Dragon update. (13/15)
Title: Ficlet : 13. Bob and Spencer
Rating: Intended for an Adult Audience (adult language, explicit sexual themes)
Fandom: Bandom/Dragonriders of Pern crossover (posted for bandom_pern)
Pairing: Bob/Spencer
Warnings: None
Words: 2610
Summary: Miloth needs a bath.
Previous Ficlets in the Series: 1. Bob, 2. Spencer, 3. Brendon, 4. Brian, 5. Bob Again, 6. Greta, 7. Spencer Again, 8. Miloth, 9. Bob Once More, 10. Brendon Visits, 11. Spencer and Bob, 12. Greta and Brian.
Bob and Spencer
Bob paused at the top of the stone walkway and watched Spencer struggle, one handed, with the long handle of a scrubbing brush. He snorted at the sight, then frowned and hurried forward as Spencer overbalanced. He got his balance just in time to avoid tumbling off the ledge and into the pool where his dragon stood waiting to be bathed. The sound of muttered expletives floated up out of the enclosure.
Miloth, holding her injured wing out of the water, turned her great head towards Bob and warbled her amusement at him.
I hope you are not here to help. My Penth is very determined. He can do this himself, you know.
Cheekiest bloody dragon Bob had ever met.
Her tail waved in counter balance to the movement of her head, raising a swell that splashed, soaking Spencer from the knees down.
“Shards and shells you great wherry headed child of a...”
He was wearing old trousers, and a short sleeved tunic that had seen better days. He had obviously expected to get wet, so Bob guessed that the exasperation was half for show.
“Having fun, there?” Bob stopped short of entering the enclosure. His heavy boots were a bugger to get dry.
“Hi!” Spencer's face lit up. Bob felt a thrill fizz through him, realising the bright grin was for him. “I was going to come find you when I was done here.”
Miloth lowered her head down into the water. Her eyes, covered by the transparent inner lid, glowed eerily and whirled an amused blue.
We are glad that you came to find us, she said. It was your turn.
Spencer glared at her, and then ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. Bob could feel how pleased Miloth was to see him, and it took the sting out of her dig. She was right, as usual. Each afternoon in the week since the Gather, Spencer had been waiting in his room when Bob finished his work. He should have been the one to seek Spencer out before now.
Spencer grimaced and looked at the flood of water at his feet and the brush in his hand. “Thought this was a good use of a Rest Day. Was going to come and find you for lunch. This is just taking a bit longer than usual.”
“Schechter should lend you some hands to help out. That's not a job for one arm.”
“I wasn't going to scrub her all over.” Spencer waved away his suggestion. “Just, you know... the worst bits. Zack would have my hide if he saw the state of hers.”
Miloth waved her head slowly from side to side under the water leaving a trail of bubbles.
“She misses the lake. Never been so long out of the water before.” Spencer reached out with the brush and poked her nose. “Turn around then, you overgrown watch-wher and let's get this done.”
The pool was huge, designed for dipping and cleaning large pieces of machinery, and big enough to fit the green dragon, but there wasn't much room left over for maneuvering around.
Water sloshed up over the ledge again.
Bob looked down at his thick wherhide smithcraft gear and sighed. He sat on the walkway and started unlacing his boots. He looked around to make sure they weren't being observed before sliding off his jacket, leaving his tunic on. It was strange to feel the sunshine prickling at the skin of his arms. He bent to roll up the legs of his trousers and stepped down into the enclosure.
“Looking good there, Bryar.”
Bob tried to glare. He was pretty sure he was actually grinning stupidly at Spencer.
“Fuck off and hand me the brush.”
“I am quite capable of washing my own dragon.” Spencer was trying to sound jokey, but Bob could hear the frustration in his voice. He knew that Spencer hated feeling dependent. He wanted to prove himself, be capable and competent.
“Of course you are. When you have two arms and some fire lizards to help you.” Bob walked over and put his hand on the stick, but didn't try and pull it from Spencer's grip.
I would like time to dry before the sun goes down.
“Come on. Let me. You can supervise.”
Then you can tell this one what to do, Penth. You would like that.
Bob couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.
The indignation on Spencer's face gave way to something smug and pleased at the sound.
“Don't encourage her. She's not funny.” He leant forward, and pushed the brush into Bob's hands. “I'll just stand over there, then. And supervise.”
They stood, both still holding the handle, smiling at each other.
“Thanks,” said Spencer.
