The influence the Inquisitor had over him was most unfortunate. Such was evident in everything he did. Faen permeated through the slightest of his actions. The Wolf avoided the Inquisition at every turn, directing his agents to avoid contact, conflict by extension, with them and on a few occasions, pulling out of areas entirely simply because there was a whisper of Inquisition interest there. On a more personal level, Venni saw the sadness in his eyes, could feel the strain in the air when the Inquisitor was mentioned. The smallest possible mention of her would cause his features to harden, his jaw to clench so hard that his temporalis muscle bulged to an unhealthy degree.
It pained her. And she knew he knew it pained her. She wasn’t exactly subtle in her feelings for him. Just like the Inquisitor was in everything he did, he was in everything Venni did.
She decided that she hated the Inquisitor. It was her who caused his pain and her he longed for. Faen was both the object of his obsession and of his undoing. There were times where Venni lingered uncomfortably between wanting to soothe his pain and wanting to destroy the woman he loved for selfish reasons. She had given into neither. Yet.
It wasn’t as if she could soothe his pain though, even is she tried. Fen’Harel was a hard man, one who did not give in easily to his impulses or urges or his emotions. Of all the agents who spoke to him directly, she was the only one who truly knew him. She was his top agent. According to her, they were fairly close.
On occasion, she would make him smile. His smile made her heart flutter. Other times, she could pull a laugh from him. The sound was like velvet in her ears. She was hungry for the sound. She wanted to be the one to make him happy all the time. But she could not. At one point, she had convinced herself that she was fine with that. Now...she was decidedly less so.
There were nights where the thoughts of him overcame her. In the silence and stillness of the night, she would creep a hand into her undergarments, feel and explore herself as if the hand were his own. Or his tongue. She was not picky. She would draw herself to an incredibly high peak with the thoughts of him filling her, caressing her, feeling her. She was his in every way, not just in dreams, but in reality.
Venni had no shame about her feelings for him. No one else suspected, besides maybe the Wolf and if he did, he did not let that stop him from allowing her to be a part of his life. She often entertained the thought that a large source of his pain was that his heart was caught between two women.
He did not know it but his treatment of Venni had created a monster. One that grew bolder with each passing day.
Today, that boldness reached its peak.
Venni knocked firmly at the door, her knuckles on the polished wood echoing loudly throughout the hall. In her ears, blood thundered.
She heard him. His voice was muffled behind the thickness of the door but it was clear he had allowed her entrance. She turned the door handle slowly. The handle felt cool and smooth in her hand, its features lost and undetectable at the tips of her nerves. Such a feeling brought her out of her thoughts and grounded her in the physical world.
“Here are the reports you requested,” she said, closing the distance between the doorway and the lavish desk he sat behind. She was no expert but that desk of his, polished and carved from a wood she did not recognize, was ancient. He had made no mention of where he found it. But behind it, he sat in all his mighty glory. The window behind him threw in light to make him appear as if he was glowing. His usual armor had been traded in for a simple wool tunic, a pair of grey breeches, and foot wrappings. Despite his casual dress, he was still glorious.
Her breath faltered.
The Wolf motioned to a spot on the desk that was clear. “Thank you, Venni. Place them there. I will review them later.” he said, voice like silk.
She did as instructed but lingered. “I thought you should know,” she began, meeting his grey eyes, “A few of our agents in Orlais have gone silent.”
He frowned and steepled his fingers. “Hm. How long have they been silent?” he asked.
“Swiftfoot and Jolly have been silent for over a month. Their missions were delicate, so we assumed they were merely deep in cover and could not contact us. But it does not seem that way anymore.”
His brow furrowed. The Wolf inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes. He was growing tense again, she could feel it. Ever since she’d first met him, first signed onto the cause, she could always feel the magical energy crackling around him, too powerful to be contained by the flesh. This energy often shifted with his emotions. She wondered if he was aware of this.
“Thank you,” he finally said. He waved his hand dismissively. “You are free to go.”
But she did not move. She stayed rooted where she was for a moment, contemplating acting on her intuition or not. They were often alone but he was rarely this...rattled.
“Am I?” she asked.
He looked up, his steely eyes narrowing in confusion. “You have freedom here, Veneal. You are at liberty to use it,” he said, his words unsure.
She moved closer to his desk, her steps slow and calculated. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The words lingered at the back of her throat but she could not say them. Oh, how they wanted to come out. They needed to come out.
“I-” she began. She blushed.
The Wolf stood from his chair, the creaking of its wood and the scratch of its legs across the stone enough of a real stimulus to ground herself on. “Is everything alright?” he asked. The look he gave her was strange. A mixture of concern and caution.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to leave.” she whispered.
Realization dawned on him in that moment. Instead of shook, his eyes held a knowing she couldn’t possibly understand. “We’re doing this?” he spoke lowly.
She ignored him and persisted in her efforts. “I love you, Solas. I don’t know for how long but I do. I feel lost without you. I hate being away from you. I hate seeing what... she does to you.” Venni said, her words pouring out of her like blood from an open vessel.
