Logs:Not a Double Date
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| RL Date: 7 January, 2016 |
| Who: C'ris, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Solith rises, C'ris and Telavi's side of what really wasn't a double date, not one little bit. |
| Where: Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'zin/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Post-flight. Sexual references. |
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| It is likely not surprising that C'ris is a cuddler. In the aftermath, before giving in to the demand of sleep with the fog of the flight still clouding his thoughts, he wraps Telavi carefully into his arms as if she might break, as if she might disappear, with one arm folded over with fingers barely brushing the curve of a breast while the other buries itself into blonde hair to cradle her head. His body curves against her's, lips pressed against the nape of her neck and a leg thrown possessively over hers, with little regard for personal space as he falls into a sated sleep. It is likely more of a surprise that Mivength has attempted the same with Solith, a somewhat hesitant movement that betrays the blue. He still can't believe how he got so lucky, nor can he quite believe that she chose him. Part from column A, part from column B. To be sure, if it weren't wholly choice for Solith-- so much is synergy, and there had been others more prepossessing when they began-- one wouldn't guess it now; pleasure in Mivength breathes through her, and she's more than happy to lean into the blue under the cover of his wing, having landed wherever he'd chosen. That not-quite-belief, sincere as it is, that delight of his, find soft sunshine and a quiet breeze, her neck curved about his so their very breaths attune. As for Telavi, she doesn't mostly-live with a cuddler; she's not used to it anymore, but, seeing as how he's keeping her from drowning in her hair, that lovely post-flight haze makes it natural and-- for the moment, or the next few hours-- that much more of a treat. Natural, too, is a not-really-awake Telavi pressing into the curve of his hand, his hips, so it's that much more how she'd like. It was his ledge on which Mivength landed them, no longer at all concerned with the green's occupation of his space, a space he so gladly shares now. Wrapped in her, he is, for now, the best dragon that he can be. C'ris radiates warmth even as he sleeps, dozing in and out in that same post-flight haze. When he does finally start to stir, it is a certain part of him that does first. And then his lips move in a soft caress against the softer skin of her neck, his arm drawing her subtly tighter against him and that growing hardness. He isn't quite awake for words, but it doesn't stop the low rumble of a pleasurable noise at the softness he encounters. Warm. Warm is good, wrapped up is better, for Solith and for her rider, and both on a night such as this is best of all. It's not just Solith's neck that's sensitive, though, and not just because of Solith that her rider's breath flutters, her head turning this way and that just a little, not to get away but because-- sensation. She likes it, that's clear, this that he's doing; the depth of that rumble just enhances it, and she smiles, drowsy, drowsy, and welcomes. C'ris' fingers brush against the swell of her breast, curving there in a light claim even as his lips move with more purpose against her neck, teeth scraping lightly here then there. It might just be ruined a moment later when a low, inviting, "Quinlys," slips from those lips. At least there is nothing but Solith in Mivength's thoughts, his muzzle pressing closer against her hide. So much ruination! Not immediately, for sound is sound and that inviting quality reaches her before the name, and it's a name she likes but-- "Where?" startles even Solith when it swiftly becomes an, "Oh!" and then a, "You're--" and then Telavi's twisting, or trying to twist but her hair-- C'ris' fingers are tangled there, twined possessively and he doesn't even realize until Telavi tries to twist away and he ends up yanking on her hair. That is when he realizes anything is wrong, that paired with Telavi's words. "Shit, shit. I am sorry," he apologizes quickly, trying to disentangle his fingers as swiftly but gently as possible. "I am-- Sorry. Are you ok?" With his concern for her, he hasn't yet had a moment to be concerned about her nakedness or the fact that his hardness is pressed against his stomach. Mivength rumbles an annoyance for it startling Solith, nuzzling against her in reassurance. "Ow!" There's definitely one or two of those in there, the second inelegantly half-swallowed, tears starting to Tela's eyes-- and if it's not wholly for her hair, who's to know. "Oh," she says more quietly, which is pretty much like okay, isn't it? starting to tuck her now-freed hair into a loose braid so she can peek around it with great wide eyes. "Oh." Telavi, not so much with the words. At least she's still sitting up, though, and that reassurance seems to be working for Solith, who settles again but still pays attention. It is that second oh that brings to C'ris' attention his own current problem, quickly to flush and grit his teeth. But it isn't going away and with Telavi right there still looking so inviting-- but he only reaches for a pillow, shoving it in his lap as he drags himself to sit up. "I am sorry," he offers again genuinely. "I--." His warm, dark eyes fall to the hands gripping his pillow and he says instead, "I think I punched your boyfriend." It's the beginnings of his movement that draws attention to the bluerider's dilemma, and so of course Telavi has to look, and then when he plants that pillow, somewhat frantically giggle. She makes no move to cover herself; why should she? "You?" might as well be 'why?' and 'how?!' Did K'zin let him? "He picked up Quinlys," explains C'ris to all of those unspoken questions, his frown drawing at the edges of his lips. And even more for her giggling which causes his flush to linger, especially when his gaze draws up to her and finds her sitting there so appealingly naked. His attention falls quickly to his hands again. "Don't worry; I don't think I hurt him. I hit his ribs. But-- he was being an asshole." "Of course," he picked up Quinlys-- only there's far more perplexity than agreement in Tela's