Becca Lusher

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 12

February 1, 2017February 8, 2017 Becca Lusher

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance (it could be short, it could be a novella, it could be any size, I have no idea) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || Last Part ||

In which Khennik proves yet again that actions speak louder than grumpy reputations.

12
Sigh

IT WAS TOO QUIET. Khennik had worked hard deep into the afternoon, forcing himself to finish his hated report, determined not to let anything distract him. Nothing had.

Which was most unusual.

Standing up from his desk, he stretched out the aches and kinks from his body and glanced down in surprise as his stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like. Whatever else Mastekh’s faults may be – and they were legion – his aide always made sure Khennik had food, whether he wanted it or not.

Yet here he stood inside his own suite with a belly growling from hunger. Most unusual indeed.

Frowning, Khennik rolled his shoulders as he crossed his bedroom, ready to unravel this latest mystery.

A dragon lay snoring in the main room. No, not just any dragon: Estenarven.

Big and bulky and grey, the Boulderforce lay stretched out across the entire front half of the room, completely blocking the door, his bulk extending from one wall all the way to the other. Resting halfway between his right side and his back, one wing trailed limply across his shoulder and the other was probably crumpled between him – explaining his in-between position.

With his head completely upside down, the end of his nose poking into Mastekh’s bedroom, the Boulderforce huffed and wheezed and sounded rather less than comfortable.

Khennik clenched his jaw. Well, this surely explained why he hadn’t been interrupted or fed all day. With Estenarven blocking the door, there was no possible way for anyone to leave or enter the suite. Poor Mastekh was probably cowering in his room, wondering how best to evict this invading monster who was holding him back from all his duties. Blasted Boulderforce! If he hadn’t drunk so much the night before he wouldn’t still be sleeping it off now, well into the next afternoon.

If his behaviour had unsettled Mastekh in any way, Khennik would –

He blinked.

At some point during his internal tirade, he’d begun marching across the suite, dodging around seating clusters and travel chests, aiming for Estenarven’s head and the ears into which he intended to roar.

Until he rounded the edge of Estenarven’s wing and saw the Boulderforce’s front paws for the first time. And what they cradled gently inside them.

Mastekh. Estenarven had fallen asleep with Mastekh. The Boulderforce was cuddling the Rainstorm like a toy. And the Rainstorm lay limp and smiling as if he was entirely at peace with the situation.

Well.

Khennik rubbed a hand over his bald head, uncertain quite how to feel about this change of events. After all, he could hardly be angry with Estenarven for unsettling Mastekh when Mastekh seemed more than happy with everything. He certainly couldn’t scold the Boulderforce for invading the Rainstorm’s room when the pair of them were sleeping together.

Nor could he get angry over having the entranceway blocked, since the only people Khennik was willing to see on a daily basis were already inside.

Nor could he be annoyed about feeling hungry, since he was constantly trying to get Mastekh to stop fussing over him, assuring his aide that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself if necessary.

Hm.

Khennik eyed his slumbering aides, unable to deny how contented the pair of them seemed. It made warmth kindle inside his own chest and Khennik rubbed suspiciously at it.

Estenarven heaved a huge sigh and rolled onto his side, curling around until his head rested alongside Mastekh. The Rainstorm stirred just enough to tuck his head under the Boulderforce’s neck, and the pair slept on oblivious.

Khennik ran a hand over his head and rubbed at his chest again. Then he snorted, shook his head and turned around.

Let them sleep. Peace was hard to come by these days, ever since he’d left his desert homelands and especially since he’d been assigned to the human delegation.

Yes, let his noisy, disruptive, ridiculous aides sleep, just so long as they kept blocking the door and keeping the outside world at bay. Khennik could survive being hungry for a little while yet.

In fact, now that his report was finished and no one had succeeded in breaking down his door, Khennik decided to follow his aides’ example. Shutting the door to his bedroom, he shoved his desk and papers safely out of the way, then gave into the urge to release his own true form. He might not have had enough room to sprawl inelegantly from one wall to the other, as Estenarven had done, but there was space to spare to stretch his wings, just so long as he curled himself up first.

Doing just that, Khennik flexed his wings, yawned and settled down for a deliciously unplanned afternoon nap.

More next Wednesday. Hopefully. I need to write it first.
While I’m at it, I guess I should look for an actual plot, but where would be the fun in that?

Take care, my lovelies!

Overworld, Updates

Courtship News

January 25, 2017 Becca Lusher

Sorry to those looking for a cute dragon fix. No A Courtship of Dragons this week, because I double booked my Wednesday update, and since Rift ended on a mean cliffhanger I think I should post that one today instead.

Hope that’s okay and I’ll see you next Wednesday for more Esten/Mastekh cuteness.

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 11

January 18, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Some of you may wish to save this for tomorrow, just in case you are in need of something excessively cute and cuddly (literally) to cheer you up.

11
Making a Meal of Things

MASTEKH WAS MERRILY humming an old Flowflight nursery rhyme, singing the odd line where he could remember the words, as he returned to Elder Blazeborn’s suite. The halls of Spire Heights were still rather quiet as a ferocious storm raged beyond the walls.

