Rylen had just about decided not to put on a pot of coffee after all when the doorbell rang.
Heart leaping to his throat, he wiped his palms on his jeans and took a last look around his newly pristine kitchen. As soon as Keram had agreed to meet him at his house, he had raced home to clean. Thought about flipping the lights of his car on too, just to get home faster, but if the Chief had ever caught wind, he'd definitely be flayed for that one. At any rate, he'd finished just in time. The dishes stacked in the sink were gone, the mess of coffee grounds around the pot was gone, the empty pizza boxes were cleared out and the counter was scrubbed. He'd even managed to vacuum the carpets, start a fire in the fireplace and make his bed too.
For, well, you know, just in case.
He bit back the butterflies as his hand rested on the knob, took one last deep breath, and opened the door wide.
A biting burst of cold air swept over his face, stunning him for just a moment before Rylen's gaze settled on the glorious visage on his doorstep.
Keram was waiting for him, magical motorcycle helmet in hand and black leather jacket zipped up tight so it clung to her curves. She was just a touch windswept and her pink-grey cheeks were flushed dark, the cold turning her nose and the tips of her pointed ears a lovely bright pink. From just the walk to the front porch, snowflakes had settled onto her black hair and eyelashes and were caught in the maroon folds of the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Andraste's ass, she was beaut—
She sniggered at him as her green eyes fell to his chest. "Hang on, Rylen. I have to make a call." Keram pulled out her phone, held it to her ear and in a high mocking tone she said, "Hello? Police? I'd like to report a crime in my area? Yes, I'm looking at it right now. It's Captain Rylen's ugly ass sweater."
Rylen looked down at himself and almost groaned. Today, the higher-ups at the station had thought it would be fun for the Templars to wear their worst Satinalia sweater over their uniforms. To encourage some festivity, they had claimed. In Rylen's haste to get the house clean, he had forgotten to take the bloody thing off. So he still sported the worst abomination of clothing he owned: a lumpy red knit sweater with a large green pine tree on its front, strung with little golden bells made to look like lights and an assortment of colorful puffballs decorating the tree.
Keram continued to laugh at his expense as she stepped into his dimly lit entry room.
"Ha ha. Where's your Satinalia spirit, huh?"
"Satinalia spirit? Is that what that is? I was going for something a little different." Keram's charcoal-rimmed eyes sparkled with mischief but Rylen hardly noticed as he rambled over his embarrassment, shutting the door behind her.
"Anyway, I'm the only cop around here for miles. So, sadly, your call is not getting answered in a timely matter. But, rest assured that your complaint was duly noted and a report will be filed and submitted eventually. Just not anytime soon. Because unfortunately for you, I'm off du—" Rylen choked on his words as Keram unraveled the scarf from her neck and unzipped her jacket.
Beneath it, she wore a deep forest green sweater with a plunging v neckline. It clung to her body like a second skin and made her cleavage pop more obviously than it already did. And it did all the time. Maker, he tried not to look, but he quickly realized that the rest of her was hardly safer. Keram's dark denim jeans were tight too and made him hotter in the face than they should have. She wore black leather boots that hugged up to her knee and clacked on the floor as she hung up her outer clothes on the empty hooks next to the door and spun on him.
"— 'moffduty…"
Keram smirked and leaned down to capture his lips in a long, greedy kiss that wiped his mind completely and blissfully blank.
"Oh," he murmured as she pulled away from him. "That kind of Satinalia spirit…"
Keram hummed her response and Rylen shivered.
"In that case, I am dressed for the painfully wrong occasion," he laughed, shaking his head.
He led her out of the entry room with its vaulting ceiling, past a never-used dining room with mahogany chairs that had never moved since they were placed there and towards the kitchen. Rylen became more painfully aware that the place wasn't decorated by him with every step he took. The whole house had the distinctly feminine feel to it, with all the fancy mirrors, scented candles on tabletops, framed art on the walls by people with names he couldn't pronounce and bloody throw pillows everywhere. It was his sister, Kendra, that had wanted to decorate his house after hearing that neither Rylen nor Raleigh cared enough to do it themselves. A couch, a bed, a television, and some shit to eat, what else did he need? But Kendra had insisted. She had ordered her younger brothers to hand over their credit cards and went shopping for them after they'd moved in. And it showed. What would Keram think about how obviously fake his place looked? Besides a few areas that were definitively his, the rest looked staged at best. And until earlier today, everything not in constant use had been coated with a thick layer of dust.
Rylen coughed and tried to distract her with conversation. "Er, I can put coffee on if you like? Or I have, erm, other things to drink…probably…"
"How about whiskey? Do you have that, officer?"
