Thoroughly Impaled

DISCLAIMERS: Flight violence and nudity.


Xanadu Weyr - Guest Weyr
Rustic and simple, this one-roomed cottage sits at the edge of the forest near the feeding grounds. The decor is spartan with a wide, comfortable bed and a couch, table and chairs and small kitchenette. Kept stocked with food and drink, the bed freshened with sheets and coverlets after each use by the weyrstaff, it's nothing more than a place to give riders participating in mating flights a bit of privacy when they need it.

Over the last few days, Koth's glowing has become a little more obvious, and she's been a little more, uh, combative than usual with the males who cross her path. Or the males that she puts in her path. No doubt Glorioth has been enjoying that aspect of all of this to some extent, even if not for the reason most males might. V'ro has been largely the opposite of combative, though downright pushy when he came across the busy F'yr the night before last before the bronzerider managed to free himself.

It's early evening now, not yet dark but starting to head that way. Koth is circling the feeding pens and some of the more experienced males know that it's time. Does Glorioth? Whether it's for her sake or V'ro's, there's a flash of a challenge to the bronze, and her voice, demanding attention if not compliance, « Do you think you can catch me, Glorioth? Are you faster than them? »

V'ro is lost and overwhelmed by his lifemate in a way that he's never been before. Their lectures made it sound so easy, and it's not like he had to worry about lack of experience with the outcome. But this? Well, he's at least not holed away in his weyr, instead standing bare-chested on the path toward the guest weyr it was suggested they go to, but making no actual progress toward it. Fortunately someone's bound to throw him over their shoulder or something to take him the rest of the way as Koth dives into the feeding pens onto her chosen prey. It's a herdbeast, not a dragon. So far.

Has Koth been more combative than usual? Let's be honest, Glorioth wouldn't notice if she were. It's not because he lacked for engaging in any clash she chose to start, including toeing that well-established rule his rider has about not drawing ichor among friends. It's because it doesn't occur to the bold and daring bronze to observe things outside of himself or to question the acceptance of his due. In this case, it simply happened that Koth served his interests in tussling around in some of his most favorite activities for as many days as he can presently remember.

Given Glorioth's displeasure at the one not-quite-dawn that he awoke without F'yr nearby as a result of Koth's call, he might well have ignored this next communication from the green, especially since the bronze has not shown remote interest in any of the greens that have been turning glowy and rising in Xanadu. One might think he were destined to simply be a celebate dragon forever (it would serve him right given his entirely self-centered outlook and oblivious perversions of the ideals of honor and glory). Only… Koth has Glorioth's number.

It's like a switch being flipped for the bronze. One moment, his focus was on the quest at hand. The next, his sharp focus is answering her with a, « HA HA! » of challenge answered. « NEVER DOUBT MY VIRILITY, MY TIRELESS TREASURE. ALL WILL BASK IN THE RADIANCE OF MY VALOR WHEN I HAVE SWEPT THROUGH THE UNWORTHY TO BRAVELY CAPTURE YOU. »

Briefly, it might even sound like he's excited about Koth rising. But no, the moment he descends on the feeding grounds to blood his kill and make EXCESSIVELY PERSONAL (too rude to be written here) COMMENTARY about his competition, he's ready to claim his natural due once more as THE MOST HEROICALLY HEROIC OF ALL KOTH'S PURSUERS. « ONWAAAAAaaaaAAAARD! » He's ready to get this party started. Maybe there will be ichor.

It does prove to be F'yr's broad shoulder over which V'ro is tossed as the flush-cheeked blonde comes hurrying along from the direction of the weyrling training grounds. "V'ro?" is inquired with some concern, but there's plenty of anxiety going on with the big bronzerider between this being the first time Glorioth's opted to fly and, oh yeah, the possibility that he may not get a chance to lose his virginity outside of the frenzy of flight. He'll get V'ro to the guest weyr one way or another, ready to back off from the greenrider once they're there, if he wants a little space in the small building that rapidly fills with other bodies - men, women, younger, older, and all with one interest right now: V'ro.

Any other time, Koth would surely agree that indefinite celibacy would suit the bronze very well. But right now he's a familiar outlet for her more vigorous feelings, and V'ro's connection to F'yr must count for something in there, too, maybe.

