Logs:Intimacy Issues
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| RL Date: 22 December, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Lys' visit with Pip, she takes her agitation to V'ret and messes up more things. |
| Where: The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, P'tras/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Childhood abuse triggers. Angst. Sex. Back-dated. |
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| Evyth's request to Zoth is agitated. She knows it's dinnertime, she knows V'ret is probably busy, but Lys-- needs him. Will he come to his weyr? Presumably, where Lys already is given Evyth's perch on the ledge. She clears off in time for the bronze to land, leaving her rider pacing the mouth of the weyr, a sewing basket and man's shirt forgotten off to one side, while she just walks, back and forth biting her nails. She hasn't been crying, but certainly the blonde is visibly unnerved. The interruption of V'ret's meal is probably less objectionable than the interruption of Zoth at the feeding grounds. He's probably perfectly content to ignore it, except apparently he's relayed enough for V'ret to know something's up. And so he lands on his ledge looking extremely disgruntled, taking off again as soon as his rider's dismounted. Though he holds out his hands to her, there's something wary about V'ret's approach. "Is everything okay?" Even if he knows the literal answer to that. "No," Lys can at least answer that question in a straightforward manner. She advances to meet V'ret, "Smell me," she demands. "Do I smell like sex or orgasms or-- is there some smell greenriders have when they're about to get a weyr that just starts keying people in to their sexual readiness that I can't smell or do anything about?" She seems genuinely upset despite the ridiculousness upon which that feeling is based. This isn't a weird request or anything, nope. At the bit about whether she smells like sex, of course, he can't help it: V'ret does lean in towards her, inhaling before she's finished the thought. "You smell fine. You smell like you always do. What happened?" Not overly forward about touching her, but hopefully she'll let him at least take her hands. "Did someone--did--" He stumbles over the words, looking more ashen, now. Lys has a disgruntled noise of frustration for the the results of the smell test. She lets her hands be captured, though that seems to mean whatever agitated energy she has zips away from the fingers that were clenching and unclenching down to her feet where she bounces up onto her tiptoes and back down. "Pip happened. Well, no. First you happened and then--" whoever she doesn't talk about it, "--and now Pip. Only Pip doesn't want everything, he only likes me, and I can't be around him because I make him uncomfortable, so I can't even make friends while whatever the shell is in the water is still in the water. Why do you even like me?" She demands of poor V'ret who can thank P'tras later, no doubt. No doubt he will, because that's one question V'ret doesn't seem at all prepared to answer, though at least he squeezes her hands instead of dropping them. Too tight? Maybe. But better than letting go. "I, ah, knew he liked you, but it seemed... harmless?" That wasn't the question he was supposed to be answering, of course. "I'm not trying to trap you. You're very pretty, and... I don't know." His eyes don't really back up that lack of clarity, though. They aren't confused, they're just worried. Lys' fingers squirm a little against the tightness, but not to lose the grip, just to loosen. She looks unhappily back at V'ret, "Aren't you?" Is that a question V'ret wanted to answer? "Isn't falling in love some kind of trap? Isn't that--- everything what you want?" Is he taking it back now? Her raised brows inquire pointedly. Whatever he says next, V'ret's face in the midst of that accusation says considerably more than his mouth possibly could. A muddle of worry and regret that starts to coalesce into hope--right as he draws his hands away to rub them against his face, like that might dislodge all of it. "I thought it was what you wanted." Now they can both look unhappy. "I thought it might make you..." Happy? "A little more whole." His mouth seems to be operating independent of his brain, now. No liquor required. Maybe anxiety is its own kind of drug. "To make up for the things he did, and the things he didn't do, and... it's not like I sat down and thought, yes, what I absolutely need right now is to give another woman the ability to wound me with a word or a stray look." The crossed arms are totally going to protect him from that. Definitely. That answer-- that takes whatever Lys had planned to say next (and surely there was something, some continuation of argument or something at any rate, but in the face of this Lys blinks. She blinks again, and again, looking bewildered. Then she's stepping into him, reaching arms around his neck, seeking his lips. That's easier than words. But words must come and so they do, "Ev," only then they don't. The struggle is visible on her face. "I don't need you to make up for anything anyone else did. What would make me happy is for this, whatever this is, to be about us. I'm not some holder girl with silly ideals of what a relationship is or should be. This should be whatever works for us, so we can both be happy." What a novel idea. Also the ability to unwind his defenses at a touch, it seems. V'ret's arms go around her and he kisses