#mage!rook

“This is your fault. I —.” 

You snarl in elven, “Dirth ma, harellan! Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din!” 

The man in front of you — Solas, remains as stoic as ever, only the slight twist of his lips gives way to his anger. 

“You have made it so I will never die,” he replies, voice buttery smooth. 

Once, that voice made your heart skip a beat. Once, his voice was the only thing that could quell the devouring storm in your head. 

Now, his voice only brings rage to you. Solas is the reason everything went wrong in your life. Still, you had come to love him. 

And maybe some part of you still does. But that part is currently buried under six tons of pure hate, and when Solas disappears, only to reappear behind you, you whirl around to fling a fireball at him. 

Your magic thrums beneath your fingertips, and hot fire travels through the still air before simply… vanishing, before it can even get to Solas. He scoffs. You almost curse how good he looks, his violet eyes simmering with amusement. 

“Did you think you could hurt me here, in my domain?”

“Ir emah’la shal!” You growl, running towards the ancient elf. 

Solas side steps you, hands behind his back. He’s poised, ever elegant, and entirely infuriating. You scream, frustrated tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. It’s minuscule, but you can see the way Solas falters at that. His lips part, and his brows raise. 

And that’s when you make your move. You twist with the grace of a dancer, pouncing on him and knocking him to the ground. He grunts on the impact, and you grip his throat in your bare hands. Solas glares at you, lips curled to bare his teeth. 

He looks like a wolf ready to strike, and you almost curse the way your cunt pulses. Solas glowers at you, and you can see the unbridled hatred in his eyes. 

“You honor your patron well, Rook.” 

You absentmindedly touch the Vallaslin depicting Elgar'nan's thorny vengeance on your face. 

You open your mouth to speak, and then —. 

And then his lips are on yours, teeth clashing against your own. It’s a mess of knocking teeth and tangled tongues, his hate searing into your very soul. It’s addicting, and you press your crotch closer against his, the sizeable bulge there knocking the wind out of you. Solas bites your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and you pull away to scowl at him. 

“Draw my blood once more, I dare you.” 

It’s a challenge Solas is all too happy to accept. With a sharp and powerful buck of his hips, he takes you unawares and flips the tables — literally. Suddenly you’re under him, his big hands gripping your wrists above your head. His armor clinks against yours in a deadly melody. 

Solas’ thumb comes to smear the blood on your lip, dipping just the tip of it into your mouth, so you can taste your own lifeblood. 

“Do you know how much you tempt me, my Rook?” Solas growls, tightening his grip on your wrists. You wince, but your nethers sing with arousal. 

“I am not yours. Dirth ma banal, Wolf.” 

Desire sparks within Solas’ eyes, and he leans closer to your elongated ear, hot breath fanning across the sensitive skin. 

“I shall show you what it means to be taken by the Dreadwolf.” 

With that promise whispered into your skin, Solas places one of his hands on the middle of your chest, a faint blue glow emanating from underneath. And then suddenly, your armor is disintegrating. 

“What the —.” 

Solas cuts you off with a searing kiss, his tongue thrusting inside your mouth. He caresses your tongue, before his own retreats. He sucks your lower lip into his mouth and bites — but not hard enough to draw blood. 

His lips trail higher, kissing your cheekbone with  a softness you don’t expect. Solas darts his tongue, tracing the curve of your long ear. You whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your cunt flows with arousal. 

“Solas…,” you whine, grinding your bare hips onto his clothed ones. His armor clinks against your clit, and you tense in pleasure. With a flourish of his wrist, his armor evaporates, and you’re suddenly flushed with his bare body. It’s glorious, the feeling of his warmth and skin on you. His cock is erect, pressed against your lower stomach, and you can feel the wetness seeping from its tip. Your hands twitch in his grasp, aching to run your fingers all over his form. 

Solas’ lips are suddenly on your neck, where he bites the delicate skin, drawing blood. He laves the blood with his hot tongue, moaning at the taste of you. 

“Had I known this was all it takes to get you to be quiet, I would have done this sooner,” Solas mumbled against your heated skin. Despite the fact you despise this man, your heart aches at his admission. When this began, and he was so attentive and kind and had you falling so fast, so hard, was it all a trick? To get you to trust him unconditionally? To use your love for him against you? You suppose it didn’t matter now, as you’re trapped here with him for all eternity. Still, the thought causes your anger to reach a crescendo, and in retaliation, you shift so your lips are pressed against the slope of his shoulder, and you bite. 

Your teeth pierce his skin, drawing blood. His hips lurch against yours, and he grunts. You smirk against his skin. Solas’ left hand trails the length of your body, rubbing over your taut nipple before traveling lower. He lifts his hips just enough so he can run a fingertip over your throbbing clit. You moan, and Solas smirks. 

His hand guides his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your slit before —. 

Before he’s thrusting into you and sheathing himself in one go. You cry out in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. But you don’t let them fall — that’s what he wants. Your cunt clenched tightly around him, but that doesn’t stop Solas from pulling his hips back, only to piston further into you. This isn’t soft lovemaking — this is pure primal need fueled by mutual hate. 

It hurts, but as he keeps thrusting and — mercifully — rubbing your clit in firm circles, the pain begins to ebb away until all that remains is firey pleasure. You’re quickly chanting the elven man’s name, scratching his back in euphoria. 

“Solas, Solas, fenedhis!” You cry out, canting your hips sloppily to meet his. Solas grunts, lifting his head from your breasts to stare at you. His eyes are filled with lust, and it makes your cunt clench with need. 

“Sahlin garas,” Solas cooes, thrusting particularly hard. The way he speaks elven is flawless, and it never fails to make your heart stutter. With another erratic jerk of his slender hips, and pinch of your clitoris, you come undone — just like he demanded. 

“That’s it,” Solas grunts, and with a bite to your neck and a quick thrust, he’s spilling his seed inside you, moaning into your skin. 

He’s quick to slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss. He stands, and stares down at you. With a flick of his wrist, you’re both clothed again. 

He blinked a few times before slowly pulling the spoon from his mouth and swallowing the bite he’d already shoveled in. Setting the spoon down, he laced his fingers together on the table.

“Hypothetically,” he started, “if I said yes…would you be mad?”

Lucanis frowned. “Kai…”

“I said hypothetically!”

The older assassin looked even less amused.

“Rook.”

Oh, he was in deep shit.

Lucanis’ stare was unrelenting, and the younger man didn’t take long to break under it.

“Spite kept giving me puppy eyes!” Rook blurted out.

The rogue closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Those are my puppy eyes…”

“Yeah, I’m well aware…and they are still very effective,” Rook pointed out, “Actually, it’s a little scary how well he can use them…”

Lucanis sighed again and just gave him a look. “Kai…no more teaching Spite fire.”

“But…”

“Want. To do. Fire!”

“No,” came the firm response before Lucanis looked at Rook pointedly, “he does not need to know fire.”

Rook sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Fine.”

“Want-”

“No,” Lucanis said again, rubbing his temple. He looked at Rook again. “Promise me that you won’t try to teach him fire anymore.”

Rook kept his face looking as miserable as possible.

“I promise, ma vhen’an, I won’t try to teach him fire anymore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, in Rook’s study.