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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Solavellan smut: Command

For @elbenherzart‘s delightful Nare Lavellan and Solas! Inspired by Solas’s canon dialogue if you specialize as a Knight-Enchanter. Also, training-to-sex is a great trope even though I hate writing combat and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

The fic is >11k words, so only a short (and SFW) excerpt here. Read the whole thing on AO3.

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Nare frowned pensively as she made her way to the rotunda. It was going to be tricky to make the hilt for the spirit blade that Commander Helaine would be teaching her to conjure and use. The lazurite wasn’t the problem; she was sure Harritt still had some of the lustrous metal left from the last shipment of resources from the Western Approach. And she had no doubt that Dagna would be able to imbue the metal with the complex enchantment that would allow Nare to conjure a blade from the Fade at will.

The tricky part was the wisp essence. It was the crucial ingredient that would tether the metal to the Fade and allow the spirit blade to appear, but Nare was feeling a little leery about how to get her hands on it. Helaine had said that wisp essence could be carefully extracted from places where demons had died, and at first glance, that sounded simple enough: kill a few demons and collect the lingering essence before it drifted apart. But ever since she had helped Solas to free his spirit friend from that binding circle in the Exalted Plains, Nare had been feeling somewhat… uneasy about all the demons they’d been killing since this whole mess had started. The idea of attacking a spirit — corrupted or no — in order to loot its essence for her own means was making her uncomfortable, truth be told.

And it was this uncomfortable feeling that was driving her to consult Solas on the matter.

She padded into the rotunda, then smiled fondly when she spotted him; he was sitting on the couch with an open book in his lap, and his chin was propped on his fist. If anyone was watching him from the upper levels, they would think he was stroking his chin thoughtfully while reading.

He wasn’t reading, though. He was fast asleep.

Nare chuckled, then settled herself quietly on the couch beside him. The moment she sat down, his head jerked up. “Yes?” he blurted.

She grinned and slid closer to him. “Had a good nap, I trust?”

He blinked hard, then smiled at her. “I did, yes. Thank you.” He leisurely stretched his arms. “How can I help?”

She snuggled happily against his side while he was stretching. “You can start by telling me what you were reading. It might be useful the next time I’m having insomnia.”

Solas closed the book to show her the cover, and she raised her eyebrows. “Is that…. what language is that? Old Tevene?”

“It is, yes,” he said ruefully. “The written form of the language was rife with inconsistent spellings for approximately an age. It makes deciphering the text particularly time-consuming and complex.”

“Hence the mid-morning nap,” Nare said cheekily.

He smirked. “Perhaps I was consulting a spirit about the translation of this text.”

She giggled. “Of course you were. My mistake.”

Solas smiled at her, and Nare admired the contentment in his face before speaking again. “I do need a little help, though. I’ve decided to start some specialized combat training. Josie and Leliana invited a mage warrior to Skyhold to teach me melee-style combat using a blade formed from the Fade, but first I have to—”

“You are learning the dirth’ena enasalin?” Solas interrupted.

Nare blinked. “The — what?” she said blankly.

“The dirth’ena enasalin,” he repeated. “The method of the arcane warriors. Josephine found you a trainer in this method of combat?”

Nare eyed him with growing interest. She had no idea what he was talking about, but his expression was suddenly very alert, and she was eager to know what had him so interested.

“No, it’s — it’s the method of the Knight-Enchanter,” she said. “Leliana said Knight-Enchanters have a long history of defending the Chantry. Vivienne is a Knight-Enchanter, in fact.”

Solas’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I see. And the instructor is a mage trained in a Circle?”

“Yes,” Nare said. “Her name is Helaine — sorry, Commander Helaine.” She grimaced. “She was pretty insistent on being called that.”

Solas nodded thoughtfully and looked away from her, and Nare studied his profile with growing confusion. His expression was quite neutral, but there was a very faint crease between his eyebrows.

“Solas, you mentioned… the term you mentioned,” she said. “The dirth’ena enasalin?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Commander Helaine said the way of the Knight-Enchanter has elven roots,” Nare said. “Is that… do you know something about that?”

He rubbed his chin for a moment before looking at her once more. “If I am not mistaken, the techniques you describe descend from those of ancient elven mages called arcane warriors,” he told her. “The formal name for their techniques was the dirth’ena enasalin: ‘knowledge that led to victory’. Mages who eschewed physical confrontation called it ghilan’him banal’vhen: ‘the path that leads astray’.”

Nare frowned. “‘The path that leads astray’? That seems unkind.”

He smiled faintly. “It is a rivalry akin to that of strategists versus soldiers. Both are necessary and have their place in war, and neither can thrive without the other, whether they are willing to admit it or not.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “So the arcane warriors were like mage soldiers in the days of ancient Elvhenan?”

“They were elite guardsmen,” Solas explained. “Serving as bodyguards or champions for nobles, as I understand. Mages who focused on spirits or the Fade might sneer at their physicality, but never doubted their honour. They were the living embodiment of will made manifest: mind shaping the body into the perfect weapon.”

Nare raised her eyebrows. “That’s… wow.”

Solas tilted his head. “Is this not what Commander Helaine described to you?”

She shook her head. “Not… really. She focused on the method as being inherently tied to command and leadership. The arcane warriors sound like they served a commander, not that they were commanders themselves.”

“Perhaps I have done them a disservice in my description of their role, then,” Solas said softly. “The arcane warriors did far more than serve. But…” He trailed off and looked at his murals again, and Nare waited for him to go on.

He shook his head slightly, then met her eye once more. “I apologize, Nare. I interrupted you before. What were you going to ask?”

“Oh,” she said. “I was going to say that, um, before I start training, I need to collect materials for a special hilt for my spirit blade, but one of the materials I need is wisp essence. Commander Helaine said that it’s usually collected from defeating demons in combat.”

“That is one method, yes,” Solas said.

“I was hoping you could tell me another,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Why?”

“Well, I — I don’t know. It seems… wrong,” Nare said awkwardly. “Demons were spirits once, and collecting their essence for this feels… it would be like collecting blood from a dead enemy to use it in a weapon, wouldn’t it?” She shrugged. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Solas didn’t reply right away. When Nare looked up to meet his gaze, her heart thumped. He was gazing at her in the way he sometimes did, like he was both happy and sad at the same time.

He gently ran a hand over her hair. “It is kind of you to think of this,” he said softly. “And yes, I can show you another method of collecting wisp essence — one premised on cooperation rather than conflict. Would you like me to show you now?”

“Now?” she said in surprise. “You have the time?”

“I do,” Solas said. “I was sleeping prior to this, if you recall.”

Nare grinned. “I thought you were consulting with a spirit for translation assistance.”

Solas chuckled — a rare and precious sound of mirth — then rose from the couch and held out his hand, and Nare happily took his hand as she stood.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To your quarters,” Solas said.

Her belly leapt instinctively at the thought of going to her bedroom with Solas. Naturally, he noticed her reaction. “To sleep, Nare,” he said. “If you are not averse to joining me in the Fade, that is.”

His voice was wry with humour, and Nare valiantly tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “No, of course not,” she said hastily. “I mean — yes, whatever you, er, think.”

