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[goethbeforethefall]

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Visuals Caldera Vhenan

Solas The Dread Wolf Fen'Harel

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[arlathvhen]

Beleth doesn't want to invest herself too heavily into hope, into the belief that she sees on his face.

Since they first met in Caldera, on that snowy, chilly day, when he stared at her like she was his greatest hope and fear both alighting down to torment him, and she realized that he did not recall anything that happened between them in those last hours, she knew that the task of convincing him would not be an easy one. She is one person, a sole woman, without Mythal, or Morrigan, and Rook was not in a cooperative mood. How could she convince him to lay aside his campaign and come to her, when in ten years, she'd been unable to do so?

She has told him what she knows, and what she has seen. She laid out the plans of her allies, so that he could not trip over them, and the only path for them would be to help her save him. And sometimes, it felt like he could see it, see the future that she told him of. Then something would happen -- his regrets, his fears, his duty too great a burden. So it might be, now. But she has to hope, and she has to enjoy when she sees the belief on his face.

And the love, which is always there, when his face is turned towards her. She will never stop enjoying that.

And he is kissing her, and she can taste that hope, that faith, and that love on his lips, and she returns it as best she can, sinking into his arms. Even if it's just temporary for now -- it will become permanent, in time. She has seen it. And she thinks to the orb, to the picture of him holding that little baby, placing a kiss on its forehead.

They will be happy, together. It is the only option she will brook.

"It will be." She tells him, with the confidence of knowing nothing else is possible. "I should sit in your lap more often, if this is how you act when I do it." Both their books are discarded, and she suspects they'll wait a little longer, as she adjusts herself, starting to trail her kisses around his face, lingering near his jaw, and neck.

"Maybe I would not be a good friend, after all. I don't think I'd last very long at not being able to touch you."

[goethbeforethefall]

"Ten years you endured," Solas reminds her; she does this often, belittling her own strength, and courage, as if adhering to reasonable limitations had ever once been her mein, "It is no mystery if you grow impatient, now. As I once told you that I longed to experience what it was to be dominated by you..."

No, his heart was strong, and now that it is safe to do so, Solas revels in it.

"...I can say now with confidence, it is as fascinating an experience as I might have predicted. You grow more skilled with every repetition, and the effect is... breathtaking."

[arlathvhen]

"It's different." She replies, lips pulling into what threatens to be a pout. "That is to say, it'd be different if we were friends. Though I'd still want to kiss you, I think." She cups his face, a smirk on her face as she examines it closely. "You are very kissable, I fear. I'm not sure I'd have the wherewithal to resist." She hadn't, after all, when Solas and her were in that dream together. Throwing caution to the wind and grabbing for him, the surprise on his face...

No more surprise now, of course. She's made her opinions quite soundly known. And when he mentions how breathtaking her skill is, she can't help but look quite pleased with herself.

"I could say the same of you. To hold dominion over the Dread Wolf... or to give myself to him entirely..." That smirk only strengthens as she slips a hand under his shirt. "Either way is thrilling. Though I will say, for as much as I will complain about the book, it did give me an idea or two..."

[goethbeforethefall]

"Shall I take you then, my heart?" He challenges, reaching at last to satisfy himself, hands easy on the fullness of her rump and leaning allow her own raving hands more freedom, "Shall I set a wolf's fangs at your throat and wring pleasure from you until you are weeping for mercy?"

It was an enticing thought; Beleth was so controlled, so full of prepossession and care. To see her incoherent, blind with pleasure and exhaustion, utterly spent, unable to do more than weakly protest... only to bend and pull yet more from her weary flesh. Yes, that was a thought, indeed.

"Or perhaps you will yet tame the Dread Wolf, and hold him to heel: all the hounds of Ferelden, put to shame."

[arlathvhen]

His hands and his words work in concert, a dual attack that leaves Beleth's ear tips red, both imagination and heart racing. Solas has always been good with his words, poetical when the mood strikes him, and tantalizing with other moods. Tempting and teasing.

But she has her own weapons.

"I want both. I want it all." She tells him, lips moving to his ear as her fingers toy idly with the band of his pants. "I want you, in every way that two people can be together. We have all the time in the world, my love, and I want to spend no small amount of it trying everything that is there to be tried." It's easy, in this position, to move her arms around to his back, nails gently gliding over the skin there, not quite enough to be called scratching, as she presses herself up against him.

"More than anything else in Thedas or Caldera, I want you."