kauriart:

katalyna-rose:

buttsonthebeach:

katalyna-rose:

He comes to you with gentle touches and fingers that shake against your skin. You know he thinks he is not worthy but you don’t know how to convince him that he is. He touches you like you’ll disappear from under his fingertips at any moment, and there are no words strong enough to tell him that you’re here, you’re real, and you’re not going anywhere. With such delicacy and hesitation it surprises you to find yourself naked before him, as though this is more of his magic that you hadn’t seen coming.

“Solas,” you whisper, and his eyes soften because your voice catches in your throat. It helps, you think, that you’re almost as surprised as he is that this is even happening at all. He draws you close, holds you against him, and one hand cradles your head and tangles in your hair. It is a surprise to realize that while you were watching his face he somehow became as naked as you, but the thought is lost in his kiss.

The touch is soft but insistent, his lips firm and smooth, and it’s impossible not to melt against him. Your hands on his shoulders can feel all the coiled power in his body, but he doesn’t use it. A shiver travels up your spine and you want him to, want him to release this tight hold he keeps on himself, but part of you wonders if you could even withstand the full force of him as he truly is. Something in you knows that he is more than you’ve ever seen before, and his strength is leashed for a reason.

But that doesn’t matter as he backs you to the bed, as you both fall upon it in a tangle of limbs. Your laughter makes him smile as he urges you up the bed, pulls a pillow under your head. His touch is still gentle, but more insistent now as he makes his way down from your lips. No part of you is safe from his attention, every inch of skin laid bare to be adored. At times it feels like he has more hands than he should as he touches your body, even sliding his hands beneath you to feel the muscles in your back shift and flex. His lips are constantly busy, as well, suckling kisses pressed to your jaw, his teeth in the lobe of your ear, his tongue on the tender skin just behind it. He makes his way lower, lower, down your throat and across your shoulders, kisses pressed right above your beating heart, and still down. He counts your ribs with his teeth and though you shiver and the fine hairs on your body stand at attention it doesn’t tickle in the slightest. You don’t realize until his palms brush your thighs to ask for entry that you grant at once that you’ve grown so wet, but the air feels cold when you part your legs for him. The cold doesn’t last because his mouth is there, right there, and your nails rake his bare scalp as he devours you. He could consume your very soul this way, his touch following the shivers of your pleasure to drive you ever higher, his long and skilled fingers used in tandem with his tongue. Both hands, then, as you moan his name in sweet ecstasy, fingers brushing at your ass. His tongue ventures lower as his fingers torment you still, and there has never been a sweeter sensation than his hot, wet tongue on that ring of puckered muscle.

You shatter in his hands, on his tongue, and there is nothing but the pleasure. He gives it to you again, more daring this time with his touches, and your thighs quake around his ears. You reach for him with a whimper so he moves over you again, and you know he does not mean to loom so ominously, but his eyes are dark and his lips are wet with your flavor and he is still devouring you even though his touch has left your body. You are his, and he knows it, and he has you trapped so willingly that you would beg for it if he asked it of you.

You reach for him to give him pleasure as he has given to you, but he denies you despite your disappointed whining. You can’t help but feel that despite the position you’ve found yourselves in he does not feel worthy of receiving that pleasure from you. There’s no time to convince him, however much you may wish to, because he captures your mouth again as he lines up your bodies. All other thoughts flee your mind and you wrap yourself around him, eager to receive him, more than ready. You need this, and so does he.

He is so slow, so agonizingly slow as he feeds himself into you inch by inch. There are no words that your mouth can form, even to beg for more, so you moan at him and sink your teeth into his full lower lip. His reaction is the most gratifying thing you could ever imagine as he gives a ragged gasp and plunges the last few inches inside. Again, your laughter makes him smile, but this time you know how to work him, how to get what you both need. When he is slow to thrust you dig your nails into his back as you sink your teeth into his neck and his next thrust is hard, fast, ragged, and lacking entirely that tight control he’s shown through all this intimacy. That’s it, that’s what you want, what he needs, and you have to get him to let go.

“Vhenan,” he rasps, and the word is ragged.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and you mean it down to your bones. His eyes are still dark as they find yours but in them you see the fear that causes his hesitation. “It’s okay,” you say again, as you tighten your body around his. Pleasure makes his jaw fall open and his eyes narrow, but he lets you lean up to kiss him.

And he drops the leash.

All at once he’s pounding into your body as though he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you hard enough and it’s all you can do to hold on, to withstand him. Your voice goes hoarse from the volume of your cries but you can’t stop when his hips meet yours with such force and the pleasure pounds in your blood like a second heartbeat. Your nails rake across his skin and your legs hold on for dear life and you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you even harder. His body is bowed to yours, his arms wrapped around you to bend you to him, and the whole world disappears into the space between you, the harsh sounds of both of your breathing and the hoarse cries of names. In these moments when he has released all control of himself you feel like you know him in a way you couldn’t before, like you can see into his soul. What you find there scares you to some degree, but even so you love him even more. How can you not? This man has trusted you with his deepest self, with a side of him that he takes great pains to keep chained, and he trusts you to withstand him.

His hips tilt just so and your back bows in his hands and your head is thrown back on a wordless cry as pleasure lights your spine on fire and turns your body liquid, and you have never come so hard in your life. Still he fucks you through it, as your nails leave welts on his skin and your muscles quake in his grasp and your voice breaks entirely until at last, at last, he loses his rhythm. His moan is beautiful and his face is a mask of exquisite agony as he pumps his seed within you and you feel the odd desire to thank him for the gift of his pleasure, for allowing himself to feel it.

He collapses on top of you, burying you beneath his body, and for long minutes you simply lay there and remember what it’s like to breathe. Tremors of the aftermath of pleasure shake you both, but he recovers from them first. His lips find your skin again and you shiver hard, and this time it’s his deep chuckle that brings a smile to your lips.

@katalyna-rose it can be so hard to do second person narration, but you 100% pulled it off with this hot, hot smut. Thank you for gifting us with it!!

@buttsonthebeach Glitterbutt, I am crying, thank you so much!

On the subject of second person narration, I really feel like it’s a style that lends itself well to focused PWP. @kauriart does a lot of it and was actually my inspiration to make the attempt because I always adore the way it creates a sort of tunnel vision by necessity. As a writer I’m a lot less likely to get caught up in physical details with this style because it sort of removes the need for them. This character has no name, no appearance, no history, where they are is never mentioned except that there’s a bed there, yet everything you need to know about her is still apparent, and that’s something that I’ve only ever done well (I think) in this style. I may try it again in the future, who knows. ^.^

Smut begets smut. ❤❤❤