24.Oct.18, 07:02 AM
“It’s not that, love.” N’mor said softly, still looking puzzled with his eyebrows drawn together. His focus was clearly internal as he shook his head and brought his gaze back to focus on Z’rin. He gave a crooked sort of smile at the bluerider, “You know when someone tells a joke,” he started, leaning lazily against Z’rin but keeping casual eye contact. “And you don’t get it, until much later?” N’mor gave a soft snort. “I think I just got a punchline I was missing.” It was probably going to end in him getting his heart broken by a bluerider that he definitely didn’t want to give it to. And that wasn’t because Z’rin was a bluerider (which in and of itself confused N’mor), but because N’mor had always thought he’d end up with T’ryn.
Love should be a fucking dragon, because it was as damned unpredictable!
He knew he wasn’t actually in love with the bluerider – not yet, anyway – because that would have freaked him out a whole lot more than finding out he was willing to do things that made him mildly uncomfortable if it made Z’rin happy… But it was that information that made him realise just how deep he was, and how little the distance left was to fall. Fuck. It wasn’t even that he was scared of the idea of loving Z’rin, so much as it was that he knew their relationship was based entirely on easy sex, and the loose friendship that had developed as a result.
Granted, they’d been living together since the fire, but that was because it was stupid for Z’rin to take up a bed in the healer’s wing of the Weyr… wasn’t it? N’mor wondered, with the sudden and icy fingers of fear, if he was unintentionally pressing his rank on Z’rin and making the bluerider feel like he had to do stuff. He was a bluerider, and N’mor knew from experience with his father and R’nd that a lot of things were done because someone else had a dragon with a shinier hide… What if the bluerider felt like he was being coerced or forced? N’mor knew from stories he’d overheard B’jin tell that bodies could certainly betray brains!
N’mor gave himself a little shake, and frowned at Z’rin. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, and gave a soft, lingering kiss. “Its not that weird drink, I promise, and we can talk more about sourcing some off the golden tart when you’re almost better. But can we just wash and go home?” He definitely wasn’t feeling up to his usual horny self with the way his mind was working overtime to super analyse what he’d uncovered about himself, and what it could possibly mean in the future. Why did everything have to be so damned complicated? Why couldn’t he just have a great sex-life with Z’rin and nothing more? Why did emotions and all that sappy shit have to get involved?
Fuck.
Giving Z’rin another mild look, lips quirked in a crooked smile, N’mor slid off the bluerider’s lap and made his way to the edge of the pool, where their soapsand was waiting patiently. Picking up the glass jar, N’mor pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought it over to the edge of the pool where Z’rin was. Grinning once more, N’mor held the jar out so Z’rin could take it, and pour some into N’mor’s hand. “You can go first,” he said, smiling. “You haven’t had a proper bath in far too long!” Pale eyes sparkled teasingly.
Love should be a fucking dragon, because it was as damned unpredictable!
He knew he wasn’t actually in love with the bluerider – not yet, anyway – because that would have freaked him out a whole lot more than finding out he was willing to do things that made him mildly uncomfortable if it made Z’rin happy… But it was that information that made him realise just how deep he was, and how little the distance left was to fall. Fuck. It wasn’t even that he was scared of the idea of loving Z’rin, so much as it was that he knew their relationship was based entirely on easy sex, and the loose friendship that had developed as a result.
Granted, they’d been living together since the fire, but that was because it was stupid for Z’rin to take up a bed in the healer’s wing of the Weyr… wasn’t it? N’mor wondered, with the sudden and icy fingers of fear, if he was unintentionally pressing his rank on Z’rin and making the bluerider feel like he had to do stuff. He was a bluerider, and N’mor knew from experience with his father and R’nd that a lot of things were done because someone else had a dragon with a shinier hide… What if the bluerider felt like he was being coerced or forced? N’mor knew from stories he’d overheard B’jin tell that bodies could certainly betray brains!
N’mor gave himself a little shake, and frowned at Z’rin. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, and gave a soft, lingering kiss. “Its not that weird drink, I promise, and we can talk more about sourcing some off the golden tart when you’re almost better. But can we just wash and go home?” He definitely wasn’t feeling up to his usual horny self with the way his mind was working overtime to super analyse what he’d uncovered about himself, and what it could possibly mean in the future. Why did everything have to be so damned complicated? Why couldn’t he just have a great sex-life with Z’rin and nothing more? Why did emotions and all that sappy shit have to get involved?
Fuck.
Giving Z’rin another mild look, lips quirked in a crooked smile, N’mor slid off the bluerider’s lap and made his way to the edge of the pool, where their soapsand was waiting patiently. Picking up the glass jar, N’mor pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought it over to the edge of the pool where Z’rin was. Grinning once more, N’mor held the jar out so Z’rin could take it, and pour some into N’mor’s hand. “You can go first,” he said, smiling. “You haven’t had a proper bath in far too long!” Pale eyes sparkled teasingly.