Logs:Used
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| RL Date: 2 August, 2013 |
| Who: Ekoth, Reisoth, H'vier, Tayte |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Tayte has a specific need, H'vier obliges. It might not have been what either of them wanted. |
| Where: Tayte's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 6, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Angst! Also briefly sex. Back-dated and played via gdocs. |
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| Ekoth has slips into the second skin of the most suitable of her personas. The green reaches for Reisoth, her mindtouch now silk and sensuality. « If you are Reisoth, I have a message for H'vier. » The touch swirls and the scents of perfume snake along sinuously. « Tayte says she needs him to use her. She says it won't take long. Will he come? » Reisoth is not a male so easily swayed by the prospect of female company as his rider. The green's sensuality is met with all the warmth of a stainless steel surgical table in a bare, white room. His voice is pleasant enough, granted, like he might be speaking to a child. « I refuse to repeat his response. You can inform the woman that he would be happy to oblige her request. » Tayte's Room, High Reaches Weyr The peculiar shape of this room suggests that it was unintentionally expanded, cement holding the ceiling together towards the peculiarly shaped alcove build into the back corner. It's larger than most personal quarters as a result, and though the uneven walls mean nothing sits flush, there's plenty of room for more than the usual amount of furniture. The larger lobe of the lopsided kidney shape that the room has might be considered a studio room. A large bed is tucked into the roundest part of the alcove, though there's a gap behind where the straight headboard does not meet the wall. It's piled high with furs and pillows. In this curve there's also a wardrobe, a dresser, and nightstands. Hooks extending from the ceiling over the dresser have been rigged with two layered chain-link that holds a number of bottles of alcohol of different varieties. The highest drawer in the dresser which is bizarrely the largest locks with a key. Opposite it, closer to the door, is a hearth that's had a throw rug and loveseat set in front of it, along with a few low tables. A set of shelves and a small desk sit opposite the curve of the smaller end of the room. Around the curve and into the little lobe, one finds a great change. There's color everywhere instead of the muted things in the front half. Scarves and streamers hang from little hooks installed in the ceiling, their lengths varying, and a crib is set up in the middle with two small boxes that have toys poking out of their not-quite-shut lids. There's a tall table stocked with all the tools a mother needs (well, those that are safe to be at toddler height) and a small dresser and wardrobe. The furniture is all hand-me-downs but in decent enough condition to make the occupants comfortable.
The test of the knob has it turning and his press opens it. He's not met with a large hairy man, just a surprised-looking Tayte. She's steps away from the door in an ankle-length black silk robe, and the way it hangs on her curves, it's likely not much else. She blinks at him, and then simply beckons him the rest of the way in since he's already started the process of entering by turning the knob. Her tongue has to flicker over dried lips before she can manage a quiet, "Thanks for coming." There's only the briefest pause while he closes the door before she's starting to undo the belt on the robe, asking, "Shall we?" The black robe that H'vier finds Tayte in earns a few long moments of appreciation once he's far enough through the door to see her properly. "I half expected you to be naked and bent over your bed when I got here," he says by way of greeting. "Did you think I might not come?" he adds when her thanks actually occurs to him. That would be a comical thing for a woman who's willingly offering him herself to think, after all. The bronzerider closes the door behind him, locking it without looking and, with nothing left to do with his hands afterwards, makes his way over to Tayte to help her with her robe. "Just like that? No drinks or anything?" Where usually the first remark would meet with a roll of her eyes and some quippy response, the best Tayte can manage tonight is a simple, "You would. I'm clearly making you work too hard as is." A robe and probably underwear, too! "I thought it was possible. You are on punishment, aren't you?" Not that it kept him away when Hraedhyth rose days ago. Her hands stall on the belt, only having pulled one strand of the bow down, the thing still loosely bound around her waist. "We can have drinks. Whatever you like." Her manner is too calm, too quiet, and quite submissive, apparently. "What would you like to drink?" She asks, twisting toward the hanging bottle collection and the massive dresser beneath, but not moving yet. "A little thing like that has never stopped me from getting what I want before." At least not getting things he wants that he's capable of getting, anyway. "And I definitely want you. Didn't really think you'd miss me, though." Because that's clearly what this is. Tayte has been missing H'vier the last couple days and she needed more of his rugged manliness and muscles. "Whatever's fastest. Lose the robe, though, darling." At least he'll also work on losing his shirt and boots, unfastening his belt, in the meanwhile. Her smile is broken, or she might smile because H'vier, just by being his usual charming self, is doing exactly what she'd wanted him here for. So instead, she just nods to his instructions, her fingers undoing the belt and shrugging out of it. It leaves her in her matching underwear and slippers. The robe is hung, carefully on a hook on the side of the wardrobe beside the dresser and the hanging booze. Without looking, she pulls a bottle down and makes quick work of opening. She doesn't bother with glasses this time or ice, but simply puts the bottle to her lips for a long draw. Then she turns to hold it out to him, leaning her back against the dresser. "I didn't think I would need you." But she does. Let him take that as something it's not. She doesn't seem to mind. With the robe gone, H'vier isn't shy about enjoying the view. He's also not shy about touching the view. He waits for her to hand the bottle to him and then he's stepping closer to smooth his free hand across her side and just around toward the small of her back. "You said it'd been a long time. Maybe it's not me. But I'm glad it's me that you asked to come, gorgeous. I wanted to come back. Just thought I'd have to wait until I was here again." He hasn't taken a drink yet and he doesn't seem to be in a huge hurry to take one. He does want a kiss, though, leaning his bruised face down to find her lips, his body pressing her back against the dresser. He can have the