The Seventh Wing - 11. Chapter 11

J'day woke to the sensation that something was wrong. He couldn't place it at first, too warm and drowsy and sleep-befuddled to wrap his mind around it. Instead, he snuggled down a little further in the warm, comfortable furs and tried as well to wriggle back into his quiet dreams, ignoring that little niggling sense of dread he felt at waking.

J'day!

That woke him, as surely as dowsing him in cold rain water. He rubbed his hands over his face, mouth dry, throat tight, eyes dry and itchy. Oh, that's right, he'd cried himself to sleep. How horribly melodramatic.

Gib? he questioned, unused to his bronze dragon interrupting his sleep. Gibbrenth knew how little he'd been sleeping of late, but all J'day felt was a great uneasiness from the dragon. He frowned and turned his head, but he was alone on the sleeping couch. The furs didn't even appear mussed, except for the portion tucked in around his own body. Alarm shot through J'day then and he bolted upright, out of the bed and across the small alcove before he could even think of what he was doing.

"F'rian?" he called. Gib, where is he?

Without a thought for modesty, J'day shoved back the curtain. The main room was empty, and the open curtain on the other side let him know that his parents were absent. From the chill in the air, the hour was well before dawn. The packets on the table remained untouched and the bronzerider knew a moment's panic. There was one place left to look and he nearly ran there, forcing himself to walk calmly and control the frantic pounding of his heart. It hadn't been that bad, had it?

A shaking hand eased the curtain open and the first bite of fear eased. F'rian knelt by the bathing pool, still nude, a bucket beside him, a heap of wet fabric on the other side, and a pair of wet, dripping breeches clutched in his hands. Legs bent, sitting back on his heels, F'rian had his head bowed, his fingers so tight on the fabric he was wringing out that his knuckles were stark white against the leather. Hair and shadows hid his face.

Long minutes passed and neither man moved. J'day, caught in the stillness and beauty of the moment, felt uncertainty fluttering around in his stomach again. Only a few baskets were turned to light the room, but there was enough to shine in places on the freshly-scrubbed floor.

"F'rian?" he called, easing in past the curtain. He spoke softly, not wanting to spook the man. He'd startled his weyrmate once, several months ago now; F'rian had been concentrating solely on his drawings, and almost been knifed with the sharp implement F'rian used to sharpen his pencils. Hearing about the trials of his youth made J'day a little more understanding, but no less wary.

J'day's feet made a slapping sound on the cool tiles, sharp and echoing in the late-night, early-morning quiet. Still F'rian made no signs of noticing his approach. Cautiously picking up the bucket and wet brush inside, J'day moved the tools out of the way and knelt in their place. He didn't touch, but leaned in, concerned but uncertain in his approach.

"Rian?"

The leather creaked and J'day idly wondered whose pants were having the life squeezed out of them. He devoutly hoped they weren't his, and in the same breath chided himself for such a selfish, non-sensical thought. Slowly, he reached out and touched the edge of the fabric, tugging gently.

"F'rian."

The hands tightened even more, were that possible.

"I ... can't."

The voice was scarcely more than a whisper, making J'day suddenly conscious of how loud and how fast and how incredibly shallow F'rian was breathing. He gasped on the end of that appeal, hands suddenly trembling, the tremors traveling up his arms to his shoulders. Goosebumps stood out on his skin, as if the body had just been given permission to show how cold it was. J'day could feel the chill on his legs and he'd only been there a short while.

He nibbled his lip in indecision a second or two, and then let out his breath on the question: "What, Rian? Can't what?"

Breath caught on the inhale, sharp, gasping sounds. F'rian shook his head, face still obscured. "J-just c-can-n't!" His body shook violently, the breeks falling from limp hands as F'rian leaned forward, bracing himself on his arms above the floor. He gasped louder now, struggling to force air in and out of his lungs.

"Rian --"

The man recoiled in a snap, arm knocking J'day's hand aside, face tilted up into the light of the glows for a brief moment, deathly pale under his tan, eyes wild, nostrils red-rimmed, mouth open as he gasped.

"No! Don't -- don't t-touch me!"

"Rian, please ...."

"No! Leave ... L-leave me alo-lone!"

Frowning, J'day caught one of those slim wrists, slimmer than he remembered, and pulled hard, yanking F'rian forward and sideways into his embrace. J'day had let the taller man push him away once, never again.

