Proddy Is As Proddy Does

Fort Weyr - Southwest Bowl

The dominant feature of the southern end of the bowl is the blue lake that fills the entire southern tip and the rockslide that tumbles down into its far side. It has been many, many, turns since the slide took place, but it still stands uncleared to this day. Occasionally, smaller pebbles tumble down to splash into the waters of the lake below, but the mass seems mostly stable. Sturdy fences mark the feeding pens that the dragons may choose their meals from, located against the west face. The beasthold here is minor, small cramped buildings, used mostly to maintain the herds which feed the dragons. The major beasthold is located out in the forests, just outside the Weyr. There's a sign which warns "that beasts in this location are fair game to the dragons" and that any domestic pleasure stock should be kept in the major beasthold location.

The other feature that does not go unnoticed in this bowl is the large cavernous archway. There seems to be cobble stone laid down near the archway, which causes a clatter when the wagons and trading caravans arrive. Indeed, it seems that there's a tunnel out of the bowl here, wide enough for two trader caverns to fit through and possibly a small blue dragon. To the opposite end, the great bowl stretches away far, leading to some very interesting locations.

Following Cherith’s advice, M’ti had asked around about Keruthien and was downright appalled by what he’d heard. Not only was the man a scoundrel and a cad, but apparently he had a bedpost with a notch for every conquest. Never the same one twice, always looking for the next challenge, and he’d left quite a trail of broken hearts in his wake. NOPE. Knowing this, the greenrider made it a point to avoid the smithcrafter from then on, turning away and flat out leaving anytime he spotted him. He was no longer on the cusp of teetering between trust and mistrust, he hadn’t heard a single good thing about Keruthien, and had come to highly doubt his supposed blood-ties to a certain high ranking bronzerider. There was absolutely no resemblance! Okay so maybe there was, physically, but personality wise? No, M’ti was going to make it clear that he was not about to be another trophy to be held high and shown off, just to be shelved with the others and forgotten. Now way, Joseth. What started out as spot and flee over the next couple of days however, begins to become an active search, looking for Keruthien’s face at every crowded meal or wander through the marketplace, not even conscious of the fact that Cherith was looking prettier and prettier with every passing hour. This means that by the time that she was outright glowing, Matty was on the hunt, practically prowling around the weyr with a determined step that had those who knew him well enough to spot the change lifted a brow or ten. It’s not long after that the rumor mill had started to whisper that Cherith, and in reflection her rider, were Proddy at last for the very first time. Tonight, with the full moons hung high in the sky above the weyr and casting their eerie glow onto the scene below, Cherith was curled up in the bowl hissing at the males getting too close, while M’ti was flushed and rather determinedly stalking across it away from her as they had just landed and he was still on a seek and (likely/unlikely?) destroy mission. Run Keruthien, run for your life!

What kind of people was M'ti talking to!? Keruthien would like to know — actually, he could give less fucks, really! He's aware of the gossip about him, knowing very well that it's a decent mix of truth and garbage and, knowing him, incites a good portion of it! Why not join in on the fun of tarnishing your own name, when you ooze confidence and arrogance like he does? Okay, nix the arrogance, but he's certainly comfortable with himself not to care much what others think. He's got friends (kind of)! They got to know him and that's all that matters, right? Right. M'ti's hunts were likely fruitless because Keruthien, despite his never do well attitude, actually does work hard at his Craft! Do what you love, love what you do, am I right? So he has projects and commissions and jobs to complete, which keeps him busy enough and not as wildly free as he pretends to be when prowling the social scenes. Whether by fate, terrible luck again or just pure coincidence, the greenrider won't have to go on his seek and destroy mission for long! As if thus summoned, Keruthien steps around a throng of weyrfolk heading home. He's dressed down, in his cleaner work clothes and likely on the way to returning to his room in order to change properly. Freshly bathed, he's still combing out his damp hair with his hand as he walks — or trying to keep the winds and cool autumn air from mucking it up. Whistling to himself, he's completely oblivious to M'ti's hunting of him or that Cherith is nearby and in the throws of advanced proddiness. One becomes dull to that overtime when living in a Weyr!

All kinds of people! Little people, big people, young people, old people. Though really, everyone knows that the best gossip can be heard near the big hearth in the living cavern, where the Aunties gather to spin their yarns, literally and figuratively. M’ti, of course, had little idea that Keruthien himself was responsible for some of the things that he’d heard about him, not through doing, but rather intentionally adding flavor and depth to his own disreputable reputation for the fun of it. After many hours today of flying around the weyr— and perhaps not thinking of checking the smithy due to his current state— M’ti finally spots his prey and without so much as a pause, turns his steps towards him.There was purpose in every footfall because he was downtight determined to give that man a piece of his mind! How dare he paint a target on his back and take bets that he could ‘land’ him (another rumor that he’d heard at some point). The audacity! The chill in the air had nothing on the churning and turbulent heat sunk into the greenrider’s cheeks, surprisingly quiet as he comes up behind Keruthien as he carelessly whistles and combs his fingers through his dark hair, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and with surprising strength drags him off and out of sight around a darkened corner where the torchlight could not reach, “You!” M’ti hisses as he not that gently tosses the smith up against the cool rockface and advances upon him. Oh, such fury! Really though, this first round of Proddiness was hitting him hard, it was next to impossible to keep his thoughts from wandering, and while he may be glowering at Keruthien and looking like he was about to open up a can of whoop ass on him— and really how embarrassing would that be for smug and self-assured smithy— M’ti was looking at him in this intense way that suggested anything could happen next, practically shaking in the measured pause before he sends some seriously mixed messages. In one moment he’s slapping the poor man across the face with an open palm, “I am not a notch!” and then in the next he grabs a fistful of whatever material covers the center of Keruthien’s chest and yanks him down into a kiss that burned with the passion of a million suns. Lips, tongue, teeth, it was a mad flurry of all of the everything, while behind him Cherith takes to the sky with more than half a dozen males in chase.

