The Corrals - First Mistake

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Corrals

Enclosed by a wooden fence on one side and the steep walls of the weyr on the other is a couple acres of grass that holds the Weyr's herdbeasts and wherry flock. While this dragon feeding area is smaller than most of the Weyrs on Pern, there is still enough room for a large dragon to swoop down and grab his dinner with relative ease.


(language warning)

Leketh had just finished himself a nice big fat herdbeast or maybe it was a wherry, it might be difficult to tell considering what was left had been descended upon by countless firelizards of every color and variation of hue. The bronze was now at the fence that kept all the creatures inside, being tended to by his lifemate, that giant maw held wide open to reveal the kind of teeth you just did not want to have pointed in your direction. J'en was half up the railing, half inside dragon mouth, yanking at something or another behind one of those teeth. "Almost…got…it…" he grunts, putting his back into it as Leketh rumbles and makes his face scrunch up in displeasure. "Fuckin' Faranth's fun hole, dun breathe on meh." Then whatever it is comes loose and Jae is sent tumbling down right onto his backside to the ground with a sharp sound of pain, and the bronze sighs in relief. "Did I get it? Of course I got it!" That's when something rarer than a blue moon shows up. J'en was smiling a full and triumphant smile, lips drawn upwards and tight across his teeth until they show their white brillance, triple enhancing what was already quite unfair in the department of his looks. He was a beautiful man even with a scowl on his face, but now that had been stepped up to stunning. "Heh. See?" He holds up a very large and broken looking bone, the end not so much splintered as it was jagged and sharp looking. Leketh croons his approval as his rider makes it even worse by laughing as he climbs back up to his feet and uses his free hand to swipe at his own bottom, freeing it of dirt and debris.

Sevran is heading towards the corrals, walking a straight line from the living caverns, across the bowl. His steps are measured, his pace quick and purposeful. He knows where he is going, he knows how to get there. It's a familiar path. Familiar enough that it does not need his full attention to navigate, so the candidate has given himself over to his thoughts, eyes glassy and distant, staring unseeing into the ground ahead of him. Until, that is, he's close enough to hear the ruckus caused by a giant bronze and his 'rider. Then, head snaps up, eyes sharply focused on the pair. He swears under his breath and briefly, so briefly, there is a look of pure irritation. Can't a guy get a break? But then there's that smile that, even from a bit of a distance and from the side, catches him off guard. And then there is *laughing*. It's such a completely alien sight and sound to Sev that it shocks him into immobility.

That smile remains in place as the bone is chucked with more than enough energy to send it spinning through the air past Leketh to land more or less near the ravenous horde beyond, descending upon it like a pack of starving vultures. Hands brushed together they end up as fists on Jae's hips as he grins up at his lifemate, "Who needs dragonhealers, eh?" Leketh chuffs and lowers his head against the fence, making it bow a bit. Good thing it was as sturdy as it looked. Long legs carry the Wingleader to that great snount, caressing hands adoringly over the pale hide around his nostrils and then up and over a single eyeridge which makes the bronze rumble deeply in apprechiation, eyes and facets close as J'en lowers his forehead against him. "I love ya, too…ya stanky lizard." Leketh protests with a snort that ruffles the teenager's dark hair and makes his face scrunch up again, giving a sound enough smack to the side of the bronze's head. "Fuck, that's nasty. Am I gunna have to brush yer…" The older boy was laughing again as he spoke, smiling, doing all the things that Jaelyns are not suppose to do. It's the dragon that's the great betrayer here, a whirling facet focused on the spying candidate and that's what alerts those golden eyes which find Sevran standing over there staring at them. Jae's face becomes the mask, chin coming upwards, lashes lowering before he slides a look towards Leketh that sends him back across the field to extend his wings and take off for the skies above the weyr alone. The bronzerider? He says nothing, he just turns and head for the jacket he'd shed in the heat of midday left beneath the thick trunk of a large flowering tree.

As laughing, and smiling, and general affection comes into the scene, Sevran begins to feel as though he is intruding in to something extremely intimate. This is not the face that J'en shows the world. And Sevran is definitely part of "the world". And it is definitely not Sevran's wish to embarrass, or crowd, the bronzerider. Especially now. But just as the thought of turning, of leaving, of disappearing as fast and as silently as he had appeared, the bronze beast calls him out. Totally was not spying. Was totally about to leave. But too late now. Sev has the grace to look a bit embarrassed, and if he was the sort to do so, he'd probably be blushing. What is there to do, then, now that the cat is out of the bag? Sevran continues his walk, steps still straight, stride still measured, but the pace is slow. He's approaching cautiously, looking for a clue as to what the "right" thing to do would be. Leave? Stay? Pretend he doesn't exist? Eventually he meets the fence, and a hand reaches out to grip it tightly, oblivious to splinters. "Don't worry," he says, loud enough to be heard if J'en is inclined to listen, "Won't tell anyone."

