolences.

“He must have accidently ingested red lyrium during the fight in Haven.” Solas gently chimed in, his soft voice barely carried in the breeze. I clenched my teeth to keep from lashing out, before I could say something I truly regretted out of pain. I didn’t want to look up, not when Cullen’s blade still dripped red. Guilt rolled off him in waves, and I could feel his gaze more than the others. He wanted forgiveness, that I could tell, but there was nothing to forgive. This tragedy had no one to blame.

“It…this was not him.” I croaked, my voice thick with tears and throat sore from the force of the sobs ripping their way to escape. When no one said a word, determination and tenacity burning in my veins, desperation for their agreement, for the validation of it. “He would never hurt me.” I continued vehemently. “My wolf would never betray…” My voice broke, and I trailed off in a choke as Solas and Varric looked down at me with sorrow, Fen’an still in my arms as he lay still. “Fen’an wouldn’t.”

Aaaaand this is a smut piece that I was writing for Solas and Athera because an idea hit me out of nowhere. It be like that sometimes. 

The doors of my balcony remained open, allowing the chilly air to caress against my feverish flesh, and a light whimper escaped my lips. This wasn’t expected. Not in the slightest. I hadn’t felt this way about anyone, no one had caught my attention before. Evune had some fun things with a few elves here and there in our past, while I kept to my daydreams, my drawings, and kept friends with the Halla outside of my studies. No one had dared to make such an impression, to win my attention until he had smiled at me after closing that first rift. After his hand gently grabbed mine—one of the first to ever do so in such a way, my heart had leapt to my throat. It was fear, I said. It was the adrenaline, the chaos, the urgency. Lie after lie, I had convinced myself to write it off. Until he had spoken to me, until he had said what he said when I was trying to learn more of him.

“You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.”

“Indominable focus?”

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be…fascinating.”

Huffing, I kicked the sheets off, freeing a leg and trying to ignore the slick between my thighs as sweat began to stick to my warm skin. I shivered as another cool breeze came through, whispering against my bare back, but it only seemed to encourage the flames in my veins. I almost bit into my pillow as I buried my face to deafen the groan that escaped. The smirk he had thrown me in the Exalted Plains after leaving that blasted shrine, Evune’s endless teasing making my face grow read as the wolf calls sounded. I had clenched my wolf necklace tight that night, praying to Fen’Harel for his forgiveness. Or, at least, I had tried. The distractions Solas provided were all too welcoming, though I fully believed that I was partly to blame. I couldn’t seem to not gravitate towards him and his stories. Instead of whispering apologies to the Dread Wolf, I sat with Solas and heard more tales of the Fade and exchanged light jokes.

[dirthenera]

Solas neck and ear kisses make me weak 💜 Featuring Thenera Lavellan 💜

[espressocomfort]

Chapters: 2/29 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age), Original Characters, Varric Tethras, Josephine Montilyet, Sera (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Racism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Minor Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Background Relationships, Minor Sera/Lavellan, Minor Hawke/Varric, Time Travel, pottery, Viscera, Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant, swearing in elvhen, swearing in Swedish, Older Protagonist

Coiling Time aka. the Thedosian Pottery fic

Summary:

"Just that feeling when you’re about to go but then you’ve forgotten this particular data strand and the continuity just barely lets you pass through deflux... You know, like every molecule in your body is screaming in frustration at you over being reassembled just a little off. Oh fuck,” a wave of nausea and pain passes through me, and I accept a hot metal cup of liquid with shaking hands and a grateful sigh. “Thank you. I really must have miscalced some… something, something bad this time. Was it a timecode thing? Two days, you said?”

The man hums, as if in agreement.

“Well, there goes my plan to document hand-building techniques and drip glazes for a few months in the nineteen-seventies... Oh, this tastes nice and herb-y. Is that mint? And... Fennel seed?”

“Elfroot, mostly,” the man says, and I nod, leaning back.  

Following what appears to be a mishap with her calendarium, time travelling researcher Malika finds herself in Thedas during the Inquisition. Staying undercover proves hard however, despite your training, when you've caught the interest of a certain stoic elven mage... Also, pottery?

Updates Saturdays.