According to the dracos in the kitchen, most of the kin court were out in it, indulging their Tempestfury natures and revelling in the wild weather. Mastekh had always known Skystorms were loose in the scales, but here was extra proof.

Still, he didn’t much care what his hosts were getting up to, just so long as it meant he – and his elder – were left alone. Those who weren’t out in the storm were likely still recovering from the banquet the night before anyway. Like Estenarven.

A frisson of excitement rippled through Mastekh as he picked up his pace. His arms were starting to ache from the sheer amount of food he’d piled onto the tray in a bid to satisfy the appetites of a Blazeborn and a Boulderforce. Sunhigh would be long passed at this rate, if he didn’t hurry up and get back to them both.

With a light skip in his step and an adventurous warble to his tune, Mastekh finally reached the door of his elder’s suite. Since his hands were fully, he cast a quick glance up and down the corridor before allowing his tail to uncurl beneath his robe. Elder Blazeborn would frown at him for such a move, mixing his human and dragon forms in such a way. He’d accuse Mastekh of losing control or focus, but Mastekh was perfectly in control of himself, he just needed a little extra help.

If he’d been one of the more aquatic Flowflights – a Seadrake or a Riverstone perhaps – he could have used his tail like a tentacle and open the door with it. Alas, he was just a simple Rainstorm, so he propped up one side of the tray with his sturdy tail and used his free hand like anyone else might.

The lock clicked softly and Mastekh hurriedly wriggled his tail back beneath his robe, tightening his grip on the food tray as he twitched his shoulders and forced his extra limb to vanish back wherever the rest of his dragon form went when he was in this shape. The recall sent a shudder right up his spine, and he staggered sideways into the doorframe as he adjusted to the shift in balance.

Straightening up, he twisted his hips to ensure that his robe was lying straight once more, and nudged the door open the rest of the way. Satisfied that there was no sign – beyond a slightly damp line on the hall floor that was drying swiftly – of what he’d done, Mastekh stepped into the suite, humming triumphantly.

He turned to bump the door shut with his hip and yelped as he collided with the massive snout of Estenarven’s native form. Foot slipping on the puddle of drool beneath his slack lips, Mastekh overbalanced. The rounded ridge above one nostril caught him right in the gut, both knocking the wind out of him and toppling him forwards.

The door slammed and the heavy tray smacked down right in the middle of Estenarven’s slumbering face.

“Whuh!”

Up went the Boulderforce, taking Mastekh with him, food tumbling everywhere.

“Oh no!” Mastekh wailed, feet kicking as he was lifted up towards the high ceiling, toes catching on the soft insides of Estenarven’s bottom lip.

The Boulderforce drew in a deep breath, his right nostril sucking Mastekh’s belly in tight. Which was good because as Estenarven’s dark eyes crossed in an effort to focus on what was clinging to his face, his mouth gaped open in surprise and Mastekh began to slip.

Estenarven snorted with shock and Mastekh yipped, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the cold, smooth stone of the dragon’s muzzle. Sharp teeth loomed as he fell passed his mouth and Mastekh pulled his hands sharply back.

And grunted as he landed firmly in the middle of Estenarven’s paw.

Rumbling in confusion, the big Boulderforce placed Mastekh gently on the floor and lowered his head to squint at him. “What happened?” he asked, sounding more than a little sleepy.

Regaining his feet, Mastekh looked down at the food he’d so carefully selected, prepared and carried all the way back now lying ruined and scattered all around the pair of them. His vision blurred and his lip began to wobble, defeat and sadness welling up inside him.

Until a big, cool nose nudged him in the belly.

“Mmm,” Estenarven rumbled, sending delicious tingles racing all through Mastekh’s body and driving away any wobbles with ticklish giggles. “You brought breakfast.”

Pushing Mastekh gently out of the way with another affectionate nudge, Estenarven them proceeded to clear every last crumb, splash and splatter from the floor with barely a pause for breath. Nor did he complain over the unorthodox method of presentation.

Instead he devoured the lot with a litany of contented noises that swiftly overcame Mastekh’s disappointment and even raised a smile.

“Perfect,” Estenarven announced, once the floor was clean and he’d raised his head, licking his lips to savour every last speck. Then he lifted his great head up towards the ceiling and gave an enormous yawn. “Just what I needed.”

A rush of satisfaction that he’d done the right thing filled Mastekh and he stepped aside as Estenarven squirmed forwards, freeing his tail which had somehow been left behind in his room.

“Are you well?” he asked as the Boulderforce rolled slightly to one side and stretched out all four legs like a tired dragonling.

“Mm,” Estenarven murmured, reaching out to snag Mastekh around the waist. Then he curled inwards, tail wrapping around his body, Mastekh clutched against his chest, head turned inwards to cuddle him in closer. “Am now.” He gave a sleepy huff and closed his eyes.

Entirely surrounded by the dozing Boulderforce, Mastekh raised his hands and looked down. Though Estenarven’s hold was gentle enough not to hurt or squeeze him, it was still secure enough to ensure he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d been caught up like a treasured toy. Mastekh was vaguely aware that he should feel annoyed. How would he possibly be able to get any chores done this way? And just think of all the things Estenarven was leaving undone while he lazily slept the day away.

