DISCLAIMER: Adult language and topics, nudity, glossed past sex. Angst. Etc.

Temple of All Dooms - Xanadu Weyr
F'yr and Glorioth's homestead in the forest. There's a tower.

As soon as F'yr spotted V'ro, he headed his way, like just his presence has brought the blond into range for the magnetism to draw them closer. He exited the sands and met him in the arena's foyer, only to nod his head toward the outside in invitation and walk on. If his expression is unreadable, it's because there's so much conflict there it's hard to really get a grasp on which emotion is winning out - hope? Concern? Fear? This could mean anything, right? The training grounds this evening have a few older weyrlings at work and so F'yr leads V'ro on, pulling them around to some little natural curve in the wall of the arena or adjoining Dragonhealer Annex, a little spot of semi-privacy. There's his lower lip caught between his teeth, blue eyes far too full of soulful longing to be good for anyone's heart rate, and without a word he lifts his hand, palm up just a little toward V'ro in invitation. If accepted, he's going to be jerked into the tightest, most desperate embrace possibly of his life to date. If not, the hand can fall away. Either way he gets an emotion-laden, "V'ro." It's half greeting, half expression of something sacred. He's totally playing fair.

V'ro takes the bronzerider's hand and sinks into that embrace. He might even squeak if F'yr squeezes a little too hard, but that almost certainly doesn't mean he wants it to stop, because he'll just cling a little tighter if F'yr tries to withdraw. "I miss you," he says, probably despite any better judgement he might have had before showing up where F'yr would find him. "I miss this." There's longing in his voice, and in those pretty green eyes when he tilts his head up to look at F'yr, then he's leaning up with every intention of kissing the bronzerider.

Yeeeahhhh…. So one might begin to get the feeling that F'yr missed V'ro a little given the way that as soon as V'ro's lips make contact, the bronzerider is using his body and that embrace they're already locked in to push V'ro up against the wall, breath already coming faster, and if the way his lips, his teeth, his tongue all involve themselves in articulating clearly not just want, but adoration and longing, then someone isn't paying attention. By the time the kiss breaks, F'yr's body is pressed into V'ro's, one arm pressed to the rock above him while the hand of the other has been traveling up his side. "I love you." It's raw, low, almost agonized. Definitely playing fair. (Except, F'yr doesn't play games, so this is all real. Oh well.) "I can't not having you in my life, but I don't know how to be what you need." This, shockingly, continues to be the essential problem, and has traditionally been the case, there goes big dumb F'yr, pulling a big dumb by bringing it up right now when they could have just absconded somewhere. BUT nooooOOOOoooooOOOOoooo, Mr. Big Feelz F'yr doesn't work that way.

By the time the kiss breaks, V'ro is ready for other things to start happening. F'yr bringing up this idea that their love is doomed no matter what, or at least that's how V'ro translates it, is not what he wants to hear. The greenrider makes a frustrated sound, but a hand is already working on rubbing F'yr through his pants. "I need you right now, baby. I don't want to think about all that. I just want you." There's a quiet desperation in his voice, like he might break down if he has to think about everything else when faced with the object of his obsession.

Surely F'yr's soft sound that is quite close to a little whimper when V'ro's hand lands on his cock isn't going to really help anything. His eyes go fleetingly in the direction they came and then back to V'ro's face. "Come home with me." It's a trap bait, for sure, but possibly on the hook that leads to what V'ro is looking for …. …. surely, F'yr won't bring up any emotional nonsense while sharing the homestead that's remained a mystery since he got it with the man he loves. Nah, that's probably not a concern. "Please, Khav. I'll give you whatever you want." And not unwillingly says the fiercely claiming kiss that too briefly assaults the greenrider's mouth with a ferocious hunger for V'ro, including just what he wants from F'yr. (More or less.)

"Glori's settling down for sleep, so I've got time." He won't be needed on the sands to protect candidates or unwitting observers (he just doesn't want to have to re-set the 'x-many days without Glorioth incidents' sign to zero). Then his hands are gliding down V'ro's arms and to his wrists, his hands to pull him in that direction. It is, however, a bit of a walk, even taken at a fast clip, into the forest and then down a private path that just winds and goes on and on (much too long for people still wearing pants, probably).

