Chapter 11 - Riders' Knots
Spring, 36th Turn of the Present Pass
The final phase of their training was to fly formations with the wings. They didn't fly Thread, but they did the training flights and the pre-thread formations, rotating through all twelve wings. As F'neldril told them, it was practice for their dragons to get used to flying with different groups and to take orders from any leader, not just the familiar weyrlingmaster.
By this stage, F'neldril had already identified the dragons and/or riders who weren't ready to progress. The very youngest, like H'rellan, had been held back the year before; now it was time for the more clumsy or immature to be held back, for their own safety. B'lee suspected that B'ret was one from the dejected way the boy came into the dining hall one evening. It wasn't the boy's fault - he was a bright, intelligent youth - but Mallorth simply couldn't control his flame projection, even after months of practice. Even if F'neldril had allowed him to progress, B'lee didn't think there was a wingleader who'd accept him yet.
He found himself discussing it with D'min that night.
"I think you're right," said D'min, face down on the bed, his feet kicking patterns in the air. "B'ret's OK, but Mallorth just needs a bit more time." He sighed. "Bronzes do, sometimes."
"Well, there's a lot of dragon to coordinate."
"True. Another disadvantage of size. Aurieth, now, has always been well-coordinated."
B'lee had to agree with that - from the very first day Aurieth had been dainty and graceful, never falling on her face or landing on her tail. "And Margroth?" he asked, teasingly.
"Margroth isn't bad either, for a blue," added D'min in a rather condescending tone, and laughed when B'lee threw a pillow at him.
"He's the best blue ever!"
"Ow! I never said he wasn't!"
"Good. He is the perfect dragon, and you'd better not forget it."
"Perfect blue dragon."
"At least he has the advantage of not turning proddy at a moment's notice."
"Hey!" D'min threw the pillow back at B'lee. "It was her first time!"
"There'll be others."
"Well, of course there will. And this time I'll know how to deal with them."
B'lee laughed. "With all your experience, I have no doubt about that."
* * *
Five days after the Hatching of Ilith's clutch, all the remaining dragons in B'lee's class were posted to the fighting wings. The class assembled in the Council Room after the noonday meal, where F'neldril was waiting with L'mal, the Fort Weyrleader, and all the wingleaders. Everyone looked happy, which B'lee took as a good omen.
L'mal held up a scroll. "So, lads, you've come to the end of two Turns of intensive training. You've done very well, and we're all very proud of you. I have had excellent reports from the weyrlingmaster, and I believe that you are all ready to join the wings."
He paused, and became more serious. "I know that the loss of Lath and S'gan was a blow, and it is a great sadness that they are not with us now. However, we're all riders here, and many of us are lost to Thread. It doesn't stop us fighting!" His expression was fierce, and B'lee wondered how many of his own friends had been lost to Thread over the years.
"Now, I imagine that some of you will be pleased with today's postings, and some won't. I stress that there is no difference in the wings - they are all essential to the Weyr, and are equal in my eyes. I will tolerate no fighting or unseemly rivalry between my Wings, and anyone who thinks that I'm joking will soon find out otherwise. Thread is our enemy, and it's the only enemy that counts during a Pass."
He started to read out the postings for 1 Wing, and there were triumphant smiles as each dragon was placed. B'lee crossed his fingers surreptitiously. He didn't really mind which wing he joined as long as he and D'min were posted together. In spite of L'mal's stern words, there was a certain amount of tension among the wings at the best of times, and he really didn't want to be treating D'min as a rival.
The postings weren't evenly spread, as some wings were more understrength than others, and the allocation of weyrlings was designed to remediate the gaps. B'lee knew that 4 and 5 Wings had the most vacancies at the moment, and therefore were the most likely places for a good strong blue like Margroth to be posted - but D'min's father, D'ran, was the wingsecond, and L'mal never placed father and son into the same wing. If B'lee were posted to 5 Wing, he definitely wouldn't be working with D'min. He bit his lip as the postings to 2 and 3 Wings were read, growing more and more anxious by the minute.
"4 wing: Gamenth and F'ril; Margroth and B'lee; Filth and J'loran ..." He paused, and B'lee's heart sank right down to the bottom of his boots. He turned to look at D'min, knowing that his face would be showing every bit of his anguish. "...and Aurieth and D'min."
B'lee felt so relieved that he was almost giddy. He gave a broad smile and embraced D'min warmly. From the way in which D'min's arms tightened around him, he guessed that D'min was also pleased and relieved that they would still be together.
He didn't hear the rest of the postings, but he wasn't worried - he'd catch up later, in the dining hall. For now he was just content to know that he and D'min would continue to be side by side as they had been since the moment B'lee had arrived at the Weyr two long Turns ago.
