For Your Weyrleader (PG-17)

Writers: Ainsley, Devin
Date Posted: 19th March 2009

Characters: N'vanik, Duvessa
Description: N'vanik enjoys his control over an adoring drudge.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 2, day 11 of Turn 5
Rating: PG-17

N'vanik

Duvessa smoothed her skirt nervously, carefully balancing the tray while she did so and wishing that there was just something, anything about her that was outstanding. Of course she had most likely been chosen to carry the tray to the Weyrleader because she was so unassuming. Someone to slip in and slip out practically unnoticed, disturbing no one. Though the drudge was not ugly she was decidedly unremarkable and this coupled with her deferential nature meant that she could be easily overlooked. Be that as it may she was still a young woman like any other and fantasies of being noticed by the handsome Weyrleader played in her imagination. What she wouldn't do for an opportunity like that. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, listening attentively for a response.

"Come in!" The door opened and he was relieved to see it was a drudge with the klah he'd ordered. The sharding rain kept him inside and he'd dragged most of his hidework to his weyr because he was tired of sitting in his office.

Entering cautiously, Duvessa carried the tray to the Weyrleader, and set it next to him, her eyes looking demurely down. For one moment she dared to glance up and the look of sheer adoration would have been hard to miss, but it was fleeting as she immediately looked away, a blush on her cheeks. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked her voice soft and low.

He caught something in her expression... Probably shyness. A lot of drudges were shy around him. N'vanik looked her over, a quick assessment, and decided this one wasn't anything special. Although ... not bad, either.. "Do I make you nervous?"

"You're the Weyrleader," she stated simply as she raised dark brown eyes to meet his hazel ones just briefly. "And even before that, you were one of the most desirable bronzeriders in the Weyr," she continued with an uncharacteristic boldness. "So, yes, I suppose I am a bit nervous." Having spent her courage Duvessa turned to go, wishing she was able to do or say more or that she had more feminine charms at her disposal. He was the epitome of all that a man should be, virile and strong and her dreams would undoubtedly taunt her for several sevendays to come.

Desirable ... He'd thought to tease her a little, but now he had other ideas. "Do you want me?"

Turning she looked at the man before her as if he were mad. Want him? She would give anything she owned to be with him just once. There was no coyness in her response, "What woman on Pern would not?"

N'vanik stood and walked over to her, his eyes fixed on the drudge the whole time. He brushed a hand along her cheek, gently cupped her face. "How much do you want me?"

Her heart thumped within her chest so hard and so fast it was almost painful. She quivered under his touch and her desire for him raged, but she made no move other than to turn ardent eyes up to look at him. Though they lacked the breathiness of a whisper her words were just as soft, "I want you more than anything on Pern. I would do anything....." her voice trailed off.

He kissed her, long and deep. Her adoration was thrilling, the look she'd given him heating his body. Here was someone that wanted him, that wouldn't turn away. Someone who thought he was good enough -- no, someone who thought he was _everything_.

Duvessa responded to his kiss with turns of pent up passion as her fantasy became reality. She was certain that any moment she would awaken and find this all a dream. Until then, she would willingly give this man anything he would take from her and consider herself blessed.

He led her to the sleeping room. His hands moved along her body, his lips along her face and neck. She didn't say a word, only looked at him with those adoring eyes. Near the bed, he pulled away from her. Slowly, he started to pull off his shirt, making a show of it, loving the way she watched him.

With eyes wide and fixed in awe she observed with the intensity of an apprentice seeing a masterpiece unveiled, wanting nothing more than to touch the rippling muscles but daring not to move so much as a muscle lest he stop. All the while she savored the warmth that his touch and kisses had kindled within her.

Looking at her didn't make him feel an ache of loss for what might have been. Instead he felt power. N'vanik finished undressing, tossing his clothes aside indifferently. "What would you do for your Weyrleader?"

Tentatively the young woman reached out her hand, looking up as if for permission. Given no rebuke she ran her fingers along those muscles reverently as if he were a piece of art. "Anything you ask of me," she finally answered drawing her hands reluctantly away from him and reaching for the buttons of her dress. She paused, her eyes once again seeking his permission, begging him to allow her to do his bidding.

"Undress for me."

Hearing precisely the command she had wished to hear, still she looked away from him as she unbuttoned her dress and allowed it to slip from her shoulders. The blush on her cheeks was evidence that she was unused to the role of temptress. For a moment she stood there in her simple cotton chemise before finding the courage to divest herself of that as well, revealing a form neither voluptuous nor flat, but pleasantly feminine. Duvessa stood before him, nude, eyes averted, awaiting his next instruction, hoping he would not reject her.

Her shyness made it all the more exciting. But below that excitement was a twinge of guilt. This was a lie, and he knew it. She wanted a bronzerider, the Weyrleader. Not him. She didn't even know him. But N'vanik was very good at lying to himself when he wanted to. The guilt would come back, but for now he shoved it down. "Get on your knees," he said in a low voice.

She did so without pause, feeling a fluttering in her midsection at his tone. Not fear, but anticipation. There was a certain thrill in yielding to his every command.

He hoped she knew what she was doing. Giving orders was empowering, but if he had to give too much instruction, it was going to get annoying. The next command he gave her was clear enough, in any case.

Though she could not claim a wealth of experience, she knew what to do, and she applied herself with unabridged eagerness. To touch him, to kiss him was sheer pleasure and one of which she availed herself with abandon, the shy servant girl momentarily gone.

He reveled in the control. She did everything he asked, and more. It wasn't out of fear of being alone, not even out of a need for him. She _wanted_ him. He dug a hand into her hair. She would treasure everything he gave her. She would love every part of him.

Every part ...

Last updated on the March 20th 2009

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For Your Weyrleader (PG-17)