Out of Control

Writers: Bree, Dana
Date Posted: 4th November 2005

Characters: Lenala, Ar'lis
Description: Lenala's Vilarth rises to mate, but things don't go as expected.
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 9, day 3 of Turn 3

Lenala

In the slow months during which Lenala had slowly, carefully tried to build herself a little bit of confidence, the one thing she hadn't thought of was what would happen when Vilarth rose to mate.

Lenala had always hated mating flights. Turns later and leagues away, and she could never forget the months leading up to her first one, when no one had known which queen would rise first, making the flight's victor the new Weyrleader. She couldn't forget the way men looked at her, as if her body wasn't even as important as what it could do for them--as if she didn't matter at all. Just her dragon, and what conquering her would mean.

She'd spent the past three months struggling to become her own person again.
It had been hard, and it had hurt, and sometimes she wasn't sure she really wanted to succeed. Now, when she was surrounded by men who wanted to claim her as their dragons raced after Vilarth with the same goal... now she knew.
She wanted to succeed. She wanted to be her own person, a person who couldn't be claimed by any man.

It was the wrong time for such a realization, and she fought against it...
but it was hopeless. She was already lost in Vilarth's emotions, and as the gold dragon soared above her suitors, Lenala reveled in their speed and their dexterity and the fact that no man, no _male_ could have them, catch them, claim them. **Higher! They can't have us! They won't have us!**

Vilarth caught a thermal and spiraled higher, and then dove towards the bronzes, teasing, taunting. Daring them to try to catch her. Zylarth caught her attention, a splendid bronze who she admired, but Lenala shrieked in protest as they turned on one wing to swing closer.

A burst of emotion from her rider confused her, and Vilarth swung away again, rising into the sky and calling out her challenge as Lenala did the same on the ground. But where Vilarth wanted a male to prove himself worthy, Lenala hissed as the circle of men closed in around her, elbowing one man who got too close. She'd never been so aware of what was happening on the ground before--and for a brief moment panic sparked through her, making her wonder if she was losing control of her dragon. Vilarth turned again, her attention caught by Zylarth, and on the ground the emotions grew desperate as the gold slowed her climb, calling out to her suitors as she dropped closer to them, challenging one of them to finish it.

Lenala's fingers curled into claws, found fabric, and she growled. "You can't have us!" But it was too late, burdened by conflicting emotions from her partner, Vilarth swung directly into Zylarth's path in open invitation.
A short flight, a fast, quick, violently passionate flight that left her rider on the ground, frustrated and furious and desperately confused.

Echoing his dragon's cry of victory, Ar'lis reached for her as he stumbled back against the edge of the bed. He pushed the remains of her shirt down her shoulders and bent his head to her neck. "_Lenala_... Lenala!" Ar'lis had her by the arms, his hands tightening as Zylarth's lust spiraled wide to envelope him. But she was resisting. He could feel it in the way she stiffened as he brought her body closer to his.

Lust flooded her, Vilarth's lust and her demands that they submit to the males who had won them. She lashed out, feeling her hand meet flesh and not knowing or caring who it was. She would not be claimed. She would not be _taken_.

But the need was too strong, and even as she struggled with it, she felt her knees give out, felt the bed come up to meet her as she fell. Through the haze of emotion she saw Ar'lis, recognized him, and she tried to fight the part of her that wanted to claw at him.

As she struck him, a snarl escaped his lips before he could stop it. His hold on her turned fierce as he covered her, and he couldn't _stop_ himself from kissing her, his lips bruising hers with more force than he would have ever intended. Some small part of his mind screamed for him to recognize her resistance, to take care of it and placate her - to _soothe_ her - but her lashing out only increased his dragon-roused, frenzied thinking of touch, take, have. "_Lenala_," he managed to growl, a hint of desperation in his thick voice.

"Ar'lis!" Her voice sounded terrified, but the look in her eyes was hot and angry, and something else... demanding. She ripped at his shirt, tearing part of it as she pulled it off of him and not caring. Her fingernails raked down his back as lust pulled her anger into it, and she wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to fight him off or urge him on, urge him to prove his worthiness, to prove his claim, as Zylarth had proved his.

