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Ashanna Lavellan had only really noticed it in passing before, a wayward thought when she first caught sight of him in Haven, not long after they closed the rift at the temple of sacred ashes. Clad only in his simple woolen tunic and leggings, he seemed oblivious to the cold mountain air and winds as he stood barefoot on the snow, contemplating her approach. Her eyes took in his broad shoulders and tall form, forcing her to crane her neck when talking almost as much as she would with a human. And yet even still he maintained the willowy grace that was natural with elves; perhaps moreso than many of the more delicately framed elvhen men she'd grown up with. She was surprised to find her eyes lingering more than they should and when his own eyes caught her staring she'd turn away red-faced like a silly child.
Being prepared from childhood to be First made it difficult to ignore him and the knowledge he held; she told herself it was duty only that led her to his small dwelling in Haven, warming her feet by the fire and listening to his stories of what he knew of the people for hours. Fantastical places she could scarcely imagine, old magics long lost to her people as he told of things witnessed in the fade that seemed as real as if he'd been there in the flesh. It was a great distraction to her own distressing lack of memories leading up to her escape from the breach.
She learned more in these talks over the next few days than the entire oral history that had been passed down as tradition, a fact that unnerved her deeply as she felt further and further from her clan with each passing day. Yet it did not stop her from finding his company after long days of planning in the war rooms. She told herself it was simply because she missed being around her own people and was unused to dealing with humans in their enclosed buildings.
“Ma serannas, hahren,” she would say as she would stand after many hours of talk, rolling her feet to work the circulation back through them.
“Of course, Da’len. Thank you for listening." He would nod at her with that detached politeness, then turn back to some tome or notes he had scattered on the desk.
And so this continued for some time, their interactions always exciting and enlightening. A good First was always respectful of their elders, even if he hardly acted like any of the elders she’d known. He spoke of her actions and decisions with praise and reverence, in a way that made her cheeks burn. She did not even remember how the conversation turned to it, but she remembered clearly the heat she felt on her face when he spoke of her will being dominated. The images her mind conjured, of his larger form pinning her against some hard surface made her stumble over her response, a snort combined with a foolish giggle that made her sound girlish. Awkwardly, she stood up, shaking the feeling back into her feet.
“My apologies hahren, I’ve kept you too late.” She could feel his eyes on her even as she left, the amused turn of his smile at her forced words.
Smooth, Ashanna. Maybe Varric was right to call her too serious for her own good.
***
She didn’t think much of it again until many weeks later, when they were traveling the Hinterlands and making their way to Redcliffe. Reports of a rift appearing at the lake had demanded their attention, and after the bloody battle that ensued, it seemed only natural to wash the blood and demon ichor in the lake.
That rather sounded like the set up to some of the tawdry romances that Varric penned, though in actuality it was her and her alone that let her thoughts travel to where they did; anyone else would have been hard pressed to imagine the situation as erotic when Sera performed an acrobatic jump into the water, fully clothed, directing the resulting splash to a perfectly immaculate Vivienne who had not an inch of demon gunk on her. A barrier arose and deflected the water, which prompted a flurry of shem curse words Ashanna had never heard before.
“You mages and your magic! Cheaters, the lot of you!” Sera complained, bending over and flipping her skirts to give them both of them a perfect view of her bare ass.
Whatever Vivienne’s scandalized response was was lost as the sight of their hedge mage companion on the opposite side of the lake, Solas separating himself to give the women a modicum of privacy by increasing the distance between them. Her eyes were riveted, guilty in their indulgence as she watched him loosen the belts around his waist and pull the cream tunic over his head. His back was turned to them, giving her far too much of an opening to just stare without fear of being seen for once.
