Logs:Long Time Coming
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| RL Date: 31 October, 2014 |
| Who: Teisyth, G'laer, Jadzia, Savroveth |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'laer lures Jadzia out. The long-awaited deed is done. It's okay. |
| Where: Southern beach and Jadzia's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 2, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Sex. Adult themes. NSFWish. Way back-dated because I forgot about this folder of logs to post. |
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| To Savroveth, Teisyth's copper and nuts tang tickles at the edge of Savroveth's much smoother and more refined mind(touch). « Howdy-doo, Savroveth! G'laer'd like t'know if'n Jadzia's busy just now or if'n she might be free for a few hours? And if'n you'd both like to take a little trip? » The sense of her touch is that there is some physical distance much greater than one part of the Weyr to the next from whence the green speaks. To Teisyth, Savroveth might be a smooth son of a bitch (sorry, Hraedhyth!) when he needs to be. Or chooses to be. But Jadzia is generally not like her lifemate in that regard. So when the brown responds, it's probably not exactly verbatim. « She says to tell him that she's not busy. But that she'd rather get kicked in the face by a runner than enjoy the pleasure of his company. » But that won't keep Savroveth from asking without his rider's blessing, « A little trip to where? » To Savroveth, Teisyth is genuinely puzzled by this answer. « Well, that don't sound near as nice, but whatever she likes, I guess. I'll tell 'im. » In the meantime, she shows Savroveth. It's a beautiful, warm cove with a fire on the beach and the sun is shining on the water and there's a jungle and-- she doesn't even do it in crayon this time. This time it's a visualization (and she's told it's important those are not done in crayon). « He says to say he said please, » which isn't to say he actually did, but... well. That's the report back from the green, who confides quietly, « He'd really like it. He did this all special just fer her. » To Teisyth, Savroveth is very interested in this place. And it's probably that interest that will get under Jadzia's skin and win her over more quickly than anything G'laer could say or do. After a time, the brown is delighted to announce, « She says she'll come. But only if there's something to drink. » There's a few moments then in which an argument needs to occur. Finally, but unhappily, Teisyth says, « He says y'oughta lie to her an' tell her there is. But since he says y'mean alcohol, he ain't got none. On purpose. He says she oughta not drink now. » G'laer is predictably opinionated. (To Savroveth from Teisyth) Savroveth knows the truth isn't likely to go over particularly well, but he doesn't have any issues lying to his rider about the little things. So he lies. He can't really keep her from her security flask, but he can keep her from front-loading. It's not until they're landing on the beach that the brown warns Teisyth, « I told her there's no booze on the way. » And, of course, Jadzia isn't getting off the dragon who has no intention of leaving anytime soon. So she just sits there while he tilts his head to look back at her, wings folding tight along his body. G'laer's put together a little lean-to on the beach from the local foliage. In front of it is a cooking fire with roasting meat that must be a freshly hunted and butchered beast. Teisyth, for her part, is having a delightful time chasing fish in the crystalline waters. The greenrider, shirtless and with the marks of his physical exertion and time spent on this part of the continent (not their usual one to be sure) approaches the brown. "Are you going to come down?" he calls up, shielding his eyes as he tilts his chin to look up at her. "No," Jadzia says stubbornly down to the greenrider without looking at him. "Let's go, Sav." She kicks at her dragon with her heels like he's just as stubborn of a runner. But since he's not a runner, and maybe a little insulted by the idea, he just sighs at her and shifts away from G'laer. His wings stay plastered to his sides, though, so flight doesn't seem to be on his mind. It's toward the water that he's heading. Jadzia catches on quickly. "No, don't you dare! Fine. Stop! Just let me take off your straps, you asshole." And so Jadzia is on the ground, working at the straps, and G'laer can thank Savroveth later. Even if she's still ignoring the greenrider. Maybe G'laer will send Savroveth a thank you note. As is, he's patient, waiting for things to play out and it's once Jadzia has the straps that he's appearing at her side. "It's going to be awfully hard to have a first date if you ignore me this whole time," he observes even as he's reaching to try to help her carry the straps to where Teisyth's have been ditched. That word makes Jadzia's full blue-eyed attention turn on G'laer, but it's narrowed and tense as though it makes her instantly suspicious of him. Also not great for a date. Except Jadzia denies