Logs:Tender Promises
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| RL Date: 10 November, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, R'oan |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After a very long day, R'oan is drunkenly sleeping in Dahlia's bath. Things get deep fast. |
| Where: Dee's Touch of Pink Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Sex and romance. |
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| It's the bathing pool that is occupied this evening, an uncovered glow casting light and shadow in the room even where the rest of the glows have been left dimmed. Occasionally, softly, there is the sound of sloshing water but it isn't often nor loud. Whoever has ran the tub and climbed into it has fallen mostly asleep, after dumping half of the contents of one scented container into it. His clothing leads in a clear trail, however, with a single boot near the entrance of the weyr, and the other near the entrance to the rider's quarters, as if it took him the whole space to get the other off. And the rest? The rest lead to the bathing room, of course. In all likelihood, Dee could return to her weyr at the end of a very long day and just fall into her bed. It's become something of a recent habit, but she trips over the boot she definitely did not leave there. It requires a crouch and a squint to identify that it's much too large for her. Blinking rapidly, she straightens and eyes the dark clumps forming the trail and follows. When she arrives at the open doorway to the bathing room, she pauses to see what that glow illuminates, then shaking her head, she moves to the edge of the bath. "R'oan," is softly said, sweetly into his ear. There are only dregs of liquid left in R'oan's whiskey bottle, sat precariously on the ledge of the bath near at hand. Luckily, he doesn't knock it when he starts awake, dragging open only a single eye to peer up at Dee. "Hello there, beautiful," he drawls drunkenly, only to follow it up with the exhale of a dry laugh as if it were the funniest joke he's made. Dahlia leans to press a kiss to R'oan's temple. "Hello handsome," she greets in kind with a gentle smile, "Taking a bath I see?" is nonchalant, one hand reaching into the water and cupping some to splash up onto his chest, helpfully, even if it gets the cuff of her sweater wet in the process. "The water is nice," explains R'oan with only the slightest slurs, reaching to catch her wrist. But, his reflexes are slowed. "Want to join me?" The invitation is made with all of the warm suggestion and smolder of grey-green eyes, the barest crooked smirk caught in the corner of his lips. Dahlia's arm pulls away, if only to protect the rest of her sleeve. "Let me undress," answers his offer. "But I don't promise that I don't just fall asleep on your shoulder." That warning comes with a little, tired laugh as she pulls off her sweater, then the rest in short order to climb into the pool. R'oan only exhales a laugh at that, shifting his cheek against stone to watch her through hooded eyes as she strips. Only once she has climbed back in the pool does he shift straighter, his fingers curving around her hips to pull her closer against him, only scented water between them. "I don't care. Just don't leave me alone," he murmurs, even as he presses a kiss to a bare shoulder. "I won't," is easy to reassure for someone like Dee. The pool is only big enough that two makes it a cozy, if still fairly comfortable fit. She wraps her arms around his neck and draws herself close. "Missed you," is perhaps an odd thing to say. "I like it better when you're not trying to hold me at arm's length." "I should. I should push you to those bronzeriders," drawls R'oan against her skin, though his fingers at her hips only tighten to keep her close as if she might move away at any moment. "There's no future here. There's nothing-- You belong with someone young and hopeful, someone who will make you his world." At that, he does twist to look at her, to drink in the young woman with his gaze. "Taeliyth will, soon enough," Dee's tone is wry, but a little sad. "I can't change what I am any more than I can change who I am or what I want, R'oan." She's too sober for this conversation, so she reaches for his whiskey bottle. "I think there is a future here. Not one they'd write about in some silly harper's tale, but something more real. Two people who enjoy each other. So long as you remember I've said so once you sober up. Do we need more future than that?" She wonders, truly. There is certainly not enough left in the bottle to get even Dee drunk, but there is enough to take the edge off, certainly. He answers, so serious despite being drunk, "Two people enjoying each other isn't a future, it's a present. A future involves-- weyrmating and children and monogamy. And one day, you're going to want all of that, and you are going to want it with someone who isn't broken and old." Yet, still, he lifts his hand from the water, trailing drops even as she brushes dark curls over one of her shoulders. The bottle pauses on the way to her lips, and Dee looks at R'oan with a touch of wonderment, "Is that how you want me, R'oan? For keeps?" "It doesn't matter what I want," is the only possible answer that the brownrider could ever give, dismissive. R'oan