The Seventh Wing - 9. Chapter 9

J'day woke to a hand on his shoulder. He blinked groggily for a minute. F'rian had curled up around him while they slept and the bronzerider was most loathe to move.

"Reena?" he asked, focusing on the woman perched on the edge of the sleeping couch.

She smiled down at him. "I hate to disturb you, but the Weyrleader would like to talk to you."

J'day groaned. "Right now?"

"If you think you can extricate yourself, you have time to bathe and change. I'll have luncheon sent up."

"Ugh, fine. This had better be important."

He waited until she left and the curtain settled behind her. He and F'rian hadn't gone far. Joreena had two sleeping alcoves in her weyr, a set-up similar to what J'day and D'toras had shared. The second bed she kept for occassions when she hosted other riders, or when she and her weyrmate wanted space. Both adults were stubborn and liked to have their own way. They fought and made-up again routinely, but they had stayed faithful to each other for thirty turns, a long time for a dragonrider.

The weyr also had a small bathing pool. J'day smiled to himself as he carefully wriggled out of F'rian's arms and untangled their legs. Following their intense confessions, J'day had bullied F'rian into the chamber, his eyes raking over his weyrmate critically and with a great deal of concern.

J'day had lost weight over the past months, but the difference was not particularly noticeable. F'rian, on the other hand, looked like he was wasting away. He'd needed help to get up off the floor, saying he was just stiff, but J'day hadn't missed the grimace of pain or the whiteness around his lips. He'd limped as well, worse than anything J'day had seen since spring, and hadn't wanted to straighten up all the way.

"Stop right there," he'd told F'rian, placing the greenrider's hands on the back of the leather chair. F'rian's questioning, "Why?" had vanished into a choked-off yelp of pain as J'day had run his hands along his back. He'd been planning on a better look, but his weyrmate's knees had buckled and J'day had had to stop to catch him.

"How long has it been like that?" he'd demanded, once he'd assured himself that F'rian was alright. "And don't lie to me."

"Awhile," F'rian had answered, not looking at him.

"How long?"

"It's not that bad, I --"

"By the Egg, F'rian! Forget it, you'll tell me when I start digging into those knots. Forget your weyr, we're staying here."

"But --"

"There's room." J'day had glared at F'rian and the greenrider had dropped his eyes, giving in. That of itself was enough to tell the bronzerider just how much pain his weyrmate was in and he'd pressed his lips together tightly to keep from saying something he knew he would regret.

He'd taken F'rian to the bathing chamber and, over the other man's protests, undressed him and eased him into the pool. Leaving him to soak, J'day had gone through the storage chests in the weyr looking for anything he might be able to use. He'd decided he was not going to leave. He'd see his foster mother later and ask her for some of her liniment. For the present, something else would have to do. He'd settled on some skin cream that smelled vaguely fruity and placed that on the nightstand by the spare sleeping couch, turning back the furs as he did so. Then he'd returned to F'rian, undressed, and slipped into the pool beside him.

"Let me wash your hair?"

F'rian had opened an eye to peer at him. "It doesn't need washing."

"I'd like to anyway."

Taking F'rian's shrug as consent, J'day scurried back up to sit on the lip of the pool, with his weyrmate between his legs, arms draped over his knees, leaning back into him. J'day had taken his time, kneading the scalp as he worked up a good lather and rubbing his feet along F'rian's sides. He'd settled down quickly; F'rian was both emotionally and physically drained from their previous conversation, and he'd said he hadn't been sleeping well, either.

By the time he'd let F'rian up and out of the pool, the greenrider was limp and compliant. He'd made a face at the smell of the cream, but that didn't affect the soft, blissful sighs he'd made as J'day started to massage his shoulders and back. All the muscles were bunched and knotted, resisting release. As he worked his way down the spine, he'd had to keep reminding F'rian to relax. His grunts and soft chorus of ows didn't make it any easier to concentrate, either.

He'd finally had to stop because his hands were cramping, the muscles of his own arms and legs burning from the unaccustomed activity. Pouring more cream into his hands, J'day ran his palms and fingers lightly over F'rian's back. A great deal of the tension was gone, but his pressure points were still inflamed and the muscles of the lower back were still seized up tightly. He'd chewed his lip worriedly. F'rian would need a lot of work before his back loosened up properly. J'day just didn't have enough time. He wanted to take his greenrider home. He wanted to make him see a healer. He wanted F'rian under his eye to make sure the man didn't do anything stupid.