its existence, "This is not a date." She will let him help her with the straps, though, if only because there are a lot of them. "Alright," G'laer concedes immediately as he carries some section of straps. That should make her suspicious. He falls silent. Jadzia doesn't stay silent now. "What makes you think you can just invite me out to some remote beach on the grounds of a date, anyway? I've seen your balls. They are not that big." Once the straps are dumped, Jadzia needs to get out of her jacket, which she can throw on top of them once she fishes her flask out of it. "Is it ballsy to go on a date with you, Jadzi?" G'laer wants to know. "Or is it you who's lacking in that department? Would you rather we just fuck finally and get it over with? So you won't have to talk to me?" He's not high now, obviously. Before he gives her a chance to answer, he says, "Roasted meat and some other things," and he's turning to go back to the fire. What kind of gentleman walks off and leaves a lady? Really, G'laer. He can probably be forgiven for his manners, considering that there are no gentlemen and no ladies currently present. Jadzia doesn't answer any of those questions, though, glaring after the greenrider. She glances briefly toward Savroveth, but since that's a lost cause, she follows G'laer toward the fire with her flask in hand but unused. "That's how it usually goes," she finally answers about fucking over talking. "You didn't want to be special, right?" "I already am." It's not ego, it's fact. "Didn't you want me to be?" Not want in the sense of want, of course, since Jadzia would probably rather not want him at all, but given the wanting... G'laer settles on a driftwood log he's pulled up. There's enough space for two. "If you don't want to go on a date with me, you can just say so." He's nonchalant. "And this can be me sharing a meal with-- a friend?" He closes one eye and squints at her with the other. Friend just doesn't seem to describe them well. It's awkward. "I never know what I want." That could be a commentary on several levels here. Even Jadzia's nose wrinkles and she side-eyes the greenrider and his attempt at that particular word. "I was sort of planning on never talking to you again. What's that called? A casual acquaintance?" But she settles down on the log with him, appreciating his handiwork almost as much as she probably appreciates his lack of shirt. "Most of the people I know." G'laer answers, his lips sneaking their way into a soft sort of smile. He turns his gaze away from the blonde to the fire. "Still planning on never talking to me again?" Perhaps he's just trying to sort out if they're on a date or not. "I think that ship has already sailed since I'm here and all. Talking to you. We can probably revisit it after I go home, though." Jadzia watches the fire but there's a brief smile as she unscrews her flask to take a drink. "You can have a question for every drink you want to take and don't." G'laer offers without looking at her as soon as the top of the flask is heard. "One question I'll answer honestly to. Or a kiss, if you prefer." The questions were probably suspected as being of greater interest to the brownrider and hence offered first. "You might underestimate how much I want a drink." But Jadzia refrains from taking the drink that she wanted for now, drumming her fingers along the length of the flask instead. "Why don't you want me to drink?" "Because it's my fault you do. Because you said you'd get help. Because I didn't help." G'laer looks at her, "I'm not saying never drink. I'm just-- asking not now." And maybe not as much in general, but he'll start with the first one; that's easier to handle. "It's not your fault," is Jadzia's immediate response to that, glancing at the greenrider as though she's serious about him understanding that. "I wanted to get help. But once we could have a drink again, I sort of... stopped." Wanting to get help. Not drinking, obviously. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to never drink. Not with him in my head." "Mm." G'laer doesn't believe her. But this wasn't a question, so he doesn't have to be honest about that. "I find it interesting that you can stomach anything less than him. I can't eat nuts anymore," he muses looking at the fire before shifting up to tend the items on the spit. "Well, certain kinds, anyway." Presumably, he never ate copper to begin with. "He's special," she says as though the thought of it has occurred to her before. "Besides, I'm fairly certain I couldn't afford him." It makes Jadzia's gaze seek out the brown where he's enjoying the water and her smile, if brief, is fond. But then her attention shifts back to G'laer and she studies him while he tends the spit. "What do you want out of this?" The remark about affording Savroveth makes G'laer "Ha," with honest humor. He straightens from his food minding and stretches his arms up, eyes going to the water where Teisyth is oh-so-subtly (read: not at all) following the brown. "Honestly? I don't know. Do I have to?" He casts a glance back over his