Chapter Text
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She hadn’t meant it to happen like that.
Not the first time.
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It wasn’t first time that Jowan had been whispering about it to her, talking about things that made her blush furiously and want to bury her face into the book in front of her. It was only due to their friendship that she didn't pick up her belongings and leave him to study alone. He laughed at her, of course.
“Oh come on,” he elbowed her with a sly grin, “You’re eighteen and you’re telling me you’ve never even tried?”
“I’m trying to study, Jowan,” she replied stiffly, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks and the thoughts of a certain someone fluttering through her head.
“You are sorely missing out, Solona.”
He left the conversation there, but the thought was stuck in her head like a burr. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her at least a little… curious.
She had never touched herself down there.
Maybe she should try...
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She couldn't tell how late it was, but from the lack of sound around the bathing area meant that it was getting closer to curfew. She was alone, thank Andraste for that, and the heat from the water felt so good against her skin after a long day of study. She ran her fingers through her hair and sank deeper into the tub, letting the steam cloud her senses. Her hands trailed down slowly over her chest, and paused in their movement. Did she dare? After all there was no one else around... except for the templar on guard at the door, and he was facing the other way. She flushed slightly, and bit her lip.
Perhaps? If she was really quiet...
Slowly, hesitantly, she let her hand run down her body under the water, between her legs, where she had only ever touched to clean herself before. It felt strange, having her fingers there, and she couldn’t really tell if she was doing it right. It felt kind of nice, she supposed, almost soothing in a way. But it didn’t feel the same as Jowan had described it. She stopped and blushed, feeling like a fool. Perhaps she just wasn’t cut out for it. Then she remembered what Jowan had said, about picturing…someone. Perhaps that will work? She leaned back against the tub, her eyes slowly slipping closed of their own volition. Who would she even think about? Immediately, he comes to mind.
The way he smiles at her hesitantly, the way he stutters when he says her name, how he would blush whenever she spoke to him. She wondered how his lips would taste if he pressed them against hers. Would they be sweet?
At this thought, she gasped softly, and her fingers began to stroke herself again, and this time a funny feeling began building under her fingers. Was this what she was supposed to do? She kept her eyes closed and continued hesitantly, letting her mind drift again.
She pictured him, standing on guard like he always does in the halls. She imagined walking past him, minding her own business, only to have his hand grab her arm and haul her into an empty room. He would press her against the wall, and whisper in her ear of all the things he wanted to do to her - sinful things, things that she only dared to imagine late at night when everyone else was asleep.
She could feel her hips moving in time with her fingers, almost of their own accord. There was a pressure building inside her that she wasn’t really sure of, but gods, it felt… good. She didn’t want to stop. A low moan escaped her lips as she pictured his face, so close to hers and moving down, down, down to where her fingers were. She imagined his hands pushing her legs open, spreading her wide in front of him. She ached to have him touch her, to let him do as he wished with her.
“Please,” she whimpered softly, not caring that the templar at the door probably heard her. Her movements became more frantic, and water began to slosh over the sides of the tub, but Solona was lost in her fantasy. He would slide his fingers down towards her center and press against her folds, kissing her hungrily between ragged breaths. Her own breathing matched the phantom in her thoughts, and her fingers moved faster, against that little nub that sent shock waves through her body. She moved desperately, and so does he, panting above her now and telling her how much he wanted her, all the things he wished that he could do, and oh, oh, she could feel herself ready to explode -
“Oh gods, Cullen!”
Her voice rang out across the room as stars burst behind her eyes.
A strangled gasp startles her out of her euphoria, and she opened her eyes lazily to see the templar facing her, his helmet unreadable but his shoulders trembling. Solona felt her heart stop for a second, and slid deeper into the rapidly cooling water, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know what to do, except to stare and hope that he would leave. How much had he seen? Oh maker, she shouldn’t have, she shouldn’t have…
The templar took a step back, and then another, his helmet still hiding his face. He turned, looking like he was ready to bolt, but he hesitated. He turned his head slightly before letting out a strangled, “I-I’m sorry!”
She froze.
It was his voice.
Oh Andraste.
But there was nothing she could do except watch as the templar she had fantasied about sprint away from the door with a backwards glance.
It didn’t take her long to dry off and race back to her quarters, her cheeks still burning from embarrassment.
It was all Jowan’s fault.