doesn't look away, though, meeting her gaze steadily. "You never know if you never tell," Dee tells him before putting the bottle to her lips. She takes a pair of swallows before setting the bottle back carefully. "I didn't think you wanted those things. A weyrmate, children. And I thought you said I was too young for you anyway." That last is teasing as she tilts her head to try to kiss his neck. It is only a low laugh that meets the challenge as R'oan reaches to bury his fingers into her hair, curving there as he draws slowly, gently against the locks to pull her lips to a place that he can cover them with his own. Only after does he murmur against her lips, "I have nothing to offer you." "You've already given me so much," Dee answers in like kind, another kiss sought in the wake of words. That, clearly, R'oan doesn't believe. He challenges it silently with that kiss, with the clash of lips and tongue as he seeks to claim at least this part of her. It's a sudden revelation that sees her pulling back from that kiss (which only shifts her hips forward, lest he think she's uninterested), "You think I'd get tired of you," is her revelation, "That I'd leave you because you think you have nothing to offer me." R'oan doesn't acknowledge it, even as she hits the nail on the head so precisely. There is only the flicker of it across his expression, there before he bends his head forward to brush a kiss to her collarbone instead of meeting her gaze. "It doesn't matter, darling," he answers instead. "Oh, R'oan," is so soft, so tender, so understanding. Dee isn't fooled. She doesn't press the point, but she does seek his lips eagerly with soft sensuous kisses. If the alcohol hasn't been too much, Dee intends to take him, as if by action she can make him see her feeling for him. "Dee," is a quiet, almost entreating word. Whatever R'oan seeks is lost in those kisses, as he lets himself be lost in the goldrider with each slow movement, time drawing out between them and drawn even further by the alcohol that has dulled other senses but not this. "No," refuses the entreating simply. Dee is going to show him how she feels, even if she won't speak the words. It's only once she can be fairly sure that he won't want to leave before the act is complete, that it's her turn to entreat, "Come to my bed, R'oan," which is a very different offer than 'fuck me'. "Yes," is R'oan's answer, pressing one last kiss against her neck before he disentangles his fingers from her hair and his limbs from hers, only to drag them both out of the bath. He seems to have sobered at least enough to do that, not without sloshing water over the floor, though he doesn't immediately move away or to her bed. Dahlia reaches one hand to hook into a towel and draw it around his back, rubbing him dry-- as she seeks to go to her knees and show him what she's learned. Drunk, pliable, R'oan only exhales one long, low breath even as he brushes fingers gently through damp curls. His physical reaction is not immediate, though it is undeniable, but it's the way his gaze watches her through narrowed eyes and that soft rake of fingers through her hair that speaks to something else. Then, the tension is too much, before he finally reaches for her wrist to try to draw her up, to pull her towards her bed even as he murmurs, "Come to bed, Dee." She doesn't resist, though she does draw the towel around her own shoulders as they go to dry her back just a touch on the way. Dee drops it when they arrive at the bed, rising onto tiptoes to seek a kiss, to press her body to his, a soft invitation. The invitation is accepted with a slow, gentle kiss, R'oan catching a hand at the back of her thigh and her hip to lift her only far enough to ease her back on the bed behind them. It isn't anything rushed or careless in his movements, not while he watches her even as he rocks gently into her. Even after, he does not rush, partly perhaps due to the alcohol and more due to savoring the moments with lingering kisses and caresses. Dee matches him, feeling infused in every movement. This is love-making in its purest form. In the moment, it's perfection. When it's over, the young woman stays pressed to the older man. She doesn't speak, but she does seek his lips for one more kiss. R'oan doesn't withdraw from her, as if he could fall asleep inside of her even as he catches her lips in his for that last kiss. But even as he shifts so that his weight isn't entirely on her, an arm curving against her back to keep her against him, he murmurs softly, "I missed you, too. I will miss you." "Don't make me miss you again, R'oan, please," Dee pleads quietly, snuggling tighter against him. "I won't," is a quiet whisper, barely audible, before R'oan brushes his lips against the crown of dark hair. He clearly is not going anywhere tonight, not with his limbs still entangling hers and his arms wrapped around her. That assurance makes the tension that had begun to sneak into Dee's frame ease. "You won't have to miss me," she murmurs, sleep suddenly seeking to take her now that she's here and the fragile perfection is still somehow, miraculously still intact. |
Comments
Alida (22:37, 10 November 2015 (PST)) said...
There might be some hope for R'oan, yet. ^^
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