Ghanima smiled from across the room, her heart beating faster with every breath, every step. She could see Solas grinning, a smirk really, smug as always. She could see through it, clear as glass and just as fragile. Her dress was exquisite and horribly evil for such a gather as this. She didn’t care, never had. Let them stare at her like a meal waiting to be consumed. No one could touch her, temptation be damned. Vivienne had approved of it immediately, knowing full well what would, and wouldn’t, happen. The fabric was completely sheer, open in the back all the way down to just above her buttocks, the front a near mirror copy. The material flowed smooth as wind over her skin, falling to the floor. Hand-painted flowers in blue and white just barely covered the necessities, preserving what little modesty was to be had with the gown. The straps at the top held in place but carefully made knots, the strings decorated with beads and fabric flowers, the full length of them falling to nearly her waist.
All around her she could hear people whispering, their masks doing nothing to hide their hunger. Her sharp hearing picked up the conversations with ease. A few daring others to pull on the strings, make the dress fall. Others speaking about stepping on the hem, see if the dress will tear. Men and women calling her the usual terms used for elves. She smiled at them, holding their gaze a moment longer than necessary.
She hated each and every one of them. That’s what made this so enjoyable. They had to smile. She’s the Inquisitor, the most powerful and influential person alive. The fact she’s an elf was icing on the cake.
One step, another, Ghanima moved across the room towards Solas. He did the same, his gaze moving over her. His hunger was evident and hardly held in check. He licked his lips when his eyes met hers. The crowd parted, giving enough room for her move with ease. Meeting in the middle Solas grabbed her waist hard, pulling her close as his other hand took hers. She place her free hand on his shoulder and let him lead her over the floor. The music picked up, loud and smooth.
Solas leaned close to her ear and whisper, “if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re a Desire demon.”
“You mean spirit of Purpose?”
“If your purpose is to make walking difficult for me, you’ve achieved it.”
“It’s a nice side benefit.”
He pulled back and chuckled, “indeed, it is.” Solas spun her, the dress shifting just enough to tease but not satisfy. “There may not be much left of the dress later.”
“By fire or hands?”
“May I suggest both?”
“Indeed, but I’d rather the dress remain intact.”
He spun her again, pulled her in tight, his hand tight on her hip. “I make no promises.”
Ghanima shifted just enough to make him moan before she kissed his neck. “No fire; I like the fabric too much to permit that.”
“Hands it is.”
They continued this way as they danced. Sweat dripped down Ghanima’s back and chest, the dress clinging tighter, the painted parts hardly more than decoration on the skin anymore. Solas met her, step for step, leading her at the pace she set, never slowing. They didn’t notice anyone joining them on the dance floor, or at least feigned ignorance. She was sin, and Solas bent to her. Sharp teeth met his neck, leaving visibly red marks. No one could hear his moans, see his frustration through his well-honed control. They could hear her laughter, the tease and cruelty she didn’t bother to hide.
Ghanima could hear them sigh with relief when she and Solas left the dance floor. No doubt Josephine would lecture her later, that Vivienne would give praise, Dorian a cruel laugh when he spoke of what happened when they exited the room. Varric would have enough material for a full book, and Cassandra would no doubt enjoy reading it.
What happened to the dress is anyone’s guess. It was never seen again.
A couple comments made me happy enough to write chapter two. Shall there be a chapter three?
Ghanima’s dress clung to her like a second skin, sweat soaked and entirely transparent now. Solas made no secret of what he wanted to do, lustful hunger radiated off him. The crowded parted quickly, as though relieved to see them go. Ghanima in the lead, Solas close behind watching her walk with such pride and confidence. That extra sway in her hips, the way she held her head high and back straight, daring anyone to speak a word about her. He smiled as he walked past them, elongated canines on display. No doubt she did the same, a smile and threat in the same breath.
There were no secrets, the way the dress held to her. Ever scar, every mark of her tattoos, the lines separating the flesh that saw the sun and that which knew the night, all on display and untouchable until the door closed behind them. He followed her, wanting nothing more than to burn the dress away, but he held himself in check. She wants to keep the dress and keep it she shall, if only in pieces.
She looked over her shoulder as she opened the door to her room, invitation in her eyes. A flick of her fingers had the fireplace roaring to life, bringing light and warmth to the cold room. As she made to release the knots holding the dress up Solas came forward, grabbing her wrists.
“Allow me.” Knots be damned, he ripped the fabric off her body in one clean stroke, bend to his knee to bring the dress down. She didn’t make to move from where she stood, teasing him all the more. “May I burn the dress?” He remained where he was, looking up at her and loving the view.
“No, but you may strip out of your clothes, or would you rather I burn them?” She turn then, facing him, eyes bright with power.
“If memory serves, I do have other clothes I can wear. Burn these.”
She stepped out of the puddle of torn fabric and kicked it way before her hands touched his face. “Thank you.”
She brought his face down to hers and kissed him as her hands moved down, leaving a path of burned fabric in their wake. Over his arms, his chest, and to the floor the shirt fell in blackened pieces. Her hands released his belt, her lips leaving his as she kissed a trail down his neck, biting sharply over the present marks. He winced and moaned in the same breath. Down his chest and further still, biting him just enough to keep him focused on her. He could feel her hands over his thighs and the belt fall away as his trousers burned and fell apart.
“Look at me.”
He could his blood on her lips as she licked them, her sharp bites having broken skin. She licked her lips clean, her dark hands resting lightly on his thighs, bright eyes dark with lust.
“Touch me when you get close, and not a moment sooner.”