Ashanna swallowed, her mouth gone dry, and she quickly bent down to the edge of the waters, making a show of pretending to clean the blood from her boots. She was too far away to see all the details, but what she could see was the clear line of muscles in his back flexing as he shrugged off the tunic, bending in the knee deep water to wash the stains from the cloth. Her eyes followed the line of his back all the way down until it disappeared under those tight leggings, the water making them cling to his long legs, strong and lean despite his claims that he spent much of his time asleep.
Creators, he was beautiful. For all his scholarly affectations, he had a raw power to him that thrilled a part of her she didn't know she had.
“My dear, if you polish that boot any more in that one spot you'll wear a hole right through the leather.”
An elvish curse escaped her lips at the sound of another person, one that would have surely earned stern disapproval had her keeper overheard it. The boot in her hand dropped into the lake; forcing her to flail around in the water while she fished for it. Her ears flamed as she guiltily met eyes with Vivenne, who looked at her with an aura of knowing. “I was..just…washing my boots,” she said lamely, averting her eyes in embarrassment. She suddenly felt ten years younger as she withered under the older mage's gaze.
“I highly doubt our scruffy apostate’s backside has any information vital to boot cleaning on it.” Vivienne let out a genuine laugh at the sight of her stricken face. “Relax dear, I won’t tell anyone.” The secret smile she gave her seemed to convey both a little bit of judgement and motherly affection.
“Thanks,” Ashanna whispered, horribly embarrassed. Standing up and pouring the water from her thoroughly soaked boot, she risked a glance back across the lake. His body, turned towards the commotion, his eyes on her, intense and burning and making her chest pound. She imagined his smirk as she turns to hide her red face from view.
***
After that, she thinks of him quite a lot more, but she learns to push it from her mind. She tells herself it was to better protect herself from the temptation of demons, rather than from the worry he might glimpse her hidden thoughts while fade walking. The thought of him fade walking into one of her dreams was both horrifying and thrilling. She tells herself what she feels is simply a girlish crush, and feels confident she keeps it hidden. She has much experience in that, at least.
Besides, there’s so much to do with trying to calm the mage and templar fighting in the Hinterlands. Despite her best efforts, she appears to be growing closer to her companions. Iron Bull takes his duty as her bodyguard seriously, and it's not long after he joins their company that whispers of "knife-ear" stop occurring and several people pour out of the tavern with black eyes and broken bones. Then come stories of her magical childhood with the Dalish, healing the dying with the power of nature while mounted upon a golden Halla. She suspects Varric is the cause of those.
Even Vivienne, with whom she is forever disagreeing with, shows her kindness in unexpected ways; offering her knowledge of circle magic and Orlesian politics, and the two meet for tea every other morning in the chantry. Ashanna is not stupid; she knows Vivienne sees her as young and impressionable and thinks to use her for her own political purposes by getting onto her good side. But there is still something motherly about the woman that reminds Ashanna of her own keeper, so she does not mind their morning tea as she learns more about Shem politics than she ever wanted.
Months pass at a dizzying pace, each day bringing something new and unexpected, whether unwelcome or not. She comes across an unthinkable time travel magic in Redcliffe; something she could not have fathomed before leaving the clan. When her and the Tevinter mage return from a horrifying future something has changed inside her after seeing the sick and corrupted faces of her companions; their willingness to throw their lives down for her, their bodies torn apart by demons.
Her and Dorian do not speak of what they witnessed, but their shared experience connects them in a way she had not expected to with a human. They both understand the stakes, and she has found an unexpected friendship with the man. Some nights he seeks her out when she sits on the edges of the cliffs outside Haven by herself with a bottle of wine, and they drunkenly teach each other swear words in their respective languages.
People have begun calling her “your worship” and she has met people from all races and backgrounds she’d never known of before. She gives less and less thought to the clan during these times; she has begun to wonder if she could ever return. They seem so distant now, fumbling for a past while they ignore the present and do not plan for a future.