Now that he thought about it, J'day was cetain that F'rian had been hurting that last night they'd argued, before the greenrider had left. Was the accident the source of the current situation, or had he been hurting before and that had caused the accident? J'day hadn't touched him in three months, had stopped their nightly massages the same night that everything else had gone so wrong. But even before that, he'd massaged his weyrmate because he liked to, not because he'd particularly thought it was necessary. F'rian had been back on active duty since shortly after the Games. He'd thought he was fine ....

A low moan from F'rian had brought J'day's attention back to his weyrmate. He'd been idly tracing the ridges of the greenrider's scars, where they passed over the left hip, buttock, and started down the thigh. He'd drawn his fingers along the skin, trying to see if he could get the same response. He had.

"F'rian?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I do something? I don't know if you'll like it, but I do, and I'd just like to see ...?"

F'rian had tilted his chin to give J'day a one-eyed stare. "Okay," he said slowly.

J'day had grinned. "Okay," he'd said back, palming both buttocks and trailing his fingers along the tanned skin. "It's easier standing, but perhaps this is a better start, anyway."

F'rian's eyebrows had shot up at "standing" but he had remained quiet even as J'day eased between his legs, nudging them apart to accommodate his bulk. J'day had studied F'rian's reactions carefully, but he didn't tense up, which lifted some of the worry off the bronzerider's shoulders. He'd caressed the skin, delighting in the previously off-limits activity and comparing the harsh ridges of the left buttock with the smoothness of the right. Most men, and women, for that matter, had at least a light layer of hair over the majority of their bodies, enough to be noticeable if one looked close, but not noteable otherwise. F'rian had hairier legs than J'day, though that might only be the comparison of his dark hair to J'day's sun-bleached blonde ones. What was interesting to notice was the lack of hair in the scarred areas. This gave his back and rear a rather lopsided look, the scars standing out light against dark skin and hair.

Leaning down, J'day had kissed the right cheek, making F'rian jump.

"What are you doing?" he'd squeaked.

"I kissed you."

"I know that. Why?"

"Did you like it?"

There was no answer, only a flush of color along what J'day could see of F'rian's neck and cheek.

"If you get uncomfortable, just tell me to stop, and I will."

"Um ... Okay."

J'day had smiled and kissed the other cheek, then run his tongue along between the ridges. F'rian had shivered, the muscles in his buttocks and thighs tensing as he'd moaned softly. J'day had continued to kiss and lick his way over the puckered flesh, delighting in the shivers and moans he'd received in return. Blowing on a section of moist flesh, J'day had sat back to admire his handiwork. F'rian's chest moved up and down rapidly, his eyes closed, mouth parted as he'd gasped. His toes had alternately curled and relaxed, curled and relaxed to some internal cue and J'day had grinned, fingers roaming freely over the strong, lean buttocks. He'd been excited, too, with the feeling of doing something forbidden and intoxicated by F'rian's responses.

J'day had then halted the movement of his hands, light on both smooth and rough skin. "This might feel a little strange at first," he'd said, leaning so that he could better see F'rian and the greenrider him. "Trust me?"

F'rian had tightened his grip on the furs, jerking his chin down in a nod. He'd kept his eyes closed. Kissing him again lightly, J'day had carefully eased apart the buttocks, leaning in closer, and then stopping. F'rian was scarred! A pink line ran from the puckered entrance along the length of his cleft, another towards his pouch, and a spiders-web of others clustering around the hole itself. J'day had had to sit back and catch his breath, embarassingly close to tears.

"J'day?"

He'd looked down, into F'rian's eyes as the man had pushed himself up on an arm to look back at him. The bronzerider had given his weyrmate a smile. F'rian had still been flushed with arousal, but also worried. J'day had meant to caress that concern away but had felt his hand slide protectingly over that damaged butt instead.

"It hurts? Every time?" he'd asked.

F'rian had nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"I told you. It's not your fault. But if you don't get your hand off my ass --"

"This," J'day had told him fiercely, "is not going to hurt."

