#nikyr

[gotojobin]

#Nicor #Nikke #Nikyr The Manx name for the Nicker of those living on the Isle of Man. It sometimes has the form of an old man with a green beard but is also known as a Water Horse. They live in the lakes fjords and seas of Scandinavian countries. They are gentle and enjoy making music. However like the Kelpie or Each Uisge the Nicker would dive into deep water carrying anyone who has tried to mount on its back and drown its victims. Nickers also are known to fall in love with women.

[aileuromania]

Fragility [TOR Pern AU]

This is more background, and a combination effort from Deathcupcake and I. Originally it was just going to be a makeout session, but it ended up a little more steamy than that.

This comes after Discover.

Warnings: Same sex relationship

* * * * *

If G'rain didn't have duties, he would stay like this forever.

Once, it seemed like a lifetime ago, he had gone to the SmithCraftHall on the behest of the Weyr's dragon healer. Flamethrower blowback had been a problem for some time, with more than one junior queen singed from ill timed burns, so he'd gone to the Hall for a solution.

The old idea of agenothree had come up again from the Master he spoke with, and it was he who introduced him to Nikyr, the expert in such matters. The Weyrsinger hadn't realised it at the time, but it was a moment that would resonate throughout the rest of his life.

He hadn't understood so many of the terms so lovingly gabbled by the alternately bashful and enthusiastic man, but with patience from both sides, accord was reached.

G'rain had never felt as intellectually stimulated as when he was in the presence of the clever Smith, and under his tutelage quickly found himself able to turn a thought into designs if not as well as the man himself, then at least well enough to be interpreted and expanded upon.

They were of common thought and curiosity, each with a desire to do right by the dragonrider community and Pern at large. It was only natural that friendship was forged as well as fuel tanks, and in-jokes and references crept into their conversations.

Even Serinth had taken a shine to the dark skinned man, asking if he wanted to actually fly, and not just endlessly talk about the theory.

After that first flight, G'rain remembered the warmth of the man clinging on to his waist.The feel of that lean body against his own remained on his mind long after the flight was done, resonating in flesh that desired to feel more.

His thoughts had turned from ideas to man without him noticing, realising in the darkness of his weyr that he didn't need to visit the Hall as often as he had, and that his heart beat faster when he thought of visiting the grey eyed Smith. What did it feel like to run his fingers through that mop of hair, or to feel that toned body against his? Did he smell musky? Metallic? Did he taste of fire and the forge, or something less definable?

He wanted Nikyr in a way he had never wanted anyone before, and despaired in secret until he realised the Smith felt the same.

"I thought there might be another reason you keep visiting me. I hoped there was."

His kind was frowned upon in Pern society beyond the Weyrs. Blue and green riders, the so-called "dragonwomen", were often derided behind their backs, their supposed proclivities historically used to denounce Weryfolk as a whole. G'rain escaped a little of the torment by providence of the Harper badge at his shoulder, but already he knew the whispers he and Serinth would leave behind for the Smith to hear.

To protect Nikyr's reputation, they'd flown here, to the tarn they'd come to so many times before to swim, bathe and laugh after a difficult Threadfall. Few came here, the golden lakes above Ruatha or the seas about Nerat the preferred bathing spots for most riders. Yet it was this place with its roots deep in the northern range that G'rain came to for solitude, to practice without interruption, and now, for the most intimate of company.

* * * * *

Nikyr held the dragonrider in his arms, pulling him close as his lips traveled down jawline to the soft skin of the neck. He enjoyed the strong hands caressing his back, fingertips playing him so expertly that his own efforts were often paused to appreciate the sensations. He concentrated and inhaled deeply, revelling in the scent of the man, a scent he'd come to associate with exhilaration, anticipation. Even now, tanned leather mixed with the other's heated body, the underlying presence of dragon musk, all combined to arouse him further, and he parted his lips to tentatively lick G'rain's skin. Nikyr smiled as the man pressed closer, his quiet sighs exciting him as he felt firm fingers wind through his hair and the slight movement to allow him more access.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, really, but he found everything more satisfying than he'd imagined. Kissing G'rain was similar to, yet so unlike kissing women. The mechanics were the same, even though his tipsy fumbling with them had been more along the lines of what was expected and not desire. This was far more engaging -- whether that was because he had strong feelings for the dragonrider or because he was finally able to explore his attraction to men, he couldn't say. All he knew was that he'd been aching to be near the other man for what seemed an eternity before today. He didn't even know what had given him the impetus to admit his interest, but that had been well worth the moments of embarrassment.

