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Post by orby on Jun 5, 2019 15:08:10 GMT
Caim was still processing his realization as to the nature of this whole interaction, half expecting kind but patronizing sighs and exasperation over his denseness. It would seem the predictable outcome here. Strangers couldn't be expected to be infinitely patient with his foolishness, and doubtlessly they'd rather carry on enjoying themselves than deal with someone who couldn't tell the difference between flirting and friendly chatter.
That was about where his head was at, so Miri abruptly sliding into his lap did a fine job of derailing that train of thought. Said train crashed spectacularly and was left to burn as the tiefling just blinked at the woman for a moment, hands still hovering where she'd plucked the flask out of them.
Oh. Ah. Alright then, nevermind. Message received. That it was an unexpected message didn't make it any less clear.
Perhaps he was thinking about things the wrong way all this time, honestly. It didn't seem like the sort of thing anyone would ever look to him for, strange and awkward a creature as he was, but here were two whole people very clearly laying out such an interest despite that. There didn't seem to be a hint of insincerity from either of them, and it almost seemed ruder to think they didn't actually know what they wanted.
Miri's hand on his was as straightforward as her words -- pleasant, friendly, more intimate than anything he was expecting tonight but not unwelcome. His palm was soft under her fingers as if in contrast to her calluses, the too-smooth skin of someone who'd rarely done anything more strenuous than writing and seldom without gloves. Just another way he seemed out of place compared to them. But it wasn't as if she was recoiling from the feel of it or chiding him over his obvious lack of experience with anything. Caim watched the interaction of their hands with a thoughtful gaze, quietly for a few seconds before his fingers curled tentatively around her thumb.
So...alright, then.
"...If you don't mind," he said after those long and pensive few moments. There was a carefulness in how he seemed to be choosing his words, but when he looked up to meet both of their eyes, one after the other, there was no shame there. Just a hint of curiosity. "I think I'd like to."
It was just another line in a long list of things he'd never done before. But that didn't mean he wasn't interested in trying.
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Post by moralhazard on Jun 6, 2019 9:26:41 GMT
There was a long moment where Caim stared down at her thumb gently stroking his palm. Miri waited, patient, maybe a little amused. She wasn’t used to someone whose lap she was sitting in needing to really think about whether he wanted her there. That wasn’t to say that every person she was interested in went home with her – Miri didn’t have nearly enough free time for that – but usually by this stage the decision was pretty quick. There was no rush, though, and Miri didn’t speak again, letting Kieran make his own disclaimer as well.
Caim’s fingers curled over her thumb, and Miri grinned. She still didn’t speak, letting him respond how he wanted. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising after the long silence, but Miri certainly marked the care in Caim’s words, the fact that he felt the need to hedge them in with uncertainty and a quick check that the offer was really meant. When he looked at her, though, there was only curiosity, no shame, nothing that Miri would have called dangerous.
Miri grinned a little wider. “Good choice,” she promised. There was a secret laugh for the three of them tucked into her voice, rich and promising.
Miri glanced back at Kieran. Somehow, what should have been a simple movement of head and shoulders seemed to settle her more comfortably against Caim, one bare shoulder brushing against his front. “Shall we settle the tab, then?” Miri asked. There wasn’t any rush, not really, but she had no reason to stay in Mistshore any longer, and it seemed they might as well leave the Dusk and Dawn behind. The side of Miri’s hand slid lightly along Caim’s stomach, and emerged back into sight with what was, unmistakably, Kieran’s coin purse.
There was no physical contact between Miri and the half-drow at the moment, so there could be no mistaking that – well – Miri had clearly been holding onto the purse for a moment or two. She winked at him, and effortlessly tossed it the distance between them, returning it as casually as she’d lifted it. “You did say I could hold whatever I wanted,” Miri said, cheerfully.