That whistling of Keruthien’s ends with a ragged note, not unlike a record scratching as the needle drags across the surface. Hauled by the neck of his jacket, brought to some unseen nook and then pushed up against a rock wall? Immediately his mind scatters to a list of names of individuals he may have rubbed the wrong lately (unintentionally) but recognition dawns sharp and fast. “Hey—“ he begins to exclaim in greeting, only to realized he’d been hissed at. Oh, wait? Puzzled, his bright blue eyes study the greenrider carefully, in a mix of wary intrigue as he reassesses this change in the young man. Such fury! It doesn’t quail a man like Keruthien, though he’s clearly at a loss as to what brought it on! Not that he’s left guessing for long and as the truth starts to come to the surface, Keruthien scoffs. “That’s what’s got you —“ Next is the sound of M’ti’s hand making contact with HIS face, a resounding and hopefully satisfactory crack that has his head knocked aside briefly. “… well fuck…” It’s Keruthien’s turn to hiss an intake of breath between teeth, curse and all, as redness blooms gradually across his skin. Blue eyes sharpen, paling as his emotions shift and rise and yes, he’s miffed for that slap! Doesn’t dull his interest, even if now it’s piqued in more ways than one! There’s no chance to regroup, as next his linen tunic is being gathered under M’ti’s fist and he’s hauled forwards, down and into that kiss. “Mmhm …” So much for a protest, though a thousand questions will race through his head and be thoroughly dismissed in favour of raw emotion and passion. When it becomes obvious that the greenrider isn’t immediately withdrawing, Keruthien goes all in to returning the kiss, driving it deeper, harder with each passing second. Those hands of his? They’d been raised in open palm defence just seconds ago, but now they’re sliding over M’ti’s hips, up his sides, along his back. Eventually, the disruption of several dragons taking wing will have him opening an eye to catch the mass exodus led by Cherith and he sighs heavily and hot against the younger man’s lips. A nip to his lower lip, a suggestive nibble to jaw and then, huskily whispered by his ear between heavy breaths. “… that’s how it is, is it? Got somewhere to go, then?” He does not seem the least bit flustered, at all, that a proddy rider is pouncing him!

Yeah, M’ti doesn’t care at all what sorts of sounds or excuses that Keruthien makes, he was hauling him away and off somewhere secluded so that he could deal with him in relative solitude. Mano a Mano. Who knows how the greenrider might have reacted to that dawning recognition if he was in his right mind, but right now he frowns and hisses, his apparent foul mood none improved by the puzzlement to be found on Keruthien’s face as to why. It could very well be that his scoffing reply is the reason that a hand is lifted and swung hard across his cheek, the resounding sharp smack of flesh slapped together indeed quite satisfying as was the imprint of his hand on that smug face. Not that he says as much, but that had really gotten the greenrider’s blood pumping, the sharpening blue of Keruthien’s eyes added fuel to the fire, one that was rapidly burning higher and hotter but not for the same reasons that he’d suddenly assaulted the smith. A sudden powerful and irresistible urge to do something flows out from Cherith right about then and slams into M’ti like a tsunami and in so doing inspires the rough grab of Keruthien’s tunic and the proceeding yank and an albeit somewhat clumsy kiss that was as gratifying as it amplified feelings of lust and desire until a kiss just wasn’t enough. The greenrider growls and suddenly he was good, he was really good, applying his mouth in ways that should be downright illegal and might even make one wonder how it might feel elsewhere on their body. See, as Keruthien went all in, as muddle headed as M’ti was at the moment, he proves he is quite the fast learner and soon they’re kissing in a hard, deep, unbridled mash of lips and tongue, with the latter pressing his body up against the former and practically quaking beneath the slide of those strong work calloused hands, releasing a sound that was the perfect marriage of a moan to a whimper of need. But instead of intention, there is clinging and the devouring of lips, rocking his body with intention but not in such a way as to indicate that the greenrider had no more than a passing idea of what he should do with this or that part of either of them and ends up just grinding his very obvious arousal against whatever part of Keruthien he can manage in front of him. Talk about an one eighty, eh? Though, with Cherith rising and her potential captors swiftly in her wake, the kiss breaks to leave M’ti panting softly and groaning for the teeth which nip at his lower lip and nibble across his smooth jawline, “Y-yeah…” he manages, somehow between ragged breaths of his own and another roll of his body up against the smith’s needfully, “Ground weyr…” comes in a huff, and with that he yanks himself away this time with Keruthien by his tunic in tow whether he liked it or not and the proddiest of proddy greenriders drags him across the bowl to the ground weyrs. He doesn’t even check to see if that particular one is occupied as he practically kicks down it’s door and tosses poor poor Keruthien inside, slamming the door closed behind him. Sorry chaser’s dragons, they’d have to find their own comfort, the prize had gone off and selected his own. Door locked with a click, M’ti devours the visual of wherever the smithcrafter had landed, slowly stripping out of his jacket as he begins to advance upon him again, this time for an entirely new reason.

Keruthien’s not really paying full attention to the skill level of the kiss, as his thoughts are still reeling from memories of a much more withdrawn, uninterested, young man, to being hauled away, slapped and then kissed. It’s a lot to process, which is great that he’s mastered just shoving all else aside for the heat of the moment! Alarm bells? Common sense? Keruthien has none of this; he’s invested, HAD been invested prior to this and now the greenrider is throwing himself at him, dragonlust be damned — it’s a win, in his books! Especially when M’ti proves eager and voices that stirring sound of matched moan and whimper. It brings a low, quiet guttural sound, from Ruthien, almost a sighed exhale of delight. One eighty is right, but unknowing of just how inexperienced the younger man is, he has chalked it up, dimly, to over eagerness. His body shifts, accepting that press and grind from him, his hands skillfully guiding M’ti ever-so gently along to a better alignment as he, unashamed, slips his leg between his and encourages the behaviour. Ground weyr! The words draw a smug, heated grin from him, blue eyes locked on M’ti and now bright with lust and he does not struggle in being visibly tugged along for ALL to see across the Weyr to the ground weyrs. He’d be callous enough to blow a kiss and wiggle his fingers at any riders looking perplexed in their wake. Sorry! Not sorry. Into the weyr they go and while M’ti concerns himself with the door, Keruthien is already making himself at home and comfortable by moving things along. Off goes his shirt in one fluid movement, leaving it to be tossed aside without a care of where it ends up. As he turns to face the younger man, it’s evident enough that even his blood is running hot; there’s a visible flush to his skin. Tall as he is, his built to suit that frame and lean overall in muscle. Normally he prefers to advance, but as M’ti is taking charge in that department, Keruthien holds his ground; his hips dip, weight transferring heavily to one side, an alluring posture meant to seduce without even so much as taking a step. His head lifts, chin held up haughtily as he runs his tongue along his teeth, while his lips curve devilishly. Those blue eyes narrow, hard as ice but hot, so bright and fixated on M’ti. “Come on, then…” he all but purrs, silver tongued invite and challenge, all wrapped in a neat, tidy, package.

Time Marches On…..

Music to Ruthien's ears, that final crescendo between them! He lives as much for moments like these as he does everything else that he experiences. It's sensory overload and he's willing to let go entirely and drown in everything that the greenrider has to offer and oh — does M'ti ever deliver! His body begins to sag, leaning heavily down but before he fully crushes M'ti under him, he slings an arm alongside him to prop himself up. Dimly he's aware of the sweat coating both of them (not that he cares), his eyes slow to open even to just the narrowest of slits, still heavy and heated with residual arousal and lust, but there is a satisfied edge now. Heart racing, breathing heavy but slowing, he will give an amused huff regardless as his lips curve into the laziest, smuggest grin yet. "… that was… " What? He never finishes that sighed admission, tilting his head to drag him into a slow burning kiss; something of which to merely kindle the last remaining sparks. Eventually he will roll off of him, but he won't go far. Instead, he stretches out languidly, groaning softly with another one of his signature throaty chuckles. And if M'ti thinks he's free? HA! Ruthien will make sure to snare him in some snuggling. See? He's not that bad of a scoundrel. As if this has granted him full access (maybe it has, at least for now?), his hands will gently roam over his body; it's almost tender the way his fingers caress and map him. Touchy feely as he is on a regular day, it shouldn't be a surprise that it would translate to times like these as well. He even goes as far as to run his fingertips over his lips and across his cheek, up into his hair where he strokes back locks in soothing familiarity. "You ok?" Ruthien aims for the standard query of any partner, though even in his exhausted-daze, it's obvious he has an inkling of an idea to the answer.

