I’m so sorry my hand slipped. @nipuni I hope Nalia isn’t too ooc haha I tried
Nalia was often fond of stealing his sweater. To be fair, it was quite easy to do. And Solas had no qualms with seeing her in it. The smell of her lingered in the fabric long after he coaxed it back from her - there was no stealing it away, he learned; she would only return it when she pleased.
It was no surprise, then, that he woke to find her wearing it again. He must have thrown it off in the middle of the night, when the combined heat of her body and his own made him too uncomfortable to sleep with it on. It was a regular occurrence. She would often wake before him and when he arose he would take a long moment to enjoy the sight of her before beginning the game of retrieving his clothing.
Nalia hadn’t noticed him yet. She leaned against her desk with an apple in one hand and a book in the other, engrossed in the page, skin soft in the morning light. His eyes slid to the slit in the fabric, perfectly placed to reveal her bare hip. The exact spot had seen the touch of his lips on many occasion, though never enough for his liking.
Solas swallowed. It was too early to think such things.
“Good morning,” he said, throwing aside the blankets and sitting up to see her properly.
Nalia looked up at him. She smiled. It was a smile worth waking for, warm and subtle and full of her love.
“Sleep well?” she teased.
He stood, feet cold on stone, and joined her at the desk to give a kiss to those lips he admired. “When I sleep beside you, always.”
She shook her head but did not deny him. He watched her place the half-eaten apple back on the food tray and saunter away. The sweater shifted with each step, revealing the slope of her ass. Whether the tease was intentional or not he could not say. He would not complain.
“Nalia.” He drew his eyes up to her golden hair as she opened one of the balcony doors to let the cool Ferelden air in.
“Hm?” She glanced at him, innocence in her stance and mischief in her eyes. So the game began.
“May I have my sweater?” He already felt the cold air on his nipples and creeping up his spine.
She thought on it for a moment then said no. She always said no the first time. Her smile asked him to play, so he did. He would remember these games fondly when it was over. Far be it from him to refuse the chance for another sweet memory when there were so precious few of them.
He approached, hips bumping hers in their closeness. Already he could feel the warmth returning to his skin.
“How could I convince you to return it to me?” His fingers found the side slits to touch soft skin.
“I’m afraid you can’t. It’s far too comfortable for me to simply give away.” Her hands settled on his chest and he forgot the game at the tender sensation of her palm against his beating heart.
“Ah,” he said, trying to find the thoughts to make the words he needed. Absently, his hands smoothed along the familiar expanse of skin up her back. Nalia sighed against him.
“Then what would you require in exchange?” he asked.
She hummed again in thought. He became aware of the feeling of her breast pressing his chest at every breath. She trailed one finger along his collarbone and a shiver rippled up his spine. This was becoming quite different from their usual game.
A sudden spark lit in her eye. “First, I will need you to sit in that chair.”
He glanced at the simple wooden chair by the hearth. Solas frowned, trying to follow her thought. He did as she asked more out of curiosity than anything. He regretted losing the heat of her body but the assured look on her face promised it would be worth it.
“Sadly, I don’t feel I can trust you not to try to steal my sweater so you will have to be properly restrained before we can begin the … negotiations,” she said.
A flush spread along his neck to the tips of his ears. So she intended that type of game. “… I see.”
His heart jumped in his chest. He watched Nalia lean to place her hands on his knees, the position allowing the too-big sweater to fall loose and give him an ample view of her.
“Do you accept?” she asked, all honey and promise.
“It seems I must if I’m to retrieve my sweater,” he played. Though now he did not need it, for his skin was hot enough on its own.
Nalia let her nails scrape lightly on his shoulder as she pulled the necklace from him. Her leg slipped between his thighs for purchase until she brushed the center of his legs - an action he had performed on her many times and he was now content to be on the receiving end. She leaned in close enough to kiss as she bound his hands behind him in the leather cord. He did not kiss her. It was not his place in this game. But the desire in him and the warmth of her breath drew him to wet his lips.
He tested the cord when she pulled her hands away and found it firm. He looked up at her hovering over him.
Her finger guided his chin up, the nail a sharp sting on sensitive skin.
“Inquisitor,” she corrected.
The heat and tension doubled. Even his stilted breaths felt warmer.
“Inquisitor,” he agreed, low and coarse. Her eyes gleamed in approval at the deeper sound. “What next?”
“Now,” she purred. “We begin our negotiations.”
