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Solas saved them.
Rook is still trying to wrap their head around things hours later as they hurry into the meditation room. Solas *saved* them. Not only them, but the dalish elves. All of them. And if Rook is right, he is paying the price for it this very minute. Rook had sensed the blight-addled spirits of desire swarming around Elgar’nan, rushing in at his command. They might not have been able to penetrate the prison, but Solas had found a way to cast his mind out to Elgar’nan, so the spirits must have found a way to him.
Rook throws themselves on the bench and screws their eyes shut, willing themselves into a meditation. It takes them an anxious few minutes. They have seen possessions of all kind. Desire demons, though rarely lethal, are always nasty business. If they got to Solas, he needs help.
Rook blinks into consciousness inside the prison - but not at their usual spot. The landscape is bleak, monotonous, as if the mind that crafted it had no energy to spend on the details of its environment. At least this way they have no trouble spotting Solas. Hunched over. On all fours.
Solas’ hands are clawing the dusty ground and he is panting, but even so he should have been in a far worse state. They would have expected him to have spent the last few hours feverishly - and fruilessly - stroking himself. It would only have made things worse, of course, but this knowledge usually does little to stop the average victim. Solas is clearly not unaffected, but he is still wearing his armour. Perhaps that is what had stopped him thus far, his hand-eye-coordination no longer up to intricate tasks.
It is only when Rook steps almost within arms reach of him that Solas’ head shoots up, his eyes meeting theirs. His pained expression briefly gives way to shock.
“It’s all right. I know.” Rook falls into a soothing tone without thinking. “I know what’s happening to you.”
Something like defiance crosses Solas’ face. Or trepidation, perhaps.
“I know you might not want me to touch you”, Rook continues. “I get it. But it *will* help.”
Rook kneels in front of Solas, now closer to his eye-level.
“This is… not your problem”, Solas manages, the words rasped through gritted teeth.
“Not sure that’s entirely true, but even if it was… You saved our lives. Let me help you?”
“It hardly warrants…”
He can’t seem to form the end of the sentence, but Rook gets his meaning all the same.
“Yeah, no, I don’t usually reward people who save my life with a handjob. You’re right about that. But I think you’ll have to agree this is a bit of a different situation we’ve found ourselves in. Not ideal, you know. But it is what it is.” With how Solas frowns, they can tell that even in his state their rambling irks him. Which is exactly the point. “So I could sit here and tell you how grateful I am while you try not to pass out from the lack of blood in your brain. *Or* we handle this productively and then go back to our usual dynamic. Skipping and hand holding, you know the drill.”
His eyes close, and they can see his need to get off battle his need to argue with Rook’s every word. It is a short fight. When he looks at them again, defiance gives way to a silent plea. He nods, seemingly unable to get the words out.
“All right”, Rook says. “All right. I’ll remove your armour. Is that ok with you?”
Another nod. Solas pushes off his hands and comes to kneel upright. Rook hurries to free his arms and chest first. Solas clearly makes an effort to stay still, his every muscle tense.
“Just a moment longer. The less metal plating, the less likely someone gets hurt.”
Solas doesn’t answer, but his next exhale comes laboured, like he’s just managing to stifle a groan.
“I know”, Rook answers softly. “Almost done. You’re doing really well.”
The fact that Solas doesn’t sneer at this tells them just how far gone he is. They double their efforts, removing his armour and kneeling in front of him. Finally, they slip a hand into his underclothes, wrapping their fingers around his erection before the reality of the situation can catch up with them.
As soon as they start stroking him, Solas folds in on Rook with a groan, his forehead landing on their shoulder. He grinds helplessly into their hand.
“You should be able to come now”, Rook says, just as he tenses. His hips buck and Rook tries to steady him with their free arm as his cock spills rope after rope of cum. Rook keeps stroking him, doing their best to help him ride out a seemingly unending orgasm. He obviously tries not to make noise, but all it does is make him sound more desperate. A small tremor runs through him when the orgasm stops as suddenly as it began, and Rook thinks they hear him stifle a whimper against their skin.
“Better?”, they ask, trying not to smile despite themselves - he might take it for mockery.
Solas swallows dryly. He nods, but as soon as he has caught his breath enough to speak, he says: “More. Please. I need- I am sorry. Don’t… don’t stop. Please. *More*.”
