Who: Aerishani, O’rlen, Amorenth, Roreliuth
When: Month 10, 200 AT
Where: Flight Weyr, Honshu Weyrhold
What: The aftermath of Amorenth’s maiden flight.
Notes: It’s a flight. Clothes are vanished.
In the end, it was a bloody affair. Amorenth needed no encouragement to blood her kills, but she certainly needed restraining in order to get her to //stop//, Aerishani’s commands shouted at her queen both mentally and verbally in an attempt to get her to stop painting the pens and her suitors in crimson before things could get even more out of hand. There was to be no hiding of Amorenth’s disdain for the males who took wing after her, most of all for those from other Weyrs seeking to plant their choice of Weyrleader at Honshu, her efforts to fly to exhaustion and attempt to escape meaning not a terribly high flight, for she was all but tumbling from the sky when she was finally captured. Even if she did not go quietly, Aerishani certainly has done, muddled enough by the experience to be free of her inhibitions and the ghosts of mechanical deeds done out of necessity. The new Weyrwoman sleeps now, lying on her front with sheets and blankets curled low on her waist, her long hair not quite falling in manner as to cover the line of her spine.
There was something to that blood in the air, the snarls of competition, the drive of //need// that pushed Roreliuth to succeed where he’d never thought to before. He’d risen once to chase a green, but had felt the uncertain pull of his rider that kept him from succeeding. Amorenth is a formidable queen and there were many who may have been better suited to her than the kind-hearted Roreliuth but it was that autumnal bronze who managed to do an acrobatic tumble into the gold and twine her against his warm body. O’rlen has never been in a flight bed before – but he has been with a woman – so his treatment of Aerishani was as gentle as could be for a flight dominated by draconic lust. He’s dropped out of his shared mindlink with Roreliuth and watches Aerishani sleeping. He can’t stop himself from reaching out to brush his fingers against her hair and along her spine, taking a moment to soak in the simple beauty of her in his bed.
Amorenth is not so unkind as to abandon Roreliuth immediately, though nor does she seem to invite anything like cuddling, her attention presently occupied with licking dried blood from her pale talons, her chosen spot the ledge that is now indisputably hers. Unlike Aerishani, she doesn’t appear inclined to sleep, but lets her gaze rove over her domain and gives her rider peace – for now. Slowly, Aerishani stirs, unconsciously arching the tiniest bit against the brush of fingers along her spine, a faint smile curving her lips until she opens her eyes and immediately realises that she’s actually in bed with someone and not simply indulging in one fantasy or another. She colours, reaching down and meaning to pull the sheets up over herself with a murmured apology. “…I didn’t… We didn’t hurt you, did we?” she asks, her face still pressed into the pillow.
O’rlen shifts in the bed, turning to prop his head up by his palm as he watches Aerishani stir into wakefulness. He’s momentarily bemused by her question, giving a glance towards her and down to his naked body that he hasn’t gone so far as to cover with sheets. “No,” he tells her after considering her question to check for said ‘hurts’, “you didn’t hurt me. Is it… do people usually get hurt in these? I don’t remember learning about that,” he tells her with a huff that’s half-laugh, half-snort, of embarrassment for not //knowing//. He pokes at her shoulder, playfully, and then shifts from playfulness to concern. “Did we hurt //you//?” he asks, shifting up into startlement as he goes to fuss at her and those sheets. His hand is warm and calloused as it presses against exposed skin. “Can you look at me, please?” he asks her suddenly, concern lacing his tone and lighting his eyes when they make eye contact.
“I don’t know,” Aerishani likewise has to admit, only blushing more vividly as she does so. “Amorenth’s never been a particularly gentle sort… and with all the blood…” is only one reason for her enquiry, though she makes herself give voice to the other as well. “I was told I would probably be hurt. That it would be rough. So… it stands to reason I might hurt someone too.” Dark eyes are wide and staring as O’rlen fusses at her, not in fear, but surprise that he chooses to do so. Rather than provide him with an immediate answer meant to placate and nothing more, she actually pauses to think about it, rolling over onto her back to look up at him as he asks her to. “No,” she decides after a few moments of silence. “You didn’t hurt me. I… uh… I feel… nice. I’ve only ever had it feel… invasive, before.”
O’rlen scoots himself onto his back and further up the bed, meaning to sit himself up enough that he might look more encouraging. He pats the space closer to him, clearly holding his arm out and offering a place for her to tuck in should Aerishani wish it. He’s not forceful about it, or claiming, the ease of his body and his smile showing that he’s doing it with no other motive than to offer her the comfort of his warmth. “I’m sorry it was invasive before,” he tells her, taking the time to blush himself, “When I was younger I would say… I wasn’t very //good// at it. Until a woman took the time to explain,” he blinks, laughs lightly, and shakes his head, “what I was doing wrong and what I could do better at.” He moves a hand to close the distance between them, seeking hers out to hold.