With more confidence, he nuzzled the other's neck, then trailed his tongue along skin to meet G'rain's lips again, surprising himself with a rush of passion as he boldly explored the man's mouth. The salty skin, lightly spiced by the oil the dragonrider used on Serinth, the sweetness of his lips, all of it combined into a heady euphoria, and he groaned quietly, gripping G'rain's hip as much to keep himself from pressing against the man as to keep him from pulling away.

Nikyr paused, grey eyes searching blue.

"G'rain," his voice husky, his breathing quick, hand on hip grasping a bit tighter. "I need to tell you. But..." The dark skin flushed again, and Nikyr dropped his gaze from the other's. "By the flame! I..."

"Go on," G'rain lifted a hand to caress the smith's cheek, leaning in to kiss him softly and encouraged him to continue.

Nikyr felt his body tense as embarrassment warred with desire, his expression melting into an anxious frown and he sighed with frustration.

"I don't, I mean, I..." He sat up, turning his head away from the other. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, shoulders hunching as he crossed his legs. He took a deep breath, then turned to look at G'rain, who sat up as he waited. Kindness and desire was clear on the dragonrider's face as he reached to take one of Nikyr's hands in his.

Nikyr squeezed G'rain's hand, grateful for the man's patience.

"I don't know what I'm doing." The smith gestured helplessly with his free hand, admitting his inexperience with resignation. "I've kissed a few women, but I wasn't very interested." He shrugged, adding with a wry smile, "I was curious, though.

“Thing is, I..." his face flushed again, "I knew I was attracted to men, but it's not accepted in the hold. And I've seen how folks are treated by others, even in the hall." He reached to run a hand over G'rain's cheek, fingers lightly tracing the other's jaw, feeling the stubble catch. He wanted to keep touching this man, and he sighed again as he ran his fingertips across G'rain's lips. "But I don't care what people think. Except you. I just don't want to do anything...wrong." Nikyr's forehead creased as he watched the dragonrider's reaction.

G'rain smiled, catching Nikyr's hand as it passed over his lips, kissing the fingers.

"There's no wrong. In fact, I thought it was right," he held both of Nikyr's hands, squeezing them as his expression became concerned. "But I don't want to cause problems for you in the Hall."

Nikyr shook his head sharply, looking away.

"I can handle it. It's none of their business anyway." He turned back to G'rain, the color still flush across his cheekbones, but ducked his head, not meeting his eyes, his deep voice almost a whisper. "You don't mind? I mean, I don't like disappointing people. And with you used to weyrfolk..."

G'rain lifted his hands to Nikyr's face, encouraging the smith to look directly at him.

"Do I mind? Not one bit. Nikyr, I want to be here with you. I don't care if you've been with many or none. I just want you to do what's comfortable for you." The dragonrider shifted to kneel, hands pulling gently at the other as he tentatively drew in for a kiss, watching the grey eyes for hesitation. He was rewarded with warm lips meeting his and strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close again.

Each felt the other relax into their connection, moving as one to lay back down on the rushes. G'rain let his hand trail along the smith's arm, feeling muscles flex as he moved closer to whisper against willing lips.

"Now, where were we?"

* * * * *

There they lay, shirts discarded, arms about one another as a new phase of relations began.

Under the eaves of the cliff, fingertips explored as their lips broke through taboos, sensation the pathway into a greater comfort. Though he had lived in longing for so long, the thought of scaring him away tied G'rain's guts into knots, and so he would take it as slow as he could despite the encouragement of his dragon.

He could stay here in Nikyr's arms forever. In these fragile first days of their journey, he made himself content with that, losing himself in grey eyes instead of in base satisfaction.

"How...?" Nikyr was still hesitant, even though his hands had ranged across G'rain's skin, his colour high with both embarrassment and excitement. The dragonrider couldn't help the tenderness that welled with him him at the sight, and pushed the hair back out of his partner's face.

