Who is the Predator, Who is the Prey [Closed M-S]

[Kiley Daire]

(( Firstfall 9, 9:35, evening. @Teagan Guerrin ))

She had been spending quite a bit of time reading, making connections, and discovering that not everything she thought mattered was useful. The ledger provided some mundane details, but the real prize of that little book was Rigby’s payment to a man that had connection to a group that had harassed Rainesfere before.

She was still going through accounts of various bandits and possible merc groups that had accosted Rainesfere over the years, even before Breanna had taken over as Bann. She was still quite involved in this when her retainer arrived to help her get dressed for dinner.

It was a bit of a shock, as she was unaware of the time, and looked out her window to see the sun beginning to set. She’d shared a few meals with Teagan since arriving, but this one was a formal one. So, she allowed her new friend to help her get into the dress that she wouldn’t have been able to by herself -- or at least not gotten all the ties as tight as they needed.

She felt the flutter of nerves in her stomach. It wasn’t like there was anything really different about this. Other than dressing up nice. For Teagan.

She stared at herself in the mirror and frowned as she fixed her hair, content to do that without help. Butterflies should not be happening. They had kept the boundaries agreed upon, some light flirtation here and there. She intended to retain them, and be on her best behavior as promised.

It didn’t stop that longing that kept growing the more she was around him. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Kiley fretted all the way down the hallways, only changing her expression when she saw Teagan waiting for her outside the dining room.

“Good evening, my lord,” she bowed, while a grin painted her lips. “Kind of you to invite me to dinner.”

She slipped her arm in his, tilting her head up to look at him, “I hope you didn’t work too hard after I left you this morning.”

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

Since Breanna was away overseeing Rainesfere and Catriona was no longer even in the same country as him, Teagan had fallen into the bad habit of taking his dinners alone. A bad habit according to Nessa, at least. No one else criticized him for the choice, and he suspected it was what his brother had done many times. Eamon had a wife and a son at home, however, and Teagan had neither of those things, as the cavernous halls all too often reminded him.

He did have company, however. Kiley was an honored guest of Redcliffe, in official terms. To him, she was a friend. And a distraction, but that was beside the point. He’d invited her to simple, informal dinners thus far, over which they spoke of her task. Papers were typically strewn about the table, and the meal only consisted of two or three courses.

Tonight was different. Nessa had gone to the dining staff several days ago and worked them into a frenzy. As he currently had a guest--and one of noble birth--they all but demanded the opportunity to cook, set, and serve a proper dinner. Five courses, over which no paperwork was to be done. He’d agreed, and tried not to consider the intent behind Nessa’s machinations. She’d been like a mother to him for as long as he could remember, and her cause was likely borne of a desire to see him relax. Not--as some might have suspected--a plan devised to put him into closer contact with an eligible young woman.

Nessa could not read his mind, after all, and thank the Maker for that. The more time Kiley spent here, the weaker his willpower became. It would break entirely if she propositioned him, he thought, but he hardly needed the encouragement. Events of each day replayed in his mind when he retired to his chambers, only the light and harmless flirtations turned into anything but.

He’d dressed appropriately, in a dark red doublet with a brown woolen shirt beneath. Perfectly-tailored trousers were belted at his waist, tapering down to meet polished boots that had only ever been worn to formal functions. His hair was combed neatly, that single braid hanging down, and his goatee was as trimmed as it always was, all trace of whiskers shaved smooth.

Teagan stood outside the dining hall, though he did not have to wait long for his guest to arrive. He smiled when he saw her, and forced his thoughts into those acceptable for a respectable lord--whatever that was.

“Good evening, my lord,” she said with a bow. “Kind of you to invite me to dinner.”

He returned the gesture with a bow of his own, his expression turning playful. “I apologize for the formality. The cooks were growing restless. Had I not agreed to a proper meal, I suspect they would have created some sacred holiday out of thin air.”

He offered his arm to her, and she took it easily. The warmth of contact did not go unnoticed, but he was used to it at this point.

“I hope you didn’t work too hard after I left you this morning.”

Teagan chuckled, turning to lead them both into the dining hall. The table was set with precision, the longer one that was used to entertain multiple guests replaced by something smaller. Tallow candles burned, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers from the gardens adorned the table.

“I have been forbidden from working this evening, so I’m afraid I did cram everything into a few hours.” His time was so often filled with meetings that there were never enough hours in the day to do everything that needed to be done. “But that just means tonight will be free of bother and distraction.”

Hardly. It would simply be a different kind of distraction, with no mountain of paperwork to save him from himself.

He led her to the table and slipped his arm from hers to withdraw a chair. A nearby servant scowled, but quickly schooled his features when he caught Teagan’s raised brow. The man then went to withdraw a chair for his lord with surprising alacrity, evidently offended by the prospect of the arl doing it himself.

“If you would let Yvarin know she may present the first course at her leisure,” he said, dismissing the man with a dip of his head.

Settling into his chair, Teagan let out a soft sigh. Certainly he remembered what it felt like to relax. He’d spent much of his adult life in a relaxed state, his only concerns relating to who he was going to bring to his bed and what he was going to do with them once they were there. A glance at Kiley made him all to aware that he’d chosen the wrong line of thinking, and he cleared his throat in attempt to recover.