Bob shrugged and then leant forward, pausing to make sure that Spencer seemed all right with the closeness, and kissed him, just pressing his mouth up to Spencer's lips for a moment before pulling away.
“Well, come on.” Bob took the brush from him. “Tell me what to do.”
~
By the time Miloth's hide was gleaming again, clean and freshly oiled, the afternoon Rest Day hush had settled over the Hall. Spencer and Bob followed her to a sunny ledge to dry off, out of sight of the rest of the buildings.
When she was comfortably settled, Spencer leant against her, pressing his cheek in against her hide. Miloth's great eyes were half lidded as she rumbled contentedly.
Thank you. It is nice to feel clean again.
Spencer rolled his head against her neck so that he could look at Bob and smile his agreement. He rubbed his hand along her neck.
Bob found it soothing to watch their comfort in each other's presence, even though he missed Dradineth as much as ever.
He admired the way Spencer's frame moulded to the side of his dragon. They suited each other well, all long lines and fluid movements.
It seemed as if Spencer was waiting for something. As if Miloth was waiting, too. As he watched them, Bob realised that they were waiting for him.
He moved over until he was standing at Spencer's back, and pulled him to his chest. Spencer still had his hand on Miloth, but he dropped his head forward, and relaxed into Bob's arms. It felt as though he was relieved, like he'd been holding himself up, waiting to see what would happen. See what Bob would do.
Bob pressed himself closer to Spencer, and ran his hands down his sides, up underneath his tunic. The wet cloth of his own shirt was soaking into Spencer's. Bob didn't want to get his sling wet.
Spencer was pushing his hips back against Bob, still holding himself up against Miloth's flank. Bob hesitated for a moment, and then stood back. Spencer made a disappointed noise, but the sound was sucked back in when he felt the motion of Bob pulling his tunic up over his head, letting it drop with a wet plop onto the stone ledge. Spencer pushed away from Miloth and stood up, as Bob untied the sling holding his broken wrist, and then undid the laces holding his tunic together. He obediently held his arm out, helping Bob to slide the shirt off his good arm, and over the splint. Spencer didn't turn around.
Their hands were sticky-slick from the oil they'd used, and their skin gleamed as much as Miloth's hide. The sun was making them sweat, but the breeze was cool against his wet skin. Bob moved forward again, this time pressing his chest, skin to skin, along Spencer's back.
The scarred skin felt weird: half of it numb, the other half overly sensitive. He felt reckless, half undressed and aware of all the places he was touching Spencer's skin with his own. The sensation felt brand new.
He pressed his lips to Spencer's neck, tasting him, smelling him. Spencer's hair was stuck to his face. Spencer reached back and cupped his hand around Bob's head, letting his fingers catch in his hair.
Bob could see Miloth's hulky frame moving in time with her breathing, and feel the touch of her mind on his. He could feel the pleasure that the dragon was taking in him, and in his attention to her rider.
Being caught in the middle of the dragon-rider empathy loop, combined with the feeling of Spencer's skin underneath his palms made it difficult for Bob to think straight. It had been so long since he'd felt comfortable this close to someone. He had spent years covering himself up with layers of clothes, maintaining a sense of distance, even with Greta and Brian. And now after only a week of contact, all he wanted to do was touch.
He slipped his hands down the front of Spencer's pants, feeling as much thrill in the texture of his skin, as when he reached further around and cupped Spencer's balls and rubbed at his hardening cock.
“Yeah. Yes. Bob.”
Spencer let go of Bob's shoulder, and undid his pants. They slid down to the ground. He reached behind him. Bob pulled his hips back so he could do the same to his trousers and they joined Spencer's at their feet.
And Bob was naked. Bob was outside, with Spencer. And they were both naked.
He swallowed, needing a moment to manage a rush of anxiety. Miloth crooned and Spencer echoed the sound, patting soothingly at his hip.
Bob could feel himself starting to burn in the afternoon sun. He was vaguely aware that dealing with sunburn would suck, as would explaining it away, so he wrapped one arm around Spencer's waist and pulled him back into the shade of the overhanging rock. His arm slid against Spencer's slick skin. He reminded himself that no one could see them. They were on a ledge that faced out to the valley, and they were shielded by the bulk of Miloth's huge frame.
Spencer's breathing was louder now. It could have been the effort of moving, or the way his head was leaning back on Bob's shoulder, right next to his ear. It might have been because the movement had pulled Spencer even closer up against Bob. Against his cock, pressed to Spencer's back. Bob fit one hand down between them. Spencer bit off a moan and arched back, reaching over his head to hold Bob's hair, pressing his face into Spencer's neck as he started using his fingers.
