The Seventh Wing - 13. Chapter 13

"J'day?"

He didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"I'm ready for my afternoon's molesting."

"M'kay, be there in a minute."

There was a slight sound in the doorway of the bronzerider's office, the quiet whisper of skin on skin. His quill paused, eyes flickering over and catching the gleam of sun-bronzed skin. Lots of it. He sat up from where he'd hunched over, quill forgotten to drip ink on the hide he'd been writing on. F'rian leaned against the door-jam, arms crossed leisurely over his chest, mouth pinched in the corner into a knowing smirk. The man had absolutely no clothes on. He gleamed with the lingering moisture of a bath, rivulets of water trickling down his neck from his hair.

His body remained casual under the scrutiny, totally displayed. In the month he'd been back at Igen Weyr, F'rian had regained most of the weight he'd lost in the preceding months, and with the enforced inactivity looked lean and fit rather than tired and worn. His eyes twinkled when J'day finally drew his gaze back up from admiring the long legs, back up over the slim hips and inviting, partially-aroused length there, back up over a still-flat stomach to muscular arms, powerful shoulders, and the trailing ends of dark, black curls.

The end of an eyebrow twitched.

J'day shot to his feet, smacking his knee on the edge of the desk, seeking quill catching on the lip of the inkwell and spilling.

"Ach! Shardit!" he snapped, fumbling with hides and records, mouth clicking shut as his attention went elsewhere.

F'rian snickered.

J'day lifted his head, deciding that, spill or not, it could wait. Abandoning the mess, he surreptitously adjusted himself as he edged around the desk. F'rian's eyes followed him, but the smirk didn't move, so he wasn't sure how obvious he was. And then he had to ask himself why he cared, and a little voice in the back of his head that he usually tried to ignore, whispered about the rules of the game. A game, he then told himself firmly, that F'rian had never been told the rules of or even gave any indication of a willingness to play. But he was so good! All he'd done was to give J'day a look ... and stand there all glowing and available ... and J'day was rock-hard and wanting so badly he ached.

His hand shook when he raised it to gesture and he cursed himself. The man didn't know what he was doing, this wasn't what it seemed ....

"Shall we?"

J'day wilted as his voice cracked like a teenager's and F'rian's smirk twitched into a for-real, teasing grin.

"Wash your hands," said F'rian.

The bronzerider looked down, noticing the ink staining his fingers, and frowned. F'rian took that moment to peel himself off the door and make his slow way across the weyr, pausing by the table to glance back over his shoulder.

"Hurry up."

"Shards!" whispered J'day, still frozen where he stood. F'rian moved away again and J'day followed him with his eyes, watching the way the muscles flowed under the skin, sticking over the left side from the old injuries in the limp that he had, sure that there was no possible way that his skin could feel so cold when his insides were so hot. He silently cursed again and then jerked into movement. If there was any possible way that F'rian was offering what J'day thought he might be offering, then J'day wasn't going to just stare and drool.

"H-how was the first day?" he asked, plunging his hands into water and scrubbing at them furiously.

"Fine," F'rian called back and J'day moaned to himself at the accompanying rustle of furs as F'rian settled on the sleeping couch.

"Just 'fine?'" he echoed, trying to focus his mind on something other than how badly he wanted to run his hands over all that exposed skin, licking and kissing from head to toes. He groaned, shaking his head to try and rid himself of that mental picture.

F'rian's voice was slightly lower than normal and slipped over J'day like a caress. "We just took some time to get to know each other a bit."

J'day's hands shook, splashing loudly as he rinsed off. "Please tell me you weren't showing off?"

"Lioleth doesn't need me on her neck for what I wanted to show --"

"And that's far more impressive, and you know it."

"Perhaps."

J'day dried his hands on his shirt as he peeled it from his back. He came around the corner of the little kitchenette towards the sleeping chamber and tripped over his own feet. They'd early on come to realize that F'rian hated being on his stomach, and being on his back was more pain than it was worth, so, at least for now, J'day administered the healer's cream with his weyrmate on his side. He was there now, stretched out on the furs, one leg up and bent for balance, hips angled so that they were what J'day saw first, open crock against his stomach, and arm behind his back. The suggestive manner in which those muscles moved made J'day's mouth go dry. F'rian held him, frozen in place, with a twinkle of challenge in his eyes.