He could not look at her. His eyes fell on everything but her. There was nothing in them, at least, nothing she could read. Panic began to set in. Her palms grew clammy, her pace of breathing increased, her heart-rate spiked. But she couldn’t stop. She had opened a dam and there was no hope of closing it off until everything came flooding out. She had no concern for if there was damage caused. All she knew was that she had to release this pressure inside of her.
“I could make you happy, Solas. So happy.” she continued, “I know you feel something for me. You treat me with such kindness, kindness I’ve never seen you practice with anyone else. I’ve been your loyal servant this entire time. I would do anything for you.”
Tears she was not aware she had been conjuring began to fall. Their source was a mystery. It was entirely likely that the emotions she felt were just so intense she could not handle them. It was as equally likely she sensed she was not getting through to him, that he did not reciprocate those feelings.
Her words were cut off by a harsh press of his lips to hers. His lips were not at all what she expected. Instead of inviting warmth, they were cold and chapped. Tasting of tea leaves and the earth. Before she could even react, melt into him and live in his warmth, he had pulled back. He made a show of dragging his tunic sleeve across his parted lips, trying his hardest to wipe all trace of her away. She thought he was about to spit when he surprised her by swallowing roughly.
“I don’t want a servant,” he said, his voice bordering on unkind, “I want an equal. I want someone who does not dare describe herself as a servant of mine, for I have none.”
She blinked. She was in utter shock. Words evaded her for a time.
But she found them. “Why...why kiss me if yo-”
“Leave. Now.” he commanded, softly.
She blinked away the last of her tears. Closed her gaping mouth. And left.
Venni’s timing was phenomenal. He should’ve expected as much. Solas had known for some time that she harbored feelings for him, but he never thought she’d strike up the courage to confess to him. He underestimated her and he was ashamed. Not that he could not reciprocate but that he was so unnerved by it. And of how he acted.
In truth, she could not have confessed to him at a more vulnerable time than this. Intel suggested that the Qunari were planning some type of preliminary invasion and the Inquisition, more specifically the Inquisitor, stood on the brink of destruction. His head was full of all sorts of things but his thoughts would always trace back to Faen. She had to know and he’d spent the past few days carefully constructing just how she would know all this, ways that removed him from the picture. The longer he pondered the situation, the more he was convinced that fate demanded he be the one to intervene and reveal himself to her. The thought terrified him and filled him with a strong sense of yearning for a reunion in equal measure. This would be a true reunion, not some irrational, poorly thought out attempt to lay eyes on her again.
His days were filled with thoughts of what he would say, how he would construct his sentences and select his words. He could not rush his explanation of things. On top of that, there were several reports indicating that the Inquisitor’s mark was finally becoming unstable. This worried him immensely. Without direct intervention, he was certain Faen would die and he could not stand the thought.
But then Venni decided to pull her little stunt, metaphorically spill her guts all over the floor, and expect him to...what? Reciprocate those feelings? Sweep her up and make love to her there? But he had to scold himself. He had kissed her, he was the one who initiated that. Even his own reasonings for the kiss were an enigma to him.
He sat there, laid out across the small cot he used as a bed, and thought about why he did it. Venni’s appointment as his top agent was not mistake. Of course, she had enormous merit and there was cause to make her his first. But her likeness to Faen...both women were deceptively small, both had undeniable skill with a blade, both had those rosy lips that would part subconsciously. Only Faen could drive him crazy. Venni was a weak attempt to echo what he had lost. Their differences were too stark, his heart to devoted to the Inquisitor. He attributed the kiss to an extreme desire to relive a moment with Faen. Kissing Venni was a far cry from Faen though. Venni’s lips were soft but they lacked the warmth and minty sweetness of Faen’s. Faen would melt into his kisses, her body seemingly overcome with the desire to be overcome. But she would always bounce back and take control, either with a bite or the inclusion of tongue.
There was a moment when he recalled what he had said to Venni, just before he dismissed her. I want an equal. Faen was his equal in every regard. She was contradictory to the elves who played in the woods with husks of traditions they did not understand. Contradictory to the sad elves who dwelled in dirty cities. In the beginning, she was one of them. Now...she was so much more.
Despite his respect for Venni, he did not see her the way he saw Faen. Venni was, as she willingly described, a servant. Faen would never dare describe herself as anything other than someone supervised by their own will. And he admired that greatly.
What had she once said? I need not a higher power, for I find it in myself? He thought on that often. People controlled by the will of others rarely had the courage to own up to their actions. He was ashamed of his actions in the past but he was owning up to fix them. Placing responsibility on his shoulders and his shoulders alone for a mess he made. This was something they discussed at length, though far more guarded and censored than he cared for, on numerous occasions.
He closed his eyes, snaked his hand down his bare abdomen, and paused when he reached the hem of his trousers. It was at this point Faen would always look up at him with those dark eyes, a question of may I? stewing in their depths. He always offered her a smile and cupped her rosy cheek, to which she would nuzzle into his hand. That was his consent, no words needed.
He dipped his hands below the hemline, his hand finding his hard cock and grasping it firmly. Solas thought back to one of his favorite moments of passion with Faen.