shoulder now to the blonde on the log. Savroveth doesn't seem to mind being followed but it might mean that she'll have to play with him once he starts splashing around at things that aren't really there. Jadzia is still watching G'laer, though, trying to decide if he does have to know what he wants out of it. "No. I guess not," she decides. There's no follow up question on deck so she only glances down at the flask in her hand. Teisyth is certain she saw them once Savroveth gets after the whatevers that aren't really there. She believes him. "Does that mean you want a kiss?" The greenrider asks, the pull of his lips turning into a slightly cheeky smile. He doesn't miss the look to the flask nor the lack of question. Jadzia glances toward the playing dragons before she lets herself look at G'laer again. But instead of an answer, she does have a question this time. "Do you want to kiss me?" The cheeky smile fades and the greenrider turns to consider the brownrider. "I've wanted to kiss you for turns." But he has kissed her within recent memory, so that's sort of a weird thing to say. It is kind of a weird thing to say considering that they have kissed in the last few turns. On several different occasions. And the uncertain face Jadzia makes at him suggests she doesn't really understand. "You have," is probably not actually meant to be a reminder. He was there. "Yeah, but never the right way," implying perhaps that those kisses sucked? No, that can't be it. G'laer was there and must know that's not the case. "The timing's always been off." He said that once before, although this time he doesn't look as though he's about to pass out in an untimely manner. "I imagined, a lot, back in Crom all the ways I could think of that were close to right. Only they never were." She was too young and a subordinate besides. No amount of imagining could erase facts. There's a reflexive tension in response to his comment on timing. The last time he used those words, Jadzia seriously, if only briefly, considered smothering him with his own pillows. She doesn't entirely relax as she listens, considering, but she does shift to set her flask down behind the log. "How's the timing now?" she finally asks as her palms press against the log like they might push her up to her feet. "Better," G'laer allows easily with a glance toward the water. "You swim?" He asks then, abruptly, shifting to move the food off the spit. He must not mean to suggest they go right now since the food is apparently ready. "I can," says Jadzia as she glances toward the water and pushes herself up to her feet. "Usually just run." Her attention comes back to G'laer and the food, though, and she asks, "Do you need a hand with anything?" "Do you like to?" The greenrider questions further as he shakes his head, turning to a small crate in the sand behind the log and producing from it two plates onto which he puts, one at a time the roasted game, handing off the first plate to the brownrider before dealing with the second and then reaching into the crate to add some vegetables, raw but salt-water-washed, and fruits to the offering. "Why do you want me?" It's asked abruptly. It probably means why are you interested in me, but it doesn't sound like he's fishing for compliments. This is G'laer, after all. "I guess," she says about swimming, not sounding terribly enthusiastic. But she hasn't sounded very enthusiastic about much so it might not be swimming's fault. The brownrider takes the plate. Once she has as full of a plate as she wants, Jadzia settles back down on the log near where she'd stashed her flask. "Do I need a reason?" "It'd be nice," G'laer answers but he shrugs, settling back down to start digging into his meal. Maybe he's waiting to see if she comes up with one. Jadzia picks at her food while she considers G'laer, watching him as though that will help her decide what to say. "Habit, maybe?" She's not being very serious, then. "I think I used to want you because you were dangerous. And you said no. But now?" Jadzia shrugs. Maybe it's the same reasons. "Why is it so easy for you to say no to me?" "It's never been easy to say no to you," G'laer answers, far more seriously. He regards the blonde some long moments, even pausing in his stripping of the meat from the bone. "So if I said yes, do you think you'd lose interest?" Perhaps he's just wondering; it sounds that way anyway. Whether Jadzia actually believes that answer is another matter, but not one that she feels the need to explore with him right this second. "Maybe," she offers her own answer. "I don't know. That's what you want, isn't it?" "Yes." G'laer sighs. "Only because I don't want to hurt you." So, good intentions should count for something right? He sets his plate aside looking at the brownrider. "Being an asshole hasn't done anything," well, nothing productive to his cause at any rate. "So, you win. Whatever you want." He'll do it. Apparently. The look Jadzia gives the greenrider is silently asking if he's serious without her possibly realizing it. "Out of all the people I've ever