gentleman, is she rly your wife if you don't kill her once?

A wordless murmur of agreement at his comment of the pesky buttons.  She agreed, wholeheartedly, but she couldn’t find too much fault with them.  They had their uses, and when they were undone, she did not try and stop the way she arched into his touch.  A brow arched then.

Should I not have missed you then?

Was there something else that she didn’t remember?  So many pieces, so many memories, gone.  She would likely reclaim them, in time.  She needed time.  Had that not been the very words that Solas had spoken?  They were, and she pouted, but only a little, as he pushed her off of his lap so that she stood.  The dress slid down from around her hips then, the whisper soft sound as thrilling as the sight of his desire.

Mythal laughed, but she did as he wished.  Her gaze never left his, her head turning around faster than her body so that she could maintain eye contact at al times.  But she would not be denied and stepped forward into his space once again, her arms sliding around his neck.  Paints, hmm?  And what would you paint?

She desired to know the paths his mind took, taste the flavour of his thoughts, lose herself in the fervor of his emotions.  Her mouth brushed across his and she pushed herself closer into him.  I want to know…