"How?" He asked in kind, gently teasing the words from him.

The Smith laughed, a note of vulnerability sounding in the clarity of the mountain air.

"How did you know you preferred men?"

"Serinth was a big clue." The tenderness erupted into a smile as his mind turned toward his dragon still cavorting in the lake.

"Oh. Blues traditionally only Impress..." Nikyr's words came to a halt at G'rain's solemn nod. "But before, did you know you would...?"

It was difficult these days to recall what it was like without Serinth. Nearly eight turns had passed since that glorious day, and the memory of life without his dragon's constant litany of love and affection seemed like a nightmare dimmed by daylight.

Yet with a flash of insight, G'rain knew why the question was being asked, and he sighed as he struggled to find the reassurance his partner so sorely needed.

"I guess... I never saw the attraction in women. They were nice enough, but when I heard the other apprentices talking about this one's breasts or that one's hips, I didn't understand it. They were pretty, but I preferred the look of the men in their riding gear, or in the Hold livery. Broad shoulders, slender hips, muscular arms..." He grinned, realising that all unknowingly he'd just described the one sharing the rushes with him. "...That was what turned my head."

"And did you... You know. Before?"

A chuckle of sympathy escaped G'rain's lips, watching with fascination as the wave of colour darkened Nikyr's freckled and frustrated face. His fingers felt like they had minds of their own as he tried to soothe those fears with a touch, tracing the other man's side in gentle caress.

"I didn't do that until Serinth rose for the first time." He could still remember that day; the thrill of flight, and the terror of what was to come. Thankfully Serinth's first green had been ridden by a sympathetic veteran, and so G'rain's dragon roused fumblings had been deftly guided. "But when I was at the Harper Hall, there was a boy - one of the boarding students. We used to touch one another. I think it helped us feel less alone."

Nikyr's voice was softer as he looked away, something conflicted marring his beautiful face.

"Do you still see him, too?"

"Hakirn? No." The question was confusing, his last memory made hazy by time and disinterest. "I haven't seen him in Turns. I'm not even sure where he was posted."

The body against his relaxed just a little, but it warranted the softest of caress across a hip.

"Would you touch me the way you used to touch him?"

The question was too fast and almost inaudible, but G'rain beamed as he guided the other man against him.

"When you're ready, and if that's what you want, yes."

Nikyr's breath was expelled in a rush, his voice almost cracking as he gasped,

"That's what I want."

[the-oubliette]

Haze [TOR-Pern AU]

Follows Forge and Sweetsand.

  Nikyr awoke, sleepily noting the absence as Serinth left to sun himself on the ledge. The warmth of the sleeping furs was comforting, and he moved closer to his weyrmate's body to wrap an arm around the man's chest. Fingertips brushing in sweet caress, he pulled close, knees tucked in against the other's. He lay with forehead against shoulder as breath caught his lover's rhythm and relaxed to match tempo.

Time passed in half-slumber, the warmth and scent of the dragonrider filling his senses, a gentle reminder of how lucky he was to have this man in his arms, in his life. He was mildly embarrassed that it still bothered him that he had to share his love for the good of the Weyr a few times a turn, but he'd figured out a system that allowed him to work through his frustrations and bring him back to his lover's arms to renew their bond. No one else could rouse his passion or make him feel so safe and content, and he'd no sooner give him up than give up the forge. This man and his dragon were his and he was theirs, forever.

Nikyr's embrace tightened as his thoughts settled and the man in his arms sighed, lacing his fingers with the smith's. He sighed in return, shifting to hold as much of the rider against his body as possible. He felt the low hum against his chest before he heard the tones and smiled. The Weyrsinger was never without music, but this song was for him alone.

He pressed his lips to G'rain's neck, kissing the soft, sleep-scented skin, breath roughened as the other shifted sensuously to elicit response, one hand reaching back to caress the smith's hip. The movement worked as intended, and he moaned softly, his desire stirring.

Gentle, languid movements gradually quickened, and he freed his fingers to caress the other's chest, touch light as his hand descended to boldly slip beneath the man's waistband. Practiced fingers explored known territory; a gentle squeeze, a slow, deliberate stroke, a tease of the thumb before repeating, listening to the change in G'rain's song mirrored in his hardening length.

