Better late than never [F'ur]

[Requiem]

Slave. F'lix had Impressed quite the personality, hadn't he? F'ur was hardly about to argue with a little green salamandyr, however, and she didn't seem upset so he just did the 'smile and nod' dance with her. He wasn't exactly sure why the green had decided he was her slave, but...okay.

He eyed F'lix's stretched position through half-slitted eyes, wondering what was getting into him this morning. Sure, the kid had always held appeal, but he usually wasn't so easily distracted. Hmph. F'ur visibly jumped when F'lix moved to sit up, though it had absolutely nothing to do with F'lix. The bluerider blinked, frowning in the direction of the salamandyrs. Of course, F'lix likely would know why F'ur was twitching anyway, given Terror was anything but quiet.

NOOOOO. MIIIINNNNEEEE.

It was going to eat him! Why did his clutchbrother want to eat him when there was so much perfectly decent food in the bowl...?! He frilled at his clutchbrother and tried to get out of the way, but the tackle hit him, stunning him for a moment, and he quivered. Save me save me save me, he whimpered to His. Why wasn't his savior helping? He was going to be eaten!

Then he realized...he wasn't being eaten at all. The salamandyr stared up at the meat being offered to him. What? Gifts? Glancing past Simper at the bowl, he saw no nasties coming toward him, and His wasn't coming, so it must be safe, right? His reassured him. Yes, yes safe. Terror took the meat tentatively, crooning to his clutchbrother and nibbling at it before his hunger got the better of him. Yummy food. He rubbed himself against Simper. Speaking in imitation of Simper's more broken language, he responded, Terror Savior's. Savior let, Terror Simper's. More, yes. Please? The green one scared him, but this one was nice.

F'ur retrieved the sandwich, following F'lix's progress with his eyes and smirking just a little as the shorts began to fall. Definitely thin. F'ur wasn't very large around the waist himself, and yet his clothes were too big for F'lix. The kid definitely needed to stop forgetting, but he didn't look bad. Not at all. Just could handle a little more flesh on his bones.

Munching on the food, he spared one more glance for Terror, making sure the mandyr was fine, but the blue seemed quite pleased to be snuggling with his clutchbrother. Which...gave F'ur the odd urge to just cuddle with F'lix. He blinked. Stepping after the younger man, he leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah. Ino's asleep," he commented dryly. F'ur polished off the sandwich in another couple bites, sliding in behind F'lix. "Thanks for the food. I'm always hungry." His hands slid down, taking the shirt and sliding it off F'lix's shoulders.

He couldn't resist tracing the curve of the man's neck with the back of his fingers. Probably had something to do with Terror's enthusiasm toward Simper, but he didn't mind. Enough of it was F'ur that he couldn't really mind. "Do you want me to help?" he asked the younger man, his voice having deepened into a soft rasp.

[rii]

Odd pale clutchbrother, Terrorhis. Saveyou, saveyou, Simper musically echoed while twisting around the other. He didn't know what Terror needed saving from, perhaps it was a game. Yes, they could play it later, but right now they would eat. Scampering over to the bowl, Simper paused upon seeing his dark sister perched on the ledge, blocking access to the meat. Lililove no share?

No. Her tail snapped down toward her brother–who hopped forward so it caught him on the end of his nose. Amusement began to whirl in her eyes, though she frilled in the direction of Terror; the venomous green sticking out against her dark hide. She had not given that one permission to eat. Not fair? As if she cared. He had to earn his right to eat.

Before any bickering could ensue, F'lix dipped his hand into the bowl and dropped a small pile next to Terror before disappearing into the bathroom. Annoyance emitted from his little wicked mindmate; But, as if he cared. Though he doubted that would solve anything, the wheels in Lilitu's mind were beginning to turn. Not a good thing when he could feel his own salamandyr plotting against him.

F'lix began inspecting his clothing for their level of dryness, pausing to cast a curious glance over his shoulder at F'ur. The man wasn't honestly going to stand there and watch him change, was he? A bit unnerving. "Mm," A noncommittal reply toward the food–though the information was filed away. If the rate in which F'ur devoured the sandwich didn't speak of the man's constant appetite, the food stuffed into the cabinets did. And–

–F'lix froze. Not quite tensing up, but he didn't make any motions to finish taking off the shirt or pulling it back down. The twinge in his spine reminded him of the bruise across his lower back that more or less gave shape to the responsible blunt weapon. Along with the more faded bruises on his ribs and left hip–but what suddenly had F'lix at unease were the scars littered across his torso that spoke a strange story of pain; if one took the time to make sense of the marks. The last time F'ur had seen him as such, the words disgusting had come out.. cowardly, weak, stupid.. a worm to me.. It all played back, F'lix's eyes darkening in that moment. Sure, that had been before.. but that didn't dull the memory. F'lix remembered the entire thing as if it had just happened a moment ago–and the feelings he had then twisted in his stomach.

The touch sent a wave of goosebumps down his back, never quite breaking the skin, merely making hairs rise on end. That, and the tone in F'ur's voice drew F'lix out of his momentary stupor. Slowly reaching up, fingers passed through his dark hair before both hands curled around the bunched up shirt, pulling it off completely. With a turn of his head, F'lix studied F'ur from the corners of his eyes. A small step taken backwards, almost moving into the older man–but, as always, hovering barely a breath's space away. F'lix chin inclined slightly, in a way elongating his neck while he still had it turned, as if silently offering the bared flesh to F'ur–but whether the case or not, F'lix still used the motion to peer down at F'ur's foot; more importantly the healed inked lines.

"I have the sneaking suspicion you only want to help with the 'taking off' part." The words softly teasing, along with the glance he flicked up to the man's face. F'lix reached out, taking his own dry shirt from the hook on the wall. The jest of: help me and I help you toyed across his tongue but F'lix let it pass. "That's only half the work."

[Requiem]

Terror watched, making a small, indecipherable noise when his Simperfriend was struck. That wasn't very nice! If only he wasn't sure the mean greenie would rip him he'd say something, but instead he edged forward, biting down lightly on Simper's tail and attempting to get him to come back. Away from the mean one. It was okay. He wasn't that hungry, really.

Shadow. Squeaking, he let go of Simper's tail and darted behind a cup left lying on its side, peering around the edge. Food? Good shadow had given him food? Edging out, he nosed at it tentatively. Was there something wrong with it? There must be something wrong with it. Why else would it be out of the bowl? Another sniff. It didn't smell bad though, and he was hungry. Since the greenie wasn't letting anyone near - and no way would he try to get past the scary one! - he supposed it would do. Terror began bolting the food down before anyone else could take it from him.