her, but after he seems to find resting his face against her hair to be easier than eye contact. "Sort of wish you were. Just to have some idea--something to go on. I feel like I need you to be able to breathe. What does that even mean?" At least if he's going to be baffling, he's baffling himself as much as anyone else. His dragon lands heavily on the ledge. He looms. Takes up too much space, too much light. V'ret doesn't seem to really notice. "It means you're thinking of me like your lifemate," Lys murmurs in answer and probably not actually because Zoth is suddenly looming, "which is flattering but impractical," she adds, turning her face up to kiss him again. She brings a hand up, too, to cup his cheek. "I like being a good reason for you to smile. I like for you to look at me like you want me, like you've missed me, like you're glad to see me when those things are true. But dragonriders' hearts belong first to their lifemates and then to themselves and whoever they want to share them with. If you're going to love me, love me like a dragonrider." Maybe it doesn't make much sense. Maybe it sounds like rejection. There's a draw of breath that comes before, "And that's what I'll-- do," it ends a little uncertainly, but. V'ret looks out towards his dragon, who seems to have settled there, or as settled as he ever is, and the bronze is considerably more interested in what's happening in the bowl than what's going on inside. As of, oh, the last thirty seconds or so. "Is that... how it is, for you? That you have to choose? More of one means less of the other? I never thought... maybe." This should hardly be the most relevant thought at the moment, but at least the scattered thoughts might be made more reasonable by the way he steals smaller kisses between words. Distractions from the seriousness, distractions from the dragon who might happily take everything from him and leave nothing left for anyone else. If choices have to be made, it's not here, not now. Later. "It's probably best you don't have to see everything that's in my head. But--I do. Or I'm trying to." The kisses are given and Lys doesn't try to immediately answer, studying his face thoughtfully. "Evy's my lifemate. Without her, I mightn't have been able to feel enough to be here," not that she seems to blame the green. "I haven't-- I haven't had very much in my life that's stayed, you know? That's been permanent. Evy is. Evyth is forever. Everything else... it's there until it gets screwed up or until it's just not." Like H'vier. There one night, and then just not in the next moment. "I don't know that I have to choose because it's never a choice." She's not apologetic as she explains, "Evyth will always come first in my heart. But it's not a thing anyone could ever compete with. She loves and accepts me for every ugly thought I have and-- well, everything. It's hard enough to show everything to another person, let alone be loved by them. But she's happy for me to have someone, to share what I can with someone. Thinks it's healthy. There are things that she can't give me." This is all getting very deep, though. "It probably is best I don't see everything in your head, but the same could be said of you for mine. And... yeah." She'll stop there, babbling as she is, blushing and embarrassed. Perhaps she never really showed her depth before, but there it is. All the talk seems like some sort of reassurance, though V'ret does not follow it up with any sort of explanation of his own relationship with his dragon. Like of course it must be much the same, right? He puts his arm around Lys at some point to steer her in the direction of inside, past the hangings and away from the bronze's eyes. "I'm glad she approves, though I can't conceive of anything in your head being ugly. Still... if I can't have all your secrets, I can be happy with some of them." He mostly does a good job not coming off as jealous of that intimacy, because he can kiss her just there, and he does, and it's not like a dragon could do that. It's something. Then he moves to sit down on the couch, patting his knee by way of invitation. "Come here and tell me you love me. Properly." At least he sounds sure enough for it not to be a question, and he's smiling broadly. That Lys' lips press together at his first means there's probably a secret not being voiced just then. Whatever it was is gone in the distracting movement of being guided within. She doesn't, now, press him about his own dragon (though that means nothing to future chances to do the same). Kisses are welcome, even if she complains, "I didn't come here for this," in a way that suggests only token protestation as he kisses her. It's at the knee patting and the request that she colors deeply, fingers curling into her palms and she gets that (probably now familiar) look like she's going to run. Only, she takes a step toward him a breath later. And another a breath after that. It's not the sitting on his knee she has a problem with, since that's easily done. It must be something to do with the 'L' word that she doesn't then say. And so there's awkward silence. The smile falters. His eyes squeeze closed, as though pained--or as though pressing off some intrusive thought. Or an intrusive dragon. Nothing voiced, anyway. V'ret works so hard to clear that cloud away as quickly as it came. "Or don't say it, if you aren't ready." Yes, because he's totally ready and not having any trouble with it at all. He manages to be steady, though he doesn't attempt