The feel of his lover in his hand, yielding, soft heat over iron, made him groan, and he quickly eased their clothing off, pulling the dragonrider back against his chest as soon as garments were cast aside. He cradled the man with arm and entwined legs, his own desire pressed hard upon the other's thigh. Rocking himself against golden skin, he matched his movements with strokes on the other's aroused flesh, heavy breath warm in his lover's ear.

Nikyr sighed with contentment as G'rain turned his head and reached to run fingers into the smith's hair, pulling him into a deep kiss as sounds of pleasure resonated in his throat. Grip tightened as tongues met and the dragonrider groaned, pushing into his partner's hand while his free hand stroked the one wrapped around him.

G'rain tensed, a quiet whimper of need as he pulled at the smith's hand. Nikyr released his grip as the other turned to face him, leaning in to resume their kiss. Gold hands guided brown shoulders down to the furs, grasped at thighs as bodies pressed close, and Nikyr smiled as their lips met, arching into his lover with a satisfied sound. He wrapped his legs around the dragonrider's hips, hands cupping the other's face, winding through hair. Grey eyes opened as they shifted into familiar pattern, fingers dancing over eyebrows and jawline and lips as he gazed into deep blue.

"Ride me, rider." He chuckled -- the old joke between them no less humorous for all its accuracy -- then caught his breath as G'rain moved faster, delighting in the feel of his lover against him as he played counterpart. He licked his fingers, sliding a hand between them to ease the friction and heighten sensation, fingers stroking their lengths together, giving himself over to increasing pleasure. "G'rain," he whispered the man's name against parted lips, heated breaths exchanged, each urged on by the knowledge of the other's bodies as they moved together.

"Ger...I..." Nikyr closed his eyes, arching his back as he shuddered and cried out, his release warm and slick on hand and body. Relaxing into breathless chuckles, he pulled G'rain into a kiss as he continued to stroke, fingers and hips working to coax his partner to climax, his weyrmate's release as desired as his own. He luxuriated in fading bliss, watching G'rain through half-closed eyes, the other caught in the moment of heightened desire and sensation.

Nikyr smiled in anticipation, recognizing approach by sound and quickened breath. Fingers brushed furrowed brow, travelling to caress neck and back, stroking golden thighs to encourage his lover. He reveled in the scent of their desire, lips trailing over soft skin, the fierce spark of satisfaction when G'rain tensed then relaxed against him with a gasp, pulling the dragonrider close as he trembled in surrender.

Shifting to comfortable embrace, they drifted in sated haze, hands and bodies loathe to part. Nikyr sighed as he studied G'rain's face, the gentle smile on the man's lips nourishing his soul. He reached to smooth back disheveled hair, fingers gently caressing flushed cheeks as his were caressed in kind. Joy swelled in his chest as G'rain leaned in for a kiss, tender with the reassurance of a lifetime of passion.

"I love you," the smith declared quietly between kisses. "I love you," both hands now returned to cup the other's face, grey eyes searched blue, smiling at the love reflected, the warmth of the dragonrider's hand placed over his. "I'm yours. Always."

G'rain's voice was husky, those deep blue eyes for a moment only seeing him as he avowed,

"You're the one I choose, Nikyr. Always."

[the-oubliette]

Flame [TOR-Pern AU]

A young Nikyr discovers his interest in smithcraft.

 "Don't just stand there watching, son," the raspy voice of the hold's journeyman smith called out and beckoned him over. The smith hadn't missed the young boy peering over the barrier, grey eyes wide with curiosity. The boy, Nikyr, had taken to hanging around lately, and Makret hoped that showed interest in smithing. "Put this on, if you're going to help me," Makret held out a leather apron to Nikyr, "I won't have your mother after me for putting you in harm's way."

Nikyr laid down the rake he was holding and darted around the low wall. His heart beat fast as he donned the apron -- much too big for him -- but he crossed the straps around him a few times to secure the clothing. His mother always cautioned him to stay away from the forge, but he liked to skulk about, fascinated by the glowing, molten metal, the ringing of the hammers meeting anvil. His fingers itched to touch the finished products or create billows of steam as red iron met cool water. He grinned nervously at the journeyman, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in anticipation.