Blindly, J'day fumbled to lay his shirt over a chair, missed, and ignored it. His feet took him unerringly towards his weyrmate. He saw, and had to pinch himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming, how F'rian's fingers disappeared over and behind the curve of his ass. In all their time together, he had never, never, seen F'rian touch himself beyond the quick, near-clinical, necessary efforts of washing. Even as he stared, the glistening member half-hidden in the furs bobbed slightly as it stiffened perceptibly.

"And you know what you're doing?" he gasped, not able to tear his eyes away, not sure he was even still discussing possible classroom techniques.

"No," F'rian replied, breathing easily, but with a light sheen of sweat on face and chest. "But it seemed to work."

Boots. Boots had to come off, then pants.

"They respect you now?" J'day asked, dropping to one knee to pull off his footgear.

"They're starting to, but, J'day, how do you teach creativity?"

He'd never gotten his boots off so fast. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

F'rian's hand reappeared, to dip again in the pot. "I'm sure."

J'day didn't bother standing back up; he crawled over to the sleeping couch. Grabbing the side, he kneeled there and took the crock to re-seal it, placing it on the floor out of the way.

"By the Egg," he whispered, "what you are doing to me!"

F'rian licked his lips as a tremor raced across his skin. He blinked slowly at J'day. "You like?"

"Shells, yes!"

"Sir? Permission for inappropriate conduct?"

J'day groaned, low and deep in the back of his throat, grabbed the furs to keep from snatching at his weyrmate, and attacked the man's mouth in a desperate, all-consuming kiss.

"Granted," he wheezed, when they came back up for air. Two hands, one cool and moist, the other warm and smelling richly of herbs and healing unguents, came up to fit around J'day's face. Thumbs caressed cheekbones, the ends of fingers grazed his ears. J'day shivered under an indecipherable, but sultry stare, tongue darting out to moisten dry, nervous lips.

"Then don't you think?" asked F'rian, "That you ought to come up here?"

"M-maybe," he replied, and then he was caught up in another kiss.

Getting re-acquainted with one another had not been easy. Sure, the habits were easy to remember, but they were not so easy to slip back into. F'rian had returned to Igen with more things than he'd left with, and those had needed places to go. J'day wasn't going to complain, not after he saw that the majority of what F'rian unpacked were clothes. Roni had outdone herself. There were a half-dozen of the squeezeably-soft leather breeks F'rian had worn that first day, barely worn and in several shades. There were a dozen of the shirts, in gentle, buttery creams for everyday use, and three of the spectacularly colorful garments that D'toras was fond of for Gather attire. J'day had laughed when he saw those, until F'rian put one on. He was suitably impressed.

The new socks were odd, at first. They were double-sewn, with softer cloth on the inside, to be worn next to the skin, and a tougher material on the outside, to help them last longer. F'rian's new riding gloves and pants were made in the same fashion, with cloth on the inside of the leather. He had a couple sets of worn-looking work clothes, and his shoes had been trimmed down to a pair of riding boots, some soft, indoor slippers, a scuffed pair of half-boots that looked supple enough, yet sturdy enough to run in, and two pairs of decorative boots, one in brown, one in a dark-green that could be worn with the two new sets of Gather clothes.

There were cases for all the loose drawings and for the paints and brushes, perfectly organized in that way F'rian had. Those and the easel and extra canvas all went onto the shelving unit J'day had brought into the weyr when he saw how much there was. F'rian quite happily spent an entire morning arranging everything perfectly.

There were combs and a new shaving kit, and a tiny bottle of a light, sweet scent that went into the bathing chamber, and hadn't that been worth the dark blush to offer to help F'rian unpack?

There were hand creams and massage gels that looked right of of J'day's foster mother's private stash, a new case for F'rian's leatherworking kit in D'toras' distinctive style, and a large toothbrush-pick contraption that puzzled J'day exceedingly until he remembered that Roni's dragon, Arlith, had a problem with getting food stuck between her teeth. His suspicions were confirmed the next time F'rian bathed Lioleth and subsequently brushed the green dragon's teeth.

"She likes it," F'rian had said to both J'day and Gibbrenth's inquiring stares. Lioleth had just batted her tail smugly.

