Logs:The Best Turnover Present Ever
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| RL Date: 16 October, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Teisyth rises for her seventh flight and is caught by Jo's Tacuseth. G'laer finally has an honest to goodness good flight experience. |
| Where: Flight Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, B'gherio/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sex. Post-flight. Back-dated. |
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| What kind of dragon would Teisyth be if she didn't get G'laer a really great turnover present like a mating flight! It's only days into the new turn when the dragon begins to show the telltale signs, for her, hiding, and for him? Easy smiles, laughs, and attention deficit disorder in a big way. It's been some sevens since the last passing encounter of bluerider and green, but now they're encountering each other in a very different, distinctly more intimate way when it's Tacuseth that has twined tails with Teisyth. It speaks volumes for the trust he has in the convict that as the dragon haze begins to pass, G'laer still has his arms around her and he is-- if not truly dozing, markedly relaxed in his satisfaction. For once, he's not in a hurry to disentangle himself or even to speak. Anytime Tacuseth catches a lucky (in his estimation) green, the rider attached to her would be in for a wild ride. This one is no exception, despite the growing trust and fondness between greenrider and convict rider. Lingering aggression shows in the aftermath of Jo's wrapped around G'laer (nails surely bedded into his back), like the two had finished a fight for bed dominance. Her head's on his chest, eyes half-lidded through the haze of sexual bliss as her breathing pattern suggests that she is by no means sleep. The greenrider, before the flight, was only too willing for-- well, everything. Now? Now there's an active interest in... well, continuing the party. The way he shifts against her after some lingering moments indicate that, unless Jo is stringently opposed, there's going to be an equally enthusiastic and rough round two before there are any words to speak of. Jo is one of those that rarely turn down seconds post-flight. The active interest is reciprocated, his shifting having the convict rider draw him into a searing kiss that speaks of the lingering heat from the flight still being present. From there, once she straddles him in her full nakedness, the wanton woman is eager to take the reins herself in this second round - and there's no words needed. Whether she succeeds or not in remaining in this position, she's lying flushed against G'laer in the end - all spent, breathing heavily and quietly chuckling to herself. The greenrider, now free of the pacifying influence of his dragon's proddiness, is not, as it turns out content for the duration to simply be ridden - not that he seems to mind, but he wants his turn to make things awesome, too! He matches Jo, relatively, for breath and satisfaction, his face buried against her neck for some moments in recovery before he's shifting to roll onto his back beside her. "I think that's closer to how flights are supposed to go," come his first words, his voice gritty from recent exertions. He doesn't seem like he's in much of a hurry to move. "Shell of a lot better than having someone threaten my life or break something," he turns his head to quirk an amused brow at Jo, "Unless you were just saving that for after." Drawing her hips against his, his words draw a lazy smile to Jo's face before she can speak. "Mmhm," is what really comes first, and when it looks like that's all she's willing to say, she turns her hazy gaze at the greenrider before adding in, "Do ya want me to pulla shiv on ya? Cuz, I know folks that's all into that sort of play'n hey, a girl like me doesn' judge." It's a tease at best, but one can tell that the convict rider can also be serious about it. After a chuckling moment, her touch now much less aggressive than before, "Who's been threat'nin yer life, hm?" she asks now. The greenrider snorts his amusement at the first. "I prefer the deadly weapons in my own hands," which doesn't say anything about his preferences for the non-lethal ones. "That kid I was hunting, Rh'mis," who G'laer's mentioned to her before, "and H'vier," who G'laer is now wingseconding for in Iceberg. "H'vier had cause. Rhey-- is just-- Rhey." He's relaxed enough to roll his eyes. His are on the ceiling, expression growing thoughtful even as he says, "I'd rather lay here and not think." But. The word is there as surely as if it were spoken. "Ol' H'vier sure gets around," Jo remarks on the latter name given, snickering and shaking her head. "Who hasn' that man been in a fight with yet?" Rhetorical at best, for she shifts to glance his way before addressing his last with a, "Then lay here'n not think," given with ease, shrugging a little. "Yer needed back soon? Yer..." weyrmate? It's not spoken, but her look turns pointed enough that she's taken the linger but to mean that. G'laer reaches a hand up to scrub across his face and then kicks a foot to catch the edge