F'lix was still, but F'ur wasn't. He could be as paranoid and self-conscious as the next man. Most definitely. But not when the kitten had come of his own accord - and stayed of his own accord. The ex-Fortian rarely suffered from lack of confidence. If F'lix was here, it was because he wanted to be, and F'ur had made his intentions toward the younger man more than clear out by the river. Unless F'lix protested...he felt no qualms about touching him. The fingers of one hand traced over the strange array of scars on the ex-Bendenite's back. He vaguely remembered seeing this before, but most of that time was a blur to him.

One arm snaked around beneath F'lix's arm, fingers splaying across the kitten's stomach and simply resting there. He snorted lightly through his nose. "Are you trying to say you care if I'm more interested in half of the process?" F'ur's arms fell from F'lix as he retrieved the shirt. Psht. That wasn't what he'd had in mind. He reached around the younger man and plucked the shirt from him, throwing it up and over his own shoulder. "I'll help with both." Stepping forward and against F'lix, he slid his hands down to the man's hips, nipping the base of the bluerider's neck. "Eventually."

He circled around in front of F'lix, openly allowing his gaze to wander. A hand brushed lightly over the torso, avoiding the colorful bruises but not the scars. F'ur frowned slightly. "Gets to the point when you almost like it, eh?" Pain was life. Better than feeling nothing, going cold like so many he'd seen. He loved pain...but not like what F'lix's body suggested. These weren't from combat. At least, not the traditional sort. F'ur backed off, slipping his hands in his pockets, his mood having faded. The reason became clear in his next words. "If that's what you want from me, I think I've given you the wrong impression."

It was...hard to say, simply because he was already thinking of F'lix as...his. But he didn't want the kid harboring any illusions or discontent. F'ur couldn't say he approved of such self-destructive behaviors, but he had enough of his own vices to know that trying to argue with them was probably pointless. And if F'lix ... needed ... to be hurt, then a controlled environment would be better, as opposed to his discontent driving him to provoke people. The bruises were sobering, because they were recent. F'ur couldn't be that for F'lix. He was dominant, aggressive...but not sadistic.

[rii]

OoOoh. A pleasant shiver ran up his spine, starting source at the bite clamping on his tail and pulling him backwards. The blue curved around to gaze nothing less than adoringly at his pale brother. Terrorlove. Oblivious to any bad lurking shadows, Simper scampered after the other male, diving behind the cup as well. Saveyou, saveyou! That was the game they were playing–right? Simper didn't understand the game, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.

And, speaking of bad shadows, Lilitu dropped from the side of the bowl and snaked up toward her brothers. There was something definitely.. playful about the way she flicked her tail behind her. Yet her game likely had a very different appeal to it. No surprise attack commenced, no, Lilitu calmly approached–making a straight line for Terror. Only she didn't make it to her goal, as Simper happily tackled her, the two rolling over end and pausing just before the ledge of the counter. The green hissed in irritation, Fool.

Lililove play save terror? Save? Save Terror! What from?[/i] The question baffled Simper, who laid under the claws of his sister. Lilitu frilled, climbing off and again making for Terror.. oh, if he wanted something to be saved from, she'd supply that need..

Even though he could not see where the fingers traced, feeling their positioning.. their path over his skin.. F'lix knew that those fingertips ran over the scars lining his back. A similar touch had done the same thing, a gentle mockery, a reminder of the power that had been held over him – but F'lix liked F'ur's touch, wanted it, longed for it – yet, just beneath the skin brushed events of his past, threatening to turn his enjoyment into a slow torment that would bring forth the taste of bile. There were so many bad memories he wanted to bury beneath good ones.

A part of him hated that he cared about what F'ur thought of him; to silently stew with thoughts while awaiting a verdict when he wanted to just.. be accepted, as is. Yes F'lix tended to make people hate him, shun him, reject him–never putting himself out there to give them a chance to hurt him. But here and now, he feared being rejected. Had he been marked that much that no one else would want him? Such a silly thought.. but it still made a tinge of fear lick at F'lix's mind. That wouldn't be fair.. F'lix had left.. It had been turns.. Ja'kin didn't own him. Marked him, permanently, but–but..

Leaning back into F'ur, F'lix pushed down those inner demons–even chuckling as the shirt disappeared from sight. "I didn't say you couldn't help, did I?" The teasing came softly, eyes drifting to a near close as one hand slipped back—the intention lost as the ex-Fortian moved around. The words sent a stab of hurt through F'lix eyes, and the younger turned his gaze to the floor. He had said something of that extent before–of course, at the time he meant it to taunt the older man's control. The dark thoughts only settled in more thickly when F'ur moved away–apparently no longer interested in the scarred, younger rider. Oh how F'lix wished for his long bangs right then. F'ur was toying with him, after F'lix had started to believe otherwise.

"No." The words came out growling, not with a temper, but the low tone F'lix slipped into when he wanted to keep his distance from others. "You didn't give me the wrong impression. You wouldn't do this." Or so he hoped. F'ur had control.. but so too had the one responsible for the scars. F'lix traced his fingers over one of the red lines following the underside curve of his ribcage. "I'm not the one that took pleasure in this." If pain had elated him, it would make sense for him to still be able to feel it. Instead his body and mind had found a way to shut it down. Just not care anymore. Though Ja'kin had not really taken pleasure in the act either; it had just been a means of having power over another person. That even though they could do something to stop it, they wouldn't..

F'lix began shaking his head, slowly side to side while he staring distantly at the floor. "So.. stupid. Didn't matter.. didn't seem to have a choice.." Rambling nonsense to himself. How had he ended up in this situation again? F'lix turned around, stooping to pick up his discarded shirt. The scars were turns old, but the memories still fresh. "You.. think I'm some willing slave to the enemy. I got these because I wasn't willing. I didn't listen. I wouldn't break for him. Yet he always got what he wanted in the end." And still was, apparently. An ocean apart and F'lix still belonged to that man in one way or another. Why?

"I tried to kill him once.." A bitter laugh as F'lix began to pull his shirt back on. "Know what he did? He laughed at me." F'lix didn't care if he came off sounding half-crazed. Thinking about.. that man.. threw his mind into a chaotic fit that could only lead him in a downward spiral. It made F'lix want to flee, yet he remained in the bathroom–at least now he had pulled the shirt down, covering the scars that had disgusted F'ur. A mild comfort. One arm crossed over his chest, fingers digging into the bruise on the opposite arm. "I didn't enjoy this. Never did."

[Requiem]

The mean green one was coming, and even though his clutchbrother had momentarily distracted her, it clearly wasn't enough. Terror caught up one more piece of the meat and retreated behind the cup, staring at her nervously. What was she doing? He didn't like it. Simper might try to save him, yes, but maybe not, and either way he'd rather avoid the situation altogether. He edged further around the cup to keep her away.

