Prelude To A Flight

It’d been a long and tiresome day and all M’ti wanted was to go home, bathe, and sleep. It really wasn’t his home, now was it? Even exhausted his insecurities wouldn’t leave him alone, at least in his current state it was easier to brush them aside and make everything about the next step, the next turn of the corner, the next moment that brought him closer to the bed he’d been thinking about for the last several hours. Door opened and closed behind him, he’s not surprised to find it and the temporary weyr as a whole sans texture crazy greenling. Although it still inspires a muttering of “…probably with F’yr doing ‘more than kissing’ or whatever…” to himself but quickly finding that he didn’t have the strength even to be embittered. Why did Ru need more? Was M’ti that bad in bed? Did he lack something so profound that Ru'ien had to look elsewhere? Why hadn’t K’vir known who he was? Apparently family close enough to have dinner with but not discuss the Fortian greenrider. Why had Ru’s cousin said those things that just weren’t true? Bed. By the first egg, bed. Groaning, Matty flops over onto the plushness that was this nest of siren like delight, kicking off his boots and crawling a few inches in until his his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. BOOM, unconsciousness, and blissful release from all the things he didn’t know if he even wanted an answer to and yet couldn’t let go.

At this point of the game, it's anyone's guess what Ru'ien is up too. His restlessness knows no bounds, nor does the push that drives him to excess, fuelled further by his texture fixations. It's been made worse as sleep evades him by small increments each night. He's likely been pulled from his training, to avoid blundering mishaps and so he was left to find other venues to keep his hands (and mind) busy. As harassing checking in on the project has led to him being chased off (and not just by M'ti, but by the workers who recognize him now), he tried to focus on his own Craftwork (NOT at the forge! They won't let him near it, either.) — with mixed results. Little does M'ti know that Ru'ien has not sought anyone else and that his most recent encounter with F'yr was nothing more than the bronzerider being a teasing asshole with a book full of texture examples straight from Weavercraft! As for his family and specifically K'vir? That is very muddled and Ru'ien was rightly surprised to have heard that his cousin had come by — but it ended there, not pursued further. ONE DAY, the complexity of his less than normal family will be unravelled. He is late in returning this night and his arrival is mercilessly quiet even for him. Ru'ien had caught 'wind' of something that led him to one of those 'word of mouth' places with nightly entertainment. Not THAT KIND of entertainment but just a grittier atmosphere, where the music is of only certain tastes and for one running as hot as him? It was perfect. Dance it away, lost to the beat of drum and move and press of bodies, and maybe there was someone with him in a similar proddy state to partner him, but there was no cause for concern there! Seriously. Most would laugh if they knew (and K'vir would just sigggghhh miserably from his corner)! But that is not here and now; now, Ru'ien is back and he's TRYING not to wake M'ti. He succeeds, avoiding the bed, not out of shame but because he cannot settle. It's not to last, however. Come the witching hour of unfathomable time where it is not dead of night but no where near dawn, Ru'ien can be heard… from the floor? Yes, indeed, he is sprawled miserably half on the floor rug, half on the cool stone. "Matty…" he calls, pitifully but a touch woefully dramatic. "Matty, I can't… take this… much longer!" Groan. He buries his face briefly in the bent crook of his arm, but is promptly rolling onto his back in the next breath, legs bent at the knees while his hands scrub hard and firm over his face. "WHY WON'T SHE JUST GET IT DONE WITH!?" he exclaims, not quite yelling, but raising his voice loud enough for the disgruntled edge to carry through. SERIOUSLY, KIHA, HE WANTS TO SLEEP GDI.

