Completed [Pig's Foot Tavern] A Night In the Tavern (Mirian)

[Deltan Colari]

As they were led upstairs, Deltan grew increasingly worried about his plan to keep her busy all night. With them both alone in a room, he highly doubted that Mirian would keep her hands to herself. As it turned out, she didn't wait until they were alone. It was probably his fault, truth be told. He had his arm wrapped around her, after all. To her, that might mean he didn't mind her hands roaming where they would. Then again, Deltan really didn't mind it. Deltan was not able to focus on either his new, emptier surroundings or on the barman as he directed them to their room for the night. The feeling of Mirian's hand pawing first at the hem of his shirt and then slipping beneath to tease at his chest was increasingly distracting, and he didn't trust himself to speak lest he sound unsteady. Already, Mirian would likely notice that he was breathing more heavily than he had been before. Deltan did nothing to stop her, though he wasn't at all sure why. He should have, just to remind her that he had no intentions of sleeping with her. Mirian dismissed the bar keeper, which was a good thing because Deltan didn't even think to do it. He was entirely focused on what Mirian was doing. When they were finally left alone, the young woman slipped out from under Deltan's arm and, drawing her face very close to his, whispered seductively, “What do you say, love? Let’s you and I get in there and talk, hmm?” Deltan's lips parted slightly as he resisted the instinctive urge to kiss her, knowing that would do absolutely nothing to help him avoid giving in. Really, he knew he would likely lose this particular battle. She was just too beautiful, and too happy to have him there. It was flattering, in a way. Still, Deltan took in a breath to steady himself and gave Mirian a nod. He still didn't trust himself to speak, so Deltan simply took a step back and moved to lead her into the room, trying very hard not to touch her at all. If she initiated it, however, he would permit almost anything. At this point, it was very hard not to. The room was plain despite the cost, the furnishings sturdy but well-aged and without much decoration at all. There was a single bed, slightly larger than a single, as well as a table with a chair and a window with thick curtains that looked out on the docks. On the wooden dresser there was a washbasin, and a pitcher of water beside it with a cup. Overall, it was a bit better than what Deltan had lived with most of his life, so he had nothing to complain about. He didn't even consider that Mirian might have a problem with it; he assumed she'd spent more than a couple nights with men in rooms like this. After all, she was entirely too practiced at exciting him for it to be a one-time occurrence. Turning to MIrian, Deltan took in another breath to try to steady himself. He still tried to keep a bit of distance in the room, though they were confined enough for it to be almost impossible.

[Mirian Jade]

His lips parted, and for a moment Mirian thought he was going to kiss her. That would have been a pleasant surprise. It soon became clear that that wouldn’t be the case, though; instead, Deltan took a step towards their room for the night and away from Mirian. She mentally reprimanded herself; she was moving too quickly. He seemed to be finding her attentions nerve-wracking, which meant she would have to slow down. She fell into step slightly behind him and her hands returned to the skin of his hip and lower back as they made their way into the room, although her attentions weren’t intense or grabby. They were teasing, not demanding, and remained so as the crossed the distance of the not-yet-a-tavern and the hall behind it. She wondered briefly how she was going to move forward; he seemed to become less comfortable the more attention she gave him, although he didn’t seem to be stopping her, per se. Perhaps that could signal a lack of experience, which would certainly change the playing ground. She didn’t want to startle him beyond the point of no return, and so she needed to be careful with her steps. She needed to go slowly. They made their way into the room, a cramped, worn thing that would nevertheless serve their purposes. The bed was large enough for two people––barely––and there was even water provided. Not a castle by any means, but at the Drunken Fish, and to Mirian who had only ever worked here in the cheap rooms, it was more than suitable. She was the one to close the door behind them. Now truly isolated, Mirian smiled and slipped behind her companion, drawing her nails under his shirt and up his spine. She leaned up and breathed against the soft spot just below his ear and just behind his jaw, hoping that would be enough to encourage him, or at least enough to distract him as she pulled his tunic upwards, exposing skin and with every intention of wrestling it off.