F'ur watched F'lix, not comprehending immediately as the other began to speak. Rather than the words, he noticed the agitation, immediately regretting being as blunt as he'd been. But F'ur didn't believe in leading people on. Well, he had once in a fit of picque, but for the most part he didn't. His trysts had known they were trysts, his partners knew where they stood or at least came to know it shortly. It was too hurtful to not be up front about things. He'd been on the receiving end of that enough not to do it to anyone else.

He listened, watched. His hands didn't leave his pockets. Most people didn't realize how expressive hands could be, and the hands - he lost control over them before other things. A slight twitch, a twisting of fabric...all were telling. That was why he kept his hands in his pockets so often. Staring at the kitten's back as it disappeared beneath cloth. F'ur's shirt, because he still had F'lix's.

Stepping up behind the man, he slid an arm around his waist, cupping the cheek as he leaned forward, into F'lix, and kissed him gently. "Your bruises," he stated quietly. F'ur wasn't arguing, but the inconsistency was there. No, it was overwhelmingly clear just how much F'lix hated the relationship he'd had with...whoever 'he' was. "You provoked someone into hitting you, and with...a stick? That you could have avoided. I've seen how fast you are. I believe you don't enjoy it, kitten." He did, now. Hard to claim anything else. "You don't deserve it either. Why?"

It might be too much to ask. He tugged lightly at the shirt in clear request. "You're back where you started, F'lix," he commented. F'ur groped for words. He usually didn't have trouble finding them, but this situation was...different. Finally he just settled for direct. When in doubt...

"I didn't mean to be hurtful. I just meant...that if you wanted someone to do that sort of thing - there are people who get something out of it - that I couldn't do that for you." He brushed his lips on F'lix's ear. "I want you, kitten. If you're willing." Hard to make that any more clear.

[rii]

Lilitu must want to play as well, the only thing that made any sense to Simper. He could feel something of her intentions trickling through the bond they shared with F'lix. She wanted to go after Terror.. because that was.. fun. Simper would let her, because he liked to share. Indeed the dark green pursued their pale clutchbrother, eyes slitted dangerously as she leaped on top of the tipped cup. Terror scared? She cooed, vibrant green frill wide and threatening–a second before pouncing down with intentions of tackling Terror.

The scars went beyond skin deep, embedding far into his mind to the point where a simple tracing of fingertips had touched at more than just flesh, but at the memories. F'lix had enabled the reaction by being overly concerned about what F'ur thought of him–shifting nervously in that state of uncertainty; waiting to be accepted or rejected–assuming the worst but wanting to believe otherwise. His mind tended to run away with itself. F'lix loathed allowing the insecurity to show–to appear so weak. Had the power to shut off his feelings if he so pleased; erect a thick mental wall between himself and F'ur. But he wanted to be able to trust F'ur, completely.

The arm, the kiss, those touches soothed F'lix's rattled nerves. His hand came down, resting over the one encircling his waist; touch slipping between shirt and leather bracer to press against skin. See, F'lix chided himself, he had just misunderstood F'ur. Tempest in a teacup. Honestly. A thread of unease remained woven between his shoulders, drawn tight to keep them tense–though F'lix was slowly relaxing, again leaning into the older man. He lifted his free arm, reaching back and around to thread fingers into F'ur's hair; silently taking comfort in the other's presence–something words wouldn't be able to provide.

"Staff." A soft correction, no longer bothering to skirt around the subject. It was an easier topic to tact his thoughts onto rather than the scarring. "I was out on the beach. W'yn saw me.. he's old Benden." F'lix paused, momentarily wondering if that phrase made any sense to the ex-Fortian. "He was intent on spilling blood before he even landed–provoking or not. I told you before, I attract trouble." Here F'lix began to worry, picking at the end of F'ur's rolled up sleeve. "I didn't exactly stand there and let him hit me. It—you know this doesn't make much sense when I say it out loud—it's a balance of dodging enough to avoid getting too hurt, but taking enough of a blow to sate them. Be interesting enough, but always lose." Them being the brutes from Benden that took an unholy joy in causing pain. "I'm sort of.. well practiced.. in that area. I don't know why I do it. I just.. fall into that role without realizing it. Thinking if it wasn't going to be me, then it was going to be someone else, and pain is temporary. It doesn't bother me much anymore. Except it dawned on me what I was doing–being this toy for people. I tried to end it, made the mistake of looking away and he kind of blind-sided me. You say I don't deserve it, but.. in my mind I get so confused about that. I did bring it on myself, because I could of dodged, or just simply left. I did keep provoking him because he's so easily riled.. I know that it shouldn't have happened.. avoided coming over here, really, because I didn't want you thinking.. poorly of me." So much for that.

A quiet chuckle came out in response of the comment toward his state of dress. He didn't comply to F'ur's request, if only because he still felt undecided–oh, he had been perfectly willing a couple moments earlier, but then those inner demons had to rear their ugly heads. F'lix pulled F'ur's arm away from his waist, not to dislodge him but, with both hands, to loosen and slide the bracer off of F'ur's wrist. The ex-Fortian was overdressed, had to make matters a little more even.

"No, I'm not into.. that." A bit of roughness now and then, being dominated, sure—At the touch and direct words a muted shiver traveled through his being, making those goosebumps finally rise. Willing, yes, yet.. F'lix twisted around so he faced the other, ducking under meeting the other's gaze–instead nuzzling against the warmth of neck. His hands shifted to remove the second bracer, dropping it with a soft thud of leather against rock. "Sorry.. the thing about having a good memory is that I remember everything. Perfectly. The memories have a knack of rushing back at the most.. inconvenient.. of times. Most of the stuff that happened to me was six or more turns ago, but as far as my memory is concerned, it may as well have happened yesterday.

"I only expect you to be you, not something you're not. I like you, F'ur." Spoken quietly. Not that the other needed any kind of reassurance–but F'lix felt like saying it anyway, because he wasn't trying to fit the other into some twisted version of someone else. His fingers slipped under F'ur's shirt, rising the fabric up a bit with tips pressing into the scarred tissue. He questioned how much F'ur really wanted to be with an emotional basket case of a kitten, but F'lix didn't feel like debating the matter any further. Paranoia be damned before he ended up chasing the man off. Curling his fingers, F'lix pulled himself closer, nipping gently at the man's earlobe–he had chewed on it long enough with talk. He pushed the shirt all the way up, "That offer to help still open..?"