The journeyman turned to maneuver long handled tongs and and fixed them about a crucible in the forge. He nodded at a framed box mold sitting on a table near the back wall and Nikyr jumped to reach for the box, the scent of clay and resin strong as he grasped the edges.

"Careful, make sure the clasps are secure before you move it," Makret's stern voice drew Nikyr up short and he checked each box edge, then looked at the journeyman questioningly.

"Well, boy? Do you have a tongue?" Makret asked.

"Yes, sir," Nikyr nodded, his voice squeaked as he swallowed reflexively, the blush crept over his cheeks. "The fasteners look like they're closed."

"Then support the bottom and bring it here," the man pointed at the stone work surface close to the forge, nodding as the boy gingerly placed the mold down. "Now stand back. I'm going to pour the metal into the mold now."

Makret motioned the boy away, then drew out the crucible with the tongs and turned towards the mold. His movements were fluid, practiced, as he tipped the metal down the spout and into the mold, small grunts escaping as he watched for overflow and venting. Satisfied, he returned the crucible to the heat and beckoned Nikyr over again.

"Do you know what this is?" the smith pointed at the mold. The metal at the small opening had already begun to cool, white turning to red-orange, a small bit of black crust starting to form.

Nikyr looked from the mold to the man, shaking his head solemnly.

"It's a hinge for the new hold gate, to match those" now the smith turned to point at several pieces laid out on the side of the bench. Nikyr could hear the pride in the man's voice and bent to examine the pieces. The bronze gleamed warmly, but as he looked closely, he could see the details of mountains and streams, much like the craggy area in which they lived. The boy looked up at the journeyman and then back at the metal castings, a hand poised above the hinges. At a nod from the man, he began to trace the designs, rearranging the parts to see that each hinge and plate made up part of a larger picture. Nikyr hopped in place when he recognized the view.

"This is our valley!" Nikyr exclaimed, pointing at the details: a bend in the river where the land was flat and wide and where he'd often played with the other children on rest days; the tallest peak in the mountains; even the little area the runnerbeasts were penned up at night. "How'd you do that? Can I do that? How long did it take you?" The boy barely stopped to breathe. "Mother says I shouldn't bother you, that I'll get hurt but I won't get hurt. Will I?"

The smith grinned and ruffled the boy's mop of dark hair with a gloved hand. Nikyr's hands were shoved into the front pockets of the apron, trying to contain himself, but Makret could tell the boy was eager, the color deep on his freckled cheeks, his eyes bright.

"Tell you what, Nikyr. You come back tomorrow after your work is done and I'll start to teach you the basics. If you're still interested, we'll talk to your parents." Makret smiled down at the boy. If there was interest, he was willing to teach. If the boy had talent, even better.

He untied the apron from around Nikyr and removed it, turning the boy around to face the main part of the hold and giving him a gentle push away from the forge.

"Don't forget. Tomorrow, or I'll think you're not interested. Now best go finish your chores!"

"I promise! I won't forget!" The boy stooped to grab his rake and Makret was rewarded with a frantic wave as the boy ran off.

The smith nodded, satisfied. He recognized a spark when he saw it. He just needed to fan that flame.

[the-oubliette]

Forge [TOR-Pern AU]

There are so many strong parallels between Kyr and Gerain's and Nikyr and G'rain's stories, despite the high-tech vs. low-tech settings and radically different societies.

One that I've been mulling over a lot is how an aspect of the dragonrider's life and the agent's life require both men to come to terms with some emotional realities.

[Read Aileuromania's response, Sweetsand.]

Warnings: same-sex relationship

The heat was intense, but the natural shape of the bowl kept the area well-ventilated, the breeze consistent. Still, Nikyr felt the sweat trickling down his back as he pulled the crucible from the furnace, red metal glowing near-white. He carefully poured the liquid into the molds then set them aside to cool, removing the heavy work gloves and loosening the face mask. He hung both on a nearby hook.