Matty’s legs shake somewhat even as they come to rest against his sides, just as drenched in sweat as Keruthien was and probably caring about all that sweat about as much as the latter does. Still flushed, still panting heavily through the gap in his lips, a few errant strands of golden brown hair stuck to the perspiration dewy on his forehead, ever so slowly the greenrider’s ashen lashes lift and reveal the hazel his lids had hidden and even now M’ti was quite the sight. Apparently to such a degree that statements are left unfinished and his lips soon burn with a kiss that makes his mind go blank to anything other to make the places on his body in direct contact with Ruthien hot and draws a soft pleasured sound from the young man. It also serves well enough as a distraction, muffling his brief verbalization of discomfort before the sagging of his completely satisfied body. Then, M’ti closes his eyes and just tries to catch his breath without trying to gather his scattered thoughts or understand his feelings on what just happened. It was too difficult anyway with similar sensation rolling off Cherith, letting out a soft sound of surprise and his body tensing as he’s grabbed and pulled up against the smithy in a sneak attack snuggle maneuver. This is short lived, his body far too honest as he's caressed beneath work roughened fingertips, relaxing and shivering with a wild cascade of goosebumps that betrays him so completely. It means a fresh blush, even as hazel eyes find Ru’s bright blue when fingers are brushed over his hips and the heat of his cheek. That M’ti looks downright confused by the tenderness to be found in this post-coital bliss, may or may not be surprising. Blushing deeply and quickly pressing his face into the man’s shoulder for that rather pointed question, “I'm sore…” is all that’s given in reply as he burrows, hoping that exhaustion and sleep take him before he has to answer anything else. He’ll figure out tomorrow, whatever this weird feeling was.

"Yeah… I bet you are." Blunt truth, but wasn't there a warning to go slow? Keruthien attempts to make an effort not to, but in the end, he can't help but laugh at the reply given. M'ti will feel the laughter, as much as he hears it, being pressed so close as he is to his body. With a bemused exhaled breath, he'll give one last caress of his hand over his hair and down his back before settling and leaving the exhausted greenrider to sleep. They'll have plenty of time to talk later or not, Ruthien isn't ruffled in the least in concern of what may come now that they're resting and M'ti will no doubt be more within his senses upon waking. He never quite sleeps, his restfulness more of a light drifting, but he is familiar and comfortable with that pattern. It could be he never sleeps soundly, even when alone. Will it be just an hour or a handful, before he finally rouses and can no longer remain still, on the bed? Who knows. He's at least respectful of M'ti, if he does wake fully before the greenrider. Even so, his careful movements hold great reluctance and he takes his time to remove himself from around the younger man's body and off the bed. Quiet footsteps across the floor, naked as the day he was born and he goes in search of something, anything, in which to clean up with. The drudges keep the ground weyrs stocked with basic necessities, including ewers or pitchers of fresh water and somewhere in which to wash down. It's not exactly warm or all that comfortable, but beggars can't be choosers! Cleaner than he was, he'll begin to sort through the discarded clothing, folding what isn't his neatly aside. As much as he is one to enjoy lounging around buck naked in privacy, it's cold and so he'll start to find his pants at the very least and slip them back on. All done with as minimal a sound of rustling fabric and the click of belt and buckle. Never does it cross his mind that, should the greenrider wake and see him in that moment, that the wrong idea will be given. Always living in the present, never a thought to the future and so Keruthien is absorbed in his current thoughts of 'get warm, get comfortable' and not a single worry to plague him.

There may have been a warning to be slow, but even Keruthien had disregarded it. The twitch of brows upon the greenrider’s forehead could be felt rather than seen as the shoulder he’d pressed his face into to hide begins to bounce and laughter fills his ears. Oh yes, this was exactly how’d he’d envisioned his first time. Swept away by the lust of his lifemate, ending up in bed with the smug philandering bastard who’d he gone out of his way to avoid despite a downright visceral attraction to him the moment they’d met, and now with his backside screaming at him in pain— he was being laughed at. Tension returns to Matty’s body, but he doesn’t do any anything more than lay there as his hair is caress and his back stroked. Fight as he may to stay awake latched onto the turbulent emotion running rampant throughout his mind, sleep steals consciousness from him and his body relaxes finally. At some point in all the smith’s light drifting, M’ti whimpers and rolls over, snuggling into one of the pillows on the guest weyr bed with his back to Ruthien but he is lost to several hours of deep sleep before the chill in the room wakes him enough to be aware of that deep seeded ache to be found anew that hadn’t existed before Cherith’s flight. The bits and pieces of what happened start to come back to him, Keruthien can be heard moving around, the sound of pants and a belt being put back on. M’ti didn’t know why that made him feel so incredibly upset, unable to untangle whether it was through sadness or anger or both— which was disconcerting all in of itself. Why would he feel anything other than relief? It happened, it was over, time to move on. Right? At least, this was how the mating flights lecture had covered it, but all of a sudden M’ti felt uncomfortable and extremely unhappy with how things had and were playing out. Eyes stinging and tears threatening despite his best effort to remain stoic, the greenrider’s jaw tightens, convincing himself to start moving. To sit up, to scoot to the side of the bed, but that’s as far as he gets with it because, ow. Just, ow, okay? This factor just makes the situation worse in his mind and humiliated, M’ti reaches towards the side table to slide the drawer open quietly for the numbweed he knew he’d find in there, his pale naked back to redressing smithy.