He smirked and gently squeezed her hand, then released her hand as they stepped into the Great Hall. She smiled and murmured greetings to the people in the Great Hall, but Solas was quiet as they made their way to her bedroom. When she turned to face him, it was to find him looking a little bit sad.

She stepped closer to him and stroked his arm. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He lifted his eyes to hers. “No, vhenan,” he assured her. “I was simply thinking… I would be interested in watching your training once it commences, if I may.”

She blinked. “You want to watch me learning melee combat?”

“Yes, if you are agreeable,” he said.

Nare shrugged. “All right, if you like. Maybe you can learn it with me,” she added playfully.

He smiled faintly and rubbed his chin, and Nare eyed him with sudden suspicion. He’d known the ancient name for this method, and he was being unusually quiet now…

��Solas,” she said, “do you already know how to fight as a Knight-Enchanter?”

He shot her an apologetic look. “I have… some experience with the method.”

She gaped at him. “Wha—! Why didn’t you say so?”

“I am hardly an expert,” he said quickly. “And it is unlikely that the method I learned in the Fade is… congruent with Commander Helaine’s teachings.”

“Any experience is more than I have!” Nare said excitedly. “If you know the basics at least, maybe you can help me train!”

He continued rubbing his chin, then dropped his hand to his side. “I will consider it. In any case, you will not be able to start until you have your hilt.” He ushered her to the bed.

Nare climbed onto the bed, and when Solas was stretched out against the pillows, she snuggled up against his side. He draped his arm around her and gently twined his fingers in her hair. “I will see you in the Fade, vhenan.”

“All right,” she said. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly to relax into slumber, but she couldn’t quell the excitement in her chest at the idea of Solas training with her. He was so graceful with his staff; imagine how elegant and strong he would look wielding a sword…?

Hush, Nare, she told herself. First things first. First she would have a hilt made for her spirit blade. Then, when she had started some basic training with Commander Helaine, maybe she would see just how familiar Solas was with wielding a sword of his own.

Read the rest on AO3!

#solas #solas smut #solas fic #solavellan #nare lavellan #pikapeppa writes

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pikapeppa · 2 years

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Solavellan smut: Distractions

Solas and @elbenherzart‘s Nare Lavellan are back with another sexy romp! 😂 This time in the modern-day university AU of Inadvisable.

Context for those who haven’t read Inadvisable: Solas and Nare were having an affair while he was her thesis supervisor, but at the time of this fic, he’s not her supervisor anymore and their relationship is no longer a secret. However, the professor kink remains... 😉

Almost 10k words -- read here on AO3 instead.

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Solas couldn’t find the stylus for his digital tablet.

He shifted a pile of papers on his desk, then replaced the pile and peered behind his laptop. He shuffled aimlessly through the other items on his desk — books and open journals and even a paint-smudged rag that either he or Nare had left there at some point — all to no avail: the stylus appeared to be lost.

‘Appeared’ being the operative term, he thought ruefully. Just because he couldn’t see the stylus amidst the habitual disorder of his desk did not mean the stylus wasn’t somewhere here.

An obvious solution would be to actually tidy his desk so he could know for sure whether the stylus was truly missing. He was considering this drastic course of action when his phone vibrated in the pocket of his slacks.

He took out his phone and accepted the call. “Hello.”

“On dhea,” Abelas said. “I hope this is an appropriate time?”

“Of course,” Solas said. “I’m glad you don’t mind that I decided to work from home today.” He tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear and began half-heartedly organizing the papers on his desk into a tidier pile.

“We had no meetings scheduled for today, so it is not a problem,” Abelas said. “The main topic I had hoped to discuss was Merrill’s thesis format.”

“All right,” Solas said. “What is the issue?”

“As you know, she now has the option of submitting either a traditional thesis, or submitting three or more original research articles, published in peer-reviewed journals, where she is the first author,” Abelas said. “Until recently, she was undecided about which option to take.”

“I thought she had decided to submit a traditional thesis after speaking to you,” Solas said.

“She had,” Abelas said. “But I worry now that my advice has been a disservice to her.”

Solas paused in his paper-shuffling. “You are worried about that?”

“Yes,” Abelas said. “I am admittedly fond of the traditional thesis format, as I feel that it pulls together one’s body of work in a cohesive manner. Furthermore, she can use the chapter she has written for our textbook as a backbone for the thesis, so part of her work will be done.”

“Those are sound reasons for the traditional thesis format,” Solas said.

“Yes, they are,” Abelas said. “But is this thinking too old-fashioned?”

Solas smiled and continued organizing his desk. “Have you been speaking to Athera about this?”

“Perhaps,” Abelas said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

Solas was amused, but he kept this to himself. “Simple curiosity,” he said. “In any case, I’d like to know why you’re concerned about the format being old-fashioned.” He gazed balefully at the myriad open journals on his desk, then began marking his place in each journal with sticky notes so he could close and file them away for later.

Then he realized that he hadn’t even looked in the drawers of his desk for the stylus.

Of course, he thought in exasperation, and he began searching through the drawers.

Over the phone, Abelas sighed. “Despite the utility of a traditional thesis for summarizing one’s body of work, the publication method of thesis submission is admittedly more practical. It encourages the student to format and structure their work for publication and to get accustomed to the publication process. The submission of a traditional thesis has less of a practical application in this way.”

“Mm, yes,” Solas said as he rifled through the top drawer. “That’s true. It sounds as though you have talked yourself through the dilemma, then.” He pursed his lips in annoyance, then closed the top drawer and opened the second one.

“It seems so,” Abelas said. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Pardon?” Solas said distractedly. “I — yes, of course I’m listening.”

Abelas tsked, and Solas sighed and sat in his desk chair. “I apologize, Abelas. I don’t mean to be distracted. I think I’ve mislaid my stylus.”

“Your stylus?” Abelas said. “Why do you have a stylus?”

Solas smiled. He knew what Abelas was imagining: the type of stylus that was used in ancient times for etching on wet clay. “It’s a stylus for my digital tablet. I told you that Nare convinced me to try digital forms of sketching and painting?”

“Ah,” Abelas said. “I remember, yes. And Felassan was irritated that you are trying digital art for Nare when he’s been attempting to talk you into it for years.”

Solas chuckled. “Yes, he was irritated, but he quickly forgave me. He’s been sending me brush sets for various art programs since I bought the tablet. Truth be told, I haven’t found the time to try them out, but I don’t have the heart to tell him so.”

“Brush sets?” Abelas said. “What are those?”

“In painting, there are various techniques that you can use to achieve certain effects on your canvas or paper, or whatever medium you happen to be painting upon,” Solas explained. “The brush sets in these digital art programs allow you to replicate those various effects.” He paused with his hand in the drawer, then frowned and rubbed his chin. “I wonder if Fenor stole it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Abelas said.

Solas huffed. “I apologize. I’m thinking about my stylus still. I believe Fenor may have taken it as a toy.”

“An unanticipated burden of owning a cat, I suppose?” Abelas drawled.

“So it seems,” Solas said drolly.