And yet, as Mastekh slowly relaxed into the sure grip that held onto him so tightly, surprised at how soft the inner pads of a Boulderforce’s front paw could be, he placed a hand on the cool scales of Estenarven’s cheek and felt all gooey inside. The dragon holding him was sleeping now, sleeping peacefully and deep, but when Mastekh made a token effort to extract himself, Estenarven muttered a sleepy protest and curled up even tighter, imprisoning his prize between his heart and his cheek.

Mastekh melted, his legs turning to jelly as he sank into the soft support of Estenarven’s grip. A strong heart beat against his back, while ahead of him a charcoal lid flickered over Estenarven’s closed eyes. He reached out, smoothing his hand along the tiny, delicate scales beneath that eye, marvelling that some were even smaller than his human fingertips.

The charcoal lid lifted ever so slightly, revealing a shimmering blackness beneath. “Stay,” Estenarven rumbled, his deep voice making Mastekh’s whole body hum.

As if Mastekh could do anything else. Pressing both hands against Estenarven’s face, he rested his cheek against Estenarven’s and sighed. “Yes.”

Unfolding a wing to cover them both, Estenarven huffed out a great sigh of his own and, curled up in the front corner of the suite, the pair of them drifted into sleep regardless of duty or the storms that raged beyond the walls.

Whoever you are, wheresoever in the world you may be, if you’re reading this I hope you enjoyed it and know you are not alone.

Dragon hugs!

Take care, my lovelies.

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 10

January 11, 2017January 11, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 ||

Very short update today, but on the brighter side, this is the first part I’ve written since November. Yay, the story continues!

Although, I think Esten is slightly less enthused by this…

10
The Morning After

MASTEKH WAS ABSOLUTELY RIGHT; Estenarven did not feel better in the morning. In fact, he felt so awful when he opened his eyes to the pallid light sneaking through the narrow window, that he went straight back to sleep again. Mornings were vastly overrated anyway.

With a head banging to the painful beat of its own internal drum, a mouth in which a bear must have hibernated for the winter and skin that felt dry enough to crack, Estenarven was in no mood to move, even after he woke for the second time. Scales rubbed against the inside of his skin, making his bones ache and his head pound worse than ever. He needed to shift, badly, but this room wasn’t even large enough to contain his tail, let alone the rest of him.

Groaning and cursing his own foolishness, he slithered from the bed. Cold air instantly nipped at his naked body, but there was so many other discomforts assaulting him that Estenarven didn’t much mind it. The hard floor called to him, the old stone calling to the stone within him.

Not yet, not yet, he reminded himself, dragging his aching body over the roughly woven carpet. He considered pausing to stand up, to try and put his legs to use, but the mere thought of raising his head so high from the ground made his stomach churn. With his hold already so tenuous upon his human form, Estenarven opted for speed over elegance.

He had to get out of this room. Now. Before he ended up squashed and stuck or smashing through the walls.

Stone hummed beneath him as Estenarven reached up a desperate hand and scrabbled the door open. He tumbled out into the wider room beyond – and not a moment too soon.

The pounding in his head rose to a crescendo, his dry skin cracked and his stomach revolted as his draconic form burst through his control. Pain, pain, pain. He hadn’t experienced such an agonising shift since his first changeling days.

Uncle Stone! That hurt.

Raising himself up on trembling legs, Estenarven had just enough awareness to realise that his tail did just about fit inside his room, before he staggered forward a couple of steps and collapsed.

Stone called to stone, and he dropped into blessed unconsciousness.

More next Wednesday.
I’d best get writing again.

Take care, my lovelies!

Books, Updates, Writing

Where is Storm Rising?

January 9, 2017 Becca Lusher

Also known as Plans for 2017. Of a sort.

When I released Blazing Dawn back in autumn, the plan was to have Storm Rising (Dragonlands 2) written and ready to go around now. Well, the good news is that it is written, but the bad news is that it isn’t ready to go anywhere. Or it might be, I don’t know.

I’ve lost confidence in my writing. This isn’t unusual for me, but it’s kind of inconvenient. So for the moment, Storm Rising is on hold while I run through Blazing Dawn again. I’m half wondering if I should fully revise BD before going further with the series, I’m also wondering if perhaps I should write the whole lot out first before releasing any of them, and focus on getting the Wingborn books out first instead.

I don’t know what to do and that’s making me hesitate. Which is not helpful.

So I have a question (well, a few, but we’ll start with this one) for anyone who has read BD. Is there anything you wish I hadn’t done or had done differently?

I know there are a few things people didn’t like with it. I also know that SR does clear up a few issues (why Ushara is as she is, mostly), and that there are some things I tried to alter before release that I still might not have managed as well as people would like. The Ushara issue is particularly tricky because of perspective. The characters I’m writing with don’t know much about her and what’s going on until SR, which ties my hands a fair bit. I’m tempted at times to use Goryal’s pov, but they know everything and I’ll never be able to keep secrets again. (Also, I didn’t know everything until SR, so there is that.)

