Summary: 'Don't be alone with her', he tells himself, 'for you know where it will lead.'

'I should just tell you to leave, 'cos I, know exactly where it leads but I, watch us go round and round each time.' - Taylor Swift, 'Style', the musical inspiration for this one. That one line.


Where it Will Lead

Solas was always extremely careful to mostly avoid situations in which he would be completely alone with her. For he knew where it would lead.

He would not lay with her under false pretences. But he was so sorely tempted, hence it was best to minimize the opportunity.

Never go up to her chambers, not after the last time (ar lath ma, vhenan); she had to come to him, and the library was thankfully (disappointingly) never empty. Take meals in the great hall, or in the rotunda. Don't stray too far from the rest of the party as they travel. Take walks together only in communal areas. Don't be alone with her.

Yet sometimes it could not be helped. They'd shared a tent previously of course, but that was before he told her he loved her. Now sharing a sleeping space took on different dimensions. He would usually share with Varric, or Cole, or Blackwall. She would share with anyone, so there was never this much of a fuss. But no, Dorian wanted to share with the Iron Bull, and Lavellan could never deny her best friend anything.

"You don't mind, do you Solas?"

He had to admit, in this particular party he was limited in options. And he didn't want Lavellan to know he was avoiding her, in a sense.

"Not at all, lethallan."

He would have to keep his guard up tonight.

That proved even more difficult than he anticipated. She got undressed in front of him, for one thing, entirely unashamed with her nudity. He did his best to keep his eyes off her and concentrated on changing into his own sleeping attire; a pair of loose, soft cotton pants and a simple undershirt. While she simply threw on an oversized shirt and was done with it. Then, she flopped face down onto her bedroll, stretching out long, bare legs and snuggling into the pillow, her hair unbound and fanning out above her head.

It was going to be a long night.

He tried to read, but found he couldn't focus on the words in the slightest, and gave up in moments. With a wave of his hand he extinguished the candle next to him. He lay on his back and just breathed, keeping his mind carefully blank; meditating, focusing on the sound of his breathing, the feel of each slow inhale and exhale.

He could hear her breathing.

It was slow and soft, barely making any sound at all. It was mesmerizing. If he listened hard enough, perhaps he could even hear her heartbeat...thrumming in her chest. He imagined placing a palm over it, between her breasts. Sliding his hand down, over a taut stomach, to the waistband of her small clothes. Her breath would hitch deliciously as he dipped his fingers underneath, searching curiously for that telling wetness...

Solas inhaled through his nose sharply when she touched him. She'd shifted closer in the dark, and placed a hand on his chest lightly, pressing her legs against the side of his. For just a second he thought he was in the Fade, fallen asleep to the comforting lull of his fantasies, and this was one of those dreams; those dreams he had shamefully (gratifyingly) often. But then she spoke, and he knew it was her, warm and solid and so very real.

"I can't sleep." Her lips brushed his jaw as she whispered, and he found his arm snaking under her body to hold her waist. 'You must try vhenan', he meant to say, alongside a justification about needing rest and long, hard days of travelling and fighting ahead.

Instead, lowly, teasing, "That simply will not do."

He could feel her smile against his skin, mischievous and playful, and her hand wandered; at the same time she threw a bare leg across his and pressed a slow, wet kiss behind his ear. A triple assault.

He knew what she wanted.

In the dark and quiet it seemed so easy to give in; so far removed from the world. Here in this moment there was just her, him, and the longing ache in their bodies. He could only just make out her slight, elegant curves in the darkness as she raised herself onto her knees, admired the way she moved as she straddled his hips. He swallowed harshly, his hands resting on her thighs. He would have to find the will to end this soon, before it went too far. You knew where this would lead. She leaned down and kissed him, and it was delectably hot and languid. Her skin was soft and very warm under his firm hands; they wandered to cup her backside and squeezed gently. A small sound of pleasure caught in her throat, and he had to remind himself to breathe. She too took the opportunity to come up for air, but kept their faces very close as she rolled her hips against his experimentally. The friction made him gasp quietly. His arousal was obvious, as was his apprehension, apparently. For she kissed him again, briefly, sweetly, reassuring.

"Vhenan..." He should tell her to stop. Then, she took his hand and guided it between her legs, exhaling softly when he touched her.

Oh. His fingers came away slick. Her mouth was on his neck, trailing kisses up to the sensitive tip of his ear, where she licked and sucked, and he struggled to keep his groans quiet. He pressed his fingers firmer against her core, and relished in the low, throaty sounds near his ear.

Stop this now.

Would pleasuring her be such a bad thing? He could bring her to completion with his fingers, right now. And that would be the end of it. But she would want to reciprocate. And then he'd want more; fenedhis, there were so many more ways he'd like to have her. He could quite easily spend the rest of the night with his face buried between her thighs and his mouth and tongue kissing, licking, tasting-

With a surge of newfound strength, Solas grabbed her hips and lifted her off him, rolling them over swiftly. Lavellan gasped and clutched at him in surprise that did not last long; she pulled at him, eager to bring him back to her.

He would have none of it.

"No, vhenan." He admonished, not unkindly. Lavellan let out a fiercely disappointed huff that he could empathize with perfectly. They lay quietly for a short moment before her hand came up to caress his cheek.

"Can I ask why?"

He wished she wouldn't. He didn't know what to say. It was utterly wrong to lay with her when she didn't know who he truly was, but he could hardly tell her that.

"Do you...not want me that way? That's okay, some people just don't care for sex. I don't mind. I still love you."

Bless you, you sweet, understanding soul. You beautiful, marvellous spirit. It was a convenient excuse, and she offered it to him freely, if unwittingly. But it was too far from the truth for his liking.

"It's not that." He told her gently, "I just...am not used to such intimacy. I am not entirely comfortable with it. I have been alone for a long time..." She traced the shape of his lips with her fingertip, halting his speech.

"It's okay. I understand. I can wait, as long as you need. Don't worry." She spoke in hushed whispers, and he relaxed, smiling softly.

"Thank you." He kissed her chastely, and she smiled back. They bedded down properly, combining their bedrolls and ending up with a veritable mountain of blankets and furs. She giggled delightfully as they were buried in a soft, warm cocoon. He held her close and pressed his face to her hair, "Sleep, vhenan. I shall meet you in the Fade."

They had little trouble falling asleep then.


The few times your Inquisitor ever seems to be truly alone with their love interest is when they steal romance moments, and sometimes (most of the time, let's be real) not even then.

Solas-mancers get to actually be alone with him in the Fade, when he kisses you on your balcony, and when he takes you to the glen in Crestwood. That's it. The rest of the time he hangs in suspiciously communal areas. This is my head-canon reasoning for that.

This wasn't meant to be the next one, by the way, but inspiration struck. Oh well. Third person subjective Solas is hard to write. I hope I did okay.

- LaWren