Uncontrollable Urges (S'rei)

[kysseh]

It would probably have been polite to offer up the necessary courtesy protests that she could walk on her own two feet, that she was largely recovered from the blood loss of several days prior, and that her sudden surge of hunger did not require an escort and special treatment to fix. However, when one was being doted upon with an unusual amount of care and affection, it was very hard to remember what propriety dictated that one should do in the event that one's weyrmate got it into his head to carry his woman to the kitchens for a late evening meal. Really, offering up too many protests would probably result in a cessation of attentions, and that was hardly desirable at the moment.

No, Aliscia was not in the mood to convince her weyrmate to stop his attentions toward her. If anything, the little greenrider was trying to squirm her way right through the bronzerider's shirt and into his skin, pressing into that lovely solid warmth that was his chest. When they had first known each other and even until recently, his size had frightened her, made her wary of him. Now, she welcomed it, welcomed that large physical presence that was endlessly warm and comforting. His hold on her was secure but not clingy, an important distinction, the greenrider thought happily as she watched the walls move on by. How jealous she was of his long legs, that they could eat up the ground so quickly. Her own legs were far too short too rival that kind of stride length. She had half or perhaps even less, she reckoned.

"Sorry. My stomach is grumbling," the greenrider said mournfully, one hand pressed to her abdomen and the other stroking the bronzerider's jaw. So handsome, her weyrmate. And so strong. And caring. And affectionate. And intelligent. And-

Oh, she was getting herself distracted again.

"What do you suppose we could scrounge up?" she inquired curiously, twisting a bit in his arms to peek at the area around them. "Maybe some fruit.... some fresh vegetables. I doubt they'll have much in the way of cooked meat, but who knows?" Her stomach was gnawing at her insides at the very thought, and she absentmindedly shushed it, poking her belly as if that action alone would fill her up and make the problem cease. Ah, but she wished that she had been gifted with some of her sister's culinary skills. Ellia... dear Ellia... had been the better cook and better girlchild since Aliscia's earliest memories. Gone now, of course, but that did not make the greenrider wish any less that she had inherited some of those skills or tricks. She was fairly convinced she could burn water.

Best to warn him before he got any funny ideas. "I'm not allowed near a stove. No pots, no pans, no ovens, no nothing. No cooking. Everything I cook is like... rocks. Charcoal, usually," she explained glumly, sighing in frustration as her stomach made a loud protest to its emptiness. "Oh, /hush/ you," she cursed at it since, yes, it could hear her and take note. Talking to one's body parts was completely normal, of course. "I fed you not /three/ candlemarks ago." The baby had probably stolen most of that meal, the tasty meatrolls and klah and pie that had been ever so tasty. Of course the baby had stolen it all. Easy to blame the baby, right? Sharding greedy little girl, wasn't she?

"Mother's daughter," the greenrider mumbled in quiet amusement before relaxing into her weyrmate's grasp. "How close are we?" Looking around took effort, after all.

[Requiem]

He chuckled, turning his head to press his lips into her palm. "That it is. You'd think you were neglecting it." It was unusual for Aliscia to allow him to pamper her, really, so he was willing to take advantage of it on the rare occasion that it cropped up. Such a small woman...she fit nicely in his arms. (Aside from that, he didn't care to let her out of his sight tonight, so if one of them was going to the kitchens to scavenge, he was determined that they both were.)

Being as busy as he was had some definite drawbacks, though Aliscia had been surprisingly supportive, especially considering she had all those extra hormones whispering evil to her. Laurie had been prone to emotional outbursts and throwing things, sometimes of a dangerous heft at a most inconvenient speed. And Shmee...well, the woman had left to go live on the beach. By comparison, Aliscia was easy to deal with. (Of course, they still had six months to go. He might be a bit premature here.)

Life was all about living from one happy moment to the next, really...and working in between to make sure there was another happy moment. And yes, right now he was all too content, listeining to Lish griping at her protesting stomach.

"She hasn't quite made a little butterball out of you yet. Not doing her job, is she?" His hand slid over Aliscia's abdomen, finding the small swelling where he knew it would be. His. And, for once...not some random dalliance, not an 'Oh, Rei, I'm pregnant,' from a weyrmate out of the blue. Aliscia had said she wanted a child and, against his better judgment, he'd capitulated. Agreed. Why? She wanted one that wasn't an accident, and though he didn't like the timing and he felt he was getting old...time was unlikely to change either of those factors. It made her happy, though, and the idea had grown on him. He was amazingly fond of his unborn child by this point.