Basically, what didn’t you like? Please be as honest as you can, I won’t take offense. I’m trying to make this book as strong as possible and I’m currently doubtful that I did that before release, so I’d like to try really hard to clean it up now before going further with the series. (If you’d rather not comment below, feel free to email me aekhtales[at]gmail[dot]com. I will be exceedingly grateful.)

I’d also really like to work on releasing paperback copies of my books this year, so if I’m making changes, now is the time to do it.

And if there’s anyone out there who would like to read Storm Rising to help me figure out if it’s as messy as I currently fear, then that would be awesome too.

Oh, and since I’m doing a revised version anyway – even if it’s just clearing up typos – I’m thinking about adding a character list and glossary to the end. I have a few questions about how to go about that, but it’s probably best I save that for another day. Level of detail, mostly.

For now my plans for the year are rather nebulous but go sort of like this:

Revise and re-release Blazing Dawn.
Finish Rift Riders serial and release as an ebook.
Paperback versions of Wingborn, Rift Riders and Blazing Dawn.
Write more A Courtship of Dragons and serialise it properly.
Serialise Dragongifted (Wingborn Book 3)
Write Dragonlands 4 and 5
?Release Dragonlands 2 and 3?
?Paperback versions of Aekhartain Tales?
Write something else.

Beyond that I’m not certain. Nor am I willing to put dates on any of these (except finishing Rift serial, which should be next month sometime), because every time I project into the future something else comes along to smash my predictions to bits.

I also hope to actively start promoting my books this year too and search for some helpful reviewers. Word of mouth is amazing, but I need to put some admin work in on my side and reviews really work. So that’s on the pile too. Along with a proper Overworld map, which I may or may not attempt to put in the books at some point.

So, as always, I have many, many plans and am busy working away in the background. Hopefully it will result in something shiny in the end. I think that’s a pretty good goal to work towards.

Merry Monday, everyone. I hope your January is going well, wheresoever in the world you may be!

Overworld, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 9

January 2, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 ||

Oh, Mastekh…

9
Elder Blazeborn

MASTEKH CLEANED UP the spillage, feeling like a fool. All his happy feelings from the morning had fled in the face of an innocuous question and a dropped teapot. He patted the last pool of water and stared at his hot hand with a sigh.

Wonderful, he was now full of tea. It would take days for the ruddy-ginger stain to fade.

Served him right for being a jumpy, clumsy, overreacting fool. How Elder Blazeborn must rue the day their paths had not just crossed but unfortunately interwoven.

Picking up the pot and swilling the liquid inside, he realised there was just enough for another cup, so he poured it out and placed it on the hearth to keep warm while he got on his knees and made sure he hadn’t ruined another carpet. His very first meeting with Elder Blazeborn was engraved on his memory, never to be forgotten.

His trip to Teirenlai had been Mastekh’s first solo expedition outside of his Rainstorm kinlands. Well, sort of solo, since he’d flown alongside Rishen, his kin elder, but all of Mastekh’s previous trips had been with dragons his own age with older caretakers to watch over them. For all that Rishen was his elder, the dragon hadn’t spared Mastekh much attention during the flight. Which was how Mastekh had preferred it. Rishen made him nervous. Most dragons made him nervous. Most everything, actually.

Carpet checked, Mastekh sat back on heels and paused for a moment, trying to come up with something that didn’t make him anxious or nervous. He would have said Estenarven, except the recent shift in their relationship had caused a few of those old, familiar emotions to bubble up, so not even he counted anymore. Baking and making tea also felt good, but handing them over to their intended recipients usually caused anxious moments – or foolish ones, he reminded himself, climbing to his feet and sighing at the empty desk and the now-seemingly innocent crockery lined up on the tray.

Arriving at Teirenlai Palace had been overwhelming for Mastekh. Too many new faces, a whole new layout to learn, new servants to try not to annoy. He would have hidden in his room and never come out, except he’d quickly found out that he was expected to share it with two other young dragons. Strangers. Ones who already knew each other and were noisy and constantly laughing. Not necessarily at him, though it had felt like it at the time.

Panicked, Mastekh had fled into the labyrinthine corridors until he ended up quite, quite lost. In the end he’d wandered into a sunlit garden where a great bronze dragon was curled up. Not wanting to disturb the sleeping creature, he’d backed as quietly as possible away only to trip over an uneven flagstone. Tumbling down with a splash and a cry, he’d felt a hot, weary sigh pass over him and looked up into glowing golden eyes.

At which point Elder Goryal Starshine had materialised between them, beaming a joyful smile. “Oh good,” they had chuckled. “You’ve met. Khennik, this is your new aide, Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. Congratulations, Mastekh, you’ve been assigned as the aide to Elder Blazeborn as part of the delegation overseeing the visit of the new human ambassador.”

The huge bronze Blazeborn had turned his head to the small human-shaped Starshine elder and huffed out a warm breath. “A Rainstorm, Goryal, really?”

Mastekh had cringed, though he hadn’t disagreed. The Flowflight and Sunlord Clans were not known for their compatibility.

Goryal had laughed and patted Elder Blazeborn’s cheek. “Patience, Khennik. Something you once had in droves. It would do you good to remembered such skills.”