She takes his cock into her mouth, her raspberry stained lips engulfing his member up until she can no longer take it. Her eyes are wide and gazing up at him with all the love in the world. Her right hand securely grasps the base of his cock, her left slowly pumping the wooden rod in and out of her soft, soaking heat. Normally, they would not resort to using toys. But they have run out of the herbs required to make the Brew that wards off pregnancy and neither one is willing to take that risk.
Solas gives a solid pump of his fist, starting from the base of his manhood all the way up to the bulbous tip. A drop of precum leaks out from the head.
Faen is shy - he knows this. Too much direct and intense eye contact and she looks away. His misses the gaze they held but that feeling of longing is replaced by the sensation of her tongue lazily rolling around the head of his cock. He moans and throws his head back. His hands creep into her hair, the silky curls between his fingers heightening the pleasure. Solas can hear the faint sounds of the rod pumping in and out of her and he has to restrain himself from violently fucking her face. Oh, how he wishes that were his cock nestled between her thighs, not some skinny toy.
His cock pops out from between her lips, a thin string of saliva connecting his member to her lips. “I love you, Solas,” she whispers, breathless.
He smiles fondly at her. “ Ar lath ma, vhenan. ” he returns.
She is clearly pleased, as she takes him back into her mouth and returns to her previous task of drawing him to a finish. He moves his hips, slowly to allow her to become adjusted to his movements. The fingers of her right hand press into his groin. He trembles.
“Such a skilled mouth my vhenan has,” he purrs, smirking when he sees a tremble of her own slide down her back.
One swift move and she’s taken him to the base of his cock, the tip of her nose pressed firmly up against his pubic crest. She’s so close he can feel the flit of her long eyelashes on his abdomen. He groans. He’s proud of her. Solas has spent the past few months molding her, shaping her to fit his and her own sexual desires. Under his tutelage, she’s become quite proficient. Still, she occasionally has no idea what she’s doing. It’s not something he would fix. Her stumbles and innocence are not inherently undesirable.
Faen remains still for a moment, allowing the confines of her throat to service him like her mouth would. When she can no longer take it, she pulls back and gasps for air.
Solas’s hips are bucking wildly into his hand. How he wishes it were her mouth. At this pace, he will be sure to cum all too soon. He slows his hips, begging his body for the chance to let the memory run its course.
“I’m about to cum,” she whimpers, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Faen’s pleasure always moved her to tears.
He halted his hips, rolled her head back in his hand, and closed his eyes. The formulation for the spell appeared behind his closed lids. Once the spell was completed, he moved the energy from his aura and into her own, gliding down her body until it reached the spot he so desired. The look on her face went from one of complete surrender to one of utter bliss. The moans that fell from her mouth were sinful and did things to him. He felt her cries at the base of his cock all the way up to the swollen head. It pulsated deep within him and it needed release.
Solas tightened his grip on her head and crammed his cock down her throat once more, giving a sigh of relief when he was once again entombed in her throat. She was whimpering and whining around him, the vocalizations sending vibrations through his sensitive member.
He looked down at the pool form between her thighs. He wished he could lap it up, drink up the nectar of her cunt like cool wine on a hot day. He knew what the spell was doing to the toy inside her - vibrating it rapidly to the point where her nerves were no doubt on fire with stimulation.
A few minutes of his rapid thrusting later and she shuddered violently, her body fluid moment and stiff as a board the next. She moaned with abandon into his cock, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks.
“ Garas, da’len.” he urges.
She unravels completely, her hips bucking madly in the attempt to seek out friction and something more. Her urge is primal. Her body sought something from the rapid contractions of her cunt and it saddened him that he could not provide her with it. Well...he would soon enough but not where her body craved it.
The wooden toy clattered to the floor, her cunt having rejected it after it could no longer provide what she needed.
He knew he ought to go easy on her, let up on the speed, but the sudden urge to cum overcame him with animal ferocity. His thrusts, once controlled and regulated, were now erratic and reckless. With one final thrust, he spilled himself all down her throat.
“Faen!” he cried, holding her head still.
“Faen!” he echoed in the present.
His seed spilled from the tip of his cock, shooting out in thick, hot ropes all over his abdomen. The pleasure blinded him. Solas lost all track of time and even lost his sense of self. When he came down from his high, his breath returning to him and his senses regaining their composure, he relaxed. His mind went to cleaning up his mess.
Faen would take care of that, if she were here.
He growled at himself. He could not think like that.
For a time, his guilt was immense. He could not escape it no matter how hard he rationalized using the memory of her to pleasure himself. Many times did he step into her dreams and find her using those same memories to satisfy herself. Still, he felt wrong. And he missed her, oh, he missed her. What was once a healing hole in his heart was now a burning one.
Venni heard everything. She’d been positioned outside his door for the past half-hour, listening to his moans and finally, the calling of her name.
She had come to apologize for her earlier outburst but now…
Venni turned away from the door and silently trotted back to her own room, more determined than ever.
She threw the door open, startling the other agents she shared a room with. She ignored them, stormed past them to get to her things. A few of her belongings, clothes and necessities, were thrown into a bag.
“Where are you going?” Taveth, the elven mage she shared a bunk with, asked.
She threw the bag over her shoulder.
“To visit an old friend.”