"We're going to have to bake together, love; between the two of us we can probably produce enough hard, bone-shattering missiles to protect the Weyr for a decade. I can't bake to save my life." And really, why would anyone expect him to be able to do so? "Miguel and Shei have always liked my soup, though - and Rys." Though he respected the man enough to at least attempt to use his full name when Ka'rys was present, it always came out shortened when he wasn't thinking about it. "You think my girls are willing to try it? I always pack it with veggies."

Stepping into the kitchens, he found the glowbaskets, uncovering them and setting his weyrmate up on the counter before nosing about in an oven. "They've usually got warm bread...ah, here. You can munch on this while you wait," he stated with a small smile, handing the bread to her and kissing her lightly on the forehead, the bronzerider turning away to raid the pantry.

[kysseh]

“Neglecting it terribly,” Aliscia muttered, unable to help the smile that quirked up the corners of her mouth in response to the lips that pressed to her palm. Why those little touches gave her such a quiet thrill was beyond her, but it did not stop her from enjoying those contacts as they came. There was a sudden urge to fling her arms around his neck, attach her mouth to his, and forget the food in favor of a good snuggle. Thankfully for her stomach, the moment passed, and she returned to simply curling into the bronzerider’s chest, content for the moment to be carried and spoiled.

When his hand sought her abdomen, though, her own hand simply had to follow it, resting atop it for just the briefest of moments. It delighted and relieved her when he was affectionate in that manner towards their unborn (and perpetually hungry) child, perhaps because it felt like he was warming up to the idea more than he had at first. She had felt guilty at first, when it seemed he was humoring her. Now, on the brief occasion when he seemed more excited than she, he seemed more… eager. Then again, he wasn’t the one carrying the little one, which Aliscia refused to call ‘it’ and instead called it a girl based on nothing more than instinct.

“Butterball?!” the little woman demanded in dramatic protest unable to let him get away with such a comment. “I am not going to be a butterball. A boulder, maybe, but not for awhile.” While she was completely convinced that there was no rounding of her frame yet, her protests were mainly for the purpose of demonstrating. Why bother really arguing with the man? He would only tease her and delight in every protest she made. S’rei was a strange man like that. “I can’t cook anything. They kicked me out of the hold’s kitchens at ten Turns old, and my father took me on the boat just to keep the women in kitchens from dying of horror at the different strains of charcoal I made.”

The memory of that made the greenrider snicker softly, wriggling a bit in her weyrmate’s grasp. “Ahh, everyone will tremble in fear of our slingshot ammunition. Skulls will be crushed, bodies will be mutilated…” It had been awhile since she felt free to be so… so… childish. She was enjoying every moment of it, though, and on an impulse, she stretched upward and firmly planted a kiss on her weyrmate’s mouth. There. Just because she felt like it. “I’d love to try your soup. I trust your vegetables won’t turn into bland, colorless… mush.” No one liked mush, after all, except infants, the elderly, and those with no sense of taste. Disgusting.

The woman straightened immediately when she was sat on the counter, her legs dangling over the edge and swinging like a child’s. “I will wait patiently and stuff my face in the meantime,” she commented drolly, her near-gold eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she took the bread and immediately began tearing off pieces to go down her throat. Delicious… just delicious. She was starving.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and she leaned over to peer toward the pantry where her weyrmate had disappeared. Should she…? Shouldn’t she? She should, she reckoned. “Rei, does… me being pregnant turn you off?” It was a worry that had been plaguing her mind for a good sevenday and one that she had refused to acknowledge for that moment. Now, though, with all of her basic needs being filled and her mind in a general sense of satisfaction from his nearness, she felt it had to be asked. Why not, after all? Some men genuinely hated the look and feel of a pregnant woman’s body. It would not have made him unusual in many respects, and the thought made her distinctly upset, to consider that she might be unattractive to him.

[Requiem]

That decided it. Such vehement protests to 'butterball'...that was going to be his term for her from here on out. A boulder, tch. As if Aliscia could imitate a boulder.

"Some romantic picture you're painting here," he commented, amused. "Do pregnant woman often get hot talking about charcoal, bashing skulls in with rock cookies and making the blood fly, and vegetable mush?"

He grunted questioningly at the sound of his name, rooting around in the pantry for what he needed to throw some soup together. Vegetables, obviously. Only the fresh ones, though...dried vegetables he wasn't terribly fond of. Butter. Oil. Some dried meat that should boil down fine, though he preferred fresh meat...they wouldn't leave that out overnight, though. All extra had been salted and stored by now.