With another kiss like that, V'ro doesn't even really have a choice, honestly. He's definitely not thinking with his big head right now, but it's kind of debatable how often he does that, anyway. So he agrees to be led into this not-trap without any of the reservations a smarter man might possess. At least until this walk is taking too sharding long and he's getting kind of handsy again. Can't they just fuck now and then maybe again once they get to F'yr's mysterious homestead?

It would be impossible for F'yr on a good day to resist V'ro getting handsy. With as much time as has passed between them, there's no contest. The bronzerider is moaning into V'ro's mouth as he lays on him another crushing kiss that wipes away a lot of the higher thought on both their parts, his pelvis grinding into V'ro's with obvious, increasing need. "Fuck, come on, baby. My bed will be so much better. Or my kitchen counter. Or my couch." Or fuck, anywhere but the middle of the woods. It definitely doesn't help F'yr's resolve that they used to NEARLY fuck in the woods during weyrlinghood, but at least then they brought a blanket. So with a rough jerk, he's pulling V'ro along with a frustrated growl, doubling his pace, but not quite running because running isn't a good life choice right now.

V'ro is not going to be allowed time to gawk at the tower that is part of F'yr's homestead, nor the spacious clearing with the wide awning for the bronze, because F'yr is beelining for the deck to get in through the nearest door (the one at the base of the tower), "Oh, fuck. Hang on." F'yr is pulling away from V'ro only to spin right back to him and push himself into a hard press against his long-lost-lover. "Go up the stairs, and then up again. Top room in the tower. Strip. I'll be right there." And he opens the door to literally push V'ro through while he ducks out to head for the deck around the front and deal with swapping the warning light to STAY AWAY, KIDDOS, because that would be a beyond awkward interruption to have the neighbor kids wander by.

Fortunately gawking isn't super high on V'ro's list of priorities right now, at least at anything that isn't F'yr, so he's easy enough to shove inside. He'll find his way up the stairs, then up again, only complicated by the fact that he's in unfamiliar territory, and he's trying his damnedest to strip on the way up. If he weren't so focused on the anticipation of the bronzerider joining him, he might even do a better job at trying to get some sort of look around. As it is, there are other things on his mind.

It's over too soon, of course, but F'yr missed V'ro, as murmured words confirm along with renewal of enduring feelings of a deeper nature. Sure, the greenrider's response to him might be slightly ephemeral, but he's not about to complain right now because he takes them as they are, and maybe he hears them a little differently than they were given because he wants them— needs them— to be real, in a real way. He doesn't try to speak again. Maybe he thinks whatever he might say would be the wrong words. Maybe he's afraid to push V'ro away again, with his very F'yr-ness, but his hands travel over the greenrider lovingly, as though he can't get enough of just touching him, because he can't. Given long enough, this could naturally lead into a round two, since it doesn't seem likely that F'yr is going to try to broach hard things, but before it gets there, if V'ro doesn't speak first— he'll ask, "Hungry? I made bread this morning." (It's more cheating, but listen, maybe he needs every unfair bonus point he can accrue?)

V'ro isn't going to get carried away with talking if F'yr doesn't seem inclined to talk. He's quite content to keep things to touching, maybe some kissing. These things are easy, maybe entirely too easy for V'ro to get caught up in. But when F'yr asks about bread, the greenrider will reluctantly disengage enough for the bronzerider to move because he says, "Sure, I guess. Since when do you make your own bread?"

"Since I got my own kitchen. And, you know, before, when I was a farmer." Okay, really, more relevantly: when he was the youngest son and had a lot of chores, but he doesn't quite say that. He does fill in, "I used to help with it in the kitchen with my mum and Aunts." He'll even lead the way to slowly shifting them to sitting and then nudging V'ro toward the edge of the bed, maybe stopping more than once to nibble on his neck, his shoulder. "You make good trades," he had cause to know, and there's a shrug, "I make bread." The skills of a spent youth? "C'mon," he invites, shifting to stand and offer his hands back down to the greenrider with every intention of tugging him up into an embrace for some long moments before he makes any move to go in the direction of bread (out the door, down the spiral stair, down the hall, down the straight stair to the ground floor in the non tower portion of the homestead where living room splits space with a really nice kitchen with an enormous island).