Grumbling, the dragon had curled up again, wrapping his tail tightly around himself and using it to cover his eyes. “Aren’t the humans punishment enough?”

Goryal had laughed their silver bell laugh and rested a hand on Mastekh’s arm. “Ignore him, he’s always grumpy after a long flight. He’ll feel better once he’s soaked up some sun. Come along with me, young Rainstorm, and I’ll show you your new accommodations and introduce you to someone who can show you your new duties.”

And that had been that. Neither one of them had been given any choice, they’d simply been shoved together through the whims of a meddling old dragon. No one knew precisely how old Goryal was, but all the Starshine Clan were over a millennia, though they rarely acted it. They felt it though, with a prickle of power that could grow painful if the dragons forgot to rein it in. Goryal rarely forgot such things, they were too fond of company to risk driving it all away, even if they did frequently meddle more than was good for those around them.

Even so, Mastekh couldn’t be sorry that his path had crossed Goryal’s, nor that of Elder Blazeborn either. Because both had brought him, in a roundabout way, to Estenarven and the night before. Mastekh wouldn’t give that up for all the world, even if he had spent most of the evening hurt and confused. The end had been worth everything that had gone before.

It was still a shame about the tea, though.

Sighing, he picked up the cup from the hearth and crossed to Elder Blazeborn’s door. Where he dithered, not wanting to disturb the elder any more than he already had that morning. Yet he knew of no one else who liked ginger tea and didn’t want it to go to waste.

So he took a deep breath, tried to summon up a little of his morning happiness, and knocked.

“Enter.”

Clenching his free hand into a fist and warning himself to stay in control of himself, Mastekh slipped into the room. It was as spacious as the outer chamber, but with a lot less furniture. A wide bed stood off to one side, while a small desk had been placed beside the fire. Beyond that there was nothing except for three tall, narrow windows much like the ones in the other room. The rest of the space had been left empty as a courtesy to allow the elder to transform into his dragon shape if he so wished.

Thankfully for Mastekh’s nerves, he was still in human form, sitting at the desk, one hand propping up his head while he toyed with his quill and flicked ink over an otherwise empty piece of parchment.

Golden eyes glanced up and the elder froze. He said nothing, didn’t even blink as Mastekh crossed the room in a shuffling hurry, placing the stone cup down with exquisite care on one side of the desk. He then picked up the empty cup Elder Blazeborn had carried in earlier before retreating as swiftly as he’d entered. His silken robe flapped against his legs in his haste to reach the door.

Even so, as he pulled it opened and slipped through, he heard a softly murmured “Thank you,” over the rush of his own escape.

Mastekh paused and looked through the gap of the half-closed door. Elder Blazeborn held the cup cradled between his hands, golden claws glinting at the end of dark bronze fingers. The elder raised his tea in silent acknowledgement.

Ducking his head shyly, Mastekh muttered, “You’re w-w-welcome,” before shutting the door between them.

Taking several wobbly steps into the empty outer room, he collapsed onto the nearest chaise. He felt exhausted and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

Still, he smiled, content that he might have managed to fix any fresh damage he’d done to his working relationship with his elder after another foolish mishap. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

Feeling refreshed, he popped to his feet and gathered the empty pot and unused cups onto the stone tray. Noon was approaching and neither the elder nor Estenarven had eaten anything today.

Mastekh could and would do something about that.

Happy to feel useful once more, he hurried out of the suite towards the kitchens for the second time that morning, a fresh hum rising in his throat. Perhaps the day would be salvageable, after all.

I’ve now come to the end of what I had written.
Hopefully I’ll have a chance to write some more in the next week or so, before I update next Wednesday. This story needs more Esten.
See you then.

Happy New Year, my lovelies!

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 8

December 26, 2016 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 ||

In which Khennik says something innocuous and the expected happens.

8
Tea

SOMEONE WAS HUMMING. Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord frowned down at his desk and the report he was supposed to be writing to his Clan elder. The suite was too quiet, magnifying the clatter of hailstones against the windows and the shudder of the window as it whistled around the tower. Lightning flickered and thunder snarled. Khennik attempted to ignore it all as he hunched over his desk beside the fire on the opposite side of the room. Usually the crackle, pop and hiss of the flames would be enough to settle him, but it was early and he was tired after a late night.

And now someone was humming.

Sighing, he dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes as the main door to the suite opened, admitting the hummer with his tray of tea.

Mastekh.

Khennik’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he rested his chin on his hand, watching his usually anxious aide back into the room before turning and closing the door with his heel. Humming.

Mastekh didn’t hum. In fact, his Rainstorm aide rarely made any sound at all, except for squeaks and the occasional stuttered sentence. Not that he was a quiet or restful presence. Mastekh might not have used his voice all that often, but his emotions were often loud. Trembling, shuffling, jittering, wringing his hands, lurking in the background, trying to be unobtrusive and always failing. It had driven Khennik distracted when they’d first been assigned to each other. However, he’d grown used to it over time and occasionally missed Mastekh when he wasn’t in the room.

Khennik wouldn’t have said he was fond of humming, especially wordless tunes that bubbled and rambled without any form or reason, but it was an interesting change. He was almost certain he knew what had put that small smile on his younger aide’s face too.