[Requiem]

Confusing him. The long, pale-hued blue slunk backwards nervously, staring up at the green looming over him. She was...not nice, no. But she was actually noticing him, which was amazing enough that he was plagued by indecision, and that indecision wasn't helped at all by the aggressive stance she took. And the cooed words. Oh so confused. He couldn't tell if she was happy or she was going to bite him for stealing her food.

His frill flared as she pounced him, Terror flopping down in a weird mixture of panic and submission. He closed his eyes. Not here not here not here. Female on top of him. Paying attention to him, which seemed impossible. But was she going to eat him? Dead dead dead already dead not here. Oh she wasn't going away. He cracked open his eyes. Definitely still there. They closed quickly, as if he might will her away. Female, pretty female, going to eat him...bad, but pretty. Oh bother. Lililove no eat, please. Can have. Pretty take? Yes, distract her with the meat and compliments, then run away. He extended his pilfered food to her from his prone position. (Lililove was simply what Simper had called her, so naturally Terror thought this her name.)

He naturally snugged F'lix tighter to him as the younger rider yielded, leaning back against him. The unfamiliar nervousness that was a fear of what F'lix would do rather than how he'd react (the crazy idea that the man was going to take him by the hair and slam him into the nearest wall) mingled with an equally strange disbelieving ecstasy that the rider was touching him. What the -? Oh. It wasn't that F'ur didn't feel, but the strength of the emotions and the odd flavor to them was enough to be distinguishable, thankfully. Now that his mind wasn't tired. Of course, he still found himself trembling slightly, the adrenaline ripping through him. Shards, but this would take some getting used to.

It was like Impressing Ino all over again...only stranger because, while Inocenth wasn't always the cold, violent creature he'd become, he'd never been overly emotional either. F'ur was decidedly the more volatile of the pair when it came to feelings, and he really...wasn't...that emotional either. They were there. He didn't ignore or repress them. But they tended to be a backdrop that was more of a curiosity than anything he actually had to deal with. So this was entirely new. Entirely.

W'yn. The staff comment gave it away, actually - Inocenth had a habit of paying particular attention to bronzes and their riders since that was where the problems usually came from - but the verification pleased F'ur on some level. F'lix wasn't bothering to hide it like he had a moment ago. Old Benden. Funny. The kids had a much different idea of what was 'Old Benden' than F'ur did. To him, the obsession with violence and domination through force - the constant struggle within the Weyr for survival and power - that was all new Benden, when C'leon's hold on the place solidified. Benden had never been like Fort, but it hadn't been that monstrosity, either. Only went to show you that a place contracted the illness of the people who ran it. F'ur really didn't like bronzeriders. Nor was the quiet explanation of the bluerider's helping that any. He didn't respond in words, nuzzling the younger man's neck instead. Bastards. They made it difficult for anyone else to get close to people like F'lix, and the self-sacrificial behavior was both endearing and worrisome. Because, if it continued, F'lix would miscalculate eventually. It wouldn't be someone else getting the better of him...just him not dodging quite far enough, pushing someone just that little bit too much. You couldn't tell someone to stop, though. Especially when it was clear the ex-Bendenite already knew he had to, was apparently trying. Learned behaviors like that were hard to get past.

When F'lix began to move, F'ur jumped slightly,the hand that had moved from F'lix's face to his shoulder tightening for a moment before falling away. Nervous, nervous. At least he knew he could still feel, he supposed. "Sorry," he muttered. Didn't want the kitten thinking that he had a problem with being touched. "Still getting used to Terror. He's constantly on edge and I'm a little jumpy." The man had only one response to F'lix's comment of what he was and wasn't into. "Good." He stood still, turning his head to allow F'lix access to his neck, but otherwise just staying out of the ex-Bendenite's way.

"More trouble than it's worth, eh?" He figured he should probably say something. F'ur wasn't good with words, though, not when he was expected to be serious. A slight smile that held just a touch of awkwardness to it. Well, it had been a couple turns. He was a little out of practice. "We'll just have to give you enough good memories that the bad ones don't surface as often." Made sense to him, anyway. Funny how he could still get those giddy flip-flop feelings, even so many turns after leaving adolescence. Lifting his arms to aid F'lix, he hooked a leg around the other man's. "I think that can be arranged." He kissed F'lix's jaw, easing the shirt up and over the ex-Bendenite's head. His fingers traced the kitten's clavicle.

"You should be flattered," he commented dryly, nipping at the base of the other bluerider's neck. "You've held my interest for longer than most, considering I've wanted you since we met. Most people turn me off by this point."

[rii]

Lilitu remained poised over her catch, claws delicately pressed against the pale hide of her clutchbrother. Her head slowly turned to one side as she intently observed, watching as Terror shut his eyes as if.. trying to disappear into thin air. This pleased Lilitu, but why wasn't he squirming to get loose, or screaming for his dear life? Where was his precious savior? Hmph. The piece of meat was taken, eaten, but still the dark green refused to allow her brother to escape. Twining her tail around his before nipping at his folded frill. She would not be sated so easily by surrendered pieces of food and flattering words.

Incentive to torment Terror came from the impression from Lixhers, who absently tried to will her to leave the cowardly one alone. She went to bite her brother again, only to find Simper had wormed himself in the way. The darker blue rubbed up against her, then Terror. Lilitu always first, she was best. Whatever game his two clutchsiblings were playing, he wanted to join too. Please please?

F'ur's mixed physical responses to F'lix actions were a bit.. confusing, but the younger decided to chalk it up to Terror's anxiety. He really wanted to make Lilitu stop from tormenting Terror, but short of stalking into the other room and stuffing her into a jar, no amount of scolding would curb her enthusiasm to annoy him. And F'lix was more than a little intent on staying where he currently stood.

His hands went to F'ur's chest, dark gold eyes following the path of fingers as he took his time tracing the map of scars within immediate reach. He had been wanting to touch them since.. first seeing them, really. The younger saw more than just scarring. In a way they were similar to the thin lines carved into F'ur's foot. The inking illustrated movements, the smooth dancing, the beauty.. The war scars were more ragged, but they could be read the same way if a person had an eye for it. Threadscore, flame, blade.. F'lix could translate the marks; almost see how F'ur had stood.. how the attack had come.. the weapon used.. the violence.. the fight.. pain.. blood.

The attention paused just beneath the ribcage, halted by F'ur's last comments. Those golden eyes narrowed as they turned back up to other man's face–not quite a glare, but thoughtful–a hint of confusion swirling there. What did that mean? The younger didn't respond, for now, wholly disinterested in speaking at the moment. Of course that didn't stop his mind from twisting around the words in a silent analyzing. If F'lix was suppose to feel flattered, he didn't. Okay, knowing F'ur felt attracted to him from the start was worth a smile. Otherwise, the tone and word choice were on the mocking side. It didn't really add up with all the other things spoken between them–surely F'lix was just being paranoid again, misconstruing those words all over again. He forced the thoughts aside..

