Not Playing Nice

Writers: Chelle, Cymiri
Date Posted: 5th July 2015

Characters: S'jen, D'lorn
Description: Villith takes to the sky
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 1, day 4 of Turn 8

High above the ground and soaring even higher, Villith found herself just glorying in the flying. She didn't care about the males she knew were behind her or even about the rain she could smell on the wind. All the green cared about was the feeling of her wings slicing through the air and propelling her forward. She was fast. They would never catch her.

Harloth didn't want to catch her anyway- or so he would claim. S'jen,
through their deep shared bond, knew better of course, feeling the grumpy
little blue's determination pulse down their bond.

**You go, boy**

He managed a semblance of his usual laconic tone.

Turning right, she pulled her wing in some making the banked turn a tight
one. The wind was picking up and pushing against it was giving her muscles a
workout. Relishing the challenge, the green pushed hardily onward,
determined to show them just what she could do.

In the mating cots, D'lorn was standing there watching it all from inside
Villith. The greenrider could feel the mist and the rain that was coming. He
could see the clouds as they rolled off him. He felt wonderful to be alive
and soaring higher, afraid of no one and nothing. The fire was burning in
his belly, though, and eventually it would have to be assuaged. He turned
and looked around at the men standing there and wondered which it would be.

S'jen was thinking something similar. Not quite as pleasantly, either. For a
man who was happy go lucky and not possessive normally, mating flights
tended to bring out the worst in his personality in that respect.

Harloth didn't help. The little blue managed to tuck and roll pretty
elegantly from the misplaced wingstrike of a competitor, but the string of
bitter thoughts he lashed out with were not so elegant.

All the same, the blue took it better than his rider, whose snarl at the
foolish rider in question- or, said a little shred of paranoia, the rider
who'd *deliberately* done it to cut Harloth up- was kept muted only by
flight room discipline.

With a look back at the males behind her, Villith knew the time was coming.
So she went down first, then when it was almost the moment, she pulled up
short and put all of her muscle into ascending. It was hard, she was
straining. Still, she could make it far enough. She could make it high
enough. Screaming her need into the sky, she was a mighty dragon who
demanded a union. Spreading her wings for the last time, she called to them.
They came, but there was only one she wanted to catch her.

Her eyes whirled a quick dangerous purple with the lust whirling in her
ichor. She stopped flying then, barreling through the sky. }:Harloth, come
to save me now:{

Standing there with his arms outstretched, the small greenrider searched
through the circling men. One of them caught his eyes and he waited. He knew
what those hands would feel like and what those lips would do. It was enough
to end it.

If there was one thing Harloth could do without grumbling, it was catch. He
twined himself- themselves- together so there was no air between them, only
hide and heat

A heat echoed on the ground when S'jen snatched at his prize.

Last updated on the July 8th 2015

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Not Playing Nice