Most would know better and perhaps a gentler partner would’ve had the common sense not to do as he does; maybe it would have spared M’ti some of the confusion of emotions and the onset of tears. Unfortunately (or not) Keruthien isn’t your typical guy but neither is he completely oblivious! The greenrider almost gets away with his movements, but the drawer and bed will betray him in the end. He’ll pause for a half second, fingers deftly adjusting his pants to rest more comfortably off his hips. Blue eyes roam unashamed over his body and there is a lazy smile that curves his lips. He cannot pick up on any teary eyed look M’ti may yet have. “Hey,” he greets in a thick voice, from his little cat-nap and because he keeps it decently hushed. No need for shouting, right? “Did I wake you? It’s sharding cold… so I got up. Could see if they got stuff for the hearth? This place even have one?” It’s a rambling string of words, spoken softly but with the same energetic warmth he possessed on their previous meetings. He’s moving again too, but not towards the door as M’ti assumed. Oh no, Keruthien is coming for the bedside, with the gait of someone who is assured that he has all the right to join the other on said bed and right into personal space! At least there’s no kissing or heavy petting involved (yet)? Along the way, he’d quickly crouched down to gather something and upon settling himself on the bed (too close), he’ll set it aside in a safe (and clean) spot! It’s M’ti’s clothing, all nicely bundled. “… figured you’d want those too, to warm up in. Or, y’know, there’s an alternative.” Ahh, there’s his grin, all mischievous again and suggestive, along with a wink. It’s only in a brief sobering moment that Ruthien finally notices the jar and now it’s his turn to misunderstand if there so happens to be a trace of those earlier tears or upset in the younger man’s features. “You sure you’re okay?” he prompts again and yes, with genuine concern hovering somewhere just beneath the surface. For a whole two seconds, before his expression seems to brighten and he rambles off into yet another offer. “If it’s hurting that bad, while you’re doing that, I can get you some stuff? They’ve got a few small towels and some water… it’s sharding cold too, just gonna warn you, but it’ll get you cleaned up!” Look at that face, M’ti! How could you be mad at it? Ruthien looks like an eager puppy-dog, eager to please and if he’s aware of anything more? He’s burying it under his carefree attitude. If M’ti wants to talk about it, he’ll listen but otherwise? Ruthien’s happy to sweep it under a rug for now.

The once comforting groan and shuffle of wood becomes Matty’s betrayers, although he’s not aware of this until Keruthien greets him, nearly causing him to drop the container of numbweed salve in his hands, “Uh, hey…” he replies softly and maybe a bit too quickly, as if he was hiding something (hint: it’s totally the numbweed), and the why of how he sounded more awake likely contributed to the fact that he’d genuinely rested. “Not really,” comes in response as to whether or not the man was responsible for his awakened state, “I’m a light sleeper in unfamiliar places…” True enough. Watery hazel eyes almost peek over one shoulder as the smithy explains why it was that he’d gotten out of the bed they’d shared, but it was a trap! “It’s over there,” M’ti points towards the wall on his side of the room and Ru would quickly discover it had all the fixings for a nice roasty toasty fire. That the man’s pattern of speech was unchanged only seemed to confuse the greenrider even more, but then again he didn’t seem to be in a rush to be out the door as he’d initially thought either. UGH! It boggles the mind! But M’ti was just sitting there, afraid to move and clutching that salve to his chest before he seems to remember that he was and swiftly sets it on the nightstand as he closes the drawer. About then, Ruthien comes over with his clothing as plops himself down, the former practically in his lap just as all those welling tears are blinked to race down his cheeks. Hey, they had to go somewhere and that wasn’t the sort of thing that drained anywhere else, but Matty is quick to swipe at them as the smithy chatters on, if only to end up slowly turning his head and staring at him for that ‘alternative’ while at the same time revealing the evidence of his upset. Oh, that grin, it makes his heart skip a beat even if there was a leering perverted glean to it, “No,” he replies, voice thickening, as to the okayness of him but before he can say anything more the smithy launches into that rambling list of things that he was willing to do for him. It make Matty’s chest tight as he stares at him in wide eyed and watery disbelief. Who was this man? Without thought, even as he releases a soft sound akin to a sob, the greenrider leans over and kisses him right on the mouth— a thing that happens all without being able to use his dragon’s lust as an excuse. It might start off chaste, but as long as Keruthian allows, it all too rapidly escalates to something deep and unrelentingly passionate as he leans into the exchange. Shard it! Why’d he have to go and say those things and look at him like that and…UGH!

"H-Hey, why are you crying?" Keruthien tries to lighten the mood a bit by keeping his tone gentle, his smile faltering in the slightest flicker of uncertainty under the waterworks presented to him. So he does have a heart (and a conscious mind, to go with it)! Most would keep their distance still, while lending support but not him. No, before he may even be aware of it himself, he's reaching out to try and brush a few of those tears away when the greenrider isn't busily doing it himself. Then? Then he is being kissed, but the frown he sports after hearing that sob is translated through the lack of immediate response from him. Not that he remains that way for long; he'll sigh against those lips, a faint smile curving regardless as he follows the lead set by M'ti. Leaning into the exchange as well, his hands will seek to take a firm, caressing hold of his nearest arm, a gentle tug to draw them closer before his hand finds the smooth planes of his back once more. There is passion there, but subdued to a more comforting heat, as he practices self control without denying M'ti the kisses he initiated. Ruthien will even deepen them, a slow, thorough, round that will end with them both having to break away to catch their breaths. It won't stop him from uttering a throaty chuckle and a rather satisfied sounding exhale. His head tilts, hair tumbling haphazardly across his features as he stares at him through slightly lidded eyes. "Did that help?" he asks, bemused but also genuinely curious, while he lifts a lone hand up to stroke the pad of his thumb over a potentially tear-damp cheek. "Dunno if I've ever made anyone cry before." And he isn't sure if he likes the experience! Still doesn't keep him from cracking a joke about it, however. "Y'sure you're alright? I mean, hell, that was something… and you not really being used to it, to boot. Not sure if you're a damn trooper to take it like that or crazy to try, but, heh —" Ruthien stops his rambling to give one of those cheshire cat-like grins. "Glad you found me again." Because it was totally HIS doing and not M'ti just hunting him down and jumping his bones in a hormone fueled rush. Just when it may seem like he's a complete softy and the mood may actually even out to something remotely comfortable and pleasant? He ruins it — unintentionally, of course. Leaning in again, he'll adopt that devil-may-care attitude that usually signals he's about to either say or do something stupid. "So," he muses, "Does this mean I'm a notch on your belt?" Oh yeah, he hasn't forgotten being SLAPPED earlier, M'ti! Or accused. Not that he cares, but he clearly thinks that NOW is the time to joke about it!

