Stolen Time

Who: Aerishani, O’rlen, Amorenth, Roreliuth
When: Month 12, 200 AT
Where: Galleries, Honshu Weyrhold
What: Self-control is a thing. Shame they don’t have any.
Notes: Clothes remain only partly on.


The clutching party that was hosted at Honshu Weyrhold was one of the grander events that had been hosted in years past – the focus being on the celebration of the new leadership and the downplaying of Amorenth’s dislike of tending to her clutch. Whether or not rumors flitted around about Roreliuth’s stepping in, O’rlen spent a good amount of time at making sure the focus was on the celebration of new life to come to the Weyrhold so soon after devastation took many of their people from them. The weeks after the event have been relatively quiet, what rumors that continue are still ignored by the overly happy Weyrlord. He’s in the galleries today with a notebook, writing things down as ideas come to him. Roreliuth seems content on the Sands as he keeps watch over his brood of future children. With no gold on the sands to fuss, there has yet to be any movement of one of the larger eggs out of the circle that might indicate another gold sleeps within the mottled egg. Roreliuth reaches towards his mate, the crispness of a fall breeze lightly tapping at her mental walls. Politely, he waits to see if she wants to speak with him.

For much of the day so far, Amorenth has been sat on her ledge observing the traffic to and from Honshu, an eye on those who roam near to the hatching cavern even if she would never admit it. Roreliuth finds her watching the beginnings of a greenflight, blood spilled to the earth and holding her attention more than the green herself and the males – her males, //Amorenth’s// males, even if she doesn’t want them – the silver of her tight mental barriers reflecting the same muddied crimson here and there. << Roreliuth. >> There’s something about the way she says his name that makes it clear that he is hers more than the rest of them; that she might even want him, even if she refuses to let him know that much. When Aerishani steps inside the cavern, she’s fleeing the carnage out in the bowl as much as her lifemate is studying it, her steps unerringly carrying her to sit herself down beside O’rlen.

Roreliuth does not press any requirements on Amorenth, unlike some of the males who try and seek her attention. He notes that muddied crimson and flicks his leaves from yellowing green to richer red-gold to reflect back the colors he sees without the carnage. << They are well >> he tells her, tone rich with the pride he feels for their offspring – and for her. Golden sunlight drifts towards her, offering her a glimpse of the clutch of eggs on the Sands. O’rlen shifts when Aerishani settles next to him and makes a half-hearted attempt to hide the notebook from her, though she may catch her name on a few of the passages within. He sets the notebook on his lap and loops his arm about her shoulders, seeking to place a kiss on her cheek. “Hello my love,” he greets her, tucking her in beside him as he glances towards Roreliuth and the eggs. “All is well here. It’s nice to have a reason to hide away inside the galleries. Less people seek me out with their questions. It’s peaceful.” His other hand wanders along her ribcage and brushes across her stomach as he moves to nip at her ear. “We could make it //not// peaceful if we wanted I imagine…,” he trails off, waiting to see if she takes his bait.

What interest Amorenth has demonstrated in the clutch has thus far been primarily for Roreliuth’s sake and it would seem that now is no different. It takes some effort to draw herself away from the impending flight, though it becomes significantly less interesting when the chase itself begins, yet she lifts herself up and stretches before slinking down towards the entryway to the hatching cavern. Once inside, she pads across the sands and idly noses at the nearest couple of eggs. However, as ever, she’s here not for them, but to lie herself down beside Roreliuth. << It won’t be long now. >> Even though she’s spent hardly any time with them, it’s just another one of those things that she //knows//. “No, they seek me out instead,” Aerishani says dryly, words murmured low in O’rlen’s ear as she reaches to nudge his notebook off his lap and occupy said lap herself, rearranging her skirts as she lands her knees alongside his hips. “And if someone wanders in to take a look at the eggs? Or someone’s firelizards are in here?” Rhetorical questions, surely, for she claims a kiss not a moment later. “Is this what you’ve been sitting in here thinking about?”