Abelas grunted, and Solas chuckled. “Let’s return to the topic at hand. The reasoning for Merrill’s thesis, then: what side of the argument do you fall on now?”

“It is as you said,” Abelas said. “I believe I just talked myself around with my own reasoning. I will speak with Merrill about it this afternoon.”

“Excellent,” Solas said. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” He rose from his desk chair and wandered around the living room, vaguely scanning the floor around the coffee table and the couch to see if Fenor had batted the stylus onto the floor.

“Yes, actually,” Abelas said. “Although… hm. Perhaps it should wait until tomorrow.”

Solas cocked his head curiously. It was unlike Abelas to sound so uncertain. “Is there a problem?” he said. “We can discuss it now.”

Abelas hesitated for a moment before replying. “I have been working on translating one of my short stories into the common tongue, and I am not convinced that the tone of the piece is carrying over. Athera is usually able to provide sound judgment on this, but she does not feel qualified to do so with this piece.”

“She does not feel qualified?” Solas said in surprise. “Why not?”

“This piece is of a more poetic nature, and Elvhen is not her native language,” he said. “She feels that I should get the opinion of another native Arlathani speaker to ensure that the cadence and subtleties of the piece are properly conveyed, since the poetic structures of our languages are vastly different.”

“Ah, I see,” Solas said. “In that case, I would be happy to provide a native ear.” He settled on the couch with a sigh, resigned to the fact that he likely wouldn’t be finding his stylus today. Perhaps Nare would lend him her tablet to practice on, particularly since she was working with her oils today.

Almost as though she’d heard his thought, Nare emerged from the studio at the other end of the apartment and approached him with a smile.

He smiled back at her. Through the phone, Abelas subtly cleared his throat. “All right, I will begin,” he said. “‘Night had fallen once more. The Herald’s Rest lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts…’”

Solas wasn’t listening. He was distracted by Nare — or rather, by the coveted item she was holding in her hand: his stylus. Where did you find it? he mouthed.

“In Fenor’s basket-bed in the studio,” she said quietly.

Solas huffed in amusement, and Abelas’s voice faltered in his ear. “What’s the matter? Is something amiss with the prose?”

“No,” Solas said with a grimace. “Forgive me, Abelas, but could you start over? I was distracted.”

“Fenor?” Abelas said flatly.

Solas fondly eyed Nare, who was placing the stylus on his desk. “Not quite.”

Abelas harrumphed. “Should we do this at another time? It is not urgent.”

“No,” Solas said, a bit sheepishly. “This is a good time. I’m focused now.”

“All right,” Abelas muttered. He cleared his throat and started again. “‘Night had fallen once more…’”

Solas settled back on the couch to listen. Then Nare came over and sat on the floor between his feet.

He raised his eyebrows quizzically, and she smiled. “Taking a break,” she whispered, and she rested her head against his knee.

A warm protective feeling bloomed to life in his abdomen. His body was attuned now to seeing Nare in such submissive poses, like a conditioned carnal response to the sight of her sitting so sweetly at his feet, even if her intentions were innocent as they were now.

He tenderly traced his fingers along her hairline, then tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. She dreamily closed her eyes, and Solas lightly ran his fingers through her hair as he listened to Abelas’s reading.

“‘Inside the Herald’s Rest, a pair of men huddled together at one corner of the bar,’” Abelas read. “‘They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing this, they added a small sullen silence to the larger hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts: a counterpoint.’”

“I might pause you there,” Solas said. “That last sentence: the phrasing could be adjusted slightly.”

Abelas hummed an acknowledgement. “What about… perhaps ‘fusion’ instead of ‘alloy’. Would that be more fitting?”

“Mm…” Solas idly twisted a lock of Nare’s hair around his fingers as he rolled the words through his mind. “Perhaps. But… no, the original phrasing may have been better. Can you read it again?” He combed Nare’s hair back into place, and she opened her eyes briefly to smile at him before closing them again and nestling her cheek against his thigh.

Abelas obliged Solas’s request. “‘It made an alloy of sorts: a counterpoint.’ And with the new phrasing, it is like this: ‘It made a fusion of sorts: a counterpoint.’ Which is better?”

“Um…” Solas trailed off. Nare was slowly rubbing her cheek against his inner thigh.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and the warm feeling in his abdomen swelled and spread to his groin. Her expression was sweet but coy, and clearly not as innocent as he’d assumed.

Without breaking from his gaze, she shifted her position so she was sitting back on her heels, then nuzzled his inner thigh like a cat, and Solas shifted restlessly on the couch. His cock was growing hard and swelling in his slacks—

“Solas?” Abelas said.

Solas clenched his jaw before replying. “My apologies. It… the, um, the first phrasing.”

“Are you certain?” Abelas said. “I find myself second-guessing the phrasing now, as well.”

“Yes, I’m—” He broke off and cleared his throat. Nare was resting her palm on his thigh now, just casually resting her palm there while she continued to nuzzle his leg, and the stillness of her hand was like an intentional tease.

“Are you all right?” Abelas said.

“Yes,” Solas said, as calmly as he could manage. “I… yes, I’m fine. Perhaps you should keep reading and the flow of the entire piece will become clearer.”

“All right,” Abelas said. “‘The third silence was not an easy thing to notice…’”

Solas hit the ‘mute’ function on his phone, then took hold of Nare’s hand, which was slowly travelling up his thigh toward his groin. “What are you doing?” he said.

She lifted her cheek from his thigh. “I’m helping you relax,” she said.

He gave her a censorious look. “You’re distracting me while I’m working.”

Her eyes went wide — innocently wide. “No I’m not! I’m helping you relax so you can focus better.”

He gazed at her big blue eyes with a combination of amusement and annoyance. She was so obviously trying to provoke him that he would laugh if he weren’t in the middle of a work-related call. “This is your idea of helping me to focus?” he said. “Truly?”

She smiled impishly. Then Abelas’s sharp voice jarred him back to reality. “Solas, are you still there?”

“Yes, I—” Ah, he was still muted. He released Nare’s hand and quickly tapped the ‘mute’ icon. “Yes, I’m here. I apologize. I accidentally hit the mute button.”

“If this is a bad time for you, it can wait until tomorrow,” Abelas said stiffly.

Nare swiftly shuffled closer to him and rubbed her cheek against his inner thigh right beside his groin, and his cock jumped at the closeness of her mouth. “N-no,” he blurted. “That is, er… Abelas, I apologize. I — my mind is admittedly scattered. If—”

His phone vibrated: he was getting another call. He exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, there’s another call incoming. If you can hold on for a moment?”

Abelas grunted his assent, and Solas lowered the phone to check his screen. Then Nare nuzzled his cock through his pants.

A shock of pleasure zipped through his body, and he almost gasped — almost. Instead, entirely by accident, he answered the secondary call on his phone, and realized a split second later that the caller was Felassan.

“Fenedhis,” he hissed, and he lifted the phone to his ear. “Felassan?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Felassan said cheerfully. “Before you die of shock at the fact that I’m calling you instead of texting you, let me assure you that no one has died.”

Nare pressed her lips to the ridge of his cock, and Solas jerked his hips toward her and managed a stilted laugh. “Ha, yes. Actually, I can’t—”

Felassan interrupted him. “This will be quick, I promise. Are you at the office?”