“Oh. Elder B-Blazeborn. You’re aw-w-wake.”

The happy hum faded, but Khennik was surprised to see the smile remained. Mastekh didn’t smile at him, he was usually too worried or anxious to please, holding himself tense as if always ready for a reprimand or a blow. Khennik tried not to ever give the former and he would never use the latter. The mere prospect of being mistaken for such a thuggish bully had made him often moody and equally tense at first, until he realised that the only way Mastekh would relax was if he relaxed first. So mostly Khennik attempted to ignore his aide, and Mastekh seemed happiest that way.

Not this morning. This morning he seemed prepared for conversation, so Khennik cleared a space on his desk for the tea tray and nodded congenially. “Good morning. I trust you slept well.”

Mastekh bobbed his head in agreement, placing the tray on the table with a lot less clatter and rattling than usual. There weren’t any stray water drops either. Progress.

“Estenarven is still in bed, I take it?” Khennik asked as Mastekh began pouring the tea.

“B-beg p-p-pardon?” Mastekh jumped, sending hot water all over the stone tray and across the desk. “Oh, no!” he wailed, dropping the tea pot with a clatter and flapping over the spilled liquid.

Sighing, Khennik rescued his most important papers and stood before the tea reached the edge of the table and dripped into his lap. “It’s all right, Mastekh. No harm done.” After all, this wouldn’t be the first time Mastekh had almost dumped a pot of tea all over him – nor the second. A part of Khennik had leant to be perpetually wary whenever it came to his aide holding anything in his vicinity, though he had hoped the humming and smiles would herald a new era in their working relationship.

No such luck. One offhand question and his aide had collapsed back into a bubbling, anxious, apologetic mess and Khennik could feel all his old irritations rising. He tried not to get angry, because he knew Mastekh couldn’t help being the way he was, but it was frustrating.

One tiny tiptoe forward, a massive leap back. That was how things seemed destined to always be between them.

“I’ll finish this in my room,” he said, unable to hold back a sigh as he gathered the rest of things into his arms and shook tea from the end of his quill pen.

“I’m s-s-so s-s-s-sorry, eld-d-der,” Mastekh whimpered, patting the desk with his palm and leaving dry stone behind. His hand had darkened to the shade of ginger tea.

The sight reminded Khennik of how thirsty he was, so he piled his things on his dry chair and quickly poured himself a cup with what little liquid was left. Mm, spicy. “It’s all right, Mastekh,” he murmured again, retrieving his things and sipping from his cup. “These things happen, and there was no harm done.”

Mastekh hung his head pitifully. Khennik considered reaching out and patting the young Rainstorm’s shoulder, but he wasn’t a particularly tactile dragon and the last thing he wanted was to make Mastekh recoil. There relationship was shaky enough as it was.

So he contented himself with another sigh – mostly filled with bafflement over what his young aide needed from him – then retreated back into his room. It would probably be safer for all involved if he just stayed there until the Storm Season passed and the Skylark sailed onwards again.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me,” he said over his shoulder, then shoved the door shut with his heel.

What a day, and it wasn’t even midmorning yet.

More next Monday.

Take care, my lovelies!

Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 7

December 19, 2016 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||

In which Mastekh is happy.

Unsurprisingly, this is a very short update.

7
Humming

MASTEKH WOKE IN a very good mood, having slept extremely well the night before. He hadn’t expected to. After his time with Estenarven and the kisses they had shared, he’d expected to spend the whole night awake, reliving the sensations and agonising over what it all meant.

Instead he’d slept peacefully – and woke with a smile. Estenarven had been right, everything did look better in the morning. Apart from the weather, of course, but that was to be expected when spending the Storm Season in the Tempestfury kinlands.

Rising early, Mastekh slipped away from Elder Blazeborn’s suite and headed for the kitchens. Time for tea. The elder did enjoy a refreshing cup in the morning and, as Estenarven often joked, Mastekh was good at tea. There were times when he felt it was probably the only thing he was good at, the only truly helpful thing he did for the elder, but not today. Today was not a day for doubts. Today was a day for… humming.

He’d never thought of himself as particularly musical before, but for some reason this morning music kept bubbling up inside him. A rippling little melody like a mountain spring bursting up through rock and ice after the winter thaw.

That was what he felt like – lively, vibrant and new, refreshed after a long period of cold and dark. So he hummed, exchanging shy smiles with the busy dracos who worked around him while he waited for the elder’s water to boil. Normally he felt useless, gawky and in the way of the smaller servants and their industrious work. Today they welcomed him into their pattern, murmuring appreciatively over his little song. They even thanked him when he had finished preparing the tea and headed for the door. As if any draco ever had a single thing to thank a dragon for. The servants always worked so hard – surely any gratitude went the other way.

So he made sure to thank them, in shy, stammering words, then picked up his tray and headed back to the suite. Humming all the way.

More next Monday, when we’ll be seeing things through a completely different dragon’s eyes.

Take care, my lovelies!
And may you enjoy this season in whichever way seems best to you.

Free Fiction, Serial, Updates

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 6

December 17, 2016 Becca Lusher

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warning: This update contains a flirtatious and inebriated Boulderforce.