The glowing green only bothers with the one beast before she's snapping and hissing at a male she's decided is too close, making contact enough to graze hide but not so much to draw ichor, and then she's leaping skywards with a challenging scream, and an abrupt alacrity that only the smallest of her suitors are likely to match in the first few moments. « Don't hurt yourself, boys, » definitely has an emphasis on yourself. Koth doesn't care if they hurt each other.

The greenrider doesn't resist his savior in the slightest, so it's probably good that F'yr found him and is taking him where he actually needs to go. Once they're there, V'ro makes noises about F'yr getting too far away, but he won't cling to him like some big, hot, blond security blanket. "I'm sorry," is murmured to the bronzerider, who he probably didn't figure would even end up here considering Glorioth's lack of interest up to this point.

Any other time is not now. And yet… Glorioth does not seem vastly different from his usual, self-centered self. Sure, this is a new kind of competition, but he still has never known a doubt or a consequence, and thus his candid observation to Koth is not meanness, just Gloriocity. « FEAR NOT, KOTH, » at least he still remembers her name? « THESE DREADFULLY EFFEMINATE EXAMPLES OF EXCRETA — » ROMANTIC STUFF UP IN HERE, Y'ALL, « CANNOT BEGIN TO SURPASS MY SPEED AND SUPREMACY. » What could, after all? The theme song is especially loud, of course, and, as always, off key. But there are those delightful clashes of weapons and gouts of flame enlarged and enlivened to accent the occasion of Glorioth's FIRST FLIGHT. Oh, wait, was this about Koth? No one sent Glorioth a memo, and even if they did, the words were about someone less interesting than himself, so he wouldn't have read it anyway. GOOD LUCK EVERYBODY.

It would be poetic justice to say that Glorioth's confidence in himself wasn't justified. He's not worried about not hurting other dragons, though nor is he especially out for anything beyond their PUBLIC SHAME for not being as fast, as strong, as smart as he. But justice is blind to all the mutterings, curses and downright dirty looks and actions levied the young bronze's way. He might be the smallest bronze in the Weyr (mayhaps on Pern itself), but he's coming for Koth and she can fight all she wants, but he's going to BRAVELY STAB HER WITH— erm. Nevermind. It's going down though, rest assured.

F'yr, for his part, has a tight jaw but doesn't stray far from V'ro since that's where the greenrider wishes him and frankly, especially with Glorioth's determination to catch Koth and drag her out of that sky for — WELL, FRANKLY, GLORIOTH DOESN'T REALLY KNOW YET, BUT SOMETHING BRAVE AND HEROIC AND NOBLE, NO DOUBT. F'yr has a better idea than his dragon about what's coming, but his eyes are all for V'ro even as his mind merges, possibly more deeply than it has yet to do, with his lifemate's. That can't possibly end poorly for anyone, right?

WRONG! It's not that Glorioth is cruel, and thus not that F'yr is cruel to V'ro when Glorioth does sink his talons into Koth to get her to STAY THERE with him, but that Glorioth (and thus F'yr) is carelessly single-minded. If someone gets hurt, it's only because they stood between F'yr and his goal, or fought him unnecessarily. Glorioth wins, this is what winning looks like, right? It's F'yr's strong hands on V'ro, dragging V'ro nearer, tearing at clothes that are suddenly much too cumbersome. Why do humans even wear clothes? At least some things are easier to get off without tearing, so F'yr won't be without clothes completely when all this is over.

It's a good thing the outcome of this flight doesn't hinge on anyone's opinion of Glorioth. Even if Koth did instigate his involvement in this particular adventure. On purpose. That's beside the point. « But can you surpass mine, my audacious hunter? » Koth isn't going to make it easy, that's for certain.

Unfortunately for the just as inexperienced green, she might burn hard and fast, but it fizzles out just as quickly. When Glorioth latches onto Koth, she makes him pay the toll of ichor for his trouble, but ultimately lust wins out to relax her into being a much more pleasant, and largely but not entirely less sharp, companion.

With Koth's initial struggle comes V'ro's. He wanted F'yr here, but in those first few frantic moments, he only wants to get away. But just as Koth isn't much physical match to Glorioth, neither is V'ro to F'yr. If the bronzerider ends up with a couple claw marks for his trouble, well, he probably deserves it.