“As I am forbidden from performing any work-related tasks this evening, I suppose that also means no talk of work. We’ll have to speak of other things. A dreadful idea, I know.” His lips curved into a smile, and he inclined his head to another servant who was waiting nearby. “If you would pour the wine, please, and then you may leave us.”

 

[Kiley Daire]

“I apologize for the formality. The cooks were growing restless. Had I not agreed to a proper meal, I suspect they would have created some sacred holiday out of thin air.” he said at her greeting, returning her bow.

She gave a soft laugh after taking his arm, patting it with her free hand. She did not mind a more formal dinner in the least, but she hoped he wouldn't beholden her to completely proper etiquette during the whole meal. "I did bring clothing appropriate for such a thing. It's nice to dress up now and again, don't you think?"

KIley moved on, trying to confirm that he did not overwork himself once they had parted ways for the day -- despite working quite hard herself. He lead them into the dining hall before answered, chuckling as they walked in step with each other. It was almost surreal how easily that came, but he was a good lead while dancing, perhaps she was just following his lead here. The room was immaculately set up, from fresh candles to fresh flowers. A small table rather than the huge tables she remembered from the ball. It made her wonder where such things were stored when not in use.

“I have been forbidden from working this evening, so I’m afraid I did cram everything into a few hours.” He said as they got closer to the table, and she quirked a brow. She had meant to discuss some of the threads she had started connecting. “But that just means tonight will be free of bother and distraction.”

Right, other than the distraction of being around him not talking about work, and trying her damndest not to fall into the trap of her feelings. He pulled out her chair, and she sat, noticing a servant quickly moved to pull out his chair. She looked between him and Teagan when her host took his seat, grinning. It seemed Teagan may not be much for protocol with friends, but his servants certainly were.

He let the man know the first course could be served, and turned back to her. Had they ever had so many people at their beck and call in Hafter's Bend? Sure there were a few servants here and there but she couldn't remember something so formal. Or maybe it was just blending together with her time away from such formality, where one fed oneself and poured their own wine.

“As I am forbidden from performing any work-related tasks this evening, I suppose that also means no talk of work. We’ll have to speak of other things. A dreadful idea, I know.” He was amused by the restriction it seemed and she hoped the smile she returned didn't expose her nerves on the matter. “If you would pour the wine, please, and then you may leave us.”

The servant did so, and she got more comfortable in her seat, pulling it up just a little more than he had pushed it in. Where he had was perfectly fine but she needed to distract herself with movement. When the wine was poured she picked up her glass, "Very well then, no work talk. We will have to find creative ways to keep ourselves entertained between courses."

She didn't take a sip, instead bringing it to her nose inhaling the scent. A very good, strong wine. "I was glad to find a well stocked apothecary in town. I hadn't realized how much trade actually came through Redcliffe, but I suppose its a good location for the southern towns to converge."

That was almost bordering on work related matters, but she hoped it hadn't breached the rules of the evening. She held the wine glass up, "Shall we open our meal with a toast then? To an evening without work? Or to good company? Maybe both?"

Maker she was rambling, and it took all her willpower not to put the glass to her lips right away.

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

It was absurd to speak of this evening as having no distractions. Everything about Kiley Daire had become a distraction, and he began to feel like a parched man who was senselessly denying himself that first sip of crisp, cool water.

He would keep doing it, though, even if he stopped now and again to eye the water longingly. His gaze rested longer on Kiley than he might have liked as she settled into her chair. She wore a lovely mauve dress that was perfectly tailored, the bodice tied tight enough to only accentuate her figure. Pristine fabric traced ample curves, and while it was not nearly as revealing as the dress she’d worn to the ball months prior, it was enticing just the same.

Though at this point, she could have worn a burlap sack procured from the larder and his gaze would have lingered.

"Very well then, no work talk. We will have to find creative ways to keep ourselves entertained between courses,” she said.

Teagan had his wine glass raised to his lips when she said it, and he found himself very thankful he’d not taken a sip. He might very well have choked at the images those words conjured through no fault of her own. He knew very well when Kiley was trying to bait him--he’d experienced it firsthand. She’d been a perfectly proper guest thus far, betraying only a few harmless flirtations. It was Teagan’s thoughts that wandered where they should not.

“Oh, I’m sure we can manage something. There are other things to talk about, after all. Or perhaps we can come up with new ways to vex Ser Selmy.”

He did take a sip of his wine then, and tried not to fixate on Kiley’s lips as she did the same. He could think of a great many creative ways to pass the time, with the added thrill of having to anticipate when his staff would return. Lust struck him hard as he thought of it, and the hand that rested on his thigh beneath the table curled violently, blunted nails digging into his skin to ground himself.

"I was glad to find a well stocked apothecary in town. I hadn't realized how much trade actually came through Redcliffe, but I suppose its a good location for the southern towns to converge."

That was enough to tear him away from his more carnal thoughts. An apothecary? Was she ill? The castle was equipped with healers for this very purpose. Had she not felt comfortable enough to ask him? Perhaps it was a personal matter, and it would be best if he did not pry. On the other hand, she had mentioned it…

“It’s very fortuitous,” he said, choosing to avoid the topic of the apothecary for now. “A great deal of traffic passes through Rainesfere, as well. Breanna has done a far better job fostering it than I ever could, and--” His lips twitched. “And I am speaking of work. I apologize.”