Nare reached up and started unbuttoning his slacks, and Solas gave her a reproving look as he replied. “No, I’m not. I am working from home, and Abelas is on the other line.”

“Excellent,” Felassan said. “I meant to ask him something too. I’ll hang up so you can add me in.”

“No—” It was too late: Felassan had hung up. Nare, meanwhile, was unzipping Solas’s fly, and her expression was so eager that it was making his cock pulse with need.

“Solas, are you there?” Abelas said irritably.

Nare freed his cock from his pants and stroked him. A hot rush of pleasure rose flooded his body and warmed his cheeks, but he heroically forced himself not to react. “Yes,” he said calmly. “But that was Felassan on the other line. He—”

“He wants to join this call, I know,” Abelas said irritably. “I will add him. Just a moment.”

Nare licked her palm and stroked him again, and he flexed instinctively into her hand. “Abelas, wait,” he said breathlessly. “If I can — truly, this isn’t a good time—” He broke off abruptly. Nare was suckling him, and he was forced to press his lips together to stop himself from moaning with pleasure at the hot slick pressure of her mouth.

A second later, Felassan’s cheerful voice was in his ear. “On dhea. So only Abelas is in the office at the moment?”

“Yes, Solas is not here,” Abelas said. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for one of my books,” Felassan said. “I wanted to use one of the images as a reference, but it’s not here. I must have lent it to Solas — I can’t imagine where else it would be. Can you look in his office to see if it’s there?”

Abelas sighed. “Fine. What is the book called?”

“It’s called ‘Tech Noir’,” Felassan said. “It’s an anthology of James Cameron’s work. A big hardcover with a white cover — it should be easy to spot.”

“James Cameron?” Abelas said. “Is he not a film director?”

“Yes, but he’s also an incredible artist,” Felassan said. “Fun fact: before he became famous, he actually used to work as a truck driver…”

Felassan kept talking, but Solas had stopped paying any semblance of attention. He was entirely captivated by Nare, and not just by the torrid pleasure of her lips sliding up and down his cock. She was staring at him as she sucked him, her aquamarine eyes fixed on his face, and the angle of her head and her submissive pose made her look both eager and innocent at the same time. It was like she was waiting for his approval, waiting for him to indicate that she was pleasuring him correctly, and the juxtaposition of her lips on his cock and her big hopeful eyes was making his whole body throb with desire.

His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to panic at receiving a blowjob at such an untimely moment, or perverse excitement for the very same reason. He reached down and smoothed his palm over her hair, and when she moaned softly around his length, his cock twitched in her throat, like the first quake of a climax beginning to build.

“Solas, did you hear me?” Felassan said loudly.

Solas jolted and inhaled sharply through his nose. “What? No,” he said. “I — can you repeat that?”

Abelas grunted. “His attention has been wandering today.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Felassan said. “I can bring you a coffee if you need one.”

“Bring — what?” Solas said in confusion. “Why would you bring—?” He broke off and clenched his jaw: Nare had angled her head to take him deeper, and the pressure of her throat squeezing his cock was almost unbearably good.

He slid his fingers through her hair to cradle her nape and pressed his hips toward her. Felassan, meanwhile, was still speaking. “I was saying that I can come to your place to grab the book if you have it.”

Solas drew a careful silent breath through his lips. “Why would you think I have it here?” he said.

“Because it’s not in your office, as Abelas just said,” Felassan replied. “You really are distracted today, aren’t you?”

Nare lifted her lips from his cock to shoot him a grin — she was obviously hearing the conversation through the phone. Solas shot her a dirty look as he replied. “I am, and I apologize. I’m… not feeling well.”

“Ah,” Abelas said in a softer tone. “You should have said so. You should not be working if you’re unwell.”

“It’s good to hear you saying that,” Felassan remarked. “Athera’s been a good influence on you.”

“I agree, but what makes you say so?” Abelas said.

“Come on, don’t act like you don’t remember that time you insisted on marking essays when you had the flu,” Felassan said. “Actually, maybe you don’t remember. You were pretty feverish at the time. But I’m sure Solas remembers.”

“Yes,” Solas said, “I, er… I remember that, yes.” He swallowed hard: Nare was swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock. She shot him another coy look before taking his length into her mouth again, and his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure.

In a clear counterpoint to the dreamlike pleasure of Nare’s mouth on his cock, Abelas and Felassan continued to bicker in his ear. “That was many years ago,” Abelas said defensively.

“Yes, it was,” Felassan said. “And such is my point. You wouldn’t dare do something so stupid now, or Athera would chain you to the bed to stop you from working.”

“There is no need to be crass,” Abelas scolded.

Felassan laughed. “I’m not being crass! But now I want to know why you think I’m being crass. Is there something you want to tell us about chains and beds?”

“Absolutely not,” Abelas snapped. “That is none of your business!”

“So there is something to tell, but it’s just none of our business?” Felassan said slyly. “That’s interesting.”

Abelas clicked his tongue. “Did you want something else, or will you be leaving this phone call now?”

“I’ll leave you in peace as soon as Solas answers my question,” Felassan said. “Solas?”

“Yes?” Solas gritted.

“Can I come over to get that book or not?”

“Ye— I mean, no,” Solas blurted. “I’m… I told you, I’m unwell.” He squeezed the back of Nare’s neck and pumped his hips toward her, and she began suckling him more quickly — ah, fenedhis, this was perfect, the perfect rhythm and rate of her perfect heated mouth…

“Can you at least check if the book is at your place?” Felassan said. “You know I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t really need it.”

“I can’t look right now,” Solas said sharply. “I’m in the middle of… I’m occupied.” He accidentally drew a sharp breath, unable to help himself: his orgasm was rising in time with the rise and fall of Nare’s lips, the tense coil of pleasure rising perversely and with no regard to the inopportune circumstances of its rise, and Solas was utterly torn between how good it felt and how mortifying it was to be feeling the rise of his own rapture at such a terrible time.

Felassan sighed. “Really? That’s…” He trailed off. A moment later when he spoke again, his voice was curled with humour. “Hang on a second. Is Nare there?”

Nare angled her head to look Solas in the eye. Her expression was blatantly mischievous, and it made something wild and hot burst to life in his chest. He stared intently at her, his eyes boring into hers as she continued to suck his cock, and when her cheeks started turning pink, the hot and feral feeling swelled more strongly in his chest and between his legs.

Felassan started to laugh. “She is there, isn’t she? Tamaris mentioned that she stayed the night at your place.”

Solas couldn’t reply. He couldn’t. His cock was throbbing, the beautiful tension of his climax pushing itself closer to the surface of his skin, and he didn’t dare open his mouth lest the wrong sort of sound emerge.

Abelas’s reply was annoyed. “Why does that matter? Why is this conversation devolving from work-related matters into gossip?”

“Oh, it’s devolving all right,” Felassan snickered. “I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.” He left the call.

Abelas sighed. “Solas, please call me when you’re feeling better.”