It would appear this is a kissing book. You have been warned ;)

6
Banquet III

ESTENARVEN WAS DRUNK. Oh, he’d known he was been a bit merry when he was sitting with Anhardyne and Vish, basking in the attention and drinking far more wine than was probably wise. It had been right there, though, and it was a very good vintage. And he’d felt Mastekh’s eyes on him, so he may have been showing off a little.

But still, he’d kept his head. Mostly. Enough to enjoy himself while he waited for the gluttonous drake to finally finish stuffing his face and leave the seat beside Mastekh empty. It had taken longer than Estenarven had anticipated – hence the wine.

Still, he’d been fine until after he’d bid the lieutenants and fine and adventurous night and made his way around the long table. He’d been completely in control of himself when he pulled out the chair and dropped into the space.

Then he’d put a hand on Mastekh’s leg to gain his attention… and completely lost his head.

Mastekh was cool and sweet and smelled like grass after rain. The shivers, the closeness, the sounds he made.

Yes, Estenarven was drunk, utterly and completely soused, foxed, pissed, rat-arsed, tap-shackled, scale-shucked, loose-winged and every other description on the Overworld. But it had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with his companion.

And Mastekh had absolutely no idea, if the way he was blushing was any indication. His poor dear Puddle was utterly green in the face, a darker colour spreading down his neck.

Estenarven stared at where the colour vanished beneath the collar of his robe and couldn’t help wondering how far down it went. Was his chest pale or dark, mottled or clear, was he muscled or slender, where were his scales? Every dragon had them, regardless of form, but they never showed up in the same place. Estenarven had two patches, one small smudge on his left buttock, the other a slender line that spiralled up his right thigh. Where were Mastekh’s? Somewhere naughty, he hoped, since such scale patches were often sensitive. As sensitive as the webs between his fingers? Estenarven certainly hoped so. He couldn’t wait to explore, to uncover his Puddle’s every last secret, to –

“Est-t-tenarv-v-ven?” Mastekh’s shaky breath was accompanied by a sharp, insistent tug.

Estenarven paused and looked down. By the Family, he really was drunk. He’d been licking Mastekh’s hand again, focusing all of his attention on those same webs, eyes closed, lost to the exploration.

Poor Mastekh’s face wasn’t just green now, it was practically black he was blushing so hard.

Estenarven reluctantly released his hand. “Sorry.”

Mastekh’s mouth moved but no sound came out. Poor Puddle, he’d shocked him speechless. All because he was drunk on the nearness of him and had forgotten himself, again. They were in a crowded room, and even though no one was paying them any attention – nor would be shocked even if they were – Mastekh was not an exhibitionist. He had to stop forgetting that, forgetting himself, forgetting where they were. It might not bother him, but it would bother Mastekh and that was not something he should ever forget.

“Forgive me.” He pressed a hand to his heart and bowed his head in remorse.

A cool hand slid over his cheek and he looked up, into green eyes almost swallowed by dark, wide pupils. “D-don’t,” Mastekh whispered, rubbing a thumb over Estenarven’s cheek.

He closed his eyes and leant into the touch, thinking of all the things he could do if that hand moved closer to his mouth. All the things he wanted to do, to start, to explore.

Huffing in frustration at himself, he opened his eyes and forced himself to pull away from the temptation of Mastekh’s hands. He’d never been particularly interested in hands before, not on their own, but with Mastekh everything was different.

He couldn’t resist taking hold of Mastekh’s hand again, but forced himself not to bring it back to his mouth or to stroke it. He just held it pressed between both of his and tried to think sweet, pure, innocent thoughts.

Which was tricky in a room that had grown as loud and as rowdy as this one.

Estenarven frowned, rapidly losing his happy, wine-induced haze and passing into an grumpy, irritated aftermath. “Let’s go,” he urged, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet.

Mastekh’s eyes widened, but he didn’t object when Estenarven hauled him upright.

“We can talk in the morning. Everything will be better then,” he said, weaving through the raucous crowd and making for the nearest door.

“You w-w-won’t,” Mastekh replied, cringing against Estenarven’s side as a drunken party of dragons and Riders attempted to drag him into their dancing circle.

“Won’t what?” Estenarven asked distractedly as he stepped over a passed out Rider still clutching a flagon of ale to his chest. He turned and lifted Mastekh up and over the man without thinking.

Wide eyes stared down in surprise. Estenarven blinked up, clasping Mastekh against his chest and barely noticing the weight of him. He was a Boulderforce, after all. Liking the feeling of keeping his Puddle so close, Estenarven strode the last few steps until they were out of the hall and in the much quieter corridor beyond.

Then he had to put him down, because the temptation to pin him to the nearest wall was just too great.

Mastekh kept his hands pressed against his chest, eyes still wide, barely blinking.

Smiling, Estenarven rubbed his knuckles down the Rainstorm’s cheek and pressed his thumb beneath his jaw to close his gaping mouth. It was simply too tempting left open. “Won’t what?” he repeated, remembering the question he’d asked before.

Mastekh snatched his hands away and folded his arms across his chest, rubbing at his shoulders, face flushed green once more. He shivered and offered up a tremulous smile. “You w-won’t feel b-b-better in the m-morning.”