the smile again. "I love you, and you know I can wait if I need to." The greatest expenditure of effort is the one that has to look easy--though his face is still full of concern. "If you don't want to stay tonight, I won't keep you." Is that Lys' foot wiggling an unsteady beat in expression of her anxiety? Yeah, yeah, it is, just barely off the floor as it is while she sits on his knee. There's still uneasy silence and she's chewing the inside of her cheek. None of this really seems promising and perhaps they would have been better if she had just run away in the face of this new level of intimacy. "It's-- not that," she finally says, fingers picking at each other in her lap, her eyes on them mostly and only fleetingly coming up to look at V'ret's face. "It's..." she sighs, hands pressing flat onto her legs as she passes the mental point of no return and looks at him, "the other person. I care about them too. And I don't know how to deal with any of this. I don't know if saying it to you," the 'L' word, "would make it all worse if--" if she decided she wanted that other person who wants everything, instead. She doesn't really look happy to have said this, she obviously doesn't like disappointing him, "Do you want me to go?" might be an offer in light of that confession. "You're serious." Did he think she wasn't, before? Maybe denial is a force that powerful. V'ret rests his hand on her leg for a moment, near hers, but then withdraws it. "You'd consider..." It isn't a sentence he can finish; apparently it's not something he's capable of keeping his thoughts on long enough to turn it into words. Or his thoughts are too fixated to let go long enough to worry about language. "Of course you would. You should. Consider it. I don't want you to go, but I think you should, before I can say anything else I'll regret." That last part seems to be wholly ignored. "Ev, has-- has it been only me for you all this while?" Lys' eyes are on his face, expression soft, already prepared to understand that it hasn't been. Whatever else might come, that question seems to need answer first. "No." It's more brusque than it needs to be, and as he says it he's taking hold of her just enough to encourage--not push--her back to standing so that he can get up himself. V'ret doesn't seem keen on maintaining more contact there than strictly necessary. "There aren't any other girls who matter, but I can find company if I need it. I really think you should go." Honesty would be one thing; deliberately implying more unfaithfulness than he has any legitimate claim to? Maybe he's pushing her away, after all. Lys swallows hard at that re-recommendation, but she shows no sign of being helpful in getting her off his lap - if he wants it done, he'll have to do it all himself. "I haven't been with anyone. Haven't even kissed anyone else. But..." Always the 'but,' "This other person is a friend. I've known them longer than I've known you. I didn't know they-- I just didn't know. I can't just dismiss their feelings without sorting out-- Fuck." If he hasn't gotten her up by now, she'll get up. "I should go," which is what he's been saying, but she looks very unhappy about it. Physically, no real push--but V'ret is clearly relieved when she finally seems willing to move. "If they're a good person," so he does seem to have noted this vagueness of pronoun, "then you should think about that. I'll be fine." Which is of course what people always say when they aren't fine, but he's managed to keep much in the way of feeling from showing, however much that's required. "Good night, Lys." Apparently, rather than risking as much trouble getting her out of his weyr as he had getting her off his lap, he thinks it a better option to just retreat to his bedroom. That retreat does beg the question of how long it will take before V'ret does something about the fact that Lys is sitting on his couch, distinctly not leaving despite the shoulds on both sides. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty. Minutes pass and stretch on and there's little sign of life. V'ret's fallen asleep, perhaps? Zoth finally takes off and goes to stalk and terrify something that he's actually allowed to stalk and terrify. A couple minutes after that, maybe half an hour all told, there's a stirring, and V'ret, who still hasn't even bothered to open the lights, can be heard in the bath. Water runs--hot, steaming, almost too hot to stand but not enough to prevent him getting in, letting it fill until only knees and face are above water. Eyes closed, left to his own devices, he might just stay there until the water goes cold. It probably doesn't figure into V'ret's plan that Lys appears in the doorway to the bath, to lean her weight against the stone, arms crossed loosely over her chest, once he's in and submerged. "Ev?" She says his name quietly first, then louder if it seems like he mightn't be able to hear. Water muffles sound; it doesn't block it entirely. V'ret could pretend not to hear, but apparently he can't help looking over at her, now. He sits up, uses both hands to push his wet hair back. What do you say, under those circumstances? He looks at her, but he doesn't make eye contact, quickly diverts eyes back to his knees. Maybe he could just sit here and not say anything and let the water get clammy and... then what? Something needs saying. "Tell me a secret." It's probably not how Lys planned to begin, but it seems that this will do. She moves to the edge of the bath as she speaks, "I never