[PRP] A Quaint Conceit (Tylefisan/Y'vel)

[Fated Fable]

Awakening, thoughts blurred, all Y'vel could register was that he was warm. Warm, and quite comfortable. He was in his own bed, that much he could tell. However, there was somehow less room in his bed than usual. Something brought him up short, and it took him a long time to register what that thing was: he was not alone. Startled, the Whiterider rolled over, but that... actually made things worse. Oh dear. Faranth, had he gone to bed with someone? Why couldn't he remember what had happened? It had been so terribly late, and he couldn't clearly recall much of anything. Who was he with? He could feel the man's warmth behind him, and could only wonder what poor decision he had made. Dimly, the recollection of a late night Flight tugged at the corner of his consciousness. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to get caught up in one, and he couldn't imagine why he'd let it happen the night before.
 

[Masterharper]

Fated Fable

Tylefisan had been in a deep and comfortable sleep, up until he felt someone roll over. The close movement, along with a sudden parting of warmth, disturbed him from his dreams. The warmth was leaving. Giving a small grunt, he realized that he'd been lying on on his back for some time; so it was, he rolled over along with Y'vel, and let his arm slip out, to pull whoever he was in bed with back against him. It was only natural, after all. Tylefisan was warm, safe, and the bed he was in was twenty times better than the cot within the Candidate Barracks. This certainly wasn't his first rodeo, and the Candidate didn't wish for he inevitable parting hat was sure to come. He knew what waking up in strange beds meant... that soon, very soon, he'd have to go back to being alone.

So, he held on tighter to the man within his arms, letting his fingers caress Y'vel's chest gently, softly. Last night... had been wild. Vimiath's flight had affected them all pretty intensely, and he hadn't been the only one to escape the Barracks. He doubted A'ral was going to care, as everyone tended to get caught up in the lust of a flight... and if he did get in trouble. Well. He was too satisfied to care. Especially because Tylefisan had sought out a very particular rider. One with dark hair, and beautiful eyes; pale skin, and a sexy body. The moment he'd seen Y'vel, Tylefisan had been struck. There was something about the older man that got right under the Candidate's skin.... and finally, finally he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted.

Of course, a small part of the Candidate felt guilty; this had all been flight lust, and there was a good possibility it meant nothing to the older rider. Sure, they were friends, or at least acquaintances.... but he also knew the dark haired man was reserved, aloof, and a bit distant. Thankfully, Tylefisan was confident that he could make this work. Hadn't Y'vel once colored when he made a particularly saucy remark this Turn; hadn't their hands touched on more than one occasion when they'd play music together?

If he weren't so confident, he'd be terrified of facing the reality. What if Y'vel wasn't ready for any of this? What if this one night was all they'd get? Well...All he could do was wait, and hope, and try. Maybe he'd harm Y'vel yet.  

[Fated Fable]

Memory was slowly creeping back, the edges of his consciousness sharpening slightly. Which...

Faranth. Had he really slept with his son's best friend? Y'vel cringed at the thought, for he had no doubt of how that conversation would go. Flight or no Flight, there was no excuse for this. By the Egg, what had he been thinking? Except... he knew very well what he had been thinking. Or rather, that there had been very little actual thought involved in the process. One searing kiss had taken him by surprise, and he'd found himself unable to resist. Facing down another Flight alone, given that he'd suddenly found himself in another's arms, had seemed quite impossible.

Had been impossible. And that made him all the more the traitor, betraying Aiden's memory. He hadn't had a single thought about his lover. His many Turns deceased lover, who had been dead for longer than Tylefisan had been alive! What sort of man could move on from a love so profound, particularly when he was the cause of the other's death?

Yet he had allowed himself to be seduced. And he could not, in all honesty, declare that he would not allow it again. He had never thought he'd be so fickle, but... the young man was holding him in his arms, holding him against his chest. His thoughts had scattered like so many flitters, each and every one of them less helpful than the last. What was he going to do? A slow flush colored his cheeks, and he remained exactly where he was. Maybe feigning sleep would get him out of having to make that choice... for now.
 

[Masterharper]

Fated Fable

Tylefisan continued to let his hands tenderly caress the older rider, even as they both made no movement or motion to stir. While the redhead wasn't trying to feign sleep, he certainly was in no rush to move. Every breath was one more moment to share such an intimate moment; every breath was one more second he could revel being in the whiterider's bed and pretend that this was normal, that this was right, that this wasn't just some fantasy.

Tylefisan didn't care that there was an age gap between himself and the older man. He didn't even care that this was his best-friend's father. No, all he cared about was that he was here, and in this early-morning quiet, he could pretend that this might be a turning point. Why shouldn't he be here? He was just as good as any other man, and his youth would be well spent on Y'vel, if only given a chance. But would the dark haired man risk it? Or would, once one of them braved to stir, the peace between them crumble?

His caresses turned into more pets, and he finally could resist no more. Instead, he leaned over to gently wake the man with kisses, starting on the top of his head, to his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck, and shoulder. His grip remained firm, and offered tender nuzzles between said kisses. "Are you awake, love?" He asked quietly, not at all shy about their close proximity or his affection. He awaited an answer by giving the man's neck a little nibble, hoping to coax him into stirring.  

[Uta]

Mr Cheri

Tylefisan didn't mind a second go of it. In fact, the red-haired man had found the second roll in the furs even better than the first. It might well be lingering flight lust, but he also knew the man to be more of his right mind. Surely, the second time, was not as inspired by Vimiath, and that made him fell very good, indeed.

By the time they separated, Tylefisan was on cloud nine, with his arms wrapped tight about the other. He continued to let his hands caress and pet, snuggled close to the other, and hoping the day didn't go by too quickly. When would hen next get such an opportunity? And would Y'vel turn him away?

When Y'vel spoke, he smiled, and leaned over to kiss the man's shoulder. "Mmm, I could tell," he teased, letting his thoughts drift just once more to their previous morning gretting. "The best part of waking up, I'd say." He confessed impishly, not at all shy, or worried about what the older man might think. The Candidate gave himself a long stretch, stifling a yawn, before snuggling right back up to the other man. He was in no rush to get up, and until Y'vel started giving him cues he wanted space, he was going to take gross advantage of the morning after.

He'd been in the Weyr long enough to know that nobody was going to be in a rush after a queen rose.