Who Carellos Reksler
What A romantic encounter between Carellos and Reksler
When Late Spring
Where Forest Fringe, Fort Weyr


It was finally warming up outside, well enough anyway that thick winter coats were no longer needed, even if a few of the older residents were still seen shuffling about in them. Not Reksler though, plopped beneath a small green budding tree out back the weyr upon a blanket he’d spread out, wearing little more than his indoor clothing. He’d left his long hair free, nonshivering as a late spring breeze tosses it about, and he has to lift a hand from the book in his lap to tuck it behind the curl of his ear. Mid-afternoon as it was, he peeks up to gauge the time by the position of Rukbat, figuring he had a few hours yet in which to read before dinnertime, and so he looks back down and turns a page with long slim fingers.

It could be warm all it wants, Carellos is still going to walk around in his long coat for a while. It’s not always good to be drenched in sweat from slaving away in the kitchens, then go out into any sort of chill. The Baker normally would, and love the breeze, but a few aunties might or might not have scolded him for it this time. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he finally spots a familiar face relaxing under a tree with a book. Relaxing under tree with book is usually the signal for ‘me time,’ but Reksler never did say how long that designated time was for. The Baker grins, slowly making his way over before kneeling down at the edge of the blanket, and casually laying himself down with a flop.

Eyes lift from the pages open before him for the movement just above his eyeline, wordlessly watching Carellos as he plops himself down and makes himself comfortable. The harper tilts his head somewhat the side, expression rather non existent, even if one brow very vaguely lifts upwards. “All done for the day?” he asks managing not to sound irritated for once, although it might be taken as disinterest considering soon after the words are out of his mouth he’s dropping his gaze back to all those horribly complicated words that he loved so much, finding his place and continuing his digestion of knowledge. Thankfully he was offset against the smooth bark of the tree with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, so there was enough room for the baker to set up shop or whatever it was that he was doing over there.

“I wish,” he mutters, just draping his arms loosely over his chest and he takes in a deep breath, slowly exhaling as those emerald eyes cast their gaze up to the canopy overhead. “I have to go back in a couple hours. No sense in going home and getting comfortable until it’s all done.” Living that Baker life is a busy one, with all the bread the weyr goes through on a daily basis. Having to prep for the next day and bake for the day, not to mention anything else the Weyrstaff might ask of him. He’s a mere Apprentice, it does what it’s told. “What exciting literature are you engrossed in now?” Carellos does manage a little crooked smile as he closes his eyes. Reksler’s face was clear enough on how exciting it was, clearly it wasn’t one bit.

That arched eyebrow slowly returns to be even with its companion just in time for Reksler to get his grumpy on. “Oh,” he replies flatly, turning the page of his book. “Splitting your shift is fucking stupid.” Blunt as always, but the harper falls quiet for a time, perhaps because he was busy reading whatever had his rapt attention. However as soon as Carellos inquires as to the contents a flush fwooshes across his pale cheeks in no time. Suspiciously this is followed by the uncrossing of his legs and the partial turn of his body away from the green eyed man in order to remove any sight of the book from his gaze. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, it is. We’re getting another Apprentice soon so I won’t have to split any more. Unless they’re a total moron.” Just what Carellos needs, someone else to make him look smart! Or something. Those emerald eyes peer over to Reksler again, and this time, he doesn’t say a word. He does something he knows could warrant him a swift kick but sometimes the pain is worth the attention. He simply stares. Just watching every little tiny movement or betrayal of that sour face he’s grown to love so much. “You’re reading erotica, aren’t you?” That didn’t last long.

Carellos is eyed over his shoulder, but once again the harper doesn’t reply. He just peers at him long and hard with that irritated look on his face. Smart apprentice meant more baker time for him, but stupid apprentice meant less. Yes, he knew exactly what that meant. Less bad, more good. “Hopefully not a moron.” It’s mumbled more than spoken, but the sentiment was there regardless. Reksler’s frame freezes up tensely when he’s stared at, the flush on his cheeks working it’s way around to travel up to the tips of his ears. Teeth are clenched and he thwacks Carellos right on top of his head with the book. “As if I would, idiot.” There was no denying those murder eyes and reddened sour face though, even if said murder eyes are shifting off elsewhere even as he tucks the now closed item safely beneath his backside so he can sit on it.

Carellos only grins a little wider at the blush washing across the Harper’s face, he chews down on his lower lip a little as the staring continues. To keep more than anything resembling a laugh at Reksler’s direction. “I didn’t realize history was so…,” he purrs, rolling onto his stomach to prop his hands under his chin, “Arousing.” Teasingly, he walks his fingertips across the blanket towards the Harper’s ass and ultimately right near that book. This is asking for death, he knows this, but sometimes it’s worth it. “Why don’t you read it to me, Reks? The look on your face tells me it’s definitely an interesting read.”

Reksler startles at the grin followed by that purring voice, completing the journey of the majority of his blood volume to spreading down his neck to his clavicle. The hand walking it’s way towards his ass is immediately slapped away, and the thousand painful deaths that he was planning for the baker are reflected perfectly in his gaze. Reks frowns deeply, his brows sinking low into a furrow of impossible proportions as he tucks his tunic even tighter over his pants. A low growl reverberates in the back of his throat, roughly grabbing the front of Carellos’ tunic and pulling him upwards, slanting his mouth over his for a deep hard kiss. Yes that’s right. In public. In broad daylight. Sure they were off in the woods a little tiny ways, but not so far that someone else with the same mind couldn’t just wander their direction. “You’re an asshole.” he grumbles against those lips, applying his teeth to the bottom most one, and huffing out a few heated breaths.