"Well, then," says V'ro as he lets himself be nudged toward the edge of the bed with whatever nibbling it may or may not involve before he's being pulled up into the bronzerider's embrace. "I look forward to partaking in the bounty of your labor." Just like he does with all those muscles. Okay, maybe not just like, but same idea. He generally enjoys the products of F'yr's labor! And since he's not quite so single-minded on the way down to the kitchen, V'ro will let his attention wander curiously to all the sights there are to see until they get there.

One of the sights ends up being the washroom (no plumbing, yet, alas), a brief stop for a quick clean up, but there's no hesitation after that in getting to the kitchen. F'yr is quick about collecting a small tray of provender and setting it out onto the counter for them - cheese, nuts, dried fruit and, of course, the bread. He even gets them some alcohol and water. The bottle is left on the table but judging by the fact that the mugs F'yr fetches are full of water and there's no other glass, he expects them to finish hydrating before dehydrating drinking. Really, with F'yr, the silence could go on a while. He slices a couple of pieces of bread from the loaf while he sits on one of the stools at the counter, but after a moment he's clearing his throat, and darting blue eyes that speak much too muchof emotional things not said to ask, "How've you been?" I missed you. I love you. Don't vanish again. Damn F'yr and his soulful eyes.

Contrary to popular belief, V'ro is capable of keeping his mouth shut for periods of time. It's just hit or miss when these things happen. But he's not especially chatty right now while he has food to focus on and F'yr to watch as he sits and enjoys the spread. "Okay, I guess," is his answer, maybe not entirely convincing but probably not inviting too much poking at, either. "We don't have to talk about anything. I can just be here." Until he's not. "It doesn't have to be a whole Thing." He's not looking at F'yr anymore when he says this, granted.

Listen. F'yr is a MAN. That means he does not let his lip wobble and eyes get all full of unshed tears at the suggestion that this does not have to be a whole Thing. The audible intake of breath, however, is permitted because it can't be helped. It's a short sucking sound not followed by any release, and the chewing ceases. After a moment, it picks up, possibly harder than it was a moment ago, and he swallows his mouthful. He's trying to be casual as he sets his bread aside and brushes his hands together before he's adjusting his position on the stool to be faced toward the greenrider. He actually opens and closes his mouth more than once before he actually manages to make satisfactory words come out, "What does that mean?" Careful, the lip wobble and full-of-tears look might yet come~

V'ro is not so oblivious that he can't read the tension his words cause, and he has the grace/insecurity to look a little guilty about it. "I just— I don't know, F'yr. We can go back to the way it was before my dumb ass told you I loved you and we just hung out and fucked sometimes, and it was easy." Until V'ro ruined it by caring an awful lot out loud. "What do you actually want to happen here?"

F'yr's lips press together very slightly, that thinking it through look, but it's no good, it's too brief, he's not filtering it properly and that might be because this is the kind of thing that feels like a fist around his heart, caging the racing pulse and threatening to tighten with each subsequent beat until it can't even flutter. "I love you, Khav." This may be the opposite direction than V'ro intended, but at least the tone is kept simple. "I've felt things for you since the day in the forest when I almost punched you. There's no going back, for me, to a time when I didn't feel for you. And I wouldn't want to." The swallow is visible.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I can't just turn it off." His expression can't help but soften, can't help but show some of the emotions that are just so strong under that surface of trying not to make it harder, "You're the first person I ever wanted to kiss. And I wanted that because I was feeling things about you. Things that were never easy, not for me." They never talked about what Stefyr was or wasn't feeling then, though, so maybe V'ro has never known. "I don't want easy, Khav. I just want you." Except… sigh …not only him, of course.

The greenrider probably doesn't mean to sigh the way he does, or maybe just not the way it comes off. "It's not like I just turn off my feelings. They're still fucking there, F'yr." V'ro isn't looking at him now, though, picking up his water to finish it so he can pour himself alcohol instead. "You don't just want me," he points out, his voice deliberately flat to keep the emotions at bay. "Which is my point. I fuck whoever I want. You fuck whoever you want. We fuck when— whenever we aren't fucking someone else, I guess." He glances at the bronzerider now. Is he following? V'ro is willing to live in denial for him, that ought to be worth something.