"N-no-oo!" panted F'rian, but his arms curled around J'day's waist anyway, his weyrmate's cheek pillowed on his thighs. "C-can-n't ... can't ... c-c-can't! I can't! I can't!" And then he was weeping, sobbing in great, wheezing gasps, tears warm on J'day's skin.

The bronzerider held his tongue with effort, closing his eyes and running what he hoped was a soothing hand through black, curly hair. "Shh," he murmured. "Shh, it's okay."

That provoked a reaction. F'rian sat up far too fast, face screwed up in as angry a scowl as J'day had ever seen. "No!" he all but snarled. "It's not okay!" he railed at J'day. "It's not 'okay!' It's never okay! Don't l-l-look at h-me like that! Just stop! Don't!" His hands made fists in his hair and J'day was afraid the man might actually be so upset as to actually tear out his own hair. "I can't do this!"

J'day reached out.

"Don't touch me!" F'rian screamed, yanking his hand off his knee, but instead of throwing it to the side, he held on tight. "Don't!" he snarled, and then he was attacking, pushing J'day back on his ass with a suprised grunt, and falling down on top of him, anger bright in his eyes, mouth devoring J'day's lips and tongue hungrily, demanding.

"Oh ... oh ...!" mumbled J'day. He was so hard, instantly, as if the previous night had never happened. V'tos may have been tragically wrong about F'rian, but he'd been almost embarassingly correct about J'day. He melted against the floor, body singing, and that was just with F'rian pinning him down, straddling his hips, and kissing him, biting at his neck and shoulders and chest, breath hissing in his ear.

J'day grabbed at skinny, too-bony shoulders, pulling his weyrmate closer, grinding up against him. "Yes, oh yes!" The words were garbled, eyes blissfully shut, but they were pulled straight from his groin on its connection to the heart. "Oh, yes, shards, Rian!"

There was anger and danger in this, shells, yes, like racing the darkening, rumbling clouds of a thunderstorm rather than winking quickly between and J'day was as lost, as drunk on the sensations filling him as ever he could be. Eyes fell closed, chin lifted as the neck arched, body wriggling and writhing in so firm a grip, nonsensical moans and pleas falling from his lips. He wanted to hold, to touch in return, but F'rian's hands merely tightened on J'day's upper arms, keeping him in place. Bites, nips, harsh kisses set his skin on fire and instead of fighting, J'day gave in even more. He'd rarely been dominant in his relationships -- at least, not inside, away from prying eyes. Long experience had meant that D'toras knew all the right ways to make J'day squirm, but it had never been like this, he'd never desired quite like this, needed like this. He'd never had a lover who could stir him so quickly and so all-consumingly. J'day's body was entirely out of his control, setting him awash in a storm of feeling and touch and mind-numbing ecstasy. He was a hairsbreadth from coming, all his senses screaming out with overwhelming desire, but the only thing coming out of his mouth now were soft, mewling gasps. He'd have been embarassed if he wasn't so far gone as to be totally oblivious.

It was several moments before he realized that the surge of demanding movements and kisses had stopped. He flailed about, confused, mind still drunk, limbs uncoordinated, cold sinking down onto his overheated skin. Blinking, gasping, J'day stared at the ceiling. Thoughts were gone, scattered, his heart thudding so hard in his chest he wasn't sure his ribs weren't rattling. His fingers opened and closed around nothing and J'day turned his head this way and that, struggling to understand where he was and just what had happened.

He finally caught sight of F'rian. The greenrider had turned slightly away from his weyrmate, back against a wall, knees up under his chin, head hidden in his arms. J'day wanted to curse but his mouth had forgotten how, even if he'd had the breath or the mind to remember the words. His limbs twitched but he couldn't focus enough to move them. They flopped around seemingly with minds of their own. He groaned, wanting, needing to move, knowing that the moment was slipping away. If lost, he didn't know what might happen.

Standing was out of the question, and crawling seemed too hard, so J'day dragged himself forward, bit by bit, until he could reach out and touch one of those tough feet. "F'rian?"

The man shuddered, huddling further into the wall. He peeked out over his arms, eyes round, wet, and shining with self-loathing. He glanced quickly away. "I'm sorry."