They'd stared at each other for a few seconds more before F'rian lowered himself back to the furs, making a soft whine of discomfort. Prising the butt-cheeks apart again, J'day had leaned in close and tongued over the upper scar, grinning at his weyrmate's startled squeak. Down he'd gone, past the entrance as far as he could go, and then back up. Again. The third time he stopped over the reddened entrance and licked his way around. F'rian's legs had tensed, squeezing against J'day's sides where he lay between them, shudders rippling the muscles, his pants buried in the bedfurs.

J'day had lapped a few more times and then, pushing in as close as he could, thrust his tongue inside that most precious and intimate of places. F'rian had made the loudest, most erotic sound J'day had ever heard, a growling, groaning cry. Feeling himself harden in response, he'd hummed in the back of his throat, swirling his tongue around and pushing deeper, just listening and feeling his greenrider's reactions. Releasing one hand, J'day had reached under F'rian's hips and grasped his weeping member, beginning to stroke in time to the in-and-out motion of his tongue. The resulting gasp and thrusting of hips had caused J'day to pause for a few seconds to steady himself. He'd wanted so badly to be using his cock instead of his tongue, to press F'rian into the wall with powerful thrusts, that he was practically shaking trying to hold himself back. Deliberately, he'd slowed his pace, slower than even D'toras at his most torturous, wanting to drag out this moment, to extend this period of bliss such that there was no way F'rian might even have the possiblity of thinking about anything else but the waves of pleasure rocking from curled toes to scrunched eyelids.

For an instant, just before he came, F'rian had seemed to hold his breath, going completely still, and then releasing in a gasp, falling limp around J'day, eyes still closed, mouth opened, heart racing, chest rising and falling in a quick, but slowing, rythym. He hadn't noticed at all when J'day had crawled up towards him and kissed his cheek. J'day hadn't spoiled the moment by speaking, merely caressing his weyrmate's skin -- neck, shoulders, back, hip, arm, face, everywhere he could reach, just marveling at the absolute serenity he found in the slack muscles. F'rian hadn't roused from the fatigue of orgasm before slipping into sleep.

As J'day had dealt with his own erection, he'd tasted tears on his lips.

Now, pulling away from his weyrmate without disturbing him, J'day paused just to look at him again. He breathed with his mouth open, black curls framing his face, still completely relaxed. J'day drew up the bedfurs to keep him warm and grabbed the small pack someone had thoughtfully removed from Gibbrenth and placed inside the sleeping alcove. Bathed, he dressed in a fresh pair of breeks and shirt, tugged on his boots, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked in on F'rian as he passed back by the alcove. The greenrider hadn't moved. Sighing a little, J'day stepped into the main room, accepting a cup of klah from his mother.

"What do you know?" he asked, sitting at the table across from her.

"That he shouldn't be here," she replied, sipping from her own cup.

"I apologize," said J'day, surprised. "I hadn't thought --"

"Not that, J'day," she interrupted. "Your weyrmate is injured."

"I know."

"You know? Then why, by the First Egg, is he here? I don't know that he should be flying at all, and certainly not in the fancy displays they've been putting on for us."

"Reena," J'day protested, "that man has lived with pain his whole life. He can hide --"

"That's no excuse. I thought I taught you better than that."

"I'm upset with myself, too, shardit!" snapped J'day. "Back off. You don't know what's going on." He frowned a moment longer and then made himself let go, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. "How's he been doing here?"

Joreena let the argument go as well. "Very good," she answered. "Roni took him under her wing right away. The girls fawned all over him when they realized he actually liked to dance. I don't think the poor boy sat down at all during the two Gathers he got dragged to down at the hold." She smiled. "He really is very skilled."

"You danced with him?"

"Of course I did. Good thing, too, or I might never have noticed. J'day." She leaned over the table, returning to her serious tone. "Why didn't you ask me for advice when you realized something was wrong?"

"Well, I ... I didn't realize there was anything going on until only a few months back, and then I thought I was handling things well. We had that fight and I wasn't thinking too clearly after that and ... I don't know, Reena, the thought never occurred to me. What did he tell you?"