There wasn’t much that could have lightened Matty’s mood at that point, although once he realizes his mistake— that Keruthien wasn’t just going to screw him and walk out— he’s shaking his head and laughing shortly, but not in a way that indicated actual amusement, “It’s nothing…” he tries to explain, “I just…I thought you were going to…” Then, that too willing to please puppy-like behavior wholly focused on trying to make M'ti as comfortable as possible, well, who could possibly react anyway other than the way he does? Relief, coupled with that the tiniest plantings of unmarked emotion. Of course, even he wouldn’t know what they were unless they bloomed. The tentative brush of tears from his face, all of that personal focus? The greenrider doesn’t spend the next swath of time thinking about much more than how his lips needing to be on his, pronto. It's hard to say if he can tell that the smithy is frowning, but when the kiss isn’t immediately returned, it falters on Matty’s end a bit and he's enough to start pulling away. With Ruthien’s sigh and that faint smile, it might seem like that was going to be it, but as lips and tongue on the smithy's end are applied, there’s an awkward reinitiation, until finally things become all too natural again. The pressure provided as the man leans in is reassuring, as is the caressing hold of his arm and the way it’s used to tug them closer together. Yes, there’s even a shiver for the drift of the smith’s vocation roughed hand along Matty’s back, sinking into the warmth and depth provided and all too easily lured into something passionate enough to bring back the night’s activities in momentary flashes detailed enough that Ruthien would be able to feel the heat coming off the greenrider’s face as he flushes deeply. There was no denying that M’ti was breathing a little heavier when the kiss breaks, remaining close through husky chuckles and gratified sighs. After a moment, ashen lashes lift to half stance, distracted by that drifting lock and then the alluring picture that it paints in combination with those hooded eyes on an all too handsome face, “Mhmm…” comes the greenrider’s response which was neither positive or negative in reply to Ruthien’s question, far too distracted by proximity and the pressing rub of a thumb being stoked over his wet cheek, hazel eyes dropping soon after, “…I thought you were going to…” Lips are pressed tightly together, the 'leave' of his statement unspoken. Though a closer approximation to thought was— slipping out in the dead of night like the no good rascally virginity thief M’ti had thought he was. “Sorry,” he murmurs about the whole crying thing, not even really sure why’d that even happened if he was honest, other than the fact he’d just felt so upset at the very idea that Ruthien appeared to be about to walk out the door. There’s a quiet bob to the greenrider’s head, an affirmative to his alrightness. Really, other than hurting as should be expected of his first time, physically he was perfectly okay, and so looks back up if just to flush brightly red as the smithy starts to ramble on about it and quickly his gaze darts off elsewhere, “Well, Cherith…” he murmurs but his voice trails off into a mutter so low there was no use in trying to strain and hear it, the tips of his ears burning for the gigantic grin he can see out of the corner of his eyes and the apparent gladness that the greenrider had sought him out. As Keruthian leans in, M’ti suddenly meets his gaze and just in time for that sundering amusement, and for a second there is confusion and zero recognition. In the next? M’ti stiffens and looks away quickly, working his jaw a bit because the smithy smirking like that reminds him of all the things he’d said and done while he half out of his mind with dragon lust. After some silence and a deep breath, “I shouldn’t have said or done that…I’m sorry…” Because what doesn’t go with literal butt hurt like a big cup of steaming hot guilt?

Keruthien isn’t stupid. He’s long since had the answer or at least a form of it, and when M’ti doesn’t quite finish the statement, he’s right there to try his hand at it even before he does. “Cut and run? I might’ve,” he admits freely, without pause or even a second thought. Who wants a whole heap of honesty, given with that lazy smile of his? Because that’s what’s being served right now. “In a different situation, where I figured you’d be used to it or whatever. Y’know,” he flips a hand idly, dismissively. “The usual game rules with most casual flings. You, however, don’t deserve that.” Or know any better but that’s Ruthien trying to soften the blow a bit; not that he’s aiming to insult or offend. He’s just stating it how he sees it! And he’s not wholly wrong, even if his approach is the worst. After yet another round of shared intimacy and closeness, he’s proven decently correct on his earlier assumption and he’ll exhale, bemused. One hand will stroke over his hair, comforting and yet playful all the same. “Heh, don’t think you should be apologizing. How would you know?” Again, the blunt truth of it! Yet there’s no shaming in his tone; he’s well aware that he was a virgin and how his hand was played in taking that all-important card from the younger man. Ruthien will tentatively touch on whatever emotions are surfacing at the thought of it, only to quickly brush it all aside. Nope, that’ll be addressed… never, because that’s what Ruthien’s do. There’s a quiet laugh when he stiffens and looks away, undaunted by the embarrassment or guilt. Instead he’ll lean in for a chaste-like peck to the cheek and a wicked grin to go with it. “You’re forgiven. Though you had every right. I mean, it’s not like this isn’t the first time I’ve deserved to be slapped…” Among other things but he doesn’t elaborate further. “M’ti, right? I’m gonna go mess with hearth, see if we can’t get some warmth in here.” The bed creaks again, as his weight shifts and he slowly sits up to move away. “If you’re not in a hurry, that is.” Amusement again, a sly look aside to him, with a smirk firmly in place.

The greenrider purses his lips as Keruthien fills in the blanks he’d gone and left, ultimately nodding and sliding his eyes right on off again somewhere. Yep, that was exactly what he thought he was doing, and had the smithy been Aedeluth’s rider or anyone else really— something told M'ti that he would have played ‘sleeping’ until they were gone. What was up with having such a strong reaction to Ruthien leaving in particular? Logically, it could only mean one of two things, one of which he refused to entertain at all, while the other merely suggested that the next couple of flights would be rough until he got used to the idea. Hazel eyes are drawn back with the dismissive wave of the smithy’s hand, catching on the bright blue of his gaze, ”I get it…” he answers softly and then he’s looking back towards the nightstand and the numbweed that was sitting there hoping the smith could catch a hint. Ruthien was just being nice, M’ti reminds himself, it didn't mean that the greenrider was anything special. The circumstances had been what they were, and thus whatever tiny embers of this and that which had been kindled due to the smith’s lingering there after the fact— thus prompting that tear-stained kiss— flickers and fades in earnest. On top of that pang of disappointed which followed was the sense that Matty was a complete and utter fool for feeling anything at all, made all the worse by Keruthien's well meaning behaviors, such as the petting his hair. Matty's shoulders lift and drift back down in a shrug for the not knowing of things. Maybe because he was a dragonrider and sat through the mating flights lecture like everyone else? Getting dressed and leaving was expected and yet, M’ti had reacted purely on instinct rather than his training. At least when it came to emotions, greenrider and smith seemed to be on the same page, sort of. One denying such a thing could exist and the other accepting that it never would, gaze quickly darting back to Ruthien as he laughs, notably startled by the peck to his cheek but there is only the smallest coloring in response to it. Lips pursed as he hears that the man’s had more than enough situations arise in which a slap had been warrented. Yeah. He’d heard that, but he wasn’t going to say it. Brows lift slightly with an acknowledging nod, “M’ti…” See, Keruthien had to CHECK with him to make sure his name was right, and this only seems to reconfirm that everything had been in his head. About then, the greenrider felt even more stupid for thinking that it could possibly be otherwise. “Okay…” What else could he say? M’ti was embarrassed four times over at this point and couldn't even have a lick of actual privacy to tend to himself. Lovely. Thanks so much Cherith! Still… that smug smirk brings heat and a deep flush to the greenrider’s cheeks, gaze dropping with a quietly murmured, “I don’t have to be anywhere…” What?! What was he saying just then? Why was it so hard to end this?