Sleep had come swiftly and consumed M’ti entirely and so he knows not but the empty abyss of nothingness. It was sweet and warm, floating on an invisible cloud of comfort. The young greenrider is wholly unaware that he hadn’t bathed, hadn’t changed, hadn’t done any of the things that he’d so looked forward to except sleep. Just how long he is flat on his stomach and prone is anyone’s guess, only that he doesn’t stir even remotely as Ru’ien returns. Success on the greenling’s part? Indeed! Then, something tickles at the edge of Matty’s consciousness, drawing him back utterly against his will, and he feels himself being pulled away from the quiet and the dark to the gloom of the temporary weyr; ashen lashes parting. That he had one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, his knuckles hovering but a sacred inch above cold stone, is first to be noted. His body ached from having pushed himself far beyond his limits the last several days, a stiff and uncomfortable reminder that he should have taken better care of himself in the time between shifts, those doubles ill advised. This all comes into stark relief within seconds of waking, in the next the sound from the floor, and with a groan he begins to pull his arm back to plant his palm to the bed frame and struggling, he props himself up just enough to be able to make out the form of his auburn haired lover on the floor, “Why’re you on the floor?” he asks in a tone laden with the fatigue his unknown hours of sleep hadn’t managed to stave off, muscles protesting movement and with a twinge the greenrider’s arm buckles. Flop. Hand curled under his chin, somehow he squiggles himself over enough that he can plainly see Ru’ien without having to utilize any one of the numerous body parts that hated him presently. “I know, love…” he breathes out, still not awake enough to realize his slip, his words nearly swallowed by a very big yawn. Followed by several blinks to rid himself of the moisture that such a thing had wrought, M’ti ends up watching Ru’ien roll around on the floor and basically lament his lot in life. His eyes widen a touch, brows lifting, and briefly he just stares throughout that quite vocal inquiry. Awww, poor baby. Regardless, that his heart went out to the overheated man, a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth— because hey, it was kind of adorable somehow— expression schooled as soon as he’d detected the change. Faranth, why did he find this so terribly endearing instead of irritating? He’d been sleeping, after all, and now? “…from the looks and sounds of it, it won’t be long now.” Stretching out his limbs ever so slowly so that he wouldn’t instantly regret it, M’ti curls up where he is and tilts his face into the smooth finish of the bed’s support below, “Come to bed…” is released with another yawn. Matty might be able to sympathize, but was also tired and had another long day ahead of him tomorrow. Unfortunately, he’d no real idea of just how long it’d actually turn out to be.

“It’s too hot,” Ru’ien’s complaint is lost… to the rug, as he’s now face down again and muffling a string of colourful oaths. He will miss much of M’ti’s movements or even the expressions in the witching-hour light of their current accommodations. All those yawns? Also missed, in the wake of his predicament. “I’m too hot!” he exclaims again, only to burst into a sleep-deprived titter of stifled laughter. “… heh heheheh heh… get it?” No, it makes no sense but to HIS mind, it’s so funny. Suddenly, he is stretching out his limbs and rolling again on to his back in order to pull this stunt off. There’s another long, drawn out, groan, and the palm of his hands scrub languorously over the rough texture of the woven fibres of the rug under him — then to the stone, then… “Mhm… did you change the sheets?” Do you feel that tugging, M’ti? Ru’ien’s found the edge of the top cover and is increasingly pulling a little more and more as his fingers curl into the fabric. Sleep, he NEEDS sleep, but so far it escapes him and he just presses onwards. Sorry, M’ti, but he’s not going to be lulled or lured so easily! Because Ru’ien’s choking back another curse, leaning heavily into the side of the bed and indulging in some multiple texture overload as different points of his body rest against multiple surfaces. Ahh, some relief, for now or just TOO MUCH for his exhausted mind to process that it stalls long enough for him to gain a foothold. “Matty…” he sighs again, so tired, so frazzled. “… damn, do I ever HOPE you’re right.” About Kihatsuth’s time approaching. “I want it done.” he confesses in a rough, hoarse whisper. Did he catch that slip up from M’ti? Maybe. Maybe that is what had him move towards the bed after all, even under the pretense that he’s only interested in the sheets. If he was in a better frame of mind and less distracted, he would’ve called him out on it — or, the sneaky devil that he is, he’s waiting to spring it on him. When he’s not… so focused on WHY THE SHEETS FEEL SO GD GOOD.