[Deltan Colari]

Deltan really did wish he had more control over this situation; he could neither give in nor make himself break fully away from Mirian. It was beyond frustrating, and it took every ounce of willpower for him not to just give in and gods damn what she thought of him later. The way that Mirian teased him was unbearable; he enjoyed it immensely, though he almost wished that he didn't. As they entered the room, Mirian finally threw any pretenses at propriety between them out the window. While he was observing the room, he felt the heat of his companion's body as she drew up behind him, sliding her hands up his back, small fingers teasing up his spine. It did indeed have the intended effect. He was surprised just long enough for her to manipulate his arms so she could slide the shirt off. By the time Deltan realized what had happened, Mirian had full possession of his shirt, exposing his torso. Predictably, his cheeks burned a bright red once more--not that they hadn't kept at least a little color through Mirian's constant pawing--and he quickly turned to reach for his shirt. "Hey, what happened to talking?" He protested, focused on the shirt so he'd not have to look her in the eyes. Whether she let him have the shirt or not, he wouldn't let her trick him into losing any other garments. Assuming he got the shirt, he would simply pull it back over his head, though either way he would sit on the side of the bed and pat the space beside him, trying to make the flush of his cheeks go down. How was she not mortified at her own behavior? Then again, Deltan was embarrassed enough for both of them. Perhaps offering to get them both on the bed would be enough for the moment. As long as she didn't take anything else off of him, he suspected he would be fine. Besides, it was harder to take one's pants off when one was sitting down. "You wanted to ask questions about Syliras, remember?" The words were almost pleading; he wanted to postpone any further attempts. By now, he knew he'd have to either flee the room or eventually let her have what she wanted...But he'd rather compromise. After all, she wanted to hear about his home city. Maybe that would pacify her for a bit. If he kept Mirian occupied, she might just fall asleep and they could both get some rest without him humiliating himself with his own clumsy attempts at giving her what she wanted. Besides, the idea of sharing a bed with her in the literal sense was definitely appealing.

[Mirian Jade]

It seemed her tactic had worked, and she wrested the shirt free of its owner. He quickly turned, face already turning bright red, and reached out a hand. “Hey, what happened to talking?” Mirian laughed out loud and most certainly did not let him have his shirt, bringing it behind her, taking a step back and draping herself against the closed door. He may have been nervous before, but unless he became so fearful that he decided to jump out the window and take the two-story plunge below, she was between him and the way out. She merely had to keep it that way. He took a seat on the bed, patting the space beside him with eyes determined to avoid hers. “You wanted to ask questions about Syliras, remember?” His words were almost desperate. “Aw, you’re sweet,” she cooed. “There are many ways for a man and woman to… talk. But if this is the game you truly want to play, love…” She let his shirt drop to the floor and forsook the room’s threshold, prowling towards the young man with a smile. She angled towards where his hand had indicated, but didn’t sit down; at the last second, she put her own hand securely over his, swung her leg over knees and settled herself squarely into his lap. If he didn’t throw her off, she would give him a mischievous smile and ask her first question. “So, Deltan, just how high is the Syliran wall? I’ve heard it touches the sky.”

[Deltan Colari]

Deltan gave Mirian a vexed look as she withheld that shirt from him. The worst part was that, physically, he could take it from her. Unfortunately, in order to do that or even try to leave, he'd have to manhandle her. In his present condition, she could quite easily take advantage of that. With a sigh of irritation and defeat, he decided that if he was losing, then he'd at least put up a fight. As Mirian strolled closer and promptly planted herself into his lap, Deltan's expression distinctly resembled that of a hunted animal. He knew Mirian was set upon what she wanted, and also knew he had the disadvantage in every conceivable way. The young man didn't shove her off; he had been taught better than to handle a lady like that. "So, Deltan, just how high is the Syliran wall? I've heard it touches the sky," she said sweetly, like she hadn't just landed in his lap like he was a comfortable chair. "Not that high, but it's bigger than anything in Sunberth," he replied in a rather breathy voice. Deltan had given up trying to control his blush; it was an exercise in futility. He could put those energies to use elsewhere. He did, however, squirm around a bit to...hide his excitement. Who could blame him? It wasn't like he could hide the fact that he rather liked Mirian's attentions. In the process, he had placed one hand on Mirian's lower back and the other on one of her legs to keep her from losing her balance while he got comfortable. Under the hand on her leg, he felt something unusual. It was hard, not warm and firm like the rest of her. Blue eyes flicked up to Mirian's dark eyes, a curiosity there that temporarily supplanted his fixation on the way she was distracting him. After a moment's hesitation, he ran his hand along that shape, eyes widening in recognition as he realized what was strapped to her thigh. So that was where she kept her knife. A good place; most would not think to check there. Realizing abruptly where his hand was, Deltan drew it back quickly, the support on Mirian's lower back vanishing simultaneously. He was trying to distance himself from her, but it was understandably difficult considering where she was. "Uh... My turn," he said after an embarrassed moment, "Why isn't there a wall around Sunberth? Doesn't that make you vulnerable?" It wasn't a question he much cared about, but it would get his attention off of her...At least, it might have if Mirian wasn't on his lap and he was wearing a shirt.