“All right,” Solas managed. “I will.” Fenedhis lasa, he was going to come any second now…

“There is no need for thanks,” Abelas said. “Get some rest. Farewell for now.” He hung up, and a split second later, Solas came.

He groaned loudly and dropped the phone on the couch, then fisted his fingers in Nare’s hair and thrust into her mouth. She gripped his thighs and angled her head to take him deep, and Solas fucked her throat with total abandon, gasping and groaning and staring avidly at her rosy lips as his cock slid between them. He fucked her mouth until he was spent, then carefully released her hair and let out a heavy exhale.

Nare lifted her mouth from his cock and dabbed her lips on the back of her hand, then smiled cheekily. “Did that help—”

He sat forward and gripped her chin. “Don’t speak,” he snarled. “Not a word.”

Her spine straightened and her eyes became huge, and Solas studied the signs of her excitement with a vindictive sort of satisfaction. Nare might have made him climax — and an excellent climax it was, too — but her intentions had clearly been to distract and embarrass him while he was on the phone, and such intentions required dire punishment.

He ruthlessly lifted her chin. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you kneeled at my feet just now, didn’t you?”

She swallowed visibly. “I just wanted to help you focus—”

“Do not lie to me, Nare,” he said menacingly. “Were you truly trying to help, or were you hoping to distract me from my work?”

She dragged in a shaky breath, then lowered her eyes. “I was trying to distract you.”

“I know you were,” he said. “Worse yet, you abandoned your own work in the studio to distract me.” He released her chin, then trailed his knuckle along her jawline. “Tell me, does this strike you as the behaviour of a good student?”

She shook her head. “No, professor.”

Professor. As always, just as it had every time she had ever called him by his title, a possessive sort of warmth reared its head in the depths of his gut. He surveyed her in a predatory way, taking in her slightly-parted lips and her big blue eyes and the delicately-pinkened tips of her ears. Then, slowly and carefully, he wrapped his fingers around her throat.

She swallowed nervously, her throat moving sinuously against his palm, and Solas tilted his head. “This kind of impertinent behaviour speaks of a particular virtue that you seem to be lacking. What virtue am I talking about, Nare?”

“U-um…”

He tightened his fingers around her throat. “Tell me.”

“Discipline!” she blurted. “I’m lacking discipline.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Despite the hours we’ve spent working on your discipline, on teaching you patience and focus, I find you here on your knees, stroking and sucking my cock instead of working on your art as you should be.”

She whimpered and stroked his knee. “Solas—”

“Do not touch me again until I instruct you to do so,” he snapped.

She immediately withdrew her hand, and Solas lifted his chin. “Now, I will admit that I appreciated your focus and determination when you were pleasuring me. But I wonder if you’re capable of a similar focus when it comes to tolerating the punishment you deserve.”

“I can,” she said eagerly. “I can take it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “It sounds as though you’re hoping to be punished. Is that the case?”

“No, it’s not that,” she breathed. “It’s — I just want you to teach me how to be a better student with better discipline. If you think I need to be punished, then I’ll — I’ll take the punishment, professor, I promise.”

Her eyes were demurely lowered, and it was amusing. To see her pretending to be obedient and demure when he knew this was a ploy on her part to get the exact kind of punishment she wanted? She truly was a vixen of the worst kind.

He released her throat and rested his elbows on his knees as he surveyed her. “And if your punishment involves being sent back to the studio to continue your painting until I say you’re free to leave? Will you accept that punishment without complaint?”

Her eyes darted up to his face, and he almost smiled at the obvious disappointment in her face. Then she lowered her gaze once more. “Yes, professor. I’ll… I won’t complain.”

He hummed thoughtfully, then reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “All right. I’ve thought of an appropriate punishment. Move the coffee table out of the way.”

“The coffee table?” she said.

“We will need the space,” he said, and he dropped his gaze to the carpet-padded floor.

Her face lit up. She quickly rose to her feet and pushed the coffee table aside to make space on the floor in front of the couch, then turned back to face him. “What should I do now?”

“Take off your clothing.”

She beamed at him and began stripping, and he leaned back on the couch to watch her. She pulled off her paint-spattered shirt and pushed back her long red hair, shooting him an excited smile as she did, then swiftly shoved down her leggings and her panties at the same time, and Solas surveyed her with a cool sort of amusement. Her stripping was too eager to be seductive, and as endearing as her eagerness was, it simply highlighted her need to practice her discipline.

She unhooked her bralette and placed it on the coffee table, then looked at him. “What should I do next?” she said breathlessly.

For a long moment, he didn’t reply: he simply took the time to admire her nude body. The late morning light slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows was like a spotlight painting her skin with a peachy glow. Her nipples were pearling already even though they hadn’t been touched, and the curving lines of her waist and hips were practically begging to be outlined by the touch of his hands.

He stared at her with a shameless mixture of admiration and masculine pride. Nare was perfect in his eyes, just as perfect as she’d always been since the first time she’d laid herself bare right here in his apartment, and Solas was proud that she’d chosen him to be the man she gave herself to. She’d trusted Solas with her body and her difficult sexual history and her heart, trusting him to handle her carefully and to give her the discipline and the tenderness that they both needed so badly. As he admired Nare’s perfect naked form, a familiar and beloved warmth swelled in his chest: a hot feeling of adoration laced with a smug sort of satisfaction that this perfect woman belonged to him.

She shifted restlessly from foot to foot and gave him a pleading look, and Solas gave her a chiding look. “Your impatience does you a disservice, Nare.”

She lowered her eyes. “I know, I’m sorry…”

“Do not apologize,” he said. “Apologies will serve neither of us. Focus instead on fixing your behaviour.”

She nodded meekly. “How should I do that?”

“Kneel for me.”

She immediately lowered herself to her knees and gazed expectantly at him, and he nodded his approval. “Now tie up your hair.”

She scooped her hair back and began tying it into a loose bun, arching her spine as though to show off her body, and Solas admired her breasts and the subtle planes of her belly as she tied up her hair. When her hair was bound, she gave him another bright-eyed look. “What should I do next?”

“Do not speak, and don’t move,” he said. Then he stood up.

She opened her mouth, then immediately closed it, and Solas lifted an eyebrow as he tucked his cock back into his pants. “Did you stop yourself from asking where I am going?”

She nodded, and Solas nodded as well. “That is an excellent start to showing me how disciplined you are.” He fastened his slacks, then reached down and gently cradled her chin.

She swallowed hard but didn’t speak or move, and Solas smiled faintly. “Good girl,” he murmured. Then, as a tiny reward for her stillness, he bent down and kissed her.

Her lips parted instantly, and he took advantage to seal his lips over hers. He kissed her firmly, savouring the softness of her lips and the heat of her mouth as he stroked her tongue with his own, and when she whimpered and began melting toward him, he carefully pulled away from her.

He brushed his thumb over her kiss-plumped lower lip. “I am going to the studio. I will inspect your work thus far,” he told her. “Remember, you are not to move until I return.”

Nare nodded, and Solas released her chin and walked away, marvelling as he did that his cock was growing hard again already despite the delicious-yet-illicit blowjob that Nare had just given him. He was careful not to show his growing eagerness as he walked away, however; he kept his pace casual and relaxed as he made his way to the studio. He had to present himself as a good example of discipline, after all.