All M’ti hears is ‘mff-mahff-maffa’ really, the first time, but rather than voice a need for clarification he tucks his face in against the crook of his arm. It’s not funny. It’s not. Then, why were his shoulders bouncing like that and why was he so thoroughly amused? Seriously, Ru’ien was having a rough go of it for sure, but he can’t hold onto his laughter after the auburn haired lad reiterates and bursts out with some of his own, “Yes, yes…” he chortles, “I get it.” He’s also not disagreeing with him either, though given their mutual attraction to one another there wouldn’t be much point now would there? Mhmm, yes, and as if to emphasize this fact over the other, his amusement fades as Ru’ien stretches and rolls. The greenrider decides in an instant that there is something truly wrong with him. That his lover could be that obviously uncomfortable and yet the sound of his voice as he groaned along with the visual he was presenting as he rubbed against all the textures provided by the floor was disturbingly arousing. If there was a hell for the Pernese after they left this life, Matty was totally going there. Hazel eyes were adhered to what he could make of Ru through the darkness and so there is that forewarning before there’s tugging, “Yes, Ru. This morning like you asked.” Demanded really, but he wasn't going to hold that against him. Those sheets were super soft now, feeling like butter against the skin, and would prove to be exceptionally cool to the touch. No more itchy scratchy hotness! Propping himself back, brows lift, more and more of the cover is pulled out from beneath him, nearly enough to liberate M’ti himself from the bed as he feels himself sliding that direction, “Hey!” he says quietly, reaching out to tug that section back before he decides against it, ultimately sighing. “You’re going to make me come down there, aren’t you?” It’s fine. It’s all good. Scooting around, M’ti gets up behind Ru’ien and slides his hands down the front of his person, then proceeds to help the man off with whatever it was he had on. Awkward, time consuming, and with plenty of complaints being voice directly into his ear before he finally slides down to the floor himself and finishes the job. Everything, if anything, is tossed to the side and in so doing does the same for himself. It might seem devious in intention, that Matty was about to take advantage of the poor exhausted fellow, but in actuality he was looking to decrease the textural overload down to one or two. Coverlet tossed aside, “I know, I know…” he breathes out in a soothing tone, hooking his arms beneath his and somehow through considerable struggle, begins to hoist Ru’ien up in the hopes of relocating him to the bed. “…but…for…now…” Six foot three of slender muscle is still heavy, y’know! “…let’s…get…you….” Up? Off the floor? Down to fewer distracting sensations in the hope sleep would come? Yeah, probably. There is exactly zero thought given to what he’d said that could have been just as much a lure as it might have been used against him in different circumstances. Neither that he was basically pressed in and against Ru, other than, “Faranth, your skin is on fire…” Grunting, pulling, how successful the greenrider is in his endeavor depended wholly on the already chaotic nature of the man he was attempting to aid— currently made all the more so by all that Proddy.

Ru’ien isn’t so much of a bastard as to go completely dead weight on M’ti when he comes to collect him. Nor is he feeling the mood to play the ‘gravity is increasing’ game again on him and subsequently send them both into a pile onto the floor. He’ll succeed, eventually, but not until their first ritual is done. He doesn’t protest in being divested of the majority of his clothing — an eccentric outfit, but he’d gone to somewhere particular that night. The coolness to his exposed skin brings a delighted shiver and a sigh of relief; for Matty’s observations are spot on. “I told you!” he mutters, about the overheated feel of his body. Not of a true fever, but feverish-like all the same. Up he goes, only marginally boneless and making short work of sinking into the sheets… and then promptly bunching the majority of them up under his restless movements. It takes a good several minutes for him to get comfortable, with a pillow tucked under his head and upper torso and the blankets mostly bunched against his one side. He’s laying half on his stomach, half on his hip, curled and, for the moment, content. Sleep does not come, he is very much wide awake still but not as achingly in need of some form of stimulation. Neither does he seem just as inclined to pounce upon M’ti — but the night, what’s left of it, may yet hold promise. For now, he is too exhausted, nerves frazzled and heightened but he has sought the greenrider’s company all the same. “Do you always use pet names?” he asks, bemused while breaking the hush of silenced conversation between them.