~*~

It was well into the evening when Ar'lis finally roused enough to open his eyes. Sensing that she was still beside him, he shifted, moving so that he could see her. It was a wonder she was still even _here_ after the way he had treated her... His gaze trailed down her skin, seeing the scratches his nails had caused, seeing the bruises that were beginning to rise on her neck and arms. **Shards...** The bronzerider gently reached out to brush the back of a finger over her shoulder, wondering if she was awake.

She made a sleepy noise and shifted, the movement bringing a soft noise of protest. Her body felt sore, not just the pleasant ache of an enthusiastic flight... she _hurt_. The flight was a hazy blur of anger and confusion, but she could remember the face of the man behind her. "Ar'lis?" she asked in a hesitant voice, almost afraid to turn over and look at him.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replied softly. Ar'lis shifted a little closer, wanting to touch and caress, wanting to soothe, but afraid of what she would do, of what she would say. Again, he brushed a finger over her shoulder in a silent question.

She shivered, but finally spoke into the silence. "Did I hurt you?"

Yes. But he wasn't about to admit that to her. Shards...she had enough to think about. If she wanted to even think about it at all. What she had done to him was _nothing_ compared to how he had treated her. He allowed a brief moment of silence to stretch before he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Lenala. Shards...I'm so sorry."

With a wince, Lenala shifted on to her back, feeling the dull ache of bruises and the sharper pain from scratches. She looked at Ar'lis slowly, studying the soft bruise on the side of his face, the deep scratches on his arms and chest... It wasn't just his body that was bruised... she could see the wounded look in his eyes, and it hurt her. She fought against tears and reached a hand out to trace an ugly bruise rising on his shoulder. "I got so confused, I did everything wrong..."

"Ssh.... It's all right now, sweetheart. It's all right." He took her hand in his and lightly caressed his fingers over hers, wanting to soothe her. He wasn't the only one who was wounded inside.

"It isn't, though..." She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. "I could have hurt Vilarth, Ar'lis. So many times we're told to be careful... not to inhibit our dragons, not to lose control. I could have hurt her. And I _did_
hurt you."

He shook his head slightly. "Vilarth's safe, Lenala. And you're still here." Again, his eyes flickered to her bruises and those scratches, and he ached inside for her. What had gone wrong? **Why...?** But he couldn't ask her that.

She took another deep breath and tried to relax her body. "I'm sorry, Ar'lis. For not dealing with my issues... I'm sorry."

"It's all right, sweetheart..." he murmured, tentatively brushing a gentle finger down her cheek. **It's over now.**

Struggling for some feeling of normality, Lenala forced a smile and looked up at him. "I think we both could use a bath. A nice long soak, too..."

Yes. And Ar'lis would take it upon himself personally to make sure that she got whatever comfort she needed right now. "A nice, long soak sounds good..." he gave her a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He slowly propped himself up on one forearm without taking his eyes off her. And he would gently apply ointment to those scratches and bruises too. If she'd let him touch her.

Uncomfortable with the way he kept looking at her, Lenala slid away and swung her feet over the edge of the bed, looking around. They'd ended up in one of the mating cots on the edge of the feeding grounds, a nice enough place but sorely lacking in the comforts her own weyr could offer. "I suppose we'll have to go somewhere else to find a nice warm bath."

"We can go to my weyr, Lenala. Or we could go to yours... Maybe yours. You have the nicer, bigger, more luxurious bathing pool." He grinned a little, like Lenala, trying to find some feeling of normality.

"My weyr is nice," she replied, pulling the sheet up around her body to hide the bruises and the scratches from him. She wasn't ready to turn around, to see his back and what other injuries she might have done him. It wasn't the first time she'd woken up with a bruise on her neck--or scratched a man in bed--but this had not been enthusiasm or excitement--it had been anger and aggression on both of their parts.

Ar'lis shifted and slid out of bed, watching her as she hid herself from him. "Do you want to go there then?" he asked quietly.

After a moment Lenala nodded. It was the right thing to do--the brave thing.
Maybe after a bath and a meal, they'd have the energy to say the things they needed to say... whatever they had to say in order to reclaim that comfortable feeling they'd shared.

Last updated on the November 4th 2005

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Out of Control