Pillow Talk

Writers: Corrin, Devin
Date Posted: 23rd November 2025

Characters: M'sar, Q'helias
Description: After a round of sex, Mesarian shares some honesty with Qelhelias.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 10, day 18 of Turn 12
Notes: PG-17 to be safe. Follows "Bluster and Bravado"

Q'helias

Eventually, Mesarian managed to pull himself the rest of the way onto the bed and sprawled across the covers. Well, that had been worth it. He hadn't even argued much because it was clear Qelhelias's offer was limited. If Mesarian wanted to top, he had any number of people he could go to. But he was just too sharding curious about what the sharp-eyed harper was like in bed.

Fecking good was the answer to that question.

Mesarian cracked an eye and looked up at Qelhelias. "Sit."

He did indeed have to look up. Though still obviously catching his breath, Qelhelias had straightened where he stood by the edge of the bed and was staring down at Mesarian with the smug satisfaction of one who _knew_ he was fecking good and was enjoying the proof of it. "Maybe," he said, a faint half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

With a final once over of Mesarian's boneless sprawl, Qelhelias stepped away to the wash basin where he began to methodically clean himself. "So," he said, casual as could be-- as if they _hadn't_ been a writhing, grunting, beast-with-two-backs a moment ago. "What did you want to talk about?"

Mesarian took a breath. It was easier to talk with his body sated and his mind floating in warmth. And for some sharding reason, he wanted to prove to Qelhelias that he wasn't _boring_. "Out there, this was the only good thing I had. Sex, and once in a while good food, good drink, and a warm, soft bed. Couldn't think much beyond tomorrow or the next sevenday." He rolled onto his side. "I didn't plan for a future. I couldn't."

"How did it happen exactly? Your exile." From what had been said already, Qelhelias had a pretty good idea of what happened, or at least why it did, but he was curious what Mesarian would say and how he would say it.

Mesarian's expression darkened. He hated how much it still hurt. He should be _over_ it by now. "Got caught with another boy, and I refused to say it was his fault, or to promise I'd never do it again. So they threw me out." It had been a strange kind of relief to know the worst had already happened and the fear was no longer hanging over him.

For a moment, Qelhelias said nothing. The only sound in the room was the soft slosh of water as he wet a new washcloth. This one he tossed to Mesarian. He must have decided he was clean enough, and that Mesarian was interesting enough, for now, because he turned to face him. "How long were you out there?"

Mesarian frowned as he counted in his head. "'Bout seven Turns." He started wiping himself.

"That's a long time to be living rough," observed Qelhelias, leaning against the washstand. "Shame you didn't find a weyr back then. We aren't a charity, but we aren't heartless either. You wouldn't have been the first to come to the weyr with a story like that."

"I wish I'd come here sooner." All that time struggling to survive when he could have had _this_. "Been wondering, you know, what I might be like if I had." Mesarian looked down as he kept cleaning his body. "Living out there and being open about liking men, being _proud_ of it, I thought I was being myself, but . . . there were other parts of me I had to change."

"And what parts were those?" Again, Qelhelias fancied he could guess. A certain selfishness, a defensive belligerence, but he was curious what Mesarian would say, what he would reveal of the boy he was before.

"I had to be tough. Cold. I couldn't care about people beyond whoever I was bedding and even then . . ." Mesarian shrugged. He could be casually affectionate with his partners, but he knew it was temporary. After a night, or a sevenday, or at most a few months, he'd be gone. "Sometimes I think, who even am I? What's real and what did I make myself into?"

"You should give that some real thought," said Qelhelias seriously. "Because once you add a dragon in your head it's going to be thrice as hard to figure out. They will have another set of opinions as to what you are."

"How would I even figure that out?" Mesarian asked.

Qelhelias studied him for a long, measured moment.

“You start,” he said finally, “by deciding you actually want to know. Then take a good hard look at yourself, at your actions. Figure out what you actually want and value-- figure out what isn't just defensiveness and survival and spite. That'll help you towards who you are. And if you don't like what you're seeing... work on changing. Don't expect a dragon to fix it all for you. That's not fair to them."

"Didn't say I wanted a dragon to _fix_ me." Mesarian glared, then realized he was being defensive and sighed. "It's hard to let go of all that."

The unimpressed arch of Qelhelias' brow relaxed and his expression gentled to something more like real sympathy. "Yeah, I'm sure it is."

Mesarian studied him for a moment, trying to gather his courage. It was hard to be vulnerable. "I'm not lookin' for a boyfriend or anything but could we maybe . . . talk sometimes?"

Qelhelias actually smiled. It was nice to see the holdless youth was more than just lust and bluster. "Yeah, alright."

Last updated on the November 28th 2025

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