known, G'laer, you've hurt me the most. By far." She probably has a point, but she doesn't seem entirely sure what it is once she puts it out there. Maybe just that she's here despite everything. Even if she was sort of tricked into being here. "I can't say your resignation is really doing it for me." "Want me to tell you no again?" G'laer's tone is wry, but the way that he's rising and apparently starting to pack things up says it might not really be a joke. Jadzia doesn't answer right away. She also doesn't move, picking at what's left on her plate while she watches G'laer do his thing. She finally says, "I guess I always kind of wanted you to give in. I just figured there'd at least be a little passion." "Hmm." The sound is low in the greenrider's throat. "Passion, huh?" As he packs he turns his head, blue eyes settling on her to say, "So tell me how it goes down, in your perfect world? Where does it start?" "Perfect is pushing it," Jadzia tells him. Even in the world she imagines, perfect is out of reach. "It starts with kissing, usually. But you want to kiss me. You want me. You want me so much it hurts not to have me." She draws in a breath to sigh it back out because she knows perfectly well that her fantasies are unrealistic. Her plate is set aside on the log and she twists to reach for her flask. "Some nights it did," G'laer's voice is quiet and the motions of stowing gear into sacks slows for a moment as he reflects. "Actually, I should thank you. It's because of you I started taking bounty hunting more seriously. Had to get out and away from the Hold, had to have something more than herb collecting and blending to occupy my thoughts at night or I'd've been liable to invent excuses to drag you from your cot in the barracks in the middle of the night and have my way with you." His chuckle is low. "It was easier to be away. There's only so much exercise a man can do and even exhaustion doesn't stem all desires." He hasn't looked at her while he admits this, but it sounds genuine. It's probably not just him trying to keep her distracted from her flask. With her flask clutched safely in her fingers, Jadzia listens because there aren't a lot of other options. But the way she watches him is more than a little suspicious. Even if he looked at her, it would be difficult to tell whether or not she believes him. But that's not really what matters. What matters is, "What's stopping you now?" He glances toward her. "Not sure really. Something doesn't feel quite right." G'laer studies her face then, as if the answer might be there. "Maybe I'm afraid it can't live up, like Savroveth's mind and whatever's in that flask. Or maybe I'm just a coward." He seems to be giving this last some measure of real consideration. That makes Jadzia's jaw clench like she's trying to restrain herself from something. But then she drops the flask and she's on her feet, making her way toward the greenrider until she's standing in front of him. "You said I could have a kiss instead of a question. Kiss me." To G'laer's credit, he does, and it's not just the peck he could of pussied out with. He pulls her against him with one arm around her waist and the other on the back of her neck, fingertips in her hair. Maybe the kiss doesn't live up to some fantasies, but there's enough passion there to make his words seem true enough. Eventually, but not at once, he does stop, his breath ragged when he pulls his head away. Even if it is him kissing her, like she told him to, Jadzia has never really been a passive participant in these sorts of things. She kisses him back, arms around his neck, in ways that are meant to make him want to keep kissing her. She lets him pull his head away without protest when he does, but that's when her hands slide down the length of his torso toward the laces of his pants while she watches his face. "On a first date, Jadzi?" G'laer asks, his tone wry with the implication of false surprise, but his hands aren't moving to stop her. They're also not moving to help her or to move things along in the direction she's apparently intending to go. "I don't even usually wait for that." That would be difficult to do since Jadzia doesn't generally date people. And she's apparently not going to wait now before she's slipping a hand into his pants to try to make him more interested in what she wants to do if he isn't already. He's not uninterested, to be sure. G'laer doesn't resist her hand. He's probably not even thinking of gross things that would hinder her interests. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks quietly, almost sternly. "Now? Here? Maybe somewhere with less sand would be better?" "Of course somewhere with less sand would be better. But we're here now. And I want this now." Because if they wait, one of them will definitely come up with some excuse to keep waiting. Jadzia watches him for another moment, hand moving slowly but purposefully before she starts sinking down onto her knees to pull the front of his pants open. The greenrider shifts a hand to cover hers, not pulling hers away, just seeking to still it. "You know we're dragonriders. It'll take all of fifteen--" G'laer glances to the water where Teisyth is still stalking Savroveth in the most unstealthy fashion imaginable, "-- twenty," he corrects, "minutes to get packed up and back to one of our weyrs. Where there is a lot less sand." "If we go back to one of our weyrs, are you going to let me fuck you then or are you going to--" Jadzia cuts herself off but she doesn't rise back to her feet yet and she nudges G'laer's hand away if he'll let her. G'laer's hand doesn't move; his grip becomes more firm. "I promise. When we get back to the weyr, you can have whatever you want from me." The greenrider's fingers start to shift to remove her hand. He doesn't sound like he's lying to her. The look Jadzia gives G'laer is not trusting. It might even be a little bit annoyed, but probably not for the most obvious of reasons. She pulls her hand away from the one trying to move it and she's back on her feet in the next moment, turning away for him to deal with his own laces while she first grabs her flask and then starts sorting out her straps. "C'mon, Sav!" She yells, unnecessarily, at the dragon. "We're going home." "Your place or mine?" is all G'laer has to say once the straps are on and the makeshift camp that was supposed to be a nice date is broken down. It didn't take much. There's a noticeable hesitation before Jadzia says anything. Even Savroveth turns his head to look at her as she fiddles with a bit of his straps that are already on. She moves to mount before she finally speaks, the brown shifting his weight in preparation for taking off. "Forget it. Go home." Or wherever. She probably doesn't care. Or she's trying not to. And that's when Savroveth launches himself into the sky, no doubt at Jadzia's orders, and blinks between once they've hit the right altitude. Great date. "Your place it is." G'laer says, whether she hears him or not before they're off. That's exactly where he-- they go, whether Jadzia precedes or joins them or not. Home is where Jadzia goes. It wouldn't do to have feelings in public where someone might see her. Savroveth is still in his straps on the ledge when the green pair arrives. He glances toward the inner weyr but he doesn't get in the way or anything silly like that. Even if Jadzia probably wishes he would, considering she's curled up on her bed and hugging one of her pillows close with her flask nearby. G'laer doesn't bother with words. His limbs are at the ready to meet with violence, but he probably hopes Savroveth has warned her or that the sound of his footsteps (purposefully audible) tip her off, because when he arrives he moves straight for the bed, straight for the woman on it, reaching to try to pull her away from the pillow and into his arms and his kiss. Her initial reaction holds the potential for violence. There's tension as he pulls at her, hands moving against him. But if that doesn't deter him, Jadzia relaxes somewhat in the following moments; enough to kiss him back and stop pushing against him, at any rate. No, G'laer seems to be serious this time. He's not making a token attempt for her to reject. This is the real deal, but he's not in a hurry. Once she's on board, the kissing slows but not in a way that suggests he's about to stop, but in a way that suggests foreplay is in the cards. He does intend to leave the bed, to take them both over to that private bath of hers to deal with any residual sand before things get more serious. Jadzia can think about things later. Thinking would just get in the way now, though, so she doesn't do a lot of it as she and G'laer end up in the bath. Despite her haste earlier, the brownrider doesn't seem to be in as big of a hurry now that they seem to have committed to this happening. But that doesn't mean she doesn't try to keep them in as close of contact as possible, teasing without demanding more just yet. The baths provide them with a bit of a lull. Not that there isn't her straddling his lap or his hands sliding across her skin, killing two birds as he helps rid any pesky sand and continues his mission to turn her on, but as his hands slide down to her thighs, he asks quietly. "Who do you want me to be today?" She has to lean back for a moment to look at him, trying to judge what that question actually means. And what it could mean. But Jadzia already knows her answer as she tilts her head to press a kiss or two along his jaw toward his ear, biting gently before she asks, "Can't you just be you?" "We haven't had such great luck with 'me' in the past," G'laer points out, even as one hand slides to her inner thigh and up. "I want you, G'laer. Not someone you're pretending to be. Unless you're telling me you'd rather I be someone else, too." Despite that that could come out in a pretty bitchy way, it doesn't sound like something she's not willing to do. "A lot of days that could be so. Sometimes I even wish I was less of an asshole." That last is wry. "But if I'm what you want..." Then presumably that's what he'll give her. G'laer couldn't say more if