"Perfect! Neither do I." Keruthien's probably lying but it's likely not the first time he hasn't shown up at the expected hour, for whatever reason. It's a wonder if he'll hold his Journeyman rank this long, at this rate? Or maybe his skills outweigh his poor manners. Who knows! Regardless, he is not in a huge hurry to leave and his mannerisms and postures adopt a very relaxed state of one planning to settle in for the long run. Sauntering over to the hearth, he'll crouch down and begin to meddle with the supplies left, eventually succeeding in his endeavor but only after much muttering and cursing under his breath. There's a little whoop of delight uttered when the flames catch and then a self-satisfied chuckle; he doesn't immediately rise to his feet, keeping his back presented to M'ti and entirely on purpose. He's giving the younger man a chance to patch himself up and also clean up, without the unnecessary oogling on his part; because let's face it, even Ruthien knows his weaknesses! "So," he pipes up cheerily, almost out of the blue. "You originally from Fort or did they drag you here for your Candidacy? Or you a transfer?" Spoken oh-so casually, despite whatever confusion it may seed beneath the genuinely interested tone. He had to check his name and now he's asking mildly personal questions? Who is this guy, indeed! Maybe the silence was getting to him. Keruthien would be the type to despise silence, wouldn't he? So he fills it with anything and everything his mind can think of.

Yep, there’s a blink for that. M’ti might as well get used to looking at Keruthien as if he’s growing extra heads, because that was certainly becoming a thing and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon. Brows knit, the greenrider stares after him as the man practically bounces towards the hearth to start working on getting a fire started, but eventually blinks a few more times and starts on getting himself situated over there. Things, as it were, are tended to as well as cleaning up enough that pulling on his pants and tunic was slightly less unappealing. Hazel eyes were on the lookout for his boots, wherever they might be, as he tugs his shirt on. It was sharding cold in there and it felt weird to be naked in private with someone he barely could say he was acquainted with, despite what they had already done together. Accurately, M’ti says not a word in all that time, although he does look over at the smith a couple of time throughout pensively. He was only just starting to feel less weird about things when Ruthien speaks, startling the greenrider slightly, and after a pregnant silence in which his mouth opened and then closed again, “I was flight born at Benden weyr, but raised in the Hold. I was posted to Fort under one of the craftmasters…searched for Xanadu and then searched back to Fort. Cherith and I recently graduated…” he replies quietly. To say that M’ti continued to be taken aback by Ruthien’s mysterious nature would be an understatement, and yet following a tentative pause, “…and you?” comes quieter still. M’ti had returned to sitting on the edge of the bed, sockless and bootless, the discomfort that had teased at his features all but gone. Numbweed man, getting the job done since only Faranth knows when.

M'ti may have put his shirt back on, but Keruthien hasn't and doesn't seem inclined to finish dressing now that the fire is going. There's a soft whistle from him and a grin that he can't see, but will likely pick up all the same in his voice. "That's quite the jump from place to place," he casually remarks, then exhales like he can understand how that might just feel. Maybe he does! They hardly know anything about each other, after all. "Ah. So you're one of the newest bunch, huh?" It's acknowledged as though it's merely a piece of news he wasn't even fully aware of; the reason behind that will become all too clear in a moment. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, there's obvious smirking delight when he catches that quiet-little prompt from the greenrider. "Me?" He echoes back, while slowly, languidly, rising to his feet again. There's a thoughtful tilt of his head, a roll of his shoulders that's a half shrug as he pads his way back to the bed. Without a second thought, he'll drop himself down right beside M'ti and not seem to care if it jostles the younger man or not. Ruthien does whatever he wants, after all! "I'm weyrbred, through and through. Both my parents are riders and I've lived most of my life in Xanadu Weyr, 'cept for the obvious blip here and there. I've come to Fort for a bit to broaden my studies, get some insight on a few personal projects. Visit extended family, y'know…" BORING THINGS. Keruthien has no troubles rambling on about himself, though much is left out despite the length of his story. "You just so happened to find me on my downtime. Twice!" Chuckling low and throaty, he'll glance sidelong and down at M'ti. "And I was serious on getting a bite to eat too, later. Y'know, so maybe you won't totally end up regretting taking me as a bed partner." Said plain as can be and without so much as a single faltering letter! He just drops that there, along with a playful nudge of his elbow to the other's side. He'll weather whatever reaction comes that way, maybe even bracing for another slap from the greenrider, but he'll continue on regardless! "Seriously, though… flight hormones aside, I stand by what I said before. You're cute," he says this, of course, while leaning back slightly, still shirtless, on one of his arms for support. His eyes, so blue and bright, are fixed solely on M'ti, even in the flickering firelight and that smile offered should be illegal. "And interesting. I'd hate if this chased you off but I'd get it too. Just say the words and I'll leave ya alone for the rest of my visit!"

Oh, M’ti had noticed the lack of shirt, and there was plenty of pink to his cheeks to prove it. Stolen glances and a whole lot of self reprimand had come into play, seemingly unable to help the firm drag of his gaze along broad shoulders and the stretch of skin over the vertebrae of the man’s skin as he hunches over the hearth to feed the fire he’d gotten started. At the time at least, there was solace in the fact that Keruthien kept his back to him so that the greenrider could look him over and appraise him without the harassment of being smugly and knowingly grinned at. There was no doubt that he liked what he saw, but maybe not so much with being teased so relentlessly for it, “Yes,” comes with a nod, it was quite the jump from place to place, but it was as they say what it was, and there’s an echoed response in confirmation of him being one of the newest riders from the last batch of weyrlings. M’ti didn’t know anything about Ruthien anymore than he did of him beyond the discussion they were having here and now, trying to forget the rumors he’d heard rather than inquire as to their accuracy. There were times in which the greenrider could be bold and daring, but he was feeling much as if he was walking on thin ice for some reason and any misstep would see to the smith dressing in full and disappearing into the night forever. Yeah, confidence in these matters, were not Matty’s strong suit. When Ruthien suddenly turns his head to look at him, the greenrider is picking idly at a crease of leather at the bend of his knee, but apparently feeling those bright blue eyes on him, his hazel lift to meet them. Faranth, that grin, it was going to be his undoing. A single blink later and M’ti is sitting up straighter as the smithy is on the approach, his gaze following him up to the point where he plops himself down practically in his lap and everything goes topsy turvy as he’s jostled. When everything levels out, he can feel how hot his cheeks were as a result of that smirk and now Ruthien’s proximity, as well as that flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Oh. Great. This guy was going to think he was a complete vapid moron, but Matty couldn’t stop himself from nodding a few times mutely as his question is answered. It was general and broad, but plenty to satisfy without the need to probe any deeper. Twice on downtime? “Yes, well…” the greenrider mutters, flushing again, getting fuzzy flashbacks to their previous activities. That low and throaty laughter was not helping dispel that imagery, making M’ti stiffen and cast his gaze elsewhere. Anywhere else really, as long as he didn’t have to be quashed beneath the sheer magnitude of his unexplained desire for this man he’d only just met. Although, this is short lived, quickly looking back and staring at him as if he’d been invited to an all you can eat buffet. At this point, the tips of Matty’s ears go pink as ‘bed partner’ is put out there so broadly, for it strongly suggested that their ‘situation’ was not to be a one off but the start of something somewhat regular, “Uh, I…” That there was only further proof that the greenrider was terrible at holding a conversation when he was flustered, simply rocked slightly away with that nudge to drift back to his original seated position. Beyond that, M’ti blinks, just once before he starts looking at Ruthien as if he had indeed sprouted additional heads. His eyes follow him in silence as he leans back and says again the very thing that had— for some reason— gotten him all freaked out the first time that they had met. He catches himself taking a nice long and lingering look of the smith’s naked torso, sucking in a breath swiftly past his lips and going full out redfruit on the poor guy before tearing his gaze off him and awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. That smile, should be outlawed. Seriously. It takes the greenrider a little bit before he says anything more, and maybe Keruthien gets the idea that he’s just trying to think of a polite way to let him down easy because if anything M’ti seemed the type to worry about feelings and such. “…I…” comes eventually with a knitting of his brows and while he can’t continue to speak while looking at him— eyes having secured themselves to the cheerful crackling of the fire, “…I uh…kinda don’t want you…to leave me alone…” There! He’d said it! Except, now the greenrider was fidgeting a bit and pointedly avoiding seeing the smith’s reaction to his response.