She still seeks out Solas, but less frequently as it is difficult for her to put aside the memory of his pained and lyrium corrupted face when she sees him. When they do talk she does not ask many questions about the people anymore. If he notices this he doesn’t not comment on it. Instead they plan, strategize, his counsel becoming as important as that she receives from her advisors. She also asks him of himself; she is hungry for any tidbit she can grasp that would explain this odd elf. He tells her of everything except the last part. Never anything about himself; any attempts to do so are met with evasion and subject changes.
She tries not to pry.
***
He called her “Lethallan” for the first time. Kinsman. As one who claimed he felt no kinship with the Dalish it was…unexpected. She mulled it over in her head, along with the slight hitch in his voice when he said it.
Then there is no time for the foolish, girlish thoughts that start floating through her head again. Haven falls; she is confronted with the face of their enemy, and then she is alone, wandering; crawling through the snow and listening to the howls grow closer as the bitter wind bites her face. Yet as she survived the breach, she found herself still living somehow; humans and elves alike bowing at her feet as she returns to her inner circle.
There is much to occupy her mind after this, even more so after reaching Skyhold and making it a base of their operations. She is different now, after Redcliffe, after Haven…maybe she has no need of those girlish thoughts anymore. She is the inquisitor, not just Ashanna the quiet, sullen first to the Keeper.
***
Then she’s reminded of her lingering obsession quite suddenly one early morning when sprinting down the stairs from the tower after a meeting with her spymaster; she was supposed to meet with Cullen in his office about moving their troops to secure a path through the western approach, but she has lingered too long with an idle conversation with Dorian and was now late. Jumping over the last few steps she rounded the corner of the entryway and found herself hitting a solid wall of elf with enough force to knock her off her feet, scattering jars of paint and brushes in every direction. She braced herself to hit the ground hard, but the impact never came. With animal like reflexes, hands shot out to steady her backwards fall, hands encircling her waist and weight effortlessly. He hadn’t even stumbled when she slammed into him.
“Careful, Lethallan,” His voice was light, teasing almost, but he did not immediately let her go. His face was so close to hers, and for once the calm mask he wore seemed to slip as the moment between them stretched longer than was necessary, his piercing gaze making it hard to breathe.A look that managed to convey both predatory hunger and genuine affection washed over her and she blinked in confusion. He leaned forward, and for an absurd moment she thought he was going to kiss her, until she realized he was allowing her to step back to regain her balance. When she looked up again, the hard glint in his eyes had vanished, replaced instead by a contrite, almost stricken look.
She realized then, in a moment of clarity, that he had wanted to. But had stopped himself. The thought made her grin. For once the balance of power, or push and pull in their relationship, had shifted in her favor. That was…intriguing. It made her bold and brought her next words out of her mouth without thinking.
“I didn’t expect you to literally sweep me off my feet, Solas. I could get used to that.” The words sounded more coquettish than she was normally accustomed to saying, but it was worth it seeing the pink raise at the tips of his ears.
“I…shall bear that in mind.” His voice was hesitant, sweetly so and it thrilled her. She found she very much liked being the one to surprise him.
“See to it you do,” she calls back, stepping over the mess she’d made and heading out the walkway towards her meeting.
***
She kisses him. She has been wanting to for so long but when her lips find his frozen, unyielding she shies away, suddenly unsure of herself and her actions. She was foolish, stupid-
He pulls her back into him, kissing the doubt from her until she melts against him and opens her mouth against his seeking lips. He does not waste the chance to slide his tongue into her and she makes a small sound of contentment that seems to startle him, as he pulls back suddenly. He looks at her face, her pout and shakes his head, leaning forward once more to capture a kiss like he can’t help himself. She can feel his hands trembling at her sides.
She lies in bed for a long while after waking up, thinking about the dream (the kiss) until Cassandra threatens to break down the door trying to rouse her for their morning meeting.
The memory of the kiss lingers for a long time, after discussing the experience and he expressed the need for more time to come to terms with their changing relationship. She gives him the space, understanding the need of it if not his reasons for needing it. Well, as he had said…things were easier for him in the fade. She would have wondered if he was entirely inexperienced in such matters if not for his surprising assertiveness at times.