he wanted to because he's leaning in to start at her collarbone and trail kisses downward even as his fingers start a gentle but thorough exploration of parts below the water's surface. He's probably just looking for sand. Or maybe buried treasure. "Sometimes I wish you were less of an asshole, too," admits Jadzia, but her voice is quiet and not entirely serious. He's always been an asshole and she likes him anyway, so maybe that's just part of what she likes about him. Between his mouth and his fingers, though, Jadzia doesn't have the breath, or focus, for many more words just now. If G'laer weren't so selfish, he'd make this awful. He'd make it quick and so lousy she'd never want to be with him again even if she likes that he's an asshole. But G'laer is selfish. He's been waiting for this almost as long as she has. So he takes his time. He's not holding back though. It's close to making love, though not quite. Hours have drawn on and the only thing that rouses G'laer from his satisfied doze is the growl of his stomach. Jadzia is awake, watching him, when G'laer does rouse. How long she's been watching him is anyone's guess, but she might as well take advantage of it while she can. So she did. "That was okay," she tells him, deadpan and quite serious. "For a man your age." "Mm," G'laer's answering rumble is a little raspy. He doesn't, as is tradition, rise to her bait, beyond saying, "Well, good that we don't have to do it again, since it was just okay." See how nicely that works out? Then he's stretching. "Mmhmm," Jadzia agrees with a hum, except that she's moving her hands and feet against him as he stretches in a mostly futile attempt to try pushing him toward the edge of the bed. It's really a shame that she's not going to get to push him to the floor. He might let her. She might regret this course though, because it forces into his conscious awareness of reflexes too long wired into him to ignore. The openness that was is diminished, and by no small part. G'laer's hand flies to try to catch up hers in a defensive move that displays none of the gentility of their congress. Jadzia's reaction is subdued when he catches her hand, either because she's still slow from their fun or because she knows, innately, that she's no match for the greenrider. The pushing stops, though, and the brownrider goes still as she looks at him, something unconsciously challenging in her blue eyes. G'laer looks at her in a way that should be familiar. Every time she tried to challenge him in his office or wherever else he had to dress her down in their former shared life, there was this look: stonewalling. She'll not get a rise from him now. "I'm hungry." It's not exactly the confessions of love she might have hoped to heard after such a long awaited act, but there it is. "Want to help me unload Teisyth?" There was food there, wasn't there? Some hours ago? It's probably still fine. "Unless you're planning on us fucking again once you're done, you can go unload her at your own weyr." Jadzia twists her hand away from G'laer's grasp, starting to push herself up with her gaze casting about for wherever her flask has gotten off to. If she's supposed to be hoping for confessions of love, she's not putting on a good show of it. "Well, I wouldn't want to put you out." G'laer answers the blonde with just the barest hint of amusement. Since he was just okay and all. He stretches again as he gets up, not seeming to mind relinquishing her hand, especially since he'll need his to find his clothes and put them on in some sort of not-entirely-untidy arrangement. "Good," is her answer to that, turning eyes on him for a few moments to watch as he gathers his clothes. By the time he's putting them on, though, Jadzia has found her flask and unscrewed it to take a healthy drink. "It was good," she finally allows, though she sounds a little put out by this fact. "I kind of wish it wasn't. But thanks." For finally giving in, obviously. "If you want we could do it again I can make sure it sucks." G'laer offers without any sign whether he's kidding or not as he approaches her. Jadzia slips off of her bed to stand when he makes to approach, flask already recapped and left behind on her bed. "No, thanks," as though it were a very tempting offer. Except not. "It'd be nice to have one good memory of you before I smother you in your sleep." Good times. "Shut up," is pretty direct, and just in case she thinks to protest, G'laer silences her lips with a kiss, enfolding her in his arms. This moment might be that good memory more than all the rest. It seems he doesn't plan on speaking again before he heads toward the ledge. She probably thinks to protest, but there's something about G'laer's damned lips that do a fantastic job of keeping her quiet. Except for the small sound she makes when it's over and he's leaving. Jadzia doesn't follow him, but she watches the spot where she sees him last for several minutes before pulling herself together and turning away to find something stronger to drink. |
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