"Ha!" Ruthien's laugh is more of a short scoff-like bark, but it's all in good natured fun and not the least bit harsh or sarcastic. "I knew it! And that was totally worth pushing a bit to hear you say it." Wait, what? Did he just set a trap for the greenrider!? From the way he grins, all proud and smug, it's very likely. Nor has he missed how flustered he's become or the way those eyes of his have been taking in the sight of his still half-naked state. "Well," he muses further, voice dropping to something more of a hushed tone, while his grind fades to something more sultry. His eyes brighten even in the dim firelight, set as they are beneath a heavy lidded gaze. "Isn't it your lucky day?" Another one of those chuckles of his, followed by a breathy exhale to complete it. "I don't want to leave you alone, either." At some point, he'd begun to sit up but his movements are slow, graceful and as cautious as any predator hunting prey; don't move too quick, or you'll startle your target! Ruthien doesn't move in for the kill until he delivers that last line, having likely already slipped well into M'ti's personal space again. Then all it takes is a slight tilt of his head and one arm threading it's way across him to close the space between their bodies and it's no guess what will happen next. So long as M'ti doesn't panic and push him away or clock him one again (both are satisfactory deterrents, by the way!), Keruthien's aiming to brush his lips over his, first in a light and sensual kiss that holds promise of much more. He will tease with another, and then another, each slower, longer and more passionate than the last as he both teases and tests just how receptive he really is. There's no flight lust or hormones going around this time! Ruthien has had a little taste and clearly is hungry for more. It will be left to M'ti to decide just what this all means and whatever emotions are set along with it. For Ruthien, he is acting purely on his own selfishness and usual instinctual behaviors.

It’s that scoff-like sound that quickly brings Matty’s attention back to Keruthien, the expression on his face startled and perhaps mildly surprised as he is perhaps a smidgen miffed that all of that had some sort of trap to get him to admit things. At least, that what that smirky grin of the smith’s appeared to be telling him as readily as the words flying out of his mouth unfiltered from his brain. The abruptness of this revelation has very clearly thrown the greenrider off and the fluttering of his lashes in combination with his perplexed expression seems to indicate he was scrambling to get his footing back under himself in order to react in some way. Unfortunately for M’ti, there isn’t enough time in the world for him to wrap his head around the concept of Keruthien and his ways at present, especially since the man’s voice had lowered seductively and he was looking at him like he was the most tasty thing on the menu, mouth opening even as his brows furrow on the ‘luckiness’ of his day. It had been the greenrider’s intention to argue that point, probably feeling much like the rodent the feline had been toying with— and not liking it so much— but then there’s that breathy exhale and Matty’s all flustered again. Perhaps merely stunned into silence, he stares much like a small animal backed into a corner as the smith ever so slowly advances on him, “I…” Yep, this was becoming a habit, because that's as far as that thought goes as Keruthien tilts and leans in; the rest swallowed thickly a moment before those lips brush over his. This was followed by a quick sup of air taken in before the next kiss which earns the smithy a slight press of his lips in return, and then the third kiss and by the fourth the greenrider is leaning in and eagerly seeking the sort of long and passionate sort of exchange that can be had by lips and tongue, long slim fingers are brushed through long dark auburn hair slightly as he comes to cup the side of that too handsome face. M’ti had not a freaking clue what all this meant, only that he was immensely attracted to Ruthien and for now the attraction was mutual. Did he expect to ever see the man again after today? No, that understanding bringing about a somewhat sinking feeling of disappointment he didn’t quite get, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy what was being so readily offered now. He’d figure out the rest later, maybe. But, probably not.

More time marching….

Ruthien's mind is fracturing in the best of ways and his focus is on the lovely young man he's ensnared yet again. As his name is repeated again and again in some form of blissful mantra to his ears, Keruthien's eyes flutter closed. His head begins to tilt back, displaying the sharp line of jaw and curve of throat, the flush of red to his skin that extends now to his shoulders and chest. Oh — OH, he thought his name tumbling from those lips was heaven enough but that whimper on the cusp of it? That's what breaks him, in the end, and on the surge of that catalytic push he smoothly drives forwards, intent on capturing M'ti up in the moment along with him. His lips crash against his, hot and heavy, demanding and fierce, tongue slipping through even as his body begins to quiver and shudder, along with his muffled, shuttered, breaths. As forceful as it is, Ruthien will not stop any forward momentum and should they go toppling backwards onto the bed again from his actions, well… he'll ride it out, his hand only briefly leaving M'ti's to keep from crushing both of them under his weight. It's brief, likely barely registered that his touch stopped at all, before it resumes again and with vigor. Through it all, there comes that inevitable peak without any further warning than a grunted moan that is lost between a deepening kiss and the relentless probing of his tongue; there is barely time to suck in air, let alone properly voice. It's not like he needs to hear, as the evidence is clear enough and felt thoroughly. Eventually he cannot ignore the desperate cry for air from his lungs and he will pull back from that kiss, only to pant hotly by his neck, hair tumbled forwards in a mess of waves and partially obscuring his face.

Heavily lidded hazel eyes peer upwards as he watches Keruthian’s head fall back and his lashes flutter, allowing his gaze to wander of the sharp angles and smooth contours of his face to the slope of his neck, then further still to capture the full breadth of that breathtaking view. The smithy journeyman was a beautiful man, all the more so since his smug pretense seems to have fallen to the wayside in favor of the pleasure they were experiencing together. However, before M’ti can be too embarrassed about what comes out of his mouth and his tone in doing so, seconds after the wish for more contact is made: Keruthian kisses him. “Mhm!” comes with surprise but it melts away all too soon into a pleading sound for more, deliciously spiced with the greenrider’s sudden eager passion. Ruthien’s breathing, the sound of his voice, his touch, the very weight of him and feel of his skin. Ugh. It all becomes too much and before he can stop himself he tumbles over the edge. It's only then that he becomes all too aware of his head floating and that his lungs were screaming, gasping hard when Ruthian pulls his lips off of his, leaving M’ti to raggedly pant. Ashen lashes rise, and blearily he gazes the ceiling again above his head. Here he was again. This time however, something drives him to wrap his arms around the man laying atop him, losing his fingers in his auburn hair then along the flesh of Ruthian’s sweat glazed back. M’ti could feel the heat of the smithy’s breath, warmer than the air the fire was attempting to shift, and immediately it hits him that parting was the last thing he wanted to do. Oh, that there was dangerous thinking, and as he takes the time to catch his breath he’ll go right ahead to try and convince himself that Ruthian was not an addiction that his heart could afford.

