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Patience	By : Tanwen Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Originally posted on the Dragon Age Kink Meme.
Prompt:

I just really get turned on when I think about someone coming up behind another character and feeling them up, trying to seduce them. Kissing their neck, pressing against them, licking their ear, whispering all of their naughty thoughts, the ol' reach-around, anything you can think of. So that's the prompt. Make it hot, anons!
Note: this is NOT noncon. This is patient seduction.
All the cookies for:
+++++++++ non-established relationship

++ starts out dubcon, seductee is SUPER resistant to having sex with this person, because reasons

++ but they're not pushing the seducer off either, because Maker this is so wrong but HOT

++ why is it wrong? pick your kink! cheating? incest? underage? unprofessional? risk of getting caught/public? so many options, anons.

+ het pairing, or

+ if slash or femslash, seductee has never been attracted to the same sex before

+++ seductee is SO hesitant that this becomes an ongoing thing, and s/he starts to look forward to it

++++++ eventual submission to temptation and full blown sexy times

+++ maybe they've been fighting the heat because they can't stand each other and that turns into hate sex?

Solas always knows when Shaeri Trevelyan has come to visit him. Her scent, a rich spring lilac, always travels ahead of the sound of her footsteps. He is constantly struggling with the temptation to inhale that scent, close his eyes and let that wash of arousal he feels build.