Don't even think about it, J'day told his bronze, and, not for the last time, wondered how else his old friends had corrupted his weyrmate and dragon.

Physical goods were far more easily adapted to than behaviors and mannerisms. J'day was, normally, a fairly untidy person, and liked having a drudge come in. F'rian wouldn't hear of it, paranoid that someone might bother with his things. He barred the inside door to the corridors beyond, insisting that all entry to the weyr be safe-guarded by Lioleth's aggressive possessiveness. J'day had to admit that the green dragon settled down better after that, but it was still annoying to have to summon or prod Gibbrenth into action any time J'day wanted to go anywhere. Plus, trying to convince his weyrmate not to strain himself cleaning was like telling Lioleth she couldn't bathe every single day. Gibbrenth certainly was no help there, either. He was quick to take advantage of an opportunity for further pampering. Since it was a war he could not win, J'day gave in and tried to do what he could to help out, which essentially meant being ordered around and finally told to just stay out of the way when F'rian got into one of his cleaning moods. It was irritating, but he was able to convince the man to leave his office alone.

At the end of their first sevenday together, J'day woke up one morning curled inside his weymate's arms. He wasn't complaining, especially when sleepy hands stroked and teased the rest of his body into full awareness of the situation. He'd turned his head and gotten nipped on the ear, so had tried to relax and enjoy the tender, often tentative, explorations. As it was their rest-day, J'day hadn't felt pressured at all to rise and they'd spent the morning curled up together in bed, dozing and speaking quietly together. It was a day that made him look forward to all future rest-days with tingling anticipation.

Having F'rian in his wing was less problematic than J'day had at first assumed. Not allowed to fly or drill with the rest, F'rian spent the majority of the first few days working on the report T'rar had required from all his exchange riders. Then he'd needed to study and figure out how he wanted to teach his new class. Word of the instruction had spread rapidly and there was a large group eager to learn how to beat Igen at the Exhibition Drill at the coming turn's Spring Games. F'rian was, of course, forbidden to help anyone design a show and D'cor had been very put out about the whole affair. That didn't stop him from assigning one of his wingseconds to the class, however.

F'rian eventually decided to hold classes at Igen, in one of the empty wing ready-rooms, and the practical lessons out by Ista, first in the water, and then overhead. He'd told J'day that he would start the way he had the bronzerider, with written and drawn descriptions of moves, then individual practice, and then see where that led. Discussions around the various-sized dioramas that suddenly cropped up everywhere became a common sight in the evenings. J'day found himself having to hunt down his weyrmate time and again as the other dragonriders of Igen Weyr side-tracked him with their displays.

"I've lived here for six turns!" he had whispered to J'day one night after being extricated from an unusually boistrous debate, "And no one's ever paid me this much attention before!"

The sudden popularity was thrilling, but being crowded quickly exceeded F'rian's comfort level. What J'day didn't want to explain was how everyone talked about F'rian, like some kind of newly-discovered, exotique bug. A butterfly when they'd all been expecting the grumpy, disagreeable caterpilar. J'day could only hope that all the fuss would soon blow over. He wasn't accustomed to sharing and more than once had had to extricate his weyrmate from a proposal he'd been too naive to interpret correctly.

One thing that hadn't changed was F'rian's aversion to touch. He bloodied several noses and broke a few fingers before people re-learned to keep their hands to themselves. J'day left the scolding to his wingseconds, firmly instructing the men to treat F'rian no differently than any of the others, and they took him at his word. It was worth a few nights of huffy silent treatment to set those rumors to rest.

For the most part, F'rian was an extra body in his wing that J'day didn't have to deal with on a professional basis and he worried less and less about the evaluation of the situation, which T'rar required after the first six months. As long as F'rian was restricted from active duty, J'day figured their relationship, both formally and informally, would work out just fine. He hoped, anyway. That moment was still a long way off, though, and he was determined not to fret about it. No sense borrowing trouble, there was enough to be had without looking for more.

