Steel beneath sinews, hard muscle with skin taut and pale. That’s what he looks like. A monster’s growl he emits as he comes towards her.
Soft and small, almost meek. It’s a ruse, inside she has dragon fire. It shows in the way she walks, the way she moves her hands and the way others bend and move to get out of her way as she passes. He’s not going to move.
He looms large, at least a foot taller than her maybe more, but he’s hardly intimidating. That smirk he’s wearing doesn’t help as she knows she wears a similar one.
The anger inside her seeps through every pore on her face now shiny with sweat. The memory of his own resentment and fury a sudden dagger that stops him in his tracks. He falters.
Why has he stopped? She’s been enjoying this, feeling like a caged animal has her wet with desire. Finally someone who thinks less of her than the others do. Or does he?
He drops the smirk and replaces it with an honest smile before replacing his shirt and turning to leave.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” She asks angrily.
“I have an appointment with Dagna.” He replies without looking back.
She jumps on his back and whispers, things she wants him to do to her. His open mouth clinging desperately to hers. His hands in her smalls and then inside her one finger then two. The hard part of him in other places he’s not yet been. She whispers where she’ll put her mouth on his body, how much she’ll swallow and cry tears when at its hilt. She bites him hard on the ear.
“Maker’s Balls. What the…?” He shakes her off and puts his hand to his ear. A small trace of blood is on his finger as he brings it into view. He looks at her eyes wide. “Is that what you really want? To play hard and rough?”
She says nothing and runs a tongue seductively over full pink lips. That’s exactly what she wants from him. No deference, no ‘Herald’ or ‘Your Worship’ no lick spittle sucking up like an obsequious Orlesian noble.
He laughs then and removes his shirt watching her turn her head approvingly to the side. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It’s breaking me. All this.” He can see her eyes are bright her mouth damp and parted. He moves towards her again, and she backs away. His brow furrows in confusion.
Her smile reveals how ecstatic she is that he’s complied without her saying another word. She needs this, Inquisition be damned. Her clan is all dead, most in Skyhold dislike her with the exception of the good Lady Montilyet, Solas and Cullen. She knows at some point she’ll go to one of them for ‘legitimate’ comfort in the eyes of Thedosian politics. Either one or all will offer her affection and good graces she doesn’t think she deserves. The way they look at her, she knows she’ll eat them up and spit them out like she does everyone else who fawns over her. But right now, her sights are on the doomed former Templar before her. She’s teasing him and it’s all shades of cruel, she knows.
Steel beneath sinews, hard muscle with skin taut and pale. That’s what he looks like. That’s what she wants, that’s what she needs right now.