Solas nodded wordlessly, his breath caught hard in his chest. Her hand slid up his thighs, nails dragging in the manner he’d come to love. One hand cupped his balls, warm and gentle, the other held firm at the base of his erection as she took him into her mouth, lips drown in to cover her teeth. His toes curled, the joints popping. He had nothing to hold onto, no chair, no wall, only himself.
Her tongue moved back and forth as she slid him ever deeper, pressing him to the roof of her mouth before humming as she pulled back. Stroke after stroke, humming the very song that had begun their dance downstairs. Then a spark from the hand cupping his balls brought him back, more alert, challenging him. A game he loved and hated, never sure how much he could take before he had to touch her. She sucked, hard, breathing through her nose, never loosening here grip on him with her mouth. What words came from him he didn’t know. All he knew was that watching her made this all the more difficult. He dug his hands into the back of his neck, then over his head, just something because it was getting to be too much. Another spark drew a sharp breath and forced his hand. She stopped, slid him gently from mouth, her free hand teasing him as she look up, the other letting loose another spark before she released him entirely. Ghanima rose to her feet, looking satisfied with her work and too proud of the results.
“You are a cruel woman.”
“Would you have me any other way?” A challenge.
“Yes.” He cupped her face and kissed her, soft, gentle, his tongue teasing her lips, her own meeting his in a soft dance before he pulled back. “May I?”
“Tell me what you want first.”
He could smell her heat, her want. “You bent over, hips high with pillows beneath them, me sliding deep inside you.”
She kissed him again, “On one condition.”
“Don’t hold back. I won’t break.”
“As my lady commands.”
Solas set the pillows high before Ghanima bent over them, her head resting on her arms. It was only a moment of anticipation before she felt his mouth on her, licking firmly, tasting her deeply before twisting his tongue around and down. Then it was his tongue but his lips, taking her in his mouth as he flicked his tongue over and around her clit. Her hands twisted in the silk blanket beneath her as she moaned with her pleasure. Around and up again, his tongue pressed into her, then down. Her toes curled and she made move herself back against him to match his rhythm, but then he stopped and pulled his mouth away.
“Move and I stop.” Ghanima could feel his smile against her flesh.
“Cruel.” He nipped her, making her jump, before he kissed the bite. Then she rested her head back on her arms and waited.
His mouth took her again, warm and welcome. No teeth, only tongue and lips. He moaned nearly as load as she, massaging her flesh with his hands as his mouth did the same between her legs. No words came from her lips, only breath coming faster and moans pitching louder. She shook with the effort not to move, more so when he slid his thumbs so close to his mouth. Sweat ran down her back to her neck as her climax came ever closer. The familiar tingle began in her toes and then her hands, sliding towards her hips, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Down her spine and up her legs. Solas didn’t cease, focused entirely on her reaching that moment. From her spine and legs to her hips the ends met and brought Ghanima to her own. Breath would not come, nor could thought. Never stopping he carried her through the orgasm and further, until she was shaking and limp and the smell of burned silk met his senses. He kissed one thigh, then the other before standing.
“Are you satisfied?” Arrogance radiated from his voice.
It took a moment, perhaps two, before Ghanima could speak. “Not yet.”
“What will it take to satisfy you, ma vhenan?”
“Fuck me and don’t set wards around us.”
“The guests may be frightened.” Solas took hold of her hips again.
“They can fuck themselves.” Ghanima pressed back against him.
“That they shall.” He fully sheathed himself in her in one firm thrust. A low moan filled his chest as he fill her.
“Oh…” It was all she could manage before he set the pace, rotating his hips up as he slid in, pulling him against her. Ghanima’s voice keened, her moans growing louder as her sensitive flesh was stimulated yet again. “Faster!” Ghanima rocked with each thrust of his hips against her, his hands the only thing keeping her from sliding forward on the burning blanket.
Ash and sweat mixed on her forearms and hands, the scent of it lost to her as she moved within her. Solas’s hands grew colder, the ice melting against the heat of Ghanima’s body. Frost crawled over the floor and bed as quickly as the flames grew and withered over the blanket. He ground his teeth together, pushing her further and holding himself back just a little longer, just enough. Her sweat froze and melted where his hands gripped her. He could feel shaking beneath and around him, making it ever more difficult to hold his own climax back.
“Harder. Please…please, Solas.” Her voice was hardly more than a raw whimper.
He obliged, groaning and growling, eyes closed and focus sharp as he could manage.
The scent of ozone mixed with sex filled the room just as Ghanima’s sudden silence marked her oncoming orgasm. He didn’t slow. She tightened around him, over and over, her pleasure running over him and down her legs. Solas allowed himself to follow, his rhythm stuttering as the heat of his own pleasure ran down his spine and between his legs, tightening before the release. With one last thrust he spilled himself inside her.
“Mmmm…” It was all Ghanima could manage as Solas bent over and his her back, never breaking the connection between them.
“We need to replace the blanket.” He kissed her shoulder. “Possibly the pillows as well.” He kissed her other shoulder. “Are you satisfied now, ma vhenan?”
He pulled from her with reluctance. His mana drained and body exhaust he lay down beside Ghanima. “We shall need a bath. There are ashes all over us.”
“I can’t feel my legs.” Ghanima giggled, opening her eyes lazily to look at Solas. “How much damage did we cause?”
“No idea, but I believe Dorian set up wards after we left the dance floor.” He chuckled.
“When are we calling for a bath?”
“I believe it would be wise to wait until we’re capable of walking without falling.”
My first fic in six months. Please be kind with the commentary.