Who Carellos Reksler
What A moment for Reksler and Carellos
When Late Spring
Where Sheltered Cavern, Fort Weyr


Fort Weyr - Scenic Overlook - Sheltered Cavern
To get to this room first you must walk up a long and perilous staircase, and move through a sturdy wooden door. Once you do that, however…
Distinct bands of deep brown and black work their way across the low ceiling, and act almost like columns along the sides of this room. The stone has been polished to a high sheen, perfectly smooth as it follows the natural contours of this cavern. Thin gauzy panels of fabric have been hung from ceiling to floor in cascading complementary colors. The fabrics roll and flutter beneath the invisible air currents which occasionally push their way into the cavern. Nestled coves of curving benches and pillow piles can be found stashed in the semi-private coves between the waving fabrics. Light filters through the thin fabrics, creating a surreal if peaceful daytime scene while lit from a few spots unobtrusive along the ceiling at night. At the back of the cavern are two heavy wooden doors while farther forward it looks like there is a larger opening.

At the top of the tower just off the bowl, beyond a long winding set of precariously and questionably steep stairs, there is a room with plushly adorned nooks where one can go if they want some quiet alone time. Ninety-five percent of the time they were used by couples, but Reksler had taken care of that tonight. He hadn’t needed to chase anyone out when he arrived because it had been very early in the afternoon and the place was utterly empty, but hours later after Rukbat had set, several twosomes had decided to take their amour elsewhere with one pointedly sharp and narrowed look from the volatile harper. He did not like to share, be it his boyfriend, or a cavern large enough for fifty people to sit comfortably upon the scuffed stone floor. Curled up with a stack of Earth History tombs within the center most nook and a glow basket, Reks takes notes in a leather bound journal, ignoring the angry rumblings of his neglected stomach. At least he was warm, bundled up under a heavy fur lined cloak, having removed his boots so that he could tuck his legs comfortably beneath himself. He’s bound up his long hair out of his face by fixing it into a short and stumpy runnertail at the back of his head with an elastic, a look of concentration on his face as there was no need to frown at anything in particular. It made him look far younger than his nineteen turns, his clean-shaven features without a single crease to speak of. A few tendrils of blonde had escaped the elastic, hanging loose in strategic points that makes it seem like he’d taken care to look his best, giving his brand of handsome just that little bit of extra kick. Or maybe it was the glowlight.

It wasn’t difficult at all to find Reksler, not with the trickling trails of disgruntled horny youth sending venomous stares up to the heights. There’s very few that could evoke that kind of emotion, but no one can compare to the Harper. As soon as Carellos finally makes his way to where Reksler is, he doesn’t say a word. He just stands there and admires the view in the glowlight. The Baker licks his lips, not from lust, but from admiration. Even when knee deep into his studies, Reksler was by far a truly beautiful man. Carellos watches wistfully at that precious look of concentration on the man’s face. He’s so focused and in control… Well, not for long. Quietly, he makes his way over but in a safe enough distance to not be so underfoot and the heavy basket carried in his arms is lowered to the floor. The Baker moves behind Reks, running his fingertips through that runnertail before leaning over and pressing a firm kiss to the Harper’s neck. “Can you afford to take a tiny break? I brought up warm food if you haven’t eaten. Can’t have you working on an empty stomach.”

It was only because Carellos had put some extra dots into stealth and the harper had failed his initiative roll that he’d managed to sneak up on Reksler. Ugh, he really needed to stop studying primitive role-playing games of the 80’s and 90’s. Blue eyes lift from the many books spread out open before him, allowing them to linger on green before they fall back down to the work he had ahead of him. A frown automatically beginning to turn his lips downwards as Carellos slips in behind him, he glances back at the baker with the intention to tell him to take his food and disappear, but that kiss to his neck creates a flushing cascade that quickly colors him a deep shade of red. Damn it! Instantly the grumpy descends upon him, his shoulders tensing and finally exhaling in a soft growl a prolonged pause later. “Fine.” Just ignore the fact his stomach was rumbling with all its might, he is. The books are gently closed and set aside, clearing up a considerable amount of space that would certainly change the appeal of the pile of cushions and pillows.

Carellos smirks, moving over to the basket to open it and lay out a separate blanket to eat on. Best not to get food items everywhere and with the Harper’s own brand of meticulousness, the Baker had to be sure not to get anything too overly greasy or soupy. Can’t take any chances with the archaic materials Reksler somehow manages to get his hands on. That, and Care doesn’t want his cranky man to get all messy with anything other than himself. Still recovering from that tea fueled binge, Carellos is looking a little wore out for the most part. Work waited for no man so as soon as he woke with the help from Sugar, the Baker had to spend the last of his energy kneading dough. There’s not enough sleep in the world for him this sevenday… Roasted wherry is stuffed in rolls with seasonings inside and out, pieces of fruit and cheese are also plated and placed down upon the blanket within easy reach. Care tried to get finger foods or anything that didn’t require utensils and this time he remembered to bring extra napkins along with drinks. He’ll get it right eventually!