The fun part, for J'day, was following the healer's orders, and knowing that he got to have, and touch all over, what everyone else was just now learning to appreciate. He picked up the nightly massages right away. It was easy, that first night, to then take up the other cream, with F'rian already so relaxed and half-asleep, and massage lightly around the other, more intimate scars. He stayed to the outside those first few days as they figured out the best ways to get the cream where it needed to go. Several more days had passed before F'rian didn't have to fight himself to relax enough to ease the initial entry, but he never seemed to really look forward to it. J'day insisted upon three times a day, full-well knowing he was pushing the limits of F'rian's tolerance, but willing to sacrifice a little pleasure now for more later on. He had a goal to look forward to and worked towards that end with as professional and detatched a manner as he could get, but he still, more often than not, had to spend a little alone time recovering afterwards.

He didn't think much of it until one morning F'rian had stiffened around his fingers with a shuddering moan, his hand dusting across the furs, inching towards something that, as soon as he saw what it was, sent teasing shocks through his own body. He watched, anticipating, but F'rian halted abruptly and pulled away entirely, fleeing into the bathing chamber. J'day had sat on the sleeping couch a little confused, but didn't interrupt.

J'day had learned that Fort Weyr's master healer, Nuine, had ordered a very thorough exam following T'skel's orders and that last mating flight. Upon his arrival back at Igen, Okato had duplicated the exam, testing each one of the other healer's conclusions, and agreeing with most of them. It was an ordeal that J'day didn't blame F'rian for not wanting to talk about, but he'd sought out the healer to ask his own questions.

"I've seen practically everything, J'day," Okato had told him, smiling soothingly, and although he'd refused to share details, he reassured J'day that his weyrmate was fit enough for sexual relations, provided they give the greenrider ample time to stretch. J'day had flushed as bright as a tomato, but the healer had not lost his composure and even managed to suggest a couple positions that wouldn't overly strain F'rian's back.

"You do this often?" J'day had asked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He hadn't felt this awkward speaking about sex since his teens.

"This is a Weyr," the healer had replied, smiling. "I may not have been weyrbred, but, if you hadn't noticed, green dragons comprise almost fifty percent of a Weyr's dragon population." He'd shrugged. "Give or take. Then blues, browns, a few bronzes, and a queen or two. According to historical records, those numbers fluctuate given the duration and activity of queen mating flights and the approach of thread."

"In other words ...?"

"There's far more men as dragonriders than women, and that disparity will only increase during a Pass."

"Okay."

"J'day," Okato had sighed, "a healer who cannot adapt and be available for the specialized needs of his constituents would not last. And healers don't gossip."

"Oh. Er, right, then. So, you're ...?"

"Not my type," he'd interrupted. "Look, J'day, we both know that F'rian's been hurt. His first mating flight, well, let me just say that was one of the worst cases I've ever seen, and I've worked in the Weyrs since my journeyman days. I thought, at the time, that what I'd seen was it, but, what I saw yesterday, there's older scarring there. You be careful. Go too fast, and you'll most likely put him off sex for good."

J'day had winced. "I'd sort of noticed, but, Master Okato, do you think, will he ever be able to ... to enjoy it?"

Smiling gently, the healer had said, "Of course he will, especially with a conscientious lover. Just give it time."

He'd nodded to accept the advice and left, only wishing that said advice were easier to follow. F'rian was just so tempting! J'day wanted more than the occassional, rest-day caresses or stolen kiss, and he didn't dare let himself go, for fear of taking too much too soon. It wasn't as if F'rian weren't willing, to a point, but he still tensed whenever J'day got too close to groin or butt in a sensual way and he knew they couldn't continue until that last barrier were somehow brought down. F'rian had to take that first step; J'day couldn't do it for him.

So it was that he let his pants fall from their precarious position on his hips and climbed up onto the sleeping couch, tingling with nervous want. F'rian sat up to meet him and they fell into each other's arms for a kiss that seemed to touch fire along every last one of J'day's nerves. He shivered and pushed for more, no longer willing to let F'rian dominate the embrace with shy teases, but taking, showing his need in the only way he knew how. F'rian melted against him, surrendering completely and so unexpectedly that J'day pulled away to reassure himself that this was really what his weyrmate wanted.

The man in his arms, hair tangled in his grip, moaned as they separated. He blinked open clear-green eyes, panting through kiss-swollen lips, a rosy sheen high on his cheeks, sweat glistening on his skin.

"J'day ... please, I'm ready, I --"

"Shh," he whispered, kissing him gently. He let his hands slip from head to shoulders to waist, and tugged. "Come here."