That there was a very nicely constructed fence, no splinters, or anything. J'en ignores the candidate, bending with proper body mechanics to pick up his discarded clothing item and brushes anything that might be on it off. He can probably hear Sevran coming closer, it might be the reason why he appears to be in no rush to turn around even if it meant being able to avoid the guy who was just suddenly everywhere he was. Shoulders tight he seems to decide that lingering there wasn't accomplishing anything useful and he uses his legs to push himself back up to standing. It's the words spoken that brings the evenness of his gaze back towards the butcher, turns him that way, and then plods marked footsteps along the lush grass. With no change in the bronzerider's expression, it would be difficult to predict what exactly was about to become of him, even as a hand slams down into the fence directly behind the younger teen and J'en uses the two inches in his greater height to loom a bit. He doesn't touch Sevran, no, but he was deep into the enemy territory of the candidate's personal space as he leans forward. He smelled of clean soil and sweat, the faintest undertone of the sweet grass that he may have been laying in while Leketh enjoyed his meal. This close, the flecks of sapphire in the gold of his brown eyes can be made out clearly as well as just how thick and dark those eyeslashes were. "Ya forgot the sir and ya didn't salute, candidate." There was nothing inviting about his tone, ever cool and flat, missing all the elements of joy he had so clearly expressed moments ago completely gone or buried so deep they might not ever see the light of day again.

Sevran can't help but jump a little at the hand-slamming. But the looming, and the personal space invasion, do nothing really. Maybe it's catching the bronzerider relaxed, or maybe Sev's just made up his mind, but he gives no indication that J'en's presence is threatening to him. Instead, there's a calm, almost peacefulness. He *saw* you J'en. He does, however, swallow a bit at the nearness, and his jaw and hand tighten reflexively. It's a heady combo. Grey eyes look right back into golden, meeting that stare with one of his own. "Would you like me to salute you now, Sir?" he asks, mimicking the even, cool tone of the Wingleader.

The jump start was probably satisfying for J'en in some way, but there is no indication of it as he remains exactly as close as he had put himself. If he expected Sevran to be intimidated, cry, fight, or whatever other reaction he doesn't get instead of a perfectly mirrored reflection of his own, it doesn't show. However, those golden brown eyes of his penetrate into the butcher's grey deeply and intrusively, as if looking for searching for something or another within them. The swallow, the jaw and hand tightening, the quickening of the butcher's heartbeat, the flash of his throat as he breathes, even perhaps that single drop of sweat as it rolls from somewhere along the candidate's hairline down the side of his face to disappear below. It's all taken in, but it's the ballzy question of if he'd like to be saluted that brings his opposing hand up to take a firm handful of the younger's brown hair. It's not painful, yet, but it's definately firm enough to enable him to draw Sevran's head back to put an end to the distance between them in way crushing his mouth to his in a bruising and passionate kiss. Lips, tongue, teeth; they all serve him well and easily translate that the Wingleader knew exactly what he was doing when it came to this particular act.

Whatever Sevran was expecting, it was definitely *not* a kiss. There is the briefest hiss of surprise for the hair grab, but it's barely uttered before he finds himself accosted by the Wingleader. It's the shock that freezes him, rendering Sevran once more rooted in place and immobile. But not for long. The candidate comes alive under J'en, meeting passion for passion. And just like that, Sevran's hands are in J'ens hair, and he's just as fiercely clutching the bronzerider to him as he's being gripped. Time stops. Life outside of *this* stops. There's a hunger in Sevran's returning kiss, something primal and dangerous, and on the verge of losing control. And then something snaps, and Sevran's using his grip on J'en to pull him away, pull them apart, until the butcher-turned-candidate has enough space to gasp and pant, sucking in air as quickly as his lungs are able. "What. The. Fuck?"