She diverted his attention gracefully, lifting her wine glass. "Shall we open our meal with a toast then? To an evening without work? Or to good company? Maybe both?"

To an evening that did not end with him making short work of the space that existed between them. Or perhaps to one that did. Maker, he had no idea why he was so worked up tonight, but he needed to think of literally anything else lest he give himself away.

“Both,” he agreed, lifting his own glass, “and a third: To a continued friendship, and one that I have come to value.”

And would not destroy by giving in to his base desires. As a friend, though, he was still concerned over the matter of the apothecary. After he clinked his glass with hers and took a sip, he considered how to voice it.

“You mentioned an apothecary. Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice. “I would be more than happy to send a healer by your rooms.”

 

[Kiley Daire]

“Oh, I’m sure we can manage something. There are other things to talk about, after all. Or perhaps we can come up with new ways to vex Ser Selmy.” he said, and her smile broadened. She did like trying to crack the Guard-Captain. If his personality was a tad warmer, she might not try so hard. She did like a challenge though.

And at one point, she welcomed the challenge of the man next to her. That first meeting still rang through her mind, and it was nearly daily since arriving in Redcliffe. The banter and word play had stirred something in her that even now refused to die. She couldn't lay the blame on his feet for that, though. Kiley was the one who couldn't let it go. She maintained the boundary, despite the things going on in her mind. If he mentioned such things, however, she knew that her tongue would betray her.

He had so much power over her, power he likely didn't realize.

She tried to make a little small talk, hoping to find a topic they both could engage in, but even that turned a bit towards work when she mentioned her trade perceptions of Redcliffe Village.

“It’s very fortuitous. A great deal of traffic passes through Rainesfere, as well. Breanna has done a far better job fostering it than I ever could, and--” He paused. “And I am speaking of work. I apologize.”

She shook her head, grinning. Kiley had been the one who took it down that path. It was the easiest one to take, work had become a buffer between them. At least for her, it kept her focused on being useful, and not slipping into that place she shouldn't be going. At a few points since they had been in each other presence tonight, she thought she had felt his eyes on her. Not in the way one just glances at a friend, but heated looks that passed when she tried to focus on them. Tricks of her imagination of course. He'd made himself quite clear.

She proposed a toast as way of distraction, hoping that they would find something else to focus on once done with it. “Both, and a third: To a continued friendship, and one that I have come to value.”

There was a hint of a blush in her cheeks in that, while it also served to remind her of those boundaries between them. She lifted her glass, along with her chin to appear more confident than she felt, and they tapped glasses before they both took a drink.

“You mentioned an apothecary. Are you feeling unwell?” she wasn't expecting him to go back to that and stopped short of choking on her wine. She set the glass down, her eyes burning a little when she looked over at him. He was obviously concerned and she hadn't really thought about the actual implications of mentioning the apothecary. “I would be more than happy to send a healer by your rooms.”

Fingers came up to drag over the collar around her neck, so easy to forget it was there. "Ah, no. I'm not sick. I don't need a healer."

Hurriedly, she grabbed up the glass of wine again and took a drink to clear her head a bit before continuing. "I needed to restock my tea. I didn't have time in Denerim to get more before we left."

That really didn't explain much did it? Why would she get tea from an apothecary, "It's to make sure that there aren't any surprises down the road in case I decide to get intimate with someone while here."

Hopefully that was clear enough. She certainly didn't want to go further into the details of taking the tea to prevent unwanted pregnancy.

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

His question seemed to fluster her. So much so that her cheeks even darkened with a lovely blush. She touched her neck nervously, fingers tracing over the collar, and Teagan felt the stirrings of an entirely different emotion.

"Ah, no. I'm not sick. I don't need a healer."

Well, that was a relief, at least. His eyes returned to hers, and he calmed the sudden ridiculousness that had surged through him. Lifting his wine glass to his lips again as he waited for Kiley to continue.

"I needed to restock my tea,” she explained. “I didn't have time in Denerim to get more before we left."

Tea? Why would she need to…? This time Teagan did choke on his wine, though he tried to do it as quietly as possible. Tea from the apothecary. Maker, he was behaving like an idiot.

"It's to make sure that there aren't any surprises down the road in case I decide to get intimate with someone while here,” Kiley continued, her own voice tinged with nerves.

“I’m--” Teagan coughed into his hand. “Yes, I’m well acquainted. Rather, I’m aware of its function.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he’d kept from blushing, which was silly. There was no reason to behave like an adolescent. They both knew of what she spoke, and it wasn’t as if there was anything taboo about it in his eyes.

Teagan grew agitated at himself, and as that agitation blossomed, it fanned the fires of the earlier emotion he now chose to name: Jealousy. Maker protect. He shouldn’t feel jealous of these nameless, faceless persons she might decide to be intimate with. She was free to sleep with whomever she pleased. He’d made his boundaries clear, after all.

Even if he’d rethought them every day since she arrived.

It was all absurd, and Teagan made an effort to move past the whole damned thing. “We’re both adults,” he began, his lips tipped up in a small smile, “and we should be able to speak of such things.” Without blushing like teenagers, he didn’t bother to add. “I assume you were able to restock your supply?”

What was he going to do if she said no? Offer some of the personal supply he kept on hand, just in case his partner was not already taking it? It wasn’t speaking of business, at least, but he was beginning to regret making that rule.