It's hours before F'yr is rousing from the exhaustion induced by Glorioth's TIRELESS AND BRAVE EFFORTS TO ENSURE KOTH WAS THOROUGHLY IMPALED, and it's the body's needs that call the bronzerider out of the bed where he was, until then, contentedly passed out partially on top of the greenrider, a possessive arm slung across the man's chest. He up and stumbling to find — well, he just goes outside because that's easier than finding whatever might be inside the unfamiliar weyr to take care of that kind of business. When he returns, he's looking substantially more awake, and slightly flushed. This might be because he's still totally nude and that was probably a great show for anyone outside.

The bronzerider getting up must stir the greenrider slowly back toward something like consciousness. But it sort of happens all at once in a jerk of alertness to find that F'yr is GONE. So when F'yr comes back inside, V'ro is looking a little, well, upset honestly. And then confused because of the reappearance. "I thought you left," comes out a little more accusatory than perhaps is warranted. And now that that little rush of adrenaline has passed, there's a groan as V'ro realizes how sore he is, and he curls back up against his pillow.

F'yr stills when he realizes V'ro is awake and looking at him, and looking that way at him. Like he might not be glad to find that it's F'yr here with him. He takes a couple of halting steps back toward the bed, "I just had to piss." ROMANTIC, NO? There's a pause and then a quiet, "Should I have left? I thought…" Obviously, given what they had been building toward— maybe building toward? F'yr thought he'd be welcome here. But the groan does have him coming closer, in spite of his misgivings, crawling onto the bed and reaching a hand toward V'ro, only to pause and hover, because… those body bruises. "Shit." It's soft, fervent. "Are you okay, V'ro?"

"No," is emphatic as the greenrider reaches for the hand reaching for him to draw F'yr along with it toward him. "I thought you just left me here. I don't want to be alone. I want you here. With me." So that's that cleared up sort of? "Are you okay?" V'ro is just going to ignore the part where he feels, and sort of looks, like he's been trampled by a herd of herdbeasts, apparently.

It is a small blessing but a blessing nonetheless that F'yr does not mistake the first answer as answer for the last question, even if that answer never coming draws lines of concern on the bronzerider's brow. "This is where I want to be," is the quiet return a moment after he's been drawn in toward the greenrider by the connection of those hands. Carefully, like V'ro might be fragile and precious (where was that handling earlier, huh, bronzerider?), the big blond gathers the greerider into his arms. This much, at least, is not foreign to them, not entirely. "I'm sorry that I worried you. I wasn't… wasn't quite sure where I was and—" NATURE CALLED. One hand comes up to cup V'ro's face, thumb brushing across his cheek. "I hurt you." And boy, does F'yr ever feel like shit about that one. He probably means the bruises and not the accidental worry. "There's always numbweed here," he must be remembering from the brief tour of the place. "And food and water and…" V'ro probably went on the same tour which might be why F'yr trails off before asking, "Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?" A HEALER, V'RO. DO YOU NEED A HEALER?

There might be a wince as V'ro is gathered into F'yr's arms, but it's right where he wants them both to be, apparently. "I haven't been this tired since that first week after we impressed," he says, tilting his head against the touch of F'yr's hand. "But I'm okay. Really. Just…" Everything hurts! "Sore." He's quiet for a few moments after that, relaxing in the bronzerider's arms that he at least doesn't seem afraid of or anything. Then, "I have to pee. I can do that. You can get us something to drink?" And then he's tentatively squirming away to go take care of what needs to be taken care of.

It might not have occurred to F'yr that V'ro might be afraid of him. It certainly has occurred to F'yr that those bruises and all the rest cannot be comfortable. He keeps the greenrider for as long as V'ro is content to be kept, just looking at him, the man's demeanor quiet, but maybe he's just as tired. His blue eyes are settled on V'ro's, only darting away here and again to trace the lines of his face, perhaps linger on his lips, but he doesn't make any move to do anything about that. When the greenrider makes his needs known, the bronzerider's chin tips down in a nod that brings his face closer to V'ro's, his forehead briefly moving to press to the greenrider's while his eyes slide closed for only a moment. He breathes heavy and then opens his eyes once more to shift back toward the edge of the bed and over to the place in the simple structure that holds the food, the drink and other supplies. By the time V'ro is back, F'yr has cleaned up and has a glass of water ready for the greenrider, holding one of his own where he leans against the counter of the small kitchenette. He's contemplating the water in his glass in a way that might not be entirely normal, but at least he's not outwardly freaking out, right?