Unless Sevran magically transformed himself into Leketh or could somehow convince the bronze to clue him in, it be impossible to imagine just what went on inside of Jae's head. The bronzerider's lashes remain at half station watching the frozen surprise from behind them, only drifting closed when passion becomes something that is shared, and he sinks completely into it. There is no fence, no firelizards, no grass beneath their feet. There is just the hand on the back of the butcher's head preventing withdrawal when lips, and teeth, and tongue devour, and demand, and take with a heat that rivals that of egg ladden sands. Nothing is held back, nothing left contained, as J'en unleashes all upon him even as fingers are felt sliding into the short soft black hair to be found covering the back of his skull. Any hint of danger ignored, the primalness returned without title or station. The beginning steps of a dance as old as time itself, but it falters and ends as he's pulled back, the bronzerider's grasp released and his hand finds a spot along the fence instead. They were still too close, Jae's entire field of vison filled with a flushed cheeked and panting young man who was so very obviously confused. Welcome to Half Moon Bay, land of what the actually fuck. J'en says nothing, held in place by a handful of his hair and makes no move to dislodge it, and other than the hint of flushed pink along his cheeks and the exchange of breathe between his parted and slightly kiss swollen lips, his expression remains unchanged.

As expressionless as J'en may be, Sevran makes up for it. He's practically on fire, and it shows in his face and eyes. It's fierce willpower that keeps him there, and after a moment, as if an afterthought, he releases J'en's hair and drops his hand. Still breathing like he might have just been drowning, it takes a bit longer for more words to come. And then they're a bit… fierce. "You *do* know that I am a candidate, yeah? Considering you're the one that fucking knotted me." Not technically true, seeing as it was Leketh's idea and not J'en's, but Sevran is gonna go with it. Just for good measure, he's going to take a step back and put a little more fresh air between them. But he's definitely not practiced at masking emotions, so raw emotion, of a very primal kind, is what's playing out across his face.

His hair released, J'en is the one that back away, as this appears to be all that he needed in order to put even more of that sweetly scented tropical air between them, his eyes never leaving Sevran until he's dropping into a crouch fluidly in order to pick his jacket up off the ground where it had been dropped. He rises in the exact same way, slipping it on as casually as if all of this had merely been the most polite of accidents rather than some small bend to rules firmly put in place. Though there was nothing polite about the way that the Wingleader was dragging those golden eyes of his over the panting and flushed form of the candidate that he himself had created. Sure, Leketh had made the decision, but that knot on the butcher's shoulder was there because he had given it to him. The fact that he's willed all of that primal energy to the surface with just a kiss, was not lost on him certainly. There's a snort for the reprimand, "Rule is no sex. I dun recall an exchange of dicks, or were ya so good I can't remember it." Stepping away, he flings his jacket back on with practiced ease, "Maybe it was just that bad…" J'en peers over at Sevran then over his shoulder, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and tips head way back. "Eh, who knows." Shrugging, he sags against the fence futher down as he hooks his elbows on the top most rail.

Sevran wears his emotions on his sleeve. Really. There's no control happening here. Every thought that flows through his mind is probably written across his face as if it were tattooed in red ink. And right now, surprise, passion and confusion are turning very rapidly into anger. All that heat has to go somewhere, so why not channel it into fury? And really, he has no words. None. Speechless. He has absolutely no comeback for that. Nope. Not a one. He twists, leaning his chest on the fence so he can glare daggers across the corral. "Suppose you thought it was funny," he decides, scathingly. A flick of a glance toward the bronzerider, and Sevran's expression just darkens more. Maybe he's making up for J'ens apparent lack of emotion.

Where Sevran was busy channeling all that pent up energy into rightous fury, J'en was cool and calm, gazing off blankly at the ground as if he were alone. Perhaps he was, were it not for the ever presence of his lifemate always somewhere in the back of his mind. He appears to have forgotten the kiss violated candidate entirely, wandering the endless halls of his own thoughts and perhaps even getting a bit lost before the scathing comment tossed his way leads him back to the present. Golden eyes flicker to the butcher, with no reply for what may feel like a lifetime, studying every aspect of the infuriated younger teen that he can from his profile. He's still watching even when the other's grey eyes flicker to his position further down the fence. The bronzerider wasn't laughing, Sevran know knew that this was possible, and yet he hadn't even cracked a grin since the he'd shown up. A brow lifts upwards, "I come across as the kinda guy who makes jokes?"