It is several weeks before he broaches the subject again, on her balcony. A flurry of enigmatic questions, a fleeting moment of emotional distance before he discards it and pulls her back into his arms. A desperate, hungry kiss that leaves her drowning in him.
Ar lath ma vhenan
He walks away from her again, but she feels more hopeful than she has in a long time.
***
They’re at the storm coast. It’s raining, predictably. As if she wasn’t already aware of the constant water falling on their heads, she would be unable to forget the weather because of the constant complaints coming from Dorian. His boots were soaked, his robes ruined and did she know how long it had taken him to get his hair just right this morn? She just grits her teeth and stares at the darkening sky, thinking if they don’t find shelter soon they might become easy prey for roaming darkspawn they’d encountered. She almost wished she had brought Blackwall along for his expertise, but there had been requests by a certain member in her party to include Iron Bull on this excursion.
An hour later, by the beach they found a series of caves that likely been inhabited by smugglers at some point, until the giant spiders moved in. They were easily dispatched, and Iron Bull shouted exuberantly when the last one exploded into goo under his warhammer and showers Dorian's boots, which prompts a heated exchange between them that leaves Ashanna shaking her head.
For now it is some reprieve from the weather, though it’s still cold and biting inside the damp cave. The cave is cavernous; extending well past the makeshift camp that was set up and her and Solas move boulders to close openings that almost certainly lead to the deep roads, just in case.
He’s spreading out his bedroll by the fire, and Lavellan steals a glance, sitting on her haunches while she stacks broken planks of wood together in a pile for the fire. By the time she ignites the fire with a wave of her hand, she notices she can no longer hear her companions bickering. Glancing up, she notices with a start that she and Solas are alone in the cave.
"They left with the pretext of searching to see if the smugglers left behind a pair of dry boots," Solas explained when he saw her look around. "A poor ruse, if they are trying to be discrete."
A loud smack could be heard coming from deeper within the caves, along with a dark chuckle that sounded suspiciously like Iron Bull. Ashanna rolled her eyes at the other elf, but she still couldn't stop the flush that crept up her neck.
"I guess we'll be alone for the night then," She said softly, her voice trailing off when she realized how suggestive her words sounded. They were still in this undefined, semi-relationship state where they had both seemingly declared their affection for one another but had yet to act upon in other than two very, very intense kisses and a lot of lingering looks.
Solas says nothing but something unreadable flickers behind his eyes while he turns his gaze towards her, his expression dark and undefinable as he settles down onto the bedroll. A quiet moment passes while he seemed to wrestle with internal thoughts, the fire casting shadows on his face and highlighting the hard planes of his face. She was going to open her mouth to say something reassuring, but was interrupted by an obscene moan sounding exactly her Tevinter friend echoing through the mouth of the cave. She swear she heard Iron Bull mutter something about "using the gag" before the sound of them stumbling further into the caves faded away.
When she turned her eyes back towards Solas, she saw he had the same bemused grin on his face she did. They both let out a snort of laughter, the odd tension between them broken in an instant. When she was able to calm her giggles, she looked up to see Solas beckoning her, his hand outstretched.
"Sit with me, vhenan," he said, the amusement still glittering in his eyes. The breath whooshed out of her with her next exhale and she nodded, unable to deny his request. His legs part to make room for her, and she settles down as gracefully as possible, back to his chest while his arms wrapped around her waist. Her heart thuds to feel his chin rest at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, feeling his warm breath through her robes. This was more physical contact than they'd ever partaken in and she savored the feel of his larger frame enveloping hers. She relaxes against him, letting his hands rub circles at her sides.