There's a breathless laugh when M'ti wraps his arms around him and Keruthien sees nothing wrong with the gesture. If anything, it encourages him to further intimacy but at a gentler level and a whole mess of mixed signals! What will M'ti make of the nuzzling that follows and the lighter, gentler kiss as he shifts his weight and rolls onto his side? What of the caressing touch, of fingers smoothing back his hair or over skin like he hasn't yet had his fill or is taking one last pass for memory sake? Who knows and Ruthien's expression yields nothing aside from that same over blissed, very satisfied look as he props his head up against his hand, with his elbow bent and pressed into the bed. He keeps his body curled and very close to him, not seeming to care or mind that they'd made a mess of one another again. His eyes are heavily lidded, a content drowsiness ever-present and even seeping into his tone when he finally catches his breath. "Don't think I've ever had anyone who could do that just by saying my name before…" he murmurs huskily, a chuckle laced in for good measure as he just throws out the most blunt honesty EVER. "That was…" He sighs, wistfully. "I'm gonna remember that. As for you," There's a gentle press of a single index finger to his chest, right to the centre. Was he aiming for the heart? "You holding up okay?" Hey, he's not so shallow as not to be a little bit concerned for the greenrider! First timer and all. Ruthien knows his limits and that his appetite is nigh insatiable but usually his partners are experienced in some degree and know to cut him off. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, it's sinking in at last of what's just gone on here.

There it was again, the laughter. It makes M’ti feel strange and not necessarily in a good way. No one had ever really laughed at him since his first candidacy, but he rdid sort of understand that wasn’t what was happening right now. However, he couldn’t shake the negative connotations. Mixed signals? Definitely. The greenrider tenses slightly at the first few moments of that nuzzling, relaxing again just in time to make a soft— almost sweet— sound for that kiss. There’s a shiver, initially it’s caused by the loss of heat from the smithy’s body, and then the trace of fingers over his skin. The greenrider turns a rather innocent (considering what they’d just been up to) look onto Keruthien as that golden brown hair of his is stroked, once again perplexed but seemingly in a perpetual flushed state at the same time. Briefly, M’ti really takes in the looks of the man beside him and that only serves to worsen his lingering issues, as does Ruthien’s propensity to remain well in his personal space. The smithy was attractive, attentive, and warm; making the urge to snuggle in against him and slide into round three all too tempting. Or would it be round four? Ugh. All that wondrous gazing and the first thing to come out of Ruthien’s mouth makes sure that M'ti's blushing threatens a perpetual state, the husky way the smithy breathed his words out topped off with such a carefree chuckle? It was almost more than the greenrider could take. Ultimately he ends up staring at the man for a short while and then quickly looks away rather than bury in face in his hands or worse Ruthien’s shoulder, “Uh, i-is that right?” Oh no, M’ti didn’t sound a potent mix of embarrassed and awkward at all. No. It’s the finger pressed over his heart that slowly draws hazel eyes back towards the smith, the greenrider’s pressed together firmly as he fleetingly considered being just as brutally honest. “Hmm?” he says instead, “I’m okay…” . A single drum beat. “Are you okay?” Asked reflexively and visibly wincing as result. Of course Keruthien was okay, he looked like the feline that caught the rodent. Unable to be more red than he was, the greenrider's awkwardness starts to seep into his whole being notably, “Uh…” comes with a knotted brow, “Sorry, habit…” Yes, politeness! What a horrible habit to have! “I uh…I don’t…I mean…” and the stammering continues until looking quite frustrated, M’ti intentionally holds his lips together to keep him from further embarrassing himself, falling silent. Man, this sucked. “I should probably get going…” he tells the ceiling in time and not the irritatingly hot guy all pressed up against him and being oddly nice to him. Maybe if he put some distance between them Matty could think about something other than Keruthien’s mouth, his hands, his scent, his voice. With a notable shiver in remembrance, M’ti starts to push himself up to sit again. Yes, distance. Distance was good.

"Mhm." Keruthien confirms again with a chuckled breath and sigh. Classic exhausted but utterly sated, is he! And far more comfortable with this whole situation and outcome than M'ti. "S'fine, you know, to ask? You can relax… seriously. Not gonna chew you out for asking me something that I just did to you." he teases, mouth quirking into a more playful smirk. "And it's kind of nice." Just saying! With a low laugh, that smirk becomes more of a lazy half-smile. "I'm doing more that just okay, but I'm sure you figured that out." Then the ceiling is receiving the cue for things to wrap up and that only amuses him further. With a snickered breath and heavy sigh, Ruthien will relent and only after he has fully stretched out, cat-like, one last time. Oh, and not without a parting kiss to M'ti's lips. Distance? What distance? That won't happen until Ruthien breaks away and allows him to finish sitting up. The bed creaks, shifts and then he's back on his feet as well, moving slow and languidly, happy as a clam. "Y'want the basin first to clean up?" he asks, jutting a thumb over his shoulder to where he'd gone earlier to do that very task (and then undo it, NO REGRETS). Keruthien's got stuff to take care of in the meantime, mostly to find the rest of his clothes again and separate them from M'ti's. There's a lot to be done and not enough, but Ruthien doesn't seem the least bit ruffled or disappointed that this is coming to an end. Stifling another yawn, he'll wait until M'ti makes a decision about washing up and eventually makes use of the basin himself. Then it's just a matter of dressing, which takes no time and smoothing out the worst of his tangled, messy hair. "… offer is still open for breakfast, if you want." There's a cheeky grin, a bright glance sent the greenrider's way, though he seems to know the answer already. "But I get it, if you've got stuff you need to get to. No hard feelings?" Is he… is he offering his hand? Yes. Yes, he is and it's a complete trap and if M'ti takes it? It will be gripped, shaken once and then he's hauled forwards into a vice-like hug. "I won't forget this." Ruthien is TERRIBLE! Utterly terrible. That confession, whispered huskily by M'ti's ear and then he's letting him go, stepping back, away and putting DISTANCE between them with a bemused smile and two fingered salute from the temple. "See you around." It's not a question or a hopeful statement. He's COUNTING on it or alluding that this isn't the last time and then? Then he's out the door, whether or not M'ti is following or ever answered him on that breakfast offer. No, Keruthie's just gonna strut his way on out of the ground weyrs and damn whoever sees him because he DOESN'T GIVE AF about it! Let the rumors fly, he's got some Craft related duties to catch up on.

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