She frowned. "Only that a particular brownrider seems to have claimed him as his own personal punching bag." She tapped her teeth with a nail. "Tor hadn't wanted to get involved, knowing he was your weyrmate, but I asked him to speak to F'rian after the last Gather. I thought a man-to-man talk might be easier, to get him to the healers, without making a big scene."

"Oh, shards."

"Hmm," groaned Joreena in agreement, sipping her klah. "We got a big scene, sure enough. He's very protective of you, you know," she added. "F'rian, I mean. He was very offended by D'toras apparently, ah, coming on to him. Both landed on report, but that at least got them speaking to each other. Tor found out that F'rian was nervous about his dragon's coming flight and, knowing what you'd spoken to him about before, spilled everything to me, and that brings us to today."

Nodding, J'day played with his cup. "He's scarred," he said quietly. "He's never experienced sex without pain, no one's bothered to take the time. It's like he's been repeatedly raped, every four months for the past three turns. Small wonder he's concerned."

"No need to take that tone with me."

"Sorry. I'm just ...."

"Angry."

"Yeah."

"Well, we're putting a stop to it," Joreena stated. "He's going home."

Hope, relief, and joy pushed around in J'day's chest. He shook his head slightly. "Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"

"Whatever the two of you might have done this morning, F'rian's just not ready for this. He needs to be back in familiar surroundings. I've already spoken to Weyrleader L'mora. He agrees with me. He should be -- ah! And here he is now."

Rising from her seat, Joreena answered the knock on the inner door. She took the tray from the waiting drudge and escorted the Weyrleader into her weyr. He was a small, lean man, hair gone mostly gray with age, and quite fond of his rather large and obnoxious moustache. He gave J'day a friendly smile, clasping wrists in his powerful grip.

"And how are you liking Igen, J'day?" he asked, taking a seat and helping himself to the pile of pasties and rolls.

"It has been quite a challenge, sir. I'm enjoying every minute."

"No problems?"

"No, sir." J'day picked up some fruit, wondering what the Weyrleader was getting at.

"So, the stunt-flying greenrider we've borrowed is your weyrmate?"

"Yes, sir."

Joreena said, "I've just been telling J'day that we'd agreed to send him back to Igen for his mating flight."

"Of course." He frowned. "That's settled, but what I would like to know, J'day, is if T'rar would ever consider a trade, for that greenrider of his."

Coughing up klah that had gone down the wrong way, J'day wiped at his eyes. "Er, excuse me?"

"Of course, I'd take you, too, J'day. What would Igen's Weyrleader want for the two of you?"

"But, I just ... er, sir, I don't think he'd trade."

"Absolutely nothing could convince him?"

"I don't think so."

"Even if the rider wanted to make the move?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe, I --"

L'mora clapped his hands together. "Good, then! You'll just have to tell your weyrmate to stay."

"But, I don't want to --"

"Oh, nonsense, J'day! This is your home! Gibbrenth clutched here, your family's here, your sons, friends, and I can promise you that your status won't change. Wingleader at Fort, you can't do better than that."

"With all due respect, sir, I like where I'm at."

"What's to like about a flaming hot rock in the middle of the desert? When you could be here! With the Healerhall, Harperhall, and four seasons?"

"What do you want F'rian for?"

"We've got a clutch hardening on the sands, J'day. I want him to assist our Weyrlingmaster, teach the new riders that knack of his for aerial art, as he calls it. And I want him training our wingleaders and wingseconds, as well as anyone else I can persuade. T'rar's gotten far too smug about his --"

J'day stood, striding away from the table, his chair falling over backwards with the force of his exit. "No," he said into the startled quiet. "No. I won't be a party to this. Igen is F'rian's home. It's my home now, too. If you want to try and persuade F'rian to agree to a trade, you can do it without my help."

"F'rian --"

"No, Reena! How can you even ask me this?"

The Weyrleader stood as well, anger darkening his skin. "You're throwing away an unimaginable opportunity!"

"I won't do it! I refuse to let you use me to pressure my weyrmate into something he doesn't want to do!"

"You don't know he wouldn't want to," said Joreena soothingly.

"Yes, I do!" J'day snapped back.

"Don't be such an obstinate fool!"

"Just try and swallow that dragon-sized pride of yours," added Joreena. "For just once --"

"It's not about my pride!" thundered J'day. He stabbed a finger at L'mora. "It's about his!"