This time. Don't think for a second that M’ti has forgotten being gradually flattened to the ground beneath Ru’ien’s increasing weight, in front of the workers no less. No, but for now most things were water under the bridge until such a time as Kihatsuth takes to the skies and the greenling returns to himself. Perhaps, not even then, but who knows what the future held. M’ti certainly didn’t, and that was almost part of the problem. For now though, there is the stripping of the Ru, not be confused with the taming of the shrew of course. If there was anything that Matty had learned, it was that he shouldn’t overthink (not that this has stopped him at all) the things that Ru’ien does, but he doubles his efforts in this regard when it comes to where he might guess that he’d been till he’d returned. That outfit takes some doing, but it’s off in its many pieces, left to the floor. “Yes, yes…” he mutters distractedly of what he’d been told, grunting and hauling, and eventually getting the greenling where he needed to be. Oh, that shiver was noted, and sure enough M’ti bites his lip hard enough to bring about a wince. No. No. BAD! Once Ru’ien was up, Matty was down, flopping over onto his side facing the man across from him, wrapping himself around his pillow to watch all that squiggling and squirming. That wasn’t helping, things. No it was not. There is no small measure of relief once Ru’s settled in some semblance of comfort. Seriously, this man was going to be the death of him. Funnily enough, just as the greenrider was about to start drifting off, Ru’s voice breaks the silence,“What?” Confused, it only takes a couple of seconds before that condition changes. FWOSH. Well, that hadn’t taken much, now had it? Then again, it rarely did. “N-no…” he mutters, giving that pillow a rather fierce hug as hazel eyes slide off somewhere else. Oh yay! Awkwardness! He was wondering if he was going to manage to avoid it for once, and it seems not. Dropping his volume into a mutter, their proximity and the quiet of the weyr allows it to carry anyway, “…I’ve never said anything like that to anyone before.” He could lie and say it was a mistake, but they’d both know in an instant it wasn’t true, so he doesn’t even try.

Don’t even bother trying to hide, Matty! Ru’ien heard it and now that reaction is definitely confirming everything. Even in the semi-gloom of this temporary weyr, his eyes narrow as he glimpses some of that change overtaking the younger greenrider — or he can envision enough! It brings a deep, rolling and husky laugh from him, one probably felt more then heard as it rumbles through his frame. “Well, it’s endearing…” Which means he’s saying Matty is adorable and cute. Will there be a patronizing pat to the head to go with it? Not quite, though he does reach out to brush his fingers over his cheek and to tuck back a few errant locks if they’ve tumbled forwards. “And I don’t mind it.” Just expect to be teased mercilessly about it while it’s still ‘new’ and unfamiliar between them. Ru’ien appears to be comfortable for now, though he continues to move by the smallest of fractions. A shift here, a twitch there — forever restless and sleep elusive. Even if he closes his eyes, they do not remain that way for long, despite what the lingering pauses of silence may lead to believe otherwise. “I dunno if anyone’s ever called me anything like it,” he admits, dragging the conversation back. “Usually the nicknames I receive aren’t even close to endearing or… well, pleasant at all, I guess.” Not that it ever seemed to trouble him and doesn’t appear to be now. “Very few exceptions.” Because truth be told, he does enjoy the similarities to his name and a certain word. How fitting!

Hide? Of course M’ti is going to try! All turning his face in towards the pillow in what might look like— or would, was there better lighting presently— the poor kid was trying to snuff himself out once Ru’ien starts laughing at him. This was considerably more about being embarrassed than anything else, thankfully, as in the past such a reaction to something he’d said or done had a much more profound (admittedly negative) impact than it does now. Someone’s finally learning not to take everything as a pointed finger at some unredeemable character flaw or personal failing. Hooray for thicker skin! Face flushing in color deeper, cheeks blazing hot, M’ti makes a soft disgruntled sound as he curls tighter around his pillow— a thing which may very well emphasize what Ru’ien is implying by labelling his freudian slip as he does. M’ti could have anticipated one of those hair ruffles that had always felt distancing, oddly big brotherly even, but when it’s the caress of fingertip across his cheek and the scoop of hair back behind his ear? Well, even the simplicity of that tender gesture brings a sudden clenching to his chest. It takes all of his willpower not to desperately adhere to it like someone who wanders blindly through the dark in the hope of a single scrap of sunlight. How pathetic is that? Never in his life was Matty more thankful for low lighting and basic shapes, he could only imagine the expression on his face, tilting it into Ru’s touch in an attempt to garner a second or two more attention. Of all the textures, had his skin not rated? Truth be told, that’s actually what had given him the idea to hunt down the softest, butteriest sheets he could get his hands on, so there was that? M’ti hadn’t of course made any sort of connection between the calming effect of the sheet and himself, if there even was one to start. “Okay,” he says softly, which is the best he can do at the moment, working hard on pulling himself together. Faranth, really? Why did it feel like he’d just been handed one of the moons? The silence that follows is a blessing all the same, not needing the twitches or shifts on the bed opposite to remind him of Ru’ien’s presence, but thankful for them all the same. Sleep was far from possible at this point, lost in his thoughts, startling ever so slightly when Ru’s voice cuts through the quiet again, and what’s said brings about a frown that can’t exactly be clearly made out through the gloom, “That’s unfair…” he replies, extending his chin so that he isn’t muffled, “…but that’s also on them.” This comes from a place of personal experience, considering he’d called the man some unkind things himself, redemption found not in apology but that he kept coming around instead of writing Ru’ien off. “Sometimes people try to use words to make others feel small, or to try and fit the things they don’t understand into the sort of shapes they do.” Was that a soft little growl just then? Ayup, it sure is! “What those people lack, though, isn’t your fault.” Having gotten himself surprisingly worked up, “I think you’re beautiful, so…” And this is where he’s curling up and trying to off himself again by pressing his face into his pillow as his ears turn brilliant red, “…to hell with those ugly people…” comes considerably less clear, but understandable nonetheless. “…you don’t need ‘em.”

