Logs:A Little Romance
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| RL Date: 30 May, 2016 |
| Who: D'vro, Lys, Colsoth, Evyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Evyth finds romance with Colsoth during her second mating flight. After, their riders have an interesting chat. |
| Where: Flight Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 12, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Glossy sex. Back-dated. |
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| It was no accident this time that Colsoth was in High Reaches when Evyth's glow became intense enough for her to take to the skies. Where she was unprepared for her first flight, not knowing what to expect, the second isn't so. Over the time between the first and the second, she's cultivated friendships from seed to blossom, not only within her own Weyr but when she's visited elsewhere. Evyth is a friendly dragon by nature, but Colsoth's presence at her first flight earned him her particular attention while it was still in memory, a heartfelt thank you from the green and things led a natural course from there. There are suitors enough this late afternoon to please the green, enough to make thee flight an exciting and also terrible thing, for in the end there can be only one winner. It's a conscious choice on the part of the green to veer just so, to give Colsoth the advantage when it comes to making a catch. Likewise, teasing, carefree Lys is close to D'vro, her hands reaching out to collect fistfulls of his shirt, her smile sultry and amused. "What are the chances?" is certainly rhetorical, since she means to draw D'vro in, to press her lips against his with shameless want, her slender frame in another sundress seeking to be as near to his as the twining of tails above - green with bronze. Colsoth has been as polite a suitor as a lusty male can be expected to manage given the circumstances. He's quick to take advantage of Evyth's choice, twining himself adeptly around her, his mind a surge of delighted, affectionate relief. He's done this a time or two by his age, and it's not likely to be a brief affair. D'vro, likewise, is rather well practiced with the motions of this dance, though he hasn't been quite so polite, practically brooding while Colsoth chased the green through the sky. Once it's been decided, at least, he doesn't let that keep him from acting on his dragon-influenced impulses. He doesn't answer the words, more interested in lips, and gathering up Lys' sundress toward her hips so he can get his hands under it, pull her up against him and carry her to the bed. Evyth is sweetly accommodating and in no rush to have things over and done with - this is a love story, of a kind, and the best of those are drawn out. Lys reflects the manner of her dragon, but with a measure of spice all her own, teeth teasing D'vro's lower lip as she aids his efforts by lifting herself up, arms around his neck, and wrapping her legs around his waist at the appropriate moment so that they can, with relative ease, make it to the bed and not have any need to interrupt the heated kiss. Once on the bed, however, Lys' hands are working at removing the older man's clothes, only to interrupt long enough to yield to her dress coming off over her head. Their position makes for a convenient landing on the bed, but D'vro is not entirely helpful with his own clothes. Given that he really only needs his pants pushed down a bit to make this viable, he can't be thoroughly blamed. He's willing enough to relieve himself of his shirt, though, when her hands start pulling at it. Perhaps fair is fair, shirt for dress, but it'll be harder to get him entirely out of his pants before he's pushing himself between her legs to seek the same relief his dragon basks in. Lys, playful as she has a tendency to be while Evyth is proddy, must be tempted to create obstacles, to slow things down, to enjoy the ride a little more... But she doesn't give in to that temptation. The overwhelming desire she has for the bronzerider overcomes any other temptation. By the time that her hand has guided him just where he wants to be and the press of him has met the yielding of her, her arms are back around his neck, her hips rolling forward to meet him, a soft sound that is some joining of sigh and moan going to his ear in appreciation of the way their joining scratches that perfect itch. Once he's there, though, she's in no hurry. To Lys, it's as much like love making, as it is to her dragon. There's no shortage of passion, and she doesn't seem to have a strong preference for gentle or rough so long as it's wonderful and fun. Even if his pants haven't come off early on, before the end, she's likely to make a play for them to become so so that by the end they can be as thoroughly entangled as their dragons surely are through the height of their collective