[rileysfs]

Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Female Inquisitor & Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor & Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast/Rylen, Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Dagna/Sera, Anders/Female Hawke, Alistair/Female Amell, Zevran Arainai/Leliana, Past:, Regalyan D'Marcall/Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Amell/Cullen Rutherford, Female Hawke/Cullen Rutherford Characters: Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Female Warden (Dragon Age), Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Female Amell (Dragon Age), Original Female Character(s), Cassandra Pentaghast, Leliana (Dragon Age), Josephine Montilyet, Cullen Rutherford, Varric Tethras, Solas (Dragon Age), Fen'Harel | Solas, Inquisition Soldier(s) (Dragon Age), Sera (Dragon Age), Vivienne (Dragon Age), Harritt (Dragon Age), Dennet (Dragon Age), Dagna (Dragon Age), Blackwall | Thom Rainier, Blackwall (Dragon Age), Gordon Blackwall, Cole (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Bull's Chargers (Dragon Age), Fiona (Dragon Age), Morrigan (Dragon Age), Alistair (Dragon Age), Isabela (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Anders (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Depression, Severe Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Lyrium Withdrawal, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Underage Rape/Non-con, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Angst, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Present Tense, when my mind gives me an idea I just roll with it and see where it goes Series: Part 1 of Mina Lavellan's Inquisition Story Summary:

Mina Lavellan has suffered from severe depression since she was a child. One day, the troubled shapeshifter mage is sent physically into the Fade, only to emerge with a glowing green mark on her hand and accused of genocidal murder. Can Mina overcome the odds and be the hero and leader everyone needs her to be, or will the stress kill her/make her kill herself?

Meanwhile, love is in the air in the Inquisition. Follow several couples, including Mina and Cullen, as their romances bloom into something much more beautiful. With four hopeless romantics in the room (Mina, Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra), teasing and red faces ensue. When more hopeless romantics enter the room (Dorian, Victoria Hawke, Isabela, and even the HoF, Raisa Amell-Theirin, among others), even more teasing and red faces ensue. --------------------------- More information in the first chapter.

If you see this anywhere besides AO3 (or anywhere where the username isn't some form of "RileySFS" (I have a fandom wiki and tumblr account that I will post links of this fic on)), it's stolen.

Updates every Saturday.

[bredden87]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Circle Mage(s), Cullen Rutherford/Female Circle Mage, Cullen Rutherford/Kirkwall Mage Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Rylen (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford, Original Kirkwall Circle Mage, Leliana (Dragon Age), Josephine Montilyet, Female Hawke Additional Tags: Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Psychological Trauma, Mental Instability, Magic-Users, Smut, Scars, physical scars, mental scars, Torture, Nightmares, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Friendship/Love, Travel, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal Summary:

Some people change your life the moment you meet them. Sometimes it takes a while for the connection to take hold. For Cullen Rutherford, life has put him through so many hardships and, with the help of a few friends, he hopes that his life is on track for better/happier things. But when he becomes the sole survivor of an explosion that levels the Temple of Sacred Ashes during the Divine's Conclave, he must use the magic of the Anchor to save to world while trying to balance his addiction, fears, and desires

Just posted Ch 8! I will be posting new chapters every 3rd Saturday! (Finger’s crossed)

[thevikingwoman]

@varriccallsme-foxlette replied to your post : Solas Smut Saturday

Of course!! I didn’t mean as a replacement to DWC, I really was only referring to this one weekend. But thank you for tolerating our continued nonsense!! <3

Of course <3 as I said, more writing is better!

that said, for anyone who want to make their DWC a smutty one, you can always pick a smutty prompt list :P 

[dirthenera]

Is it Solas Smut Saturday???? Full spicy version here.

Thenera x Solas speedpaint 👀

[adjectivebear]

... Solas Smut Saturday is A Thing around here????? :O

Haha, it was for a bit. I'm not sure if it still is.

[markedbysolas]

So I've been seeing that prior to my joining this fandom there was such a thing as Solas Smut Saturday...

Why is this no longer a thing I see? What do we have to do to bring this back?

[espressocomfort]

Chapters: 15/29 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age), Original Characters, Varric Tethras, Josephine Montilyet, Sera (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus Additional Tags: Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Racism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Minor Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Background Relationships, Minor Sera/Lavellan, Minor Hawke/Varric, Time Travel, pottery, Viscera, Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant, swearing in elvhen, swearing in Swedish, Older Protagonist, Minor Character Death Summary:

Coiling Time aka. the Thedosian Pottery fic

"Just that feeling when you’re about to go but then you’ve forgotten this particular data strand and the continuity just barely lets you pass through deflux... You know, like every molecule in your body is screaming in frustration at you over being reassembled just a little off. Oh fuck,” a wave of nausea and pain passes through me, and I accept a hot metal cup of liquid with shaking hands and a grateful sigh. “Thank you. I really must have miscalced some… something, something bad this time. Was it a timecode thing? Two days, you said?”

The man hums, as if in agreement.

“Well, there goes my plan to document hand-building techniques and drip glazes for a few months in the nineteen-seventies... Oh, this tastes nice and herb-y. Is that mint? And... Fennel seed?”

“Elfroot, mostly,” the man says, and I nod, leaning back.  

Following what appears to be a mishap with her calendarium, time travelling 22nd century researcher Malika finds herself in Thedas during the Inquisition. Staying undercover proves hard however, despite your training, when you've caught the interest of a certain stoic elven mage... Also, pottery? Updates Saturdays.