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Post by sojourn on Jun 6, 2019 20:15:41 GMT
M iri settled into Caim's lap and for a moment it looked as though Caim was entirely unsure about what was happening. It wouldn't have been the first time Kieran overstepped his boundaries, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, the half-drow chewing on the inside of his cheek. His violet gaze was drawn to their hands, to the rich, warm tones of their skin, and he felt the way his pulse picked up, the way his heart fluttered just a little bit faster almost in spite of the whisper of doubt that tickled the back of his neck like hot breath. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything— Maybe he wasn't what either of them really wanted— Caim said more than just a shy yes—his affirmative response was basically a curious expression of interest. Looking back up at them both, bodies together, Kieran swallowed the sudden sense of worry that seethed beneath the enthusiasm growing brighter in his narrow chest, not expecting to meet Miri's gaze. His smile faltered anyway, but whether it was just a normal reaction at the mention of paying the bill or because he worried he wasn't really needed in this scenario despite his bold promises, he hid that truth from his well-carved, expressive face. He'd offered a round of drinks. He'd offered to take them home. These were good choices? Yes. Miri affirmed them. No one said no to either of the things he'd laid so casually on the proverbial table between them and he had absolutely no shame about such affirmation, the realization that no one was objecting the kind of heated encouragement that crawled down his spine and burned away his doubts. His smile returned just as his hands began to move toward where he kept his coins, still watching the pair, but Miri shifted also, almost tauntingly, until he realized he was staring at his personal belongings in her fingers. The half-drow blinked, unsure whether to feel chagrined, betrayed, annoyed, or aroused that anyone who'd bothered to pick his pockets had just as much nerve to return it all. The timing was right, obviously. Kieran smirked, catching his coins with well-practiced swiftness in a downward, almost defensive motion. He could have been angry, of course. He could have let such a realization sour the moment—had she picked his pocket before she stepped in to fight strangers beside him or after? Did it even matter? "That's not what I meant, thank y' much." He all-but purred with a roll of his eyes, making a point to step toward them both before he turned to wave at the barkeep, more or less inserting his short, dark self between their bodies and the stained surface of the bar, "For th' rest 'f th' evenin', I'll keep 't in mind t' be more specific 'bout what I want since y' seem t' know exactly what you're doin' with those hands." His back was to them both despite being pressed so close and thus his grin was also hidden from immediate view in its coyness. He paid for their drinks and tucked the change away into the small pouch, making quite a slow, touch-filled performance out of turning around, emphasizing how he chose not to replace the purse from where it'd been stolen on his person. Instead, he continued his mischievous movement, hands roaming not over one person but two, not even bothering to be sneaky about his intentions of tucking his coins away with one of them— ((1 for Miri, 2 for Caim. No Slight of Hand because he's not at all trying to hide what he's doing ... hiding things in addition to blatantly copping all the feels. xzFFOoCz1d2 )) —grinning in his obviousness and taunting in his proximity, voice purposefully quiet, too short in comparison to either of them to brush lips against ears flirtatiously so much as tickle the skin of a coppery neck and a tawny shoulder while he finished making a completely wicked mockery of anything Miri had intentionally done with her pickpocketing earlier, "Since I can't seem t' hang ont' that m'self very well, keep that safe for th' walk home an' I'll find 't later while findin' everythin' else, hmm?" Promise made, teeth briefly toyed with the ring through his lower lip before his hands slipped away, fingers light over them both as they trailed over different but equally interesting bodies, Kieran shifted on his feet to indicate leaving the tavern instead of giving the entire tent full of hardly sober patrons any more of a theatrical show than the three of them had already shared was becoming an increasingly appealing ideal in his not so humble opinion, "It's a bit 'f a walk t' change venues, but I know a few shortcuts an' will try t' keep things interestin' on th' way." He hummed, any hesitance, let alone shyness, having melted away with so much permissive excitement. More than content to lead them out into the grungy streets of Mistshore and make a swift path toward his home in the Dock Ward, the half-drow waited with an eager sort of patience on his companions. 1d2
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Post by orby on Jun 7, 2019 20:18:25 GMT
These two would probably kill him. And not in the usual sense of meeting strangers in Mistshore.
