Logs:No Names
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| RL Date: 7 April, 2015 |
| Who: R'oan, Tess |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'oan doesn't need a mindhealer. Tess is virginal and pure as winter's snow. Mmmhm. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, route to the Glass Fountain and R'oan's weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions, Leova/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sex. Back-dated to be when R'oan returned to Fort/before Tess was loaned to HRW. |
| It isn't unusual for Fort's dragonhealers to want to examine Etrevth and his injuries, especially given that it happened and healed elsewhere. This is what has dragged R'oan back to yet another infirmary, though the exam goes quickly, especially when it is clear that Leova's work has healed perfectly. There's no handshake between dragonrider and dragonhealer, only a quick, quiet word before the dragonhealer turns on a heel and strides away even as Etrevth stirs to stand. "So, what's the story?" Tess' inquiry is curious as she moves to fall into step beside the tall rider. She tilts her head and glances up at him side-long through her lashes, with just enough curl at her lips to invite answer. She's been there a while, he might even have noticed her when he came in, helping to sort supplies and roll bandages. Grunt work, but if she's here doing that, there's a good chance she's interested in whatever happened with his lifemate. R'oan's gaze casts sideways over the journeyman as she approaches, the bare quirk of a brow upwards for her question that isn't quite an answer. It isn't until Etrevth ahead of them hits the clear skies of the bowl outside and launches himself happily into the skies that his rider does answer, "He injured his wing during a flight." Notably he, rather than throwing around blame at the moment. "Oh?" Invites, no asks for more details. Tess' eyes follow the dragon as he launches. "Seems not to trouble him now. Or is that only seems?" She questions the rider with some of that same curiosity. "It's all healed up now. He's almost as good as new," is R'oan's drawled answer in turn, his own fingers lifting to shield against the sun as he watches his dragon abandon him to the ground to enjoy the freedom of the skies. But his attention slides back to Tess soon enough, before he adds with dry humor, "You're welcome to ask him about it, though." Did R'oan expect his dry humor to be met with a wider smile, though still closed lips and the simple, "Would you translate?" that barely hides enthusiasm for the opportunity. "If you buy me a drink," R'oan counters with a crooked smile of his own, for all that grey-green eyes slide slowly, appreciatively over Tess at her enthusiasm. "Deal," is the answer. It's an easy enough price to pay. "Nothing top shelf, she adds with a smirk. "I don't get paid enough for that." R'oan's brow curves upwards at the added limitation, though he only drawls a light, "I think you're underestimating what translator fee. But I'm sure we can come up with a nice compromise." At that, even, his fingers fall to just barely brush against her hip, a guiding pressure as he turns towards the direction of the Fountain without even looking for the dragon wheeling happily in the skies. Tess doesn't seem to mind the guiding hand, going willingly along with the brownrider. "Want to tell me your name? Or his?" She asks, "Or is that going to cost me too?" There's a teasing lilt to the question and she casts him an almost challenging look. "You get one for free. Which one?" is what R'oan offers back, so kindly, as his lips curve into that crooked grin. "Mm," is a sound of piqued interest and contemplation. When Tess glances away from the path ahead to look up at the rider, her look is more than amused, it's pleased, as if she's excited to find someone as willing to play a game with her as she is to play one. "His," is decisive. There is interest there in her decision, as R'oan's brow quirks. But as promised, he drawls out the answer of, "Etrevth." He pairs it with the flash of a smile, though. "And what is Etrevth like?" Tess has to try. She'd be stupid not to. Don't ask, don't get. And certainly not for free. "You aren't the first to ask that," is the answer she earns from R'oan, a hint of amusement there for the question. "But I think the answer is out of your price range, especially if you can't afford top shelf." "Well," Tess pretends to consider with a blow of a breath out through her lips, "I suppose with such intimate and top notch information, I could spring for something nicer. What will it cost me?" She lifts a single brow in amused interest at the older man. "Two shots," R'oan starts with a slow smile, though the flick of his finger between them clarifies as he continues, "Each." It is almost perfect timing, too, as they come upon the stairs down to the Glass Fountain and he makes a gesture to allow her to descend ahead of him. "Each?" Tess asks with an amused purse of her lips. "I don't know if it's worth that much to me." She tells him over her shoulder as she steps onto the stairs, almost immediately stumbling and sliding, one hand flinging back to grip at-- well, his shirt is handy, or his arm. She'll take whatever she can get to keep herself from slipping farther than just to the next step. That hand finds his shirt, likely, given that it's a larger