Leaving the forge to cool, he placed a completed mold on the bench, carefully cracking open the sides to release the cast piece. He pulled up a stool and set about degating the solid metal, flinching now and then to avoid cutting himself as the handsaw would stick, then jerk free.

The forge had a view of many Weyr activities but, thankfully, none of what was transpiring, although if he listened he could hear the ruckus. He frowned and shook his head. The Weyr was his home. He had chosen this life and he had to accept everything that it brought.

The smith was glad to have this space, his own corner of the Weyr. On days like today, he looked forward to immersing himself in his work to keep the doubts at bay, losing himself in the details of delicate pieces. He knew G'rain understood why he shut himself in the foundry at these times. He had to enter the forge and let the heat course through him in order to emerge stronger, tempered, on the other side.

The work demanded concentration, kept his mind and hands so busy that he could not think of anything else. Saw changed to file, then cleaning and finishing, hands busy smoothing rough edges. Hours wore on unnoticed, mealtime forgotten as the small figure began to shine. Nikyr had long since reached a meditative state, his actions so practiced and natural that when he raised his head to study the finished piece, he was mildly surprised to find his neck stiff and the Weyr mostly quiet.

The smith stood, rubbing his sore neck, stretching hands and body to ease the joints. Placing the figure in his pack, he closed down the foundry and approached a young rider to ask for a lift up to the weyr. Alighting on the ledge with a quiet thanks, he entered the space he shared with G'rain.

The room was dark, only the faint light from a nearly shuttered glow left to guide him through their abode. He noted his sleep clothes were placed in proximity to the washroom, a basket of fruit and bread nearby in case he had forgotten to eat. These signs of the man's love and affection were not missed by the smith, and his heart ached in response, ​as it always did when he returned to their weyr on the days that Serinth flew a green.

He approached the simple shelf he'd made and placed the small figurine of the Weyrsinger and dragon next to the other bronze shapes. The design and crafting of the mold had taken him several attempts but he'd finally succeeded in capturing a good likeness of the most important part of his life.

Nikyr turned towards the two slumbering on the couch, the bulk of the dragon curled around the man. He could hear G'rain's breathing from the sleeping furs, soft beneath the dragon's, and smiling tenderly, quietly reaffirmed his adoration for the two who shared his life.

He quickly readied for bed, washing away the soot and shavings, and slipped under the furs. Pulling close and wrapping an arm around G'rain, he softly placed his lips against the warm skin of the other's neck.

"Love you. Always," he whispered as he settled into sleep.

[the-oubliette]

Flight [TOR-Pern AU]

To help Nikyr research wind patterns for his designs, G'rain offers to take him up on dragonback to experience how it feels first-hand.

Warnings: Same-sex attraction.

Nikyr laughed in delight, the sound torn from his lips by the wind as soon as it left him. He'd been on dragon back before, of course, but those had been brief trips, nothing like today's flight. Holding on tightly to the riding straps, he felt his muscles flex as the dragon banked and dipped with the air currents. There hadn't been any difficulty adjusting to the movement but he remained nervous about the strain on the straps. It was one thing to understand the science; in practice, he was far less certain.

He tried to keep his thoughts on the observations he should be making, and he was. Kind of. The way the wind felt as they soared, the change in temperature, the pressure and the lulls, the drops that made his stomach lurch -- he noted these things and would write them down later. Yet he couldn't help but simply enjoy the exhilaration while it lasted.

He leaned around G'rain to peer down, nodding at the dragonrider, who had glanced back as he moved, but his gaze swiftly returned to the land below. Is this what riders always saw? The patchwork greys and greens and golds, the glittering waters rushing down mountains and hillsides to pool below, it was stunning! And unnerving. He shivered as he looked down, but whether from cold or the dizzying height, he couldn't say.

The dark man was still leaning over when Serinth dropped into a steep dive. The riding straps creaked in protest, and he uttered a small cry as he flung himself back, awkwardly seeking the dragonrider's form, one hand clutching at the man's waist, the other tightening reflexively around the straps that secured them. The rush of adrenaline made him momentarily giddy and he closed his eyes, again laughing nervously even as he chided himself for being a silly wherry.