passions. If D'vro knew of the sacrifice of her temptations, he'd probably be thankful. Right now he only knows the way they feel together, and that's all he'll probably be able to fully grasp until the end. He's not gentle, precisely. It's difficult to be gentle with that sort of urgency. But he's not rough. The bronzerider is intensely aware of his catch, not just here for his own benefit. It might not be love making from his perspective, but it could pass well enough from hers. And he's not so attached to his pants that he's going to insist they stay. By the time the fire of lust dims to a more subdued flicker, D'vro will have his arms wrapped possessively around the greenrider, one leg twined between hers, thoroughly exhausted by their passions. There's a sleepy contentment in the way Lys fits herself against the bronzerider, the way that her fingers caress softly across his chest. Her satisfaction is a lazy thing and it's all too easy to slip into a well-sated sleep, only rousing hours and hours later when the close entanglement makes for a need to shift positions or become more sore. She's too sleepy to be careful with her movements, so they're likely to jostle enough to waken the man even as she's blinking bleary eyes and turning her head toward him as though to check just who she's wrapped up with tonight. "Hi," is offered mundanely once she registers he's awake. When Lys moves, D'vro does indeed stir. He doesn't seem to intend on speaking to the young woman as he lets himself fully awaken from the fog of unconsciousness, perhaps more than willing to let her drift back off, but he won't let her greeting go unanswered. "Good," he pauses, glancing toward the bowl where no light is shining into the weyr, "evening." He still seems willing to let her drift back off, but he offers, "D'vro," before he's starting to shift into a more wakeful position, sitting up and sliding toward the edge of the bed. "Lys," the greenrider returns as she begins to mirror his movements, sitting up, reaching up to her mussed hair to test the knots with the comb of her fingers. "Leaving, D'vro?" is curious, her blue-green gaze settled on him, following his movements. "Unless you've some protest, Lys," is the bronzerider's easy reply to her question, though his tone is one of respect and duty more than desire at this point. "I didn't mean to get you out of bed," he adds with a glance over her way. "Some," Lys confirms, a small smile tugging at her lips in muted amusement. "You could stay a while," is an offer that might not be connected with her observation of, "You're not from here," which isn't a question. "Unless you'd rather just go?" She inquires, observing in a way that is connected, "Evyth is quite comfortable with Colsoth." Some. D'vro seems unsure how to deal with that, but the rest is easier to address. "I could stay awhile," is agreed. "Fort," is where he's from. "He seems to have taken a liking to your lovely lifemate," is his excuse for being here. Again. Lys watches the older man still, and after a moment, she extends him a hand, inviting him back. "If it's no trouble to you, I'd like to be close, while they are." The way she makes the request is fairly matter of fact, but her eyes hold a residual glimmer from the moments that have gone before. "I believe they've been speaking when we're in Fort on business. Evyth is very pleased he caught." The bronzerider considers it for a moment, then starts to shift so he can recline back onto the bed, reaching for her hand to encourage her toward him. "Are you in Fort often?" he asks, attempting to start some sort of genuine conversation to make this closeness easier. Perhaps more for D'vro himself than for her. Lys accepts his encouragement and shifts over, drawing the sheet up over their waists once she's arranged herself against him. Perhaps that she leans her cheek against his chest makes it easier to have conversation. "Not often. Perhaps more often than you're here, though. I imagine being a wingleader keeps you busy. Does it?" Her brand of conversation might be direct, but it is, at least, genuine. D'vro breathes a laugh despite himself. "I've been told that staying busy is one of my strongest skills." Judging by the way he says it, it's not always a complimentary observance. "I try to join my riders when they out to various Weyrs when I can. I encourage them to do it, so I suppose it's my duty to do the same. And it makes Colsoth happy." His laugh coaxes a smile from Lys, able to be felt against the bare skin of his chest. It's probably instinct, perhaps even residual bleed from the extreme contentment of her lifemate that has the blonde turning her head to press a kiss to the skin there before resettling her cheek. "I like to visit other Weyrs, when there's time. You learn different things by being other places. I guess if you're doing it, it means I'm probably