Overwhelmed
EVERYONE! I had the distinct pleasure of writing a full scene commission for @lauren-draws-things/@lauren-draws-xxx based off of one of her very NSFW and very amazing drawings! (The link might not work - Tumblr is giving me a hard time, of course)
Thank you for letting me write Lenneth, and I am so pleased that you think I did her justice <3
My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots for February coming SOON!)
Pairing: Solas x Lenneth Lavellan
Rating: EXPLICIT. Content warnings for double penetration, dom/sub dynamics, and inappropriate uses of magic.
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Solas was always entirely too controlled, in Lenneth’s humble opinion. He didn’t misplace a single spell or word. He considered each bite of his food, each sip of his drink. He was mild-mannered to the rudest of nobles, quiet in noisy arguments. Of course, she did have to admit that that made it extra fun to rile him up. To be the only one who saw another side of him. To creep up behind him as he stood in front of his desk in the rotunda, wrap her arms around his waist, nuzzle into the space between his shoulder blades, feel him relax into her touch – and then to stand on tiptoe and place a wet, smacking, sucking kiss on the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder. “Lenneth!” He was trying to be scolding, but there wasn’t much use in trying to be scolding when one had just yelped like a dog. “You’ve been at this for far too long. Those oculara skulls won’t get any deader, you know. They will still be here in the morning. Come to bed, vhenan.” She wrapped her arms around him again and cuddled into the crook of his neck. He smelled like ink and lyrium and his own skin and it was perfect, and she wanted to drown herself in that scent. There was already a prickle of heat between her legs, and she would stoke it to a flame before the night was done.
“I am close to done.” He said, gently extricating himself from her grasp, giving her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Lenneth looked him over from head to toe. “Really? You don’t even look like you’ve started.” She let her gaze linger on the part of his sweater that preserved his modesty in order to make her meaning clear. He rolled his eyes. “You are more clever than that.” “When I want to be, perhaps. Right now I just want to be underneath you. Or on top of you. Whichever you prefer, really.” She rocked up onto her toes and then back onto her heels, full of her own excitement, her affection for the stoic man before her. She would peel back every layer soon enough. “No,” Solas said breezily, walking around to the other side of his desk. With a lazy wave of his hand, he reignited a candle that had fizzled while they talked.
That gave Lenneth a thought. One that had more to do with said prickle of heat between her own legs, and less to do with actual candles.
“You know,” she said. “You could always try using your magic on me instead.”
The aura of her own magic heightened around her at the thought, as though prickling with a hundred needles. It was one of those things she’d always wondered about when she was younger, and coming into her power. Things were always complicated with other mages in her clan and outside of it. She hadn’t had a chance to try with anyone else.
And Solas - the creativity in his spells, the way he confounded Vivienne and Dorian and Bull with them, the way he always seemed to be holding back some of his power - he was the perfect person to try with.
It helped that he was also handsome, and charming, that he loved her, and that she loved him, of course.
It also helped that goading him into giving it a try would be the most fun Lenneth had had in a long time, and the gods knew she needed the fun after the tension and horror of Halamshiral and Adamant.
She sent one long lick of her mana towards Solas and used it to trace the curve of his ear. She could feel the lightness that always filled her body when she stood halfway between both worlds - Fade and reality - and that only amplified that hunger growing within her. It did good things for Solas, too, from the vibration she felt in his aura at the touch of hers. The way he stood up straighter and breathed in through his nose was a good indication, too. A grin broke across her face.
“I have no idea what you are implying,” Solas said mildly.
“Come on,” she pleaded, following him, draping herself around him, nuzzling against his back and running her hands down his sides, perilously close to the fronts of his thighs. “I know how much you love to show off.”
“Lenneth, I promised this report to your council by the time you have your morning meeting.”
Solas’s tone was exasperated but he did not draw away from her. She knew how much he craved touch, how under that confident, austere veneer he was desperate for it, so desperate he could not even admit it fully, and had to show it in the way he would inevitably take control from her so he could have exactly what he wanted, needed, and from the way he seemed to hate every inch of space between them once they were alone, and bare.
Lenneth liked the role she played in that dance. She liked teasing, teasing, prodding, until she reached the soft, vulnerable center of him, and he had to react. She knew he liked it too. He didn’t know how to let it out otherwise.