Likewise, F'yr probably does not mean to, for just one moment, spell out W. T. F. on his face, but there it is, for that split second. It's cleared to one of simpler bafflement by the time he asks in a tone that reflects that expression (plus a little touch of exasperation), "How is that any different than what we were doing before?" No, he really doesn't get it. Go slower, use smaller words, he's a big dumb bronzerider, V'ro.

A flicker of way more emotion than he wants to acknowledge crosses V'ro's face, his own exasperation sharpening his voice. "Fine. What do you suggest we do, then? You say you love me, but I can't figure out what that even fucking means to you."

F'yr does not proceed to pull out his hair, but he does reach up and shove a hand through the short lengths before his hand barely manages not to slap the counter top as it comes back down. He leans in, into V'ro's space, his voice half a growl when he replies, "I suggest you talk with me." Not that hooking a hand behind the greenrider's neck and initiating a kiss that is fuelled by the wealth of deeper feelings as much as the frustration that V'ro has a special gift for bringing out in F'yr is going to help much with talking. There's a groan from F'yr when it breaks, the man leaning far off his seat to press his forehead to V'ro's. "You don't even have to ask. I'll tell you if you'll just stay long enough to listen to the answer."

He's not going to keep the bronzerider from kissing him, obviously. It'd probably help F'yr out if his frustration wasn't so hot, but V'ro seems to know better than to tell him that right now. Or maybe he's just too distracted by the idea that F'yr thinks the greenrider hasn't already sorted everything out. Which he has! Incorrectly or not. "You love me. You love other people. We're all very special to you. Which makes none of us very special in particular." He lifts his brows as if to question how close he is.

"Which makes you all very special differently." F'yr corrects. Then, well, there's all this food right in front of them and it would be a shame not to draw a visual example. "I love bread." He puts a slice in front of V'ro. "I love cheese." A slice of that too. "Loving bread doesn't make me love cheese less or the other way around." He doesn't make them a sandwich though. "There are also lots of people I don't love. Don't even like." Gasp!

V'ro will, at least, resist rolling his eyes at everyone being differently special. What he won't resist is pointing out, "Cheese and bread don't have feelings of their own." And right now he's going to choose the alcohol over either of them. Once he's had a drink, he asks, "What do you think when you think about us? How does it work?" He's going to assume something works in the way F'yr thinks about them.

"No," F'yr concedes the point. Cheese and bread don't have feelings of their own. Thankfully. The silence that follows is not exactly encouraging, but the blond is not reaching for his drink. "I don't know, V'ro." So, poor assumption, then. "I'm… feeling my way along with— all of this," except his gesture is all of himself. It's also them, probably, but that's not what the hand indicates here. "It works for me to love you, deeply, meaningfully, uniquely and for us to have whatever it is we have with other people, too. Because someone else loving you, someone else making you happy…" His brows draw down a little, "That just makes you more happy, and I want you to be happy." Can one blame him for looking a little confused when blue eyes find green again?

There's a moment, just a moment, where V'ro looks viscerally defeated. But then it's gone with a swallow and he says, "I'm fine. Okay?" That's not really a question. He's telling F'yr he's fine, and never mind that the greenrider is a pretty good liar. "So it's you and I. And whatever the fuck else we do with ourselves when it's not us." He says it like this is what he'd already suggested only moments ago, and he sees no real difference between the concepts. But at least he'll pick at some of that bread and cheese again.

"Yeah, you're fine." It might seem at face value that F'yr is accepting the lie as truth. Except, then the temper that rarely is seen is sparked. "I'm fine. This is just fine!" Except one doesn't tend to shout like that when it's actually fine. But he's not throwing anything. He's just getting up with a shove to the stool he was sitting on and stalking away from the kitchenette side of the ground floor into the area with the comfortable seating where the hearth is on the pretext of feeding it more wood; he must have started it during his delay in following V'ro up to the bedroom. To be fair, it is the middle of winter in the southern hemisphere, so the fire is needed, but he hardly needs to do it now. He's not at it long before he's turning to face the greenrider (wherever he is), to demand, "Why can't we ever just talk? I hate that everything I do is wrong for you." He probably means outside of the bed. "What can I do differently, Khav?" There's a kind of desperation in these questions that come with enough volume to carry clearly across whatever space exists between them.