"J'day!"

"You're so tired of being made a fool of at the Games, you're chasing after fire-lizards to try and get your way and I refuse to be bullied!"

"If you won't help, then you'll flaming well stay out of my way!" roared the Weyrleader. "And you can start now!"

J'day and his mother exchanged identical, surprised looks. "What?"

"Get out of my Weyr!" L'mora clarified.

"I've got permission to --"

"Rescinded! As of right now, you're no longer welcome."

"But ... F'rian --"

"Stays. He can leave when the exchange is complete, terms of the deal."

"Weyrleader," Joreena protested.

"It's a mating flight, Greenrider," he snarled. "Something you've been trained to deal with. So, deal with it."

"You're being unreasonable!" cried J'day.

"My Weyr -- my rules! Now, get out!"

"That's ridiculous!"

Dragons bugled and Gibbrenth's questioning voice sounded in his rider's head. J'day? Aeldiath insists we leave.

J'day glared at the older bronzerider. "Fine," he said aloud and to his dragon. "But this is not the end of this."

"Oh, sure," sneered L'mora. "Whine to your Weyrleader if you wish. T'rar cannot force me to do anything."

"Perhaps," J'day said, struggling to hold onto his temper. "But N'valen can. If that's what I have to do, then fine, but you are not punishing F'rian because of me."

He spun on his heel and stomped into the sleeping alcove. He jumped when he realized that F'rian was sitting on the edge, furs around his waist.

"J'day?" asked F'rian. He rubbed his eyes, still looking half-asleep in that adorable way he had, and more than a little confused and worried.

The bronzerider sat down beside him and took one of his hands to cup between his palms. "It's nothing, just a difference in opinion," he said.

"You're shaking," F'rian replied, frowning.

"I'm just angry."

"You're leaving?"

"Weyrleader L'mora has given me little choice. He's involved Aeldiath, and you know all dragons will obey the queen. Gibbrenth's waiting for me, but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I'm sorry to have interrupted your rest like this, you really needed the sleep."

F'rian shrugged. He set his other hand on top of their joined hands and leaned over to give J'day a shy kiss, blushing as he said, "Thank you."

J'day grinned. "I'm glad you liked it. I'm sorry, but I really have to go."

"Why?"

"The Weyrleader is upset with me, that's all, don't worry about it."

"Why, J'day?"

"He ... er, he wants me to come back to Fort Weyr and I don't want to."

F'rian blinked and rubbed his eyes again. "Why not? Aren't you from here?"

"Yes, but Igen's my home now. It's your home, and I won't leave you."

"Then I'll come, too."

J'day dropped off the sleeping couch to kneel in front of his weyrmate, taking both his hands and staring up into his face. "F'rian, Weyrleader L'mora would like you to stay here at Fort, permanently, but when you decide, when you think this over, you must do so without considering me. At all. Do you understand? If that's what you decide that you want to do, it has to be entirely your choice, and not something you think I'll want."

"But --"

"No. Your choice. Think about what you want. Stay at Igen or stay here. It doesn't matter to me, I'll support your decision. I do think you should at least talk to D'cor and T'rar, but it has to be your choice. They can't push you, or me, into doing anything. Remember that."

L'mora's voice called across the weyr, "I'm waiting, Bronzerider!"

J'day kissed F'rian's fingertips. "I've got to go, I'm sorry. This is not what I intended."

"But, J'day!" The greenrider rose as his weyrmate did, catching his arms, face strained. "What about ...?"

"Oh, don't worry," he answered lightly, though his jaw popped from grinding his teeth. "I'll be here. I don't know how yet, but either I'll be here or you'll be in Igen. I promise."

F'rian let him go and J'day picked up his pack. He didn't stop moving, knowing that if he looked back he'd lose control and he didn't want L'mora to see him weep. Instead, he fanned his anger, holding his head high and marching out of the weyr.

He had Gibbrenth harnessed in moments, buttoning up his wher-hide jacket after he'd climbed up onto the neck ridges. He bade Kelyrth farewell, stuffed his hands in his gloves, and gave his bronze the command to return to Igen Weyr. He stared down at Fort Weyr as they ascended.

This is far from over, L'mora, he thought. Far from over.