Fingers began to move again, following the scarring down the remaining length of F'ur's torso. It would take time to read the history there. Something F'lix would enjoy doing during an idle moment. Right now F'lix had other interests. Kneeling before the man, F'lix gazed up the line of his body. Hands were working to remove the bracers from both ankles–now the two riders were even, in the terms of clothing. Tossing them aside, F'lix rose into the other; hands touching against thighs and sliding up under the tattered endings that were once pantlegs. A firm, steady pressure tracking up the curvature of muscles. The side of F'lix face skimmed the front of the shorts, moving upward to sink teeth into the flesh available beneath the naval and above the hem of fabric–sharp enough to be a touch painful. Paying silent compliment to F'ur's body.

Standing, F'lix made a point of sparing attention to any stretch of skin left unscarred. His fingers lightly clawed at the top of F'ur's thighs before his hands slipped out from under shorts. F'lix ended back at F'ur's neck, praising the warm skin with teeth, closing with soft press of lips. The younger rider was something of a pleaser, took enjoyment in giving attention to his choice partner–should make his interest plain enough. Yet, the thoughts still nagged at him, and F'lix opted to ask instead of assuming the worst. He was getting tired of collecting doubt. Becoming quite the inconvenience. And, the long pause between the words.. and the time F'lix finally parted his lips to speak likely gave it away he had been mulling over the other man's comments. "What do you mean?"

Obviously not pertaining the words at face-value (because those came off demeaning) Most people turned F'ur off. Other Bendenites? How long was the list of most people? Most trysts? F'lix didn't want to think of himself as a mere pleasurable pastime, being that his emotions were involved. He couldn't speak for F'ur.. but the things his mind conjured up were no better. Would F'lix have to keep trying to keep F'ur's interest? Was it a jab that it was only time before F'ur lost interest, that F'lix had been lucky to get this far..

It just didn't make sense–and the sense F'lix was making.. he didn't want to listen to it.

[Requiem]

F'ur's eyes half-veiled, watching F'lix's exploration with muted curiosity. What did the other rider see there? He must see something, because he was paying the scars an inordinate amount of attention. Reading them. A brief, feral flash of teeth from the ex-Fortian. So many stories written on him that they all melded together. He forgot which he got where, what the circumstances were, if it had hurt, even, or if he hadn't noticed until discovering the blood later. Sometimes he didn't notice at all. Just one more scar. One more story that only the dead remained to tell, because it was insignificant to the living. The dead...their last attempt at life. Or perhaps their last attempt to take him with them.

And he didn't even remember.

He clicked his tongue in silent questioning at F'lix's look, sliding his hands into his pockets because the look itself was one he didn't understand. Hands and face unreadable, but F'lix had returned to whatever he had in mind. Ah. F'ur remained still, partially out of curiosity to see what F'lix was up to, and partly because he was receiving very, very strong vibes from Terror not to move. The poor salamandyr was worried about being eaten. Again. But it wasn't a terror that was remotely unmanageable, oddly enough. Terror was responding strangely to the fact that F'lix's mandyr was a green. Almost as if he'd rather not be eaten, but if she must, well... F'ur shook his head. How did he always end up with the queer ones?

That thought fled his head as the hands moved up his legs. The look was still a strange one, but he found he didn't much care anymore, his hands sliding out of his pockets, one finding the side of F'lix's neck, feeling the steady pulse against his palm. His other hand found the bluerider's shoulder and simply rested there. Not pushing, not pulling. One finger moved slightly. Stroking? A light scratch? His hand gripped F'lix's shoulder tightly, pressing closer to the younger man at the bite, his breath escaping in a sharp hiss. He smirked slightly. Naughty kitten.

His hands moved to F'lix's back and pulled the ex-Bendenite against him, though he still simply let the younger man do as he pleased. It was...interesting. People tended to do what they liked done to themselves - or what past lovers had liked - when first exploring a new person. It could give you several insights. Probably a bit cold to be analyzing F'lix, but F'ur never stopped analyzing, at least on some level. He growled quietly. Words.

"What?" He glanced downward, meeting the gold eyes directly. What did he...? Oh. That statement was clear enough, wasn't it? But apparently it bothered F'lix enough that it was still on his mind now. "That it doesn't take much to attract me, but it takes quite a bit to keep my interest?" F'ur had been mocking himself. It was all too easy to get his attention at times. "That you're more than just a pretty face with a snippy attitude? I'm not sure exactly what you're asking." His hands found F'lix's rump, squeezing indelicately. "Back out on me again, kit. I dare you," he added darkly. He'd thrust aside F'lix's origins, severed his last tie with the weyr that had shaped him, and yes...if F'lix continued playing him he would be less than amused.

F'ur was growing impatient. Probably due to the bites and the wandering hands. For all his 'apparent' promiscuity, F'ur hadn't touched anyone out of Flightlust since coming to Selenitas. That was a long time for a man to go without, particularly one who wasn't used to it. He pressed F'lix back into the wall, sinking his teeth into the juncture of shoulder and neck with just enough control not to draw blood. His hands found the bluerider's hips, thumbs playing along the low-riding waistband. F'ur nipped at his jaw. "Tell me you want me to make you mine," he muttered, the possessive gleam prominent in his eyes.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! F'ur jumped back with a hiss, eyes going wide. He didn't really move, but the muscles jumped along his stomach in something that didn't seem remotely conscious, almost as if they had a mind of their own. NOOO EATTTT!

The salamandyr was writhing madly - though not madly enough to hurt the pretty, because it would be very very bad to hurt the pretty, even if she was trying to eat him, and that wasn't very nice. Why eat Terror? Terror no taste good, make pretty sick. Please no eat. Eat yummies. Yummies no make Lililove sick. Thrash thrash. Oh, Simper! Come to save him! Tell Lililove no eat, Simper master mine. Save Terror yours. He nuzzled at the male in the hopes that he would save him.

For the love of Pern. Several emotions chased themselves across F'ur's face, before he was left just staring at F'lix blankly. Didn't want to hurt, save him, don't eat him...the sharding mandyr was making it impossible for him to think straight. "This might be a bad idea. I can't get the blasted thing out of my head." A thought occurred to him. "Are they like...dragons?" Was part of the salamandyr's distress his feelings toward F'lix?