J'day almost missed that whispered confession, his body steadying enough to let him sit up slightly, bracing himself up on a shaky arm and bent legs. He bit his lip against a self-mocking and still-lustful grin. "Sorry for what?" he still gasped.

"I ... I hurt you."

J'day giggled, and slapped a hand over his mouth as F'rian stared at him again, brows drawn down into an almost frightening scowl, given that his face never had that much mobility. J'day shook his head, hand still over his mouth. His blood was still rushing in his ears, still unable to convince his mind and body of the seriousness of the situation. His face was only inches from those strong, tanned, hairy legs and J'day was grateful he needed his other hand to prop him up, else he might have reached out and rubbed his hands along those lean muscles, threading his fingers through the dark hairs, and probably precipitating F'rian's fight or flight response again.

A needy groan slipped out, however, and J'day collapsed to his back, supporting arm tossed over his eyes, trying to block out the physical sight of his weyrmate, even as the feel of F'rian's hands on him, body over him played out again along his skin and behind his eyelids. He still felt feverish in comparison to the cold of the bathing chamber.

"Eggshells, F'rian," he managed. "If that's hurting, you can do that forever!" He shivered, body curling up, hands going to his groin, head thrown back, and eyes closed. "F'rian, F'rian ... oh ... oh, shards! I love you!"

"I can't!"

J'day cranked an eye open a crack, staring over at his weyrmate. F'rian hadn't moved, except to lift his head, staring down at J'day with a mixture of astonishment, wonder, longing, and a gut-wrenching pain. It might have been physical injury that made the dark circles under his hands stand out or the skin seem stretched too-tight across his cheekbones; but, as usual, his eyes gave everything away. J'day had wondered, from time to time, if F'rian could ever return his affections, but this seemed like more than that. Hope stabbed so far into his chest he gasped in a breath in pain, and then he was up, sitting with his own back against the wall, arm around F'rian's shoulders, holding the other man to his chest.

"Can't what?" he asked, face pressed into a mess of black curls, hair tickling his nose and fluttering with every breath.

"I'm falling apart, falling to pieces, and I can't stop it, can't ...!" Against his side, F'rian still breathed harshly, heart still beating too fast. "You look at me ... and I don't know what you're looking at! I'm -- I'm so --"

"Perfect."

He tried to push away, but J'day held on. "No! No, I'm ... I'm ... dirty." He gave up, sagging against the older man. "Used. I have nothing left, I'm nothing."

J'day moved his free hand to cup a cheek, brushing aside tears with his thumb. "You're wrong," he whispered back, squeezing his weyrmate closer. "You're the one of the most fastidious men I've ever known, and you have everything to offer me. If it takes turns, you'll believe that one day, too. There's nothing you can do or say that will ever cause me to leave your side again. I promise."

Shoulder in against J'day's ribs, F'rian shifted, arms circling a strong thigh as he leaned forward, dislodging J'day's hand to trail down his back. The easy, un-selfconscious flexibility got J'day's heart to pounding again and he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, fighting for control.

He missed the first whisper, his mind catching up to his ears later, making his eyes open again, staring down at the man who almost seemed to be crawling into his lap. "What does?"

"Everything." F'rian sighed. "Everything hurts. That hurt ... I'm just ... so tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of being ... of being alone. That hurts, too."

J'day pressed his palm to the scarred back. "Then let me," he said quietly. "Let me be the strong one for awhile. Lean on me, F'rian. I can do it, I know everyone thinks I can't, but I can, and I want to. Let me protect you?"

More than breath shivered along his thigh. J'day felt F'rian's mouth open and close a few times.

"I've never ... felt ... safer."

J'day let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He ran his hands along his weyrmate's back. "And I've never felt so strong, or powerful, as right now, as last night."

F'rian sighed. "It hurt."

"I'm sorry. I --"

"I know." Strong arms that were still thinner and weaker than J'day liked, squeezed his leg. "I wanted, I -- it wasn't bad, but ...."

"It hurt."

"Yes."

"Do you hurt now?" The answer was a slight nod against J'day's knee. He sighed. "Then let me help you. I like helping you, having someone to care about. I've never been in this position before, let me do it, please, I need to." He could feel F'rian frown, the stubble along his jaw and cheek pulling on his leg-hair.

"I'm not sure ... that I understand."