Both of them were so casual in their contact, comfortable and intimate even as they dealt with the practical part of finishing up a night at a bar. Caim's hand fell automatically to Miri's waist as she leaned against him, instinctually making sure to support her against the unlikely event of a fall, and it felt like no more out of place a gesture than any of theirs. There was as much novelty in being able to touch so freely as there was in actually being touched in return.
The latter was definitely nice, though. Caim just laughed softly, clearly having missed something with regards to the coin pouch being passes back and forward but content to let them banter. Kieran pressed into their personal space smoothly and Caim just shifted a bit to accommodate it. His breath caught slightly at the feeling of wandering hands, breath tickling over skin, but it just dragged another quiet laugh out of him for lack of any actual words.
Just...nice. Very nice. He didn't want to interrupt any of it with his fumbling attempts at speech, not the touching or their easy teasing or the cozy yet charged air of it all.
Yeah, maybe this was something best saved for after they'd headed out.
With a twinge of guilt, he looked back to the drink he'd only been sipping at thus far. Was it rude to waste most of a drink someone else had bought (and spiked with their own personal stash on top of that)? It certainly felt that way. The drink stared back at him almost accusingly, and he hesitated a moment longer before shoving down the extremely recent memories of what drinking that shit was like, grabbing the glass and finishing it in one go.
One stuttering go, anyway. A go nearly interrupted by the urge to cough it all right back up because holy shit. But he managed to get it down in the end, eyes clenched shut and nose scrunched up. It was harder to remember not to make a face at the taste with so much of it burning a lava flow down his throat, and regardless any attempt to hide his distaste for the stuff was probably defeated anyway by the full-body shudder that Miri could doubtlessly feel leaning up against him like that.
But it got done. He did it. Goddamn. The glass was set back down just a bit harder than necessary and Caim took a moment to remember how to breathe without coughing before cementing on a smile and opening his eyes again.
"A-alright," he tried, voice slightly hoarse with the lingering sting, and he winced slightly before trying again. "Alright, let's..."
Leaving. Yes. He absently helped Miri back to standing with a hand under her elbow before getting to his feet as well. It was easy enough not to think too much beyond leaving with his brain still stuck on the burning in his throat and the godawful aftertaste. Alcohol had magnificent ability for distraction even without the actual drunkenness part. Amazing.
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Post by moralhazard on Jun 8, 2019 9:32:12 GMT
Sleight of Hand to give Caim Kieran's coinpurse: QrGZFk5T1d20+5
Miri saw something like a flicker of doubt on Kieran’s face; his throat moved as he swallowed it down, and she wondered. She kept her gaze firmly on him as he started to reach for the coin purse that was now, in fact, held between her fingers. She could see the moment when he realized, a little startle that seemed to finish shocking him out of whatever brief funk he’d been in. One heartbeat passed; Miri could count them with hers and very nearly with Caim’s, tucked against the tiefling as she was. Caim’s hand on her waist was hardly necessary; her perch on his lap was more than secure. Miri encouraged him anyway, shifting a little more against him, her free hand settling on top of his, still watching Kieran as she tossed the coins back to him. He smirked, and Miri grinned, broader, relieved. It wasn’t so much that she feared some kind of retribution – they were only coins – but she’d made some promises already, and it would’ve been a shame to ditch the handsome half-drow. She was very, very curious about the tattoos curling along his arm and the suggestion that there might be more to them, but not curious enough to go to bed with someone who got annoyed by a little theft between friends. Well, not that they’d been friends at the time, per se, but Miri was feeling increasingly sure they would be. Miri grinned. “You’re more than welcome to try specifying,” she said, lightly. “But sometimes they have a mind of their own.” One hand was still on Caim’s; the other, now free, traced an easy line up Kieran’s back, with just enough pressure to be felt through his clothing. Her fingers lingered at his neck, making light, meaningless patterns against his skin. Kieran turned back to them, hands not hardly shy as