Repression

Writers: Devin, Dana
Date Posted: 13th August 2008

Characters: N'vanik, Traelyn
Description: N'vanik and Traelyn learn a little bit more about each other.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 11, day 13 of Turn 4

N'vanik

"She's gone?" Traelyn asked N'vanik quietly once he'd shoved the curtain back so she could come inside his weyr.

"She went to her weyr," he said. "She made me promise we wouldn't look at her tapestry." He pointed at the work in progress, which was now facing the wall.

She grinned. "I doubt I'll be looking at much anyway."

"You'll be too busy looking at me." He grinned back. N'vanik stepped close to wrap an arm around her waist.

Traelyn couldn't help the satisfied smile that curved her lips as she leaned up to kiss him. For a while there she had felt...shards, she'd felt awkward, out of place--two of the things she hated to feel the most. But now that they were alone, she didn't feel insecure any longer. She had the upper hand again, and to keep it.... Slowly she walked him back to the sofa until he was sitting down and she was standing over him, a rather predatory look in her eye.

"Is the gold going to catch the bronze this time?" The arm he draped over the back of the couch was casual, but the rest of his body showed hints of anticipation.

"The bronze has to work for it," she murmured, inching closer until her knees touched the edge of the cushion. Grinning slyly, she leaned over, bracing her hands on his thighs. "He has to make the effort."

He ran his hands up her arms, slowly, until one of them cupped the back of her neck. He pulled her to him for a kiss.

And she deepened it, hands tightening on his legs. "It seems rather unfair, doesn't it?" she breathed against his mouth. "How the bronze always has to prove himself, even if he's flown the queen before. Over and over again...a battle of wills."

It was just teasing. Flirtatious banter. But it brought up dark memories of constant disappointment. "He has to show her that he's strong enough, that he's smart enough." He gripped her arms and twisted, pinning her on her back against the cushions.

Growling softly, she grasped at him. "And she likes the display of virility."

He let her go long enough to strip off her shirt. "The queen has to prove herself, too. By how she flies." He slid a hand up her body. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head to the side and kissed her neck.
"By who she chooses."

"It is always her choice," she murmured, fingers curling in his hair.

"And everyone sees that choice. Everyone knows who's good enough." He pulled back to take off his shirt and leaned down again, enjoying the sensation of skin on skin and trying to push back the frustration that had nothing to do with Traelyn.

They weren't just flirting anymore. She knew him well enough to read between the lines. Her hands gently slid along his spine to his hips where the cloth of his trousers met skin. "You're not incompetent."

"No. Just not good enough."

Her dark eyes flashed in annoyance, even as she unbuckled his belt. "Loseth is hardly gray in the muzzle. And _you_ are neither old nor decrepit, N'vanik." Meaning that there was still time for both of them.

"Yeah. Plenty more turns left." Of disappointment. He reached down to help her, yanking off his pants.

Her hands then went to the fastenings of her own. "Your sour attitude won't help matters, you know."

He snorted. "I know. Kinda hard to think all positive when you know the guy next to you is gonna win anyway." He thought of the last gold flight, and how U'kaiah had won. Of _course_ U'kaiah won. U'kaiah was everything he wasn't.

Her hand slid into his hair again, grip tightening as she looked up at him. "Stop it."

He met her eyes. "Make me."

Her own narrowed at the challenge--the second one he'd issued tonight. "Stubborn bronzerider," she finally hissed.

"One of my better qualities." He bent to claim her mouth with his.

And she kissed him back hard, guessing that if he was indeed very like her when confronted, he'd want to lose himself in this. He hid his insecurity in himself and in his dragon behind his arrogance and stubbornness, just like she did. And he hid away from talking too much by engaging in sex, just like she did. Traelyn knew all too well that the cycle was hard to break, and she understood. But that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated with him.

He was rough, as if he could drive out the sense of failure, as if by claiming her he could take the things he'd been denied. At first it consumed him, but little by little, it started to fade. By the time he shuddered with release, the frustration had burned off. Laying on top of her, he brushed gentle kisses along her neck, trying to make up for his roughness.

She was silent and still, save for her breathing which was slowly beginning to quiet. Her hands fell away from him and she stared up at the weyr's ceiling, trying to sort out her feelings. Unlike him, _her_
frustration hadn't fled her. In fact, it had intensified. The expression that had been in his eyes as he'd moved above her had exactly mirrored the expressions of other, disappointed and angry bronzeriders who had bedded her during her youth at Far Island. She had long ago accepted the fact that they had used her for their own designs, like she'd used them. But for _N'vanik_ to use her....

He ran a hand along her arm, feeling the tension in her body. Shards ...
it shouldn't have been like that. He didn't look up, afraid of what he might see in her expression. "Trae ... I'm sorry."

She shrugged a shoulder, wincing a little as it pulled at a fresh bruise rising on her neck.

So now he'd failed Trae. That was worse than failing himself. He leaned up to look at her, seeing what he'd feared: a closed off, distant expression.
All this stuff had been so much sharding easier when he didn't care. Use a woman, then send her on her way. Tal had changed that. Traelyn had changed that. But he hadn't changed enough. He traced her cheek. "If you're mad at me, please, just say it."

Her dark eyes flickered to his, focusing. She gave him credit--he'd apologized. No matter how similar he was to the others, he was different in that respect--and different from her. She had never apologized. And it was because of that knowledge that she couldn't be furious with him. Of course she was frustrated--and angry--but those smarting emotions were starting to fade now. What was replacing them was a quietness and stillness as she searched his gaze. A numbness. But that would fade too.
"I never want to see that look in your eyes again."

His head dropped and he nodded.

She hesitated, then brought the backs of her fingers up against the skin of his shoulder. "I've seen it in enough bronzeriders, N'vanik. I don't...I don't want to associate the memories of them with you."

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"You were just trying to repress your own."

He sighed and lifted his head. "Yeah. It's still not an excuse."

"No," she agreed quietly. "It's not." But it wouldn't do either of them any good to dwell on it. What was done was done. And she knew now just how deep his insecurities ran.

He moved off her and sat up. "Sit up," he said gently. "And turn around."

Gathering her stiff limbs beneath her, she shifted around until her back was facing him. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave him a questioning look.

N'vanik smiled at her. Placing one hand on either side of her neck, he started to rub.

Her eyes closed as the familiar boneless, weightless feeling stole over her. Sighing softly, she brushed her cheek against the back of his hand before letting her head fall limply forward, tangled hair shielding her face from the rest of the world as she concentrated on the movements of his hands--and nothing else.

Last updated on the August 16th 2008

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Repression