Logs:Family, Boyfriends, and Jealousy
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| RL Date: 6 June, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Drex helps Farideh move furniture around her new weyr. There's talk of family, sailors, and reputations. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: NSFW alert. Sexual themes, adult themes, language, etc. |
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| It's freezing, windy, and snowing outside, but inside the junior's weyr, Drex has his shirt off. And for once, it's not for sexytimes (something he's probably grumbled about at least once), but because he's, for the third (or is it second, or fourth time?) pushing that wardrobe across to the other side of the weyr. The fact that he was scarce yesterday while she had her pack of visitors was likely no coincidence, and this is probably also why he's only complained once about having just moved it from that exact location. With a last scrape of effort, the sailor straightens, leaning against the wardrobe, breathing hard, as he quirks a brow in Farideh's direction as if to see whether it's to her satisfaction. "You don't think--" Farideh bites her lip, stalling those words, as she stands back with her hands on her hips, eyeing the wardrobe that Drex has so valiantly moved this-and-that way; she remains unsatisfied, no matter its positioning. "If it was more--" Her hands lift, flattening, and using her imaginary, she shifts the blocky piece of furniture over. Still, she frowns, her hands falling back to her waist with a perturbed sigh. "I don't know. It takes up a lot of room and it doesn't even match anything." From the petulance in her voice, she might as well stomp her foot and flounce away, but she slants the sailor a look instead. "What do you think?" Drex's expression pretty clearly says what he's not quite game to say, that he's well and truly done with this moving shit around. But he's trying, and so he sucks in a breath before he says, "Aint gonna match anymore no matter where you put it. Might as well change weyrs." He's joking. JOKING. He straightens up from his lean against the wardrobe. "Won't even notice it once you have all your other... stuff." He's eyeing those trunks, in that assessive way a pirate might evaluate the contents of a recently acquired ship. "I notice it now. I didn't even want the dumb thing," Farideh says, glaring at the innocent wardrobe like it might have insulted her. "I suppose it can stay there, for now, until-- until the other things come and then--" Her focus shifts to Drex, and while her expression remains neutral, there's a definite flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I trust that the other pieces will match, or, I might just have to find someone who can sand and re-varnish them." One, last, baleful stare is given the wardrobe, and then she's moving over to one of the unpacked boxes, to pull out a couple glasses; she either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore his interest in her.. trunk. "Then get rid of it. I'll shove it off the ledge onto the snow," Drex says, all-too-readily, straightening like he might just do it right now. After a moment, though, he walks over and lounges, oh-so-casually on the trunk, conveniently flinging an arm behind him as he seats himself, chest pushed forward. "Who were all those people that came trooping into your place yesterday?" He can't quite keep the note of suspicion and jealousy out of his voice. "Aren't sailors supposed to know something about wares and things? Since you sail with them from port to port." Farideh doesn't look at Drex as she unwraps the glassware and sets it on the chair she's nearest. "That horrible piece of furniture would probably cost a laundress' full turn stipend and more. So, no, we won't be throwing it out into the snow-- just yet." She rolls her eyes and turns to look at him, to follow up on the state of the wardrobe, but his jealousy-fueled words give her brief pause. "You saw?" Drex gives an unhelpful shrug of his shoulders. "Know I'd never bother carrying it 'cos it's heavy as shit and aint worth the price of hauling it when smaller things could be carried. Aint a judge of taste, though. People buy all sorts of shit I'd rather toss in the ocean. Or the snow." But he concedes to her decision to keep it with, perhaps, a little grin of relief that he doesn't have to move the thing again. Another of those little shrugs, in an effort to appear casual. "Hard to miss the procession." "Where would you put your clothes if not inside a wardrobe?" Farideh demands, her balled up fists settling on her hips again. She turns fully around, to lean up against the edge of the chair and study Drex. "Were you watching my weyr? If you wanted to come in, you could have asked." Her tone implies suspicion, but without any more fuss, she answers his original question, "My parents and my uncle." "Aint no room for wardrobes on a ship. Aint no worry about them getting creased, either." Drex is grinning at the very thought. That grin fades soon enough, into something defensive and a little bit angry. "Aint gonna interrupt when you have fancy visitors." Her answer, it seems, doesn't elucidate much, given his face still remains scrunched up. He stands, and unceremoniously lifts the lid of the trunk, staring at the contents with a frown. "Your parents are awful rich for