target and easier to catch than the rest of him. There might even be the sound of the tearing of a seam somewhere, but then R'oan's hands do catch her, one again curling against her hip as an anchor even as he catches her wrist with his other. "Are you already drunk?" is what he'll tease, first. Tess is not the type of girl to often blush, but this moment of clumsiness warrants it, and so she does, but that doesn't stop her from rolling her eyes at him, "No, just not paying as much attention to the stairs as I ought." Her tone suggests that he's at least partly to blame for her folly. Perhaps she's buttering him up to get cheaper prices on the information she seeks. "Thank you," is genuine, for catching her. It's only then that she seeks to continue down the stairs, which may take him out of the curl of his arm if he doesn't keep up. "Then you do need those shots," R'oan informs her easily, a laugh spilling out there in his words. He doesn't hurry after her, even though it means his fingers slide away from her hip, but he does follow her. "Oh, are the shots for me? I drink and I get an answer, is that it?" Tess asks, this time not looking back at him though the slight turn of her head suggests she'd like to, if she didn't not trust her footing without the attention of her eyes. "Are you looking to get me drunk so you have another opportunity to play hero?" Curious and teasing. "I'm not interested in playing hero," is drawled from R'oan, a quirk of his lips warming the words with humor as he watches easily, even where she can't do the same in turn. "But maybe I just dislike drinking alone." "What are you interested in playing?" Tess queries back, pausing on the stair so she can shoot him a look, "And don't tell me this one is going to cost me because I know you want to tell me," she assumes anyway and she'll apparently only pay for information he's not keen on revealing. Then her steps begin again. "With you? Something more private," R'oan answers shamelessly, meeting that look with a slow, crooked smile and an easy confidence. "Mm," Tess considers, "I do like private." Then she stops, turning and stepping back up intending to catch him with only one foot on his next step down so she can place one foot beside his and step up so her other lands next to his, placing them body to body if not touching. "But I'll have you know I'm an innocent flower yet to be plucked." She flutters her lashes and the way she says the words suggests it's a bold-faced lie she's not bothering to hide. "Are you trying to cast me in the role of a dastardly rogue who doesn't care?" challenges R'oan lowly to that, even as he lifts a hand to trail a knuckle so very lightly against her jaw. His next words get added in a murmur, the same whiskey-warm humor flowing through them as he tells her, truthful to her lies, "Because I don't care." "No," Tess answers with a smirk that's still so much smile, "I'm telling you that that's how it has to stay. As far as the rest of the world is concerned. Private." She repeats the word with a pop of the 'p' in an effort to draw his attention to her lips. That smile that curves so naturally at his own lips reappears, and she gets what she wants in one regard, at least, as R'oan's gaze draws down to her lips. The other never gets an answer, not as he leans forward to capture those lips, even as his fingers once again claim her hip to drag her against him. She kisses him in a way that no virgin ever would (or likely could). It's almost as if she's imparting secrets through that kiss - a hidden nature infused with the natural confidence with which she carries herself through the rest of her life. And then, so very soon, Tess is aiming to lean back and give him an amused look. She's waiting for an answer. "Darling, if you think I am going to go around bragging about getting you into bed, maybe we should stick to the drinks," is said in a way that could be taken as an insult, or a simple statement of facts, but that is all the answer that the journeywoman gets from R'oan as he meets that amused look with a humored one of his own. "Some men are the type, and you're a stranger; how am I to know?" Tess returns innocently, though with an undercurrent that says she's pleased by his response. "Do you suppose my buying a bottle of something mid-to-top shelf is enough to get me a ride back to your place where we can share it away from prying eyes?" A laugh catches in R'oan's throat, though he only replies lightly with, "I will even wait here obediently for your return. A bottle ends, though, and you won't get endless questions, either." The last is offered with amused warning, a brow lifting in a challenge at Tess as if the brownrider might expect that was part of her plan. "Fair enough," Tess doesn't seem put out to agree. "I only need so many anyway, as long as they're the right ones." Her smile is cocky for her ability to question appropriately, but it's brief because her attention turns to the stairs so she can step quickly down the rest and return a short time later with a bottle in hand, prepared for him to lead the way. That he will do. It isn't as far a walk back as it was here, especially since Etrevth deigns to descend from the sky to pick them up once they've gotten to the Bowl. It seems that R'oan will assume she's already ridden a dragon, since he moves to climb up first, despite the lack of straps, before he leans down