Nikyr felt G'rain adjust his arm securely around his waist and lean back against him, the small movement and solidity curiously comforting. He tightened his grip, opening his eyes as G'rain turned and leaned close to be heard above the rush of the wind.

"We won't let you fall," the dragonrider smiled reassuringly at the smith. Nikyr tipped his head back to look at the man.

"I know," he nodded, but his eyes were still a shade too wide and his grip too tight.

Swiftly beating heart only began to slow when the dragon was no longer pitched at a terrifying angle, instead gliding in lazy spirals towards the ground. A quick squeeze of G'rain's hand over the one at his waist as they neared their destination, and then they were landing, Serinth spreading wings wide to catch the air and slow their momentum.

"So what did you think?" G'rain's practiced fingers had already undone his straps and turned to work on the ones securing Nikyr, hands gently nudging the smith's shaking ones away as he deftly loosened the fasteners. Untethered, they dropped to the ground, Nikyr bracing himself against Serinth until he was sure his legs would support him.

"I --" Nikyr let out a small sound of elation, "That was fantastic!" He exclaimed, color deepening across his cheekbones as he grinned at the dragonrider and gripped the man's shoulders to look directly at him. "It's so beautiful, there's so much variance, so many things to take into account that I hadn't thought of, I don't think I could describe it adequately, and I..." Suddenly self-conscious, he released his grip, blushing darker as he saw amusement in those blue eyes. "I envy you, getting to experience that every day." Nikyr stepped away from the dragonrider. "And I'm sorry about...well, I didn't mean to...anyway, thanks."

G'rain grinned back at the smith.

"No need to apologize. I hope we didn't scare you too much? Serinth likes to play," he looked briefly concerned, "although I thought it simulated what it can be like flying Thread." G'rain laughed as Serinth lowered his head and butted him, reaching up to lovingly scratch the dragon's eye ridge. Nikyr watched two communicate briefly before averting his eyes at what seemed to be a private moment.

"No, it just took me by surprise," he shook his head and tentatively extended a hand to touch the dragon's side again, wondering at the warmth of the blue hide. "Tell Serinth I said thanks?" Nikyr looked at G'rain.

The dragonrider smiled as he listened to his dragon.

"He says he has more he can show you," G'rain chuckled, "and if you can reach higher, there's a spot near his shoulder he'd liked scratched."

Nikyr ran his hand along Serinth's side until he could feel a rough patch, rubbing gently.

"Is this the area?" he glanced between G'rain and Serinth, unsure to whom he should address the question.

"See the color of his eyes? I'd say so." G'rain laughed.

"Oh," Nikyr smiled quietly at Serinth and continued rubbing at the spot with both hands.

"So did the ride answer some of your questions?" The dragonrider idly scratched at an area of the dragon's neck, but he was turned to face the smith.

Nikyr was slow to answer and his hands stopped their work as he considered the question.

"I have a lot to think about, but I won't know for a bit. I don't want to have wasted your time." He looked up, mildly worried, only to see G'rain grinning at him.

"It's not a waste of time. We'll take you up as many times as you need." He stepped closer to Nikyr, his face becoming intently serious as Serinth whuffed in agreement. "You just let me know."

:::::|:::::

Later, after they'd eaten and G'rain had left to return to the Weyr, Nikyr sat at his workbench, sketches and calculations from previous meetings with the dragonrider scattered in front of him. He had planned to note his observations, yet he found himself unable to do anything but sit and watch the glow of the forge, daydreaming about the day's events. He knew he should be capturing the ideas that would help him further his work, but he simply wanted to relive the wonder, thrill, and terror of being so high above the world.

He'd been prepared for some of the experience -- the cold, the buffeting, the air pockets -- but some things, like scent, had taken him by surprise. Dragons are large animals, strong musk warm even in the cold air. Combined with the heat of the sun, the well-worn leather of the straps and gear, the sharp green burst of vegetation bruised by dragon feet, everything blended into a warm chypre that even now lingered in his memory. Nikyr sighed, eyes unfocused, a small smile on his lips.

For the better part of an hour, he'd pretended he wasn't a land-bound smith. For a few minutes, he'd pretended that he was someone with the freedom to go anywhere he wanted, whenever the mood hit. His thoughts turned to the feel of the dragonrider pressed against him, his arm around the man's waist, and felt the blush spread down his neck.