"Maybe not the kinds that end in laughter." Sevran's not ready to calm down just yet. But it's not in his nature to remain angery, even if he feels justified in it. The fight is slowly leaking out of him, little by little as he leans against the fence and studies the bronzerider from a safe distance. There's a click of his teeth, a hiss of a sigh, and he rakes a hand through his hair. "I think you owe me an explanation." It's said firmly, resolutely. Sevran is demanding an explanation, even if he doesn't really expect to receive one. "Seriously. What was that about?"

Now both eyebrows lift, peering over at the very slowly defusing bomb he'd been responsible for lighting, but there is no other change in his own neutrality or the way he was leaned against that fence. As if it was as natural as breathing to him, all that casual. Having not a clue as to what past incidences might have conjoured up that sort of accusation, J'en doesn't bother to ask, but he remains ever vigilent in his observation as if he were trying to figure it all out on his own without Sevran's help. "I dun owe ya shit, I do what I want." he replies without extending the butcher the benefit of courtesy, but there is a subtle shift in the way the bronzerider holds himself when the other teen loses the attiude, or at least seems to. He exhales, lifting a shoulder up just to let it drop again in a single shrug. "Who the fuck knows." J'en himself may not even have the answer to that question, gaze finding the tree across from the fence where he's drapped himself, and he falls into silence for a few seconds. "Maybe I thought ya needed it," he breathes, his head tilting fainting off to one side as a warm breeze coming off the ocean drifts gently, rustling the leaves, "Maybe I thought I did." It's not much of an explination, but it's something.

Something in those answers seems to cool the last of Sevran's anger. At least he no longer looks like he wants to rip J'en's throat open. He's watching the bronzerider intently, and not even pretending to be subtle about it. He caught that little shift, filed it away, added it to the other things he's learned about J'en. And then he moves, pushing away from the fence with strength of purpose and closes the gap between them with two quick strides. This time, he's the one who's going to be invading personal space. His intention is clearly written on his face, the fire back in his eyes. A hand on either side of the fence in an attempt to trap the 'rider, and Sevran leans close enough to feel his breath. "Kiss me again."

Angry or no, there was nothing about the bronzerider that echoed the sentiment, as if he were miles away from here or perhaps even hypnotized by the way the leaves brush up against one another to change the patterns of light shining through the changing spaces between. That he was being analyzed and processed doesn't even appear to register or its simply ignored, this being a constant thing until suddenly the candidate was standing in front of him and he was jailed between his two arms now placed on either side of him along the railing. It's then revealed that Jae wasn't actually looking at anything at all, his gaze distant nearly vacant, needing to blink a few times to clear it before he very slowly looks up at Sevran from his semi-slouched position by lifting his head along with those eyes of his. Of course, he doesn't immediately respond, just as privy to the long observational silences as the butcher candidate. Then, there it is, the lowering of lashes and that defiant upturn of his chin. A challenge, "No." There is nothing more and he waits, watching, waiting, as if trying to descern which path Sevran will decided to take from here and giving no clue to the correct one.

There's the barest lift to the corner of Sevran's mouth at the refusal, a smirk that definitely touches his eyes. And then he closes the gap between them, arms changing from cage on the fence to cage around the 'rider, a deja-vu in reverse as Sevran pulls J'en against him, captures his mouth. It's a violent kiss, nothing soft or gentle about it. There's teeth, and a bite to J'en's bottom lip that won't be hard enough to draw blood, but is definitely not tender. He may not necessarily have the practiced skill of the bronzerider, but he's got raw passion to make up for it.

Whether or not Sevran has chosen correctly might never be known as there isn't any identifying signals from J'en even as the candidate locks him into their second kiss, regardless that he doesn't resist being pulled in or having all that aggression focused on his lips. The essence of it is returned in an exacting fashion, matching biting teeth and violent tongue, neither leading or following. Passion crashing and twisting mercilessly against passion. The bronzerider doesn't submit or melt against either candidate or the fence, suggesting that this could be only another of his challenges, finally pulling himself back from it all rather breathlessly in order to glare intensely with something far more dangerous than anger. Unfettered desire. Not so gently he plants a hand in the center of the butcher's chest and shoves him hard enough away so that he was free of his cage, reclaiming distance to cool the fire that had been stoked. A suspicious glance is spared Sevran, but that is all, as the Wingleader escapes with quickened footfalls back towards the weyr.

Sevran lets him go without a word. He won't even watch him walk away. Instead, he'll just reclaim that fence rail, gripping it tightly and staring into the corral as, once again, he's left to deal with unexpected consequences. Certainly, he's got a lot to think about.


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