believed in love at first-- well, not sight, but... real conversation? -- until you. And I'm very sorry I fucked this up." She seems in earnest. "I love you, V'ret." Simple. Her look is so vulnerable, a person would think V'ret hadn't already expressed similar. "And some part of me keeps waiting for you to say 'just kidding, Lys,' or to just vanish or stop wanting to see me." Is it enough? Well, it's enough for some things. V'ret spends a while longer regarding said knees, then his hands resting on said knees, and then actually pulls himself out of the water, reaching for a towel. "You didn't fuck anything up." Although perhaps he's gotten shy, now, about saying those words again. His process of drying off is vigorous, or maybe that's just a way of burning nervous energy. "Like a dragonrider, you said. I don't have any call to tell you what you should be doing with any time you aren't with me. You aren't my wife." "You can tell me what you want, though," Lys counters, evidently too hesitant to make any move to touch him in his process of drying off, her arms coming up around her middle in a little self-hug. "That counts, with me, you know." But. There's always that damned 'but', "We don't get a say about flights and I don't-- if you want to be with other people, I'd understand." She bites her lower lip, perhaps not quite as no-strings-okay with that as she's claiming. "But what would you do if one of your long-time friends told you they wanted to be your everything, that way. Someone you like and respect. Someone you never thought about like that. Even with me already in your life, wouldn't you-- wouldn't you wonder?" She hopes he would, for so many reasons. "Wouldn't you want me to understand even if I didn't like it?" She hopes. "I don't have friends like that," says V'ret. It might come off sounding a bit short, so after he's managed to put pants back on, he reaches for her, and his hands are gentle. "You..." Finishing sentences can be so hard sometimes. Especially when she's right there. A change of course: "You do. You need to figure that out. And I'll..." He'll take a deep breath, there, before settling on: "Nobody else matters like you matter, and nobody else will, not until you tell me to stop waiting for you." For once, here's a promise maybe he has some prayer of keeping. Lys doesn't move immediately, but once his reach is most of the way to her, she steps toward him, slipping her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his bare chest. "Maybe you should get some friends you like and respect," Lys' tone might be a little ornery, but frustration is only natural when her hopes are freshly dashed. "Being curious about-- it doesn't change how I feel about you. Which makes it confusing and stupid. It's-- I can love Evyth and I can love you and I can--" She breaks off because there's so much uncertainty after that. "What's most important to you to have of me? Of the everything you want. What do you want most?" Maybe she can give him that much. The way V'ret strokes her hair, absently--it's so easy to slip into these habits, so quickly that this proximity has become an old and comfortable thing. "I want you to be happy," which isn't precisely what she asked, and yet he maintains it. "Nothing else matters. I can't go picking and choosing like that. I just want you to be happy, even if it isn't... here." Here probably not meaning his bathroom specifically. Or his weyr, for that matter. "If there's anything left for me, after that, it will be enough. No matter what it is. I promise." Lys leans back just enough to look up at him with an unhappy look (is that the reaction he was going for?). "I can't be happy if you're miserable," is said stubbornly, "and I don't know if what I do does that. What do you want, V'ret?" Again, direct, this time demanding. "What am I supposed to say to that?" A challenge in return. "I want to have sex... as much as possible." V'ret is twenty; the exact frequency probably doesn't need to be established further than 'a lot'. "I'd like to wake up next to you when I can, because I sleep better when you're here." Despite the fact that he regularly rouses at odd hours even then. "I'd like at some point to spend less time studying and more time playing cards, but either way with you. I don't know. What else is there?" Flustered, clearly, by the end. "I don't care for children. I don't have family to introduce you to." She might've answered the challenge, but this time she listens. Lys watches his face as he speaks. At the end, she has a fleetingly amused look. Not the best when the person causing it is flustered already but she reaches up with a hand to cup his cheek and stroke it with her thumb in a soothing way. "That. You're supposed to say that." Well done, V'ret. Lys has more of an answer for him, though, "I want to have sex, with you." At least hers is qualified. "I want to sleep next to you. I don't want children." Ever. "I don't have any family to introduce you to either." Then, "I don't want to be exclusive, yet. I don't want to hear about other people you fuck. Just... warn me away if you bring them here so I don't have to walk in on--" something unpleasant. "But I do want to be allowed to tell you I love you, to sit on your knee and tell you properly," like she didn't before. "There should never even be any reason for you to notice it's happening," V'ret assures her, probably because for the most part it isn't, but at least this gives him the excuse to pretend to be cavalier about