to offer Tess a hand up the brown. (Who is thankfully on the small size.) It seems Tess has ridden before, though she seems a bit uncertain about the lack of straps, so she does need R'oan's assistance and it's an inelegant mount at best. Thankfully dragons are big and her boots don't have sharp heels, so she probably didn't hurt the dragon in mounting. The lack of straps means she's leaning back into R'oan for the flight, her hands tight (but not painfully so) against his arm, and no doubt with that kind of closeness, he can feel the way her heart races in her ribs. Etrevth certainly doesn't seem to mind Tess's weight, waiting until she has been secured in the wrap of R'oan's arms before he launches himself up in the air again. The wings that have recently healed snap out a little too fast, too sharp against the currents, to catch them to rise even further up the wall of the Bowl. And despite how long he's been a rider and available weyrs that have come and go, R'oan and Etrevth's ledge is an isolated thing, hardly big enough for the brown, way up the wall and far away from it's nearest neighbor. This is where he settles to let them down, the rider sliding down first before turning to help Tess. Tess' dismount is hardly any more elegant, but she doesn't look inclined to be sick, and she does manage to keep hold of the bottle and not let it break. It's with interest that she moves toward the edge of the ledge (dangerously close? Yes, dangerously) and looks over down into the bowl for a moment before taking a step back and turning. "So, I need you to answer me one question before I break the seal on this bottle. And truthfully, of course." "Before you break the seal?" R'oan questions with a challenging lift of his brow, his gaze sliding over the woman on his ledge. She even earns Etrevth's attention, the dragon finally paying attention to his passenger. "I don't think that was part of any bargain we talked about." He doesn't make a move towards the entrance to the weyr, not with her question waiting, but the glimpse of it beyond seems as simple as the ledge outside. It is only one room, the curve of the wallow to the door, so that anyone walking in will have to adjust for it before they make it to the flattened ledge of the dragonrider's portion of the weyr. And that only contains a bed and a locked trunk, though blankets certainly seem comfortably piled onto the former. "I'll give you something reasonable in return if you like. Perhaps another kiss, or an answer of your own," Tess shrugs her shoulders as though the recompense is easily settled. "Would you call yourself sound of mind?" It should be an easy question to answer, shouldn't it? In the moment that follows, she's moving back toward the brown to offer him, "Thank you for the ride, Etrevth." She offers out a hand in case he's the sort of dragon that appreciates a scratch. That is certainly quite the question to hit a man with, and R'oan watches Tess for a long moment even as Etrevth leans into that scratch. But then the brown is taking to the skies once again to enjoy his freedom, leaving the two of them alone on that ledge only for his rider to answer in a drawl, "More than most, probably not as much as others. Who is ever really sound? We all have something." Tess watches Etrevth go, open admiration in her look - it's the look of one who hasn't yet been around so many dragons as to make the grace of their flight commonplace. She turns back toward the blonde man and lifts her brows, "That's a rather complicated answer. You wouldn't ever be seeking a mindhealer to become more sound of mind, would you?" "That is two questions," R'oan points out dryly, his gaze on her unwavering though it is weighted in a way that seems to communicate that he's counting. "Only because your first answer didn't make it clear, and I can hardly be blamed for that." Tess tells him flippantly as she crosses the space between them and places a hand against his stomach, tilting her chin up toward him. Perhaps this is meant to encourage him to answer so they can get to more pleasant things. "No," might be agreement to whether she can be blamed or to the last question, but this R'oan doesn't make clear as he reaches for that hand against him. His fingers lightly circle her wrist, but there's something in the way he draws her hand up to his lips while watching her that doesn't expect to need to use much force there. Nor does he. Tess lets her hand be drawn up to his lips and she'll even let him keep it a moment before she's seeking to slip it free to waggle a finger at him. "Now, now, darling, let's do be clear." Even so, she's offering the bottle up to him, perhaps to let him do the honors, or maybe it's meant to be an exchange for an answer. "No?" She checks. The brush of lips over her fingers is all that happens, then, before they're drawn away. But R'oan seems just as content to exchange them for alcohol than anything else, reaching for that bottle and cracking open the seal even as he clarifies, "No, I don't need any mindhealer." "Perfect," Tess enthuses as she seeks to hook the fingers of both hands behind his belt. "Now, take me inside?" It's half-request, half-direction. "And tell me about your dragon," she makes it sound a lot dirtier than she probably means it. But where would be the fun if she didn't? It is clear that R'oan knows his weyr well enough that he can walk backwards into