Consequences of a Kiss (1)
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
Writers: Kane
Date Posted: 4th February 2026
Characters: P'yanka, Tembo
Description: Peyanka flirts with danger
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 13, day 16 of Turn 12
The day’s excitement had not entirely drained from Sunstone Seahold, even as evening turned the sea from glittering blue to a darker, steadier hue. The impromptu boat race earlier that afternoon had given the seahold something to cheer and the celebration had grown outward like ripples.
Peyanka had tried to stand at the edge of the gathering, cup in hand, polite smile fixed in place. His father had been in rare good humour after a day of successful treatments, the Master Healer’s name spoken with the satisfied respect of people whose pain had been eased. There were nods toward Peyanka too. Polite, small acknowledgements of pleased approval, as if his future had already been decided and neatly wrapped: a solid son to follow in his father’s impressive footsteps.
But Tembo was there.
Tembo, the dockmaster’s son, his cheek no longer swollen from where the infection had been. Lithe and athletic Tembo, minus a couple molars but full of dock-learned confidence that wore away at Peyanka’s defences one by one. Tembo, who had sat cockily in the infirmary chair and still managed to crack jokes around numb lips with a mouth full of gauze. Who had looked at Peyanka like he wasn’t just an assistant, but someone worthy of attention, who could be teased, coaxed into smiling, drawn into something else… perhaps. And Peyanka wasn’t entirely unwilling. The opposite in fact. He had tumbled head over heels for the handsome, sub-burnt youth and the idea the feeling was reciprocated made him giddy.
It had started small, an easy camaraderie between the two, almost two months back when Peyanka’s family arrived at his father’s new Sunstone posting. The forbidden attraction had caught Peyanka off-guard. A look held a heartbeat too long. A shoulder brushed in passing. Tembo calling him “Healer” in that tone that made it sound like a private joke. Peyanka correcting him with a sternness that didn’t fool either of them.
Tonight, the teasing had come easier. The brandy helped.
It was passed around in chipped cups and stolen sips, warming the throat and loosening the careful stitching of restraint. Peyanka told himself he’d only have a little, enough to relax and be sociable, but not enough to draw his father’s eye. But Tembo leaned close to say something that made him laugh, and the sound startled him with its sincerity, and then the cup was in his hand again, and again, and the world began to soften at the edges.
Tembo’s fingers found his.
Not boldly. At least not at first. Just the smallest contact, the lightest brush against Peyanka’s knuckles as they stood side by side watching two men argue about the wind and the winning tack as if it were a matter of life and death. Peyanka’s breath caught; his whole body seemed to notice in a single, traitorous rush. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t move closer either. He simply let it happen, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shake his ribs loose.
“You’re staring,” Tembo murmured, lips near his ear, voice pitched to be lost beneath the laughter and the surf.
“I’m not,” Peyanka lied while a vision of the two of them naked flashed through his thoughts.
“You are,” Tembo insisted. “You stare like you’re trying to diagnose me from across the room.”
Peyanka swallowed, forced his eyes away from Tembo’s lips. “Old habits.”
“Mm. Dangerous ones.”
That made him glance back, sharp and instinctive, only to find Tembo watching him with a look that was far too knowing for a boy who’d spent most of the last month with a swollen jaw and strict instructions not to chew on the wrong side. Tembo lifted his cup in a mock salute and took another drink.
Peyanka did too, because he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned slowly. The musicians played one last tune before giving up as residents drifted home. Eventually it was only the stubborn and the tipsy left, voices lower now, laughter softer, the seahold settling back into its usual night time hush.
Peyanka should have gone earlier. He knew it. He felt the weight of tomorrow already: early chores, early rounds. His father’s expectations. He should have stepped away while the gathering was still bright enough to hide within. He should most definitely have walked home alone. But Tembo’s shoulder bumped his, deliberately this time, and Peyanka found himself unwilling to part, caution evaporating, caught up in the moment and wishing it would never end.
The path back toward the guest cottage was familiar beneath his feet, packed earth and worn stone, the sea’s breath cool against his skin and doing absolutely nothing to quiet his racing pulse. They walked close, too close for propriety, though their hands were mostly hidden in the dark, fingers curling together when they thought no one could see.
Mostly.
Peyanka kept glancing toward the shuttered windows as the cottage rose ahead of them, a darker shape against the paler sky. A niggling voice in the back of his head whispered danger, danger, danger. Not in the usual, sensible way it might warn him away from say, a hot kettle, but in that sharp, thrilling way it warned him away from something he wanted too badly.
“What if my father’s awake?” he breathed as Tembo’s fingers danced across his hip.
Tembo’s laugh was quiet, warm. “Your father’s always awake. He’s probably awake in his sleep.”
Peyanka huffed a sound that might have been agreement, might have been a nervous laugh. “He’ll hear us.”
“Then be quiet,” Tembo said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
They tried.
They truly did.
Last updated on the February 7th 2026