He makes an effort to lift his head off their shoulder to look them in the eye. His expression is pleading. Apologetic. Rook pitied him even before any of this happened. If he wasn’t already holding on to them for stability, Rook might be tempted to hug him. Instead, they lean forward, touching their forehead to his. They look at him with all the determination they can muster.
“Listen to me: I’ve got you. It’s all right. I’m not stopping until you’re ready to stop. I promise. Yeah?”
Even with their hand still wrapped around his cock and covered in his cum, Rook swallows a surprised yelp when Solas kisses them. It is not the hungry, devouring kiss they would have expected from someone in his state. There is nothing aggressive in his manner now. One of his hands loosens its grip on the fabric of their shirt and instead cups their face. Warm. Tender. It can only be a gesture of overwhelming gratitude, Rook thinks dimly. Then they stop thinking alltogether. They simply kiss him back.
When they notice Solas is rocking his hips into them once more, they start stroking him again without breaking the kiss. Solas moans into their mouth, pulling them closer into a genuine embrace. He comes again not long after, his lips only leaving theirs when he gasps for breath. This time, the orgasm ends abruptly after just two spurts. Solas thrusts into Rook’s hand with a grunt as if he’s trying to coax out more, but to no avail.
“More?”, Rook asks, not bothering to hide their smile this time. At this point, they might be as eager as Solas himself.
Solas, after a steadying breath, nods.
“Please.” He hums quietly when Rook starts moving their hand faster, like the touch itself brings some relief. “Hm. Thank you.”
He may be a man of many faults, but bad manners are not among them, Rook thinks.
The next orgasm seems to be more frustrating than pleasurable. Solas’ hips push into Rook’s hand, cock filling out to painful hardness. For a moment his body stills, every muscle tense. Solas is holding his breath, eyes screwed shut while Rook works his cock faster to push him over the edge. After a too-long moment of waiting, a single rope of cum shoots from his cock. It clearly does little to satisfy Solas. His body remains tense, still waiting to tip over the edge.
“Seems you’ve emptied yourself out?”, Rook says, unsure.
“No”, Solas presses. “I can… feel it. I just… can’t…”
He groans in frustration.
“All right. Don’t worry. We’ll try something else. I could…”
He grabs their shoulder hard when they lower themselves between his legs, wetting their lips.
“Rook. No.”
“I don’t mind, I promise.”
“No. I can’t… I will hurt you.”
His tone is definite. He’s not being coy, Rook realises. All his usual self-control aside, right now he probably wouldn’t have the wherewithall to *not* force his cock all the way down their throat to make himself cum. They can’t say they’ve never thought about choking on his cock. But those fantasies don’t usually involve death by literal choking.
“Good point. All right.”
Rook gets up, letting go of Solas’ cock in the process. He whines at the loss of friction, his fingers closing around himself as if on reflex. He must know it won’t do him any good, but he looks like he is far past caring. And there, even though they feel like an asshole for it, Rook can’t resist taking their time, unbuttoning, slipping out of their shirt, unbuckling their belt, all with Solas on his knees before them, transfixed and panting while he mindlessly fucks his own hand. Rook takes just enough time to spread out their shirt on the dusty ground.
“Come here.”
They pull Solas closer, guiding him until he’s on top of them. He has to use both hands to support himself, the temporary lack of attention to his cock leaving him trembling with need. As soon as he lowers himself far enough, he starts grinding against them, moaning shamelessly when he feels the wetness of them.
“Rook… please…”
Rook slips a hand between them, aligning him to their entrance.
“Here. Gently as you can.”
Solas tries, bless him. He really does. He holds back for a moment, once again touching his forehead to theirs, positioning himself so that his weight isn’t on Rook. He pushes into them slowly, with a *whimper* that seems to come from the very depths of his soul, his eyes closed. Despite how pent up he must be, there is something almost serene to his expression in this moment, as if even just being inside them is giving him something he desperately needed.
When he starts rocking into them, Rook moans softly. Solas shivers at the sound, groaning as Rook starts to move with him, picking up the pace, encouraging him to take more. Rook themself is breathing hard, marvelling at the feeling of Solas filling them up. They try to hold on to their senses as Solas chases his release, but it’s not easy with the way he touches them - one hand entangled in their hair, one arm encircling their waist to hold them close while he buries himself inside them over and over again until Rook forgets why all this started.