He is Fen’Harel, ancient, eternal. She is an arrogant shem using magic that she barely understands. One wrong move on her part would erase all hope he has of reclaiming his Orb, and some days that irritation spreads over into his interactions with her. Oddly, she seems to enjoy it. He will never understand humans.
“Inquisitor,” he says politely, when she is close enough that he could reasonably be expected to have noticed her. “How may I assist you?”
Trevelyan does not reply instantly. She does this sometimes. At first it made Solas uncomfortable, but he has grown used to it. He is not the only one she does this to. Occasionally he has overheard Dorian snidely remarking that she should say what she came to say, already, and it makes him smile.
Solas bends over the table, tracing a finger across a passage in the book he is reading. He hears Trevelyan inhale sharply, in a way that instantly rings familiar with him, and he fights the urge to move. He had missed the signs that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Stupid elvhen. He is losing his touch.
A heartbeat later, he feels Trevelyan’s warmth behind him. He goes stiff, in more ways than one. She runs a finger down his spine and then places her hand on his rear in an exploratory caress.
“What is the meaning of this?” Solas asks, trying his best to sound indignant.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Her voice is deep and rich and causes his cock to jump. He fights back a snarl. “I’m trying to seduce you, Solas.”
He will not give her the satisfaction of turning, of acknowledging that she is having any effect on him. “This is hardly appropriate.”
Trevelyan laughs. “No, it isn’t. That’s what makes it fun,” she says. She gives his rear a gentle squeeze before withdrawing her hand. She presses her body against his and he cannot help but let out a soft grunt at the contact. Her breath is hot against his neck. Her hands come to rest on his hips, resuming the slow and gentle caress that she had been using a moment ago.
Solas is hard. So hard that he dares not move, not breathe, not do anything to encourage this outrageous behavior. He draws upon every ounce of patience he has at his disposal and remains still.
“Playing hard to get, are we?” Trevelyan asks. “No matter. I’m certainly enjoying this.” Her lips press against his skin, tongue flicking gently to emphasize the contact. Solas fights temptation, closing his eyes to try and focus better. She continues to work her way across his neck, laying a trail of gentle kisses as she moves towards his mouth.
Solas decides to cheat. He whispers under his breath in elvhen, and his erection subsides. He will pay for it later. He turns around and meets her gaze, his face far colder than his insides feel. “That is quite enough,” he says firmly. “If you are going to invade my personal space in this manner, I shall take my leave.”
He stalks away, heading to his quarters. It gives him some amusement to hide his sleeping space from everyone at Skyhold, his secretive nature asserting itself. It is not until he has reached safety that he lets out a long breath. His hand has already started to drift towards his returning erection.
Here, in privacy, he gives in and closes his eyes. He conjures up her face, the features far too large and flat to be elven, brown skin and black hair that are nowhere near the tones he is used to. She is arrogant, demanding, cocky, grating on his nerves far too often.
Solas cries out as his seed spills to the floor, traces of her scent still in the air.
He resolves not to be taken by surprise again, and now he watches Trevelyan warily whenever she enters the rotunda. The first time after she had caused him to flee from his own desires, they had gotten into a staring contest, neither of them wanting to be the first to break eye contact. Eventually she left, muttering a harsh curse under her breath as she did so. He was wise enough to suspect that she had not given up.
When she visits again, she is not wearing any of her usual perfume, and it has the desired effect. She has circled around behind him again, keeping him pinned in place by proximity alone. Solas has realized that he should have asked her to leave, before - that by fleeing, he told her that she was affecting him. It has encouraged her, for this time her caresses are bolder, fingertips digging into his skin. He tries to stem the hitches in his breath that will tell her she is wearing him down.
“I know why you’re trying to resist,” Trevelyan says in a soft voice. Her lips are right next to his ear. “You don’t actually like me that much. I know what you think of me. I know that you think I am playing with magic that should never have been mine.”
She has no idea how right she is.
Trevelyan falls into one of her usual silences as her hands continue to roam. Solas keeps himself rigid, unyielding. This time, he will make her leave. She has no right to come in here and tempt him in this manner.
“I hardly see how any of that matters,” Solas says. “I have indicated that your advances are unwelcome. Most people would take that as a cue to leave and forget the matter.”
Trevelyan laughs richly. “Unwelcome?” she asks, her tone slightly mocking. He has, momentarily, forgotten how fast her reflexes are. Her right hand snakes around and cups his erection, and there is no stopping the moan at this sudden contact. She strokes him gently for a few moments while he struggles to pull himself together and find the will to break this contact. He wants, so badly, to let her do this.
“Hardly that,” Trevelyan whispers, still pinning him there. “I would never have guessed that you were so large and thick, from your slender build. I bet it surprises your lovers when they first see it. This is going to feature in my dreams for quite some time, Solas.” She draws in a breath, her hand stilling and giving him a bare moment of relief. He is not quick enough to use that moment to pull away from her. “I want this in me. I want you to fuck me, Solas. We don’t like each other enough for it to be ‘making love’.” There is a hint of a sneer in her voice. “I want it to be raw, and hard, and have it end with both of us hoarse from screaming.”
That is disturbingly close to how Solas prefers his sexual encounters. He does not want to think about that. He does not want to think about Trevelyan in any context that might involve further intimacy. He does not want her to know how close he is to yielding. The thought of denying her that satisfaction is all that allows him to tug her hand away. He does not waste energy with the spell again. She has already divined the effect she has on him.
“As you say, we do not like each other,” Solas says. He does not turn around. It is taking all of his control to remain still. “That is usually a reason to avoid such intimate contact. You are, once again, invading my personal space, Inquisitor. I would ask that you leave unless you have actual business to discuss with me.”
Silence. Harsh breathing. “This isn’t over,” Trevelyan says. He hears her footsteps moving away, but does not relax. She could decide to return and try again.
“Maker, you are a stubborn one,” Dorian says from above. Solas curses, having forgotten there might be an audience. “I think you did the right thing, but if some handsome, charismatic fellow was touching me like that?”
“It is not your business, Dorian,” Solas says tersely. He does not like that Dorian now knows how much the Inquisitor affects him.
Dorian laughs. “No, no it is not. Go back to your studies, Solas. I promise I won’t try to seduce you.”
It takes quite some time before he is actually able to focus on anything besides her.
She does not visit him the next day. Or the one after that. Solas is irritated by his disappointment. He feels quite confident in his ability to hold out against her and almost wishes that she would try again, so that he could have those few moments of pleasure. The thought wrings a growl from him that is more Fen’Harel than Solas, and he is glad that Dorian is not around to hear him.
She is still on his mind when he returns to his quarters to sleep. He does a few meditating exercises that have helped him over the years before laying down and entering the Fade.
The first thing he hears is a woman’s moan, low and throaty, and he knows instantly that it is hers. Solas turns around to see Trevelyan, in his study, kneeling on top of his table. His books are scattered across the floor as though they had been knocked off. He is focusing on that detail to avoid thinking about the deeper ramifications. He has walked into her dream, of course, like a young fool. And because it is her dream, her fantasy, he is also there.
Solas sees himself underneath Trevelyan. She is riding the dream-Solas with a smile on her face, her head thrown back in ecstasy. The sounds that are coming from his image are disturbingly accurate. He would not have guessed that she had such an excellent ear.
All at once he is angry, with her and with himself. He has lived too long to be affected by trivial matters such as this, but she has slipped under his skin and now he cannot be rid of her. He feels power settle over him like a mantle as he steps forward, entering the dream. His image vanishes, and there is a look of confusion on her face before he pins her to the table in its place. Solas holds her wrists down and bends his head, bringing his mouth to her neck and nipping at it - lightly at first, but when she moans in pleasure he bites her harder. He will show her what it would really be like to be fucked by him, Fen’Harel, Dread Wolf.
His erection is resting on her stomach, her hips thrusting upwards in a desperate motion. “Solas,” she whispers, and he growls in return. “Solas-“ and she gasps as his mouth moves down to grasp one of her nipples. Her back arches again, the pressure on his erection near painful, but he ignores it. She whimpers beneath him, her breathing ragged.
Solas loses himself in her. It had been his fear this whole time, and it is now coming true. It takes him some time to notice that her whimpers had changed to words. She is pleading with him, desperately, begging him to fuck her.
As he had dreamed of.
Solas lifts his head and gazes at her flushed face, memorizing the sight, before he slides into her. Trevelyan gasps and tries to clutch him, but he is keeping her hands pinned to the table. Solas moves slowly, deliberately, making a careful note of where he wrings the most response from her. He is almost unbearably hard, his body screaming for release, but he is able to keep being patient. He is enjoying this too much, enjoying having the Inquisitor moaning beneath him.
She is begging him again.
“-please, please, I need to - need to come,” Trevelyan says, the words broken by ragged breaths. She is pressing herself against him, back arched, hands straining. She is quivering with need.
Solas releases her hands, which instantly reach for his back and try to pull him down flat on top of her. He lets her, easing up on the pressure he has been putting on her middle at the same time. Trevelyan’s hands dig into his back as she thrusts - once, twice, and then he feels her come. He growls in pleasure at the sounds she makes, her whimpers in time with her desperate movements. “So-las-“ she breathes, and he comes undone. He thrusts roughly against her, causing her soft whimpers to increase to loud gasps once more. He moans, growls, lets her know just how much pleasure he is wringing out of this encounter. He presses against the spots that he has found to be sensitive and draws out her climax for as long as he is physically able.
Solas knows that as soon as he releases her, exits her dream, it will fade and she will sleep normally. It is, perhaps, too late to convince her that this was a normal dream, but he will try regardless. He kisses her forehead and wraps some of his magic around her, telling her in elvhen that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Trevelyan sighs and relaxes herself as Solas stands to leave.
Perhaps this will be enough for both of them. Perhaps this will end her mad quest to seduce him. He is not convinced that he wants that to happen, but he forces himself to wish for it anyways. To do otherwise would be to admit that he is an old fool.
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Patience