They sat that way for some time, just enjoying each others presence while she sinks further into his warm embrace. She could have fallen asleep that way, until she feels a pair of hot lips on the back of her neck, snapping the tension back into her like a coiled spring. A pleased sound escapes her throat and she shifts in his lap, feeling his hands ceasing their gentle rubbing and instead grip her hips tighter, pulling her closer so she can feel the outline of his body behind her.
"Solas," she whispers hoarsely, arching back when she could feel the press of teeth graze her skin. His breathing now turned ragged, his hands traveling from her waist up her body; brushing over her ribcage, breasts and neck. She couldn’t stop the small sigh of contentment when his hand drags hard over her side and she can feel him stiffen behind her at the sound; as if just realizing the effect he had on her. He grips the side of her neck and turns her head towards him and lightly brushes his lips over hers. The kiss is slow and deliberate, as gentle as the hand clutching the side of her neck. Holding himself back as if he was afraid to break her; as if she was that same, quiet girl he met back in Haven.
She was not.
Twisting in his lap, she turns so they are facing each other and she could see the slight narrow of his eyes that showed his surprise. His mouth opens to say something but she intervenes, rising on her knees (creators, he was so tall) to crush her lips to his. She kisses him hard enough to knock them both back onto the bedroll and she does not hesitate to climb on him, molding her body against his own. To her surprise, he moans in her mouth at the contact which sends a shock of heat to pool in the pit of her belly, his hands moving to wind into the dark strands of her hair. The kiss deepens, her tongue dipping inside his mouth to taste him as he had tasted her that night in the Fade. The air seems to crackle with the charged energy of her want for him, and only the need to breathe drags her lips away from his. His eyes stare, dark and dilated and almost feral. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths.
"Da'len," he whispers like a warning. His hands are trembling again when he braces them on either side of her face.
"Yes, Hahren?" She whispers back, pleased she can speak coherently. She can't hide the want in her voice. "Is this too much?" She turns her head to plant kisses on the inside of his palm.
"Too much? I could never get enough of you, vhenan. And that worries me a great deal" The admission pulls the desire from his face as he considers her, his expression turning closed off, almost sad.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispers back, struck by the sudden change in mood. Was he so certain they would fail in their mission? That she would be killed?
"It is not you that worries me," Solas says in his usual cryptic fashion. Then his expression softens. "Forgive me, vhenan. Perhaps it was an inevitable outcome after you surprised me with that kiss..." His eyes look back into hers, burning.
"You did kiss me back," Ashanna pointed out crossly. "With fade tongue and everything."
"You are...difficult to resist." Now he smirks that charming smile she has grown so fond of. His hands slip from her face to palm the back of her arse, pulling her close enough to feel the evidence of his desire for her.
That is enough for her to ignore his gloomy words for now as they press their mouths back together, each kiss a revelation that sends sparks skittering up her spine. Even atop him, he manages to regain control of the situation, guiding her lips between his as he devours her with teeth and tongue. The pressure of his hands wandering up and down her backside, sliding underneath the fabric of her travel robes makes her acutely aware of the wetness gathering between her thighs. Deft fingers find the buckles of her belts, casting them aside to allow her robes to be drawn over her head. He cannot get it off, trapped underneath her so she lifts herself, straddling him and pulling the tunic off, leaving her clad only in her skintight leather breeches.
She does flush when his gaze flickers to her bare breasts, her small bust not requiring the binding cloth other women use. She has never been more exposed before in her life; her previous couplings were awkward fumblings in the dirt that did not give them the time to disrobe as they hid from the prying eyes of their Keeper. His eyes flick back towards her face and she is surprised to see him blushing, a crooked smile appearing on his face as he looks back up at her.
"You are so lovely, ma’vhenan." And she can hear nothing but reverence and adoration in his voice.