a laundresses' daughter." Talk of wardrobes on ships, or the lack of, is dismissed, as Farideh's attention centers upon the discussion about her visitors. "Why does it matter if my visitors are fancy or not?" She stiffens when he lifts the trunk's lid, but an indignant sound later, she's moving forward to snatch the lid closed again. "What is your problem?" "Just surprised is all," Drex says, perhaps not-very-convincingly, and when she snaps the lid closed on the trunk, he frowns some more, now directly at her. "Did you tell them about me?" The time for honesty is now? Without batting an eye, Farideh replies, "No. I did not." She would look guilty, except she's still busy looking aggravated by his interrogation. "Do you want me to? Do you want to meet them? You've never said that you did." "Never knew they were gonna come and visit you," Drex counters with. The fact that his jaw tightens as she admits she didn't tell them about him is visible, too. He folds his arms across his chest. "You ashamed of me?" Instead of answering the question, Farideh lifts her chin. "Did you tell your family about me? The other sailors on your ship? Lord Devaki?" Hm? "Aint got any family but Itsy. She knows. The other sailors with us here know. The sailors on the ship found out because I couldn't help but to tell them about this pretty girl who actually fucking liked me for some dumb reason." It's when her litany gets to mention of the Lord Holder that Drex actually stops, and rolls his eyes skyward. "He's Itsy's favored, not me. I'll tell him too though, if that makes you feel better." If he's aware he's now on the defensive and she hasn't answered his question, it doesn't show in the midst of his disgruntlement at her mention of Devaki. Surprise registers on her upturned face, a split second ahead of the self-conscious tucking of hair behind her ear, her eyes flitting off to the side. "You don't have to tell him." Farideh glances up then. "It's complicated," she starts, "I haven't seen them in nearly three turns before-- yesterday. And I wasn't expecting them to come, either. There are a lot of things I wanted to tell them and didn't get to, and I don't think saying, hey, mother, father, long time no see, by the way, my boyfriend's name is Drex and he sails on ships for a living, how are you?" She makes a face and crosses her arms over her chest, defensively. "You don't know them, besides. It would be--" She stops, while she's ahead-- or, not. Drex blows out a sharp breath, but he listens quietly while she explains. Something makes him grin abruptly, and forgetting that they're meant to be in the middle of an argument for a moment, he takes a step in towards her, bending down to press his lips against hers as his hands reach to cup her face. "What?" to his grin, her words ripe with suspicion. By now it shouldn't be a revelation that this is how they tend to quash disputes, but all the same the kiss takes Farideh by surprise. She takes a quick inhale of breath before his mouth is on hers, and she's responding in kind, with gentle insistence as her face tilts up. "Just, you know. First time I've heard you say it." Drex's grin only deepens, whether at her suspicion or her responsiveness, or both. His hands stay where they are, face held close to hers, as he murmurs, "Have to give you your Turnday present, you know. Unpacking can wait." That's what he always says, of course, as he seeks to back her slowly towards the bedroom. "First time to hear me say what? Boyfriend?" Farideh's lips twitch, and then spread into a self-pleased smile. "You like that better? I could call you other things. Sweets? Darling? Sugar bottom?" She's laughing by the end, taking staggered steps backwards when he starts to lead towards the bedroom. "What could it possibly be?" she muses aloud, winding her arms loosely around his waist, her fingers grazing exposed skin. There's a half growl, but it's full of laughter as Drex murmurs against her throat, "Bed tearer. Big dick. Those'd work just as well and help my sailor-ly reputation." Once she wraps her arms around his waist, he's half crouching to pick up her weight, taking a couple of quick steps that seems them more fall-than-drop onto the bed. A fresh spate of laughter follows his suggestions, her arms tightening around his waist and her cheeks flushing with color. "Would they? With whom? Do you often talk about how we have sex or the size of your--" Farideh's lips press together, but they're still curved into a smile, which stays until she's backed into the bed and then falling, onto it, with a muffled shriek of sound. Being in a bed is still a novel enough concept to one well-used to a hammock that Drex lies there a moment, fingers wiggling oh-so-casually under the edge of her shirt to seek the skin beneath. "Aint a lot to do on a ship if the weather's calm," he says, all-too-seriously. "Itsy listened the hardest, though." He's not that good at concealing his expression, and a little slip of a grin at the edge of his lips might betray that he's teasing her. "Oh," Farideh exhales. She struggles, and leans up on her elbows, turning inquisitive, bright eyes on him. "What did you tell them? And Itsy-- Itsy should focus on the girls she hasn't kissed yet," is an unsubtle reference to a certain brownriding weyrling they all know. His hand withdraws from beneath her shirt, but only so Drex can shift his