Roreliuth has a special low-throated croon for his mate when she enters. He watches her nose their eggs and his pride is dappled sunlight through fall leaves. He knows that she is not necessarily here out of interest for the eggs, but her presence is not judged. He nuzzles along her neck and curls himself about her should she choose to lie with him for a time. << It will be good to see them >> he tells her as he curls his tail about them all. O’rlen’s appreciative murmurings along the lines of ‘ooohyes’ as Aerishani straddles his lap should give answer to her question. He reaches to settle his hands on her hips and tug her closer to him so that she might feel where his mind clearly has gone now. “I was,” he tells her with a low-throated laugh, “thinking of exactly this. Can’t Amorenth banish all the firelizards?” he asks, moving to nuzzle his nose along her neck and trail kisses down her collarbone. One hand snakes from her hip towards her breast, his head tipping up to trail kisses along her jawline. “Please?” he asks, smiling against her skin. “I don’t know if I want to risk trying to leave for our weyr… someone might see you and ask stupid questions.”

If Amorenth reaches a paw towards that larger egg to lie with it just within her reach, surely it’s a coincidence, for otherwise she casually makes sure that Roreliuth can curl himself around her as snugly as possible, her head dropping to the warmth of the sands as she closes her eyes. Except the rest and comfort she seeks only in the presence of mate and riders is interrupted by Aerishani’s acquiescence to O’rlen’s request, a snort given as she understands just //why// she must summon the flash of annoyance to send away any lurking firelizards. It’s reflected in the orange that whirls through her gaze as she opens her eyes, in-case any should doubt her intent, but then she sighs and settles down again. “If anyone sees //you// right now they won’t need to ask questions,” Aerishani declares, arching slowly against O’rlen as hands and lips go roaming across skin, a soft exclamation uttered to the ceiling as she tips her head back, hands dropping to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. She immediately grows impatient with that endeavour and slides a hand into his hair instead, tugging to tip his head back so that she can press her lips to his throat and deliver a bite more aggressive than she has been before, lines between her and her more reserved queen blurring when she murmurs, “My mate. Mine.”

Roreliuth sends flicks of his thanks to her, always seeking to ease tension with those around him. He waits until she’s settled again before he drapes his wing over her, noting that larger egg with a thrum of approval. << A daughter >> he tells her, confident in his announcement. O’rlen does not wait for further signal that Aerishani is interested in moving forward with his teased pleading. He groans low in his throat, making it sound more like a growl, in answer to her aggressive bite. They aren’t in a position to linger overly long at this pursuit, the chance of discovery is high enough that O’rlen’s not going to draw out too much. As always, he still takes the time to make sure he draws pleased sounds from her before he even considers finding his own pleasure. Lips on lips, one hand on her breast, the other drifts underneath clothing and along her thighs until he can find a place that his fingers know how to dance along to draw out the reactions he wants from her.

<< Our daughter. >> The rest, Amorenth still largely ignores, too pleased with the potential of this achievement and Roreliuth’s attention to care about much else, twining the tip of her tail with his. With their legacy within reach while she feels safe and snug beneath her mate’s wing, the tension in the Weyrhold might ease as she unconsciously lets that feeling of security drift out over her territory. That same security gives Aerishani the confidence to moan against O’rlen’s lips without fear of being heard, as false a notion as it may be, unafraid to let him hear the sounds he wants from her as she moves eagerly and unashamedly against his hand until she can wait no longer. She makes fast work of his belt and of getting clothing out of the way just enough that she can swiftly give them both what they want, back to claiming with abandon and only half-remembering to breathe between one kiss and the next. It’s his name on her lips as she arches desperately, her nails digging hard into his shoulders to give him some more marks to go with that bruising bite.

The bench only serves O’rlen’s purpose for so long when Aerishani frees him and he begins to take her. He groans at each mark she gives him, distracted from completion each nip given to flesh. He stands in one movement of effort, carrying her with him as he hauls her to the nearest wall. That it’s even closer to a doorway is beyond O’rlen’s ability to reason out, his focus only on flesh against flesh, lips on her collarbone and throat as he uses the wall for leverage. It is wild and rough, the position forcing O’rlen to forgo subtle seduction, as he holds one hand on her rear to keep her close and the other against the wall for traction. He finds his release with a shuddering whoosh of breath, his head tipped forward and resting between her breasts. He’s sweat-slick and his pants got discarded along the way to the wall. He catches his breath enough to pull back, his lips tracing kisses up her neck before he captures her lips once more. He carries her back towards the bench without a word, settling her down before he goes and fetches his own clothes. He returns to her with a roguish smile. “I can’t help myself with you,” he tells her as he sits beside her, “How will we ever get any work done in the coming months?”

