Alone Time

Alone Time

Who: Jet, M’tan, Kyramith, Sirhyth
When: Month 5, 202 AT
Where: Court of Shadows, Honshu Territory
What: Kyramith is proddy.
Notes: They do it.

It’s been some time since Kyramith last started to glow, and while moving Between times seems to have knocked her slightly off-schedule, it would appear that she cannot put off the inevitable no matter how hard she and Jet might try. Perhaps it’s the delay that means that Jet is plainly irritable and frustrated from the very moment that Kyramith’s hide begins to brighten – or maybe it’s the worry of what could happen in this still fairly new world. As the weeks have passed, she’s managed to find a mother and her teenage daughters willing to stay at the Hold to clean and keep house, while some disenchanted Fortian cooks have taken over the kitchens. What they’re currently missing is a nanny to look to the children, and while both cooks and cleaners seem content to tend to Safiye and Khyrisan when Jet and M’tan focus on other business, it’s ultimately meant that bronzerider and greenrider haven’t exactly had much time alone. Maybe that’s why, with Kyramith glowing, the children down in the kitchen, and Jet’s temper about to erupt, she waits in the corridor that leads to the third floor bedroom that has become hers and M’tan to literally pounce on him the moment she sets eyes on him, pinning him to the wall. “I swear, if you don’t let me take you bed, I will go mad and it will be all your fault,” she hisses.

Jet has focused on staffing their home in the weeks since they’ve jumped forward – and M’tan has focused on discovering what the underworld really looks like in this future Pern. One of the very first tasks that Sirhyth and M’tan completed was confirming the end of Hassoun’s lineage in the Fortian lands. He’s since focused his attention on the Southern continent, locating what small sparks of thieves and rogues that wander between Holds and Halls there are. He’s yet to gather any to his side, choosing to spend his time watching and documenting the scope of the world he’ll soon seek to control. Sirhtyh’s noticed Kyramith’s glow and has kept M’tan home, which has left the thief playing father more than he has in the last few months. He’s taking a break from them in the room he’s set aside for exercise and training, his desire to stay fit evident with the hours he still puts in practicing punches on weighted bags of sand. He’s sweaty from finishing a routine when Jet pounces upon him as he enters their bedroom in pursuit of a bath. He’s caught offguard enough that her momentum slams him back into the wall and he huffs a surprised breath. “Well,” he drawls, “throw me on the bed and let’s get on with it.”

Jet doesn’t appear to care what state she finds M’tan in – it sounds as if she’s only going to have him sweating for entirely different reasons by the time she’s through with him, anyway. She doesn’t bother with gentle, hooking both hands into fabric to haul him after her, sparing only a moment to slam and lock the door of their bedroom behind them before she seems to forget how clothes function and spends a handful of seconds quite literally trying to tear them off of him. It stalls and frustrates her enough that she gives up on anything but getting his belt loose and his pants down as she pushes him down onto the foot of the bed and amuses herself by using her mouth to engage his interest for a time. However, that only keeps her occupied for so long before she stands and strips out of her clothes without a care for what state they end up in, crawling onto the bed and over her mate to seek out what she needs. She doesn’t try to keep him beneath her, content to let him do as he wishes beyond her initial claiming of him, but it cannot be said that she remembers how to be soft or sweet for the duration.

This is the chemistry that has kept their passion alive and thriving between them – that powerful demand of Jet that drives M’tan so easily on the bed and clothes ripped when needed to free them from the body. Her mouth draws a gasp from him as he tips his head back and closes his eyes, the entirety of her pursuit taking him far away from any other thought outside of the physical proximity of her lips on his most sensitive part. He might’ve groaned her name – or syllables – but words are discarded as easily as clothing once Jet moves up on top of him. His fingers know where to go as his lips seek any flesh nearby. It’s been long enough between them that there is no denying the near-frenzied quality of their lovemaking. He’ll eventually flip her to the bed, moving to gently grasp wrists above her head as he nips along her neck and claims a breast in his mouth. He takes one of her legs and hooks it over his shoulder as he finally moves to completion, making sure that she’s going with him as he once more lets his fingers draw downwards along her body.

Jet actually bares her teeth in a snarl that soon melts away into another sound entirely when M’tan flips her onto her back, too pleased by his possession of her to care which of them has control to do more than supply half-hearted resistance when he claims her wrists – just enough to make him work for it. The words that spill from her make absolutely no sense when strung together, but individually they might be pleas, they might be his name, they might be just be confirmation that he’s doing exactly what she wants. Whatever they are, they abandon her completely when his fingers wander downwards and she arches up against him, her eyes closed as she keens desperately up at the ceiling. Breathing heavily, she threads a hand into his hand and demands a kiss, pressing her forehead against his as she murmurs, “I’m surprised that didn’t set her off.” Indeed, Kyramith is still on the ground, though the facets of her gaze shimmer with violet from all that she’s experienced through her rider.

Sirhyth’s shadows slowly rise and fall as they move on a phantom wind to encircle Kyramith. He’s lounging higher up on the cliffside, nearer the entrance to their wallows. << I will be ready when you are ready >> he tells her, << no sooner. >> He caresses her mind with a squeeze of shadows, flares of red and hues of pink chasing along the darkness. M’tan laughs against Jet, his forehead slick with sweat and his chest still heaving from the exertion of their exploits. “Always in her own time,” he drawls against Jet’s lips as he sneaks one more kiss. He untangles himself from her and rises, stretching his arms over head so he can crack his back and flash the scratches down the side of his ribs at her. His crooked smile is devilish as he reaches for her hand. “Come, darling. Our staff likely heard us and are frightened. Let’s bathe and go about the day. Or night. Or do neither.” He pulls her up towards him and claims a few more kisses along her neck as he tucks her against him, arms warm and firm as they encircle. “We should really find a qualified nanny for Khyrisan and a teacher for Safiye,” he nips at her earlobe, “but…,” he lets his hand slide down along her body. “First a bath.” He scoops her up into his arms, laughing if she protests, and moves off to find them warm water. If they happen to take longer and find more distraction while getting clean… it’ll suit M’tan’s aims. He’ll both fall into a deep, needed, sleep and in the coming days M’tan begins the process of locating more qualified staff to suit their purposes.

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