F'rian straddled J'day uncertainly. With one hand to brace himself, J'day reached with the other to draw his partner back into a kiss, halting the protests before the could even begin. He teased with kisses to draw F'rian further into his lap and braced himself for the inevitable contact. He gasped all the same, feeling that hot, slick member rubbing against his own.

"Oh!" panted F'rian.

J'day trembled, not sure he was going to make it. Lying back, he pulled, and F'rian slid over him, leaning forward onto his hands. J'day accepted the kiss, sucking on tongue and silently begging for more force which did not come.

"Kiss me," he told his weyrmate when they separated. "Kiss me harder."

F'rian pursed his lips in thought for a moment, and then nodded. This time, they both groaned. J'day only put up a token's worth of resistance, losing himself in the reality of one of his favorite fantasies. The tongue he accepted into his mouth touched him with deceptive gentleness, claiming him, swiping over every last dip and crevice and strong enough to take and take without letting him get away, even the tiniest bit. He sucked in air through his nose, neither letting F'rian escape nor back down. He could almost forget what they were doing, almost, except that the bottom of F'rian's ass rubbed up against J'day's cock and the sensory overload, so much after so little for so long, required concentration to resist a premature release. Not yet. Soon, but not yet.

J'day lowered his hands to probe that inviting opening, and F'rian tensed. They opened their eyes at the same time, pausing in their kiss. F'rian licked his lips. Taking as deep a breath as he could, still panting with the force of their kisses, he closed his eyes, leaned forward once more, and pushed back against J'day's fingers. He pushed J'day down into the furs and the bronzerider lost track of what he was doing. He struggled, after a moment, heart pounding even harder under the assault, and then gave it up, waiting for another break in the harsh, demanding kiss in order to move forward.

"Ri-an," he gasped, reluctantly pushing his palm against the muscular chest. "Wait. I can't take much more of this. Hold still a m-min -- hey, that's not -- not ... oohh! F-fair ...."

Teeth and lips tormented his neck in each of the spots F'rian had painstakingly discovered snuggled up together on those few mornings. J'day tried to fend him off, swearing, but then fingers darted along his ribs and he was giggling, squirming in any which direction to escape.

"St-stop it!" he panted. "Can't concentrate!" He scowled, but F'rian did not appear chastized, merely returning to kissing lips in order to chase away the frown. "Do you want this or not?" he finally got out.

F'rian nodded.

"Then hold still, for Faranth's sake!"

He drew back, but only so far as to whisper in J'day's ear, "I like you this way."

J'day caught his breath, his heart giving an extra-quick thump.

"Well?" F'rian inquired. "Weren't you doing something?"

"Er, uh, y-yeah, uh, behave."

F'rian stuck his tongue out, but waited, resting his weight on his arms. J'day traced up the bent thighs with his fingertips and around to the back. One finger slithered between the cheeks, to press lightly against the hidden entrance. F'rian was moist and, he swallowed, pushing in, stretched, as he had said, ready.

"Are you sure about this?" he felt compelled to ask.

"Yes," F'rian replied, all joking aside. "Love me, J'day. Please."

His breath hitched against a suddenly closed throat. "I love you."

"I ..." F'rian's gaze slid sideways, forcibly re-focused back on J'day. "I l-love you, too. I want to, I do, please. Be in me?"

"Oh, Rian!" He surged up for a kiss, wrapping one arm around his weyrmate in a quick hug. He kissed him again and then reached for one nervous, shaky hand to feel for his erection. Leaning back on his elbow, J'day stared up at his weyrmate and positioned himself at that inviting entrance. Then he drew away, needing both arms for support. "When you're ready."

"But ... what do I do?"

"Uh ..." J'day had never tried to explain this before. He licked his lips, knew he was blushing, but forcing himself to meet the embarassed gaze of his weyrmate, frozen in awkward, uncertain worry.

"Just sit," he said, and lightly stroked the thighs at his side. He projected reassurance and all his love at his weyrmate, willing him to relax. "Go slow," J'day continued, "and let your hand guide me inside. You're in control now."

"I am?"

"Yeah, you are. Unless you'd rather not be?" He hadn't thought of that.

An almost invisible line of tension eased across F'rian's shoulders. He closed his eyes in a long blink, and, opening them, fastened J'day with as tender a look as any he'd ever seen. He almost couldn't breathe.