Slipping back out with his arms laden, a brow rose at Aliscia, his gaze traveling down her legs as they moved and up again. Absolutely adorable. Was it terrible that he liked just how childlike an image his weyrmate presented? (To be truthful, though, part of his amusement was just how dangerous the woman could be when...well, not placed on a counter by her weyrmate and nibbling at a warm loaf of bread.)

"Absolutely disgusting. Couldn't possibly imagine touching a pregnant woman...especially if she was bearing my child." He smiled gently at her. "Lish, you're gorgeous...and you don't even go flabby like most pregnant women. Just stretch nice and tight. I've got a soft spot for butterballs." His eyes half-lidded. Couldn't resist teasing her, now could he? Of course not.

Locating a knife, he began dicing up the vegetables. "There's nothing you're allergic to, is there?"

[kysseh]

He had such a strange way of thinking of things, but that did not stop Aliscia from snickering in response to his simplified summary of their conversation. One of her feet paused in its kicking to brush against his leg as he passed, her eyes glinting brightly in amusement. “You phrase things so delicately, handsome. I think pregnant women are a strange foreign breed, so you may just have to accept that you can’t understand us. Of course… I can’t say I’ve been around that many pregnant women, so never mind.” Her smirk returned in full force to replace the look of contemplation, her feet resuming their rhythmic swinging back and forth beneath the counter edge “So maybe I’m just different.”

Her body leaned itself toward his work area, unable to resist the sight of such tempting morsels so close within her reach. She did not touch, mostly because her fingers had a desire to stay attached to the rest of her body. Knives were sharp, after all. “I’m getting hungrier just watching you,” she muttered quietly, still nibbling on her loaf of bread without the slightest concern for manners or propriety. She was hungry, shardit. And pregnant. That excused all need for manners, right? Right. Besides, S’rei was hardly setting a good example, the way his eyes had wandered down her legs that way. Improper, indeed, though not at all unwelcome.

In fact, she felt the need to sit a little straighter and point her toes as her feet dangled, just to see if that new change pleased him.

Of course, all her efforts seemed wholly irrelevant at his first words, and Aliscia would have had to have been deaf to miss the teasing note to his voice. His smile was met with a faint blush of her own, her gaze flicking over his body in obvious appreciation and gratitude. “Well, when you use words like ‘gorgeous,’ it’s hard to doubt you-“

Oh, no… he hadn’t.

“I am not a butterball,” she said very primly, thrusting her little chin up into the air. “I am not flabby, and I am not round, and I am not a butterball.” So she was just being difficult, even though he had already stated she was not flabby or soft, but shardit, if she was going to lie down and let him call her a butterball, even if it did make her want to squirm with delight upon hearing it. Something about being pregnant with his child made her incredibly hot, though she decided to stick out her tongue at him anyway in between bites. Just because.

“I’m allergic only to snobby attitudes… my own included,” the greenrider said archly with the most dramatic faked sneeze she could manage. “See? Allergic to my own attitude. How ridiculous is that?” That would make him laugh, she reasoned. She did so love to hear her weyrmate laugh, even if it was at her.

[Requiem]

S'rei flicked bits of vegetables at her - quite innocently, of course, seeing as how she was complaining of ravenous hunger. He was just trying to be helpful. Obviously. Nor did it have anything to do with her teasing attempts with her legs. He was sure that was what she was doing, though he rather thought whatever effect she had in mind wasn't what was actually happening. It just served to make it look like she'd slide off the counter at any moment.

"Flabby you are not, round you will be, and I wasn't referring to right this instant, Miss Priss," he commented, flicking more vegetables at her with the intention of catching her across that erect chin of hers. "Woefully, my weyrmate will not be quite at butterball status for a few months yet." Not so woefully, actually. He would have to find someone to shadow her once Aliscia began truly showing, and S'rei knew that would be something of a battle. The greenrider, able as she was, would hardly submit to such a thing easily. She would submit, though. No choice for either of them.

Was that a tongue wiggling at him? S'rei leaned in and stole a kiss before it could retreat, sticking a sliver of pepper on her nose as he pulled back. Hah. Good to know that two riders in their thirties were so mature. Her comment drew a chuckle and a glance from him, his expression clearly indicating that he found her antics ever so ridiculous. "I'd imagine that would make things a bit difficult for you," he commented drolly.