of a fur and pull it up, not because he's shy, but because it's the dead of winter in 'Reaches and even with a fire going in the hearth. "Actually, I think he left me." It's a sobering thing to say out loud, but the most the greenrider does is sigh heavily. "He's been gone the last couple days. Without a word. That I can remember, anyway." It's probably possible that in G'laer's highly distractible proddy state Oliwer could have mentioned something and he's forgotten. He reaches an arm for Jo, seeking to pull her against him, possibly just for the added warmth. "Left ya." Jo echoes those words, studying G'laer's face to read his expression. "As in, left left? What, ya had a fight or somethin'? What does he do again?" There's a slight frown on her face, perhaps certain that she's at least seen the man called Oliwer before. When he then reaches to pull her against him, she goes willingly as she says, "Well, maybe it's not that bad. He'll come back, right? Unless ya fucked up somewhere. Can' imagine that even bein' possible, how ya are'n all." She props her chin on his chest to stare at him, her teasing jabs drawing a lazy lopsided grin from her. "Healer," that's the easiest part to answer. "Several," is the next easiest to the matter of fights. "I've been keeping secrets," the greenrider shrugs. "Not sure there's any coming back from this one. No sane man would keep me after all that's happened." Though, perhaps one might argue that no sane man would be interested in G'laer to begin with. "Anyway, I don't much care to think about all that just now, if you don't mind. If I'm going to lie here, I'd rather not think anything but pleasant thoughts about what we just did." There's amusement slipping out as he forces all the rest away and focuses on the present. "Even without the dragon, you're pretty good in the sack, bluerider." Compliments, so sweet! Perhaps sweeter if his smirk at her weren't a little on the lecherous side. At least they're of an age, about, so it's not as if he's lecherous and old. "That normal for ya?" Jo casually asks, as if he had just mentioned that he has allergies this time of turn. "The secret-keepin' from yer people." Though, since G'laer doesn't want to talk about that, and she's studying him anew as he speaks, she briefly inclines her head to that and whatever else she had to add to the previous seems to die along with it. She snorts instead about their post-flight bliss with a roll of her eyes and a, "'Pretty good'? Shit, damage my ego, why doncha, darlin'," she openly teases with a narrowed look going his way. Head tilting a bit to the side now, "Had the impression ya weren' all that fond of us women anyway," she adds, amusement coloring her tone. "Not that our dragons much care'n hey, I've been known to turn even the most assured of male greenriders a time or two." Probably her ego talking. "If they've proven they prefer the lies. But turns out I don't want to anymore." G'laer shakes his head, "Oliwer is a good person." Does that help explain? It certainly leaves the implication that he is not, not that he expects that to bother Jo much, if at all. He does make an amused sound in his throat before saying, "I suppose I'll be gutting your ego to tell you that the only thing I'm not fond of when it comes to women is the unfortunate possibility of pregnancy." One hand moves to trail idly along her arm and up to her shoulder. "If it does turn out I'm single, you can try for better than 'pretty good' later, if you think you can ever manage to get those pants off again without dragon grease." What with them being so tight and all. His lips pull into a smile, though the tease was delivered deadpan. "Sometimes pregnancy is inevitable with us, darlin'," Jo remarks with a slight shrug, giving herself a good stretch against the greenrider. "Yer gonna let somethin' like that stop ya though? I thought 'riders were notorious for leavin' their kids around somewhere." Or, maybe the convict rider's views are warped. Either way, she continues on as he trails fingers on her bare skin, "And leave my pants alone, Mr. Obssessive," she notes with a light knuckle jab on his chest for his last. "Somethin' tells me that healer'll take ya back just fine, so don' even think about usin' me as a fuckin' consolation prize." At least it's delivered with a rakish smile, her sharp words commonplace if one's been around her long enough. "I'm chosen, not settled for, darlin' greenrider." "Yeah, well, you probably haven't met my mother. The one that mothered eleven children and still wishes she had more," G'laer answers Jo with a snort. "I wouldn't wish her on anyone." Such is the love this son has for his mother. He doesn't seem to mind being jabbed. He even closes his eyes, "If you insist." The pants are all hers. "We'll see. I can't imagine you being a consolation prize." He smirks though, shifting a little more. "And I wouldn't want you to be. Prizes, of any kind, are too often taken for granted." His eyes range across the ceiling. "But Tac can catch Teisyth anytime he likes," because, you know, they have so much control over that. "I haven'," Jo equally agrees about meeting family. "She would