He stepped into the studio to inspect her work. She had been working on another hair study to prepare for the portraits of Tamaris she would be painting for her thesis project, and today she was challenging herself to capture the way light interacted with Tamaris’s ebony curls.

Solas was briefly distracted from his desire by his appreciation for how far she’d gotten in a single morning. Considering that she’d only been painting for about two hours, she already had the primary areas of contrast and illumination blocked out, and Solas was quite impressed.

He purposely spent a few long minutes in the studio, straightening the ever-growing pile of his own sketches on the shelf and tidying some of the painting supplies before leaving the room. When he returned to the living room, he was pleased to find Nare still on her knees on the floor.

Her eyes were closed, and her fists were clenched on her knees. When Solas approached, she opened her eyes and looked at him, and his cock swelled in his slacks. Her ears were flushed and her lips were parted with lust, and her eyes — fenedhis, her eyes: they were bright and blazing with need, an unspoken need that she was so carefully keeping to herself, and Solas was visited by the vertiginous feeling that he could happily drown in her oceanic eyes.

Not yet, he reminded himself. He couldn’t give in to his own desire yet. Nare had to be properly punished for her atrocious behaviour. The discipline she’d shown in remaining here on her knees was an excellent start, but it was not enough to make up for how provocative she’d been while he was on the phone.

He sat on the couch in front of her and casually draped one arm along the back of the couch. “You made good progress in your study,” he said. “Are you happy with what you did so far?”

She darted him a cautious look, and he smiled faintly. “You may speak, Nare.”

She smiled and tucked a tendril of hair over her ear. “I’m… well, I know what I’m going to work on next. Now that the main blocks of colour are there, I’ll—”

Solas interrupted her. “I didn’t ask what your next steps will be. I asked whether you’re pleased with your progress.”

She hesitated, and Solas admired her naked and kneeling body while she considered her answer. Finally she replied. “I’m happy that I know what to do next. I feel confident about where the study is going and how to get it there. That makes me happy.”

He gazed at her approvingly. “That is excellent. I’m glad to hear that your confidence is growing.”

She made a little face. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my judgment?”

Her eyes went wide. “Wha— no! No, that’s not what I meant.”

He gave her a chiding look, and she shook her head slightly. “I mean — no, professor, I’m not doubting you. I’m just, um… my confidence might be growing, but it’s, um, slow.”

“I would not expect you to outgrow your doubts overnight,” he said gently. “Progress and confidence come one step at a time, and you are advancing well on both fronts.”

She shot him a tiny smile. “Thank you, professor.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome. And now I believe it’s time that you received your punishment for your… impertinence earlier.”

She wilted slightly. “I thought that waiting here for you was the punishment.”

He raised his eyebrows. She was challenging him now? After that sordid carnal display where she’d nearly made him embarrass himself on the phone with Abelas and Felassan, she was daring to challenge him now?

She could clearly gauge his thoughts from the look on his face: the flush of her cheeks deepened slightly and her spine straightened a little more, and Solas couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or disgruntled by her eagerness. It was a pleasure to see Nare looking so lustful for him, but the forced time-out on her knees clearly hadn’t taught her a lesson, and her punishment was going to have to be strict indeed if he wanted to make her truly obey.

He sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You thought that waiting silently and showing a little patience was punishment? Is that truly what you thought?”

She nibbled her lower lip but didn’t reply, and Solas tilted his head. “Tell me, Nare. Is that what you thought? During all this time that I’ve been teaching you, all this time that I’ve been training your discipline and control, you thought that merely kneeling for your professor was sufficient punishment for acting in such a disgraceful way?”

She dropped his gaze and pressed her lips together hard, and Solas could tell that she was trying not to laugh. When she looked him in the eye once more, though, her expression was appropriately contrite. “No, professor. I’m sorry, you’re right. It wasn’t enough of a punishment.”

“It really wasn’t,” he confirmed. He sat back once more and began rolling up his sleeves.

Her reaction was instantaneous: she sat up straight like a meerkat, her eyes locking onto his forearms as they were revealed by the rolling-back of his sleeves, and something hot and prideful stirred in his chest in response to her avid gaze. He carefully maintained a smooth and stern expression as he rolled up his sleeves, and by the time his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, she was shifting her hips with eagerness, and her face was alight with anticipation.

He settled back on the couch, then met her eye once more. “Come, Nare,” he said, and he patted his thigh.

She swiftly stood upright. Solas’s gaze dropped shamelessly to her sex, and a roar of lust unfurled through his veins. She was wet already, so wet that he could already see the glistening shine of desire painting her pussy — that delicious glistening desire that tasted so raw and sweet…

His mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva. Nare took a step toward him, and he stopped her with a hand on her hip. “A moment,” he said, and he slipped one finger between her legs.

She gasped and grabbed his shoulders, and he breathed slowly to control himself. The feel of her on his fingers, the heat of her, the slickness: he would never get enough of this. Never would there come a time when this would fail to rouse the possessive and protective wildness in his chest — this hot and wild feeling that was compelling him to stroke her folds until she was bucking her hips and mewling his name…

She tightened her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “Solas,” she whimpered.

He withdrew his fingers from her feminine heat and sat back to look her in the eye. “Come now, Nare,” he said calmly. “You know what you must do.” Without breaking from her gaze, he licked her slickness from his fingers, then patted his thigh again.

Her face went tense with desperation, but she didn’t complain; she kneeled on the couch beside him, then stretched out across his lap, and when she was settled, Solas smoothed his palm along the length of her back.

With a slow and hedonistic sort of enjoyment, Solas stroked Nare’s smooth-skinned back. He studied the delicate arches of her shoulder blades and the dip of her spine, and he enjoyed the fact that he could admire her so easily when her hair was tied up. He could admire every inch of her naked skin, from her nape down to the valley of her spine and back up over the divine curves of her bottom — ah, fenedhis, her lush and rounded bottom, bare and raised like it was waiting for his hand…

Lovingly, tenderly, he smoothed his palm over her buttock. Then he spanked her.

She yelped and arched her spine. Solas spanked her again, and she let out another breathless cry. “Please!”

He curled his fingers around her throat. “Do not beg,” he snapped, and he spanked her harder than before.

She let out another mewling cry and dug her fingers into the couch, and the hot and feral feeling in his chest stretched and reared its head. The sharp sound of her cries, these exquisite cries of pleasure and pain: these cries of Nare’s never failed to rile him, to bring the dark and feral side of his desire from dormancy to roaring life, and with every spank he delivered to her bottom, his hungry wolflike side felt like it was pushing its way closer to the surface of his skin.

He smoothed his palm over her spanked buttock and drew a slow breath to calm himself. “Your behaviour was atrocious, Nare,” he said coolly. “Distracting me purposely while I was on a work-related call? That was quite the cunning move.” He punctuated his words with a spank.

“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes, it was — I was really bad.”

“Yes, you were,” he said. Then he lowered his voice. “You purposely made me hard, then sucked my cock while I was trying to focus.”