When V'ro returns, his first stop is to find something to wrap around himself, whether a sheet or a shirt to put on - did any of them survive? -, perhaps aware that this was not F'yr's most ideal outcome. Then he's coming over for that water, and he drinks nearly the whole glass before his focus settles on the bronzerider. He looks uncertain, and like he wants to say something but he must not be able to decide what it is he wants to say.

Blue eyes track the greenrider as he moves, drawn away from that fascinating water. Maybe F'yr was contemplating surface tension. Now he's contemplating it a different way. He watches V'ro wrap the sheet around himself. (No, RIP shirts. Those weren't too hard to take off without tearing. The pants, however, survived for both. Lucky them.) F'yr finishes his glass before the greenrider and sets it aside. F'yr might want to say something too, but he's stuck with similar problems, so there's this lovely awkward silence to share for a few moments. Then the bronzerider is pushing off the counter and moving toward the greenrider. He's a little careful as he draws near, but he reaches for him, one arm snaking behind his low back while the other hand comes up to tip his chin before F'yr is dropping his mouth into place overtop V'ro's to kiss him, gently but soundly. Maybe that's better than words for the moment? Hopefully, it's a lot less awkward than the silence.

Kissing is one of V'ro's favorite ways of communicating with the bronzerider, of course, and right now is no exception. He meets those familiar lips with a similarly gentle but earnest affection. See! Everything's fine. Never mind the slight flinch when he tries to press the kiss into something a little more firm, and a frustrated sound finds its way out of his throat. Apparently someone bit his lip at some point! "I'm sorry," he murmurs when the kiss breaks, tucking his head against F'yr's shoulder. "I'm glad it was you, though."

WHO WOULD EVER BITEOh. Even as F'yr's fingers are gently sliding into V'ro's hair to massage lightly across his scalp, he's stilling. There's the flutter of his heartbeat under the greenrider's ear, the draw of his breath once it starts again, but silence for a moment otherwise. "What do you have to be sorry for?" A beat, "I'm the one who—" but F'yr's jaw clamps shut instead of acknowledging it aloud again.

V'ro lifts his head again, green eyes meeting blue as a hand comes up to hold the bronzerider's cheek. "I'm sorry it's… upsetting?" Is that the right word? He's not sure, but the sentiment remains. "But I promise I'm okay. I just… are you okay?" Because for all the evidence of a rough night, V'ro seems more concerned with whatever's going on inside of that pretty head of F'yr's.

"If you're okay, I'm okay." It's not strictly true in the grander sense, but it's true in this moment. F'yr's voice seems earnest at any rate. He's looking down at V'ro to study his face as though there might be more he can read there. "I'm only upset that I hurt you." Ah, there's some truth. "I'm sorry I didn't… I don't know, make Glorioth put up with my having sex before this. Maybe I could've…" Done it differently? There's some frustration there, and there must, too, be some self-recrimination, but whatever it is, it's not about V'ro. "Do… do you want to go back to the bed? I can—" Deep breath, "I can put some numbweed on you. I'm sure it would help." He knows because he's been a long practitioner of therapeutic uses of numbweed for sparring bruises.

"There's no fault here, F'yr. That sex and normal sex aren't exactly comparable. Shards, it could've made him more—" Just more, evidently, "If he knew what to look forward to." V'ro's thumb brushes affectionately against the bronzerider's cheek, and he offers a flicker of a reassuring smile. Even if the idea that it might be worse next time probably isn't super reassuring. As for the rest, "You don't have to do that. But you can if it won't make you feel bad." It certainly would help, so V'ro won't outright refuse. "I'll go back to bed with you either way."