"No, no, this is ... good. This is good." Then, steadying himself with one hand on J'day's chest, F'rian slowly pushed down.

They both cried out at the first bit of unimpeded progress. J'day felt F'rian clench around him and hastily squeezed his thighs to grab his lover's attention.

"Breathe," he said. "Everything's okay, just breathe, and relax."

"I know," F'rian murmured. "But, I ... I want, I --"

"Not going anywhere," J'day replied. "Slow. Or you'll hurt yourself."

"I don't care!"

Mouth dropping open, J'day stared up at his weyrmate. F'rian stared back down through half-lidded eyes, and still managed to look cocky and rebellious while shivering with mingled anxiety and pleasure.

"Not now, maybe," whispered J'day. "But you will later on. Some other time, Rian, later, just for now, be kind to us both and go slow."

F'rian nodded and every last bit of J'day's control was tested as they slid, bit by bit, closer and closer together. J'day was shaking too by the time he was fully seated. Head thrown back and eyes closed, J'day panted for breath. F'rian wiggled and flexed a little in effort to ease his own position, unknowingly adding to the pleasureable torment. The shifting soon gained actual purpose, as F'rian tested and learned; J'day watched him, so enthralled he could almost forget about the effort required to keep his own control. As they were, he couldn't touch, other than to help guide F'rian into a steady rythym with pressure on his thighs, but lost nothin in the view.

F'rian caught him looking and paused. Leaning forward precariously for a moment, he flopped down to engage their lips in another battle. J'day wrapped his arms around the offered neck and shoulders and kissed lustily until pushed back down. He almost came as F'rian sat up again. Groaning, J'day hesitantly reached for the weeping cock that had so briefly been sandwiched between their two bodies.

His hand was slapped away and he really whimpered then because F'rian ceased his rocking motion to lean back on one arm, the fingers of his other hand curling around his neglected length. From there, J'day was treated to an eyeful of hand on flesh. It wasn't long, not nearly long enough, before F'rian's body squeezed J'day in tight ecstasy and then J'day could no longer contain himself. The sight of something so gorgeously sensual, draped over his lap, was more than his poor, tormented body could take. After dancing along the edge for so long, he tumbled from the peak hard, coming in several short, quick thrusts, finishing even as his weyrmate slumped tiredly across his chest.

"Ooooh ... mmm," sighed F'rian.

J'day didn't trust himself to talk, panting and lying fairly still with his weyrmate's head in the crook of his neck and praying that this wasn't all some elaborate fantasy. They moaned together as J'day's softened member slipped free, and a few tugs had F'rian nestled alongside his body, head pillowed on his shoulder. Trembling with orgasmic fatigue, J'day brushed his fingers through his weyrmate's damp, sweaty hair, and twisted other fingers in the curls at the back of his neck.

"So," he said softly as his breathing evened out. "When?

"Mmm?"

"How long have you loved me?"

"Long time."

"But when did you know?"

"Wh-when I kissed you, at the Games, I think I knew then."

"Really? So long?"

F'rian's arm stuttered across J'day's slick chest. "Think so, but, I didn't know what it was, why I felt as I did."

"Oh. And you're sure now?"

F'rian squeezed him in a one-armed hug. "I'm sure. I l-love you. I love you, J'day."

"And why's that?"

"Because I -- you make me feel ... special. For the first time in my life, I'm not ashamed of who I am. Coming to Igen may have given you a new life, but you've given me a second chance, too, and that means ... m-means more than I could ever say."

"That," said J'day, swallowing, "sounds pretty good to me."

"One more thing." F'rian muffled a yawn and fingered his lover's jaw.

"Besides how absolutely handsome I am?"

J'day got tapped on the nose for that. "No, you believe in me, and I can trust you to, to take care of me. I've never wanted, never thought I -- I can take care of myself! But it's nice, to know, to not have to, you know?"

"I know." Tilting that chin up, J'day met him in a soft, brief kiss before settling back. "Hmm, you know what?"

"What?"

"Lioleth and I agree on something."

"You do."

"Yep: you're ours."

"Is that so?"

"You bet, and you know she doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

F'rian almost choked for laughing. Then he leaned over to tilt his chin closer to J'day's ear and whispered, "Then I'm yours."