She dragged in a shaky breath and arched her spine, pushing her bottom up toward his hand. “Yes, I did,” she whined. “That’s what I did, and it was — I was so bad, professor.”

“You were bad, yes,” he said, and he spanked her hard on her other buttock.

She yelped again, spurring that feral heat to swell in his chest and limbs, and Solas tightened his grip on her throat as he caressed her butt. “You were an incredibly disobedient student who purposely tried to provoke me,” he said. “For that reason, you do not have the right to beg.” He bent closer to her ear and spoke in a very low and threatening tone. “You do not have the right to say anything except ‘yes, professor’. Is that understood?”

She whimpered and nodded, and Solas narrowed his eyes. “What was that?” he said, and he spanked her again.

“Yes, professor!” she blurted.

“Excellent,” he said. “Spread your knees.”

She obeyed him and parted her knees on the couch, and Solas spanked her again. He spanked her twice more on each buttock, savouring the jiggle of her bottom beneath his palm and the sharp snap of skin-on-skin. By the time he was smoothing his palm over her buttock once more to soothe her stinging skin, Nare was mewling and gasping and writhing helplessly on his lap, and his whole body was throbbing with a dark and wild lust.

Be patient, he coached himself, and he smoothed his palm over her hair. “Your compliance is truly admirable,” he told her, and he reached between her legs and pressed his fingers to her clit.

She jolted and moaned loudly, but she didn’t beg, and Solas smiled as he caressed the slippery little bud. “Good girl,” he said, and without warning, he slid one finger inside of her.

She burst out a wild cry, arching her spine and wiggling her hips as though to take his finger deeper, and Solas hissed in a breath through his clenched teeth. He could feel her pussy bearing down around his finger, like her body was trying to take him deep, and it was almost enough to make him abandon his sense of control. His control was tenuous as it was, like trying to keep a leash on a hungry wolf, but Solas forced himself to stay disciplined as he slid his finger smoothly in and out of her tight depths.

She sobbed and bucked back to meet his hand. “Sola— professor, I…” She trailed off and moaned, thrusting back against his hand like a little wanton, and despite his thinly-veiled lust, he smiled.

“You stopped yourself from begging,” he remarked. “That is very good.”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, professor, ye— aah!” Her words faded into a loud moan. He was curling his finger inside of her and twisting his wrist in a subtle way that he knew she particularly liked, and for a glorious moment, he just listened to the symphony of her desperate moans.

Then he pulled his finger free and spanked her again.

“Please!” she gasped. “I — mm, fuck, oh n-no…”

“I told you not to beg,” he said roughly, and he spanked her once more.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry, professor, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I — ah!” Another sharp cry exploded from her lips as his palm came down to meet her ass.

“I told you that you could say only two words,” he said in a hard voice. “What words did I permit you to say?”

“Yes, professor,” she sobbed.

“That’s correct,” he said. “Will you obey me and speak only those two words?”

“Yes, professor!” she wailed.

“Good,” he said coolly. “Now lie back on the floor and spread your legs.”

She nodded, then shakily lifted herself off of his lap and crawled onto the floor, and Solas shifted forward on the couch so he could better look at her. She rested back on her elbows, then placed her feet on the floor and opened her knees, and Solas shamelessly eyed her pussy… ah, fenedhis, she was so slick with the juices of her desire that he could practically taste her at the back of his tongue.

His cock throbbed in his slacks. He let out a slow breath and smoothed his palm over the ridge of his cock, and Nare’s eyes dropped to his hand. Her expression was twisting into a picture of desperate desire, but she didn’t beg, and Solas had to admire her restraint in the face of how obviously needy she was.

He stroked himself slowly through his pants. Nare let out a little sob before clamping her lips together, and Solas smiled faintly. “You’re a very good girl for holding your tongue. Now touch yourself.”

She laid back on the carpet and slid her fingers through her slick folds. She breathed hard as she caressed herself, then began carefully teasing her clit with the tip of her finger, and Solas stared at her in wonder. She was truly like a work of art, and one that tempted his every sense: the aesthetic delicacy of her rounded breasts contrasted with the jutting angle of her hips as she thrust toward her own hand, the melodic huskiness of her mewling cries as she stroked her swollen little clit, the unique and precious taste of her desire that he had yet to savour during this particular tryst. She was a physical manifestation of desire coming to life, a vivid and symphonic representation of everything that the word ‘passion’ encompassed, and as Solas watched her writhing and whimpering in wanton abandon on his living room floor, he felt his own wanton side surging to life as well, surging from the depths of his chest to unfurl hotly through his limbs and to rear its prideful head as he watched Nare’s delicate hand moving with greater desperation between her legs.

He squeezed the hard shaft of his cock — not yet, not just yet, he reminded himself — then released his cock and began unbuttoning his shirt, and Nare’s lips fell open in a gasp. “Mm,” she whimpered, her eyes falling to the open collar of his shirt. “Mm, yes professor, y-yes…”

He smirked as he laid open his shirt, and Nare’s face became even more tense with lust as she stared at his now-bared chest. She stared at him avidly, her eyes darting from his chest to his purposely-neutral face, and Solas watched with an arrogant sort of satisfaction as her breathing became erratic and short.

Then he lifted his chin. “Beg,” he commanded.

“Please!” she burst out, and she arched her spine viciously and spread her legs. “Please, professor, please lick me! Please, please lick me, I want your mouth on me, I—”

Solas wasted no time. Her voice was tense and her thighs were slick, and her whole body was calling to the hot and feral need that was howling in his chest, and the next thing he knew, he was kneeling between her open legs and pushing her hand aside and slanting his mouth over her sex.

He kissed her pussy before lapping ravenously at her slick and shining folds, and she jolted and pushed her hips toward his face. “Please!” she sobbed, and she stroked his scalp. “Please Solas, you f-feel so—”

He gripped her thighs to hold her wide and lapped delicately at her clit before sealing his lips over her pussy in a hot wet kiss. She let out another breathless sob and arched toward his mouth, and Solas watched her with the hungry instincts of a predator, licking her in just the right way to elicit the most powerful reactions from her beautiful naked body. He trailed his tongue around her clit in a slow circle to make her moan and sob, then lapped lightly at the swollen little bud until she was gasping and pressing her fingers into his scalp, and when her thighs began to tremble with tension beneath his palms, he forced himself not to smile at the obviousness of her impending climax.

He caressed her inner thighs with his thumbs and lapped at her pussy before teasing her clit with the sort of careful little licks and kisses that he knew would drive her climax to its height, and in the space of a few more sharp and shallow breaths, Nare gasped loudly and cried out. She shuddered and arched viciously toward Solas’s lips, but he didn’t break the rhythm of his mouth: he continued to lap at her clit and to kiss her sensitive folds, treating her with the exact teasing pressure that he knew she loved, and with her every whimper and shudder and moan, he felt more and more bolstered, like that starving feral side of him was being fed and fostered by the sounds of her lustful abandon.

She sobbed out a last pleasured breath and settled onto the carpet, then trailed her fingers over his cheekbone. “Please, professor,” she whimpered. “Please fuck me, please? I need you…”

He finally lifted his mouth from her pussy, then settled between her legs and planted his palms on either side of her head. “Kiss me first,” he commanded.