“Well, that’s the marvelous thing about being in charge,” she said. “I hereby push your deadline to the afternoon meeting instead.” She traced a line down the front of his left leg with just one finger. He shivered but did not react otherwise.
Solas shook his head. “You know full well that the Seeker asked for the report. She wants to know how it intersects with what she learned from Lord Seeker Lucius. And she will not be present at the afternoon meeting.”
But he was starting to lean back into her now. Lenneth let her wandering finger wander inward, away from the warm muscle of his thigh towards the warmer, softer part of him that she most wanted to touch.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for you to amuse me for a little while, and then finish your report later,” she said as she cupped him and felt the beautiful weight of his sex in her hand.
Solas sucked in a breath.
“Lenneth,” he said. “We are in public.”
“And?” she said, cupping him closer, tighter, feeling him start to swell. “Am I not allowed to embrace my lover in public?”
“I believe that you are currently doing much more than embrace me,” he said, voice pitched low. It vibrated in his chest and she wondered if he could make his magic vibrate like that.
“Oh, my mistake then,” she said, withdrawing the touch, stepping back around to the other side of the desk, adding a twirl because she was alive and happy and she knew the dance between them had begun, and she was taking a night off from thinking about anything else. She retreated to the couch, feeling Solas’s eyes on her the whole while, knowing he was eyeing the sway of her ass as she walked.
“I have never known you to be so easily convinced,” Solas said.
“Disappointed?”
“In you? Never.”
It was such an unexpectedly sweet response. His smile was so genuine. Lenneth curled her toes with delight and then slouched down on the couch so she was reclined, and let her legs fall open, and Solas’s gaze was so heavy on the place between them that she could feel it, as real as if it was his hand.
“I must finish this,” he said.
“Would you really have me believe that you can’t finish me at the same time?”
She could see the delicate flaring of his nostrils, the flicker of his gaze from her casually spread legs to the report on his desk. He was weighing his obligations and the challenge she’d just thrown down for him. His parents, whoever they had been, had done well to name their son Pride.
Solas sat down at the desk and picked up his quill, as calm and poised as if their conversation had never happened. Lenneth deflated, dropping her head back against the sofa, and sighing theatrically. But Solas’s timing, as ever, was unerring. At the exact moment that she began to think she really had fallen in love with the most stubborn, unyielding man alive, she felt a row of wet kisses trickling down her neck. They were plush, warm, exquisitely placed. She would have sworn she felt Solas’s breath brushing across her skin with each one, that his weight was braced above her on the couch. But even as she let out a pleased hum and arched up, seeking more, she saw that he was still at the desk.
His left hand was busy with his quill, and his right hand was somewhere beneath the desk, on his knee, perhaps, and that was the trick. That was how he was doing this. He had so much power, so much control, that he could make her feel his presence with just a few subtle, out-of-sight gestures of his fingers.
Lenneth knew exactly what else he could do with a few subtle gestures of his fingers.
The ethereal kisses went lower, between her breasts, towards her navel. She whimpered, then slapped a hand over her mouth. It was late enough that the tower was mostly empty, but there was forever a spy in the rookery above, or one last scholar in the library scribbling notes, and she did have to be some sort of figure of authority at the end of the day.
“I cannot believe I ever found your focus indomitable,” Solas said, a chuckle warming the words.
He ended whatever sentence he was writing with a decisive stab of his quill onto the parchment. She could see the muscles in his right arm tense and before she could respond she felt a wash of sensation all over her body, a rain of a hundred kisses all over her skin, as if her clothes didn’t exist, as if nothing existed except his affection for her. He was kissing her breasts, her shoulders, her earlobes, her thighs, her ankles, the length of her spine. He was kissing her everywhere except her throbbing sex. She felt unbearably hot there, unbearably slick, unbearably swollen, already half undone, and she was still fully clothed, and he had not actually touched her once.
But Lenneth had some pride, too. She bit back the final mewling cry that threatened to spill from her when the rain of kisses faded, the last six or so being placed strategically around her lower belly and the tops of her legs, accompanied with a gentle nuzzling sensation. She propped herself up on her elbows and met Solas’s gaze.
“You know, I really thought your tricks would be more impressive. Is that all you can do?”