Dumping the vegetables into a skillet with butter, he already had a pot with the meat, oil and water boiling. Sizzling and bubbling could be heard, and, though he wasn't much of a cook, he'd spent enough of his childhood in the kitchens - being forced to peel potatoes or attempting to filch when the drudges had their backs turned - that it was a comforting sound. Another glance, and he saw that the pepper still had managed to go unnoticed and unmolested.

With something of a jaunty smile, he leaned over again, eating it off her nose. "Had something there." Poking her, he peeked over at the boiling water, then stepped closer and leaned up against the counter, watching her kicking legs. "You act more like a child than Miguel, you know that?" he questioned, with no small amount of affection.

[kysseh]

She felt like a pet, snapping at bits of vegetable as they flew towards her. Remarkably, she actually managed to catch them all, either in hand or mouth. Some required more contortion than others, but Aliscia hardly minded the exercise. The pregnancy was starting to wear on her more than she liked, but the greenrider still found herself bouncing with energy at times, unable to contain her on-the-go nature. At least biting for veggies was keeping her in shape, in between stolen mouthfuls of bread.

“I wouldn’t be too hasty about whining over my shape,” the greenrider snickered softly, lowering her chin to snap for another tidbit. “This is what happened last time too. Nice and small and then…. poof!” She spread her hands--one still clutching her half-eaten bread--with enthusiasm. Her expression turned somewhat mournful for a moment and then returned to blissful contentment, the bread returning to its spot near her mouth for nibbling. “Just you wait. One morning you’ll wake up, and you’ll be rolling me out of bed. But not now and not… soon.”

The very thought of getting fat should have been enough to negate some of her appetite, but the gnawing in her stomach was overriding that. The kiss received was returned in kind, with an extra caress of her knuckle along his jawline. Her tongue had not been able to retreat in time and happily twined around his, her protests only starting once he pulled himself away. “Very difficult,” she mumbled quietly, the corners of her mouth turning downward in a pout as he returned his attention to his cooking. It was an amusing image, the strong giant weyrleader fussing over cookware. Not an unappealing image, though, and she hummed softly in appreciation, her brows knitting together in confusion as he approached and-

Wait, where had his mouth just gone?

She started a bit in surprise and then snuck in a playful nibble at his jawline. “You must have put it there. I got the rest of them.” The light in her near-gold eyes was evidence of her good humor, even as she delicately crossed her legs at the ankle and let them dangle limply. Enough of the swinging. It was pulling on various muscles. “I know I do, handsome. Making up for… Turns of acting beyond my age,” she said quietly, the side of her mouth unmarred by scars curling upward in a faint sort of smile. “Speaking of Miguel, I hope he doesn’t have a horrible aversion to being an older… brother all over again.” Older brother… was not wholly accurate by blood relation, but it worked for what counted, she thought.

Her bread was set aside, and she extended both hands palm downward to him, fully appreciating the fact that she probably looked like a young weyrbrat seeking attention. “I need longer arms.” A deflecting statement, for sure, considering all she wanted was to touch him. Not fair that he was moving in and out of reach. Not fair at all.

[Requiem]

"He understands the concept well enough, if that's what you mean. He was even good with Shei, so I'd venture to say he likes having younger children around." Smiling down at her, he shook his head at her posture, being just a little evil and reaching over with his much longer arm to poke her lightly on the nose. "Then you'd need longer legs to match, and that would look just a bit weird. I like you the size you are, doll." Not least of which because he could do evil things like he was doing now. Or stand straight as she tried to reach him. S'rei would never do that, though, would he?

...

Evil nature aside, the Weyrleader had another reason for being close to his weyrmate - and particularly indulgent - tonight. The man pushed himself upright and swung around, pressing apart her knees gently so he could position himself between the, his palms planted on either side of her hips. His kiss was playful and teasing, and somehow found it's way to her eyes as well. He reached up and flicked at the hair he'd cut short for her so it didn't look like a featureless helmet (less for him and more because Aliscia still had some insecurities about the scars on her face, and the look couldn't help that confidence much) leaning forward until she had to practically lie flat.

The second kiss was more lingering, the man gently suckling on her lower lip. He left off there, though, because his intention really hadn't been to work them both up in the kitchens before the soup was even ready. She was hungry, after all. Brushing the bangs from her forehead, he smiled down at her, a slight wry turn to the edge of his lips. "So then. You told me you were holdborn, right?"