it (or drunk or blind), which he does after taking a quick drink, even as his spare arm wraps around the younger woman. He murmurs a warning of "Watch your step" once inside the bubbled cavern, adjusting to the wallow himself with ease. It isn't until they are near the bed that he leans in for another kiss, though it's a light, teasing thing before he offers the bottle back to her. With being pressed so close to him, it's rather like being led in a dance. This is something that Tess must have had some training in, even if it's unlikely that that training included being pressed nearly hip to hip with her partner. With his lead, she follow him with a measure of practiced grace, though she fumbles a bit when she lets her focus slide to take in the wallow and the small space remaining. She frees her fingers from his belt to let them slide around the back of his neck at the kiss, light and teasing though it is. It leaves her obviously wanting more, but she takes that with better grace than her entry, taking the bottle and turning to sit on the edge of his bed to drink. She's unashamedly looking around his weyr with interest. "Are you close with your dragon? I've heard some pairs are more than others." And his dragon's wallow is so close, so it might be a reasonable assumption. "We're close," confirms R'oan in a drawl, his own gaze sliding only briefly to that wallow before returning to Tess. As she sits, though, he leans forward to catch at the hem of her skirt, thumb pressing against her knee until he can settle between her legs against his own bed. Tess is accommodating, responding to the pressure against her knee and leaning back on the hand not holding the bottle. She offers it to him. "You still haven't told me about Etrevth," in case he hadn't noticed. She has! Still her smile is sort of lazy. She'd probably let him get away with it a while longer. R'oan tilts that bottle generously into his mouth, but then he sets it aside rather than keeping hold of it. So that he can lean forward to capture Tess's lips again, though now they're warmed with alcohol. Again it doesn't last long, not where his fingers lift to catch in her blonde hair and he murmurs as a kiss trails over her jaw and against her neck, "He's fun, careless. Doesn't take himself too seriously. A flirt." Tess is helpful. As R'oan's hands slip into her hair, she reaches back to pull the pins holding in place the messy bun, letting her blonde locks free to be explored as he likes. Her kiss is bolder this time, teasing in her own way, but matching his brevity. It might, perhaps, be the kind of thing that indicates a willingness to tempt him as much as he's tempting her. Perhaps, even, it's a challenge to see if one of them can hold out against the temptation (or who can do so longer). "Are you alike?" is her next question as her hands slide into his hair and short nails drag down the back of his skull and along his neck to where her hands settle on his shoulders and fingers press into muscle there in more massage than caress. "In many ways," R'oan murmurs against her ear, dragging teeth against her earlobe there only after he's answered. But then he's leaning his weight against her, as if to press her further against his bed while his free hand finds the hem of that light skirt again but this time his fingers don't stop at her knee. Instead, they slide the fabric upwards slowly, almost challengingly. "We're well matched." Tess resists, but only so long as it takes her to shrug out of the light layer of gauzy fabric over the dress. Then it's back onto her elbows she goes. Once she's there, however, a foot lifts to place booted toe lightly against his shoulder. It's an answer to the challenge, of sorts, her smile mischievous, "Mind helping me with my boots?" If he assents, she'll ask, "Is this the first time he's injured himself?" It might be just idle curiosity, or maybe she's making the most of that bottle lasting. "No," R'oan answers so simply, not elaborating there. Though he does assist with that boot, untying those laces with quick, skilled fingers and then yanking it off. He lets it drop carelessly aside, before leaning forward to steal another kiss before the inevitable next boot. One cannot steal what is freely given. Tess leans up to meet him. He did, after all, help with her boot. He earned it. She does give a fluttery sigh of disappointment. "Are you going to leave a woman so wanting, rider?" Surely she doesn't mean physically since that game is on-going. 'No' is hardly a sufficient answer to sate the healer's curiosity. R'oan only laughs, a warm, breath of a thing that infuses his dismissive answer of, "It depends on what a woman wants." But he starts to draw back, to put some space there only to drag his shirt over his head and toss it aside. "They get hurt often. Especially in flights. Or just strain. It happens. Nothing as significant as this last one before." "Will you tell me what it feels like? When he gets hurt?" Tess queries, sitting up and inviting herself to place hands on his chest, tracing across his chest lightly. "I promise to distract you if it's the sort of thing that's unpleasant to tell about." "In flights, I feel what he feels. Usually he doesn't even feel the pain until later, not with sex and other things on his mind," is drawled out in response, his fingers curving back into her hair. He twists one lock around his knuckles, thumb