[Mirian Jade]

If there was one bit of information her brazen move had earned her, it was that she was at least managing to arouse him. That gave her a bit of relief; if he was responding to her, even against his own will, she could use it to her advantage. It gave her an edge. “Not that high,” Deltan replied, “but it’s bigger than anything in Sunberth.” She shifted beneath her, presumably to make himself more comfortable, and as he did so Mirian took the opportunity to shift on her own and grind against where she knew he would feel it most. It was quickly done and quickly ended, and could even be interpreted as a simple shifting of weight, and she was careful to make no indication that she was even aware of what she had done. She did, however, notice when his hand found the straps at her thigh. The light in her eyes dimmed, and for a single, terrified moment she was afraid she’d lost him. He’d found her knife. Would that break everything she’d worked so hard to build? But no. He realized where his hand was and removed it, giving no sign that he knew what he had found. She let out a small sigh of relief and smiled, trying to swallow back her nervousness; maybe he didn’t even know it was a knife. Maybe she could still win this. “Uh, my turn,” he said after a pause. “Why isn’t there a wall around Sunberth? Doesn’t that make you vulnerable?” It took a moment for Mirian to realize what it was he was asking. To him, ‘you’ meant Sunberth as a whole, but to her it sounded as if he was asking if she herself was made personally vulnerable by the lack of the wall. Chuckling, she decided to answer in as Sunberthian a was as possible. She rested her elbows on his bare shoulders and brought her hands up to gently play with his hair. “You and I are at the docks,” she said. “What could we possibly have to fear from outside the city while we are in here?” Except for snakes, her mind whispered anxiously, but she quickly buried the thought. She didn’t want to think about those right now. “My turn,” Mirian murmured, licking her lips. Fingers taking on firmer edge as they buried themselves in the mass of gold and copper that was his hair, she leaned in close, placed her lips against the soft spot in front of his ear and whispered, “When was the last time you shared a bed?”

[Deltan Colari]

Deltan barely suppressed the groan that wanted to come from him as she moved about a bit. She might think she had him fooled, but Deltan had been around Mirian enough this night to know that anything she did was meant to make him more uncomfortable. You witch... he thought, more fondly than angrily, watching her carefully. As he noticed her knife, Deltan also caught that glimmer of--what was it? Worry?--something in her eyes that was quickly replaced with relief as he removed his hand. That made him smile a bit, mischief in his eyes. He guessed she was sensitive about her knife, for some reason. Perhaps it was bad form in Sunberth for a woman to openly carry a weapon? That was doubtful, but the best theory he could come up with. The young woman chuckled a little at his question, answering him with words that were no real answer at all. Meanwhile, she was toying with his short hair, her face rather close to his. The warm skin against his didn't make it any easier. He didn't bother to hide his dissatisfaction with that answer, though his current discomfiture might do that for him. It seemed that Mirian wasn't done with him quite yet; her hands in his hair kept Deltan from leaning away as she moved in, soft breath feathering across his cheek as she asked her next question, "When was the last time you shared a bed?" That made him jerk a bit, then wince as his hair was tugged by that involuntary motion. He seemed even more embarrassed as he stammered, then shut his mouth into a firm line and gave her an irritated look. Fine; if she wanted to give poor answers, he could play that game too. In as firm and casual a voice as he could, Deltan said, "Not... Not since I left Syliras, Mirian." It wasn't quite a lie; he had shared a bed every once in a while, when he was a young child and his mother had family staying over. Granted, it wasn't sharing a bed like she meant it, but it was better than admitting he was a virgin. "My turn." Hiding his embarrassment as best he could, Deltan placed his hand firmly upon that knife sheath, turned his head so he looked her in the eyes, and said, "Why do you keep your knife there? Isn't it hard to reach?" Now that he thought of it, that was true. If she were mugged in the streets, she'd have to reach up under her long skirt and pull it free. It was inconvenient, to say the least. Just in case she tried to pull free, he preemptively placed his free hand on the hip on the far side of him. He wanted to make her uncomfortable at least once, after all she'd been doing to him so far. There was a little smirk on his face as he awaited a reaction, blue eyes alight with amused mischief. If the little tells she'd exhibited were anything to go by, he might just get a response that would be worth the effort.