Estenarven blinked in surprise – then burst out laughing.

Mastekh folded his arms defensively, huffing with indignation. “Well, you w-won’t. After all the w-wine you’ve dr-drunk, you’ll have a t-t-terrible h-headache. And d-don’t come c-c-crying to m-me.”

It was one of the longest sentences Estenarven had ever heard the Rainstorm mutter, and it made him laugh even harder. “Oh, Puddle,” he sighed, draping an arm across the smaller dragon’s shoulders before he could storm off in a huff. “We really have to work on your seductive invitations.”

Which earned him a slap on the chest. “It w-w-wasn’t an inv-v-vitation you l-lout. As if I’d inv-v-vite you anywh-where.”

“A dragon can dream,” Estenarven sighed soulfully, slightly embarrassed to realise his wistfulness wasn’t entirely feigned.

“F-fool.”

“Yes,” he agreed cheerfully. “Entirely. I’m a complete fool for you.” He pressed his lips against Mastekh’s cool cheek, delighted to feel it heat beneath his lips. “And now to bed, before I ravish you right here. I know you’re not one for exhibitions.”

This time the soulful sigh came from his companion. “A d-dragon can d-d-dream.”

Estenarven could only hope his wistfulness wasn’t entirely feigned either. “Don’t tempt me, Puddle. You might not like the outcome.”

“I’ll s-s-save it for wh-when you’re n-not d-drunk, P-pebble. You m-might dr-drop me.”

“Oh, really?” Estenarven roared with mock indignation, spinning Mastekh around. Catching the Rainstorm by complete surprise, he upended him over his shoulder and started running towards Elder Blazeborn’s suite.

“P-p-p-put me d-down, you f-f-fool!”

Laughing, Estenarven ignored the kicking legs and fists thumping his back, knowing full well that if Mastekh really wanted to escape all he had to do was shift and flatten him. “I heard a challenge, Puddle, and a good dragon never turns down a challenge.”

“You’re d-d-drunk!”

Yes, utterly. Completely drunk on Mastekh and the light, silly, foolish feelings he stirred up inside. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was a fool for Mastekh. He would be anything for this Rainstorm, he only needed to ask.

As Estenarven jogged up staircase after staircase, Mastekh’s struggles slowed and stopped, the fists that had been thumping his back having turned to smoothing caresses over the dark silk. By the time Estenarven reached their suite, his breath was heaving, his legs were shaking and he felt rather light-headed, but his back tingled all over from the teasing touches.

Unlocking the door, he staggered inside and carefully lowered his burden.

When he straightened, Mastekh grabbed hold of his head before he reached his full height. Green eyes glowing with determination, the Rainstorm pulled Estenarven down and kissed him.

At first it was clumsy, a hard push that mashed their lips against their teeth. Mastekh clenched his hands around the back of Estenarven’s neck as if afraid he would try and escape.

Estenarven wasn’t going anywhere. Reaching back, he gripped Mastekh’s wrists and rubbed the insides with his thumbs, urging the Rainstorm to relax. Then he slid his fingers over the back of Mastekh’s hands to slip between his fingers and stroke the sensitive webs.

Mastekh gasped, firm grip relaxing.

Estenarven took full advantage, pulling back to take a breath and gain some room, then darting in to slip his tongue into play.

Ah, such play. Mastekh melted against his chest and Estenarven turned their kiss into a lazy, thorough exploration that left them both panting and shaking, holding tight to shoulders and waist in an effort to keep standing.

And they were both still fully dressed.

Estenarven had never felt like this with anyone before – certainly not without naked skin and a solid, supporting surface involved.

It was too much.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

And Mastekh wasn’t ready for more.

Estenarven eased the kiss until he could pull away, cupping Mastekh’s face in his hands. Wide eyes, more black now than green, gazed up at him, kiss-swollen lips trembling with uncertainty, anxiety already draining the passion from his face.

No, there would go no further tonight.

But he stole another kiss anyway, a sweet, delicious sip, before pulling away with a sigh.

“Goodnight, Puddle,” he murmured, resting his head against Mastekh’s.

“G-g-good-n-night, P-pebble,” came his reply.

Then they parted for their tiny, solitary rooms on opposite sides of Elder Blazeborn’s suite.

Turns out Mastekh was right: Estenarven was not going to feel better in the morning. He certainly wasn’t about to sleep any time soon.

But it had been worth every single moment.

And he would willingly do it all again on the morrow.

Next update will be on Monday. Complete with merry Mastekh.

Take care, my lovelies!

Serial, Updates

A Few Brief Changes

December 14, 2016December 14, 2016 Becca Lusher

Sorry to anyone looking for A Courtship of Dragons today. I’m having a sad, heart sore week and haven’t had a chance to edit the next part for you yet. As such I’ll be posting it on Saturday 17th.

Also, from next week, I’ll be moving Courtship updates to Mondays until after the New Year. This is because Christmas and New Year fall on a Sunday, so I’ll be moving Rift Riders updates to Wednesdays and Fridays from the 21st on. Once we’re into January everything will revert to normal.

Take care, my lovelies.