Not waiting for an answer, he dug into the pocket of his trousers, fishing out the small box he'd been carrying around for the last few days in case an opportunity presented itself. S'rei was good at reading the moods of people, if nothing else, and now seemed like a good time. Playing around in the privacy of a public place long since abandoned to the night. Yes, the setting was good. Pulling back a little more, he took one of her hands by the wrist, pressed the box into her palm.

A brow rose slightly. "So go on then. Open it."

[kysseh]

Oooh, but he was mean.

“I’m not a toy,” Aliscia murmured softly, dropping her hands to her lap in defeat. The affectionate nickname did not bother her as much as it had before, but it still made her feel a bit wounded, an emotion that was magnified by hormones and the fact that he poked her nose and remained out of her reach in that infuriatingly smug manner. “But I still want longer arms.” Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, instead idly tracing the edge of the bandage around her upper arm. The injury was healing, but it still smarted, especially with all of the use she was exposing the arm to. Sitting idle made her more unstable.

So absorbed was she in her brief moment of moping that it startled her when her weyrmate applied pressure to her knees. It was pure instinct that had her parting her legs, sliding them around her weyrmate’s thighs without a hint of thought for the public nature of their situation. Her arms went carefully around his neck, holding him to her with as much fervor as she could manage. The playful kiss made her previous upset evaporate in favor of the gentle teasing he provided. It was hard to stay angry with the man who tolerated her mood swings, (mostly) indulged her whims, and treated her with such care. Love. Love was a good word for it, but S’rei disliked that word, disliked its overuse. She mumbled it to herself, even as she leaned back under his guidance.

Her muscles were quivering with the effort to keep herself partially upright, so she eventually settled herself back flat, curling her toes against his thighs. Her face was flushed, the gentle suckling on her lip making it difficult to keep from throwing herself at him. Only the grumbling of her stomach and the tenderness with which he touched her made her stop, her near-gold watching the motions of his hands with mixed curiosity and enthusiasm. Her lips parted on a soft noise of query that ended at the turn of his mouth, her expression transforming to pure curiosity.

“Yes, I’m holdborn. Half a life ago, though. Why? Did you have questions about hold functioning or-- what?” The strategic thoughts that had momentarily dominated her mind vanished when he produced a little box for her. She hesitantly watched as he placed the box in her hand, glancing forth between him and it with some confusion. A… box? Why a box? Was it for trinkets? He knew she really didn’t keep many, didn’t he? It seemed a strange sort of gift, and she released his neck from her other hand, holding the little gift in both hands. “Didn’t… didn’t we talk about giving me presents?” she stuttered out, her feet rubbing lightly against the back of his thighs.

So strange. Why did he want her to open it? She turned the box over and over in her hands, analyzing and curious. “Better not be a bug,” she grumbled teasingly at him, flicking a smile up at him before the implication of the box penetrated her hunger-fogged brain. Her eyes widened almost comically, and she stared at the thing in her hands. “It’s not… you… but…”

She opened it, looking more to him than to the contents. “Are you…? But dragonriders…” So eloquent she was.

[Requiem]

He winced slightly, shooting her an apologetic look, brief though it was. S'rei was getting better about it, no doubt of that, but sometimes the terms of endearment shifted that direction. It didn't help that he was always aware of how small she was. How could he not be? Even though he wasn't a mountain like one of the smiths, or even as well-built as Ka'rys, for that matter, he was still a decidedly large individual, and Aliscia hit the complete other end of the spectrum. It amused him often, the glaring difference in their sizes, but she had her own reasons for finding those words upsetting that had nothing to do with pride like her protestations of 'butterball.'

Giving her presents? He merely raised a brow, waiting, a slight smirk touching his lips as she yielded against him. Aliscia, don't protest this one. Honestly. Of course, he had very little idea what he was doing or even if it was being done right. Beyond the basic premise...the traditions were a fuzz. S'rei knew more about hold matters that the average weyrbred man, simply because he was observant and his business took him to holds on occasion. Still, details regarding this particular ritual weren't something to be found in such brief visits.

And yes, it was highly irregular. He didn't contest that.

Bug? Now he snorted, wrinkling his nose at her. A bug. She had quite an imagination, didn't she. Ah, there it was, dawning comprehension. Leaning forward again, he silenced her stammering with his mouth, pulling back and toying with one strand of hair. "So what?" A soft chuckle. "Typical of a holdbred girl...bound by convention. As far as I understand, that simply represents a promise. You have my twins, Lish. The child you keep on insisting is a daughter," he added teasingly, his hand resting lightly on her abdomen for a moment. "Do you think I would have agreed to another child if I didn't intend to keep you both in my life?"