“Have you happened upon any promising prospects?”

Especially when he asked questions like that. His palm nearly became very acquainted with his face, but fortunately he was granted a brief reprieve when his staff brought in the soup course. An expertly-presented parsnip soup sat before him, and he gave his thanks to the server, focusing on that instead of his companion.

 

[Kiley Daire]

He choked on his wine once she explained, though it wasn't dramatic. He was able to keep it quiet and she looked back down at the table, trying to keep herself under control of her own emotions. It was only normal to be surprised at such an admission at the dinner table after all, but Kiley didn't want to be dishonest about it. Perhaps someone else would have covered it with something that wasn't sexually related.

“I’m--” he coughed, and she spared a glance out of the side of her eye. Was his face red because of choking on the wine, or because he was blushing. She had to go with the former, because the latter would have just made her latch onto things she shouldn't yearn for. “Yes, I’m well acquainted. Rather, I’m aware of its function.”

She smiled a little. It was funny in a way. They were both tripping each other up. It made her wonder if he was having a difficult time avoiding certain topics as well. Again, another thought she didn't need for it would only embolden her.

“We’re both adults, and we should be able to speak of such things.” she turned back to look at him, a playful smile on her face. Yes, they should be able to. Did he realize how dangerous it was though? “I assume you were able to restock your supply?”

Had this been any other man she was attracted to, the first words out of her mouth would have been: I was, would you like to test the efficacy. She cleared her throat as she tried to clear her mind. "I was. As I said, it was a very well stocked apothecary."

Then Teagan decided to ask a question she didn't think he would ever ask her. Sure they had traded a few light stories, some banter here and there. But it was rather direct, and she wondered if it was just to hold onto a conversation that was not about work or something more curious. “Have you happened upon any promising prospects?”

After already finding herself blushing once this evening, she didn't think it would be possible to find herself doing it again. But oh, she was, the heat suffusing down the length of her neck as well as the breadth of her face. Was he testing her resolve?

Before she could answer the staff filed in with the first course, a soup. She finished off the glass of wine, and requested one of them fill it before they filed back out of the room. Leaving her and Teagan alone once again. The soup smelled delicious, but her focus was not on it. She schooled her face, trying to regain that confidence that seemed to elude her around him lately.

So Kiley found herself making a decision. A wicked grin split her face as she started speaking, "Well, the one I'm most interested in is unavailable."

She paused long enough to eat some of the soup, drawing out a long 'mmm' and licking her lips. "I haven't spent any time in the town tavern yet, so none there. But there is a strapping stablehand that I might ask to take me for a ride someday soon."

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

No amount of parsnip soup could save him from his own idiocy. The whole thing was absolutely absurd. He was a grown man, and he quite enjoyed sex. He should be able to speak about it without turning into the blithering fool he’d been when he was seventeen.

But all he could think as he lifted the spoon to his mouth and blew lightly on the creamy liquid was that they had four more courses to get through, and four more opportunities between those courses for him to continue thinking--and apparently discussing--inappropriate things.

It was clear Kiley was not unfazed. The glance he stole at her revealed an even deeper blush, this one going down into her long, slender neck. He traced the column slowly, his pulse quickening, the taste of the soup forgotten in his mouth as he imagined what her skin might taste like.

"Well, the one I'm most interested in is unavailable,” she finally answered, once his staff left the room once again.

His eyes met hers, an undeniable flash of heat in his gaze. Brief, but there just the same, constricting his chest and tightening his fingers around his spoon. Perhaps it was egotistical of him, but there could be no mistaking who she meant, and some reckless part of him wanted to correct her immediately, using as few words as possible.

He wasn’t unavailable, nor was he uninterested. It was just… unwise. Their friendship was new and fragile, and he needed things between them to remain professional when they were working.

Teagan took a rather generous drink of the wine he’d also had refilled and chased those thoughts away, just offering her a smile in answer.

They both shifted focus to the soup, only Teagan found his attention immediately diverted by the drawn-out sound of pleasure that slipped from her lips. His nerves were wound so tightly, his skin flushed beneath his doublet that he felt like he might suffocate in this dining room. She’d been so respectful, so careful of the relationship he wanted them to maintain that he didn’t think she’d done it on purpose, but she ruined him just the same.

"I haven't spent any time in the town tavern yet, so none there. But there is a strapping stablehand that I might ask to take me for a ride someday soon."

He halted his spoon on its way to his lips and blew with more force than was necessary, barely managing to avoid splashing the liquid back into the bowl.

“A stablehand?” he tried to keep his tone amused, but his throat felt tight and dry, and his thoughts were currently centered on some other man touching her; giving her the “ride” she’d mentioned.

It’s not your place, he reminded himself. He’d made a mockery of this night already, and they didn’t possess the kind of friendship where they could speak of conquests over a nice meal. They might have, if Teagan didn’t find himself suddenly wanting to track down this unknown stablehand and see what kind of man he was.

There was only so much he could contain. The dam was bound to break, and he had to minimize the damage as much as possible. That, at least, was what he told himself in the barest of seconds before he decided to utter, “Are you sure a stablehand will satisfy? I’ve heard they have a fair amount of brawn to speak of, but little in the way of stamina.”