doing something right even if I graduated less than a turn ago," there's amusement for that. "Where do you like best?" He doesn't seem to mind the contact, his own fingers unconsciously stroking the skin beneath them. "Do you not feel like you're doing the right things otherwise, Lys?" D'vro tilts his head to look at her more directly, curious, but he answers her question, "Southern." "Southern's nice," Lys allows, "Nice beaches," which is probably what most visitors who never lived there think. She shifts a bit so she can tilt her head to direct her blue-green gaze up to see his expression. "I'm human," is simple (and yet not), "I think it's safe to assume there's any number of things I'm not doing right at any given time, but I do my best, D'vro. I'm still new to all this." She shifts her cheek again so she can look at her hand as she draws little swirls and symbols with no meaning on his chest with her fingertips. "How long have you been a rider?" "Mm," is his deep, rumbling agreement in regards to Southern's beaches. "That doesn't mean that you're doing anything wrong," he says. There's some sense that D'vro assumes she knows this full well, but perhaps could benefit from hearing someone else say it. "I Impressed Colsoth a little over two decades ago." That draws a laugh from Lys. She pushes herself up rather abruptly, but only because she's moving to swing a knee over him so she can straddle him, letting the sheet fall away, her smile lighting her face. There's a little edge of mischief to her look as she tosses her head to move her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'm a little over two decades old. He might be older than I am." D'vro certainly is. "I think it's the prerogative of the young to make mistakes and do things wrong. How else do we learn? Haven't you made mistakes, D'vro?" Her voice has become more animated, a sweet teasing to the way she addresses the question. He doesn't protest the movement that settles her on top of him. Far be it from D'vro to tell a woman how she ought to behave, though if she expects him to be moved to distraction, she might be disappointed. The bronzerider tucks an arm behind his head, the other bent to rest his hand over his stomach in front of her. "More than I could possibly remember," he assures her with an approving sort of smile. "But they're neither right nor wrong. They only mean that you're doing something." Distraction might've been part of the design, but she doesn't seem terribly put out by his lack of compliance. Lys has an amused smile for his approving sort of one, her hands moving to his chest so she can lean down a bit to examine his face a little more closely. "You like mentoring your riders? Teaching the collected wisdom of your youthful missteps?" There's still a playfulness to the blonde's tone, but also something more serious in the way she studies his face from closer. D'vro studies Lys in turn. He's certainly not a man of obvious insecurities, for all the mistakes he's presumably made. "At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I find satisfaction in helping riders, and their dragons, become the versions of themselves they want to be." More or less what she said. Lys doesn't seem to have much in the way of insecurity, at least not about being studied up close. She doesn't flinch or squirm. Instead, she folds her arms across his chest and leans there, staying close. "Do you not indulge after a flight?" She wonders on an entirely separate topic. "Sometimes," he supposes aloud. "It's entirely dependent on my partner. Some of you are rather pushier than others." A brief smile pulls at D'vro's lips, a reflexive attempt to lighten words that he's no doubt been scolded for in the past. "I only mean to say that I'm quite content in either case." "You don't have wants? Or are you just that accommodating?" Lys arches an inquiring brow, expression showing no trace that she's offended by the words. Still, she can't help herself also asking, "Some of us... women? Some of us... greenriders?" It's only fair to know which generic group she's being lumped into now. "Of course," says D'vro of his wants. Or maybe of his accommodations. Though he chooses now to move his hand out from underneath her leaning body to rest against her hip instead. "Greenriders. My apologies. I don't indulge often outside of this context." "Age or demeanor?" is the greenrider's next question even as Lys seems to make some sort of decision and dips her head down to seek his neck with her lips and (gently) her teeth. "I'm sorry?" D'vro doesn't understand the question. And it doesn't really help that he finds her lips, and her teeth, somewhat more distracting than the simple act of her straddling his body. Lys is probably pleased by that - his distraction - but there's only her continued attention to indicate that, if anything indicates it at all. She