It seemed ever so simple in his mind. "My parents were together since before my eldest brother's conception...over twenty-five turns. It's difficult in a Weyr, yes, but not unheard of. Not at Selenitas." He poked her lightly on the nose. "Unless you were planning on being rid of me after I served my role as sperm donor?" Teasing again, though there was just the barest hint of questioning to it. Being used was nothing unfamiliar to the bronzerider.

Pushing up and away from her with the aid of the counter, he turned back to the soup suddenly, as much to keep from crowding Aliscia as to make sure it wasn't becoming scorched and the vegetables going 'mushy'.

[kysseh]

S’rei could have been less condescending in the way he looked at her, but Aliscia’s inner holdbred adolescent self could scarcely stop its wriggling with joy. Her heart raced, flushing her face crimson as the full implication of the situation was made obvious. He wanted her, wanted her for good. As much as her two former weyrmates had fussed and fawned and coddled, never had they even considered something of this nature. Both had been holdborn, but neither had even thought to mention it. Aliscia herself had long-since given up on hold traditions and ways of doing things.

Or… so she had fooled herself into believing, anyway.

Her mouth parted lightly under his touch, the splutters and stammers of confusion silenced as she pulled back a bit and stared at him, oblivious to the way he toyed with her hair. Her hands cradled the box as if it were breakable, precious, and she didn’t dare touch the object inside. It would break, then, and she would wake up, and it would all have been the most horrible and teasing kind of dream. “No… I don’t think you would have kept us. I just didn’t think… dragonriders don’t really get these luxuries. Lifelong mates,” she murmured softly, unable to stop the forming tears. She quickly rubbed her face on the sleeve of her good arm to cover. Stupid sharding hormones.

Her nose wrinkled under the poke, an action which served to make the snarky dragonrider replace the joyful and weepy hold girl quickly enough. She sniffed lightly, an action that was more practical than demonstrating attitude. Covering again, of course, for the fact that she was ever so emotional over the thought that he wanted her for good. It seemed too ludicrous, but-

“I wouldn’t get rid of you. Ever. Even if you made me horribly angry,” came her fierce reply, one hand releasing the box to touch his arm as he pulled away. “I adore you and being with you. You drive me crazy, and I hope I do the same to you. I don’t want to be away from you.” Blunt honesty at its finest. She did not say the ‘L’ word, though, that cursed word. S’rei didn’t like it, and given the fact that he had her nearly wriggling—oh, wait, she was wriggling—with joy, she would happily respect that wish. The back of her free hand swiped casually at her eyes following another sniffle. “Steam bothering my eyes,” she muttered, as if he would believe it.

Once the sniffles and tears had cleared, she extended the box toward him expectantly, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a decidedly shy smile. “Suppose we have to visit a crafter, then. And… you know, it’s technically a hold tradition for the man to place it on his woman’s finger. Sign of possession or something ridiculous like that.” A ridiculous tradition that the little woman happened to like. Independent though she was about many things, it still made her dance inside to hear him refer to her as his woman. Stupid thought, really. “And I think you’re… supposed to… ask or something, but I guess that’s pointless at this stage. You know my answer.”

Her stomach grumbled audibly, and she growled back down at it, irritated with reality for intruding on the snippet of time in which she wanted to laugh, cry, squeal, and scream all at once. “Shush, you. We’re having a moment.” As if it could hear.

[Requiem]

Lifelong mates. He didn't reply to that, except internally. S'rei had already had two lifelong mates...and much as he joked that thirty-eight was old, to be on his third this early was indeed early to be on his third. Lifelong mates were the norm for S'rei...they just didn't tend to have long lives. It was a rather morbid thing to say, though, and he didn't.

Fiddling with his pot of soup, he kept within reach of her touch, the words soothing what little doubts he may have had. And yes, they were few and far between. It was probably unbelievably arrogant to assume that she wouldn't reject his...gesture? But, arrogant or no, there was absolutely no sign in her behavior over the past months to suggest otherwise. Aliscia was attached. He'd been around long enough to have a pretty good idea when a woman was. There was a certain convenience to having the mother of your children living with you...and a certain convenience to having a woman there to see to physical needs as it was. Emotionally? He'd found her to be surprisingly good at listening, though he'd really only opened up because she seemed to need that. Some women were much more content believing that their weyrmate was unshakeable. Though she'd never really seen him genuinely upset, so there was still time for that particular trait to come out.

