Explicit | Solas x F!Trevelyan | 5,236 Words
Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating, Mating Bites, Knotting, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Alpha Solas, Omega Inquisitor, Breeding, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Top Solas, Omega Trevelyan, choking but not really, There's a lot of sexy holding of the throat but Trevelyan never actually chokes, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Solas makes objectively bad decisions and justifies them later, Brief discussions of past abuse in the Circle, Solas is real salty about other men, The Iron Bull is a Good Friend
A delayed delivery leaves Evelyn Trevelyan without her heat suppressing tonic for the first time in ten years. In a doomed effort to just ride it out, she tries to go about her days as usual, oblivious to the effect that she's having on the Alphas around her. Especially Solas.
It hits him when she passes by the rotunda, slipping through the corridor and up the stairs, oblivious to the heady smell she leaves behind.
The Inquisitor is in heat, or something close to it.
Solas is carefully still, leaning over his research. He grips the edge of the table even as old, familiar instincts rush back into his brain. He’s been controlled since waking up here, though he had attributed that to a lack of his preferred sort of partner. Without the old magic, elves these days don’t tempt him as they used to. They smell off, titillating and attractive but not irresistible. It had seemed a strange mercy when Solas had realized as much, one more reason to concentrate on his work instead of losing time to chasing down the smell of a potential mate in desperate need of what he could give.
For all of his mistakes, the situation as it has been so far is almost ideal. Inquisitor Trevelyan likes him, trusts him, takes his guidance. She’s intelligent, gentle, and decent. Best of all, she’s human — and a beta, or so he’d been led to believe.
Their connection has been more intellectual than anything else; any romanticism between them has been relegated to carefully casual flirtation and a single stolen kiss in the Fade. Without the insistent pull of sexual need, he’s been able to divorce his fonder emotions for her as a person from the necessary manipulation it’s taken to put her in the right places at the right time. Solas had come to the Inquisition in desperate need of a reliable piece on the board, and she’s perfect.
Or, well. Had been perfect, before she’d rendered him stupid and stiff without even trying. He’s been foolish to let it escape his notice that she’s been suppressing herself until now.
Solas digs his fingers into the table and swallows down the urge to follow Evelyn Trevelyan and bury his teeth in her neck like a wolf devouring a hare.