does lift her lips away long enough to clarify (though she makes certain the breath of the words cools the places she's just wetted with tongue and teeth as she speaks), "You can't or you won't indulge?" Outside of this context. "I can," he assures her. Maybe defends himself. "And I will." D'vro draws in a focusing breath, lets it out slowly, and continues, "But it's not a large priority in my day to day life. I'm a busy man, remember." Even if it's, you know, by choice. "I haven't forgotten," has some dark mirth to it, perhaps for his breath and the fact that Lys seems (as yet) to need no help to focus. "I'm not pushy," Lys murmurs this into the bronzerider's ear before drawing herself up enough that she can smile at him, impishly. So though she's not pushing, the slight rock of her hips would seem to indicate invitation in any case. "Perhaps you should try." He may not be super awesome when it comes to reading this side of people, but even D'vro can tell that she seems interested in the aforementioned indulgence. "I find pushy women difficult to resist." Literally. Saying no isn't one of his best social skills. But he's certainly not disinterested, both hands firm on her hips to encourage another rock against his own. Quite interested, in fact. "If that's what you like," Lys has some amusement for the notion, but that doesn't stop her from dipping her head to press a hungry kiss to his lips. At least this way, it would be hard to say anything at all. She obligingly rocks her hips again, reaching a hand to capture one of his and place it upon one of her breasts. D'vro probably would have managed to say something were he not otherwise occupied with her lips, but he seems okay with how they end up. When his hand touches her breast, his fingers flex to knead, exploring the way she feels and the way she reacts to his touch. All the better that Lys has distracted them from words at this point then. She leans her breast into his hand surrendering into his exploration. It's not too long before she's slipped a hand between her legs to slide him to where he'll do most good. If pushy women is what wets D'vro's whistle, then perhaps he will enjoy the way she rides him, though after some time - because she's aiming to make this post-flight indulgence last, she's angling to roll them over and let him take a turn. Fortunately D'vro isn't going to have a lot of trouble with an extended indulgence, even if the flight itself was some time ago now. He may not be an overly vocal lover, but he's clearly enjoying himself, unguarded and in the moment. When Lys moves, he moves with her, settling between her thighs to do what comes most naturally in that position. Lys seems to be enjoying herself well enough, certainly she's vocal enough to indicate that at the important moments and she's left breathless and smiling, her hair newly tangled. She leans up to snake a hand behind his neck and draw him down for one last lazily satiated kiss. That done, she falls back on the bed. "Hungry? I have a wingmate who owes me a favor and will bring a tray of food." Even at whatever time it is now. D'vro kisses her, slow and satisfied, but as soon as their lips part, he's settling to the side of her, eyes closed and breath steadying. "I don't think that's necessary, but thank you. I should probably be taking my leave. Not that I haven't enjoyed your company." He turns his head to look at her, genuine. "You should give them a little longer and sleep a bit yourself," advises the 'not pushy' greenrider. "If you don't rather take your rest alone, though, I can catch a dragon back to my weyr." It's a genuine offer. This isn't Lys being clingy, though she might have an interest in not parting Colsoth from Evyth so soon, given the way the green is radiating contentment even in sleep. "It is late," she adds, just in case that helps sway him. He's probably trying to come up with some logical reason why he shouldn't lay down and rest his eyes awhile. But D'vro must be too far gone to come up with logic right now. "I suppose I can stay until they've had enough of each other, anyway. Were you hungry?" he turns the question back on her even though he has no wingmates who owe him favors. "Ravenous. I don't tend to think to eat much while she's proddy. It makes my head feel weightless." Not a worry in the world. Lys smiles, "Will I keep you up if I ask my wingmate for a tray?" which is also, conveniently a way of reiterating the question of if he'd like space to sleep. "No, no. I'm not very tired just yet. You'll be quite fine. I suspect my stomach will complain once I smell food, though, if you ask enough for the both of us." D'vro settles in against the pillow behind his head, shifting to pull the covers at least partially over himself. Lys has a smile to answer that. She's then sliding out of the bed in order to pluck up her sundress and drag it