F'yr's Adam's apple bobs for the idea of Glorioth being more. It's a real fear since this is unlikely to be the only flight his bronze participates in now that he knows he can show off his virility and his lack of air of virgin around the other dragons. What if he is more in the next? There's worry evident in F'yr's brow, but that's really a problem for Future F'yr, right? For now, the touch of V'ro's thumb on his cheek brings the big blonde back to the present. He leans the scant inches to press his lips to the greenrider's brow. "Taking care of you would help me, I think. I can't go back and do it over, differently, but I can help now, if you'll let me." He's not really in doubt of that, though, not after what V'ro's said, so he'll embrace him, so carefully, before withdrawing enough to get what's needed and meet him on the bed. "So if normal sex isn't comperable… what's normal sex like?" is asked only after V'ro is situated and F'yr is carefully applying the numbweed to bruises that would fit the size of his hands uncomfortably well.

The idea of being taken care of seems to sit well with the greenrider. V'ro might not be so open with those 'love' words now that he's back to his more usual self, but it's still there in the way he looks at F'yr, at least. When he settles on the bed, whichever way the bronzerider thinks he should be, he has to consider his answer to that question before he muses, "I don't know. You're you. I've never felt that… that need quite like that before. Never gotten off that many times so close together." That's said with a brief grin and a glance toward the blond. "Normal sex is just you and another person. It can be great. It can be boring. But it's not… that. I'll probably be kind of disappointing for you." Whatever that means.

Can V'ro feel that puzzled look in the pregnant silence that extends after V'ro says that last thing? He can probably see it if he glances again. F'yr's looking like his attempt to wrap his herdbeast brain around what's been said is on the verge of causing him physical pain. Maybe that's because he's reaching with his clean hand to caress lightly down the back of V'ro's neck before he makes a simple reply, "I don't think you could ever be disappointing for me." A pause in which the squint of his eyes toward the ceiling is audible in his voice, "Unless you didn't want to have sex with me without them, which… I couldn't blame you for… after this…." He clears his throat and turns his attention back to reducing the soreness with the blessed relief of the numbweed compound that… well, it doesn't smell very good, but it sure does work.

The smell of the numbweed is probably helping the exhausted greenrider stay awake, at the very least, especially now that the soreness is becoming gradually less intense and he's becoming gradually more bonelessly relaxed. "Is this how you want to have sex without them?" wonders V'ro without judgment.

That's a question. Maybe it should be an easy question, but the silence doesn't lead to imagining that's the case here. Brows are furrowed. "I'm… not sure how I want to have sex?" Is that the right answer? Does poor, inexperienced F'yr even understand the question properly? Possibly not. "I want to have sex with you…" That's not a question in his voice, although he doesn't seem clear about whether or not this statement answers the greenrider's question.

"I want that, too," is an answer that comes all too easily to V'ro. Then, like it's somehow related, he's quick to add, "I'm sorry for the way I acted when…" Well, F'yr probably knows when. "I know I was a little intense." Emotionally. But, notably, he's not exactly giving an out for what he said. Many, many times. "Thank you for being there for me. It means a lot."

F'yr says what he can say honestly. "I want to be there for you, when you want me to be." This plainly does not include a return of complicated sentiments, at least not right now. What it does herald is a wiping of F'yr's hand now that he's dealt with all the worst body bruises. He leans down to kiss V'ro's face softly, his lips if the greenrider will turn his head enough. "I think there's enough time if we want a nap before we give up the room." Unless, someone else is going to barge in with an immediate need for it. F'yr's offering to stretch out with the greenrider, entwine sore limbs and snooze a while. Notably, somewhere… Glorioth is already gone. It might be a small blessing that he's a love 'em and leave 'em type. At least any lady with a momentary weakness for IRRESISTIBLE VIRILITY (or just an unfortunate flight pattern) won't have to put up with him for long… unless, of course, she wants to sing his praises, in which case, he'll be only to happy to stay long enough to collect his obvious due.

V'ro will do better than turn just his face, he'll start to shift onto his side to kiss the bronzerider back. Then, "That sounds nice." The greenrider will so contentedly curl up with the blond, and hopefully F'yr doesn't want to talk more because V'ro is giving into sleep despite the smell of numbweed. And fortunately for Glorioth, Koth is not sentimental enough to care where the brave impaler has gone so long as it means she can stretch out and rest in blissful silence. Win, win.

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