V'ro doesn't get up immediately to chase after the frustrated bronzerider, though he swivels to watch him stalk off toward the hearth. And he's at least making his way in that direction when F'yr turns back toward the greenrider. "What else is there to talk about? We're like pieces of different puzzles that we're trying to make fit together. I love you, F'yr. And I can deal with not being enough for you if I can at least have you sometimes. What else could you possibly want from me!" He's not quite yelling, but his voice is intense when it's not wavering, those green eyes threatening to spill tears.

Then F'yr can meet him half way because he's stalking back toward V'ro on the heels of those words, a frustrated sound coming out largely as a growl. "'Enough.' What does that even mean, Khav?" He's not shouting but there's heat in the words that is his frustration, his bafflement. "Does it mean you think there's something lacking in you that is the reason I am the way I am? That if you were somehow more or different that I would suddenly be a different person, someone capable of confining my feelings from being what they are? Or someone who wouldn't have feelings outside of this or—" He just cuts off because the words are working and his hands are clenching at his sides and opening and clenching again, muscles taut as he stands in front of V'ro - not an arm's length away, but in his space, crowding him without being so close as to make it hard to see one another's faces.

Look, that much frustrated man coming at anyone is probably a little intimidating and hot, but V'ro doesn't back away from it. That doesn't mean he doesn't look wounded by F'yr calling out his deeper insecurities, granted, but if that's where the bronzerider wants to go, the greenrider will growl back, "I know it's not my fault that you're the way you are, asshole. But at least I'm trying to give you what you want, which is more than you can fucking say!" Is this the talking they were supposed to be doing?

Well, if not, it's on now. "Oh," F'yr's return volly starts with a sound of disgusted vexation, "and just how am I supposed to be trying to give you what you want when you won't fucking tell me what it is you want?!" His hands are getting involved now, wrapping around V'ro's biceps tightly, but not harshly, and giving the greenrider enough to suggest a much stronger shake than is actually delivered. "What do you want, Khav? I'm right here, all ears," and hands and hearts and feelz, "so tell me. Give me a clue so I know where we should be starting from." The last word is softer, a word that breaks, that becomes the plea part of all that pent up desperation, "Please."

His resistance to being handled is more reflexive than actually trying to get away, because right here is where V'ro wants to be. "I have told you!" he yells back at F'yr. "You've told me you can't give me what I want!" Or at least that's how V'ro has understood things. "I don't even know what I want anymore. I tried to leave, tried to get over you." But here he is, clearly not getting over him.

There's a truncated shake that's harder than the once that have come before and the visible effort for F'yr to try to calm himself the fuck down, hands coming off V'ro's shoulders and dropping to his sides. His Adam's apple bobs again perhap because being told this man that he loves tried to get over him is not the warmest, fuzziest of things to hear, but he manages in the next breaths to master himself, at least enough that his voice sounds calm when he says, "Tell me again. What do you want, V'ro? Maybe I don't understand what you want any more than you understand what I mean when I say I love you. Maybe I can-" What, F'yr, be less yourself? His jaw clamps tight. "I feel like I'm trying, but you don't see me trying, so I'm doing something wrong, Khav. Help me sort it out. Please." By that last please, F'yr's wrapping an arm around V'ro's waist, the other hand coming up to cup his chin, and before there can be speech, there will be one kiss, and then another. A third even because sometimes it's easier to say I love you with kisses and be understood than with all these inadequate words.

V'ro lets himself be shaken as though he's sure he deserves that and more. Fortunately he's not crying, but he still looks like he's not far from those emotions spilling over. So when F'yr kisses him, he's relieved that he doesn't have to speak yet, that he can lean into his strong bronzerider and share his emotions in a way that doesn't need words. He so desperately loves this man. But the man wanted to talk, so V'ro doesn't try to keep that momentum going so he doesn't have to. He draws back enough to wrap his arms around F'yr and nuzzle his face against his neck with a shaky breath. "I want to be everything you need," he says, resigned, "But I know I'm not. I never will be. And it hurts so fucking much when I'm with you, but it hurts even more when I'm not."