he tucked the coinpurse back away against Miri. She was laughing now, shaking slightly against Caim, not bothering to hide it – or the faint shiver that swept through her at his greedy touch. “Mmm,” Miri grinned. If Kieran thought the coin purse would be where he’d left it – he was more of a fool than he seemed. There was an increasing amount of attention on them. Miri didn’t mind a bit of an audience, but… well, the tavern was a bit, ah, sticky. She didn’t want to dislodge Caim as aggressively as she had Kieran – she had the feeling he needed a gentler touch – and so she was still sitting in his lap when the now-relaxed tiefling went for his glass, and choked it down with a shudder that wracked him so hard Miri was, honestly, half-expecting him to choke and vomit against her. She tried her best not to laugh, and almost succeeded. “Let’s,” In a less sultry person, the noise Miri was making might have been called a giggle. Caim did his best to help her to her feet, and Miri waited for him to stand as well. She stroked his back, soothingly, long, even strokes, and tucked Kieran’s coinpurse neatly into Caim’s pocket as she did, stepping forward past him and Kieran to exit the tavern through the front flap of the tent. Miri stretched her arms out to the side once there was space, a long, smooth motion; with the tent flap open, the light of the fire inside gleamed off smooth dark skin, dancing over the well-formed muscles of her shoulders and back, muted to a glow against the leather corset her shoulderblades disappeared into. She cracked her neck from side to side, and turned back to Caim and Kieran, standing, smiling, with her hands on her waist now, evidently in no rush at all. If the cold bothered her – as well it might, given how much of her upper body was exposed – she gave no sign of it whatsoever. “Well then,” Miri grinned, taking a few steps backward, putting a little distance between the three of them and the tent flap. Mistshore wasn’t known for smooth and easy streets, but Miri moved as casually as if they’d been on smooth-paved cobblestones, and never erred in her steps, finding makeshift footholds in the ground as if she didn’t even need to look. She let Kieran and Caim follow, confident they would, studying both of them. “What kind of interesting did you have in mind?” There was no firelight now, but something gleamed in Miri’s eyes anyway, and she grinned almost challengingly at Kieran, lips parted slightly, tongue gliding smoothly over the lower one. 1d20+5
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Post by sojourn on Jun 8, 2019 15:52:31 GMT
K ieran's childhood hadn't been one full of affection or attention—if he'd ever been in the company of one or both of his parents for any length of time at all, he didn't remember the touch of his mother nor the voice of his father. Someone had generously allowed him to live—no one had left him to die of exposure as soon as his half-bloodedness had been revealed at birth—but whether or not that someone had ever really wanted him was a total unknown to himself. He'd survived infancy, but had it been on purpose or by sheer determination? He'd probably never know. His earliest memories weren't pleasant ones of doting family but of hunger and fear, and the act of thinking back on a childhood spent passed between orphanages and passed over because of his obvious heritage weren't really very comforting ones. Most of his associations with the touch of others weren't actually positive, either, had he ever been asked to be honest, but those moments that stuck with him, that shaped him into someone that sought the protection and betterment of others as well as himself had more often than not begun with the rare treat of genuine warmth and kindness. Affection, whether real or simply perceived, was like fire and Kieran had spent much of his troubled youth trying not to be the moth that got burned. To say that he'd been entirely successful would have been too generous, and the remnants of mistakes made and risks endured weren't the kinds of things that marred his inked, charcoal skin on the outside so much as whispered and seethed their devaluing secrets inside, hidden from view and otherwise unspoken. This sort of boldness was actually surprisingly uncommon from the half-drow, and the extension of trust that had been encouraged by adrenaline and alcohol and (from his perspective) perceived camaraderie would have been a hard loss had he found himself suddenly left out of the moment. It would have been his own fault, he would have reminded himself, had their not been the assurance of fingers tracing along his spine and between his shoulder blades while he counted coins against the chipped and marred