It wasn't the first time they'd done this, but Bob couldn't forget that it was the first time he'd been naked for it.
Spencer was moving back against him, against his fingers, squirming underneath his hands. He reached behind him again, but this time taking hold of Bob's cock, slicking it up with the oil still on his hand from Miloth's hide. Bob stood more upright and pushed Spencer's shoulder, bending him forward. Spencer went easily. Bob slid his hand down the length of Spencer's spine and thumbed at the crease of his ass, parting the cheeks a little. He may not have had sex for a while, but he was no virgin. He knew what he liked.
He felt the surge of desire shoot through Miloth from Spencer and groaned. He flinched at how the sound was louder than he expected.
“Yeah,” answered Spencer.
He pressed in slowly. Spencer arched more, finding an angle that suited him, and then hummed his approval. He dropped his hand from Bob's hip and started to stroke himself.
Bob took a deep breath and then put both hands on Spencer's hips. He looked down at his fingers pressed in against the pink, smooth skin. It was an image that Bob would keep with him when Spencer and Miloth were both gone, back to the weyr. He held on more firmly and pulled out, feeling the slide, the heat, so different from the heat of the sun, catching the back of his calves. He pushed in again, just as slowly. His weight pushed Spencer forward, now that he wasn't being supported by Bob's arms around him. They staggered forward a step before Spencer stopped touching himself, and reached out to brace his forearm against the cliff face.
“C'mon, Bob. Please,” Spencer gasped. “I can't...”
Bob allowed himself a couple more slow thrusts before reaching around and taking hold of Spencer's cock for him.
“Yeah. Yes,” breathed Spencer. Miloth crooned.
The sound was so familiar to Bob. The smell, the sensation. He suddenly missed Dradineth so much it felt as if a sob would escape if he opened his mouth, so he clenched his jaw more firmly shut.
It is wrong that he is gone. I would like to have flown with him.
Miloth's tone was calm.
But you are here. And we are here. Now.
Spencer thrust back against him, a line of sweat trickling down into the arch of his back. Bob shuffled his feet in the dust on the rocky ledge, and felt the muscles tense and release in Spencer's thighs as they slid up against his own, and Bob gave over to the sensations of now. The now that had Spencer and Miloth in it, even if not for long.
Bob staggered a little with Spencer when he fell forward as he came. He held himself up with his hand on the rock over Spencer's shoulder. It didn't take long for him to follow.
As soon as they had caught their breath, Spencer straightened, pulling away, shuddering as Bob slid free. He turned his head and locked eyes with Bob. His eyes never looked down at Bob's bare chest, but he didn't look away either. Bob's thoughts clung onto the connection with Miloth, and through Miloth to Spencer. He held onto the calm acceptance of pleasure, and tried to absorb the dragon's disinterest in worrying about the future.
Spencer kept his eyes locked on Bob's and swept his hand through his hair, pulling it off his face, tucking the hair behind his ear. It was a motion that Bob was very fond of. The hair fell forward again and Bob reached out to tuck it back for him. Spencer smiled in thanks. Shells but Bob was going to miss him. It seemed ridiculous that he had known him such a short amount of time.
He knew that Miloth must have ratted him out. Because Spencer reached out and pulled Bob's head down onto his shoulder, and relaxed back against the cliff face, taking Bob's weight.
They stood silently, until the wave of emotion had settled down. Spencer's stomach gurgled and Bob's felt as if his would do the same. He wondered if they had missed lunch altogether. It was easy to ignore, as Spencer stroked up and down Bob's arm and then snaked his arm in around his waist, over his arse, back up to his shoulders. Bob didn't even flinch when he gently palmed down across his chest, one long smooth sweeping arc. He just soaked up the contact.
Bob was starting to feel sleepy when Spencer squirmed restlessly.
“Sticky,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” agreed Bob, becoming aware of how unpleasant his skin felt, covered in oil and come and dust. They stood up and stretched.
I am clean, said Miloth, turning to look at them. Dragons didn't smile, but Bob could hear and feel the good humour in her tone. And I am warm and dry. But you both really need a bath.
next
~
Thankyou to maple_mahogany for the read throughs and to barmy_bunk for the beta.
Disclaimer: The Pern universe and the world, creatures and customs that belong to it remain the intellectual property of Anne McCaffrey, and the characters referenced in this piece are fictional representations of real people. No offense or infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.