 

[Kiley Daire]

After she mentioned her first choice as being unavailable, there was a brief moment where their eyes locked. She was sure of the heat in his gaze then, the desire that flicked away just as quickly as it appeared. Apparently she wasn't as unappealing to him as she had considered. Perhaps the boundary wasn't as solid as she had believed. Still, she had made a promise. But that promise did not include teasing -- especially when he was the one asking her probing questions about her interests.

“A stablehand?” he queried, amused. Her brow lifted. She had thought her more blunt answer would perhaps stop this line on inquiry, but no, he was still full of questions. If he wanted to ask them, then she would provide the answers.

"Yes, he has quite the sense of humor to match his muscles," she said it as if that was a selling point. "And he's been very good with Adelaide."

At this point, she was wondering if she wasn't just goading him into more. She would not dare make a first move. That promise, despite this conversation, was extremely fresh in her mind. If Teagan wanted to cross the dividing line between them, then that was his choice to make. She ate more of the soup, pleased with how it warmed her. Or maybe it was the conversation. Despite mentioning the stablehand, her fantasies in the stable still involved the man she was currently having a conversation with. There were a rare few men she had consistent fantasies about, and he was one of them.

If he didn't speak again soon, she'd find some way to maybe shift the conversation towards Adelaide. And Bastian, who seemed rather interested in her beloved horse.

But he did speak. And it was yet another question keeping them on this topic. “Are you sure a stablehand will satisfy? I’ve heard they have a fair amount of brawn to speak of, but little in the way of stamina.”

She set her spoon down in her bowl, and looked directly at him, eyes catching his. She wanted him looking at her when she answered him. There was heat in her eyes too, and while there was a smile on her lips, there was something else in her expression. Not annoyance. No, she wasn't annoyed. Possibly a challenge?

"His strength is what interests me most. I doubt there is a man in this area willing to bed me that has the stamina to truly satisfy me, my lord. However, I don't mind a little rough handling for a short bit of fun. Truth be told, if the stamina isn't present, I prefer that the handling be more than a little rough." She dabbed at her chin with her napkin, and then picked up her wine glass. She took a smaller sip this time, not really wanting to lose her faculties by moving too fast with it before the main course was served.

"Since you have a great deal of interest in such topics, perhaps you'll entertain questions from me of a similar nature? Though, this is your home, so it would be odd for me to ask if you had any interest in anyone in the area. Especially, since I haven't really gotten to know many of the people here." There was still a blush in her cheeks, but the tentativeness that had been present for the majority of this conversation drained away. "So, I suppose I could shift it to the hypothetical. How would you go about choosing a bed partner... say, if you were in Denerim?"

She took a moment to finish the remainder of her soup, before returning her pale green eyes to him, "Do you prefer the meek and shy?"

Only the briefest of pauses before she continued, "No, I very much doubt that. You like them bold don't you? Those who can keep up with you with words as much as they can in physicality. Are you often disappointed in your choices? Maker knows I am often disappointed with mine."

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

Pale green eyes issued him a challenge and Teagan began to wonder--not for the first time tonight--what he was even doing. The questions he asked and the way he asked them was the work of a man who very much wanted to cross the line he’d established.

"His strength is what interests me most. I doubt there is a man in this area willing to bed me that has the stamina to truly satisfy me, my lord.” He swallowed a bit harder than necessary for soup, his eyes returning to hers. “However, I don't mind a little rough handling for a short bit of fun. Truth be told, if the stamina isn't present, I prefer that the handling be more than a little rough."

He needed to end this. There was an itch just beneath his skin, a tightness enveloping his entire body--though some regions more than others. Everything in him knew better than to poke the bear, as it were.

And yet…

“I’m hardly criticizing your choices, my lady,” he said, while planning to do just that in the next breath, “I just believe you are more than a common stablehand can--or should--handle. But perhaps I am wrong. I doubt I’ve met the man in question. Maybe you will be pleasantly surprised.”

His fingers curled even tighter around the spoon, and he made an effort to lower it into the bowl and eat more of the soup. The last thing he needed was for the cooks to ask if he’d not enjoyed his meal. In truth, it was a lovely soup, but his attention was fixed elsewhere.

And so too was Kiley’s.

"Since you have a great deal of interest in such topics, perhaps you'll entertain questions from me of a similar nature?” Teagan arched a brow and drew in a steadying breath through his nose. She was still blushing, but the nervousness that marked her earlier conversation was gone. “Though, this is your home, so it would be odd for me to ask if you had any interest in anyone in the area. Especially, since I haven't really gotten to know many of the people here. So, I suppose I could shift it to the hypothetical. How would you go about choosing a bed partner... say, if you were in Denerim?"

The way she phrased it made him certain she knew exactly what he was thinking. And why wouldn’t she? He hadn’t exactly been subtle, either in the way he looked at her or the things he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

"Do you prefer the meek and shy?" He snorted softly. "No, I very much doubt that. You like them bold don't you? Those who can keep up with you with words as much as they can in physicality. Are you often disappointed in your choices? Maker knows I am often disappointed with mine."

Maker, she was goading him. Tossing out a line affixed with bait he should have been able to resist, but didn’t seem capable of tonight. Some part of him insisted that he was an adult--a currently unattached one, at that--and if he wished to involve himself in this game, he was free to do so.

The possible consequences were a concern, but he was beginning to care less and less about those.