[Mirian Jade]

He twitched at her question and answered carefully. “Not… not since I left Syliras, Mirian.” “I imagine that must have been a long time,” she purred, still against his ear. “My turn.” He made no pretense in his next move, setting his grip quite clearly on her weapon. She froze, limbs becoming stiff and rigid. “Why do you keep your knife there? Isn’t it hard to reach?” Her mind whirled. She repeated his words in her mind, over and over, trying to find some indication of caution or ill motive. Was he honestly asking her, or was this a veiled signal that he knew what she was up to? Luckily her face was next to his, so she could hide her expression of terror as she tried to figure out an answer. “It is… not so hard as one may think,” she finally managed, doing her best to calm her pounding heart and loosen her suddenly tense shoulders. She had to use this to her advantage. She didn’t know how, she just had to find a way. “I could reach it now, if I wanted.” Words tumbled from her mouth before they really moved past her filter. “How about a deal, love?” Before she really knew what she was doing, she closed the distance between her head and his and scraped her teeth along his jaw. One hand slowly dragged over his scalp, not meant to cause pain but meant to display her intent while the other hand danced down his face, his neck, hovering at his collar and then venturing farther downwards, over his chest and stomach and eventually coming to hook through his belt buckle. “You give me this,” she tugged at it without subtlety, “and I’ll show you how to get my knife, hmm?” Improvisation always put her off her game; she knew vaguely that she should be taking it slowly, giving him time, but his awareness had made all her plans suddenly fly away. She was acting on instinct now. The power had been hers, but now that he knew of her weapon, the place of power lay uncertain; she had to get it back, regain control of the situation. Actually getting him into the bed and getting his clothes off seemed the best option; that, at least, was an arena she knew well.

[Deltan Colari]

That little smirk turned into a full grin as Mirian became as tense as a drawn bow. Clearly, he'd gotten her attention. It took her a few moments to figure out how to respond, but she eventually managed to come up with something. "It is... not so hard as one may think," she answered, "I could reach it now, if I wanted." Then, abruptly the old Mirian was back and she leaned her head in. He felt teeth lightly teasing his jaw, and her hand running through his hair in a decidedly pleasant way. This time, he let out a soft, deep 'Mm...' before he could reassert control over himself. By now, Deltan knew he'd end up sleeping with her. It was only a matter of trying to make it memorable for them both. As Mirian offered that impromptu bargain, Deltan chuckled a little. He still seemed nervous, though he now sounded both resigned and excited as well. Keeping his hand on the knife, he said, "If you can get your knife out, you can have them." This was a last-ditch effort to get her to give up on him, though more out of his habit of resistance than out of any real desire to make her stop. By now he was incredibly wound up. In this, he had the advantage; he figured he was stronger than she was, and physical competition was something he excelled at. Deltan knew he would not use his full strength for fear of hurting her, but he certainly planned to make her work to get him to give in. Abruptly, Deltan realized he wanted her to win. Right now, he was excited enough that he knew he'd have a hard time leaving even if Mirian stepped aside and let him. So what if she was disappointed with how he performed? She'd more than insisted, so far.

[Mirian Jade]

He let out a soft groan as her attentions grew stronger, although he didn’t lose himself so far as to forget the game they were playing. It was a sign, though, a sign that she was getting just a little bit of control back. He chuckled at her bargain, which she didn’t know whether to feel good or bad about, and returned with a challenge: “If you can get your knife out, you can have them.” She assumed he meant his clothes, but she didn’t need to know for certain at this exact moment. She now had her opening. Her confidence returned in a flash and a plan began to form. She ran her hand through his hair again, turning to nip at his ear with something like a growl. If he wanted to play this game, she’d play it right back at him. She wanted to see if she could do as he said without letting him see how. She brought her face to his once more, leaning into the precipice of a kiss but remaining separate. She wanted to tease him, distract him, keep him from seeing her thigh beyond his sense of touch. Her hand slid down his neck, dragging gentle nails over his shoulder as her other one, still on his belt buckle, wrapped possessively around the hem of his pants. Over the shoulder went her wandering hand, down his bicep and the crook of his elbow, drawing light scratches to the back of his own hand that lay on her knife. She took a moment to slow as she traveled even farther, to the sips of his fingers and then away, curling into the material of her skirt and bringing it to cover the part of him clutching the knife in an attempt to prevent her from feeling what it was she was doing. On his belt, her fingers began to pull at the buckle, unclasping it as best as she could with only five fingers. Her more mischievous hand quickly made its way to the pocket of her skirt, the pocket that none of her lower clothes ever had. The bottom was slit, making it impossible to actually hold anything but making it possible for her to slide under the material to her knife, brush his hand playfully through the cloth, and draw her knife back out into the open. If Deltan had not moved, grabbed her or otherwise stopped her other hand before it had finished its work, she would undo the buckle of his belt, take hold of the metal and do her very best to rip the thing from the loops of his trousers.