Not Ready (Part 1 of 2)

Writers: AmajoS, Bree
Date Posted: 3rd April 2007

Characters: Anarya, S'manar
Description: Anarya find herself biting off more than she can chew at the Goldflight.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 2, day 19 of Turn 4

"You aren't!"

"Oh, yes I am," Anarya replied to the shocked denial calmly, her eyes never leaving the mirror as she applied the slightest bit of rouge to her lips and cheeks. Her mother would have a fit, but then, her mother would have worse if she'd any idea what her daughter planned. Not that it mattered - Anarya and her mother hadn't spoken much since she decided to take up crafting and joined the Printer Hall.

It had been the most daring and difficult thing she'd done in her then thirteen turns, but she'd done it. Now, nearly six turns later and with the combined Printer and Harper Halls moving to the Weyr... life had become a lot more adventuresome for the journeywoman. She took a bit of naughty pleasure in thinking what her mother would say if she knew her youngest daughter was openly flirting with dragonriders.

The news of the Weyrwoman's gold Blooding her kills had spread quickly and, on a whim, Anarya decided to take the next step. She'd heard that 'relations' during dragonflight were supposed to be extremely passionate. What better way to further prove her Independence? And surely all that passion would make up for her lack of any experience what-so-ever.

One last touch up and she turned away from the mirror to smile at her roommates. "You should come too. I've heard some very interesting stories about what goes on during a Gold Flight."

Though a few of the other printer journeywomen looked tempted, they all declined. Like her, they were all Hold bred girls and though, also like her, they'd experimented a bit with the more open nature of the Weyr, it seemed they weren't as ready for the next step. Anayra shrugged, "Your loss."

With that, she hurried out the door and made her way out of the Weyr and towards the throng of men standing and watching their bronze dragons prepare to give chase.

The flight was long and exciting, but it didn't take much time before dragons started giving up the chase, leaving their riders stumbling from the circle in search of a willing pair of arms and some sort of relief. A tall, slim bronzerider with bright red hair stumbled into Anayra, his hands warm and almost too friendly as he struggled to keep her from falling. "I'm sorry, journeywoman," he said in a strained voice, his eyes fixing on her knots. Printer... but not a Weyr printer, from the colors. One who'd come with the Harper Hall. Not a woman who knew what she was getting into. His attention was already wandering in search of someone who could take care of his need.

The fiercness of the Blooding followed by the spectacular aerial display had left Anayra enthralled and slightly breathless as she stood with other women amongst the swaying bronzeriders in the loose circle formed around the Weyrwoman. Her eyes were still on the sky when she was nearly bowled over. Strong arms steadied her and she found herself captivated by the look on his face. She'd never seen such a look before.

He mumbled a quick apology and began to move away, but she reached out to catch him. Her fingers clenched in his sleeve to prevent him from going. "That's quite alright, bronzerider," she answered in the sort of purring tone that had brought success before in her flirtations.
She tugged gently on his arm, wanting him to come closer, but unsure if it was proper to simply invite him.

His eyes fell to her knots again. "This might not be the best place for you right now..." His voice came out sounding a little harsh, but the sharding Hallmaster should have told the women who'd come with him to the Weyr not to stand around outside a flight. "I need to go, lady." He reached out to pry her fingers out of his tunic, but the soft warmth of her skin felt far too nice under his hands.

"We could go together," Anayra twisted her hand so her fingers interlocked with his. She hadn't expected this to be so difficult. She was excited though, obviously the more 'violent' rumors she'd heard were completely off. She was practically having to force the issue here. It made her feel quite bold and she stepped forward to press herself against the bronzerider, breathing in his scent and smiling into his eyes.

S'manar groaned as his hands came up to her hips. Maybe this woman had been around for the last gold flight. Surely she wouldn't be pressing into him so delightfully if she didn't know what she was doing. He was moving them in the direction of the Weyr before he'd even finished the thought, his body having no doubts about what it wanted. "You sure you want this?" he groaned as he tried to push her away one last time. Who could _think_ with a woman rubbing up against him like that?

"Would I be here if I didn't?" She laughed, her green eyes teasing as she resisted his attempt at pushing her away. "You're going to hurt a girl's feelings, if you keep trying to get rid of me bronzerider." She reached up and ran her fingers through his red hair as they walked, taking the opportunity to lean her body into his again.

He had no idea how he found his weyr. Maybe it wasn't even his--he wasn't sure he _cared_ anymore. Half way there he swept her feet out from under her and carried her the rest of the way, not interested in anything but how quickly he could find a nice soft surface, and lose himself...

The bed was too far from the door, so S'manar collapsed onto the couch and pulled her down on top of him, one hand finding its way under her clothing as the other tangled in her hair and pulled her down for a kiss that used up what was left of his gentleness and patience.

Anayra reveled in the kiss, which was more heated than she'd ever experienced. Even in her more adventuresome rendezvous since coming to the Weyr, her mother's disapproval loomed in her mind, keeping her from progressing very far. As if they sensed this hesitation, most of the boys she'd flirted with hadn't pressed the issue. This was no gentle, hesitant kiss though and this bronzrider's hands weren't boy's hands. And they were moving a bit too far, a bit too fast.

"Oh, slow," she pulled herself away from the kiss with difficulty.
"Slow down. I'm not going anywhere."

S'manar groaned and tightened the hand in her hair without meaning to.
His voice came out an annoyed snarl. "Do you want this or not?"
Shards, if she'd brought him back here not knowing what she was doing... he needed release so badly it was painful.

Feeling a little nervous all of a sudden, the journeywoman took a deep breath. She couldn't back out now, "Of course." She pulled his head down to resume the kiss and swallowed a whimper as his hands made short work of the clothing between them.

At any other time, the obvious nervousness in her voice and movements would have killed his passion. Part of his brain tried to tell him to slow down, but the feeling of warm skin under his hands and lips drove every thought from his head but soothing the ache that had filled him with Nyith had challenged the males to catch her.

Anayra tried to focus on the pleasurable sensations of his hands on her body. Truthfully, despite the fact that his touch was rushed and not even close to tender, it did feel good. But it was too fast.
Nervousness turned to panic and she struggled with the urge to cry as sharp pain cut through the mild haze of pleasure. She hadn't been nearly as ready as she'd thought.

Last updated on the April 3rd 2007

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Not Ready (Part 1 of 2)