There was a long pause, during which Teagan finished his soup as though nothing were amiss. “Over drinks, typically.” He set the spoon down with care and brought a cloth to his mouth. “A quiet room. A glass of whiskey, or perhaps wine.” He took a small sip. “How we got to that point is anyone’s guess. Mild flirtation that builds over time, or perhaps just a heated glance across a crowded room.”

He paused for emphasis and his eyes met hers. That, naturally, was when his staff came to whisk away the soup, replacing it with a salad of hearty greens tossed with shaved beets and carrots. Teagan’s demeanor changed. He visibly relaxed, smiled even when he thanked the servers. But the instant they were gone…

“You are correct, I prefer women who are bold in word as well as deed. I have partaken in trysts that involved little to no build-up or talking, of course, but those are not the most memorable encounters.”

He reached for a small dish of oil and vinegar that had been flavored with a bit of raspberry wine. It poured easily over the greens, and he passed it across the table in offer to Kiley.

“I would much rather engage with someone who can keep pace in an escalation of words, if you will, until one of us breaks and needs more.”

That was a challenge. There was no other way to look at it. And even as he ate a few bites of his salad in peace, he knew he was veering close to the point of no return.

“And what of you? You mentioned your stablehand’s strength, his care of Adelaide, his sense of humor. I assume you’ve spent a fair amount of time with him--enough to desire his company and seek out a means to have it without any surprises, as you said.” He paused again, savoring the sharp taste of vinegar and tart fruit. “But your choices are somewhat limited here, are they not? How would you approach the matter in Denerim?”

 

[Kiley Daire]

“I’m hardly criticizing your choices, my lady,” he said, and followed it up by doing the exact opposite, “I just believe you are more than a common stablehand can--or should--handle. But perhaps I am wrong. I doubt I’ve met the man in question. Maybe you will be pleasantly surprised.”

She stared at him a moment, daring to blink, finally as she responded to that. "It is less about who can handle me and more about what I can do to scratch the itch until someone better comes along. If I'm surprised, all the better. If I'm not, then I move on. Surely, you've had an encounter just to fill the space until the experience you actually desired became available? Like partaking in a low quality whiskey until you have access to something of a much better standard."

There was an edge to her voice. She wasn't angry with him for this line of questioning, but there was a slight irritation in her that wanted to claim he was toying with her. Despite the flashes of heat in his eyes, and the reactions she was getting, it was still fruit she could not touch. Oh, she thought he was considering the possibility of lowering himself to an accessible branch, but she knew the dangers of plucking at that temptation. Despite that, it was almost freeing to be having this conversation, all of her physical frustrations feeling at least somewhat eased.

“Over drinks, typically.” Was he talking of choosing or the seduction that came after the selection? “A quiet room. A glass of whiskey, or perhaps wine. How we got to that point is anyone’s guess. Mild flirtation that builds over time, or perhaps just a heated glance across a crowded room.”

He paused as the next course arrived, but she paid no attention to the salad set before her, gaze still intent on him even as he shifted his demeanor to interact with the staff. It shifted back almost instantly once the door had closed behind them.

“You are correct, I prefer women who are bold in word as well as deed. I have partaken in trysts that involved little to no build-up or talking, of course, but those are not the most memorable encounters.” he said, and then offered the dressing for the salad as if this was extremely normal banter to have over dinner.

“I would much rather engage with someone who can keep pace in an escalation of words, if you will, until one of us breaks and needs more.” Her hand slipped, almost dropping the dish into her salad. A foolish moment for her to have looked away, or she may have seen it coming.

Another stare, as if trying to puzzle things out. Outwardly, she relaxed, mixing her salad together as he took a few bites of his. Inwardly, Kiley Daire was screaming. It was a direct challenge, and she wondered if this was all just a test of her willpower. If so, she would endeavor to pass it with flying colors.

"Do you find the ability to keep such a pace in words also has the ability in bed?" Why gloss that over? "Though, I do feel you have only given me a half answer. You speak more to the seduction, and the games after choosing, only touching briefly to confirm my suspicions of your preferred prey."

She took a bite of the salad, but did not quite enjoy it as she had the soup. No, her hunger was stoked for something else entirely. "What draws you to a selection before you engage?"

It was his turn to turn the questions back to her, “And what of you? You mentioned your stablehand’s strength, his care of Adelaide, his sense of humor. I assume you’ve spent a fair amount of time with him--enough to desire his company and seek out a means to have it without any surprises, as you said. But your choices are somewhat limited here, are they not? How would you approach the matter in Denerim?”

"Enough time to know that he would be a practical choice, and one that would be discrete, but not enough time to even know his name," she took a sip of wine, leaving the salad for now. A wicked grin split her face, as she considered the answer to the rest of his question. Blunt honesty would be rather fun here, she thought.

"As far as Denerim goes, it depends on the night. I visit the rougher taverns for a reason, but my selections are usually those with well formed features, obviously older than I, and a bit of bulk. And never those who make a crude remark when conversation begins." The glass was in her hand and she toyed with the stem, "Or, if we change the setting to an event among peers, I lay a trap and see who comes to bite. Most know my reputation, and often they try to persuade me in secret. Blunt vulgarity will see them sent on their way, but word play... well, it will at least gain my interest."

She finally set the wine glass down, and focused on the course in front of her for a brief moment. "It is rare that I feast during a noble's gathering these days. I have more than my reputation to consider. I only keep one such partner now, and fill the time in between combing the taverns."