J'day flushed a deep, dark red, glad for once to be hidden from the piercing eyes of his weyrmate. "I like being ... er, that is, I --" He closed his eyes, leaning back. "I'm usually being the one taken," he confessed. "Outside a flight, that's, um, what I look for, in a partner. Strength and dominance. It's what I see in you."

"Why? Why would you want to do that?"

"Oh, F'rian," he sighed, letting his fingertips trail along the scars mindlessly. "It feels good. It's supposed to feel good, not to hurt. I'm sorry that you weren't ... that I couldn't give you that."

"I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right." J'day sighed again; that had come out far too sharp and the greenrider's muscles tensed again under his touch. "I'm sorry."

He felt more than saw the head shake. "Don't be. I'm the one who's ruined, not you."

J'day sucked in a breath, forcing it out again with effort, suddenly angry all over again, and not with F'rian. "You're not ruined," he ground out, perhaps a little harsher than he'd meant, but he couldn't let the remark pass unchallenged. "Scarred, yes, but there's got to be something we can do to help with that. Scar tissue is tough, I've heard that somewhere, it's just, you've got some in a, well, an awkward place." F'rian remained silent. "And, until you're more comfortable, I'd be ... thrilled, and honored, to feel you in me instead."

F'rian shuddered, breath catching. "I've ... I'd ... I don't know how."

"I'll teach you. Unless -- unless you don't want to?"

The words were slow, halting. "I just ... never ... J'day?"

Sudden tension across F'rian's shoulders knotted inside J'day's stomach. He frowned in renewed worry. "Yes?"

"I can't. Can't do this."

"What? Can't do what?"

"I ... You're going to be angry with me."

"Possibly," he admitted, but he felt more frightened than anything else.

Those arms around J'day's thigh tightened and F'rian shook his head slightly. "I just can't ... do ... this," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I can't."

J'day felt like he'd just been punched. He froze. "You don't want to be my weyrmate anymore."

"No -- Ye -- I don't know, but, J'day? Everyone I've ever ... cared about ... I just don't ... I don't, I --"

"You care about me?" he asked, hardly daring to believe.

There was a long pause. "Y-yes?"

The answer had been timid and unsure, but J'day wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering with delight. He closed his eyes briefly. "You don't know how much that means to me, to hear you say." Then he stilled, understanding now. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "Not intentionally, I swear to you, F'rian, and you can't get away from me now, not after saying that."

"But ...!"

"Hush. You're my weyrmate, and if we never have sex again, or even if you never love me back, you'll still be my weyrmate and my friend. Always."

"Really?"

Realistically, no, but J'day had a couple romantic bones. He squeezed F'rian's shoulders. "Really. You didn't think it'd be so easy to get rid of me, did you?"

"No?" he asked, as if he were still unsure.

J'day tugged on a couple of curls. "Of course not. I told you, you can't get rid of me now."

F'rian sat up, still out of it enough to grimace, hand going to the small of his back. He stared at J'day solemnly. "I really don't understand you."

J'day shrugged, wanting to smile, but conscious of the exhausted fragility in his weyrmate's face. "You okay?" he asked, touching the nearer cheek with his fingers.

F'rian nodded.

"So you mind telling me why Gibbrenth woke me up to find you scrubbing the floor?" He gestured towards the bucket and its stiff-haired, wooden-backed brush.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Are you in that much pain?" Green-brown eyes wouldn't meet J'day's blue ones. He sighed, but it was a fond sort of exasperation. "Before you tell me not to worry about you, it's fine, it's just what I do. Will you let me take care of it?"

F'rian looked sideways over at J'day and the bronzerider blinked. Scared, nauseous, furious, hurt, all those he'd seen. Shy and hopeful? That would be a first. He leaned over to whisper in an ear.

"Let me be strong for you? Just for now? You can soak while I make tea and then I'll give you a massage."

The corner of F'rian's mouth twitched. "Just a massage?"

J'day gave him a quizzical look. "Did you have something else in mind?" F'rian didn't look away fast enough. J'day grinned to see his weyrmate blushing, but he kept his voice steady and serious. "What would you like?"

But F'rian just sighed. "I really am tired. I lay down now and I'll fall right to sleep, willowsalic or no."

J'day kissed his cheek. "Get in." He pointed to the bathing pool. "It'll feel great right now, trust me."