She curled her fingers around his nape and pulled him closer, and then they were kissing in a hard and hungry tempest of lust. She was licking his musk-scented lips and he was nipping her tongue, and then their mouths were slanting together as she moaned and bucked her hips to rub herself against his still-clothed groin, and the kiss was so ravenous and messy and scented with sex that it finally broke Solas’s control.

He nipped her lower lip, prompting her to let out a breathy gasp of pain, then sat back on his knees and palmed her breast. “Get on your knees,” he snarled, and he rolled her nipple between his fingers. “You will place your cheek on the floor and lift your bottom for my pleasure. Do you understand?”

She whimpered and nodded, then repositioned herself as Solas had asked. When she was properly positioned on her elbows and knees, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Please come inside me, professor,” she begged.

Ah, her words, her base and beautiful words… “You can be certain that I will,” he said harshly, and he began opening his slacks. “But first, you will come with my cock filling you up. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she blurted. “I mean — yes professor, yes!”

“Good,” he said. He freed his cock from his slacks and slid his rock-hard shaft through her folds.

She gasped and bucked back, spreading her fragrant slickness along the length of his cock, and a bloom of anticipation rippled through his abdomen. The way she felt, her heat, the velvety smoothness of her pussy against his cock—

“Please!” she wailed. “Please, Solas, please—”

He filled her up with one hard smooth stroke, and the sound she made was… fenedhis, it was so visceral and enraptured that it made his cock thump hotly within her depths. Her face was twisted with pleasure already and she was clenching her fingers on the carpeted floor, and Solas could tell from the tension of her pussy and the tension in her face that she was barely a few thrusts from her climax — a few thrusts, a few careful deep thrusts, and she would be coming around his cock. And if he did one additional thing to help bring her there…

He slowly withdrew from her body until just the tip of his cock was inside of her, and she sobbed and bucked back to try and take him. “Please!” she begged. “Please, Solas, please make me come, please…”

He stroked her scalp and the nape of her neck, then slid his hand slowly around her neck to grip her throat, and her lips fell open. “Yes!” she mewled. “Oh fuck, yes—”

He squeezed her throat and thrust into her, a firm and relentless thrust, and she cried out. “Yes! Yes please, I need—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish her thought. He kept fucking her with slow but careful thrusts, driving into her thoroughly as though to stroke every inch of her inner heat with his cock. He hungrily watched her face as he fucked her, watching the twisting tension draw her face into an exquisite mask of tension and need—

“Solas, please!” she screamed, and suddenly her pussy was clenching around him. She was shuddering and sobbing and arching her spine, and her pussy was so fucking hot and tight, and Solas finally snapped.

He squeezed her throat and thrust into her hard, and her answering wail of pleasure made him dizzy. And then he was fucking her, fucking her hard and fast with his teeth bared and his fingers gripping her hips, and the growling sound he was making — was that him making that growling sound, it had to be him, his own breath rasping through his clenched teeth as he claimed her. That had to be his own feral snarling sounds as his hips slammed into the softness of her ass, and he was dimly aware of how ravenous and animalistic he sounded, but his pleasure was rising too sharply and deliciously for him to care.

He released her throat and placed his palm on the nape of her neck instead. “You are mine,” he snarled. “My veraisa, my — my g-good girl, ah...” He shuddered and slammed into her once more, and his climax tore through his abdomen and his thighs in a blinding rush.

He groaned and squeezed her nape, shuddering and pressing his hips firmly against her ass as the rapture rode its way through his body in pulsing waves of pleasure. When his climax finally abated, he slowly and carefully pulled himself free from her depths.

Just as he had hoped, a drop of his creamy seed escaped her to trail down the back of her thigh, and Solas studied the evidence of his pleasure with no small sense of satisfaction. No matter how many times he took possession of Nare, no matter how often he got to enjoy the sight of his semen marking her body, it never failed to bring him a prideful sort of joy to see her painted with his pleasure in this way.

He gently caressed her buttock, then looked up at her face — her serene and broadly-smiling face, he was happy to note. “How do you feel?” he said gently.

“Amazing,” she said. She carefully shifted onto her back, then stretched out on the carpet like a cat before curling on her side and propping her cheek on her fist. “So, are you going to call Abelas back now?”

He blinked at her. Had she just…? She had not just said something so cheeky. Was she really tempting his ire again?

She grinned mischievously at him. He scoffed a disbelieving laugh and spanked her hip, and Nare burst into laughter. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing — professor, please don’t punish me, eek!” She squealed with laughter as Solas rolled her onto her belly and spanked her bottom.

He straddled her hips to trap her on the floor, then planted his palms on either side of her head and lowered himself over her to speak into her ear. “You haven’t learned your lesson at all, have you?” he growled.

“I did, I did!” she giggled. “I learned, I promise, I’m just—”

He cut her off with a kiss, delving his tongue into her mouth to stop her cheeky words, and Nare moaned into his mouth and passively accepted his kiss. When he peeled away from her lips, he was vindictively satisfied to find her cheeks and ears once more flushed with desire.

She smiled coyly at him and rested her cheek on the floor. “Am I a very bad student?”

“You’re fairly atrocious, yes,” he confirmed. “Yet somehow I am charmed by you.” He kissed her cheek, then stood up and fastened his pants once more before offering her his hand.

She took his hand so he could help her to her feet, then brushed back a few stray tendrils of hair. “Well, I should probably—”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. Instead, he swept her into his arms, then began carrying her through the living room.

She gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Solas! What are you — where are we going?”

“To take a bath,” he said.

“A bath?” she said. “But I — shouldn’t I work on my painting some more?”

“Certainly,” he said. “But I’m not convinced you have the discipline for such focused work.”

She grinned at him and draped her arms around his neck. “Are you going to clean me up and then punish me some more?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You shouldn’t be sounding so thrilled about being punished, Nare.”

“But I love when you teach me,” she said. “Even when you have to punish me first.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You really are trying my patience today.”

“I know,” she said. “Will you teach and punish me anyway, professor?”

He eyed her with an affectionate sort of exasperation. He truly hadn’t intended to spend this much time trysting with Nare today; he really did have work that needed doing, and Nare had work of her own to do as well. But her smile was sweet and her ocean-blue eyes were full of hope, and when faced with this hopeful look on Nare’s beloved face, he was powerless to say no.

As had always been the case from the moment they’d met, when faced with Nare’s beloved and beautiful face, Solas was powerless to say anything but yes.

He sighed. “Of course I’ll teach you,” he said. “But first, a bath.”

“Yes, professor,” she said sweetly, and she snuggled her head against his neck.

He smiled faintly as he stepped into the master bathroom with Nare in his arms. Perhaps they were being irresponsible by allowing themselves to be distracted by each other when they were meant to be working, but in truth, Solas was too happy to care.

He set her on the bathroom counter and returned her impish smile, then padded over to the door. As far as distractions go, this is an excellent one, he thought wryly, and he closed the bathroom door.

#solas #solavellan #solas/lavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #da:i #pikapeppa writes #may the dread wolf take you and never let you go

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