A Witty Title [R'nd]

B'jin's eyes were glazed as he blinked back to reality, trembling and slick with sweat the greenrider peered up at R'nd with a dazed frown as he tugged the pieces of his conscious self away from the wild entanglement of dragonlust Larrikith had drowned him in. His grip on the bluerider loosened, allowing space and air between them and he trembled as it rose goosebumps across warmed flesh. It did a wonderful job of driving away the last strands of confusion, and B'jin removed one hand from where it was resting lightly against R'nd's hip to brush much-too-long hair out of his face and pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then his hand dropped back to where it had been.

Leaning up and forward, B'jin placed a warm kiss on R'nd's lips, a quirky smile claiming his own as he settled back comfortably with a lazy air. "Good morning," his voice was light and gentle, and he wrapped his arms delicately around R'nd's neck as brown gaze sought to meet grey, and B'jin pressed teasingly against his friend, eyes sparkling with mischief. "If more tests ended like this, I would be a very happy man," he purred, nibbling his way down the side of R'nd's neck, deeply pleased with the outcome of the flight. Larrikith had chosen favourites before, back at Telgar, but even then they had been lucky to fly her twice in a handful of turns. Two of three flights? That was most certainly a new record, ad one B'jin had no qualms about. He wasn't willing to put money on it just yet (Larrikith was fickle, and her memory terrible) but he wouldn't be surprised if the current outcome became more regular over the next turn. At least until Larrikith grew bored of the game. He didn't really put much weight on her affection for the young blue lasting, likening it more to a first crush than anything serious. But that didn't put any kind of damper on the here or now.

"Mmm," B'jin murmured happily, one arm unwinding from around R'nd's neck to trail slowly down his chest invitingly, the greenrider unconcerned about the fact that they were severely lacking a bed; not that his office would be big enough for a-. Every muscle in B'jin's previously relaxed body froze, and he turned his gaze to stare at R'nd with wide eyes for a moment. His trailing hand curled into a loose fist and rested against his friends chest as he slowly tore his gaze from R'nd's to peer around the office with an utterly horrified expression.

The greenrider whimpered, the sound one of heart break, as he took in the whirlwind of clothing tossed around the small room. His chair, kicked to one side and lying forgotten. The neat stacks of parchment - unused, marked, needing to be marked - all scattered around the room with the clothing like a child's tantrum - or a particularly vigorous flight... The ink pot, lying where it had been knocked on his desk, a puddle of red marking ink spreading like a pool of bright blood. Someone had been kind enough to latch the door closed after them, at least. He'd probably be explaining himself to D'ren (again) which would be amazingly awful without the added 'I scarred the brats or life' added in. With another broken whimper, B'jin buried his face in the crook of R'nd's neck, clinging to the younger man pathetically. Why did Larrikith insist on making the best parts of his life so painful?

"I hate my dragon." It was a depressed sigh, the words uttered without any real feeling, and the man was completely unaware of the undertone of honesty that resided within the simple words. Sighing softly again - resigned this time - B'jin's grip changed, so he was leaning into the bluerider with easy companionship, fingers stroking lightly against R'nd's spine. Breathing in deeply, B'jin released his breath slowly, and when he did, his good mood had returned in full, though it may also have been fueled by his freely wandering hands, which were unabashedly exploring R'nd's torso and making their way down his sides.

"What a mess we have made, my dear." That was full of dry amusement, the subtle tone of laughter touching on his voice and B'jin peered up coyly from under his lashes. Well. The office was already in ruins, his class had (probably) been dismissed. And if they hadn't, well, it wasn't like they didn't know what was going on behind the closed doors anyway, and chances were B'jin would once more be apologizing for his silly dragon's terrible timing. No point crying over spilt milk. Or ink, at least as long as it state out of hair and off clothes.

The greenrider smiled up at his lover, the twist of his lips both devious and inviting, and his hands dropped lower.