Handle With Care (PG-17)

Writers: Ang, Chelle
Date Posted: 1st July 2013

Characters: S'ber, D'lorn
Description: Dylorth wins another one of Villith's Flights.
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 2, day 2 of Turn 7
Notes: PG17 due to Flight situations
Rating: PG-17

It was a long while before the greenrider began to stir.
He was exhausted since the Flight had been longer than most of Villith's and
apparently he hadn't been handled very softly, either. His body was bruised
in a few places, he was sure. Groaning, he brought a hand to his face to find
a swollen lower lip that might be bleeding. Still, when his mind
automatically reached out for his dragon, a very satisfied, tired, and
pleased reaction came back and he knew he would never lay any blame at her
feet. It was a part of life for him-as he told the weyrlings everyday.

He didn't move much farther since he felt like a rock had been placed
on top of him and he couldn't go anywhere. And indeed, there was a form
draped across half of his back and he wondered who it might be.

The constant pressure at the bottom of his sternum brought
him to awareness and it wasn't noticeable at first what it was.
Groaning softly, he blinked to clear his vision then gasped and rolled off
the man below him. It was D'lorn's elbow he was feeling and he was
quick to rise on his own elbow to look the man over. "Shells ...
D'lorn, I'm sorry," he said as he gently traced the bruises he'd left
during the Flight. This was why he hated winning ... he had absolutely
no control. His expression was bleak as he waited for the man to move.

"Shh...it's okay...it happens." He smiled in the half light, but he
didn't move. "I'll just lie here a moment, though I think." He was sore and
his muscles had been through the ringer. Still, there had been some pleasure
in it. Bits and pieces started coming to him then and he gave a sort of low
moan, though it was hard to tell whether it was from pleasure or pain. "My
congratulations to Dylorth again, of course."

"This could become a habit, you know." Satisfaction radiated through him
at the congratulations but S'ber was quick to tamp it down. He flinched at D'lorn's
groan and looked around for the jar of numbweed that was usually left in the
room. Thankfully, it was stocked. "Remind me to give thanks to whoever
refilled this," he said as he scooped out a dollop with the paddle
left inside. "Where does it hurt the most?"

"To be honest, my lower back. I think there were some contortions and
bending involved and now it's crying out for blood in revenge." D'lorn
looked with anticipation at the numbweed coming his way. S'ber was
conscientious. That was a good trait in a bronzerider, especially a young one.

Carefully controlling his expression, S'ber spread the numbweed over the muscles
of D'lorn's lower back. He took his time, making sure the numbing agent soaked in
completely. "I certainly hope I'm not the worst offender," he said with a slight
grin. "Although, I couldn't imagine you having a jolly roll very often ... as
tiny as you are."

"Hmmm there are other ways of getting pleasure, but aye it's happened before and it'll
happen again. I'm not complaining-it's Villith's choice, not mine." Sighing with relief as
the numbweed made contact with his skin, D'lorn closed his eyes and tried to remember
bits and pieces.

"I admire your attitude, D'lorn. It's quite ... refreshing," the big man stated with a grin
as he set the paddle down and began rubbing the other man's back where he didn't put
the numbweed. "You can't imagine how many have the opposite viewpoint."

"What do you mean?" Curious now, both from a personal and a teaching standpoint,
D'lorn was listening carefully while S'ber worked on his muscles and bruises.

Not expecting to be questioned, S'ber didn't immediately respond as his hand
continued massaging. "Well... not more than a few sevendays ago, Dylorth
caught another green with a rider who was about halfway between the size of
you and me. I suppose I let that get into my head and let myself go a little bit..."
he paused and blushed while looking away. Softly, he continued, "When we woke,
he acted like I'd murdered him, just didn't know it yet. The words he hurled ...
I've never heard words like that before and I've been among Harpers for a
long time."

**How strange...** "I won't ask who it was, but for sure everyone is different and
we all have our issues. When it comes to Flights, though, if we allow our attitude to
inhibit our dragons in any way-it's wrong. It's their choice, and we as riders have to
learn to adapt to it. That's part of being a dragonpair. I'm not going to say I feel like
I just rolled in a bed of flowers, because I don't, but it's not my place to make you
feel guilty for something you really had no control over. Now...under other
circumstances, where I had time to prepare perhaps..." He smiled warmly,
though he understood most bronzeriders didn't understand how it felt to
really want a man that way without draconic influence.

S'ber was nodding as D'lorn spoke, feeling the same way about letting Dylorth
choose who to chase and although he didn't have the same conditions that a
green would have, it didn't mean he didn't understand. As the greenrider
spoke more, however, he began to frown lightly and at the end, pulled his
hand away a bit quicker than was probably polite. "Oh ... ummm ... well ... "
he stammered and dropped the paddle back into the jar. With the last of the
effects of the flight slipping away, he slowly sat up and avoided eye contact.
"I ... I'm sorry if ... if you thought ... well, you're a nice enough guy
but ... ah shells ..."

"It's fine, S'ber. I was just making an observation. Listen, you go on if you
like. I've got to see the healers I think and then I'll go rest." D'lorn had
seen that reaction all too often, but usually it came from the younger riders
so it was to be expected. They were still unsure of themselves and their identity.

S'ber looked down at the cot, sorting through his thoughts on whether to stay or go. He
felt awful for how he handled this situation and finally shook his head.
"No, I'll help you get the healers, it's the least I can do," he said as he
stood to search for his clothes, ignoring the fact that it was another male
sharing the room with him. "Besides, any further encounters at the moment
would only hurt you more and I refuse to let that happen. Come on, greenrider
... let's get going."

With a wan smile, he winced before getting up and gingerly trying to pull his
trousers on. Thankfully, the tunic was an easy affair and he could carry his boots.
"Lead the way bronzerider," he replied easily.

Last updated on the July 2nd 2013

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Handle With Care (PG-17)