probably like my father, if he's still alive." She can't help the small smirk that appears on his comment about prizes, and his last gets a wry chuckle from her. "I thought it was the green's choice, not her rider's," she openly teases, pressing the palm of her hand flat on his chest. "They do seem pretty cozy out there. Does Teisyth take on favorites like some greens do?" "Mmhm. That's why I keep bedding teenage boys." G'laer grimaces. Stupid green's choices. The sentence wasn't nearly so funny as he might have thought it could be. It just isn't. He reaches up and scrubs a hand across his face. "She's had Rhey's brown three times. So far, he's the only repeater, and I'll thank Faranth that it was the first three, so maybe that's a cycle that's been broken. She'd rather pretend that she doesn't ever mate if it's all the same to everyone else. Willfully forgets just as soon as the thing is over, but friendly enough all the same." Hence the green's apparent willingness to stay snugged up against Tacuseth for the time being. "Would you want Tac to be one of her favorites if she did?" He counters with a little amused half-smile. "You don't need an excuse to take your pants off in front of me, you know." He resists, this time, a comment about them, but it's easy to bet he has one at the ready in case she's waiting for it. "Teenage boys, huh?" Whether he intended it or not, Jo seems to be finding that amusing with the small laughter that ensues. "Maybe she thinks ya have a secret hankerin' for them? Or maybe she just has a good sense of humor." She nudges G'laer before answering his question with a languid shrug, her scars on proud display across her olive skin as she transitions into a stretch. "Tac seems to be a lot of greens' favorite," she notes with easy grace before looking his way. "I never mind when he catches one I don' mind beddin'. Doesn' happen often, but then, I already know mine has a rather colorful sense of humor." She chuckles at that, casting a glance over towards the dragons before she turns back to him and asks, "And, I don' need an excuse. I don' even need an excuse to bed you." Yes. It sounds just as cocky as she says. "Haven' ya heard? I'm an easy mark." Easy words, even. Few might even detect that they're rehearsed, too. "I want nothing more, I'm sure," G'laer jests with an expression of distaste. "Actually, that's what motivated me to make a move on Oli, the first time. I figured I'd just get mine when she rose and not deal with the complications of liaisons," not relationships even, "but when she rose and Rhey caught, I couldn't even enjoy it," he must mean after the fact. "He was practically still a boy." A shudder goes through him, involuntary. In another time, another setting maybe he could've or would've stopped it or at least dulled it down into a little tremor, but now? He's less guarded and more relaxed, so the genuine repugnance is let to have it's impact. Then he's shifting a little, pulling a pillow under his head so he can see her better, his lips twitching with their more customary restrained amusement, "Am I to believe everything I hear about you then, Jo?" Jo's laughing at his response and shaking her head. "Yeah, well, our damn dragons don' really much care 'bout all that, now do they?" she asks on him ending with Rhey, baring teeth. "Shit happens. I've been caught with my leathers down enough to know. Never been weyrmated myself though." When he shifts, she's watching him, the easy smile always playing on her lips as though she could really have no care in Pern until G'laer asks about the last. Or maybe she expected it, for the convict rider is quick to shrug and toss back, "Of course. Why not?" "Not much." G'laer agrees of the first rather grimly. Then some amusement ekes into that tone as he says, "I think you've taken the better path in all of it. I hadn't intended to be married ever again. Sharding mess the first time," the greenrider considers as moves his head on the pillow a little as if to chase away some offending lump that's not sitting just right, "not much better the second. Though I suppose I'd say I've known happiness in it. There is something to belonging." He considers her a long moment before his lips pull to a smirk. "Where would be the fun in that?" he answers the why not, then he's in motion again, this time, seeking to playfully roll them, intending to be braced over her if the maneuvering is successful. "No need for monogamy now if ya don' want it," Jo is casual about it on marriage, laughing and shaking her head. As for belonging, there's a pause there as if the bluerider is considering his words on the matter before he could probably feel the single nod of her head before she says, "Out there I belonged. Took long turns to feel any of that belongin' here." Until. The word hangs, suspended in the air between them, and when he asks the last and she merely snorts in response, she finds herself rolling over to the being beneath him with her nails gripping his biceps. "Like ya would want yer opinion changed of me, darlin'," she notes, amusement in her husky tone. "There's no better intrigue than a bad girl." G'laer considers the