Rating: Intended for an Adult Audience (adult language, explicit sexual themes)
Fandom: Bandom/Dragonriders of Pern crossover (posted for bandom_pern)
Pairing: Bob/Spencer
Warnings: None
Words: 2610
Summary: Miloth needs a bath.
Previous Ficlets in the Series: 1. Bob, 2. Spencer, 3. Brendon, 4. Brian, 5. Bob Again, 6. Greta, 7. Spencer Again, 8. Miloth, 9. Bob Once More, 10. Brendon Visits, 11. Spencer and Bob, 12. Greta and Brian.
Bob and Spencer
Bob paused at the top of the stone walkway and watched Spencer struggle, one handed, with the long handle of a scrubbing brush. He snorted at the sight, then frowned and hurried forward as Spencer overbalanced. He got his balance just in time to avoid tumbling off the ledge and into the pool where his dragon stood waiting to be bathed. The sound of muttered expletives floated up out of the enclosure.
Miloth, holding her injured wing out of the water, turned her great head towards Bob and warbled her amusement at him.
I hope you are not here to help. My Penth is very determined. He can do this himself, you know.
Cheekiest bloody dragon Bob had ever met.
Her tail waved in counter balance to the movement of her head, raising a swell that splashed, soaking Spencer from the knees down.
“Shards and shells you great wherry headed child of a...”
He was wearing old trousers, and a short sleeved tunic that had seen better days. He had obviously expected to get wet, so Bob guessed that the exasperation was half for show.
“Having fun, there?” Bob stopped short of entering the enclosure. His heavy boots were a bugger to get dry.
“Hi!” Spencer's face lit up. Bob felt a thrill fizz through him, realising the bright grin was for him. “I was going to come find you when I was done here.”
Miloth lowered her head down into the water. Her eyes, covered by the transparent inner lid, glowed eerily and whirled an amused blue.
We are glad that you came to find us, she said. It was your turn.
Spencer glared at her, and then ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. Bob could feel how pleased Miloth was to see him, and it took the sting out of her dig. She was right, as usual. Each afternoon in the week since the Gather, Spencer had been waiting in his room when Bob finished his work. He should have been the one to seek Spencer out before now.
Spencer grimaced and looked at the flood of water at his feet and the brush in his hand. “Thought this was a good use of a Rest Day. Was going to come and find you for lunch. This is just taking a bit longer than usual.”
“Schechter should lend you some hands to help out. That's not a job for one arm.”
“I wasn't going to scrub her all over.” Spencer waved away his suggestion. “Just, you know... the worst bits. Zack would have my hide if he saw the state of hers.”
Miloth waved her head slowly from side to side under the water leaving a trail of bubbles.
“She misses the lake. Never been so long out of the water before.” Spencer reached out with the brush and poked her nose. “Turn around then, you overgrown watch-wher and let's get this done.”
The pool was huge, designed for dipping and cleaning large pieces of machinery, and big enough to fit the green dragon, but there wasn't much room left over for maneuvering around.
Water sloshed up over the ledge again.
Bob looked down at his thick wherhide smithcraft gear and sighed. He sat on the walkway and started unlacing his boots. He looked around to make sure they weren't being observed before sliding off his jacket, leaving his tunic on. It was strange to feel the sunshine prickling at the skin of his arms. He bent to roll up the legs of his trousers and stepped down into the enclosure.
“Looking good there, Bryar.”
Bob tried to glare. He was pretty sure he was actually grinning stupidly at Spencer.
“Fuck off and hand me the brush.”
“I am quite capable of washing my own dragon.” Spencer was trying to sound jokey, but Bob could hear the frustration in his voice. He knew that Spencer hated feeling dependent. He wanted to prove himself, be capable and competent.
“Of course you are. When you have two arms and some fire lizards to help you.” Bob walked over and put his hand on the stick, but didn't try and pull it from Spencer's grip.
I would like time to dry before the sun goes down.
“Come on. Let me. You can supervise.”
Then you can tell this one what to do, Penth. You would like that.
Bob couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.
The indignation on Spencer's face gave way to something smug and pleased at the sound.
“Don't encourage her. She's not funny.” He leant forward, and pushed the brush into Bob's hands. “I'll just stand over there, then. And supervise.”
They stood, both still holding the handle, smiling at each other.
“Thanks,” said Spencer.