He sits up, keeping her in his lap but bringing his face level with her breasts so he can lean forward and capture a dark nipple in his mouth. She leans back, resting her weight on her hands as she sighs in pleasure at the onslaught of kisses and licks across her breasts. He keeps his hands firmly on her waist while he tugs at one of the peaks with his lips and teeth, turning her contented sighs into broken whimpers and panting with each passing second. Each time he touches her she can feel her insides clench; she is so wet she can feel it soaking through her breeches. His cock is hard and insistent between her legs, even through both of their leggings and she can't stop from grinding her hips against him to increase the wonderful, wonderful friction he's causing.
Solas groans against her chest as she ruts against him and digs his fingers into her hips, dragging her hard and steady over him, kissing a path up her breasts past her collarbone and neck. She is whimpering now, her hips moving of their own accord and she feels her orgasm crest up from the base of her spine, a bolt of white hot pleasure flooding through her veins like fire. She is taken completely by surprise by the intensity, her body shaking and her ears ringing from the roar of the blood pounding in her head.
He is whispering to her in elven, only snippets of words she recognizes as he holds her; hands turning gentle and supportive as he lays her gently on the bedroll. She climbs down from her high and gazes at him, eyes lidded with desire as she works to regain her composure and steady her breathing. She lets her eyes roam over him, pointedly fixating on the tented fabric on the front of his leggings where a spot of her wetness was staining the green fabric. Her eyes dart back up to see his amused smirk at her obviousness and she counters with a devious smile.
“Take your clothes off,” she says, a little too breathlessly. “I would not be the only one in a state of half undress.”
“Is that a command, Inquisitor?” he teases, but he obeys; hands flying to the belts keeping his threadbare robes together. Soon he shrugs off the tattered fabric that appeared to have been mended and re-mended several times over, revealing pale flesh that looks to never have seen the touch of the sun. She swallows, her mouth dry as she allows her eyes roam over his body, for once not bothering to hide her interest and finding a newfound appreciation for his atypical elven build.
Lifting herself up, she closes the distance between them to see him up close, able to see details she had only glimpsed from afar previously. Smooth and hairless like any elf, but those wide shoulders and narrow hips; and the very faint freckles that dotted his skin that were hidden away under those robes at all times. His arms come up to hold her as she traces the lines of his body with her fingers and feels the hidden strength in the muscles underneath his skin. He seems content to let her explore with her hands, and just watches her with a rapt expression.
She touches him because she can, soon replacing her fingers with lips and relishing his content sounds as she peppers his body with kisses anywhere she can reach. His skin is so pale and ghostly she wonders if he spent his whole life sleeping. She'd be inclined to think so if not for him possessing trim, lean build of a man who'd traveled long and hard. Her eyes flicker appreciatively over his form and her thoughts must show clearly on her face.
"You are lusting, da'len," He is looking at her with amusement again, smiling crookedly.
"I don't hear you complaining about the attention, hahren. " Her fingernails rake down the front of his chest.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Solas groaned, arching his back into her. "I do feel quite like a dirty old man when you say it like that."
"But aren't you, though? Seducing someone half your age after all..." She grins when she says it, finding the waistband of his leggings and yanking down over his hips. Any smartass comment he might have had on the tip of his tongue was forgotten as she wraps her hand around him.
“Lethallan,” he hisses, breath hitched between his teeth. She likes watching him lose that reserved calmness very much. Her fingers slide around the length of him, taking in each muscle twitch the action causes. Her hand grips harder, applying pressure as she touches him and she greedily takes in the red flush that spreads down his body. The area between her legs throbs almost painfully now, despite her earlier climax. She leans forward and presses her mouth gently to his cock.
He practically snarls at her; a ragged sound of pure desire coming from somewhere deep in his throat. It sends shivers up and down her spine, and she goes to do it again. She is stopped by Solas' hands on her shoulders.
"Vhenan...Ashanna, please. Any more and you tempt to undo me right here." And if that wasn't tempting enough; the sight of him coming apart in her hands and mouth makes her blush from the tips of her ears to the tops of her shoulders. But another time, perhaps. She aches for him and there was still the ever present possibility of Dorian and Bull arriving back from their tryst early. Perhaps they could take their time to slowly explore each other, next time.