dragging against the silken texture thoughtfully as he studies her. "Outside of it-- Sometimes a shadow of pain, but mostly I worry for him." Tess's eyes are engaged. She's watching him as he studies her, the thrill of new information plain enough. She must be one of those brainy chicks that gets turned on by learning. Her hands explore his chest, lacking in any hesitation. She's obviously enjoying herself between the questions and the good-looking man between her legs. Nevermind the difference in their ages. It seems like that mightn't matter to her in the least. She invites herself, too, to a taste of his neck, not in any way that would lend any credence to her virginal story that is plainly just that. It's against his throat that she asks, "Do you feel like you know him better now than say, three turns after you Impressed? Five? Or is it like some say where you feel like you've known him forever?" "I have known him his whole life," is what R'oan points out to Tess, only a slight curve of his brow for her questions that will likely go unnoticed. It's only as she starts kissing his neck that he moves to gather her into his arms, only so far as to throw her back onto the bed more fully with every intent of joining her. "And most of mine. He's changed over the years, but doesn't everyone?" Tess' knees press to his hips as she realizes his intent, to aid in the cause of being thrown back onto the bed, releasing her muscles at the right moment to not hinder his endeavor to join her without the mess of tumbling together. "Everyone does," the blonde allows, reaching up to trace fingers across the man's face, as though learning it so she could still know him she were suddenly stripped of her sight. Then she leans up to kiss him. This time, if he'll play along, the kiss isn't going to be any quickly done and near-forgotten thing, but something lingering and deep. When it breaks, she asks softly, "Did he change you? When you met?" It isn't so much playing, the way that R'oan meets that kiss with his own demands and needs, lips sliding expertly against hers. But that question earns a dry laugh from the brownrider, drawing back just enough to level a look over Tess as he answers dryly, "Change me? I was thirteen. I barely knew who I was." "Thirteen," is an exhalation of genuine surprise, eyes widening as she looks up at him. But just surprise, not anything else. "How old are you now?" Tess asks as her hand shifts back down to his chest. Perhaps it's coincidental that she compliments just then, "I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you how amazing your body is." His ego probably needs a stroke if he's about to reveal his age. "I thought you wanted to know about my dragon," R'oan counters easily, though he doesn't seem bothered by also adding in answer, "He is over twenty-six." His own hand lifts to trace fingers against her shoulder in a light caress, catching at one strap of that sundress and slipping it off slowly as he speaks. "Frame of reference," Tess tells him lifting a finger to touch his nose as though he were adorable and she grins at him. "Did you know what you were getting into then?" She wonders, looking up at him with a sort of innocence that has nothing to do with her experience in the bedroom arena. Her fingers aren't bored as they find new ways and combinations of touches to bring to his skin, watching his face for anything that seems particularly enjoyable to him. "No. I was too young to even understand what it would mean," R'oan answers in a dismissive murmur, though the only reflection that she'll see for now is a distaste brought on by her questions or these thoughts, before he is pressing back into her with more intent than before. His kiss has something of a demand to it when he does capture her lips, even as his fingers wrap around the next strap of her sundress to drag it even lower. Tess almost certainly wants to ask more questions, but unlike other healers who poke and prod relentlessly and insensitively, this one seems to know when to back off. That's now. Now is for enthusiastically returning his kiss, for encouraging his demands with a return of her own. Maybe he feared that she was really only here to ask her questions and go. But no, it seems that Tess is as committed to the fun they're going to have as the brownrider. She lifts her hips to press closer to his, her legs wrapping. The only question she seems to have when the next kiss breaks is, "Do you have anywhere you have to be before morning?" "Not where they'll miss me," promises R'oan in a warm breath of a laugh, true or not. Surely there are duties and other things to be caught up on, given his return to Fort, but--. But it will be so much better if they can take their time, and Tess is hardly a stickler for rules, so if R'oan has somewhere to be, he'll get no urging from her to stray too far. In point of fact, it might be a miracle if R'oan is awake enough to be even the slightest bit useful the following day because Tess is young and energetic and after the first time, there's an emphatic, "Shells, but I needed that. It's been far too long." And then with a cheeky smile, "Again?" And again. And so on until she's thoroughly worn him out (along with herself). It leaves them in an exhausted tangle of limbs to sleep until their stomachs wake them, before dawn. Booze does not a meal make. When they do wake up, it's to a much darker