Work Text:
It had started innocently enough, she remembered.
Nyriel had been showing Solas her knitting as he painted on the rotunda walls, something that she enjoyed doing in her downtime and on some evenings out in the field. He watched her every few moments as her hands wove the string back and forth, short rows extending out from the needle in her right hand. They were sat upon the platform in his rotunda, a quiet evening spent in each other's company just talking as they engaged in their pastimes.
“It's a very basic pattern,” she told him, “just a simple stitch that makes something like this quick to finish.” Dorian could be heard chuckling from the library above them occasionally, no doubt aware of their growing fondness in recent weeks. Just how fond she wasn't willing to tell him.
Solas was surprised at her seasoned skill, and found himself fixated on her. He had abandoned his work in favour of her swift hands and the way they bent the yarn to her will. Every few rows she would hold it up to his wrist, checking the sizing, before adjusting the ball of fibre. Her nimble fingers made light work of the dozens of small loops on the needle, he observed, watching it being pulled in and out, in and out...
“Solas? Are you quite alright?” she asked, jogging him from his thoughts. He coughed, a strangled noise that earned a guffaw from the library above them.
“Yes, lethallan, I was just admiring your skill. A spirit once showed me a memory it had found of knitting while I dreamed. I remember seeing a fisherman's wife craft a pair of gloves for her husband to wear while he worked on the boat, a wirey lamb's roving, thick and warm. She sang as she hooked the wool just as you do now, the husband busy at the fireplace gutting the fish he had caught that day for their evening meal. It was a pleasant moment.”
She smiled the half-smile and put out the small hum that she gave when her mind was in two places. He marvelled at her ability to do so; how she could work so effortlessly on one thing, and simultaneously hold an entire conversation with somebody. The tricky part for her was always to remember the conversation. Her focus, unlike his own, was easily distracted.
He stood up and left her to her work, clambering off the platform to look through some sketches of the half-finished mural and neaten up some details. They went on in silence for a short while; him busying himself with research and notes, her perched on the scaffold, legs swaying gently to some inaudible tune.
She was soon finished with her project, satisfied that it fit around his wrist, and joined the two edges together to make a tube of knitted fabric. She made her way down the ladder and leaned over his now-seated form at the desk, waving the lump of wool in front of his face til he conceded his attention to her. She shoved it over his left hand and he turned his arm to admire her workmanship. He appreciated her little gifts, and something like this, that he could treasure even when he was away from Skyhold... He examined the piece, which fit snugly and was already emanating warmth, when he had a sudden curious thought.
“Just how strong would you say this was, vhenan?” he queried.
“Generally they can survive some wear and tear but I couldn't say. I've never really tried to break my own work. Why do you ask?” She could see his eyes already darkening, plotting and scheming away. It stirred something within her when she saw those eyes, there was a wildness that lay unspoken behind them. He kissed her playfully, pinching the tiniest nip on her bottom lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth. He toyed with her, and she let him, relishing in this sudden and focused appreciation. She was starting to doubt that this was all about the knitted wristband, however. He got up and faced the door out of the rotunda, placing his hand at the small of her back.
“I could use some fresh air, and the servants have commented the sky is particularly clear this evening. Would you like to join me?” His eyes twinkled, and she blushed, swearing she could hear whistling from upstairs. She would be having strong words with a certain Tevinter mage later.
“I don't really want to leave the castle, Solas, I've had a long day of meetings and foreign dignitaries. How about we just relax upstairs for a while? I have some tomes I've been meaning to give to Vivienne for her Circle collection, and there's one on the applications spiritual energy in physical rehabilitation that seems fascinating. We could sit upstairs, where it's more comfortable?” She asked in a low voice, expressing the hidden invitation in her words. His eyes lit up, a flash of hunger that confirmed her suspicions.
“Excellent idea, ma vhenan. Let's walk.” He guided her out of the rotunda, deliberately avoiding Dorian's smug expression as he did so.
The view from the balcony never ceased to amaze her. The moon loomed large and bright over the mountain range outside her window, the snow glittered beneath its gaze. She breathed in the chill night air, but didn't feel the cold against her body. It may have seemed unusual, given the little clothing that she wore around the Keep, but Solas' arms were around her, enveloping her in his heat and strength. She could never understand how he was so well-built for an elf. Even the most hardened warriors and hunters among Dalish clans seemed thin and reedy next to his confident physique, which rivalled that of any human male. She turned to face him, her back against the railings, taking the opportunity to massage one hand across his shoulder and down his front. The muscle of his chest was toned, fine-tuned for a life of unexpected dangers as he had travelled across Thedas.