Not quite so worried about her state of undress now that it would seem O’rlen neither finds it displeasing nor so pleasing as to leer and stare, Aerishani leaves the safety of the blankets she’s huddled around herself and shuffles over to try and fit herself against him with the awkwardness of one unaccustomed to physical contact of the nature being offered. “I don’t know that I’d have the… guts to tell a man what he should and shouldn’t be doing in that department,” she confesses, easily surrendering her hand to his. “Not that I suppose I’d know, either.” She tenses, rushing to assure, “I don’t mean I’m suggesting… I mean, we only have to talk with our clothes on from now on. I don’t expect anything else from you. You don’t have any obligation to me, only to Honshu.”
“She was kind,” O’rlen’s voice always seems to have that hint of good humor to it and there’s a dash of laughter at his own expense in it now, “to a very young and inexperienced man.” He lets his thumb toy with the inside of Aerishani’s palm as he listens to her try and dance around the issue now falling between them. “Roreliuth catching Amorenth has certainly brought us together,” he agrees, keeping all traces of humor from his tone even as he fights a flickering smile, “would it be so bad if we wanted to… see what it might be like?” he looks up at her, his green eyes full of unspoken hope. “You’re an admirable woman, Aerishani. You’ll make this WeyrHold strong and secure. I’ll be behind you every step of the way as a co-leader,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side and his curled locks of red fall over his forehead in such a way that he looks far more boyish for it. “Would it be overly romantic and foolish to think we might be able to find more in this partnership?” He lifts her hand to his lips, turning it so he might press an intimate kiss to the inside of her wrist. “We could grow to learn about each other. What an adventure that could be.” There’s no manipulation in his offer, the pureness of his intent mirrored in his gaze and the tentative smile he shows her.
Aerishani colours again, if for a different reason this time, a deeper pink suffusing her cheeks as she confesses, “…I don’t… even know your name.” She doesn’t quite manage to look at O’rlen as she says so, focusing instead on how he lifts her hand because it must be safer, or just because can’t look away. “What happens if he never catches her again?” she murmurs. “I don’t… I don’t want a string of Weyrleaders who think they ought to bed me because I don’t have a weyrmate of my own. I don’t want someone who //only// wants to bed me while I’m their Weyrwoman.” Shifting slightly, she tips onto her side and reaches to thread a tentative hand through O’rlen’s hair. “If it’s what you want… you have to promise not to humour me if you find that I’m not someone you want to be with. I can handle honesty. Pretending? It’ll hurt us both.”
O’rlen’s answer to Aerishani not knowing his name is a pleasant chuckle that starts deep in his chest and rumbles out of him in a little shake of laughter. “O’rlen, bronze Roreliuth’s. We’re relatively young, I suppose. He’s never caught a female before. So… that was interesting,” he drawls with another huffed sound from the back of his throat. He shifts, moving further up in the bed to sit. He draws her along with him if she’s willing, being bold enough to grab her chin and tip it so he might make eye contact with her. “I’m craftbred. This… it means something to me. I don’t say it for any other reason than if we’ve got this journey ahead, and our dragons have already laid claim to each other, I just thought – we could try and see how //we// might get along.” He blushes then, shaking his head and releasing her chin as he scratches at his chin and screws his face up. “Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong, I’m sorry. I’ve likely read too many fanciful tales.” He considers his chest for a moment as his head tips down and he tries to hide his face from her. “Would it be so bad?” he asks her, looking up at her, “was I bad? Am-am I undesirable? If you’ve another man, shells, tell me now woman. I’m pouring my heart out to you like an idiot.”
“So am I. And it’s not… it’s not…” Aerishani sighs and shifts a little to sit astride O’rlen’s lap, perhaps a touch oblivious as to what effect doing so might have. “Listen to me…” Except silence follows while she tries to get her thoughts in order, cheekbones still flushed. “…The first time I was with a man was maybe three months ago. I was told I had to, because Amorenth would rise and… He was drunk and I let him bend me over the desk in his weyr and get on with it. And it hurt and I hated it and I tried again with another rider and it was much the same.” Though she hesitates, she makes herself continue, closing her eyes as she speaks. “And then there was the fire and Amorenth started to glow and the Weyrsecond was insisting it should be him… So I thought I was going to be hurt either way and the best I could hope for would be a Weyrleader who would leave me alone. But you don’t want that.” Tentatively, she dips her head to nose at his temple. “I guess I’m… surprised. No-one’s been interested in me that way before.”
O’rlen’s gentlemen enough that he doesn’t leer at Aerishani as she slides into his lap, though his arm instinctively moves to rest a hand on her hip. He shows no flash of anger at her description of the man who first took her — he’s too much of a man himself to understand how that might have made her feel. Talk of the Weyrsecond draws a flash of concern where nothing else has before, perhaps showing O’rlen’s hesitation to what lay ahead of him in facing off with the forming Acting Weyrleader. Talk of such things eases from his mind the moment she presses her nose to his temple. “Then they were fools,” he tells her, moving to cup her face in his calloused palms and make eye contact with her. “Absolute fools to not know there’s more to you than all of that.” He tips forward then and claims her lips in a soft demand, no dragon-lust to fuel the stirrings of his own body as his lips melt against hers and his hands traipse down her back to rest on her hips and slide her closer towards him.