As soon as the last name had been read out, the newly-posted riders greeted their wingleaders and seconds. The leader of 4 wing was S'peren, (bronze Clioth), and the wingsecond was P'tan (bronze Zeth). B'lee and D'min knew them by sight, of course, but they hadn't spoken to them much before.
"Welcome to 4 Wing," said S'peren, with a smile. "In spite of what our beloved leader says, we are well aware that 4 Wing is the best in the Weyr, and woe betide anyone who says otherwise!" He chuckled to emphasise the semi-serious nature of his comment. "Now, we have Threadfall in two days, so tomorrow we'll take you up with the wing and make sure that you understand the way we fly, and get your dragons used to taking orders from Clioth. Make sure that your dragons eat well tomorrow as soon as practice is finished. You don't want them going pale from hunger in the middle of a fall, believe me! J'loran, D'min - as it's expected to be a short Fall, I'm going to start you both with the wing, but I want you to let me or P'tan know if Filth or Aurieth is getting tired. I mean that, lads," he added, sternly. "There's no shame in taking them out of the formation if they are tired, and I would much rather have you sitting out for half a Fall than sitting in the infirmary for a few sevendays because you got scored. Do you understand?"
"Yes, wingleader," they replied, in voices that were considerably more subdued than normal.
"F'ril, B'lee, the same goes for you. I don't anticipate that either of you will have problems, simply because it is a short Fall, but if you're getting tired, for Faranth's sake, let us know."
"Yes, wingleader," said B'lee, with F'ril echoing him.
"The Wing will leave for formation practice after breakfast tomorrow. Make sure you're ready on the rim with all your gear. If I have to wait for you I will not be pleased. Understood?"
"Yes, wingleader."
"Now, don't forget to collect your cords from the table before you leave. You'll be dining with the wing tonight, and I expect you to be wearing your new knots."
Before they left, B'lee nudged D'min to make sure that he spoke to his father. He noted, approvingly, that D'ran seemed to be very proud of D'min's posting to 4 Wing, first clapping him on the shoulder and then giving him a hug. "It's a good wing, that, and S'peren's a very promising wingleader. Do as you're told and you'll have no problems there."
"I'll do that. Thanks."
"Don't thank me, son. I didn't do anything. No one gets to be a dragonrider except on their own merits. You did this all yourself, and I'm proud of you."
D'min smiled so broadly that B'lee almost though he was going to split his face in two.
"And don't forget -"
"- to go and show my mother!" finished D'min with a grin. "I will, father. I'll go right now. Come on B'lee."
They picked up the lengths of cord they would need to make their new rider's knots and hurried out of the Council Room.
"Great! We'll still be doing things together!" exclaimed B'lee, as they hurried down the corridor.
D'min smiled back warmly. "Well, they couldn’t let you go on your own, could they? Have to make sure someone looks after you." He jumped back to avoid the punch that B'lee pretended to throw, and smirked. "Is that your best effort, O Great Blue Rider?"
B'lee laughed and pulled D'min into a headlock before releasing him. They bounced down the passage towards the stairs that led to the weaving room.
Tamina, as expected, was overjoyed to hear the news, and hugged them both. "I'm so proud of you, D'min!" she exclaimed. "I knew you'd make it through. And of you, too, B'lee. You're like a fosterling to me anyway."
B'lee smiled and gave her a warm hug back. "Thanks, Tamina."
"So, both of you in 4 Wing! Poor S'peren. Didn't anyone let him know what he was in for?"
D'min pretended to be insulted. "Honestly, anyone would think we were trouble!"
She laughed. "Aren't you?"
"Not in the least! We're just high-spirited," put in B'lee.
"Exactly. High-spirited," D'min nodded briskly.
"Well, I think you should take your high spirits and get those cords done if you want to wear them to dinner."
"I don't suppose ..." D'min started, but Tamina shook her head.
"Riders' knots are made by riders."
"I knew you wouldn't," he sighed.
"Go one, both of you. And don't forget I'm here, now that you're in the Wing. I know you'll be busy, but Thread doesn't fall every day."
"I won't forget," said D'min.
"I won't let him forget," said B'lee, smiling, and gave her another hug before they left the room. He turned towards the back stairs, but D'min headed the other way. "Dragons or stairs?" he asked.
"We're dragonriders, my friend, we're going up in style," said D'min, and B'lee gathered that he'd already called Aurieth down. He put in his own request for Margroth, and soon the two dragons were descending into the bowl, landing as close to the young men as they could.