“Fuck… Solas…”
Solas freezes with a gasp, his eyes shooting open, and Rook watches as his pupils dilate unnaturally. They don’t need an explanation. They can see, almost *feel* how something unlocks inside him right then.
The next moment, the air is forced out of their lungs as Solas yanks one on their legs up to their chest and starts fucking them like his life depends on it. To him, right now, it probably feels like it does. He buries his face against their neck, his breathing hot and ragged against their skin, almost sobbing with the force of his need. This is what takes Rook over the edge. They come, clenching around him.
Suddenly, with a raw cry, he presses himself into them with his full weight, as if even thrusting in and out would be putting too much distance between them. Rook feels spurt after spurt spilling inside them, feels Solas’ bared teeth clenched against their neck.
His orgasm lasts almost a full minute, but it is blissfully uninterrupted and, finally, seems to bring him some relief. At the very least, he is able to take a moment to catch his breath once it is over. He untangles himself from them far enough to look at their face, his gaze searching, with some of his familiar perceptiveness returned. Rook gives a weak smile, hoping to reassure him.
“I’m really glad that worked”, they say.
He nods, and for a moment there is an almost companionable silence between them. That is, at least, how Rook interprets it. Then they notice he is still rock hard inside them. Rook shifts, moving into him just to see what happens, and Solas’ hips jerk as if involuntarily. He looks almost embarrassed.
“I- ah. I’m not done.”
Rook chuckles.
“I figured.”
“Please…” He speaks quietly and doesn’t meet their eyes. “Please don’t make me stop.”
Some of the tension has left him, but the urgency in his voice remains the same. Rook can’t help it: They wrap their arms around him and hold him as he starts moving again.
“Don’t you dare stop”, they whisper.
“Ma serannas”, Solas replies, the words a sigh into the skin of their neck.
Solas comes several more times, each time leaving him a little less feral and a little more boneless. Each orgasm seems to be drawn out longer, until Rook holds him through several minutes of occasional tremors while Solas weakly rocks into them. Finally, he stills with a last convulsion and a shaky exhale.
“Better?”, Rook asks.
This time, they expect him to say yes. Instead, the sound that leaves his lips is almost a whine, exhausted beyond measure but clearly still frustrated. He hasn’t softened one bit.
“Please”, he breathes, though it seems he can’t fully name what he is pleading for.
Rook themself is breathless and getting quite sore, but they promised to help, and they are no quitter. They push Solas off, ignoring his weak protests.
“No. Rook. *Please*…”
“Hush. I told you I’ve got you.”
They push him onto his back and climb on top of him. Rook’s lower body, as well as his, is absolutely covered in slick. Rook guides Solas’ cock back inside them and feels his entire body relax beneath them immediately. They don’t know what is wrong with them, but something about this of all things tugs at their heartstrings.
“That’s it”, they purr. “Just trust me. I’ll take care of you.”
They ride him as Solas watches through half-closed eyes, his hands creeping up to their hips but letting them find their own rhythm. They hear him moan under his breath, feel the sound vibrating underneath their hands when they run them up his stomach to his chest.
Going at their own preferred pace also means that soon enough, Rook is fighting against their own impending orgasm. Their eyes close, their own moans grow louder and they lose themselves until Solas’ hand finds theirs. They look down at him and see not the desperate need from before, not even the satisfaction of fulfilled animal urges. They see lust that, perhaps for the first time today, is truly directed *at them*.
Solas reaches out and Rook leans forward, allowing him to cup their face.
“Please”, he breathes, and this time, they both know exactly what he is asking for.
Rook whispers his name as they let themselves cum, clenching around him. At this, Solas’ fingers dig into their hips and he lets out a sob, a true *sob* of relief as his body expells all that has been driving him insane for hours now. This time, what Rook feels inside them is not spurts of cum, but one continuous *stream*, along with an almost scorching heat. Demonic essence, Rook realises blearily. Solas is free.
They both still, breathing heavily. They feel him slowly growing limp inside them.
“How about now?”, they ask, forcing a half smile, though it comes out a little wobbly.
Solas lets out a huff that might well be an exhausted chuckle. They half expect him to say something cutting.
“Better”, he replies, his voice astonishingly gentle. “Thanks to you.”
“Happy to help.”
They mean it. Probably more than they should. Eventually, Rook lets themselves relax into Solas, who embraces them as if it was a normal, natural thing for him to do. Perhaps it is, right now. For a moment.