dirtybiowareconfessions:

I want to sit on Solas’s lap and bury my face in the crook of his neck while he whispers dirty praises in my ear and gently coaxes me into multiple sweet, whimpering, mewling orgasms with his fingers/magic ❤

I HAVE A ONESHOT FOR THIS ONE TOO OH DAMN

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Elia has another question for Solas, and it’s a question she would normally never ask, but her inhibitions are swiftly dissolving as her desire fans higher. The mere press of her own smallclothes between her legs is pleasurable, making her feel slightly reckless, and her wayward mouth opens of its own accord. “Solas… Do you remember when Blackwall asked you if you knew any spirits as more than friends?”

He turns his head to look at her with one eyebrow raised. “Will we be speaking of your past lovers next?”

Through the haze of her arousal, she feels a spike of triumph. Ah, confirmation, she thinks. He’d talked his way around answering Blackwall’s ribald query, but now she knows for sure: he’s had sex with spirits. “We can if you like,” she replies. “But I’m not trying to pry. I’m just curious. What is it like?”

“What is what like?” he murmurs. His stroking thumb on her shoulder grazes the edge of her collarbone. It’s a simple caress, inherently innocent and light, but in her current state, Elia almost moans at the touch.

She gulps back the sound and tries to control the cadence of her own voice. “Being intimate with spirits. Is it difficult? Or…? They don’t have bodies that we can touch, so how…?”

She trails off vaguely and closes her eyes as his fingers slide along the back of her neck and into the short tufts of her hair. “That’s neither entirely true nor false,” he says quietly. “Some demons can strike us physically. Their claws are as real and solid as any bear’s. Their form matches their purpose, which is to maim.”

Elia is listening; she is. But his voice is more resonant than thunder, rousing the slow and steady roar within her core. His fingers are a gentle fist at the nape of her neck, persuasive and sweet, and she cranes her head back into his grip and arches slightly into his chest. “That’s true,” she breathes.

“It is the same with sex,” Solas says, and a tiny whimper of longing finally slips from her throat. The mere word in his silken voice ignites the smouldering tinder of lust in her body, and she can’t help herself; she slides her leg over his, trapping the lean line of his thigh against her groin, and presses shamelessly against him.

Meanwhile, Solas continues to talk. “A spirit becomes more corporeal if this best suits their purpose. If the purpose is intimate and the partner is kind, a spirit can become quite solid indeed.”

His voice is pitched low and deep with secrets. His fist tightens in her hair, and she arches obediently against his chest. Her nipples are budded and hard, aching for his touch, and she silently curses the veil of her cotton shift for standing between them.

She rubs herself shamelessly against his thigh. She’s absolutely wet with desire, her smallclothes clinging to the apex of her thighs, but she’s beyond caring now. “I want to know more,” she breathes. “Tell me more.”

He releases her hair and strokes her neck lightly before acquiescing to her demand. “Courting a solid spirit is a simple matter, if your intentions are pure,” he says. “But intimacy with a noncorporeal spirit is possible too. It simply requires a different set of skills. A certain type of magic.”

Abruptly he rolls towards her and traps her between his forearms. His eyes flare with a brilliant blue glow for the briefest instant, and Elia gasps with surprise. Despite her shock, she lifts her hips eagerly to meet him, but he holds his hips torturously out of reach.

Solas lowers his mouth to her ear. “Shall I show you?”

His voice is rough, a feral growl of desire, and Elia arches towards him with desperation in every inch of her spine. “Yes,” she begs. “Show and tell?”

“Of course,” Solas purrs. He sits back on his heels.

Elia keens with distress and spreads her legs in a desperate bid to tempt him close. “Solas, please!”

“Patience, vhenan,” he says. His voice is a soothing command, sharp and soft in one. He pushes her shift up above her belly and rests his palm carefully on the flat on her abdomen. “Hold your mind in that liminal space between our worlds.”

Elia’s body is thrumming, wild with heat and desire, but she forces herself to breathe slowly and do as he taught her: with eyes closed tight and a few deep, careful breaths, she slips into the threshold of the Fade.

Read the rest on AO3.