Rylen brightened and clutched his chest. "Ah, whiskey! A lass after my own heart!"
She giggled, a short, throaty little thing that made Rylen's heart skip a beat. He grinned broadly as he poured two glasses of the best he had in his cupboard. A seventeen-year-old double wood from his own home of Starkhaven.
Gesturing for her to follow him again, Rylen led her out into his too-spacious living room and placed their glasses gingerly on his low glass-topped coffee table. Keram sat in one corner of his brown leather curl-around couch and looked up at him expectantly.
"Your bike. Where'd you park it, lass?"
"As close to your garage door as I could get it. Figured the eaves gave me some protection." She took a testing sip of the amber liquid in her glass. "That's good. Sweet with a smoky undertone. You really stick to your Starkhaven roots, don't you?"
"Don't distract me by trying to impress me," Rylen laughed. "You know your drinks. Why am I at all surprised? But, your bike. Want me to pull it into the garage?"
Keram giggled again, surrendering her keys. "Suppose if it's not too much trouble, officer."
"Enough with your belittling nicknames, lass. Please call me, Rylen."
"What're you gonna do, officer? Arrest me?"
They exchanged throaty laughs that did wonders to ease Rylen's knotted up nerves as he rolled his eyes at her and headed for the garage door. He didn't bother with his coat, hoping the cold would discourage him from taking too long.
The biting air did clear his head, though that allowed him room to think. He found himself wondering what she thought of the house. She hadn't said a word about it. He wondered why he'd thought it was a good idea to invite her over. What would they do for the next few hours? Maker, he loved being around her, but he couldn't remember a time in his life when he was more nervous than he was now.
Rylen found Keram's bike just outside his garage door like she promised, but he stood in awe for just a moment. It was a colossal thing, big and gaudy and blood red, the pristine glossy paint glinting in the dimness of the street lights. Typical of her, he thought.
He hurried forward as a freezing wind blew right through his sodding sweater. A light dusting of snow covered the bike and he brushed it away as best he could and keyed the ignition. Once it was safely tucked away next to his squad car, he pressed the button to close the big door and rushed back inside, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering.
"It'll be a bloody blizzard, I swear!" he called down the hall. "Lass?" Rylen padded into the living room and found his couch empty. "Keram?"
"Here," came her voice from around the corner.
Rylen rounded back into the entry room and found Keram standing on the stairs to the second floor, glass in hand, looking with interest at the framed pictures on the wall. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
"Your family?"
"Er…yes."
"Why the hesitation?"
"They're old pictures, really."
Keram nodded. "So that attractive and well-dressed lady in the middle here that looks like none of your siblings is definitely not related to you." Rylen didn't answer. "And I take it that she's not someone who you want me to be asking about."
"It's just—"
She waved her hand at him and took a long drag of whiskey. She didn't even grimace when she swallowed. "Why don't you tell me instead how it is that a cop can afford a place like this? Is this what my tax dollars are paying for?"
Rylen returned her smile somewhat uneasily. Grateful as he was for the subject change, maybe he should explain why he still had a picture of his ex-fiancé in his house? Maybe he ought to inform Keram that a lot of this place was nothing but a sham and he was really just a lazy piece of shit that worked too hard? He didn't decorate his house himself. He only ever used the kitchen and his bedroom, really. He had never even bothered to take down the candid family portrait that still included Sárkana, for fuck's sake! He should say something, shouldn't he? But instead, he said, "First of all, I know you don't pay your taxes because I ran your background check personally. Second of all, he doesn't. Technically, I live with my brother, Raleigh."
"Technically?"
"Aye. He's a King's Guardsman and is almost always stationed elsewhere, so it's like I have the place to myself. Here…" Rylen took Keram's empty glass from her and circled back to the kitchen to refill it. He took the free moment to take a deep breath and try to settle the turmoil inside him. He hadn't expected to ever bring up Sárkana and certainly hadn't meant for Keram to ever see her. He was rattled, to say the least. He had to do something about taking that bloody picture down as soon as he could, the sooner the better. Maybe he'd even smash it. Or burn it.
His hands shook a little as he lifted the bottle from its place in the cupboard.
The clack of her heels on the tile drew Rylen's attention from cursing himself with every word he knew. He smelled her first, spiced with a sweet perfume that mingled pleasantly with the flowery smell of her shampoo. Then he felt her press in close, hot right behind him and soft against his back. She pressed light kisses to the shell of his ear and warm lips traveled down to his neck. Keram trapped him against the counter her hands wrapping over his, guiding the bottle down, easing them away from the glass. Rylen tilted his head and Keram took advantage, biting his flesh before kissing angry red marks away.