That gaze, that sweet, adorable and cute gaze. Well, only Carellos would think so and if anyone else admitted to the same, things would likely turn ugly, courtesy of the Baker. When Reksler pulls him in for that kiss, he adjusts his open long coat to drape over them both, lavishing in it while he can. Carellos closes his eyes, exhaling a shuddered breath when the Harper gives his lower lip such sweet attention. “And I’m only getting started,” he whispers, licking his lips. The Harper surely has a long list of things other than ‘asshole’ to call him, and as far as the Baker was concerned, it was the beginning of cute pet names. Reks would kill him if he uttered a single one.

Honestly, only Carellos would ever think so, like…ever. Faranth help whoever tried anything with the harper like the baker did, they’d find themselves with a very sad trip to the infirmary, certain parts of his anatomy in hand. Reksler bites down a bit more when the other man speaks, expressing exactly what he thought about the words coming out of his mouth. “Hmf,” he snorts, eyes sliding to the coat being put up like a shield against any potential prying eyes. For this, Reks expression softens a bit, ashen lashes lowering as he leans back in and kisses Carellos much more gently. This was affection, there was no doubt about that, working his mouth so carefully against his as he leans forward a bit more closer in against that warm body. Reksler was practically bony in comparison, but that heat had its own kind of attraction. He keeps his hands to himself though, having let go of the baker’s tunic and was now using his palms against the blanket in order to keep himself upright and not collapsed atop the guy considering the whole leaning thing he was doing.

The only downside to kisses, is they usually lead to other things and the Baker loves those other things. The general public? Not so much. There’s plenty his body wants to do and wants done, but he can’t take a chance on how quiet the Harper can be just yet. Not when he’s due back to work in a couple hours. “When we get home, I want you to read it to me and if we find a part you really like, we might even give it a try.” See, books are important. They have things to broaden one's education and if someone reads, yet gets nothing from it, it’s a tree or whatever material the pages are made from, and time wasted.

Reksler was not known for being quiet. There was generally a lot of swearing and loudness that people passing in the hallway were probably more than aware of what was happening behind closed doors. If there was one thing though to put the cool on those jets, it would be embarrassing the hell out of the harper. The words are barely out and he’s withdrawing, snagging up his book and narrowing his eyes at Carellos despite how closely he resembled the brightest of the red of the redfruits. “No fucking way,” he snorts, tossing that head of hair and pushing himself to his feet. There is no sign of the interest that had inspired him to make a move, chin thrust up into the air as he stomps off back to the weyr. “But hey, if you want to wait hours and hours, that’s up to you.” Growl. Hiss. Stomp.

The blanket is tossed over one shoulder as soon as the man rolls off of it and over to Reksler he stalks, quickening his pace as he draws closer and the Harper is then quickly lifted off of his feet and thrown over the Baker’s shoulder. This is awkward, with their similar heights and all, but still… Carellos readjusts his hold and carries Reksler off, only, he isn’t going into any direction remotely close to the Weyr proper. Instead, he’s walking the other way entirely, deeper into the woods where the trees and brush are dense and clearly out of the view of well worn pants. The canopy won’t allow anything seen via dragon, especially as the blanket is thrown down upon the ground, shielded by the light by the roots of a large tree. The wallow is dry and well shaded. As soon as that blanket is straightened out, Reksler is gently lowered upon and and before the Harper has a chance to punch him in the throat, the Baker roughly grasps him by the tunic and kisses him long and deep. If he’s going to die, he’s going to die happy by the hands of the Harper.

“What the fuck?!” Reksler snarls, being plucked up from the ground like some fictional Earth princess. Oh this will not do. This will not do at all!! The harper is not so much a bag of tubers as a hissing, scratching and biting thing that is all teeth, claws and flailing limbs. “Put me down asshole!” There is a pause though as the scenery changes from rough stone walls to early spring bright greens and thick shadowy tree trunks. “Wait, where are we…?” But then it’s too late, because he’s put down and grabbed, hands automatically coming up and placed flush against the baker’s chest, trying to push him away. “Carellos!” Teeth clenched and disemboweling the poor man pulling him close with his eyes, he looks about as happy with this situation as some random stranger dragged into a dark crevice. Protests die though the second his mouth is covered, arms and legs becoming so much the jelly filling of those bubblies that he refuses to eat. Of course the sentiment is returned, but it's not even remotely close to being aggressive. In fact, Reks was all but melting on the spot, a soft mewling sound escaping from him about fifteen seconds in which makes him immediately stiffen and push with renewed strength. Flushed, panting and now openly glowering at Carellos, he covers his stupid betraying mouth with the back of his own hand. “The fuck’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to give you a go before I have to go to work. Right now, it’s going to be a lot of me into you.” Carellos doesn’t allow much time for air after that, taking that mouth again with a renewed drive after seeing Reksler buckle just the teeniest after his kiss, so he had to take advantage while there’s fire coursing through his veins. Yes, they were outside, they were under cover and whatever the trees and plants didn’t provide, his coat will.

Again the harper’s back goes rigid, blinking this time though with a sort of clueless look that gives way a moment later to realization and fwooooooosh he’s back to being bright red. “The… fu…” That’s about as far as he gets into that because Carellos is covering his mouth again. He might struggle at first but resistance was futile, giving in shortly thereafter as his fingers curl into the fabric of the baker’s tunic and he kisses him back, his heart set to racing as it always did even when they weren't touching just being near the baker. Intelligence slipping away as blood is quickly diverted from his brain, his breathing deepens and he releases a groan of encouragement. It might be still a little chilly outside, but beneath that coat it was getting very very hot.

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