For a second, he'd pretended that he had someone to share his life with.

Nikyr placed his stylus down, admitting defeat, and stood, stowing his work in bins and baskets for the night. He'd make his notes in the morning.

As he walked back to his chambers, he felt exhaustion settle over him. Everything about the day had been overwhelming.

It had been one of the best days of his life.

[aileuromania]

Three Little Words [Pern AU]

Being the weyrmate of a dragonrider would be difficult, especially if you weren't a rider yourself. Every time there's a Fall, you face the possibility that rider and dragon may not return. Even if the Thread doesn't get them, there are accidents with flame and going Between.

So this deals with the moment Fall is announced and the subsequent farewells.

Same sex relationship references.

* * * * *

It was always the same.

When the alert went out, G’rain all but leapt from bed, pulling on his heavy wherhide Thread fighting leathers rather than the more supple ones he usually affected.

“I’ve got to go.” he said apologetically, reaching down to run his fingers through his lover’s hair one last time. “Do you want a ride down to the Bowl?”

“I should be fine. I have my scrolls to read through.” Nikyr sat up in the sleeping furs, his face oddly soft in the light of the glows.

The and this way I’ll make sure you’ll come back, if you know I’m stuck here went unsaid.

The dragonrider nodded, stooping to catch the other in a warm kiss.

“Do you have to go? You’re the Weyrsinger. Can’t you just...?” He breathed the words against the other man’s lips, though he knew the answer. He just always had to say it, for his own peace of mind.

“Dragons must fly / when Thread is in the sky.” The song was apologetically repeated, but both of them knew how true it had to be for a harper. Still, it chilled Nikyr to know that couplet might be the last he would hear him sing.

The powerfully built Smith looked oddly small as G’rain swung up on to Serinth’s back.

“Don’t forget I’m here.” The darker skinned man tried to smile, but it was always difficult knowing that this might be the last time he saw man or dragon.

The deep blue eyes were almost a caress as G’rain whispered,

“I love you.”

As Serinth launched himself off the weyr ledge, Nikyr blinked away the wave of emotion that threatened to forever silence him.

I love you - only at times like these could it also mean goodbye. Three little words would never fill in the void should he fail to return, but he always said them, just in case they might never be heard again.

[aileuromania]

Discover [Pern AU]

I wasn't going to post this as I was becoming a bit self conscious about the focus on the relationship without story, but it's a quiet night on my dash, so this might squeeze in under the wire.  8-b This is all just background anyway.

It's a first kiss.

Same sex relationship.

* * * * *

"G'rain, don't go. Not yet."

The dragonrider turned at the almost plaintive words, and drank in the vision of the smith holding the scroll forlornly in both hands.

"I thought we were finished discussing the plans for your tanks?" The smile lit from within as he took a step back into the room, the encouragement in his mind of his dragon bolstering his move.

"I... Well." The man flushed beneath his dark, forge tanned skin, but those grey eyes never looked away. "I thought there might be another reason you keep visiting me. I hoped there was."

"There was." It was like taking saddle on Serinth, the ease with which they found themselves next to one another, and G'rain's heart was pounding in his ears as he sought that first sweet caress. "I don't want to think of you as just a friend."

"Neither do I."

First kisses are awkward things, all hesitancy and imposing noses and uncertainty of how far to express desire. Yet when first contact is made, it doesn't take long for a truly wanting couple to work it out, and soon the plans fluttered to the floor as the two moved as one.

"Do you think we could fly away for a while?" Nikyr's voice was husky, murmured against G'rain's sensitive lips as his hands pulled them closer.

G'rain laughed as he traced the other man's chin with his thumb.

"So it's a ride on my dragon you want?"

"No.” He smiled and breathed, “I don’t want to ride your dragon.”

It was only after G’rain began to chuckle that a rather horrified expression crept over the Smith’s face.

“I meant... Oh, shards!”

Firm, warm lips silenced the stumbling words, and for a moment there was only the sound of their breathing in their shared space.

“I understand.” With a small smile, the dragonrider stepped away, a hand held out in invitation. “Let’s go.”