B'lee and D'min scrambled onto the dragons' necks as fast as they could, and held on tightly as they rose into the air. There wasn't much risk really - they could trust Aurieth and Margroth not to bank too steeply when neither of them had riding straps on - but it was still exhilarating to fly up holding on only with knees and hands.
As soon as he had slid off Margroth's neck onto the ledge, he took his cords around to D'min's weyr, and they spent the next hour in making their rider's knots as neat and precise as they possibly could. B'lee's still ended up the better of the two, but D'min's was very close. With some pride, they took it in turns to take off the weyrling's knot and attach the rider's knot to each other's tunic.
B'lee stood back and looked at his friend, who was positively glowing with happiness. "Congratulations, D'min," he said, softly. "You're a proper dragonrider now."
"So are you," said D'min, and slid his arms around B'lee's waist. "We're both dragonriders."
"We are." He leaned back a little to catch D'min's eye. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"
"No. Just a hug."
"That's all right." He relaxed a little and allowed D'min to hug him. He didn't mind hugs - they were warm and comforting. In fact, he was feeling so pleased with the world that he wouldn't really have minded if D'min had tried to kiss him.
* * *
The next morning they were up early and were waiting on the rim with the rest of 4 Wing in plenty of time to get ready for the practice flight.
It was a glorious day - sunshine and fresh breezes - and as B'lee looked down from his position at the rear of the wing, he thought that there could be no greater happiness than this. He caught D'min's eye and they shared a smile at the thought that they had finally made it to the Wing after so long in training.
They flew various formations - nothing they hadn't done before as weyrlings, but this time they were expected to bank and move between with much greater precision. They had to accept orders from the wingleader and his second, and their dragons had to recognise landmarks sent to them from Clioth and Zeth.
It was exhilarating stuff, and they were both tired but happy as they stripped the riding straps from Aurieth and Margroth that afternoon.
"Good work, lads," said S'peren. "Now, don't go celebrating too soon. We've Threadfall tomorrow, and I expect you to be up at the fireheights at second hour to stoke your dragons. I want you all to get a good night's sleep and be well-rested for tomorrow. It may be a short Fall, but the first one is always exhausting, and I don't want you making mistakes. Understand?"
"Yes, wingleader," they said in chorus, and hurried to clean themselves up before dinner.
The next day they were up early, and had their dragons fitted out and up on the fireheights chewing firestone in good time. S'peren gave them an encouraging nod, and they readied themselves for the start.
B'lee's mouth was dry, and he swallowed, hoping that he would feel better about it soon. He'd been training for this moment for two years, he reminded himself. He wouldn't be here if the Weyrlingmaster and the Weyrleader didn't think him up to it. They had confidence in him - he ought to have some in himself, and in Margroth.
The wings took off in order, each hovering over the Weyr and then blinking out of sight. Margroth took the order from Clioth, and rose with the rest of 4 Wing. B'lee looked over to where Aurieth and D'min were soaring into the sky, and hoped that all would go well for them. Aurieth was valiant and quick, but she tired much more easily than Margroth, and he couldn't help worrying that she would exhaust herself trying to show she could fight as long as the larger dragons.
Keep an eye on her if you can, he asked Margroth. I don't want her to take any unnecessary risks.
You worry too much. She is more sensible than her rider.
B'lee laughed in agreement, and suddenly felt much better ... though he was glad that D'min hadn't heard, since he knew only too well Margroth's normal opinion of Aurieth.
They emerged from between some way south of the Weyr. They could already see the cloudy leading edge to the north-east, and Clioth relayed last-minute orders as they got themselves ready.
That first Threadfall was one of the most frightening experiences B'lee had ever had, and for years afterwards it remained the standard by which he judged any other. They tried to stay ahead of the leading edge, but too often it crept up over them and they had to jump backwards. The dragons, with their bulbous composite eyes, had almost a spherical visual field, but were still liable to miss anything coming from directly overhead, and his neck ached from checking the sky above and behind them for any danger.
Fighting Thread was like an intricate dance, in some ways. The bronzes and brown flamed the highest, trying to char as much of the falling Thread as they could. Blues like Margroth filled in the gaps, while the greens caught the Threads that slipped through the higher levels. They flew and banked and weaved in and out of the deadly rain with skill and grace, and the grounds beneath them were kept safe from harm.
Even though it was a short Fall, B'lee found it exhausting. Never before had he had to concentrate so hard for so long without any breaks. As the trailing edge crossed the western coast of the peninsula and Clioth gave the all-clear, he felt Margroth sag.
You're tired too, he said, concerned.
I will be better after resting.
We all will.
S'peren had Clioth interrogate the new dragons, and promptly sent the youngsters back to the Weyr, telling them to get some food and then rest.