He rose and left, letting F'rian slither into the hot water however he was most comfortable without being too self-conscious. Pulling on a pair of breeks from his bag, J'day fished out a small pouch of tea leaves and pushed the metal arm holding the water pot over the coals before stoking the small fire. When he returned to the bathing chamber, he saw F'rian leaning his arms over the side, curled up on the seat, eyes closed, head on his arms. Resting as he was, J'day was shocked to note the absence of the stress lines around mouth and eyes that he'd become so accustomed to seeing. The younger man looked even younger and curiously vulnerable, making J'day want to wrap him up inside his arms and never let go. If he were a bigger man, he might have attempted carrying his weyrmate, but even as thin as he was now, J'day knew he could never manage it. F'rian could probably carry him without too much trouble, if he were well.

With a frown for the clothing still in a wet, soggy mess on the floor, J'day got out clean towels. When he returned, F'rian was awake, sitting on the edge of the pool, legs still dangling in the water. J'day hauled him to his feet, wrapped him in a fur and used the other to towel off his hair before helping his weyrmate back to the sleeping couch. He sat him down and pressed a mug into his hand.

"Drink."

Then he pulled back the covers on the bed. He didn't want to disturb F'rian after the massage to get him wrapped up again.

"You need to eat more," he remarked, not liking the way F'rian's hip-bones and ribs stuck out.

"I --" To J'day's surprise, F'rian shook his head. He was frowning down into his tea when the bronzerider came back around the couch. "You're right," he said, not looking up. "I just -- I haven't been hungry."

"You're not running anymore." J'day made it a statement, not a question, but F'rian answered anyway.

"No, hurts too much, but I walk. Best thing for a bad back is to walk."

"You walk everywhere," said J'day, eyes narrowing. "You've always done that." He reached out and took the mug, making F'rian look at him. "How long? How long, Rian?"

Guilt hunched the greenrider's shoulders and he leaned away. "Since the -- since I left Igen."

J'day gritted his teeth. "Hold or Weyr?"

"Hold. But it wasn't bad," he added quickly, eyes flashing up to meet J'day's briefly before looking away again. "Most of the time, I didn't even notice, but, when I fell, I ... that made everything worse."

He gave him back the mug. "Finish it." He turned back to the small table where he'd laid out the balms and ointments, picking each one up, but mind turning over the new information. "F'rian," he said, turning around, arms crossed over his chest. His weyrmate looked up, looking ever so much like a badly-treated wher and J'day's anger evaporated. He sighed and changed what he was going to say.

"F'rian, a Weyr looks after its own. You don't have to do everything alone any more. You could have asked for help. Injury is not the same thing as weakness."

"I didn't know that then," he admitted, "and then, I was too proud. Really, all the fuss over Impression and the -- the scars, I had enough fellis I didn't even notice and I really was well when we were allowed to fly. Running was my escape, it's not something I had to think about."

"Drink the tea before it gets cold. Cold willowsalic is just nasty."

F'rian shuddered in agreement and swallowed the bitter brew in a few mouthfuls. Grimacing, he handed the mug back to J'day. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With F'rian on his stomach, J'day pulled up the furs to upper thighs and crouched at his side to start working in the salve. This one was the strongest, and had numbweed as one of its main ingredients. J'day knew his hands would quickly go numb as well and used a rag to first slather on the thick paste before touching to soothe it into the skin.

"J'day?"

"Yes?"

"We're weyrmates, right?"

His forehead wrinkled a bit. "Yes."

"I know you said I had to decide, but this affects you, too. It should be a joint decision, don't you think?"

It didn't take much to figure out what he was talking about. "You're the one they want."

"J'day ... I may never be allowed back to active duty again."

He forced himself to keep moving, the numbweed tingling against his fingers. "Don't say that, you don't know that for sure."

"Maybe. Why don't you think I haven't gone to see a healer? I know it's bad."

Well, maybe if you hadn't let it get so out of hand, J'day groused silently.

"This, what the Weyrleader wants me to do, I don't know if I can, but what else can I do? I don't want to be a burden!"

J'day flopped down beside F'rian, looking deep into his worried eyes. Numb fingers brushed a stray curl out of the way. "We have a very different idea of what's a burden and what's not. As long as you're a dragonrider, you'll never be a burden, F'rian. Never. Take Weyrwoman Malira, for example. Or old H'rtal. Are they burdens?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

"You don't take your share out of stores as it is. And you can always hire yourself out if you're ever in any real need."