 

[Teagan Guerrin]

He gave a brief nod, relenting that he had--on desperate occasion--partaken in something he knew would be less than satisfactory. Perhaps it was his station or the reputation he’d built. Perhaps he’d just learned to adapt to his partners better than Kiley had. Whatever it was, he rarely found himself settling. Most trysts gave him some kind of fulfillment. Very few, however, gave him everything he was looking for.

As he explained himself, he watched her reactions, his attention seized on that moment that nearly ended in a catastrophic salad incident. He was wound too tightly to find humor in it, and as her eyes had been locked with his, the only thing he could truly focus on was the fact that he’d just issued a challenge.

And from the defiance that flared in her eyes, he was certain she’d accepted. Maker. That respectful distance he’d put between them was vanishing by the moment, and part of him didn’t even care.

"Do you find the ability to keep such a pace in words also has the ability in bed?" she asked, cutting to a more direct line of questioning. "Though, I do feel you have only given me a half answer. You speak more to the seduction, and the games after choosing, only touching briefly to confirm my suspicions of your preferred prey."

Teagan did smile then, a sly curve of his lips as he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps I have. And… sometimes. Less often than I would like, I admit. Some people are all talk.”

He returned to his salad, though he scarcely tasted it. The lettuce could have been off, the vegetables sour for all he knew. At present, it was just a way to occupy his hands that had nothing to do with the woman sitting across from him.

"What draws you to a selection before you engage?" she asked more plainly, demanding satisfaction even in this.

“Are you asking me what I look for in a woman?” The corner of his lips tipped up just slightly. He dabbed at his mouth with a cloth, then returned it to his lap before answering. “My tastes vary, but I suppose there is some commonality.” He considered past partners, his fingers drumming quietly against his wine glass. “I rather enjoy the softness of a woman’s form. The subtle dips and curves. There is little hope of a well-tailored dress escaping my attention if it is fitted to a shapely woman.” He took a sip of wine, forcing himself to taste it even as his mind raced. “Even better if she is toned from martial practice or some other line of work, yet still soft in breasts, hips, thighs…”

She wished to be blunt, then he would speak in the same manner. All while trying to ignore the image his mind presented him, of Kiley’s dress at the ball, and how much it accentuated her figure. If circumstances had been different…

“Aside from looks, I prefer someone sharp-tongued who is quick to engage in banter--whether that banter is sexual in nature or not. Someone who believes the seduction is as important as the act itself, though I have done away with the seduction, on occasion. We all have our needs, do we not?”

Outside of that, he could not claim a preference. He’d bedded women who hailed from many different parts of Thedas, who all looked wildly different from one another. Some were of noble blood, many others were not. Ladies, tavernkeepers, merchants… he did not discriminate if his conditions were met. And truly, a woman who might not have caught his eye in the physical sense could easily do so with enough clever teasing.

But Kiley was not a woman who needed that extra help, though it was obvious she was fully capable of keeping up with him in wordplay and teasing him to the point of madness. Even outside of that, she was lovely. Dark, rich skin, a lithe toned body with ample curves, expressive eyes that drew him in every time they fixed on him.

No, he needed no help finding her attractive. Desirable. Something to be craved.

He asked after her own interests, partly to continue the game, and partly to stave off the ache that tightened his entire body and had him wondering how quickly he could reach her if this table was not an issue.

"Enough time to know that he would be a practical choice,” she said of the stablehand, “and one that would be discrete, but not enough time to even know his name.”

He watched as she took a sip of wine, mesmerized by the way the liquid briefly stained her lips, and the working of her throat as she swallowed.

"As far as Denerim goes, it depends on the night. I visit the rougher taverns for a reason, but my selections are usually those with well formed features, obviously older than I, and a bit of bulk. And never those who make a crude remark when conversation begins. Or, if we change the setting to an event among peers, I lay a trap and see who comes to bite. Most know my reputation, and often they try to persuade me in secret. Blunt vulgarity will see them sent on their way, but word play... well, it will at least gain my interest."

He could only imagine how often she was propositioned. Likely by young men who had neither the talent--or the age, apparently--to satisfy her.

"It is rare that I feast during a noble's gathering these days. I have more than my reputation to consider. I only keep one such partner now, and fill the time in between combing the taverns."

The crisp beet tasted bitter in his mouth as she mentioned what could only be the man who’d given her that collar. His gaze flicked to it now, but returned to his food a moment later. That was reason enough not to let this progress beyond sexually-charged banter. Random encounters weighed on his mind, yes, but not as much as the idea of a regular partner--and one who’d claimed a primal sort of ownership, at that.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, ignoring the second half of her comment. “In my younger years, I never worried about being discrete. I cared little for my reputation or the way it might affect my life. Now, however, I have a great deal more to think about.” The arling. Breanna. Even Fergus, in some ways. “I fear my days of combing taverns are behind me.”

It would be rather obvious what he was there for, and though he cared very little what people thought of him, he didn’t want his actions to reflect poorly on Breanna. What he truly needed was someone close at hand. Someone he interacted with regularly, but only on a temporary basis. Maker help him, but Kiley fit all of those criteria.