woman beneath him, expression serious then a slight smile slips onto his lips. "Don't know about that. Even good girls can have puzzles to solve and mysteries to unravel." He leans in to nip the brunette's neck briefly before he's aiming to push himself back onto his knees. "For example, what kind of business would a healer have accepting deliveries of a certain sort? And how would a good son not know?" He doesn't seem about to give details, of course, but it's just an example, right? He reaches up to scrub across his face. "Guess it all comes down to which mysteries you want to unravel in life, if any at all." He looks at her again, that considering look last. "Going to tell me? What made you feel like you belong here." Don't ask, don't get! "I wouldn' know," Jo drawls on good girls and puzzles with a sensuous shift of her wiry body beneath him. "I don' make it a priority to hang 'round good girls to know." His nip to her neck earns him a smile that's leaning towards feral, and his example lends a slight pause from her before she gives a shrug. "Would uncoverin' the business of a healer be of interest to ya, rather? Everyone has their own secrets in the end, I'd wager." As to his question, she considers it as she regards her with his sharp gaze before she answers, "Aishani. Zee," her old lover. "Tac. I'll never fully belong, but, they helped. That means somethin'." "Jo," G'laer feigns surprise. "Don't you know by now that I like uncovering anything that someone'd rather keep under wraps?" He glances meaningfully toward where her pants were abandoned and back before he grins. "It's good to have people to make you feel like you belong." He considers that as he shifts to slide off the bed and start collecting clothes (his, hers, it doesn't matter). "Is it strange that I felt more belonging here before Teisyth than after? Even if she'd never be parted from this place for all the cajoling I could offer?" Presumably, he's tried at least once from the sounds of it. Jo snorts when G'laer looks toward her discarded leather pants, then when he moves to pick up their clothes she shifts up into a sitting position on the bed. Apparently, she has all the time in the world. "Before?" she echoes on him belonging, frowning at him as she watches. "Unusual, but, I guess I can get that. Where would'ja wanna go if she was willin' to leave? Reaches ain' yer home, right?" "Born and bred. My mother flies with Icicle, father with Frostbite, and one of my sisters with Avalanche. I was sent to the guard at Crom when I was twelve." G'laer answers. "If you can imagine me the weird and nerdy weyrbrat I was," there's amusement there, "imagine me in these caverns and tunnels. If you need help imagining, I'm sure Quinlys would be willing to fill in the details after enough booze." What else Quinlys would say about him... well. "Don't know where we'd go really. Spent my life here in this place and in Crom, and a dragonrider can't live in Crom." He says 'can't' but his inflection implies 'shouldn't' as well. "This place isn't what I remember. Not what I wish it was." He sighs before tossing her clothes to her. "Want me to buy you a drink?" Apparently he'll buy after a good time like this. Jo may not comment - for all that she's actually asking questions - but one can be sure that she's taking in everything G'laer reveals. Names are filed away and nods are given as the convict rider gives her bare back a leisurely stretch, the cracking sound satisfying before she answers. "Weyrbred. Mm, don' see it, darlin', but then, I s'pose I wouldn' know since I spent most my life around degenerates. Maybe I should ask Quinlys. Get her all liquored up...." Yeah, that almost sounds like a threat if there wasn't that teasing note in her voice. Something the greenrider says though gets a curious look from her as she drops her feet off the bed to stand. "What do ya wish it to be?" she has to ask now before she nods to his offer and answers, "Of course, if yer buyin'." "Sounds like a good time," G'laer says of Quinlys and booze with some trace of amusement, though even now it's less than it was when he was still in the bed, not less that's there, but less that's shown. "I want it to be something from a Harper's story." The greenrider's answer, as he dresses, has a grim amusement to it, but he doesn't elaborate. "Maybe I'll tell you about it if you buy me a drink." But he's buying, so maybe she'll just have to wait. Either way, it's quick enough that he's dressed and freshened up, splashing a little water on his face from the wash basin before he's heading for Snowasis, and if she wants that drink, she can follow. If not... well, it's more marks in his pocket. There's laughter in G'laer's response prompts Jo to start dressing, the bluerider much more easy in it as though she has all the time in the world. Something he says draws a look from her before she responds with, "So I buy ya a drink? Maybe later. I rather be the indulged today than the indulger." He'll find her not too far behind once he heads for the bar, for indeed she was not about to pass up a free drink if she could help it. |
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