weight with a hand on either side of her, leaning near her to mutter into her ear: "Just that you like closets a great deal." It's her reference to Itsy that has him withdrawing enough that he can catch sight of her expression. "Are you still trying to throw them together?" Farideh's makes a face, her nose scrunched up, and pushes at his shoulder. "You don't have to say it like that," she complains, but gets over it quickly. "I haven't done anything else save for the one time. Have you seen them in a room together? You wouldn't know Itsy's the captain of a ship and Laine's a rider. They won't look at each other, can barely put together sentences. It's sad," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "If they want to act like idiots around each other, that's their problem." "Like what?" Drex, with the attempt at innocence, grinning a moment later. A grunt acknowledges that, after a moment, and a sudden grin, too. "You might have a point. I remember you acted like an idiot around me when we first met, too." It might not be the most romantic thing to say while he starts to try and unbutton her shirt, either, but he's going with it. "Not like some silly girl who you whiled time away with in some giant cave somewhere," Farideh retorts, tracing her fingers lightly over his shoulders. "It sounds much better if you paint me as a sultry seductress who drove you ma-- what?" She frowns up at him, her hands falling over his, to still his unbuttoning, for the moment. "I did not. If I remember correct, I asked you to kiss me first, and what did you do?" is imbued with humor. "You do drive me mad," Drex replies with a laugh as she traces fingers over his shoulders. He makes a noise of muted frustration as her hands still his, though he's snorting at her recollection of events. "You didn't even give me a chance to respond. You blindsided me and then ran away." At least, that's how he remembers it. "Aint ever had a pretty girl try and seduce me with her wiles before, is all," he adds, a shade embarrassed. Much too sweetly for it to be innocent, Farideh tosses back, with a coquettish smile, "And how many pretty girls have you tried to seduce?" She hasn't let go of his hands yet, though her grip has continuously loosened. Drex appears to consider the question for a moment, like he needs to count in his head, before he tilts head to better watch her expression as he answers, "Hm. Well, there was this one, the day of a hatching, but then she ran away in the midst and left me hanging. And this other one that told me I couldn't do anything for weeks because of a dragon. She was a bit of a tease." "You're unbearable," Farideh says, tossing her head back and forth. "I should push you off the ledge into the snow." It's not a grumble, but somewhat sullen and humored at the same time. Her hands relinquish his, only to slide up his arms and over his shoulders. "The only person here who's a tease is you. You promise me this great turnday present and here we are, talking about Itsy and stories." "So be quiet and I'll give it to you," Drex counters, playfully. Now that her hands have moved, he resumes unbuttoning her shirt, and her pants, too, trailing kisses from her stomach downwards. It does seem he's going to make good on his promise, showing off this new thing he heard some of the other sailors joking about using to get a woman to do just about anything afterwards. And if it's a bit of trial and error on the sailor's part until he finds just the right spot, well... he doesn't seem to mind the practicing. Only sort-of-obediently, with laughter still lingering in the corners of her mouth, Farideh presses her lips together at his command, but it's harder in practice to be quiet. It's certainly an appreciated trick that he picked up out at sea, one that gets the praise it deserves; her hands fist in the sheets, her back arching in response. Really great trick! And when Drex's hit just the right spot, and she's had (barely enough) time to collect her breath back, she's tugging at his waistband. Anything in this case just happens to be pushing him back against the bed and climbing on top, because nothing says I appreciate you like girl-on-top. Drex is, frankly, probably quite surprised by just how well it all worked, though this doesn't mean he's not, well, more than responsive to her persistence. He shoves his pants down, hands reaching up for her hips to steady her, gaze a tad bemused but certainly not objecting, not by far. "Fari!" is all he calls out as she positions herself on top. "Mm?" is not a question, more of a sound in response to her name; a momentary lapse in concentration, her fingers brushing his on their way up from thigh to ribcage. Farideh is effortlessly situated in Drex's lap and starts moving in a purposefully slow rhythm, working up to a more ardent pace that will hopefully lead them both to that delightful place of dual satisfaction. It doesn't take that long, what with Farideh's determination and Drex's hands guiding her motion. It doesn't take that long, either, for Drex to fall into snoring slumber, though he does at least think to pull furs over the pair of them before he does, curving an arm over her. |
Comments
Alida (06:03, 6 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
Ahhh...youth. ^^ Wait... Alida's only 27. Still young enough. *laughs*
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