"This is the part where I offer you more alcohol, isn't it?" Rylen chuckled.
"You could," Keram hummed, tugging the collar of his sweater away to bite his exposed shoulder before her lips and tongue trailed back to his ear. He shuddered.
"B-Back to the couch?"
"Anything you want, Rylen," she purred and Rylen's knees buckled at the way she said his name.
He turned as much as she'd let him, seeking her lips and she answered beautifully with a searing kiss. His heart picked up an erratic beat, he grew flushed and overheated so close to her and, Maker's balls, he strained against his jeans but he kissed her hard. His tongue wound over hers and she pushed deeper, teeth grazing his lip and he couldn't bloody think. Rylen was fucking lost.
"There's a lot of things I want right now," Rylen managed as she pulled away. He was still dizzy, head spinning faster than a halla in summertime.
Keram pressed a lingering kiss on his lips before she walked away. Without her right behind him, Rylen shivered violently. She picked up her refilled glass and watched him with unconcealed satisfaction as she took a sip.
"Then the cozy couch and roaring fireplace are waiting, Rylen."
"Maker, you…"
"First time with a qunari?"
"I, well, yes, but—"
Keram laughed at him as she stretched beneath him and smoothed her hand over his back. It was such a wild and free sound that Rylen found himself wondering why he'd never heard it before now.
"S'not like that really matters though, does it?" he asked her, sinking to one elbow and settling half on top of her as their bodies cooled. He was content to lay here and look at her, even if there wasn't quite enough room for the both of them. Rylen could stay twisted with her all night.
Keram sprawled half propped up on the arm of the couch, one long leg hooking over his hip and one hand tracing patterns on his skin with her nails. He smiled up at her dreamily and pressed soft kisses to her collarbone and over her shoulder.
She sighed for him, a sharp contrast to the sounds she had previously been making. Rylen grinned to himself.
"I don't know, you tell me. Does it matter?"
"Well, there's just…so much more of you."
She threw her head back and laughed again and Rylen felt his heart flutter in the most pleasant way. "It's not my fault if you've only ever dated small women, Rylen. Am I just a novelty to you?"
"No, lass," Rylen sighed. "You're a fucking beauty and a goddess among—"
"I will stop you there," Keram snorted, waving his half-finished sentence away. "I'm going to need more whiskey if you're gonna spout that kind of bullshit at me."
They giggled together as she stretched across the bigger gap between them and the coffee table to grab her drink.
The place was a right mess. The coffee table hadn't been the only thing that was flung away in their zeal to touch each other. Their clothes were scattered over the floor. Rylen's sweater had been tossed so close to the fireplace he half-hoped it would actually land in it and catch fire. At some point, Rylen's whiskey glass had fallen to the floor. Lucky it was mostly empty, and lucky too that the carpet was soft, but he doubted they would have noticed even if it had shattered. Keram had been a whirlwind in her own right, sweeping him up and taking him away for what just might have been the best sex he'd ever had before depositing him again in a sprawled and sweaty mess. She'd always given him a good run for his money and it seemed like sleeping with her would be no different.
They'd hardly noticed that the couch wasn't nearly big enough. They'd hardly noticed the chaos they had left in their wake. And they certainly hadn't noticed the blizzard blowing outside their windows. Passions kept things far too hot inside, like it wasn't even winter when he was in her arms.
Rylen stopped his thoughts with a wry smile.
Sentimental. He always got too sentimental.
"Oh, fuck."
His head snapped up and Rylen searched her face, her eyebrows slightly knit. "What?"
"I hadn't meant to stay so late," Keram muttered, eyes on her wristwatch.
"Oh…well…you're not leaving are you?"
"I'm going to try."
Rylen heaved himself up to squint over the back of the couch at the tiny green LED numbers above his oven. Half past eleven, they said. "Shit…"
"Tell me about it. And I have a meeting with Shokrakar tomorrow too."
"Early?" Rylen hoped he didn't sound too disappointed.
Keram patted his shoulder twice and Rylen begrudgingly rolled off of her and perched on the edge of the couch. She was leaving too soon for his tastes. Where had the bloody time gone? They'd only fucked once or…maybe twice or…Maker, actually, he may have lost count. There was too much heat between them and caresses and giggles enough that time had blended but, hours? He supposed it was possible.
"You sure you'll be alright to ride in this?" Rylen asked her, eying the gap in the curtains of his east facing windows. Snow swirled menacingly on the other side of the thick pane. "When I was out there before, the wind was picking up. I wasn't kidding, it actually did look like a blizzard was going to blow in."