Genuinely fond of her he was. Love he resisted. Did he love her? Probably. Maybe. The fondness outweighed fondness he had for others, all except his own children and his nephew. And, of course, his mindmates, which were really just extensions of himself so he didn't know exactly where they fell in the grand scheme of things when you began tallying it all up.

He could honestly reply with one thing, however. "I don't want to be away from you, either, woman." She made life palatable, despite all the issues and headaches. He hadn't exploded yet, which was frankly surprising, and must have a lot to do with her influence. She really was the only new factor, after all. His temper remained one of his greatest weaknesses, when it could be coaxed to life. Or unbottled. "I'd stop up the steam, but then that stomach of yours wouldn't get filled, and we can't have that," he uttered teasingly, just to be a pain. He often did things just to be a pain.

Turning back to her, a brow lifted slightly. "Hold tradition, is it?" Clearly, his knowledge of such traditions was partial at best. At least he'd gotten part of it right? "I didn't know men wore them, too. Most hold men I meet wear rings, but they wear them on all their fingers." To show off their wealth - and power, but since power often was wealth he really didn't differentiate.

Slipping back over, he stole the ring from her and slid it gently onto her finger. "There. And thanks for saying yes to the question I didn't ask." He winked, then, and planted another kiss on her before turning back. "Soup should be finished here shortly. There are bowls in the cabinet above your head, if you want to fish a couple out."

[kysseh]

Her weyrmate seemed very preoccupied with his cooking, and despite Aliscia’s own inner turmoil, the greenrider could not help but wonder what the bronzerider was thinking. One of her little hands ran along what of his arm she could reach, a soft noise like a croon echoing in her throat at his words. “Glad to hear it, handsome. You’re stuck with me,” she chuckled faintly, her knees coming together as her ankles crossed and began to swing lazily over the edge of the counter. “Since my stomach won’t be quiet and let us have some peace until it’s fed, I’ll suffer through the steam.” Her tone was purposefully just a bit on the dramatic side, intending to amuse him more than he already was.

“Hold men who wear many rings don’t do much work with their hands.” With all that implied too, Aliscia thought with a faint smirk. “The average hold men… they wear just one simple ring. Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate or ornate or… showy. Something simple,” she murmured, her eyes brightening to match her smile as he turned his attention to her. Even so, her stomach twisted with some nervousness. “That’s… if you want one.” As weyrleader, he was supposed to set a good example for the riders, and perhaps this wouldn’t qualify. She was unsure. There was the additional issue that he just might not want one…

Her eyes followed the movements of his fingers, watching as he settled the ring--a perfect fit. . . how had he managed that?!--carefully onto her finger. It felt surprisingly light on her hand. The sensation was strange but not at all unwelcome, and the greenrider could not help but offer up a wistful smile for what could not be. Nothing was certain… in affection or war, and they had both, among other things, with which to contest. It was a promise, but she feared for it, for both of them and for those under their care.

The kiss was received with a contented hum, her tiny hands reaching out to take possession of one of his much larger ones. Surveying her meal again, he was. Too bad. She was keeping this hand for the moment. “You don’t have to thank me for being genuine,” she said softly, surprised to find that none of the usual attitude could manifest itself in her tone. Strange. She lifted his larger hand towards her mouth, delicately pressing her lips to each knuckle in turn as her near-gold eyes steadily gazed towards his face. It was hard to communicate affection devoid of teasing, and as of yet, Aliscia had not discovered a proper method. This seemed right, though, and so she acted, one hand still cradling his even as she twisted her body around to access the bowls. That physical contact couldn’t end just yet.

“Bowl for you…” she mumbled softly, settling the dish on the counter beside her. Ahh, now she saw where her bread had gone to. That was for later. “Bowl for me. Where are the spoons hiding?” She set her own bowl beside his and resumed rummaging through the cabinets as best she could. It was awkward with her body twisted about and one of her hands occupied with holding to him, but shuffling through objects was something she did well. Good practice from sorting through belongings, she reasoned. “These are huge. Will they do?” she snickered suddenly, withdrawing two large stirring spoons. “I don’t think they’re supposed to be there.” She was no great kitchen organizer, but didn’t all utensils belong together? That would have made more sense.

[Requiem]

“The horror,” he commented dryly. “My poor, neglected, abused weyrmate. It’s a wonder all of Selenitas doesn’t rise up and lynch me at how I treat you. Death by steam.” He wrinkled his nose and pinched her hand lightly to show that he, too, was teasing, something she might not be able to tell with his face turned away and the wry tone. S’rei’s humor tended to be flat…and often not at all good, though Salenth liked it so he hardly felt a need to change.