[rii]

Body language could reveal many things, and as F'lix touched here, touched there, his was being wholly aware of any reactions he earned. He wanted to know what F'ur liked, to please him. Terror's influences, however, were making it a touch difficult to read anything other than the obvious. Ah. Those words made more sense than the others. The underlying annoyance wasn't missed. A couple of light kisses were placed over the carotid in silent promising that he would make it up to F'ur. Normally F'lix wouldn't bother with words–fickle words–preferring actions over talk. It had been just one last thing to quell his doubts.

Grabbing hands. F'lix didn't like the tone, more threat than any sort of dare; reminiscent of that day nearly a sevenday past. Considering the younger rider's history, it came as little wonder that his eyes narrowed in response, almost tensing in a fit of subconscious defensiveness. His mind could pair very dark deeds with that tone. Not appealing. Besides which, he had no intentions of backing out 'again'–and he questioned when he had done it the first time. Winding his arm around F'ur's neck, F'lix threaded fingers into the man's hair before evenly meeting his eyes–the mild glare gone now, to be replaced by an open intensity. "I'm not going anywhere."

F'lix was more than content to relinquish any control to the older man, all but purring upon finding himself pressed firmly between wall and the ex-Fortian. He liked a man that knew what he wanted, that dominance. Lids fluttered to a near close, the dark gold hazy as they traced F'ur's face. Hands had dropped between their bodies, dexterous fingers working in the available space to undo the other man's belt. The younger licked his lower lip, considering his next words—but not getting a chance to respond.

What?–What had he done? Oh. Terror. F'lix tried to pay little mind to the oddities shaping F'ur's expressions, waiting until it seemed the fit was over before moving against the other–trying to get the man's mind back on track. Er, wait–bad idea? Because of Terror? F'lix bit down on his lower lip, making no effort to hide his displeasure, head dipping a bit to regard F'ur from the tops of his eyes–a feral cat, minus the growl. If he had the expressive feline ears, they would have flattened back against his skull. He held back the quip of pointing out that F'ur was.. never going to get that 'thing' out of his head. One moment the man was getting upset about him supposed 'backing out' and now he was the one..

"Probably would help if Lilitu would leave him alone." And a smugness came across the bond from the dark green. Apparently she was pleased that he had noticed her efforts. F'lix eased back, hands moving to rest on F'ur's arms. Like dragons? F'lix gave a half-hearted shrug. Whatever, they could be little tiny dragons–could be mythical pink spawns of wherry warts–whatever F'ur wanted. Tiny little baby dragons.. It clicked in F'lix head, eyes widening as he looked toward the other room. He didn't feel any distress from his own salamandyrs, but they were more involved in their own world.. and F'lix had not really been quite as worked up as the ex-Fortian. "I have no idea."

F'lix expression twisted into a snarl and he lifted a pale hand to cover the majority of his face. Oh, that was just rich. Absolutely hilarious. "Figures." He growled lowly to himself. Again the world found his torment amusing. "I didn't know," He exhaled the form of apology, once more resorting to avoiding F'ur's gaze. If he had known, he certainly wouldn't have wound the man up. The younger would understand if.. the other wanted him to leave. Although, at the moment he couldn't exactly move without pushing F'ur aside.

The world wasn't the only one that found amusement in F'lix's torment. Lilitu was elated beyond belief between the embarrassment Lixhers felt, and the squirming creature beneath her claws. She liked seeing Terror in such distress. She crooned pleasantly at him, tightening her claws a bit since she couldn't get around Simper to bite him again–make him believe she really was going to eat him.

Saveyou? Simper save Terrorlove! Yes! See, they were going to let him play too. Now.. what was he suppose to do? The blue salamandyr hesitated as he looked between his two siblings, twitching a bit with anticipation. Wanted to play so much! So he had to save Terror from... Lilitu! Yes, yes. Why? The thought process made apparent by the way Simper's tail thwacked heavily against the table as he tried to figure it out. He had to stop Lilitu from eating Terror? Why would Lililove want to do that.. ? Ah, but that was the game, wasn't it. Saveyou~

The scrawny blue continued to worm himself between his two siblings, not caring about the irritation that came from Lilitu–she was playing the baddie, afterall. Couldn't listen to that. Eventually Lilitu released Terror and turned her attention to Simper, scraping her talons across his side to draw a line of ichor. Oh yes, Simper liked this game. They should play it all the time. Saved! Saved Terror. Lilitu no eat. Terror? Terror.. love.. ? He blinked over at his pale brother.

[Requiem]

Confused. Terror's little chest was all that remained moving now, expanding and contracting at a pace that should have been worrisome, though for him this was actually on the calm side. He wasn't screaming for help, babbling nervously, thrashing or fainting, after all. Her croon meant good. Croons were happy sounds, and he wanted her to be happy...but the claws pricking against him hurt and you didn't hurt unless you were not happy, right? He ducked his head behind Simper, still trying to figure it out and failing utterly.

What was he doing wrong?

Although...she seemed to not be upset with him anymore, because her claws went away. His tail coiled around Simper's, the male peering around his brother blue at Lililove because he wasn't sure what she was up to and that made him nervous. Oh no! He'd asked Simper to save him and now he was being attacked, and Terror felt oh so bad and wanted to stop her or tell Simper to go away or both, but...was that...? Ichor... The long body went limp at the sight and smell, as the salamandyr fainted for the umpteenth time since he cracked shell.

F'lix wasn't making it easy for him, sharding man. F'ur resisted the urge to ignore Terror entirely - especially now that the blue was unconscious yet again - and fall upon the ex-Bendenite. "He's going to have to toughen up," F'ur responded roughly, hands coming to rest lightly on F'lix's waist. Really, considering the absence of Terror's consciousness from his mind, he was thinking clearer and it was very tempting to go ahead with this anyway. Only the fact that F'lix had salamandyrs who could be just as adversely affected kept him from giving in to that urge. He wasn't happy about it, though. Not at all. And the fact that Terror had calmed down almost immediately after he pulled back only reinforced the idea that the mandyrs could be traumatized just like dragons could.

He couldn't help the light smirk at F'lix's obvious annoyance. Well, at least he wasn't the only one, then. "We'll just have to pick up where we left off later," he murmured, resisting the impulse to tease the other man. That was fine when he had no intention of anything or the teasing could be followed up on, but it was just cruel when it wasn't going to lead them anywhere for awhile. F'ur didn't tend to be cruel...well, not in that way, anyway. He backed up, letting his hands fall from F'lix's waist and shoving them back into his pockets. He spared a glance toward the room with his fainted salamandyr, exhaling softly. "I'll get used to him. Eventually." F'ur glanced at F'lix, the promise behind the words clear. He did not intend to let Terror control him. For one, it was just plain dangerous, and he did intend to take full advantage of the younger man as soon as he was able. Terror or no Terror.