"You know, for a cop, you worry a lot," Keram teased as she picked up her scattered clothes piece by piece and laid them out on the coffee table. "I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."
Rylen watched her lazily pull on her panties, fully aware, no doubt, that he was appreciating the view. They were black lacy things that were soft to the touch, ripe for kissing and smoothing his fingers over. He was delighted to note that the spatter of freckles across her face that he was so enamored with didn't stop there. A light dusting covered her broad shoulders and cascaded down her back, disappearing into the delicate black lace. Then Keram tossed her long hair back over her shoulder, covering the entrancing curve of her spine as she looked back at him with an arched eyebrow.
Smiling sheepishly, he told her, "I like your freckles. You're a downright wonder, lass."
"You should get dressed before you distract me," she replied pointedly. "And close your mouth. You're drooling."
With a heavy sigh, Rylen picked up his jeans from the floor and weighed them in his hands. "You know… you're welcome to stay, lass."
"Oh, am I?"
"Of course! Especially tonight. You'll freeze out there if I let you go. It's probably up to your knees by now. At least!"
"Oh, is it?" she chuckled.
She wasn't saying no and she wasn't cutting him off and her teasing tone emboldened Rylen more than it deterred him. He saw no harm in pestering a little. She could always set him straight if she wanted. She had often enough, already.
"You could catch your death in a storm like that. Keram, if you got pneumonia and died—"
Keram laughed as she pulled her sweater on carefully over her horns. "Now that seems a little extreme, don't you think? I really can't stay, Rylen."
"But, Keram, it's cold outside. And I have a fireplace and a warm bed that, I promise, is far more comfortable than this couch. You can have it if you like," Rylen persuaded. He reached out for her and smoothed his hands down her arms, pulling her close again.
"Katoh will be suspicious," she warned, the smile evident in her voice as he stood to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck. But then she pulled away. She pointed to Rylen's own clothes still abandoned on the floor and ignored his pouting as she waited for him to scramble back into them. "Kaariss might even be waiting for me at the door."
They walked together back through the hall to the entry room. It was degrees colder, even just in the other room, without the added warmth of the fireplace. Rylen shivered and scoured his brain for a more compelling reason she should stay with him as Keram lifted her jacket and helmet from the hanger by the door.
"They can't miss you that badly," Rylen tried. "Not like I'll miss you, anyway."
"Oh, I'm sure you will. You'll think of me tonight, won't you?"
"Only the way I always do." His response was next to automatic, but as soon as the admission was out in the open, he wished he could take it back. Rylen bit down hard on his tongue and waited for her to make a stinging joke of his hint of feelings.
But Keram only smiled at him. "Thank you for having me over, Rylen. This evening has been…" Her green eyes sparkled for a moment. "So…nice and warm."
"Glad to do it anytime, lass," Rylen said, reaching for her waist. He pulled her close to him and kissed her. He'd meant for it to be a chaste thing, a simple 'goodnight' kiss, but Keram pushed for more. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him deeper, mouth moving feverishly over his and, by Andraste, he never wanted it to end. And Maker knew he didn't want her to open that bloody door…
When they pulled away, Rylen found himself glancing at the doorknob and thought that maybe one more push wouldn't hurt. "It's very cold outside, lass. You can stay if you'll like. I'll give you my bed and I can take Raleigh's. Keram, you're more than welcome."
"Ooh, an oxman spending the night. But what would your neighbors think?"
"To hell with my fucking neighbors, Keram," Rylen snorted. "You're just stalling now, I can tell. You don't really want to go out into that storm, do you?"
Keram seemed to hesitate for a moment but she shook her head at him. "I've gotta go home. Goodnight, Rylen." She opened the door herself and a bitter cold wind hit them both like an oncoming bronto.
Indeed, a blizzard had blown in, and snow swirled in thick sheets, even on his porch. Rylen could barely see the houses across the street and even the streetlamps were nothing but a looming dull glow. And the snow on the ground was thick. Perhaps not quite knee deep for Keram, but deep enough to be a hassle. It would be a slog to get to the garage and a worse one to get her bike out and clear a path down his driveway. He may even need to get his sodding shovel to help her.
Maker, here we go.
Rylen's fingers had just brushed his heavy wool jacket hanging on the wall when Keram slammed the door shut and snapped the bolt into place.
"You know, Rylen, I thought about it, and after weighing all my options, I think it's a little too cold outside after all. You wouldn't mind if I crashed here, would you?"
Rylen grinned and couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling up in his throat. " 'Course. Another drink then?"