on. She takes a little time to do some necessary things and twist her hair into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. She even comes back to resettle some of the sheets before heading for the ledge. Evyth must have been roused enough to pass along the request and a short time after she goes she returns with a tray. She slides it onto the coverlet between them and settles in before plucking up a pastry. "So is your life at home only duty? What with not indulging often." It's curiosity that passes for light conversation over the meal. D'vro manages not to doze off while Lys is occupied. Rather, he seems to be lost in thought by the time the greenrider returns with the tray, As she settles, he sits himself up, leaning back against the wall or headboard or whatever there is to lean against. "Generally, yes. Colsoth encourages me to be more social when he thinks I've been lax. Which is, admittedly, most of the time." Look at him, trying to have humor. Look at him, getting the small curve of a smile to answer that humor. "So when you get around to being social," whether prompted or spontaneously, "is it something that you generally enjoy or only do out of obligation or both?" The way she sits, she's careful to keep the crumbs as she pulls apart the flaky bits of her pastry to eat the filling first. Lys seems fully comfortable in this act, as if she's done it many times before and never heeded the strangeness of it the first or the seventy-first time. "A little of both," he answers honestly, looking at her pastry for a moment and then letting his gaze settle more properly on her. "Are you a social creature, Lys?" D'vro is genuinely curious as he reaches to pluck something off of the tray, tear off a smaller piece to eat rather than biting as a whole. "Yes," could be all there is to that answer, but after another bite Lys expounds, "I wasn't always. I used to be mean and bitter." There's another bite before she adds more, "I was an unlikeable orphan in a Weyr, and the more people pushed me to be something, the more I pushed back. I never really had love until Evyth, and she's so good and kind and generous to a fault with those qualities that she's changed me, a bit." Perhaps she's never really said that aloud before because she lingers looking at the flaky parts resting on her dress before she plucks them up one after another to eat. D'vro makes a sound that suggests he finds the fact that she was ever mean and bitter interesting, but he's polite enough not to question her about it. "It's fascinating how much they can mold us. I was a shy boy." And he's, presumably, not so shy now, even if he still has introverted tendencies. "And you're not one now?" Lys inquires with unabashed curiosity, giving him a sidelong glance as she finishes off her little bits and rolls to the outside to rid herself of crumbs on the floor (enjoy that, weyr cleaners~). She then sits up enough to pluck up one of the mugs and put it to her lips. "Shy? No. I don't think I'd describe myself as shy anymore. That would make my job somewhat more difficult, I imagine." D'vro's eyes are drawn to the woman as she gets rid of her crumbs, and he finishes his own pastry soon enough. "Colsoth seems quite fond of your Evyth. Probably fortunate that they don't live in the same Weyr." It's meant to be lighthearted. Lys quirks a small smile at his imagining, her blue-green gaze meeting his briefly when it comes before flickering away. It returns though, when he's made that last remark, her lips poised on the edge of her mug drawn up and away as she arches a curious brow at him, "Is it? And why's that?" As if she couldn't see it. "Do you worry for the distraction of their mutual fondness or you just don't want to find yourself here," she gestures to the bed they've rumpled and tidied, "with me anytime soon?" He has to consider her questions somewhat carefully before forming a proper answer. And while he does, D'vro sits up somewhat more properly and starts, once again, shifting his legs off toward the side of the bed. "The distraction, I suppose. For both of us." Him and Colsoth or him and Lys? "I've enjoyed being here. I wouldn't be upset if they managed to put us in a similar situation in the future." He sounds thoughtful, though, not exactly looking forward to the prospect. "High compliments," Lys replies, but with wry humor and a smile that presses her lips together. She shifts to slide off the bed, picking up the tray and setting it aside. "I won't let us distract you much longer then, D'vro. A little sleep-" snuggle time for the dragons, "-and you can be on your way," it's said as a promise and, indeed, Lys sets about the motions that would lead to her back in bed, curled contentedly, in his arms if he doesn't object, to get a few hours of sleep before they're both on their way. |
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