Aerishani makes a soft sound in the back of her throat as he kisses her, her hands roaming across O’rlen’s chest to eventually rest at his shoulders once she decides where she wants to settle them for the moment, a nervous tremor there that she attempts to conceal by tightening her hold when he draws her closer. She lifts herself up onto her knees so that she can slide a hand up into his hair and tug, tilting his head back to make him look up at her while she conducts a silent, thorough study of his face, eyes narrowing a little as she searches for the faintest trace of deception. Whatever it is that she finds, she loosens her grip enough that she can lean in and deliver a kiss that swiftly pushes past anxiety and uncertainty to demand something more, even if she’s not terribly practiced at any of it. “…I’ll have to get a bigger bed if you’ll be wanting to spend time in it,” is a fleeting thought before she rolls her hips against his.
O’rlen’s answer is laughter against her lips, “I’ll fit anywhere you want, darling,” he tells her, meaning it as he moves sure hands to her hips and hauls her even closer. Her tugging of hair and tipping of his face earns her a pleased growling sound as he groans against her neck before he falls to kissing and nibbling at her flesh. Aerishani will have to tell him if she wants more, but she’ll feel his eagerness in the attention of his hands and lips on her body. If she allows it, he’ll easily move her back onto the bed to pull himself over her. His hands and lips wander along her chest, claiming her nipples to nibble and suck at, before he lets his kisses travel ever lower. He’ll ease her legs apart and kiss below, so long as she doesn’t stop him, intent on showing her some form of pleasure she may have never had from a man who has only //her// pleasure in mind.
That Aerishani has next to no concept of what a man would and would not want to hear from her, nor much idea of exactly how her body might respond to one touch and another leaves her almost entirely at O’rlen’s mercy, the soft sounds she favours him with nothing if not honest – right down to the startled, strangled noise she makes when she realises a little too late just what his intentions are as he moves down her body. She grabs at his hair for an entirely different reason this time, frame taut and her eyes wide as she stares down at him, plainly unsure whether she should be letting him do what he’s intent on, yet, with visible effort, she makes herself let go of his hair and closes her eyes, dropping her head back to the pillow to lie passive until she can’t manage it any longer and her hands fist in the sheets, a litany of half-finished questions and pleas and exclamations uttered to the ceiling. When the rest of the world finally begins to filter back in, she deliberately keeps her knees apart, nudging a gentle foot against his ribs to encourage him back over her.
O’rlen’s enjoyment is a flash of a smile as he takes that foot to the ribs and kisses at her thigh for the pure pleasure of teasing her further. His strong arms have him anchored above her, as his knee gently moves her so that he might navigate inside her. He’s slow, so slow that he’s intent on drawing more sounds from Aerishani, as he enjoys the simple feel of her beneath him and the warmth of his body joining with hers. Eventually he can’t delay the release any longer and when it comes he burrows his face against her neck and groans out her name. He’s a shuddering, gasping, body above hers before he manages to ease to the side. He’s not going to let her go without curling his arm about her and drawing her against his chest. If he were a more eloquent man, he might choose better words, but all he has to say is a simple, “You’re fantastic.”
There remains no pretence to how Aerishani responds, intent on what is, at times, a not so subtle exploration of the lines of O’rlen’s body between the moments when he has her so distracted and yet claims her attention so completely that all she can do is answer him in sounds that grow not so quiet and the sharper rock of her hips into the motion of his. It becomes instinctive for her to hook her legs around him and encourage him deeper, kisses sought and claimed between one breath and another, her fingers threading back into his hair as he groans against her neck, a pleased, satisfied smile briefly curving her lips as she arches beneath him and momentarily tightens the knot of her legs at his waist just because she can. When he moves, she casts a leg across him and settles there against his chest, murmuring, “We might need to have a rule about clothes staying on in daylight, otherwise I’m never going to let you get anything done.”
O’rlen’s laugh is quick to follow Aerishani’s claim, his arms moving to hug her against him. He presses a kiss to her forehead. “If that is what pleases my Weyrwoman, I’ll walk around nearly naked no matter the weather.” He tickles his fingers along her ribcage, comfortable and clearly satisfied beside her. “I mean to serve you and serve you well,” he promises her, the innuendo in his words huskily shared. “For as long as you’ll have me.” He kisses her forehead again and then scoots himself further down, intent on throwing blankets over them both and curling around her much as a dragon twines with their mate once the ground is found. Sleep will claim him fast and hard, his gentle snores the sign of how deeply he drifts, though he’s not obnoxious with the sound. What may come when he awakens, the details of the tasks ahead of them as a leadership pair, will have to wait. O’rlen wants nothing more than to kiss and dote on his new lady. If the rumors that follow the flight are given any attention, O’rlen will laugh off the fact that it’s pointed out time and time again, how smitten he is with Aerishani. “Wouldn’t you be?” is his favorite answer to such teases.