Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows

Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold

Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold

Elsewhere on Pern
NPC Weyr
River Bluff Weyr
Seacraft Hall

Story Listing
Series Listing

Weyrling Training

Writers: Duskdog
Date Posted: 31st October 2025

Characters: Rhynnan, F'donic
Description: After Calixith’s flight, Rhynnan doesn’t really care to stick around with the winner.
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 12, day 11 of Turn 12

Awareness returned gradually after Calixith’s flight -- not like waking from sleep, but more like an image slowly coming back into focus. It was always there, just indistinct, blurry around the edges for a while, until Rhynnan could muster the energy to concentrate on it. As the brain fog began to clear, the physical sensations made themselves known next: muscles over-exerted without care, bruises given and received recklessly in the midst of passion, the ache of rough sex for which no amount of preparation ever seemed enough.

There was satisfaction too, of course. Regardless of how else she felt about it, the relief of a great need finally sated -- both hers and Calixith’s -- couldn’t be denied, even after the pleasure of the moment had passed. It made her sleepy… though not sleepy enough to want to stay.

The body, warm and heavy and still half on top of her, stirred. His face turned against her neck, kissing lazily, and okay, that was enough of _that_.

She gave him a gentle shove. It didn’t dislodge him, but it _did_ get his attention. “Okay, flyboy, I think you’ve had enough.”

The dark head of hair in the crook of her neck shifted, and a sweaty, boyish face peered up at her. “Aw come on, you wouldn’t kick a man out in the cold, would you?”

“I’m not kicking you out, I’m kicking _me_ out. You can wallow here in bed for a while. Take a nice nap.”

“But I don’t _want_ a nap. I want _you_.” He pressed his lips to her neck again, the hand on her waist wandering up over her ribs.

“F’donic.” She pushed him more firmly this time. He was a young wingmate, and nothing more; she would consider him a friend in the way of any other wingmate, but she wasn’t about to give him any special privileges because of it.

He gave a great sigh -- as if terribly inconvenienced -- but rolled off of her, stretching out on his back. She ignored him, sitting up to stretch her arms above her head (she wasn’t quite sure what they had done to make her shoulder hurt, but the sudden twinge ended her stretch quite abruptly) and yawn, before getting up to gather her scattered clothes.

Calixith slept contentedly in the back of her mind, curled up somewhere with F’donic’s blue. Rhynnan would have to tease her later about losing her edge, letting herself get caught by such a young, inexperienced dragon, but she suspected it had been more of a choice than a surrender. Her green enjoyed the fawning attention of the young and desperately horny.

She felt F’donic’s eyes on her, quiet but speaking volumes, as she got dressed.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” he asked. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise…”

“I’m sure you’d try.”

“_Ouch_. I’m wounded. You’ve wounded me.”

She turned back to him, and there were those big brown eyes, doing a convincing job of feigning confidence while not quite hiding the hopeful eagerness behind them. “You’re way too confident in how cute you are, so I’m obligated to make sure I don’t contribute to your ego. If it helps, though, you _are_ pretty cute. If you were a girl, and I didn’t have a weyrmate waiting at home, I might be tempted.”

“A girl?” He was slightly less cute when he pouted. “You mean you’re trying to tell me you’re not into men? After the way you just were?”

“Calixith and I together aren’t the same thing as me by myself,” she said, leaning over to pat his cheek as if he were a child who had said something adorable. Enormously _wrong_, but adorable. (It was not, in fact, adorable -- it was tiring and annoying -- but she’d found it a lot more therapeutic to deal with her frustration with the topic by being condescending rather than argumentative.) “Cover up if you’re going to stay, it’s chilly in here.”

“Your weyrmate isn’t going to care. It’s the Weyr, you know?”

She didn’t miss how he chose not to acknowledge what she’d just said. “That’s fine if she doesn’t care. _I_ care.” He didn’t make a move, so she pulled the blankets up to his chest for him. “See you at drills tomorrow, flyboy.”

His disappointed groan was muffled by the pillow that he pulled over his face.

Last updated on the November 2nd 2025