You would think that Reksler would appreciate having the perfect man all to himself. Carellos was ridiculously handsome, undeniably sexy, and endlessly thoughtful. Nope. The harper watches all the foodstuffs being laid out with such meticulous care, a brow steadily lifting, before his eyes dart back to the one who’d apparently psychically heard his stomach growl from across the bowl. Frown, ever in place. “You should head back,” he says flatly, certainly not about to fawn over the man, even if Care did look utterly exhausted. Unfortunately, just being close to the baker was turning his thoughts away from education and nutrition and despite all indications otherwise, Reksler did care deeply for Carellos. “Get some sleep.” The second part is mumbled under his breath, but because the space had excellent acoustics, it carries far better than he had intended. Keeping his eyes down, he helps himself to one of the meat rolls and quietly eats it, gaze tracking back to the stack of books which no longer satisfied him as well as the baker did. It went far beyond their physical connection, and frankly that scared the ever loving shit out of him. Before they had met, all he needed was to devour a good book. Now, surrounded by books and food and all he wanted to do was devour Carellos. Exercising some self-control never hurt anyone, and Reksler had to learn to keep his paws off someone who looked like he was about to keel over and die at any second.

“Should,” he says, picking up a piece of fruit and taking a small bite out of it as he settles down on the ground. “Though, I know I won’t get much sleep without you.” He doesn’t get much sleep with him, either, but when it comes to stuffies and security blankets, Reks was his security blanket. Carellos takes up a roll and holds it in his hands as he finishes up the piece of fruit, peering all over to this place. It’s here he’s heard stories about as he works in the kitchens, some comical and some outright questionable. Though, now, it’s peaceful and quiet. Emerald eyes peer over towards Reksler, and he smiles. Content with just the company alone. The morning shift was early and back to backs are never fun, not when there isn’t enough of a chance to get decent sleep in between. For now, he had the rest of the day to himself and right now, a rogue pillow has his name on it. After the roll, of course, can’t let things get crumby. “Will go back after we’re done eating, promise.”

Reksler gives Carellos a long, heavy, suffering look. The harper was not the man’s toy feline from his childhood. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that the man didn’t want to listen to him though, he rarely did, doing whatever it was that he wanted. His stomach was happy though, no longer making those sounds that translated into a boom in such a quiet place, filling it up with a little bit of everything that Care had brought for him. Deep down, he knew he should be showing more gratitude, but he just couldn’t force himself to be someone other than who he was. Still, once he’d eaten enough to be content, he pours two cups of tea, setting one as far from his books but as close to Carellos as possible. He might not have drunk a lot of tea before he met Reksler, but he sure the hell does now. “Right.” Again, said flatly. When the baker had called him a greedy bitch once, he’d been right of course, but there was no way that Reksler was ever going to admit that out loud. Besides, being called a bitch made him feel gay, and he was most certainly not that. Carellos was the exception, to everything. Flopping back against the baker and snagging himself one of the books on the pile, he settles in to use the poor guy as his leaning post. Whether or not he liked it. The back of his head resting on one clavicle and shoulder, he sips at the hot liquid of his mug and settles in to read. Luckily for Carellos, there was plenty of food within arm's reach without needing to dislodge Reks.

Carellos doesn’t mind being used as a pillow by Reksler, and he is well within not only the food and drink but the rogue pillows. A few are tucked beside him to help the Baker keep propped for the Harper’s comfort and he takes up his own tea. Carefully. There’s a book nearby and those tired emerald eyes keep careful watch on the proximity of one another. When he was learning his own craft’s lessons, the importance of historical documents were beaten into them and Harpers had to be extra careful. They had the most contact with tomes and records from turns long forgotten and it’s those Harpers that are going to keep Pern on it’s toes when the next signs of disaster rear their ugly head. Be it through natural disasters on schedule or disputes from all directions. Carellos closes his eyes, content to have Reksler up against them and if they don’t say another word, he’d be fine with that, too. The Harper didn’t like to be bothered so when small chances like this come up, he knows better than to challenge them… much. He takes in a deep breath, and quietly lets it out, his head slowly lowering.

Admittedly, Reksler does lose himself in the reading, nestled between a good book and a very comfortable heat behind the tension that had built upon the arrival of Carellos vanishes. It was a shame that the baker was falling if not already asleep, because a conscious and relaxed Reks was something he had yet to ever see. Pages are turned, tea is sipped, and eventually the harper is sitting up straight and opening one book after another as he’s suddenly inspired. More food is nibbled upon throughout, but as long as Carellos remains passed out and unmoving, Reksler actually forgets he’s even there, save for the deep and even breathing or momentary twitch now and again. It’s only when he’s taken as many notes as he can on the selection he brought to the spiral tower room, that he closes them and sets them aside, casting a look over the remains of the food that was so loving brought for him. Sighing softly, the harper cleans up, being careful not to wake the sleeping man. Only when the next step would have been to leave, does he scoot around to face Carellos, pulling the tie from his own hair and combing fingers through it as he considers. “Fuck me running,” he breathes, sighing heavily. Difficult? Yes, so would carrying Carellos back to their room. “Carellos…” Frown seeping back into place, Reksler gives the man a shake by placing a hand on his shoulder, intending to rouse him so they could head back together. “Carellos.” Shake. Shake. Shake. Nothing. Dead to the world. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sitting back on his knees between the baker’s spread legs, Reks chews on his lower lip, starting to feel fatigued himself at this point as hours had passed and reading tended to suck the strength out of your body through your eyeballs. Meanwhile, he takes the time to really have a nice long look at the dreaming teenager appreciating just how ridiculously attractive he was and with his own lashes lowering, leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to his mouth. “I love you.” is murmured against those lips, barely above a whisper. Such a shame Carellos wasn't conscious to hear those words spoken aloud for the first time.