“Oh?” Solas said, returning to his writing, looking away from her. “I did not think I had to impress you. I thought I had already won you, my heart.”
And there, again, that disarming sweetness that made her want to melt into the floor, that made her breath catch in her throat. She felt a final ghostly kiss, this one on her forehead. She loved this side of him. But it wasn’t quite what she was after tonight. They could have all of that later. For now, she wanted him to transport her, to shed every pretense, to make her forget they were anything but animals.
“Didn’t you say something to me about Halamshiral? How no victory is permanent?” she replied, sitting up now - but keeping her legs spread wide, her feet planted firmly on the stone floor, and invitation and a challenge alike.
“Ah, so you do listen to my - what did you call them? My ramblings?” Solas continued writing, and now there were gentle fingers whispering up and down the outside of her legs, hands kneading the tension from her shoulders and running through her hair. Lenneth moaned in spite of herself, widened her legs further.
“Occasionally. And if I didn’t?” She did not bother to hide the breathlessness in her voice, even if she did not yet beg for him to stop teasing and fuck her already.
“That would be your choice. But I do so enjoy talking to you. You have the loveliest voice, you know.”
And that was when his magic placed a sloppy, open-mouthed, hungry kiss right on her cunt.
Lenneth arched, keened, scrabbled for purchase on the sofa, tried to press forward into a touch that wasn’t there. Other sensations joined that of his mouth - she felt hands spreading her legs, pushing them onto the sofa, felt the bulk of his shoulders, and even if she stared at the empty air in front of her, even if she stared at Solas, whose eyes were lowered demurely to the report, she could not convince herself that the feelings were anything less than utterly real.
“Oh, please, oh, more, yes, more -” she cut off her own babbling, felt her face go flame red, rode against the shape of his jaw and the press of his tongue. Her clit twitched, grew, ached for more.
“More of what?” Solas said. “I thought my talents were not impressive.”
That was, of course (of course) when two fingers slid inside of her, when he sealed his lips around her aching clit and sucked, when she had to bite down on her wrist, and even then her desperate whimpers still echoed off of the stone walls, and even then the ravens in the rookery rustled and clucked.
He kept working her. Lenneth’s smallclothes clung to her body, each stroke of his fingers and his tongue bringing a fresh wave of slick welling up from within her, and she was pulsing with her own need, writhing against the couch, shuddering every time he fluttered his tongue around her clit and calmly continued writing. The space between them was an ocean now, a gap so vast it took her breath away.
“Please, please - I want you and this, you and this, you and this.” She babbled her own refrain, not even really sure of her own meaning, just knowing that she needed all of him, every last scrap of Solas she could have, that she needed to be totally and utterly overwhelmed.
She opened her eyes. Solas had stopped writing. He was staring at her, hard, the muscles in his jaw working, like he really was there between her legs, eating her like she was his last meal. They locked eyes. He guided her closer, closer, closer to that precipice, she felt all the pleasure gather in one place, felt it about to explode outwards, felt a scream building in her throat - and then all the sensations stopped. She hovered, locked, at that precipice, panting, her throat raw.
“Upstairs,” Solas said, that one word a command. Then, smiling slyly: “If you can stand.”
Between the two of them and their ability to warp the Veil around themselves for speed and silence and cover, they made it up to her bedroom relatively unnoticed. Lenneth started shucking off her clothes on the stairs. She wasn’t sure who reached for who first - if it was Solas who clutched at her, or she who clutched at him, but before they ever reached the bed they were wrapped up in each other, clawing, biting, kissing. There was no magic now, other than the magic of their own connection, of how they bent and swayed together.
“More,” Lenneth said, reaching between them, cupping and grasping him, already ramrod straight and painfully hard in her hand. Solas made a muffled, gutted sound against her throat, where he was leaving sucking kisses behind. His hips rocked forward and so did hers.
“Bed,” Solas said.
And like that, Lenneth knew she had him. He had gone from his usual eloquence to single words, to ripping the hem of his tunic as he drew it over his head, to dropping his jawbone necklace with a clatter against the stone floor instead of setting it gently aside - he had gone from carefully controlled forays with his magic to a crackling power that seethed around him as he followed her onto the bed, crawling over her, his eyes all hunger and his hands all need.
