What The Actual Fuck

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Candidate Barracks

Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this small dorm room has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants comfortably. Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses, each made up to the standards of the weyrwoman. Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours.

What the actual fuck.

This is the thought running on repeat through Sevran’s head when he should be sleeping. The moment he hit the cot; the moment his head touched the pillow and his eyes closed, that’s the thought that came to mind.

What. The. Fuck.

After half an hour of tossing, he still hadn’t been able to get his thoughts to settle long enough to focus on the issue at hand. Too many images, too many emotions, all jumbled up together and messing with his mind, making it difficult to pick one out to focus on specifically.

Surprise. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Relief. But even that relief wasn’t really relief, because he had no fucking clue why the FUCK he was relieved in the first place. For real.


With a low growl, he turns over and stifles a scream with his pillow. Even then, he holds back, loathe to wake anyone in the barracks that may be sleeping near him. Fucking barracks. Fucking… fuck. Just fuck. There’s a punch to the mattress, a squeak of the springs and a shudder through the soft material as the force reverberates back.

Alright, focus. Deep breath, made difficult by the pillow he was currently using to suffocate himself. So with another sigh, he tosses over to his back again, staring at the darkness that leads to the ceiling above.

This has been the pattern. Tossing, turning, never able to grab the thoughts to connect them with the emotions boiling over and driving him slowly mad.

Another deep breath, eyes closed, and he decides to pick out the first thought that floats to the surface of his mind, snatch it and examine the hell out of it until it submits to his will and allows him to sleep.




Carefully, he rewinds the scene in his head, back to the moment where things started going so wrong. The confusion when Jae goes from comfortable to icy; from open to closed. When he stands. And then there it is. That icy dread. He can feel it coming back as if he was in the moment all over again, only this time he wants to catch it and examine it. ‘Done’. The word was so final and it made him feel like he was suffocating, unable to take a breath. It was like being punched in the gut and choked at the same time.

But he didn’t know why.

He understood physical attraction. That he knew well. And while his attraction for Jae superseded any previous attraction he had had for anyone, it didn’t explain the fear. Because while getting sex on the regular was amazing, he wasn’t going to die without it.

So there must be more.

He already knew; his curiosity for the bronzerider was something that borderlined stalker-tendencies, and while he’d already wrestled and come to grips with it, it still popped up to haunt him. And despite having questions answered, it didn’t satisfy him. He never reached a point where he felt he ‘knew enough’ or had ‘had enough’ of him. He always wanted more. His voice, his scent, the taste of his mouth and his skin. The way he spoke. When he would do something sweet, or gentle; when the mask would slip and he would relax. When Sevran had his arms around him, holding him close. It would make his chest warm and his heart race. It made him want to hold him forever. He wanted him. He needed him. He loved—

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “FUCK!”

The last one audible.

He shuts down that line of thinking immediately. Flings an arm over his face, as if putting a barrier over his eyes would block out the realization that just dawned. Nope. Not going there. Never going there. Go away thought. Pushed down where it can’t come back to the surface. Trap it beneath all the reasons why such a thing would be unwise. Foolish. Impossible. Forget it. Immediately. Nevermind the stupid rules and consequences for being caught. This was the last thing he needed. The last thing he needed to dwell on. And so, good bye thought. He shall not think on it again. He shall bury it down where it cannot bother him. Where it cannot ruin his life.

A heavy sigh.

What the actual fuck?

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