“Is it?” Unfair, that is and Ru’ien’s broad smirk may not be wholly visible but certainly carried in that tone of his. A bemused huff, almost a sigh and the rustling sound as he shifts his arm over the well-appreciated sheets. Where did M’ti FIND these? Pardon him while he just indulges, half focused on their conversation despite the serious turn. “Mhm,” he agrees, partially dismissive, to the rest. Until the compliment is given and the less clear, but understandable second half. Blinking in the half-gloom, Ru’ien is silent a heartbeat or two and then suddenly bursts out laughing. He laughs for a long while, longer maybe than he SHOULD be he’s exhausted and punch drunk from it. Eventually he begins to sober himself to snickers and muffled chuckles, ending stretched on his back and his hands scrubbing exhaustedly over his face. His fingers drag into his hair several times and then… then the bed shifts, along with his weight, and he’s practically on top of M’ti but not quite crushing him beneath him. Just suddenly not and then IN, right in, his personal space. Fingers prod firmly at his shoulders, in a playful shove then ends with his hand smoothing over skin or fabric alike. Ooooh… “I’m a big boy, Matty.” he muses, tip-tapping his fingertips in some idle tempo-beat across M’ti’s back. “Don’t let it get you all bent out of shape.” Meaning he could care less what they think, he was merely making a truthful observation. “Though…” he muses further, drawling a little. “Are you getting all hackles up on my defence?” Awwwww~

Those sheets? Them right there? S E C R E T. As is how much Matty had to barter for them, though he’d done so without batting an eye. Unseen in the dark, the greenrider’s lashes lower, Ru’s tone aside, “It is,” he confirms with a note of finality that leaves little room for argument. Apparently, there’s no changing his mind on it. What M’ti expected in response, is pretty much what happens, and so the impact is considerably less than it would have been had he been caught off guard. This doesn’t mean, however, that it doesn’t sting a little to have what he’d meant so wholeheartedly brushed off so easily or that it was amusing enough to occupy a good chunk of time with practically riotous laughter. It isn’t that he suffers it so much that he endures, keeping his silent feelings to himself in the dark as he waits for the ringing sound to die down in his ears, and he just might have been contemplating departure from the bed to elsewhere when suddenly there is movement and Ru. There’s barely enough time to react mentally, never mind physically, his nostrils quickly filling with Ru’s scent slightly mixed with…a female’s? Before he can make some incorrect leap in logic there, his shoulder’s being poked, “Ow! Ru!…ow…ow…” he complains rather softly while trying to block further assault by sticking his palm between the offending digit and himself, muscles still a bit sore from the day’s activities, just to end up shivering and sighing beneath the rough skinned sensation of the man’s caress down the length of his body. Faranth damn it! “Yeah, I noticed…” comes in a mutter afterwards, though what he means by that isn’t as readily shared, reaching over to brush the pads of a few cool and lightly scarred fingertips across Ru’s lips, “Can’t exactly help it.” Seriously, M’ti had gotten a bit prickly (again) in Ru’ien’s defence, though he most definitely does not elaborate on the fact this was hardly the first time nor would it be the last. So, when it comes to down to truthful omissions? “Yeah, maybe…” is exhaled breathily, his fingers traipsing over the expanse of skin that covers the greenling’s neck with undeniable affection, but again he won’t say the words his touch so clearly transcribes.