“More,” she begged again. “More, vhenan, please, more -”
She was still soaked from their earlier play, and that had to be the only reason it didn't hurt when Solas drove himself into her, filling her up. She looked down the length of their bodies to watch his cock pumping in and out of her, the steady, driving rhythm of his need, the way her body parted for his, the shine of her slick on his rosy, rigid flesh.
“More,” she whined again. “I can't ever have enough of you, give me more.”
“Patience.” Single words again, this one little more than a growl.
“No.” Lenneth nipped at his chin, his throat, the corner of his mouth, squeezed herself around him.
And like that, she was on her stomach, and he was hauling her hips back, keeping her legs spread, pressing down between her shoulder blades, spreading her with two fingers. She ached with her own emptiness, leaned towards him, utterly wanton now.
“I am going to fill you with my magic,” Solas said. She could not see his face but she could hear his harsh breathing. “Will that satisfy you at last?” He stroked the length of her spine. It was a soothing, gently touch that made her skin prickle.
“No,” Lenneth said. “I want you, too. I want you everywhere.”
Solas's hand paused in its journey on her back. Lenneth turned her head so she could see him. His blue eyes gone black with desire, the flush on his high, sharp cheekbones, the angle of his jaw, his parted lips.
“I do,” she said, raw in her own need, her own vulnerability. She was spread before him, needing him, opened up to the most primal parts of her self. Nothing else mattered but this. She had wanted that tonight. After everything she had given for others. She just wanted this and all it meant.
Solas slid two fingers into her, curled them down, and her belly hollowed out with pleasure. He pressed on that rough spot within in her over and over again.
“I want all of you, too,” he said. “Will you give me that?”
“Of course,” she said. A wave of pleasures rippled through her, made her wetter, made Solas groan, finger her harder. “Please, gods, Solas - fuck me.”
Solas pulled her up by her waist - their bodies were flush together - he turned, they stumbled a bit, they ended up against the headboard of the bed, Lenneth spread wide between his legs. Another moment of fumbling, hands and legs - a lifting - and he was inside her again, but still this time. It was his mana that was stirring, rising, thickening from the ethereality of the Fade into something she could truly feel. Something pressing against her opening, close against Solas's length, rubbing shyly, teasingly, not quite breaching her.
A shiver ran through Lenneth's whole body.
“Oh, please, please, please -”
“You beg so prettily,” Solas said. She could feel his grin against her cheek.
The magic pressed inward by the smallest margin, stretching and burning her. She was full of Solas's body and she would have his magic now too, the essence of him, every ounce of him. She thought of him coming like this, filling her up the way she liked best, how he would groan and shudder behind her. Her cunt clenched. The magic slid in further. It was heavy, thick, blunt, pulsing with energy. Solas muffled a sound into her shoulder. Lenneth squeezed around him again, whined high and loud at the fullness, the vibration coming off the magic, the flex of Solas's own flesh within her.
“Wicked thing,” Solas murmured, rocking his hips, easing the magic in further.
“More, more, more,” Lenneth begged, and probably more besides that. She was not really in the business of paying much attention to what she was saying at the moment. All of her focus was reserved for swiveling and grinding her hips against that all consuming pressure within her.
“Needy thing,” he murmured.
And then he thrust hard, up into her, and she was so full she could not breathe or speak at all.
She burned, she ached, she felt herself on the verge of coming, her core so hot and so wet and so built up that surely all that pleasure would spill over soon. Solas seemed to sense that. He withdrew.
“No - no no no, please, vhenan, I need you, I need you to fuck me, right now, please, fuck me -”
She was being loud (as usual) and she did not care (as usual). Solas chuckled. The sound reverberated between their sweat-slick bodies. Lenneth looked down between them, caught a glimpse of the swollen red head of him, leaking clear fluid, the way his cock twitched and bobbed and the way he held back his own need.
“Noisy thing, too,” he said. “Perhaps I shall find a way to silence you. Would you like that, my heart? To be so full of me you cannot even speak?”
“Yes, please, yes -”
“Then have -” he paused, inched himself in, nestled his head into her folds. “Patience.”