“Your stablehand, then,” he said, diverting the conversation from his own needs. “How will you engage him? Will you invite him to a tavern for drinks and then go upstairs once the mood is sufficiently set? Or in this case would you prefer something quicker, more… to the point? I admit a stable would not be my first choice, but I suppose it wouldn’t be my last, either. So long as the walls are sturdy enough.”

 

[Kiley Daire]

“Perhaps I have. And… sometimes. Less often than I would like, I admit. Some people are all talk.” he said, and she smirked. Yes, indeed some people were. While she didn't think Teagan was one of them, that was all she had gotten from him so far. Talk that held promise of something, from years ago to tonight. This conversation was no different so far, as if he was dangling a hook daring her to impale herself on it.

She continued her pursuit of answers, asking him more questions. His answers did not disappoint. “Are you asking me what I look for in a woman? My tastes vary, but I suppose there is some commonality.”

"A bed partner specifically, not someone you would pursue more with," there wasn't much difference for her really, since the pursuit of more was not something she actively engaged in. Well, at least not something she ever initiated on purpose. Both instances where her heart leapt for someone ended badly anyway.

She watched as he considered the rest of his answer, finger moving rhythmically on the wineglass. “I rather enjoy the softness of a woman’s form. The subtle dips and curves. There is little hope of a well-tailored dress escaping my attention if it is fitted to a shapely woman. Even better if she is toned from martial practice or some other line of work, yet still soft in breasts, hips, thighs…”

Her chin lifted a bit higher then, a brow rising. There was a desire to judge herself against those parameters, though many women could fit with those specifications. There was a little surprise in her baggage, something she decided she would only wear if he decided to end the buffer between them. His choice, not hers, she kept reminding herself as the heat continued to rise under her skin. Her lips parted slightly as he continued.

“Aside from looks, I prefer someone sharp-tongued who is quick to engage in banter--whether that banter is sexual in nature or not. Someone who believes the seduction is as important as the act itself, though I have done away with the seduction, on occasion. We all have our needs, do we not?” It seems her way of speaking blunt was infecting him as well. She rose to his challenge, and he was rising to hers. Though, she certainly preferred something else to be rising at her influence.

She smiled then, not her usual smirk or grin, but a pleasant smile, "We do, my lord. I find your answers enlightening. Thank you."

Enlightening enough to know that his interest was likely there, combined with the looks he was giving her. It stroked her pride while also making her feel somewhat deflated. She was truthful with him in Denerim. She did not know if she could handle another rejection from him. Their terms had been clear, despite the heated tone of their current conversation. Kiley would not back down from this conversation, but she would not take it beyond words. If what she saw flashing in his gaze was something he wanted, he would have to take it.

She went on to answer his questions, about the stablehand and her choice of pursuits in Denerim. While she wasn't lewd, she was up front about her choices. Kiley was a physical creature, and while she would fill her time with men who did not completely satisfy it was better than the alternative in her mind. She no longer attempted to cultivate an open knowledge of the improprieties that the gossips liked to hurl at her, she was at times, a fine example of everything they had said.

“I know exactly what you mean,” She was positive he did. The gossips liked to speak of him as well, after all. “In my younger years, I never worried about being discrete. I cared little for my reputation or the way it might affect my life. Now, however, I have a great deal more to think about. I fear my days of combing taverns are behind me.”

She took another bite of her salad, before putting her fork down. It was only half finished, but at the moment she could not bring herself to continue eating, "I still believe you can comb a tavern and not find the information getting out. It just requires a bit of travel."

The grin returned to her face, though internally, she wanted to offer herself up to be that discrete partner. Though if he was willing to put aside physical needs entirely for sake of those who would be tarnished by furthering his old reputation, perhaps they weren't as alike as she had considered. It didn't change her desire of him, but it was interesting to see a divergence in her assumptions.

“Your stablehand, then,” he returned to the choice that was not really a choice. The man had given her that look that let her know he was attracted to her. But she wasn't sure she would actively pursue him. He was an employee of Teagan. If she did need to sate herself, she would find someone in town. Though she was enjoying the hint of competition in Teagan's voice about said man. “How will you engage him? Will you invite him to a tavern for drinks and then go upstairs once the mood is sufficiently set? Or in this case would you prefer something quicker, more… to the point? I admit a stable would not be my first choice, but I suppose it wouldn’t be my last, either. So long as the walls are sturdy enough.”

Kiley laughed, "Those are quite a few scenarios you've conjured."

Wine was brought back to her lips then, and she looked at him over her glass. "Since we're being honest here. Likely it would occur in the stables, after a good amount of teasing. I'm not afraid of getting a little dirty when it comes to fun. Should I describe the position I would try to goad him into? Bending over to retrieve something, finding myself pinned against one of the wooden gates moments later? With him, I am not looking for something extended. It's just filling a need, and I do so like driving a man to frenzy to get what I want."

The glass was returned to it's position, and she folded her hands neatly in her lap. "You asked about that specific choice, but I think you're more curious about matters which truly satisfy me are you not? Or have I read the intent behind those questions incorrectly?"

She waited only a short beat, tongue running over her upper lip, "The encounters that I find most satisfaction in never end quickly, my lord. Nor do they involve any man that does not have the willpower to resist giving into his baser urges right away. Such a partner must have experience and stamina by large measure."

Kiley wondered if she was going to far, "May I ask such a question of you?"

She didn't wait for him to agree, "In the act itself, are there things that must be present for you to reach full satisfaction?"