bar's countertop. It was made only slightly more complicated once he realized he'd been handed Miri's flask and he couldn't remember when, distracted by a moment of his own mischievous doing. Miri's lightness was obviously meant in playful flirtatiousness but it was profound enough for Kieran that he had to count twice before shoving coins across a resistant, sticky surface, face turned away and pale eyelashes fluttering. Don't overthink this, Kieran. Just don't. He chided himself, wrestling with his desire for a fun, casual encounter with interesting strangers and his guarded sense of needfulness. The barkeep took his coins and his violet gaze flicked down to the flask, tucking it away for a moment as if it belonged to him. Miri's lingering featherlight touch was the kind of encouragement that enticed his own hands wander when he turned, willing to take the chance on caressing not one but two strangers while making a game of poorly hiding his own already once-stolen coin purse in very real hopes that meant he'd find himself touched in return. If the small bag remained where he slipped it without any attempt at stealth or skill, he didn't really care, palms drifting over warm bodies, Caim's and Miri's so very different even if their enjoyable reactions were just similar enough: smiles and laughter. Kieran allowed a little space when Caim shifted to reach for his drink, still close enough to both of them to feel the warmth of their bodies, slipping his arm behind the tiefling to rest his previously wandering hand against the other man's back as if offering solidarity in his decision to down the remains of his lukewarm drink as well as just to enjoy the more than friendly contact that had been agreed to. The coppery creature sputtered and choked but admirably kept everything down and the half-drow chuckled. It was not coincidence that his fingers brushed Miri's when she, too, reached behind the body she was perched on to find somewhere else to stash his coins in a continuance of the game he'd willingly initiated. They were moving, everyone on their feet, weaving through the crowded Dawn and Dusk Tavern with Kieran's hands on them both to direct them as if they even needed that at all. The rush of cold air felt good once they were outside; it was a marked difference from the stale heat inside the tavern. Trailing his hands away, he paused to remember the young woman's flask, reaching for it again inside a pocket, ignoring the small book he'd tucked away—the reason he'd endured the stench of Mistshore in the first place. That flicker of unexplained emotion washed over his face again, jaw flexing, but his violet gaze washed over Caim and Miri to bring himself back into focus on the moment. He didn't ask permission to open the flask she'd brought with her, she'd already shared once with them both, nor did he ask forgiveness for the lengthy swig he took, the burn of the whiskey inside far more pleasant than the nauseating lukewarmness of the ale he'd been served. He hissed, expression widening into a grin as Miri took the lead like she knew where she was going. Kieran chose to take just one more drink as if he was considering answering her question, reaching with his free hand to tangle his lithe, calloused fingers with the tiefling's if he allowed it and tug them both forward, more than capable of keeping up with Miri but inviting Caim to be his anchor, to set the walking pace. He cast the other man something way more intense than simple sideways glance, smiling warmly, and let his violet gaze wander over coppery, well-carved features, traveling with obvious curiosity up over horns and back again to dwell for a moment on warm-toned lips before looking away. Finally, his so-called answer to Miri was to step into her personal space, brushing up against her with Caim in tow and making a point to press her flask back with the quirk of a white-tufted eyebrow, "Well, first we need t' be walkin'—" He hummed quietly, hips shifting in a gentle nudge toward the direction he knew they should be going to guide her, to guide the unlikely three of them, his drow-blessed darkvision allowing him to catch onto her not so subtle expression, greedily taking in her features without the need for firelight just as curiously as he'd taken in Caim's, teeth toying with the ring through his lip before he tilted his head to indicate their path because he was admittedly unable to look over Miri's shoulder, close enough that he tickled warm skin with his words. Free arm snaked around hers, unwilling to admit out loud the self-indulgent thrill of being between to willing bodies, meandering instead of rushing, "—but that way, folks."
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