A/N: Because a challenge is a challenge. For notlaura.
"Teagan.." Her Orlesian accent practically purrs his name, and he tenses up as she walks around him. She rests a delicate hand on his chest, and leans in close until he can feel the warm breath on his neck. "Did Eamon not instruct you to please me?" And his phrasing was not quite so.. pointed, but his elder brother had left him with the express desire to take care of any needs that the new Arlessa might have. As she reaches up to taste his lips, he closes his eyes and thinks of any other woman than the wife of his brother.
She pushes him back onto the bed, advancing with swaying hips, and he is struck by all the ways in which she is not so beautiful. The gleam in her eyes betrays the inevitable blackmail that will occur, should he mention this torrid moment to any other soul. The grace of her arms is lost in the knowledge that she would use that grace to execute a perfect slap to his person, if a confrontation happened. Her moist lips would sooner speak harsh words of denial and falsehoods of brutalisation than speak the soft endearments that roll over his skin right now. She is the viper in the nest, but Eamon loves her, and so must he. Reaching up to cup her face, he manages to smile, and he sees the flare of victory in her eyes. She has won this game, and as she rides him to her climax, he eyes the fires of passion in her and at last sees what his brother sees.
The charade lasts for years – every few weeks she pulls him into a sideroom, hands and hot lips all over him, until he moves back to Rainsfere for good. When Eamon takes him to one side, asking him in all earnest seriousness as to why he is leaving, Teagan smiles and rebuffs him with some explanation. Nine months later, Connor is born, and Teagan idly wonders if he has a son. Isolde never tells him, either way.