Bob shrugged and then leant forward, pausing to make sure that Spencer seemed all right with the closeness, and kissed him, just pressing his mouth up to Spencer's lips for a moment before pulling away.
“Well, come on.” Bob took the brush from him. “Tell me what to do.”
~
By the time Miloth's hide was gleaming again, clean and freshly oiled, the afternoon Rest Day hush had settled over the Hall. Spencer and Bob followed her to a sunny ledge to dry off, out of sight of the rest of the buildings.
When she was comfortably settled, Spencer leant against her, pressing his cheek in against her hide. Miloth's great eyes were half lidded as she rumbled contentedly.
Thank you. It is nice to feel clean again.
Spencer rolled his head against her neck so that he could look at Bob and smile his agreement. He rubbed his hand along her neck.
Bob found it soothing to watch their comfort in each other's presence, even though he missed Dradineth as much as ever.
He admired the way Spencer's frame moulded to the side of his dragon. They suited each other well, all long lines and fluid movements.
It seemed as if Spencer was waiting for something. As if Miloth was waiting, too. As he watched them, Bob realised that they were waiting for him.
He moved over until he was standing at Spencer's back, and pulled him to his chest. Spencer still had his hand on Miloth, but he dropped his head forward, and relaxed into Bob's arms. It felt as though he was relieved, like he'd been holding himself up, waiting to see what would happen. See what Bob would do.
Bob pressed himself closer to Spencer, and ran his hands down his sides, up underneath his tunic. The wet cloth of his own shirt was soaking into Spencer's. Bob didn't want to get his sling wet.
Spencer was pushing his hips back against Bob, still holding himself up against Miloth's flank. Bob hesitated for a moment, and then stood back. Spencer made a disappointed noise, but the sound was sucked back in when he felt the motion of Bob pulling his tunic up over his head, letting it drop with a wet plop onto the stone ledge. Spencer pushed away from Miloth and stood up, as Bob untied the sling holding his broken wrist, and then undid the laces holding his tunic together. He obediently held his arm out, helping Bob to slide the shirt off his good arm, and over the splint. Spencer didn't turn around.
Their hands were sticky-slick from the oil they'd used, and their skin gleamed as much as Miloth's hide. The sun was making them sweat, but the breeze was cool against his wet skin. Bob moved forward again, this time pressing his chest, skin to skin, along Spencer's back.
The scarred skin felt weird: half of it numb, the other half overly sensitive. He felt reckless, half undressed and aware of all the places he was touching Spencer's skin with his own. The sensation felt brand new.
He pressed his lips to Spencer's neck, tasting him, smelling him. Spencer's hair was stuck to his face. Spencer reached back and cupped his hand around Bob's head, letting his fingers catch in his hair.
Bob could see Miloth's hulky frame moving in time with her breathing, and feel the touch of her mind on his. He could feel the pleasure that the dragon was taking in him, and in his attention to her rider.
Being caught in the middle of the dragon-rider empathy loop, combined with the feeling of Spencer's skin underneath his palms made it difficult for Bob to think straight. It had been so long since he'd felt comfortable this close to someone. He had spent years covering himself up with layers of clothes, maintaining a sense of distance, even with Greta and Brian. And now after only a week of contact, all he wanted to do was touch.
He slipped his hands down the front of Spencer's pants, feeling as much thrill in the texture of his skin, as when he reached further around and cupped Spencer's balls and rubbed at his hardening cock.
“Yeah. Yes. Bob.”
Spencer let go of Bob's shoulder, and undid his pants. They slid down to the ground. He reached behind him. Bob pulled his hips back so he could do the same to his trousers and they joined Spencer's at their feet.
And Bob was naked. Bob was outside, with Spencer. And they were both naked.
He swallowed, needing a moment to manage a rush of anxiety. Miloth crooned and Spencer echoed the sound, patting soothingly at his hip.
Bob could feel himself starting to burn in the afternoon sun. He was vaguely aware that dealing with sunburn would suck, as would explaining it away, so he wrapped one arm around Spencer's waist and pulled him back into the shade of the overhanging rock. His arm slid against Spencer's slick skin. He reminded himself that no one could see them. They were on a ledge that faced out to the valley, and they were shielded by the bulk of Miloth's huge frame.
Spencer's breathing was louder now. It could have been the effort of moving, or the way his head was leaning back on Bob's shoulder, right next to his ear. It might have been because the movement had pulled Spencer even closer up against Bob. Against his cock, pressed to Spencer's back. Bob fit one hand down between them. Spencer bit off a moan and arched back, reaching over his head to hold Bob's hair, pressing his face into Spencer's neck as he started using his fingers.