He gazed down at her, his eyes reflecting that same moonlight she so loved. One arm moved to hold her chin, tilting her face and kissing the soft lips of her face. She positively glowed, he thought, burgeoning with femininity. She possessed the charm and sensuality of a wild cat; she was someone that would follow him to the ends of the world if inclined, yet she could calculate her surroundings so carefully, playing the field to her advantage with just a few words from those perfect pink lips. He hardened his heart a little at the thought; it was almost too familiar to him. Instead, he recalled crisp visions of her at Halamshiral; confident, almost regal in manner, and then so submissive and pliant with him. Her personality – and mood – could change like the wind.
She watched his eyes all the while he was thinking. She reached up on tiptoe, kissing from his cheekbone toward his neck.
“So how warm is the knitwear, vhenan?” She asked, her lips brushing against the soft lobe of his ear. He shivered, but not for the cold.
“Plenty warm enough, though I am seasoned to these climates and I have no real need for it.” He removed it from his wrist, examining it and turning it over in his hands. “Would you like to test something for me? It will not hurt, I assure you. Quite the opposite, I hope.” His eyes twinkled, the darkness in them appearing once more.
“That all depends, hahren, on what exactly we are testing.” She teased him, calling him her teacher. As though she could learn anything good from him.
“Well, lethallan, you told me you were uncertain we could break this wrist warmer. I would like to find out. Come, place your wrists together in front of me.”
She obliged, holding her hands together as though in prayer, and he placed the tube of fabric over her two wrists, binding them together. She pushed her arms apart from each other, demonstrating some elasticity, but no sign of crumbling so easily. He held her forearms, marvelling the sight of this woman so comfortable with being bound before him. The pangs of desire pulsed through him, and with no thought involved he kissed her as he had truly wished to kiss her in the rotunda, his lips pushing into hers, tongues meeting in the open air. She craned her neck to match him, but his dominance was already overpowering, his arms drawing her to him as though fighting an army of other men vying to touch her. His teeth rolled over her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth; the stinging in her lips foricing a moan from her lungs. She reciprocated his tease, dancing her tongue around his, mimicking the act of what she could perform in other places of his body. She reinforced her motive by cocking her hip and pressing it over the growing bulge in his clothing. The sound he made could have been heard by half of Thedas. It was gutteral, verging on obscene. The growl that came from him caught her by surprise and Solas saw his chance. He placed her bound wrists around his neck and expertly lifted her thighs to either side of his hips, seating her on the ledge of the balcony. She found it exhilarating that only Solas prevented her from certain death, and leaned back slightly. He clawed at her, his hips pressing tighter against hers, his lips asserting their dominance over her body. He broke the kiss to suck at her earlobe, nibbling his way to the tips of her ears and then moving down to suck and kiss at her throat.
She gasped, the rutting of his hips against her own parted legs awakening her core.
“Solas, take me inside,” she breathed, and he obliged, carrying her in her seated position to the edge of the bed. He took the liberty of pulling up her vest, dragging her restrained arms abover her head, and to his delight found her bare breasts greeting him. Their pale supple flesh called to him, the smell of honey and milk that lay upon them ignited something carnal within him. His lips carved their way down her collarbone to delight in the orbs of flesh that lay below them, lathering her nipples with his tongue. Her back arched to meet him as he lapped at each one, swirling tiny circles around them. He sucked one between his lips, pulling gently and sending a spark of pleasure darting its way along her spine. He released it and blew gently against the wet skin, the cold sensation aching at her insides. She realised that he was in fact blowing icy magic over the damp flesh he had just bathed with his saliva. The chill spread through her breast, arousal shooting in pulses of pleasure and discomfort. She looked down to see the frosty sheen that covered her chest, and the look of hunger on her lover's face. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated wider than she had seen on animals in the night. His mouth half-twisted into a smirk, absorbing the delightful image of her bound and obiescant body. He gathered the glistening, frozen skin into his mouth and she gasped at the burning heat of his tongue against her breast. She saw stars for a moment, her arousal fanning into a fire within her, aided by the wandering of his hands across her body. His fingers tickled at the soft flesh of her taut stomach, the mucles underneath rippling with his whim and she almost screamed at the sensitivity.
“Ng-ah! Solas, that- nng-!” were the only words she could manage between studdered breaths, her mind slipping into blackness from the overwhelming pleasure. Solas flicked his eyes up to hers before unlatching his mouth from her swollen breast and silencing her cries with his tongue. He tasted like a mountain spring, and she could taste herself upon him also. Solas worshipped her mouth with his tongue and then leaned back down, his kisses descending to where his hands had grazed over her abdomen, raking his teeth across the strained muscles there. The sensation brought a ragged moan from her her lungs and she couldn't help but grasp out for something, clutching desperately at the bedsheets above her head. His attention diverted lower, his licking and scraping pouring over her mound and heading for her thighs. He yanked the trousers down to her ankles and stroked her flushed skin. A rogue hand scraped at one thigh as he nipped and sucked at the other, and she writhed her body over the bed, her nails cutting into her palm despite the silk barrier she still clung to.