"But what does that even mean?" F'yr doesn't understand. Lest that plea-demand-exasperated-question strike wrong, the bronzerider pulls back only enough to look down at the greenrider with an anguished-frustrated-still-baffled expression. "Where I grew up, you needed people. Life didn't work when it was just a single person. Not even two were enough. That was family. So you tell me. What does it mean to you to be my 'everything I need.' Because when we're together, I'm here. I'm not wishing I was anywhere else, with anyone else. I'm thinking about you, about us. I love talking with you, spending time with you, just existing near you. When you're not with me, I think about you. I try to do what you need. I try to be what you need. You said you needed space and I respected that even though I just wanted to show up and tell you to listen, tell you to work it through with me, make you stay instead of going. I don't know what else would make this what you want it to be." Other than the obvious, dumbass. At least F'yr sounds entirely sincere in this quietly desperate outpouring of information, so that's probably flattering?

F'yr can look at V'ro all he wants, but the greenrider isn't looking back at him, at least not more than the moment he needs to note that expression. "Am I just supposed to find my own family?" is all he says, voice smaller now that he's shoving his emotions back inside where they belong, and shutting down. "Never mind," he says a moment later, swallowing hard. "It's fine. I'll figure it out." Because he hasn't actually asked the bronzerider to change, and he's not going to start now. "I'll try. To be who you need me to be. Just please stop reminding me that what I need isn't—" He doesn't know how to finish that thought, so he just murmurs again, "Please."

F'yr lets go of V'ro completely, spinning around and kicking the chair that's behind him with force enough that it topples noisily. Turning back toward the man, the bronzerider is the very picture of a man at his wit's end. "YOU ARE PART OF MY FAMILY!" Maybe he has to yell for what he's been trying to say to make sense?

"THAT STILL MAKES YOU THE ONLY FAMILY I HAVE!" V'ro yells back at the larger man. But since he doesn't have anything to throw or push over, he just turns to head back in the direction of the stairs that will lead him to the things he left in F'yr's bedroom.

Okay, well, if F'yr kicked over a chair because he was mad, then he's literally climbing the couch and vaulting over the back to get between V'ro and the stairs, arms extended out, palms up as though half in invitation to an embrace, half a bid for calm… nevermind that he's breathing hard and tears are looking likely. "Please," his voice breaks and then whether V'ro rrreally wants him to or not, he's moving in to attempt to wrap V'ro up in his arms (the better that he can't leave him again), "Please, Khav, we can figure this out. We can." Because they must, because if not, F'yr won't have a Khav to hold anymore and that is just too much. "We don't have to talk about it anymore right now," that's kind of desperate, because he'd much rather figure it out now. "Just, please, don't go."

V'ro is resistant enough to F'yr's embrace that he's tense, but not so much that he outright refuses to let it happen. The bronzerider's words don't do much to calm him. "I feel like I'm the only one actually trying to figure anything out, you self-absorbed asshole!" It's not as biting as it could be if he were truly angry. As it is, the greenrider is frustrated, tired.

Well, good news (?), F'yr is letting V'ro go real fast on the heels of that last remark and he's rocking a step back. Not as biting as it could have been, but apparently biting enough to make a year escape. "You've answered one of my questions, out of all of them, and I didn't even understand the answer. How am I supposed to try when you won't tell me anything?" Except the heat is gone, the frustration slipping away, defeat rushing in in its wake. If V'ro's going to head for the stairs, he'll have company - F'yr will even take the lead, silent and shoulders drooping. It isn't until the silence has stretched long enough for them to be back in the bedroom, for F'yr to tug on a pair of loose pants and have made his way to the fire to feed it that he finds words. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what you need me to do." They're quiet. They're about him, but they're about V'ro too. He doesn't try to ask another question as he turns away from the fire to look for V'ro.

"Just because you don't understand the answers doesn't mean I haven't answered anything," V'ro hisses after F'yr as he follows him up the stairs. "I already told you what I thought we could do, and I don't understand why you even have any issue with it. It seems like exactly what you want out of… whatever we're doing here." He's less concerned with actually putting clothes on or anything just yet.