Then Lenneth watched as the magic swelled beside him, a pale, shimmering phallus that found its own way into her body. They slid in together. She tried to watch but her eyes rolled back and it was good, so good, so overwhelming in the best way, there was nothing but sensation, pressure, friction, closeness. Her own magic hummed with the touch of his, the core of her connection to the Fade swelling at the same time as her clit, the walls of her cunt. She started up her sounds again, her noisy cries and moans and pleas. Solas worked her, held onto her hips to give himself stability, bounced her up and down and both the cocks filling her up. It was too much and not enough, when she came she would only get tighter and tighter, and she was going to come, her skin was all sparks and she was shouting now, feeling the wave building, her head tipped back -
And that, of course, was when her mouth was filled as well.
If she had not watched Solas’s own cock disappear inside her body, if she could not feel the slow, powerful pumping of his hips beneath hers, she would have sworn that that was what happened - that he had pushed himself into her mouth and was fucking her there, too. The cock that filled her mouth was smooth, thick, heavy, warm, as urgent in its movement as the two inside her sex were.
Lenneth only shouted all the louder. She was sweating. Solas was too. Beneath the sound of her own pleasure (trapped in her throat as it was) she could still hear him grunting his own joy. It was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect - the rough jostling of their bodies, the ecstasy of feeling him everywhere, of not being able to think of anything but how fucking good it all felt, how wet she was, how tight - tighter, tighter, tighter, she’d come so close the first two times, this time would she tip over the edge, would all that pleasure spill out in wave after wave, would that make Solas come too -
Solas nuzzled against her ear. He pinched her nipple. How did he still have a hand free? He went slower, harder with each thrust, and the sheer power, the power in him - he had such control over his magic and over himself -
“Do you think you will ever doubt me again?” he crooned.
The cock in her mouth slid further, teased the back of her throat. She tasted salt. She wanted it to spill all over her mouth. She wanted him to spill all over her belly. Her clit twitched, twitched, twitched. She wanted to come. She was babbling all of that but he couldn’t hear it, of course. Although - maybe he did, because he bit down on her shoulder and resumed one last driving rhythm, filled her, filled her, filled her, sent a spark of magic down to the place between her thighs and then -
And then her whole world was light, and sound, and pleasure.
She was coming, coming, coming, jerks and spasms, long keening cries, her whole body shaking, and she felt the ethereal shaft in her mouth jerk and spasm too, felt Solas’s whole body go tense - felt the magic dissipate, suddenly, half of the fullness leaving her body just as the last pulses wracked her - and then he pulled himself free from her body just in time to splash her with his spend, groaning and shaking all the while behind her, and he had been full, too - he went on and on, rope after rope, until he too was weak with the force of his pleasure.
Lenneth lay back against him, trembling. Solas barely held her up. He was panting. Lenneth was sore, and exhausted - and alive, so alive, and in love, so in love. She did not ever want to move or think again.
“Are you well?” Solas asked some time later. Lenneth wondered if she had dozed off and worried him. But, then again, he was like that - solicitous, caring, aware of her needs, perhaps even to the detriment of his own.
“I am perfect,” she said. He hummed and kissed her shoulder in response.
“Shall I clean you off?”
“After you worked so hard to make a mess of me?”
He laughed. She burrowed against him, determined not to let him move her off of him. She could not see his face this way, but she could feel every part of him - could feel him softening against her thigh, could feel the rhythm of his heart - and that mattered far more.
“Oh, Lenneth,” he said, absently. Maybe he was falling asleep, too.
“Are you well?” she asked, no mockery in her repetition of his question.
Solas was quiet a moment before answering. She wondered if it disconcerted him when she pushed him to lose control, or even if it just drained him. She waited for his answer, attentive.
“I am more than well,” he said. “As always, vhenan, you - transport me.”
She wondered what he meant by that. It was an odd choice of words. A careful one.
“I hope I transport you somewhere good,” she said. “Especially when we play like this.”
This time she had to turn around to see his face, to be sure. She flopped over inelegantly, so that she was still lying on top of him, but face to face this time. He was more flushed than she expected, but his face had a dreamy relaxation.
Solas cupped her face in both his hands, like she was something precious.
“Always,” he said, kissing each of her cheeks. “Except, perhaps, when you refuse to clean up, and then roll over on top of me, and make a mess of me too.”
Lenneth laughed, and that made her more sore, but once again it was the best kind of soreness - the kind that came from connection, from happiness. From feelings that overwhelmed.