His hands pulled at her small clothes, lowering them over her backside and sliding down her legs before flinging both them and the trousers absently across the room, never removing his eyes from her. He smelled her damp sweetness, licking around her folds and blowing chilled air over the wetness that wicked from inside her. She could have come there and then, she felt, trying and failing to remain in control of herself. Her arms were splayed over her eyes now, chanting incoherently as her body twitched at Solas' every command. She moaned his name, pleading with him to finish her and end this dizzying arousal, and he answered her calls by planting his mouth firmly between her legs. Her hips jerked into him at the sudden attention and she whimpered, the fire in her core aching and weighing her into the bed. He lathed his tongue around her, pressing hard against her burning coil of nerves whenever he passed over it, the rhythm building her orgasm higher and higher with each stroke. One hand left her thigh to claw at her naked backside, the other danced over her stomach and up to her breast, pulling and pinching each sore nipple, almost bringing Nyriel to tears. She would never have known he was capable of this. That his desires would manifest this way. She could hardly believe that she enjoyed it so greatly, but when she felt his hand drag lower towards where his mouth was making sweet music and finally enter her she wailed in ecstasy. Two fingers pressed their way inside, stroking at her walls. She clenched at the intrusion, forcing his fingers to push the fleshy spot that sent her arching from the sheets.
“Solas!” She cried, her hands wrenching outward, splitting the knitted warmer apart as her arms came down to gather fistfuls of cotton and silk. She unravelled around Solas' fingers, his kisses making their way back up and over her whilst she rode out each wave of her orgasm. As the tingling in her skin faded Solas had removed his clothing and moved onto the bed above her, sucking at her earlobe and the tips of her ears, whispering words in elven that she had no energy to hear. He gathered her into his arms, setting her on her knees before him, and lifted her to straddle his legs. She could feel his hardness beneath her, and she whimpered at the friction against her tender flesh.
Solas kissed her reverently then; gentle flutters that began at her mouth as she came back into the room, tracing her jawline and then the soft spot behind her earlobe. She moaned into his ear, allowing her freed hands to roam down the back of his neck and trail his spine. Her fingertips dug into the muscles of his shoulders blades and he groaned at the pressure points. His lips found hers once more and he opened her mouth to seek the wet heat of her tongue against his. She kissed breathlessly, exhausted but still not quite sated, and he nipped at her lower lip. Nyriel's hips began to grind against his own, producing all manner of noises from his throat until he could bear it no longer. He drove himself inside of her with such force that she hissed, her fingernails digging into his back. She rotated her hips above him, her spark rekindled and consumed by the burning need to see him in as much pleasurable agony as she had felt. She cocked her hips back and forth, angling so as to only allow the tip of his hard shaft any pleasure, mercilessly assaulting the nerves and watching as his face scrunched in a mixture of frustration and overwhelming lust for her.
“Mmm, vhenan, you are infuriating,” he growled. Solas thrust up into her, his full length barraging her walls. He pushed her back onto the bed, strong hands pinning her arms above her head. As he pounded he bit at her breasts, leaving small bite marks across the already bruising skin. She watched as his face contorted with the speed of his climax, struggling to keep her own second wave in time with his. He rested his head besides hers as her orgasm hit, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from waking the entirety of Skyhold. It was enough to send Solas over the edge himself, moaning her name between gasps of breath as he spilled inside of her. He gave a few last shallow thrusts, prolonging both their orgasms for as long as he could muster, before collapsing on top her. He released her arms and she brought them around his waist lazily, holding him for seemed like a cosy eternity.
“I guess that answers that, then. You can destroy a piece of perfectly good knitting.” Nyriel finally spoke into the void. She could feel Solas' tired laughter echo through her chest.
“It would appear so, ma vhenan. It is a shame I never benefitted from any other utilisation from it beforehand.” He breathed deeply, his mind whispering songs of sleep.
“If it bothers you, I shall make another. It's no trouble... really...” She yawned, silent as a cat, and stretched out over the sheets.
Solas lifted himself from her and fetched a cloth and clean water from a pitcher. He smiled at her naked frame over-hanging the bed. Her eyes were closed, too exhausted to lift them, and she hummed to herself quietly. A lullaby, he thought to himself. He cleaned her body, Nyriel letting out a soothing sigh at the cool water on her skin. She crawled under the besheets, waiting for him to return before finally drifting off. He obliged, tucking her under his arm and felt her rest her head against his chest, falling asleep to the slow and ancient beating of his heart. Solas followed her soon after in her dreams, chuckling as he found her teaching a spirit how to loop yarn through an imaginary needle, the poor wisp having barely control over the swatch of fabric they were trying to create.
She was truly unique, he thought, to have such command over all manner of beings. She could even control a god if she knew of one.