A thought occurred to him, now that he wasn't attempting to shove his tongue down F'lix's throat. "You didn't come here to laugh at my failure with managing the little parasite, did you?" Not a question, really, and there was a definite touch of affection behind the droll words. He cocked a brow at the younger bluerider curiously. He seriously doubted F'lix had come with the intentions of being molested by a lusty older man, either. "I'm failing a bit as a host, it seems. Was there something I could do for you?" F'ur flashed a smile, handing the shirt F'lix had discarded the night before to him. That and the shorts that found themselves around the ex-Bendenite's ankles in the next moment alleviated the seeming formality of his words.

"Mine," he stated with a wink. He could have handed F'lix his trousers, yes, but then he wouldn't get the view. No touching didn't mean no looking, did it? And his gaze was decidedly appreciative as he bent down to retrieve the clothing the ex-Fortian had borrowed.

[rii]

Noo! He didn't save Terror in time. The dark clutches of the evil shadows had gotten to him. Simper hopped around, then flopped down next to his fallen brother. Simper fail! In pure affection for the other, Simper rubbed against the paler blue. Tilted his head to the side when Terror didn't rise up. Terrorlove? Play again..? Another nudge to the limp salamandyr, a touch of distress whirling in his eyes. Not dead. No? Terrorlove get up.. play saveyou, saveyou? Please?

Smug was Lilitu, and she proudly slinked away, finding a dark shadow before curling into a tight little ball. The delighted green of her eyes shining brightly as she peered at her two brothers. Oh yes, they would have so much fun with brothertheirs. Pathetic coward.

F'lix had closed his eyes, unable to look at F'ur without his thoughts spinning back to what his body wanted. Now fully resting against the wall, he lifted his hands away from touching skin and slid them both through his raven black hair, fisting fingers into the short hairs at the back–hoping the tiny prick of pain would help him focus. He didn't spare a thought to his current state, lean muscles stretching, shorts riding low on his hips, thin dark trail against his pale skin tracing down from his navel. Just relaxing and trying to get his own mind cleared.

"When is later?" The words came out half mumbled, but an honest question. F'lix knew next to nothing about the pests. Never paid much mind to those that owned them either. How long did it take for salamandyrs to mature? Anticipation could be something of a turn on, but not if it was going to drag out for what–dragons took a turn or more? Salamandyrs were smaller so..shouldn't take as long.. right? It shouldn't be that important, but hard to argue that bit when frustrated. To having something at your fingertips, being able to taste it on the tip of tongue, but nooo.

With eyes still closed, F'lix chuckled softly at F'ur's eventually comment. The younger probably should feel a touch more sympathetic of F'ur's position–clearly Terror had a bizarre hold over the man. The reactions to his near polar opposite mandyrs, the constant fear and nervousness. Still, F'lix couldn't help but muse playfully. "That or you'll be perfecting the design behind your furry fort.." And sleeping under them for a few more turns. F'lix didn't think that would actually happen, but humor seemed a good way to calm himself.

Eyes finally slit open at F'ur's question. F'lix let his arms drop back down to his sides, fingers pulling the shorts up a touch in the process. A smile touched at his features. No, he had not come to make light of the other man's plight. Had been outright concerned upon first finding F'ur in such a disheaveled state. The younger would never verbalize it, only hoped that it had been obvious enough through actions. The fact that he was there, had not run at the first given chance, not glaring up a storm, the little things–it all spoke enough for itself, did it not? F'lix let the silence stretch on instead of answering. F'ur was a smart man, could put two and two together himself, and if he wanted a particular answer, he'd just have to be more direct with his questions. F'lix wouldn't lie, but he wasn't about to open his mouth and make of fool of himself either. After a moment he nodded his chin toward the pack laying near the opposite wall. As for what had finally gotten his arse over to F'ur's Weyr though.. "I still need to finish your foot."

Ah, clothes, right. F'lix accepted the shirt and was just lifting it up to his head when he felt the push of fabric slide down his legs. "F'ur," the younger growled, dropping his arms with the shirt. Not quickly out of embarrassment, but a casual motion of modesty. His eyes were narrowed in a scolding glare, but he had to fight to keep the smirk from fully curving the corner of his lips. Honestly. "Oh I think you've done quite enough, I won't be needing any more of your help." Certainly not with undressing. Nothing left. He playfully cuffed the side of F'ur's head, stepping out of the shorts and around the doubled man–bumping him firmly with the side of his hip, only a slight hope of knocking him over unbalanced. As he moved over to the rest of his clothing, he shrugged on the shirt, pants were soon to follow suit.

A glance went toward the man before F'lix padded over into the other room to check on why his salamandyr had become so distraught. Carefully he touched the limp body of Terror, it was a tad disturbing to even look at. "He'll be fine. Just.. napping." Simper's confusion was nearly tangible, along with his concern. Nap? Was playing, can't nap in play. "I have the feeling he's going to do that a lot Simper.." Silly Terrlove.

Hn. He held his hand out to Lilitu, glad when the green crawled up and nestled close to his neck. She annoyed him, greatly, but he still loved her. "Did you see J'lorin's dragon?" A light question, of a sobering topic for F'lix thoughts. It had been a few days past now, but it had nagged at the younger's thoughts. He had an inkling of the events that day, but had been curious to ask.. someone about it. F'lix didn't exactly converse with many people.

[Requiem]

A shrug and grunt was F'ur's only response to the question. How was he supposed to know how long it took for salamandyrs to mature? He could ask, of course, seeing as how K'lir - the mandyr king - was in his weyrling class, but...eh. It couldn't be that long. Firelizards didn't take that long, and mandyrs were smaller. "We'll find out soon enough, no doubt," he added, his words particularly noncommittal because he was frustrated and F'lix's stretch against the wall wasn't helping that any.

He shot an annoyed glare at the younger bluerider. Furry fort. F'ur didn't want to be reminded about how completely Terror was dominating his mind these days. Even now, having the salamandyr unconscious was making him testy and worried, the mandyr's utter lack of presence in his mind disturbing. He didn't want to think about anything happening to the little one. How did things get this strong in just over a day? It hardly seemed possible. Nor was it at all convenient or comfortable.

The glare faded, F'ur glancing toward the pack. Oh. Oh. F'lix had said he was neurotic about finishing things he started, hadn't he? It was unlike F'ur to experience flashes of insecurity, but he was beginning to wonder if that was the only reason the other bluerider really was here. Sure, he seemed more than willing when F'ur advanced on him, but horny and interested weren't the same. Maybe it was good Terror had stopped things. He didn't want to get into something without knowing where he stood...emotions could be bothersome like that.