"Hire myself?"

"Your drawings. Don't tell me you've never sold one?"

F'rian looked scandalized. "No one knows about that! No one, except you."

"That's one tough secret you've managed to keep."

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't get visitors."

"What about that painting you did, then? The one for the weyrwoman?"

"Oh, that was nothing, a gift, she was nice to me, when I ... after Impression, she visited me every day, taught me things, kept me company. I wanted to do something back, it just took me awhile, to be sure I could do it."

Judging from his hands when the cream had F'rian numb enough, J'day sat up and grabbed another, one to more protect skin from the friction of the massage rather than of any real medicinal value. Kneeling at F'rian's side, he got started.

"No fair," the greenrider murmured tiredly after a minute. "I can't feel it."

J'day smirked down at him where F'rian couldn't see. "I thought you didn't like touch."

"I don't. Makes my skin crawl, like," he yawned.

"You do have really sensitive skin, but we're getting off subject. You're not a burden, and you never will be, and you're still going to teach, no matter which Weyr you choose, that was decided at the meeting today -- yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, N'valen got T'rar and L'mora agree that all the Weyrs should be able to take advantage of you, not just one. Oh, that did not come out right. What I meant was, you're going to have lots of dragonriders wanting you to teach them. How or where is still undecided. You don't have to choose between feeling useful at Fort or going back to what you know at Igen."

"Would you want to stay here?"

J'day worked silently, pulling his thoughts together. "No," he said at last. "I'll always be little Jay here. I'm -- I feel like a different person at Igen. I like who I am, I've made something of myself. I'll never find that here, and I won't take it away from someone else. But, if you want to stay, we can stay."

A hand eased out from under F'rian's head and patted J'day on the knee. "J'day, this isn't just about me, and you have family here. Tor, and your mother, and Ada, and those little boys of yours."

"You've met my sons?"

"Yes, Roni and Tor introduced me to your foster mother. She's fostering your sons now."

"Wow. She fostered my mother, too, she swore she wouldn't take any more kids after me." He grinned wickedly.

"They don't look like you."

"I know, they take after their mother."

"Why didn't you tell me you had children? Have you not visited since you left?"

"No, it didn't seem important."

"J'day!"

"What?"

"They're your sons."

"I have a daughter, too. She must be, oh, ten turns or so now. Huh. Almost old enough to stand on the sands herself."

"Where is she?"

"Fostered down at the Harperhall. Her mother didn't want her raised in the Weyr."

"They're your family."

"The Weyr is my family, and theirs, too. They're hardly lacking for people to look after them. All weyrbrats are raised communally."

"I don't even know what that means, but I don't like it."

"I'm not a good parent, F'rian. Once they start screaming, I'm more than ready to hand them off to someone else. You're not angry?"

"About children? No, should I be? I was more surprised you only had three."

"There were more, one was stillborn, and two died in infancy."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, there was a bad fever that year, hard on the young and old alike."

"It's always hard to lose someone you care about."

"Well, you're not losing me and I'm not losing you and, right now, that's all I care about and shardit if you haven't dragged this subject off track again." He laughed. "What is it you want, F'rian? Seriously, it doesn't matter where you live, you're going to be doing the same thing, so what would you prefer?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it some more." He yawned, popping his jaw.

J'day yawned, too. "Go ahead and sleep, I'm almost done anyway."

F'rian was asleep almost instantly. J'day had always envied the greenrider's ability to fall soundly asleep within minutes as soon as he lay down. Even after pulling up the furs around them and stretching out next to his weyrmate, J'day did not find sleep so easy to attain. He rolled over on his side to run his fingers along F'rian's face and shoulder. Just when he thought he knew and understood his weyrmate, he learned something even more disturbing. He hoped, with a guilty, selfish hope, that F'rian would let himself be just a bit of a burden. He liked being needed. He knew want, was intimately familiar with that feeling, but he'd rarely ever been truly needed or needed anyone else in return.

The greenrider grunted as J'day maneuvered them so that F'rian lay with his head on J'day's chest, but he didn't wake. Running fingers through that hair and down the muscular back, J'day tried to compose himself enough to sleep, but his mind wouldn't settle. He was still awake when Gibbrenth roused and told him that dawn was not too far away at Igen. He thanked the bronze and shook F'rian slightly.