kiss he wants, but it's likely not as long as he wants it to be, because Tayte's pulling back, just a touch, not that the dresser allows her much space, "Havi," She's interrupting this start, "Don't call me gorgeous tonight, okay? I don't feel gorgeous. I don't want to feel it." The last is probably to forestall a normal man's reaction of trying to convince her otherwise. "I did ask you here because you're you. If I'd just wanted to get laid, I would've just found someone. I need something specific. I need you." How would he feel if he knew what about him it was that she needed? She likely doesn't want to know, so the question goes unasked. There are a few moments of silence from H'vier. He's looking at her, studying her face, and obviously dealing with some thought process in that pretty head of his. He might do stupid things a lot but, in the end, Reisoth wouldn't have Impressed himself to a man truly lacking in intelligence. That doesn't mean he chose a good man, though. H'vier steps back from Tayte and gestures at the bed. His demeanor has changed, less soft, likely more in line of what she wanted from him to begin with. "Move, then. Make sure you get that ass nice and high where I can see it." He takes a long drink from that bottle before setting it aside and working his way out of any remaining clothes. It's not a long affair. There are no cute quips or cheesy lines this time. Just down to business. H'vier, without having to be told precisely what it is, gives Tayte more or less the exact experience she was hoping for. By the time it's over, she feels justified in feeling worthless. In a strange way, it does make her feel a little better. In so many others though, it just makes her feel worse. There's a change once it's over, once they're recovering. She slips herself under his arm and places her cheek on his chest. Her breathing's uneven, but that's just recovering after exertion, right? "Havi, is this-- how you like to be with women? Or did you do it for me because I wanted it?" She asks the question quietly. It's such a vulnerable time for a man, when he's found the completion that so often drives his actions, leaving his brain open for other things. Like talking. He's still breathing deep, catching his breath, content in the afterglow of pleasure. The arm that moves around her when she tucks herself under it is almost instinctive. Just like the way his fingers touch her hair. "Does it matter how I like to be with women, Tayte?" He doesn't say her name properly very often. "You used me to use you. I'd like to say that doesn't happen very often, but." But, he can't. He's not a stranger to being that guy. Especially when he can be that guy without even thinking about it. Tayte might not have been feeling vulnerable moments before, but now she feels naked beyond the obvious. She shifts, pushing up onto her hands. She's biting her lip, expression guilty as charged as she gazes down on him. "I'm sorry. It was selfish of me." She shakes her head. "It does matter how you like to be with women. More specifically, how you'd like to be with me. I'd like to-- be whatever that is, for you, for now." Maybe she just wants to make it up to him because she feels guilty, or maybe she really does care. "No," says H'vier, though to what isn't as obvious. "Being selfish isn't a crime." If it was, he would have been hanged or something worse a long time ago, after all. "If you're going to do this, own it. Don't apologize." He could probably continue on with some sort of 'how to use people' lesson but the rest of what she says is harder for him to parse in his current state of mind. "What do you mean for now?" Now that the best has worn off, H'vier is starting to sit up, looking over to where he'd set down the bottle before actually shifting to get to his feet so he can fetch it. As he sits up, so does she, pulling her knees up and leaning on one arm, still looking at him. "I don't want to own it. I thought it would make me feel better. But." Apparently not so much. "Not that it didn't feel great-- it did," Tayte adds that quickly lest he be in doubt of her appreciation for the act itself. "That's not how I want to be with a man. Not really. It was just-- how I was feeling a man should be with me. At the time." Which maybe she doesn't feel is the case, anymore. "Now... tonight? Now-- whenever? What do you want now to mean? You didn't strike me as the type to take regular lovers." The way he trolled for tail in the bar in Ista, she probably thought it was a new girl every night and never the same one twice. "Am I wrong?" His ego doesn't seem to be in any danger of feeling unappreciated. Being appreciated isn't why he came. Well, that might not be entirely true. But he knows now. "No," he says as he picks up the bottle and takes another long drink. "No, you're not wrong." But maybe that's part of the problem. H'vier offers the bottle to Tayte before he goes to start picking up his clothes where he'd discarded them not so long ago. "I should go," he says even as he works on trying to pull on his pants again. She takes the bottle, but only to set it on a table. "I'd like it if you stayed." Tayte expresses softly, "Even if it's only for one more round." She shifts, the move of her legs graceful as she slides off the bed and crosses to where he's collecting clothes. She reaches to run her fingers down his chest. "Let me be your fantasy this time? If I can?" Fingers touching him are enough to give him pause. H'vier likes to be touched. But it doesn't sway him too much, in the end. He's made up his mind. "You've already been my fantasy, Tayte." The way he says it suggests that it wasn't a feat done tonight. He continues with his pants until he can refasten his belt. "I'm not mad at you, you know. You don't need to make it up to me or whatever it is you're thinking. I'm just gonna go. I need to go." Whether it's because he needs to go or because he knows he's already on various shit lists of people higher up in the pecking order than himself is another matter. "Still feel somehow like I let you down." Tayte murmurs as her hand drops away, eye following. Or is that that she feels like she let herself down? Again. There's a nod from her though. She's not going to beg."Yeah. Alright." Her shoulders rise and fall, as if it doesn't matter. "Thanks." She turns to retrieve her robe. "See you, whenever, I guess." Another shrug. Her expression doesn't betray much, except general discontent. "You didn't. You were beautiful." So, yeah, he does like women that way at least a little bit. "I'll come by when I'm back properly." She could say no, of course, but he doesn't leave a lot of room for actual discussion on the matter. And he might not respond to that no right now. "Get some rest. Take care of yourself, yeah?" H'vier slips his shirt and boots on and he pauses near Tayte long enough to press a kiss to her forehead before he'll make his way toward the door. |
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