Letting go of his member, she attempts to wriggle out of her breeches without breaking their physical contact. After a moment of fumbling she ends up just getting the fabric tangled in her legs, prompting an inelegant snort of amusement from the other elf. He grabs the ends of the leggings and pulls hard, practically knocking her onto her ass. She swears in elvish as she is nearly toppled over and he grabs her by the leg to steady her.
“I seem to have a habit of knocking you off of your feet.” His chuckle is playful, fingers dancing lightly over the skin on her ankle.
“I could get used to it,” she counters, not bothering to hide her girlish giggle. “Especially with these results.” She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back into her for another one of those drowning kisses. He lowers her onto the bedroll and the feel of him, hard and ready between her legs brings a happy sigh to her lips.
The mood changes into something more desperate then as their bodies press together. The tension between them as he hovers above her is almost a living, palpable thing and she thinks she has never wanted anyone as she has now. He slides into her slowly; even with her wet and slick as she is there is still that delicious burn as he stretches and fills her. His breath heats the side of her neck as he stills once he is fully inside her as he stills completely, body trembling.
“Solas,” she gasps his name. His hands catch hers; entwining their fingers before pulling them above her head, trapping her beneath him as he rolls his hips. Her head thumps back onto the bedroll, surrendering to him and his slow, languid thrusts that sends each nerve ending in her body thrumming from pleasure and anticipation. It aches slightly, but in such a good way she doesn’t even care. He starts out so gentle with her but when she grips him tighter with her thighs and sucks on the hollow of his throat he makes a wild sound that practically echoes in the empty cave.
Her body is pushed up, legs thrown over his shoulders and she can only grip the furs on the bedroll until her knuckles turn white. He fills her deeper at this new angle, hitting a spot that draws a pure, unfiltered moan out of her. Solas draws back for a moment, perhaps concerned he has hurt her but she pulls him back into her, a silent plea for more.
And he does. Stars dance behind her eyes and she can feel electricity-actual electricity-starting to spark from her finger tips, flickering and buzzing against the rocky cave floor. She can feel another climax building in her lower body, heat pulsing in her belly as the sparks shoot out again, stronger and creating scorch marks on the stone. It’s slightly terrifying; she’s never lost control like this. Her eyes must show her fear, she realizes when she feels Solas release his magic as well, his soothing and calming where hers is wild and frenzied. The sparks stutter and flicker out and then one more deep, lingering thrust sends her over the edge.
Her back arches from the climax, her inner clenching drawing a hoarse sound from him as he buries his face into her shoulder and spills inside her. His hips continue moving, slow and shallow until he stills. Their eyes meet, his still clouded over with sated desire but still managing to look at her with an intensity that makes her shiver.
She gives him a shy smile. “That was…” Her voice sounds rough and unsteady, like it hasn’t been used in a hundred years.
“Yes.” Solas says simply to her unspoken question, and leans forward to kiss her deeply.
They give themselves a few more moments to just lie together and breathe before reluctantly parting to hunt down their scattered clothing. She wishes she could bathe herself beforehand; as soon as she shimmies into her small clothes she can feel both their mingled fluids seeping out of her to soak the fabric. She must make a face when she slides them up because Solas chuckles behind her, and of course he’s already completely clothed and looks as unruffled as always.
“Will you join me in the fade tonight, vhenan?” He asks quietly, settled down again into his bedroll.
“As long as I would not be intruding,” she says, touched by his request. They had not met in the fade since that kiss.
“I would welcome your presence. There is much I can show you.” His expression turned roguish. “Things we can…experience together that I would greatly enjoy sharing with you.”
“Then I will see you there,” Ashanna enjoys his indulgent smile. at her. And she cannot deny how intriguing such “experiences” sound. She settles down into her own bedroll, tired and sore but feeling lighter than she’d had since this blighted mark appeared on her hand.