weyr than the one that they went to sleep to. At some point in the night, even Etrevth had to give up the sky and return home, curled up in a sound sleep in his wallow that blocks out the starlight that spills onto the ledge just outside, that would dimly light the rest of the weyr if it weren't for him. In the dark, the first thing that R'oan reaches for upon waking isn't Tess, despite her warm presence in his bed, but he fumbles for the last place they put that bottle, uncorking it to take a big swig of the remaining liquid first. They were having enough fun that Tess didn't drink much, and really only when her energy was lagging. She twists against him, moving so she can drag her lips and teeth lazily and lightly along his shoulder as he drinks. "Mmm," is her sleepy noise of contentment. Then, "I'm hungry." That bottle is abandoned as Tess stirs, especially where lips and teeth meet bare skin. It lands with a quiet thud, not as gentle as it could have been, before R'oan curves back to Tess only to wrap an arm around her, fingers finding the softness of her breast there before he offers to her, "Etrevth's exhausted and sleeping. Think we can make do until he wakes up?" Tess laughs lightly, softly, as if worried she'll wake the dragon. "I suppose," she agrees with an affectionate smile for the older man, "So long as you can sufficiently distract me from my stomach." It's a challenge. But the challenge, it seems, is not just for his experienced touches, but for more him as well, the inner him. "Do you like being a rider?" She asks it as she shifts to roll onto her back to give him greater access to her bare form. The question does not get answered immediately, though the brownrider rolls onto his own side, propping himself up on one elbow. But as his free hand finds her stomach in the dark, stretching fingers over the flat expanse, he does answer a simple, "No. But I doubt I'd like being a Holder either." In the relative dark of the weyr, perhaps it's hard to see the way Tess feels for him. It's sympathy, not pity, and the way she leans up quickly, those muscles flexing under his hand, to engage his lips in a slow, distracting kiss is probably meant to draw his attention away. When she lays back, she has a bemused smile. "I've decided I like you," isn't a question, so perhaps that much is good, even if the statement is a bit odd. That kiss is returned with a certain careless affection of his own, R'oan's fingers sliding up to brush against the curve of her ribs instead in a caress even as she lays back down. It's with amusement that he questions that statement with, "Because I don't like being a dragonrider?" "No," Tess answers with some his own simplicity, her lips pressing together in some measure of amusement at using his tacit move against him. "Do you think you might've liked being a crafter?" She wonders as one hand finds his bicep and her fingers begin to trace lazy spirals and patterns there. That earns a low laugh in the dark, the brownrider shifting to press a kiss against the hollow of her collar before murmuring, "Maybe. Not any of the ranks or classes, likely. But making something with my hands-- Maybe." But he draws away, his fingers resuming the slow exploration of her ribs before brushing against the underside of her breast with a purpose as if to demonstrate his statement. "I suppose you could always go off to Ista or somewhere and make your handy services available to anyone with the marks, or have you some moral hang-up for that kind of thing, or standards?" The way Tess asks is teasing, not meant to be a slight on his character. After all, they're practically strangers! ... In every way but one. R'oan's lips curve, unseen, in the dark but perhaps heard when he answers dismissively, "Because my Weyrwoman would cut off my balls; she's made that clear. And the Weyr already gives me everything I need." A pause, before he adds quietly, "There's no undoing what's already been done." "Oh, yes? Does your Weyrwoman have a special interest in your balls?" There's no trace of jealousy, only interested curiosity. She has a slight sigh which shifts her breast beneath his hand, "No. Some choices in life there is no un-choosing." Quietly, "What is it about riding you don't like? What advice would you give me if I wanted to Stand someday?" "I don't kiss and tell," R'oan teases in response to that question, warm amusement there as he drags his thumb slowly over her breast. Any amusement is gone at her next questions, though, and his hand stills before he answers, "Don't. That's my advice." Tess shifts a little under him, perhaps seeking a more comfortable position or deftly guiding his thumb to where she fancies it best. "Hmmm," is a low note of consideration. "Maybe we ought to leave this as one fabulous fuck after all. Rolling around with one of the Weyrwoman's... well," she shrugs her shoulders. not apparently intending to finish the sentence. "Is it Etrevth?" She can't seem to help asking in nearly a whisper. Whichever it is, R'oan's hand lifts away from her to instead capture her wrist, stretching her arm over her head to pin it there against his mattress as he murmurs a low response of, "You're welcome to walk away whenever you want. If that's what you want." It's followed by the capture of her lips in a slow, demanding kiss, though. Only after does he answer, "No, not him." Tess laughs into the kiss, but