It wasn't the first time they'd done this, but Bob couldn't forget that it was the first time he'd been naked for it.
Spencer was moving back against him, against his fingers, squirming underneath his hands. He reached behind him again, but this time taking hold of Bob's cock, slicking it up with the oil still on his hand from Miloth's hide. Bob stood more upright and pushed Spencer's shoulder, bending him forward. Spencer went easily. Bob slid his hand down the length of Spencer's spine and thumbed at the crease of his ass, parting the cheeks a little. He may not have had sex for a while, but he was no virgin. He knew what he liked.
He felt the surge of desire shoot through Miloth from Spencer and groaned. He flinched at how the sound was louder than he expected.
“Yeah,” answered Spencer.
He pressed in slowly. Spencer arched more, finding an angle that suited him, and then hummed his approval. He dropped his hand from Bob's hip and started to stroke himself.
Bob took a deep breath and then put both hands on Spencer's hips. He looked down at his fingers pressed in against the pink, smooth skin. It was an image that Bob would keep with him when Spencer and Miloth were both gone, back to the weyr. He held on more firmly and pulled out, feeling the slide, the heat, so different from the heat of the sun, catching the back of his calves. He pushed in again, just as slowly. His weight pushed Spencer forward, now that he wasn't being supported by Bob's arms around him. They staggered forward a step before Spencer stopped touching himself, and reached out to brace his forearm against the cliff face.
“C'mon, Bob. Please,” Spencer gasped. “I can't...”
Bob allowed himself a couple more slow thrusts before reaching around and taking hold of Spencer's cock for him.
“Yeah. Yes,” breathed Spencer. Miloth crooned.
The sound was so familiar to Bob. The smell, the sensation. He suddenly missed Dradineth so much it felt as if a sob would escape if he opened his mouth, so he clenched his jaw more firmly shut.
It is wrong that he is gone. I would like to have flown with him.
Miloth's tone was calm.
But you are here. And we are here. Now.
Spencer thrust back against him, a line of sweat trickling down into the arch of his back. Bob shuffled his feet in the dust on the rocky ledge, and felt the muscles tense and release in Spencer's thighs as they slid up against his own, and Bob gave over to the sensations of now. The now that had Spencer and Miloth in it, even if not for long.
Bob staggered a little with Spencer when he fell forward as he came. He held himself up with his hand on the rock over Spencer's shoulder. It didn't take long for him to follow.
As soon as they had caught their breath, Spencer straightened, pulling away, shuddering as Bob slid free. He turned his head and locked eyes with Bob. His eyes never looked down at Bob's bare chest, but he didn't look away either. Bob's thoughts clung onto the connection with Miloth, and through Miloth to Spencer. He held onto the calm acceptance of pleasure, and tried to absorb the dragon's disinterest in worrying about the future.
Spencer kept his eyes locked on Bob's and swept his hand through his hair, pulling it off his face, tucking the hair behind his ear. It was a motion that Bob was very fond of. The hair fell forward again and Bob reached out to tuck it back for him. Spencer smiled in thanks. Shells but Bob was going to miss him. It seemed ridiculous that he had known him such a short amount of time.
He knew that Miloth must have ratted him out. Because Spencer reached out and pulled Bob's head down onto his shoulder, and relaxed back against the cliff face, taking Bob's weight.
They stood silently, until the wave of emotion had settled down. Spencer's stomach gurgled and Bob's felt as if his would do the same. He wondered if they had missed lunch altogether. It was easy to ignore, as Spencer stroked up and down Bob's arm and then snaked his arm in around his waist, over his arse, back up to his shoulders. Bob didn't even flinch when he gently palmed down across his chest, one long smooth sweeping arc. He just soaked up the contact.
Bob was starting to feel sleepy when Spencer squirmed restlessly.
“Sticky,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” agreed Bob, becoming aware of how unpleasant his skin felt, covered in oil and come and dust. They stood up and stretched.
I am clean, said Miloth, turning to look at them. Dragons didn't smile, but Bob could hear and feel the good humour in her tone. And I am warm and dry. But you both really need a bath.
next
~
Thankyou to maple_mahogany for the read throughs and to barmy_bunk for the beta.
Disclaimer: The Pern universe and the world, creatures and customs that belong to it remain the intellectual property of Anne McCaffrey, and the characters referenced in this piece are fictional representations of real people. No offense or infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.