"F'rian? F'rian, I'm leaving now."

The greenrider rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "No," he grumbled.

That hand F'rian had been rubbing his eyes with went flat against J'day's chest, rubbing smoothly along his collar. He stopped him with a hand to his wrist. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go." Moist lips far too close to a nipple had J'day pushing. "Stop that! I c-can't -- can't -- F'rian!" He giggled and squirmed.

"Tor said you were ticklish," said F'rian, and then he bit him.

J'day sat up, or tried, but F'rian slithered sideways to pin him down, his hidden hand still ghosting along one side, his other pressing down on a shoulder, mouth still attacking. Groaning and still clumsily and only half-heartedly trying to escape, J'day arched his back and groaned.

"Me and Tor are -- oh, shards! -- G-going to -- ah, stop that -- have words, I -- oh!"

F'rian shifted, sliding upwards, and J'day gave up, hands moving to grab his weyrmate's hips and pull him to straddle him. He was really wishing now that he'd taken his breeks off before settling in, but then F'rian was kissing him and J'day lost all remaining coherent thought. Elbows planted by his head, F'rian's fingers mapped out J'day's features while his lips nibbled and teased. Morning play was one of J'day's favorite things. He was both horribly turned on, amazed that his weyrmate would be so bold, and frustrated. If he'd known F'rian would react like this, he would have woken him up far sooner.

His hands caressed the flat, rough planes of F'rian's back, lingering over the firm flesh of the buttocks, fingers lightly tracing the scar ridges in that way he knew would make F'rian squirm. The man did more than that; his lips parted and he moaned. J'day had a hand on the back of his neck, holding F'rian close before he could even think to back away. His other hand still caressed and F'rian shivered, panting against his lips as J'day claimed his mouth. Tongue met tongue and J'day groaned, too, but he could feel F'rian retreating, and so backed down, using mouth and teasing passes of his tongue to entice his weyrmate to take back the initiative. He dropped the hand from F'rian's neck back to his hips, grinding up into him, lost in the waves of desire that were not quite as good as earlier, but combined with that unsatisfied arousal would set him off without too much more encouragement.

"Here," he moaned when he had a second to catch his breath. He craned his neck, lifting his jaw, a trembling finger pointing out a few places. He cried out in hot pleasure as tentative lips moved to the join of jaw and neck, then followed along where J'day had pointed. The pressure in his groin was now approaching appalling levels. His hands fumbled between their two bodies, yanking at the ties to his breeks.

F'rian froze at an accidental touch.

J'day cracked an eyelid to stare at him. "F'rian?" he gasped out the question.

Green eyes were full of worry and another shiver twitched shoulderblades, but F'rian nodded curtly. "Trust ... you," he panted.

"Kiss me," said J'day.

The kisses were lighter again, more tentative, and J'day hurried. He pushed down his pants enough to let erection slide against erection freely, without the restricting cloth between, and both men moaned together. Gentle and fierce, smooth and rough, soft and hard, swift and slow, all at once. J'day clung to his weyrmate's hips, kissing lightly in quick grabs, tossing his head from side to side and gasping, crying out as fire settled in his stomach and shot outward in a rush, body at first tensing from the largest to the smallest muscle, and then falling back limp and exhausted, to blink up at F'rian's amused, but puzzled expression. Eyelids fluttering, J'day tried to scowl, but could only lay wheezing. He licked his lips, cleared his throat, and then moaned again softly as a large hand stroked over forehead and brow into his hair and down his face.

"No fair," he pouted. "How'm I supposed to get through the next month now?" He whimpered as F'rian continued stroking his face and hair. Then he frowned. "You're smirking at me."

"Looks like," panted F'rian, still smirking, "I owe Tor a drink."

"I can't think," groaned J'day, struggling, but failing to pull his scattered wits back together. "What are you talking about?"

"I said you weren't a morning person. He said I must not be waking you up properly."

J'day wanted to be angry, or annoyed, or at least put out, but he couldn't. He laughed, crushing F'rian to him in a hug. He was still smiling stupidly when he reached Igen and joined the rest of the wingleaders for the morning meeting. T'rar gave him an inquiring look, but he just shook his head and smiled. He knew his cheeks were still rosy and his eyes bright, but he couldn't have cared less. Let them see and wonder. And he must remember to send D'toras some wine. Oh, yes, indeed.