Carellos jerks with a start, quickly planting his hands down onto the floor and he looks around with a brief wash of confusion. After a moment, he peers over at Reksler and then he relaxes. Right. This new place, he’d spaced for a bit with the tiny not enough nap he managed to slip into. Well, he would be relaxing, only there’s a definite heat washing over his face. He licks his lips, pausing for a moment and he licks them a second time, pressing them together before they turn into a smile. He can have plenty of that in a bit. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. Let me…” Everything already clean and ready to go. He pushes himself up to his feet, his body still heavy, but he manages to rise and gather up some things. He takes one step towards the opening and peers over his shoulder at Reksler. Coming, or?

Reksler quickly plops back onto his backside and looks away, tongue passing briefly over his lips and cheeks flushed suspiciously as Carellos suddenly is awake and uses the time of his initial confusion to cover up his uncharacteristic slip up. Eyes dart to the baker and then just as rapidly away as he shrugs for the apology, hurrying to pick up the rest of the items that been brought there. Scooting past Carellos, Reks takes lead down the steps to the door at the bottom and holds it open for the drowsy one. All venom-eyed people were gone and it’s soon revealed that the younger teen’s ‘little nap’ was actually closer to four hours, given that either of them could actually read the position of the stars or thought to note that there guard on his nightly rounds which was like clockwork. In complete silence, the harper escorts Carellos back to their room, tension throughout his shoulders and specifically not letting himself even glance in his direction. However, by the time they’re walking in and closing the door behind them making sure to lock it, Reksler is more or less back to being normal, putting his books away and tucking his journal into its place of honor inside the top right drawer of his small, modest, writing desk.

Four hours? More like four minutes…right? Carellos obediently follows Reksler all the way back to their room in silence and when they return, he begins putting things away and collecting anything that might have to go back to the kitchens. He leans back from where he kneels, arms outstretched overhead and his joints begin to pop and crack at the exertion. He groans, leaning from side to side and when his body is content at having gone through enough, he seems to deflate on sight. Carellos yawns, lowering his face into his hands where he attempts to rub the sleep out of it to no avail. The Baker rises after his boots are removed, placed where they ought to be, and he moves to the edge of the bed. It doesn’t take him long to strip free of his clothing, placing them off to the side, before slipping back into bed. He changed the blankets before bringing food to Reks so the Harper could have something clean and dry to come home to. Carellos rolls onto his back, arms crossed at his chest and he becomes one with the bed once more.

With everything in its place for the morning, Reksler prepares for bed, decidedly stopping mid-tunic removal to admire Carellos as he strips down. He’d seen plenty of guys in the bathing cavern and they never did it for him, the baker though, very much did. Flushing a deeper shade of red, Reks busies himself with changed, pulling on some sleep pants. Clothing is chosen for when he wakes and then he makes for the bed. He notices that at some point the bedding had been changed today, the smell of clean sheets unmistakable, and while his insides felt all warm and squishy it only serves to twist his face into a scowl. “You’re going to kill yourself if you don’t slow down,” he growls, dropping his backside heavily onto the edge of the bed and shooting Carellos a long nasty look. That’s about as close as the other man was going to get to gratitude for his thoughtful efforts despite his exhaustion. The harper continues to grumble to himself as he lays down beside Carellos, making sure to keep his back to him after yanking the covers up over them both. Determined not to do anything other than let Care sleep, Reksler curls up and closing his eyes. “Jerk.”

Jerk? Oh, that was only the beginning of the end. Carellos takes a deep breath and sighs heavily as he sleeps, though the look on his face doesn’t look like it’s anything peaceful. When he’s awake, it’s easier to look more energetic but now that the hours have taken it’s toll, the Baker looks like he just about given up on it and sleep isn’t being too forgiving, either. It comes to no surprise that a pitiful moan slip past parted lips as he struggles to roll onto his side, draping an arm around Reksler from under the blankets as he presses his face to the back of the Harper’s neck. He closes his eyes, spooning the other man and simply rests. Poor Reks, adorned with a man blanket whose hot breath rolls across your flesh. A personal space heater and bed vibrator if you count the beating of his heart against a Reks' back. Even Reks' backside is being cradled as Carellos’ hips move close enough to ensure constant contact. Yup, as comfortable and secure the man must feel, he must’ve made peace with giving up the ghost.

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