Aerishani doesn’t seem to mind rough, for all that the sounds spilling from her take on a sharper edge and it becomes a little unclear whether she’s enacting her own brand of it in turn with the rake of her nails or simply can’t help herself, though her hands turn gentle as he lowers his head, wandering aimlessly through O’rlen’s hair while she tries to remember to care about anything beyond her singing body and the nearness of him. She’s quiet as he carries her back the way he’s ventured, adjusting her skirts in his brief absence to try and ensure there’ll be no obvious sign of what they’ve been up to, even though it means she sits with them short in the front and twisted to mostly lie beneath her. When he’s close enough, she reaches for him, delivering a kiss on the heels of his words before dropping her forehead to his shoulder. “Maybe we’re going to have to have rules about between which hours we can touch each other,” she says softly, smile pressed to skin. “What if we always feel like this? And Roreliuth continues to catch Amorenth? We’ll have to have rules.” Quiet laughter follows, then, “Or go to bed very early every day.”

“But I want you during the day, first thing in the morning,” O’rlen reminds her, chuckling in answer to her quieter laughter. “I imagine once these eggs hatch we won’t have as much stolen time.” He slides closer to Aerishani, looping an arm around her middle and tucking her in against his side. “Roreliuth is determined to catch Amorenth every time,” he tells Aerishani, “as a way for it to be good for the Weyrhold, of course, and not us.” He nuzzles his nose against her neck. “If we were crafters, I’d marry you today,” he teases her, nipping at her ear. “Then we could be a young married couple who can’t get their hands off of each other. My aunt loved to tease the young married couples on the ranches.” He looks out to where Roreliuth has fallen into a doze beside Amorenth. “Life was sometimes simpler without them,” he admits, meaning the dragon’s they are looking at, “but I wouldn’t change anything. It would just be nice… to know I’d never have to share you.”

Roreliuth sleeps and Amorenth capitalises on that fact to lift her head and nose along the line of his neck while he hopefully won’t notice her doing so, even if either of their riders rats her out. She spends some time indulging in this preference for quiet affection, mapping out the patterns across his hide before settling down to sleep herself, leaving her rider to dote on her own mate. “And you wander across a room and I want you, so we’ll have to try and take the edge off first thing in the morning and see how long we can go before trying to undress each other again,” Aerishani gently proposes, turning a little to throw both legs across O’rlen’s lap and lean herself more securely into him. “…I don’t know why dragonriders can’t marry. It must have something to do with land, but is anyone sure that’s actually relevant any more? Maybe we’ve all just been… accepting it for no good reason.” As for the matter of sharing, she’s more direct about that, saying, “Other riders take substitutes during flights. Why not me?” Capturing his chin with her fingertips to make him look down at her, she insists, “But I’d expect the same if Roreliuth chased another.”

O’rlen is all smiles for Aerishani when she grabs his chin. “I can commit that to you,” he tells her, tipping his forehead to rest against hers. “I’m craftbred. It serves no purpose to me to have someone else beneath me when all I want to see is you.” He looks out to their sleeping dragons and gathers her up to his chest again. “Let’s go home for a few hours,” he tells her, moving to stand with her and then laughingly stops himself. “I’d carry you home but that may start rumors we don’t need.” He eases her to her own feet, not letting her too far from him as he throws his arm about her shoulders. “At home we can clean up… after,” he teases her as he angles to take them out of the galleries and towards the path to her weyr. “And then we can discuss what a dragonrider marriage might look like. I don’t want to lead my life hidebound. We’ve technology now, we’ve crafting dragonriders, without Thread… do we need to not let our kind marry?”

Aerishani makes a low, content sound, yet it doesn’t stop her from acknowledging, “I imagine it’ll annoy the holders, whatever concessions the Hall might grant riders in terms of marriage.” Married or not, it doesn’t stop her from tugging at the right laces of her dress to let it slide to the floor once they’ve reached home, nor from lying back on the far softer bed and blankets and drawing O’rlen down with her to spend lazy hours finding pleasure in a more gentle manner than before, sleep caught here and there between more pressing concerns. When she can find the will to do more than curl in at his side, she hauls the two of them to the bath, where she inspects the marks she’s left behind and idly maps out across his back the reasons for riders to marry, list later properly written down and left on her desk for further contemplation. At least they make it back to the outside world without leaving each other’s fresh clothes in disarray, but it’s a tough thing.

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