voice and the beginning pucker to her brow. She can't miss C'ris' wandering gaze, though at least she doesn't giggle again; she does, as long as he's talking about K'zin, draw up to her knees with a clearer expression and a little bit of a bounce. "Would you... get me a towel? Please? There should be one right over there." Why it's not by the bed is something only Telavi knows. In the meantime she can sympathize; "He's just not like himself in flights. He's just-- just-- well, Rasavyth. Have you been in the same one before?" "Oh, yeah. Of course," is C'ris' own agreement to her request, offering her a quick smile even if he doesn't quite look at her when he does. And then he's up to fetch that towel, the pillow clutched to crotch as he does even if it leaves his backside exposed. He returns to extend it to her, of course, even as he explains, "No, we haven't. Mivength, you know, doesn't chase often. Once a turn, sometimes twice. Does he-- always in a flight or?" Telavi accepts this graciously, if with more than a hint of a dimple; as long as he's not watching, she makes use of it too. "I didn't know," she marvels. "How do you--" never mind. "Does he... chase Solith always? Or act up always? Mostly," works for both; satisfied, she tugs the sheets up and makes a better nest for herself, pulling a moue only once along the way. Only, the next time she looks up at him, it's with that how does he ever look again. "Do you mind?" "I-- don't know how you stand it. I punched him last night and I swear, I wish I had hurt him," admits C'ris with buried guilt for it, wincing slightly before he shakes his head dismissively. Instead, he meets that look with a reassuring smile, again shaking his head. "Mostly-- I don't. No. It makes my life easier, I think." A silence there as he looks to her with that point. "But doesn't he feel... pent up?" Telavi persists. "When was the last time you actually caught? K'zin-- he's wonderful when Solith's proddy, even when he knows," awkward, says her expressive face, "that it won't go well, except it will someday, I know it. Not that he's not wonderful normally, as much as you can expect of a man, it's just..." she has to wave her hands. "Yes, always," C'ris agrees so quickly and with such humor found in his poor dragon's behalf that he smiles into the awkwardness. "But he-- just doesn't want to chase. Except when he does. And then he usually doesn't catch. Well, he never has, before." Displeasure at C'ris spilling his secret rumbles deep in Mivength's chest, and he seems to already be peparing to withdraw from Solith before she can reject him. His rider, however, settles on the edge of that bed (still with his pillow). "That has to-- I'm sorry. It sounds difficult for him. I didn't realize that he was like that in flights." "Never ever ever ev--?" escapes from Telavi's mouth before she can clap a hand over it. Above that hand she's all wide blue eyes, even as Solith warbles lowly, uneasy as she peers at Mivength and his botheration; if anyone clued her in, it doesn't seem to signify. But Tela can't need yet another affirmation; instead she admits more freely than she normally would, hand no longer blocking but at the ready, "It's a bother." Her toes wave from side to side under the sheets. "It used to be...." Her fingers twitch; she stops. "Anyway, everyone's all right now." Right? "I-- hope. I'm sure. I need to talk to Quinlys but--." C'ris only shakes his had simply before offering another warm smile to Telavi, not stirring yet from his edge of the bed. Mivength, however, is retreating. His wings are unfolded from Solith with a ruffle, recorded against himself even if he doesn't draw further away. "I-- Not that there was anything wrong. I am-- It is good that he caught. And thank you." Quinlys. Quinlys. Quinlys-Quinlys-Quinlys and, "You're welcome?" Telavi manages even as Solith warbles again, untwining her neck only so she can butt her nose against Mivength, confused. Maybe that's why that look is spreading across Tela's face, realization and the initial inklings of horror. "Why is he bothered? What's wrong? She's worried," Telavi tells C'ris, hopping out of bed just like that and hurrying for... there's that flash of blue; she'll grab it, and her little slippers too. "He's-- He says he isn't bothered," answers C'ris, apparently done spilling all of his dragon's personal secrets to Telavi even as Mivength gives little to the affectionate gesture of the green. At least he doesn't move away, or worse, make Solith leave his ledge. "Sorry, don't worry about him. He'll be fine. He-- he's glad that he caught Solith." Telavi might be moving, but like his dragon, neither is the bluerider. Not with his pillow clutched where it is. He averts his eyes when she leaves the sheets, not even taking a peek after. Sigh. That would be Solith, who hunkers with her forepaws tucked in, like a little lithe loaf of green-tinted bread. "He should be," Telavi tells him simultaneously, hair flying anew now that she's let go of it. "People underestimate her, you know," is entirely uncharacteristic, Telavi herself perhaps the worst offender. Not visibly so, most days, but it's there. But Telavi's also done up the clasps of her gown, and half-toed into her slippers, and she may have forgotten her hairbrush but there's the riding jacket which, okay, isn't hers but will keep her warm anyway, as though she needed anything other than the hastily-donned indignation that's only better than the stomach-roil of worry. One last glance at The Impregnator, and Telavi's all set to flash out of there after a more moderated, even pleasant, "Good night"; Solith can't take her between soon enough. Except... despite Mivength's alteration, Solith doesn't seem to be going anywhere. She huddles a little more into herself and then looks up and away, narrow chin held high. "Good night," mumbles C'ris, worry etched again into his features for the moment for perhaps Telavi's defense, that glance, or the whole encounter. And it is a while before he drags himself to his feet, even after she's gone, and slowly scrambles back into his own clothes. For all Mivength's moodiness, he doesn't seem keen to drive Solith away. Instead he will watch the bowl below, as if the rest of the Weyr is crazy and not himself. If he doesn't ever leave to fetch C'ris, well--. |
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