His eyes traveled over to hers rather blankly, catching the change to her tone that meant she’d thought she’d just said something rather clever and naughty. For the life of him, though, he could not divine what it was. Everything she’d said had been perfectly true, after all. Men who worked with their hands – common laborers – preferred not to wear an overabundance of rings. It got in the way. Simple he could do though, and he nodded in acquiescence. If he owned her in some abstract sort of way, she possessed him as well, so it only made sense, he supposed. Just had never thought of it really. He knew women seemed to make a bigger deal over it in the holds, and that was about it.

A small frown graced his lips at the kisses on his knuckles, one of puzzlement more than ought else. He reached over with his other hand and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, a brow raised in silent questioning. It didn’t feel bad or anything, but he wasn’t used to simple affection from Aliscia. She was more the sarcastic, feisty variety.

“I think you have something of mine,” he teased quietly, making a show of trying to pull his hand away as she dug for bowls and spoons. The spoons she produced brought a laugh to his throat, though. “For a giant and one of the biggest mouths in the weyr? No, I think those will do perfectly,” he commented, still chuckling, and stole the bowls away to ladle the soup into it left-handed, which was a rather awkward thing at best. He was not ambidextrous by any stretch of the imagination.

Finally, though, he handed her the bowl and giant spoon with his free hand, still not actively bothering to extract himself from her grip while he picked up his own food and eased back between her legs so he could hold the bowl in front of him with that captured wrist still in her possession. He leaned back further and brushed his lips against her jaw, eating a bite happily. “Well, then, you’ve got a problem now. How are you going to eat with a captured weyrmate?”

[kysseh]

The pinch to her hand was met with an overly dramatized sigh, the greenrider wriggling a bit in her spot as if to escape the ‘affection.’ It did not escape Aliscia’s notice that her weyrmate was being funny, though she gathered that was because she had been the first to giggle on the subject. “Rise up in envy about how much you spoil me would be more apt,” she said mildly, wishing he was within range of her mouth. She had plans for him, she did, but there was only so far a short woman could reach without the risk of falling off her perch. Thus, she had to settle for his hand for the moment and hope the rest will follow.

Oh, but… why wasn’t he happy about her affection?

S’rei looked confused, if nothing else, and the greenrider kept hold of his hand at his insistence, clasping it despite the tugging that should have freed it. No, no, no… he wasn’t getting it, was he? Of course he wasn’t, she thought a bit huffily. The one time she really wanted to get a message across, he wasn’t getting it. A new tactic would be necessary. “My mouth isn’t that big, and you know it,” was the lofty reply she managed, her nose wrinkling slightly. One of the biggest mouths in the weyr…. hmph. He knew that was untrue, but he was teasing, so he got a pass. Besides, the greenrider was far more absorbed with the idea of reassuring him of her affection, an intention that was being rapidly derailed by his behavior, sharding man.

Her free hand took the bowl he offered, snickering quietly in amusement at the sight of the giant spoon and his awkwardness in handling the whole affair with one hand. Ridiculous. That utensil would never fit into her mouth. Facial scars made it hard to open one’s jaws very far, as Aliscia had discovered in the past few Turns, and she was going to have to settle for slurping the soup off that spoon. So graceful. Undoubtedly, her weyrmate would have some comment on that too, shard him. But it had been such a sight to see him working with one hand. Skilled… hand…

Oops, there went her focus again.

Before her stomach could be satisfied, though, a very pressing issue had to be dealt with. The soup bowl was carefully set aside on the counter as the bronzerider came in close, her feet sneaking around the back of his thighs to hold him there. Trapped, he was. No escaping from her this time. “I have something to do before I can free my captured weyrmate,” she said quite solemnly, her free hand tangling in his hair to bring his mouth to hers. The feel of lips along her jaw had been quite nice, but they were distracting from her aim. Time for real kisses now.

She took her time, ignoring the grumblings of her stomach for that brief moment. When she was finished, her cheek pressed lightly against his. “I know I’m not so good with words… or showing you that I care,” the women admitted quietly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. Earnest, she was. Eager that he realize he wasn’t a game. The mere thought of him thinking that made her stomach twist. Or… perhaps that was the hunger. Who could tell? “But… I do care, even when I’m terrible at it. Even when we argue.” Which was often. “There really wasn’t any other answer to the question you didn’t ask. Only answer I could give without being a liar… or a coward.”