Hissing, he snapped at the ex-Bendenite. He could have dodged or intercepted the cuff if he'd wanted to, but what was the point? A hand palmed the ground, one leg sliding out to keep from toppling over. Another snap of teeth, though this time they closed on the flesh of the upper thigh as F'lix passed, stopping just short of causing the man to bleed. He rose gracefully to his feet, preceding the other out of the bathing room and flopping down on his bed stomach first with a soft groan. "Sleeping on floors does not agree with me." A glance was spared toward the counter Terror still lay sprawled out upon, but he wasn't too worried. The creature would come around...eventually.

"Hm. Me personally? No. Inocenth was watching, though." Inocenth was always watching, it seemed. The blue really didn't miss much. Most of the time that was a good thing, he supposed, though he was still irritated enough with the blue that he was disinclined to think anything nice of him at the moment. "Either J'lorin likes playing with fire, or something's in the works," he commented drolly. "And J'lorin isn't the risk-taking sort." In fact, he'd been surprised to learn the man had been the one to take over Benden. Something really significant must have happened at Fort to spur on that move. Or J'lorin had changed over the last couple of turns. He supposed that was possible, too.

[rii]

F'lix's fingers rubbed at his thigh through the material of his pants while allowing his gaze to wander back over to F'ur. A smile touched at his features at the sight and the fact he had been tempted to flop on the bed in a similar fashion. The expression shifted into something more forlorn, a mixture of his settling awkwardness and the topic. At least now he knew he had not been seeing things that day–considering his underlying level of constant stress he wouldn't write it off that his mind finally snapped and gave into paranoid delusions–weaving mere nagging worries to actual perceivable images.

A weyrleader coming alone to Selenitas.. it really could only mean one obvious thing. And while F'lix knew what it meant in regards to the war, his distress came from just a small detail. A very meaningless and personal thing. He just never wanted to run the chance of seeing him again. No use voicing obscure questions in hopes that F'ur would have information to ease his mind. F'lix simply would have to wait and see what became of J'lorin's visit. More particularly, the conditions of the potential alliance..

F'lix's attention wandered over the disheveled state of the room, ignoring the faint urge to put the furniture back into proper place. It felt strange to be there, and the younger bluerider was at a loss of what he should do. He had very little experience in the terms of a real relationship. His involvement with others had been purely physical, no tangle of emotions to complicate matters or mess with his head and heart. There had been those that had tried to be closer to him, but he had repelled their attempts without a second thought.

This was different.

Or, rather, he wanted it to be different. Such unfamiliar territory, in a psychological sense. It would make sense to.. scout. F'lix did not really want to leave, if he did it was only to escape the unfamiliar pang of uncertainty that viciously clawed inside his chest. After giving Simper a reassuring stroke of fingertips, F'lix pushed away from the counter and padded lightly over to the bed. He sat down on the edge, leaning firmly against F'ur's side. The physical contact was comforting, even if it was slight. F'lix wouldn't mind having it outside a fit of passion.

With a faint smirk and a momentary reflection on F'ur's groaning comment, F'lix reached over to lay a hand over the muscle stretching between neck and shoulder. Experimentally he squeezed, massaging at any possible stiffness there due to spending a night on an unforgiving floor. The attention carefully traveled along the side of neck, thumb pressing firm circular motions around the muscles near the vertebrae.

"If anything," There was a hint of a resigning sigh behind his quiet words. F'lix didn't feel like pursuing the topic much further, as his irrational dread would end up coming out. Something he'd just have to deal with when the time came. "It might start getting a bit more interesting around here. Weyrleaders don't swing by just to chat, after all." All a dismissive comment, and F'lix fell back into the safety of his silence. The touch lifted and he let his hand settle on F'ur's mid-back. An unvoiced offer. Amazing how F'lix could still feel hesitant about touching F'ur considering what they had been doing a moment before–but that was different, to F'lix at least.

Lazily F'lix's gaze traced over the scarring on the man's bared back, leaving it up to F'ur whether he was welcome to stay, or he should start looking toward the door. The bluerider wasn't going to press conversation on the other man if he merely wanted to be left alone. F'lix mentally chided himself for his awkwardness. He wanted to feel comfortable around the other. He was just so, so.. afraid.

But he was trying.

[Requiem]

F'ur turned his head to one side at the warmth he felt pressed up against him, a brief flicker of confusion behind his dark eyes. It seemed odd to have a F'lix initiating this sort of - companionable - contact. The younger man didn't seem to mind teasing from time to time, in a manner that was distinctly aggressive and challenging, but casual touching...it didn't seem that the ex-Bendenite liked it much, to put it mildly. Not that he was protesting. A half-purring sound left his throat at the kneeding of his upper back and neck, and his hips squirmed back a little in a stretching motion that was clear invitation to continue.

The comment by the other man didn't seem to require a reply, though he grunted in acknowledgment of the statement. Typical male response. Curling his shoulders in a rolling motion that pressed his lower back more firmly against F'lix's hand, he encouraged the bluerider to continue wordlessly. For all his very dynamic sort of interaction with people, he was decidedly comfortable with silence. Possibly because most of his 'outgoing' behavior was put on to throw people off. He still didn't spend a lot of them mulling over things, but the need to talk was not one of his vices.

Tempted to curl around F'lix and draw the man down next to him just to be close, he remained on his stomach, one hand curling lightly over the bluerider's foot. Contact, if decidedly less contact than he would have liked. "You're still here," he stated, with a touch of amusement. It wasn't so much the 'still here' part that amused him, though. F'lix's excuse had been the foot, but this definitely had nothing to do with his foot. F'ur was quick to readjust the assumption that the ex-Bendenite was interested in a quick tumble and little else. He suffered from a few things, yes, but lack of confidence wasn't one of them. (It helped that he'd been playing this 'game' - if you could call it that - for turns.)

"So...I was thinking that a skirt is probably a bit too out there," he mentioned mildly. "Fans are one thing." Yes, anything that screamed homosexual...really didn't appeal to him. He was still northern enough that some things he felt uncomfortable flaunting. Not because he was ashamed of them, but because such revelations caused problems...problems he didn't much need. "But I'd still like something that can disguise the movement of my legs. It would be - a useful tool." He glanced over at F'lix again, seeing little from his position on his stomach. The statement wasn't obviously a question, but there was enough of a lift to it to make it clear he was fishing for suggestions.

The weighted hem idea wasn't a bad one, after all. Maybe F'lix would have something else for him, too.

Growing impatient, however, he turned onto his side, propping his hand on his elbow and looking up at F'lix. His free arm snaked around the other bluerider's waist. There. He liked that better than talking to someone he couldn't really see, even if the man's hands felt nice.