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They are gathered around a large table, Wicked Grace cards strewn across the surface. Varric is already red-faced from the mug of ale he has been taking large gulps of since they began and his usual belly laugh is twice as loud as normal.
Next to him is the Inquisitor Trevelyan, who is shaking her head fondly at Varric's rambunctious, drunken demeanor. Solas notices that while there is a mug in front of her, not one drop has been drained. No doubt Varric had put it there, though in his inebriated state he forgot that she doesn't drink alcohol. It messes with her magic, as she has claimed when questioned.
Solas is seated parallel to the Inquisitor where he has a full view of her face, listening in on her enthralling conversation she's having with Lady Montilyet, complete with dramatic gesticulations. Lady Montilyet is rather flushed herself and has her hands slapped across her mouth, eyes widened with horror.
He raises an eyebrow at a particularly loud guffaw from the far right side of the table, but continues to contemplate his next move when he suddenly feels a warm, hand-shaped pressure press down on his knee. He is seated at the edge of the table where no one can reach him, so he can only deduce that it is some sort of magic at play.
The phantom hand caresses his knee with gentle fingers until it begins to move upwards to his inner thigh, small circles being drawn on his leggings, feeling like it's scorching through the cloth to his skin. Solas swallows down a lump in his throat, attempting to keep his emotions at bay, though he is aware of the flush spreading across his cheeks.
He eyes the people surrounding the table, automatically picking out those that are not capable of any kind of magic and is left with Dorian, Inquisitor Trevelyan, Vivienne, and of course, himself.
Dorian is a flirt, yes, but he has never shown any indication of attraction towards Solas - that goes solely to the burly Iron Bull, who currently has his arm wrapped around the back of Dorian's neck, an enormous hand clutching at his own mug as he laughs jovially at one of Dorian's innuendos.
Vivienne is a monogamous woman and Solas knows that her heart lies with her late lover, Duke Bastien de Ghislain. Considering her disdain for him and all apostates, it is highly unlikely that the magic curling around his leg is hers.
That leaves the Inquisitor, who is currently a little too interested in the cards between her fingers.
Solas watches as she mumbles a distracted reply to something Lady Montilyet has said to her and as her gaze lifts from her cards, she makes eye contact with Solas. A blush colors her cheeks as her eyes quickly dart back down to her cards, her lips twitching as she tries to keep a grin from appearing.
Oh, he can play that game.
She's a human! His traitorous mind tells him, but he can't bring himself to care, not when her warm, warm essence continues to travel up his leg, so close to where he needs her.
Fen'Harel would be revolted by her blatant actions, actions towards an elvhen god.
Solas the apostate, however, is relishing them.
He concentrates his magic within him until it reaches his fingers and lets it flow out from them, keeping his gaze on the Inquisitor, no, Ariadne, until he feels her muscled thigh under his fingertips. Her head snaps up and she looks at Solas, eyes widened in surprise.
The phantom hand surrounding his own thigh begins to falter as he pushes his magic further up, up, and up. Ariadne lets out a shuddery sigh and squirms slightly in her seat, fingers tightening on her cards as she attempts to pay attention to what is going on in the game.
Solas can feel the heat radiating from between her legs, almost as if his actual hand is hovering above, waiting to delve inside and discover what is hidden.
He licks his suddenly dry lips and is painfully aware of his cock beginning to press up against his leggings, aroused just by her reactions and from her own touching earlier.
He is surprised to find that she is not wearing anything underneath her own leggings - leggings that he has noticed in the past that positively cling to her curves, curves he has longed to touch, to explore - and finds curly, coarse hair on her mound that he is not familiar with, but is not all that repulsed by, considering elves are almost completely hairless.
As his fingers dip inside her folds, he hears a hitch in her breath as he begins to explore, dipping one fingertip inside and rubbing his thumb in small circles on her clit.
His cock twitches in its confines as he hears a swallowed down moan nearly escape her lips. Her own magic has all but dissipated, her body concentrating on what his own magic is doing to her.
"Alright there, Ari?" Blackwall says suddenly. The rest of the occupants of the table are also looking at her with concern. Solas is not concerned.
"O-Oh yeah, I'm fine," she replies and to her credit, her voice is not shaking. "It's just a little hot in here, is all."
Blackwall immediately gets up to open the door to the tavern a crack. Ariadne flashes a grateful smile at Blackwall and he blushes, nearly missing the chair as he sits down.
Solas chuckles along with the rest of the group, but feels a sharp pang in his chest when he catches Ariadne wink at Blackwall.
Irrational jealousy towards a human for a human.
When the group's attention is back on the game at hand, and to combat this intrusive thought, he sends two phantom fingers up her cunt and she gasps, whipping her head towards Solas and staring at him. He watches with satisfaction as her eyelids flutter as he curls his fingers inside her, his thumb still making circles on her nub.
He can see his name forming on her lips and the flutter of her walls around him so he quickly withdraws his digits, bringing his physical ones up to his mouth and sucking on them.
He can almost taste her.
Solas knows she's upset, what with the way she's scowling at him and the way her breasts are heaving up and down with labored breaths, but he is filled with nothing but pride that he has been able to do this to her.
oOo
It had taken some time, but the game of Wicked Grace ended with Cullen getting naked when he had drunkenly, albeit foolishly made a bet with Varric that he could win and had whined that everyone turn around so he could make a dash for his tower with no clothes in hand; Ariadne had taken care of that by hiding his clothes behind the bar.
The absolute joy in the air was intoxicating, what with the seemingly impending doom, and Solas was nothing but gleeful as he made his way back to his rotunda, keen on spending the last couple hours of the night painting.
What he wasn't expecting was a rather attractive human female waiting for him, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently on the ground.
"Is there something I can do for you?" Solas says pleasantly, making his way over to his table where his brushes and paint are. He hears a huff from behind him and he laughs under his breath.
"Yes, actually. What the hell was that back there?" Her tone is flat and Solas is trying very hard not to grin.
He turns his head to look at her, feigning surprise. "I am not sure what you mean, Inquisitor."
"Don't 'Inquisitor' me, Solas!" she spits, taking a step closer. He turns to face her fully now, very much aware of their similar height and how close they are.
He very much wants to kiss her.
"You can't just nearly make me come and then just stop!" Solas' eyes widen as he looks up, hoping that no one has heard her outburst.
"My lady, I don't think you want people hearing you say things like that," he says smoothly.
She snorts. "Pretty sure everyone is aware of what transpired at that table tonight, thanks to you."
"From what I remember, Inquisitor, you were the one that made the first move." His voice has come out more harsh that he has intended and he can see that it has an effect on her.
"I-" she falters, the fire dying in her eyes and she takes a step back.
This wasn't the intended reaction he wanted from her, so he pushes against his inner voice screaming at him to stop and he lifts her chin up with his fingertips.
"I am not angry, Ariadne." she blushes prettily as he uses her given name and he really, really wants to kiss her.
"If you must know," he begins, voice pitched lower, "I enjoyed it all immensely."
He's caressing her face now with gentle fingers, his thumb moving over the silkiness of her bottom lip. He has taken a step forward and is aware of the curve of her body flush against his.
His erection has returned full force now and it comes as no surprise when Ariadne suddenly squeaks and jerks back, having been in a trance-like state. Solas regretfully lets his hand drop down to his side.
"You hold no fondness for humans," she accuses.
And she is right.
"You are correct," Solas says truthfully. "But you are unlike anyone I have ever known. I cannot pretend as though I am not attracted to you - not anymore."
"Show me, then."