M’ti should know better than to try and leave when Ru’ien is in one of his MOODS… and not even necessarily proddy! It would only end with a chase. Regretfully, staying will also guarantee much shenanigans, whether they’re truly appreciated or not! Those soft complaints aren’t enough to get him to stop, though the move to block him finally has him withdrawing. “No, I guess you can’t,” Help it, that is. Ru’ien’s grinning in the dark again, head and cheek propped up against one curled fist, with his elbow pressed firmly into the mattress. “Which is adorable but… really, Matty…” His name ends in a bit of a sigh, not from disappointment but more from distraction when those fingers brush against his neck. He inhales deep, willing himself to some self control and not indulge in some fixation over texture and wins out again… barely. “Don’t work yourself up so much on my part. You’ll burn yourself out. Let ‘em think what they think of me — it’s part of the fun and I don’t care.” Zero fucks, Matty. He has them! “It weeds people out pretty damn fast, anyhow.” Those who are worth his time will stick around and eventually trust will build. Ru’ien’s stuck by this for Turns and it’s just another part of him that won’t readily change overnight! Feeling that that is edging too close to serious topics, he chuckles and, with a low exhale, drags his frame over the sheets and effectively half-pins M’ti against him. Just like that! Did the young greenrider want cuddles? HE’S GETTING CUDDLED, GDI. “I’ve kept you up long enough.” Conversation DONE. “Sleep, Matty. I’ll try to too.” With zero promise behind that but Ru’ien’s already settling in. Will it last? Probably not. By the time dawn arrives, the greenrider will have made a full rotation of the bed, probably dragged the sheets off of it (or mostly) in search of comfort on the cooler floor and it’s a wonder there isn’t a rut dug in somewhere with his endless pacing. He never sleeps, though he does his best effort not to rouse M’ti… too often.

The problem with M’ti, one of them anyway, is that he thinks too much and on multi-tiered levels. His head was incredibly full of this, of that, and everything in between. Logic, as well at times, was not his strongest suit though had he attempted his escape he would have quickly been reminded of what he already knew deep down. There was just no escaping Ru’ien. Given a second, he might even have caught onto the irony of that phrasing too. When the poking stops, M’ti drops his hand away from protective shield duty, returning to to drape over the pillow he still seemed intent on keeping between himself and texture sensitive greenling. At least until he can’t seem to stop himself from touching him anyway. While there might not be a verbal apology, the dark did him justice by hiding it from Matty’s expression, but not the grin he could hear in Ru’s voice. He could just make out his position beside him on the bed, some features, but he’d seen that look plenty of times to picture it in perfect clarity, “I wouldn’t go that far,” he mutters, hardly about to place himself anywhere near the category of ‘adorable’, distracting himself with the exploration of Ru’s skin but restraining himself from replacing fingertips with lips. This is only because of what the auburn haired man says next, springing forth that unspoken apology, though not in a way that might have been anticipated, “I’m sorry Ru, but I’m not going to just ignore someone talking badly about you. It upsets me, especially when it’s not true. I won’t try to start trouble, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit there and put up with it.” This was the Matty of today, who knows how that might change in the future, for better or for worse. He may not say anything about weeding, but there was already at least one person on his shit list, and he might have said more on the topic but very abruptly for some reason he couldn’t think of anything else more to say. It might have something to do with Ru’ien all up in his business, having liberated his precious pillow and relocated it, leaving nothing between them but skin and a very small thin layer of fabric. “Faranth!” he exhales, because while the greenling wasn’t feverish, his skin was still running hot, and all too soon M’ti is kicking off anything that might retain even a little of that heat. Forcibly cuddled (…help…oh help…), the young greenrider sighs heavily, soon wrapping his arms around his beloved Ru’ien for as long as he can, “Okay…” he breathes out, and he does attempt to do just that. As it turns out, sleep isn't in the cards with all the goings on and what not, at least not until Ru’ien departs the weyr entirely much later. Be assured though, he’d have spent half the time doing what he can to make the poor man as comfortable as possible.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License