only for the first moments, then kissing is, of course Srs Bsns. She seems pleased, in this moment, to yield to his demands, shifting her body a bit so she can hook an ankle around his leg and pull, inviting him to a more body-to-body position while they make her effort to stop laughing worthwhile with the kissing. "Well," she feigns dubiousness, "I suppose I can stay a little while, anyway. What with being high up in your weyr, and no means to get down to the bowl myself. Not to mention how exceptionally pleasant it is right here, right now. And of course, I'm completely helpless to your whims--" She might go on teasing, only kissing seems a better use of her lips in that moment as she seeks his out. "Helpless, innocent, unplucked," is what R'oan murmurs in turn, the words drawn out between kisses even as he so obligingly shifts on top of her without releasing her wrist. His desire is much more obvious now than before, a new day bringing new energy. And with the younger woman at his whims, well, he won't be the one to turn the conversation back to why she shouldn't Stand. "Exactly," Tess encourages as she seeks to nibble at his ear and kiss her way down his neck. She can talk the talk, but she cannot walk the walk. Not here, now, in the dark, with no one to take stories back to her parents. "Weyrs are much more convenient than having to find dark corners and be pressed for time," she comments thoughtfully as she tilts her head back in a way that invites his lips to her -- well, throat, breast, gentleman's pick! The conversational tone isn't meant as deterrent from progress in the direction of sating desires, though certainly she's warning, "I'm a bit sore," so he can-- well, either be delicate or not. "Maybe you should tell me more about why I shouldn't Stand. If I ever thought to. Others seem to have a higher regard for it. You know, if I ever have the chance since it seems likely you might keep me here as your love slave." She teases, peeking at his face wherever he's gone with it by then. Her throat, for now, is where R'oan goes with it, lips and tongue lightly tracing her pulrse there even at her warning. It is once she presses the conversation back to where it was before that he draws back, probably not at her teasing but soon enough after. "Because it's all some bullshit ideal. Fake camaraderie and heroism, and you end up stuck around with a bunch of assholes and jerks patting themselves on their backs for nothing," he answers flatly, his hand dropping away from her wrist. "If you want that, then go. Go Stand. I don't fucking care." Except that it's obvious he does, since he's already distancing himself from Tess in every physical way, shifting away from her to retrieve that bottle again. "Stop, --" This is where Tess would use his name. Only she still doesn't know it, and she looks disgruntled as she follows him. She moves to slide one leg to either side of his body, and wrap her arms around his torso from behind, her cheek pressing to his back. "I'm sorry," she apologizes softly. "I didn't mean to push you. That's not why I'm here." She turns her head to press a kiss to his spine. She's trying to coax him back, back from the frustration that sent him for the bottle. That kiss, the coxing is met with little reaction other than the brownrider taking another quick sip from the bottle, though R'oan doesn't move away from her as she wraps her arms around him. Instead, he finally responds with a low murmur of, "It's almost dawn. I'll wake Etrevth and have him take you down." A pause, before he points out, "You don't want the Weyr to wake up and see you leaving." The blonde is still a moment against his back. Then she shifts to sit beside him. "As you like," is offered with little enough resistance, though no measure of pleasure is in her voice. "But since I'm going," she muses letting the last word trail as she gracefully and so quickly slides onto the floor and twists as she does, to try to place herself between his legs. "Can I just taste you one more time?" She looks up at him with an innocent expression, one that's convincing even. Her hands perch on his knees, but she's not pushing it on him now. It's really his choice. His body reacts quicker than R'oan does, tension in even the muscles of his thighs and a stiffness that is unignorable, but surprise does register in a flicker of his gaze over her. Then he's reaching to bury fingers into that blonde hair, no audible answer except for the way he uses the curl of his fingertips against her skull to guide her mouth where he wants it. Once again, Tess plays the part of pliant maiden, though here with likely more success than her attempt moments before on the bed, given that her mouth is too busy to ask potentially liaison-ending questions. She doesn't seem to mind his guidance so long as she can still breathe and seems quite genuinely to be enjoying herself. After all, if this is the last-- better make the most if it~ There are certainly questions that R'oan could ask, ones that he might want to ask, but under her mouth, his part of compliance isn't so much a play as reality. It's only after that he offers in an uneven, harsh exhale, "Fuck, you are good at that," before leaning forward to capture her lips in his shamelessly, for all that this isn't really an even exchange. But true to his word, Etrevth does start stirring awake, yawning lazily as he does so. Licking her