the request. He tilts his head into her hand for a moment, turns to kiss her palm. "I don't think it'd be the same moment, now. I just wanted it to be... tender and sweet, the first time." As opposed to with both of them upset. Reality, always getting in the way of a good fantasy. "I wanted us to start off on the right foot. But it was silly. I don't care how you say it, as long as you mean it." He shifts away, but only to let the tub drain and move back towards the bedroom. Lys' expression is thoughtful in the wake of that. Thoughtfulness is often dangerous. It's no less when she shifts to press her body against him and looks up with a tender expression, "Tell me a secret." The way V'ret looks at her, and her so close, this could so easily be a romantic secret. A sexy secret! He probably has those. It could be a convenient secret. An easy secret. He's smiling, he's looking comfortable. But after a moment of pondering her, he says: "I own three decks of cards. Two of them are marked. I can shuffle a deck of cards without a single one changing position. I did pretty well that way, when I left home." And then he's looking at her intently, like he's really not sure how she might take it. "Used to be able to get a man's purse or his keys off him if he wasn't stone sober, but probably couldn't do that today." "I count cards," Lys answers blandly. "H'vier's really the only one I ever really cheated out of anything, but I wanted marks for a turnover dress for the masquerade and didn't know any other way to get it-- well, except things I wasn't willing to trade for a dress." So there's that, but judging by this returned sharing and her lack of freaking out, one might imagine Lys is fairly alright with his confession. If that didn't tell him so, maybe the fact that she offers, "I could help you practice, if you wanted. Carry things in my pockets." Let him feel her up. "Maybe you'll show me your shuffles more closely sometime," she suggests with a small smile. So, sometimes the gamble pays off. Earlier, the l-word might have been considerably harder to get out of her, but V'ret didn't look nearly so pleased then as he does at this revelation. This isn't one of those pat, perfected smiles; this is a grin that renders him suddenly boyish. "Knew it. I knew it, watching you play, and I thought, once we can go between, you know--there are so many things that're easier with--" It's like the excitement is hard to contain; when it finally bubbles over, he kisses her, and hard. Sometimes words aren't the easiest way to communicate something. It's nearly impossible not to respond to such a real expression with a real one of her own. Lys beams at him, pleased by his pleasure. She might have qualifiers or questions or-- but there's kissing. And kissing of a sort there hasn't really been before. Kissing of a sort that makes her (after the first startled moment), just melt into him. If Lys had any thoughts of any kind in the moment before that kiss began, as it goes on, she has none. Maybe he hadn't realized before that he was capable of making her respond quite like that. But V'ret is not above, this time, taking advantage of it. Evidently the easiest way to lift the contents of her pockets is just to pick the rest of her up. All those firestone sacks, it's not that he's put on a lot of bulk, but it's at least not hard to get her all the way to the bed. "I'm going to miss this," he murmurs against her neck when it's over. "The thought that nobody else has been in you like this." It must be that in the aftermath of pleasure the greenrider's mind is not as sharp as it otherwise might be as she murmurs a confused, "You mean when Evyth rises?" She's still breathing hard, heart pounding against her ribs in a way that probably can be felt in his tight embrace (one she seems to quite enjoy). "Then," more measured, though V'ret's not quite breathing easily himself, "or whenever it happens. I know it will." One arm stays tightly around her, but the other hand takes a little opportunity to explore over her hip and stomach. "But for right now, this is very nice. And you're so easy to get going." Maybe he can get away with a few more compliments than usual, while she's not thinking straight. "Are you staying tonight?" "Oh, she-" is all that gets out as Lys' mind catches up with some semblance of sense. There's a little hesitation as she thinks it through. "She has the wrong parts for you to worry about that," is what she settles on, but not more. It's impossible to say if the flush is more from their activities or from his compliment, but either way she answers, "That's the way it should be, isn't it? And I liked... That, a lot. The way you were." Forceful. At least she's not telling him not to compliment her. "Yes," is for the last and possibly out of nowhere is the next: "People can know. If you want. About us." Though V'ret pulls away from her, he presses enough kisses to her neck and shoulders in the process to reassure that this has nothing to do with the subject of conversation. It's just easier to lay down, that way. "She," he echoes, thoughtfully. Apparently all of this has left him much more able to comfortably ponder this subject. "I wondered." But no more on the subject. "That is how it should be. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to feel safe here. But if you like that, I will be a very happy man. You're sure? It doesn't have to be anyone else's business." "You could have asked," Lys murmurs as she stretches out beside him, far enough removed not to be touching him as she stretches her legs in earnest. "I like that," she doesn't need to think about it. "I mean, I've liked the other things we've done, too, but also that. Maybe even more that sometimes," a girl can have moods, it is known. "There were some that used to beat me, when I was younger. They thought it would fix my attitude." There's something briefly and grimly satisfied in her expression as she looks at the ceiling; she must have won that test of wills. "Can't imagine you'd ever do something like that," particularly since he knows now how ineffective it must have been. She looks to him as she supposes that. "Don't think you'd hurt me on purpose, but I'm tougher than I look." There, a secret unbidden. "If you don't want it to be anyone's business, then it needn't be, but so long as you don't expect me to answer anyone else's questions about the intimate details of our sex life, I don't mind." There's nothing uncertain about that, but neither is there anything particularly excited about the prospect. Clearly what's important to her is right here. "I certainly wouldn't change your attitude for anything." It's light, like he's joking, but V'ret turns over on his side to look at her, like maybe he can't quite believe that she could be that resilient. "Sometimes I wonder if I dreamt you. If this is all some kind of breakdown that I've had since Impressing. I feel like I did dream you, before I even came here, someone to understand--" If there was more to that, he doesn't really complete it. "I don't want to turn into my stepfather." A pause. "I don't even want to turn into my father. I want you to be safe." But now he's repeating himself, and he shifts to lay so that he can rest his head against her shoulder. "If you did or are, your mind has quite a sense of humor," holds humor but is telling of how Lys sees herself when no one's looking. "I just want you to be you," whoever that is; it sound like she thinks she'd accept him anyway. One hand comes up to stroke through his hair and it might be that she's feeling vulnerable for she requests quietly, "Tell me a secret?" At least this asking is better than running away, right? "My stepfather..." This are the hard ones, clearly. Just the first couple words, and V'ret's already had to take a deep breath to keep going. "He switched to using the buckle end of the belt when I was eight. But at least if he was doing that, he wasn't going after my mother." He pauses, then, tilts his face to actually look towards hers. "I look at people who seem like they grew up happy and I think, you know, I bet they don't fantasize about hurting anybody. Or about getting hurt." The shudder that passes through Lys is the uncontrollable effect of memory, whatever her similar one might have been. Her hands curl reflexively into V'ret's hair as if by holding him she could retroactively protect him from such viciousness. She doesn't hold so tight that he can't tilt his head and by then she's resumed letting her fingers travel through his hair. "They're also the people," she replies, voice a little tight, "who would piss themselves and stay down the first time it happened to them or someone they love. I'd rather have one of us have my back." A pause, then: "I'm a runner, or used to be. I'm quick. That's what saves me. I don't know if I'd run now. I'm braver now." That's not false pride but hard won life experience. "For the longest time, it felt like all I could do was just... take it and wish he'd hurry up and drink himself to death. I never really did anything about it. I didn't fight back." V'ret turns to press his mouth against her shoulder, and his hand moves to cup her breast. A little bit of grounding in the pleasures of the present instead of the hurts of the past. "But maybe I can do better, now, too." The pause is hardly long enough for his train of thought to shift. "Again," is all that warns of what ends with exhausted satisfaction. Eventually he moves to lay next to her, gather her up in his arms again. "Love you," almost an afterthought. Lys has bleary blinks for him even as she instinctively curls against him, pressing herself into him. She seeks a kiss, a soft tender thing. Against his lips, she murmurs a tender, truthful, "Love you, Ev," and she's probably not even thinking that perhaps that will make up the botched of earlier, but maybe it will anyway. The words might not have been necessary, even. Who was unhappy earlier? Not V'ret. V'ret could not possibly picture being unhappy, not just now, not this well-satisfied man holding his even-more-well-satisfied girl. The kiss is sweet, unhurried, but before long he sits up--if just enough to actually pull the covers around them both. When he lays back down, it won't be long until he's out cold, unless she makes some effort to keep him awake. Stress and feelings and sex and release--after all that, his mind seems content to shut down entirely, secure, safe, until morning. She's still there, come morning, still curled near him, touching him with her back rather than tangled up with him. The waking from Evyth might be gentler this morning but it's also earlier and it would nevertheless Lys wakes with a groan, a shift and then a whimper. Sore? Oh, yes. Sore. There's more shifting required to get to where she might be able to sit up, which means more whimpers, which means they might have overdone it, a bit. Today is going to be a fun day for dragonriding. |
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