"You've been answering my questions with questions, how is that answering?" F'yr, exasperated but in a way that seems muted as he spurs himself to motion, progressing with a heavy tread back toward his bed and settle on its edge. "I have issue with it," is simply said, not emotionless, but with a lot less fight and temper than was displayed downstairs, "because it's not just sex for me, Khav. I love you, you're an important part of my life. If you want me to not tell you, I'll try. If you want me to pretend I don't care about you, about your life, about your happiness, I don't think I'll manage. I don't know what your version of not making 'this a whole Thing' entails. But you are a whole—" He breaks off in frustration, words lacking. "It feels like losing you." This might, at least, indicate that while the sex is nice, it's hardly F'yr's focus in this relationship. He possibly could go without the physical sooner than the emotional, but he probably wouldn't like to.

"I love you, too, F'yr. So much." It's earnest, because V'ro really loves the bronzerider. Potentially not in the most healthy of ways. "Nothing about us is just sex, baby," even if it's great, "but I don't know how to share everything else with other people. If you just wanted to fuck them, I could understand that, because sex isn't the important part. But I don't get how you can say you love me and then go tell someone else the same thing. I can't even imagine loving anyone else the way I love you." There's no accusation in his voice, though. V'ro is trying to understand, or at least trying to help F'yr understand why it triggers his insecurities. It's certainly easy for him to believe there's something wrong with him that would make the bronzerider need other people that way.

F'yr's half-perplexed, half-frustrated, "I don't love anyone else the way I love you," may or may not help this situation. "I love you, and only you, the way that I love you." He reaches up to scrub across his face. "The words we have for love aren't enough, could never be enough to define things that can't be adequately expressed in just words. I say I love you to my mum, and I say I love you to my sister, and I mean two entirely different things. They're both encompassed in the grand spectrum that love covers. There's no way to say I love my mother more than my sister or my sister more than my mother, I love them both, I love them differently." He's trying. "I can't imagine loving someone else the way I love you, Khav. I wouldn't want to. That's yours. Or mine. For you. Because of you. No one else could ever make me feel that but you." But more than one person can make him feel something that falls under the heading 'love.' He's not sure, judging by his expression, if he's making things better or worse, so he quiets, looking at V'ro, waiting, perhaps, for… what? He probably doesn't know. Just waiting. Not giving up.

It's not as much better or worse so much as the same exasperation that they've gotten nowhere. "Sharding fuck. If you think I have a problem with you loving your own blood, I don't know why I'm even here." Now he's moving to start gathering his things together to finally pull his clothes back on. "You win, F'yr. I'll do whatever you want, okay?" It's not really a question, he's just tired and, in the end, that's pretty much his only option at this point.

The groan is so genuine. "No. That's not-" but F'yr might not be sure there's a point to finishing that sentence, to trying to explain. "Winning would be working it out, together." But he seems to have hit his point of feeling like that's kind of a doomed effort (at least tonight). He's silent as he shifts a little, hands clasping between his knees, looking at nothing before he looks to V'ro. "Are you leaving?"

"How do we work out something that seems so irreconcilable?" asks V'ro without really expecting an answer. If there was an answer, they wouldn't be where they are now. But still, the greenrider says, "Yeah, I guess. Unless you wanted to keep trying to work it out through fucking." Look, he's only being slightly sarcastic. He's totally willing to give it a shot. "Didn't figure you'd want that, though." And hanging around otherwise just seems a bit awkward at this point.

"I don't know," of course, answering the question that didn't need a response with what is Known. But there's a reason, because it's an earnest look that F'yr gives V'ro. "But I don't want to give up." He's rising then and moving to the greenrider, hands reaching enough to imply a request to enfold V'ro into his arms. "Will you stay and let me hold you a while?" There might even be a round two— since the first was so brief, but that's not foremost on F'yr's mind right now. Just because no one has answers doesn't make F'yr not want to be with V'ro, when V'ro will have him.

For all their frustrations, V'ro steps into F'yr's embrace without hesitation. Truth be told, he probably needs the hug right now, and can only guess that the bronzerider does, too. Common ground! "I'd like that," he says, wrapping his arms around the man he loves and burying his face against the larger man like if he just holds on tight enough, they won't even have to figure anything out, it'll just magically happen!

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