lips in satisfied fashion when the kiss is finished, Tess flashes an amused smile up at him, "I know it will shock you to hear," it would any reasonable person, certainly! "But it was never hard to find men willing to let me practice that particular skill." So shocking. True to her earlier acquiescence, Tess presses her hands against his thighs to use to lever herself up from her knees more easily and leans into brush a light kiss to the older man's lips one more time before she's leaning onto the bed next to him, balancing her weight on one hand while the other picks through the sheets to look for the dress, undergarments, and over-shirt that were consumed by the bed the night before. For some reason, R'oan isn't shocked, only a wry laugh drawn from the brownrider's lips at Tess' answer. "And now you're hoping that I will say I'm always willing to let you practice," is more of a guess than actual statement, grey-green eyes watching the younger woman as he shifts to sit back on his bed. Apparently he has no intent to follow her down, given that he doesn't move to cover his own naked body, but he does find that over-shirt first. He fishes it out from under himself before holding it out to her on the curve of a finger. Say it isn't so! Tess grins at his laughter. "Do you think I need practice?" is what she returns to him with, her brows hitching higher in challenge. "I had rather thought I'd perfected the technique. And though I wouldn't want to get rusty, I would suspect it wouldn't be terribly difficult to find willing partners here. I hear the men in these parts are more promiscuous than where I came from," she offers drolly, "which is saying something because convincing them to keep their pants on was harder than getting them to take them off." There's amusement in her memories and no shame. Having found her dress, her story is punctuated by the wiggle and shake of sliding back into it. Then she's leaning to claim her over-shirt, and exchange it for a kiss to his finger. Then she's sitting down on the edge of the bed to take care of her own boots this time. "Do you ever think you can be skilled enough that there's absolutely no room for improvement?" challenges R'oan in light response, but there is something thoughtful in the way he watches her dress, studies even the curve of her spine as she sees to those boots. "You'll find any number of willing partners here. My advice, stay away from anyone on a bronze." That may be slightly biased. His first makes her laugh and a give him a gesture that admits defeat to his point. "I suppose I'll just have to practice with the hope that perfection is possible," she tells him with humor. "I'll keep that in mind," Tess adds of the bronzeriders, leaning to kiss his cheek. "Anyway, I don't see what all the fuss is about over these shiny beasts. I like your fellow very much without any shine." Her warm smile is now for Etrevth. "I'm sure he'll see me safely to the ground." There might be a measure of nerves there that is briefly audible, but she's not going to complain. She'll put on a brave face, kiss the nameless rider soundly one last time, flash him a smile and a murmur of, "Thanks, that was fun," before she's moving toward the dragon in indication of her readiness. R'oan gets to keep the bottle for his prize, evidently. Even if Tess murmurs to the dragon, "You'll make sure he eats something sometime today, won't you? And drinks water." Let it not be said a healer doesn't do her due diligence even when she's off duty. "It's only in their own heads," is what R'oan answers about those shiny riders dismissively, though he'll add as a prize for Tess, "And in the antiquated system of bullshit that we all agree to live with." But then he is returning that kiss, fingers drawing against silken hair briefly before releasing her to his dragon. Etrevth's snort is a humored thing, if one were used to listening to dragons. Even if not, it is possible to make out the amusement in the brown's gaze that he turns on Tess. But then he is extending a leg out to her like a gentleman, stilling to allow her to climb up on her own. Tess's silence in answer and warm smile is a tactful maneuver. Better to part on good terms! She is a little clumsy getting up onto Etrevth and it takes her two tries, but the second time she manages, and murmurs a "Thanks," to him before daring to lift a hand to wave to R'oan before placing them back on the brown's neck-ridges. She probably has to remind herself to breathe, but she doesn't puke on the way down, so that's always a plus, right? Etrevth is the kind of dragon that, for all his gentleman's manner in allowing her to mount, doesn't adjust his flight for inexperienced riders. Especially not with the freedom of freshly healed wings and without his rider to restrain him. The flight from ledge to bowl might be short, but it is fast, with a sharp turn this way and then that way before he comes to a halt that seems just shy of actual landing on the ground below. Tess' reiteration of "Thank you, Etrevth" once she's made the dismount and hopped to the ground is shakier, and she stumbles a little as she moves to walk away from him, almost like noodle-legs from the experience, but that could be as much because of the experiences before getting on the dragon, so who can say! She'll leave him to his sky and his freedom. |
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