Aurieth and Margroth glided down to dispose of the firestone ash and then hauled themselves up to the weyrs. B'lee and D'min stripped off the riding straps and left them to sleep, while they went in search of some food. They were astonished to find out that it was still early afternoon, only just after lunch, in fact. B'lee felt as if he'd worked more than a full day already, and D'min was pale where his face wasn't streaked with dust and soot.
Seglinder, the head cook, came out to see what all the commotion was about, but his ill-temper dissipated on seeing the exhausted young riders. He stomped back to his kitchen and sent out a couple of drudges with bowls of stew and loaves of fresh bread, and a large jug of hot klah.
Once they'd fed, the world started to right itself. B'lee didn't feel quite so drained, and he and D'min were able to manage the stairs back up to their weyrs. He didn't protest when D'min followed him into his own weyr, nor when D'min flopped down on the bed beside him.
"You'd better not be planning anything," he muttered.
"Only sleep," mumbled D'min as he snuggled up to B'lee's warmth. "But if you don't throw me out of bed I'll give you a backrub later."
"Fine," he said, as he fell asleep, his arm somehow winding around D'min's shoulders. A backrub sounded very tempting.
* * *
Over the next few sevendays B'lee caught himself watching the blue and green riders at mealtimes, in planning sessions, in caring for their dragons. It seemed that no matter what they did, there was teasing and flirting and laughter and occasionally a tantrum or two, but overall a close camaraderie that B'lee couldn't see in the bronze and brown riders. Even those blue riders he knew to be hetero weren't averse to a bit of teasing now and again. Green riders were openly affectionate, and weren't shy about kissing or fondling their current lovers in full view of the Wings. Everyone was a lot more relaxed when there were no goldriders or weyrlings present, and much of the normal conversation was rife with innuendo. Sexuality was simply a normal part of life, and the riders saw no reason to be prudish in the confines of their own Weyr.
B'lee was astonished, though he told himself he shouldn't be. How could he have lived in the Weyr for two years and not have seen it so clearly?
Why was he seeing it now?
He shook his head. It even affected the way he looked at D'min. Previously he had never really worried about seeing D'min with his lovers, but now, as he was looking at D'min leaning back against G'lin (a blue rider from 9 wing, several inches taller than D'min and darkly handsome) he felt a distinct sense of annoyance. It really wasn't fair that D'min should have no difficulty in attracting lovers, when B'lee couldn't find a girl for himself. And it was definitely not fair for D'min to be teasing and caressing his new lover in front of everyone like that. It made him feel very uncomfortable.
* * *
One of the things that B'lee liked the most about being a fully-fledged rider was that he was able to sit in the hall in the evenings after dinner and join in the singing and playing. There were a few players in the Weyr, but not many, so the arrival of a rider who could play all the instruments and who had a clear sweet tenor voice besides was most welcome.
Although at the Harperhall he had never walked the tables and remained technically an apprentice, he had completed all the projects and assignments necessary for advancement, and he had Master Tirone's own word for it that he would have been selected for journeyman at the following solstice had he remained in the Harperhall. He could play the pipes, drum and harp, but his preferred instrument was the gitar, and he knew not only all the popular tunes and ballads, but (now that he could practise to his heart's content) also some of the more complex works for solo gitar or consorts. Since Willan preferred the harp, this led to several duets between them, to the delight of their audience.
D'min was visibly astonished the first time he heard B'lee play with Willan. B'lee had never played much for the weyrlings while they were in barracks, only the occasional duty ballad or dance tune, and he'd taken care to practise his part when D'min was safely elsewhere, so the contrapuntal piece they played was a revelation. B'lee took secret delight in having surprised his friend, and felt a warmth go through him at the look of admiration in D'min's eyes.
It was almost disappointing when D'min left with G'lin instead of walking up to the weyrs with him.
* * *
The day after the summer solstice, the weyrling class behind them (from Holth's clutch the Turn before), moved into weyrs. B'lee and D'min found that they had two new neighbours, both green riders: J'gonal and H'tan. They were good-looking boys, and seemed very much in awe of their elders.
"Which is as it should be," said D'min with a superior air when B'lee mentioned it. "We are, after all, their betters in every way."
"Except in modesty, of course," teased B'lee.
"Pah! It's over-rated."
B'lee laughed.
It was odd to watch the weyrlings and to realise that they had been at the same stage of training only a Turn ago. The boys seemed so young, so unaware of the menace all around them. When B'lee tried to explain it to D'min he got all tangled up in his words.
D'min, as usual, cut to the heart of the matter. "They haven't lost a classmate yet," he said, bluntly. "We were the same, before S'gan died." His face darkened with the shadows of grief, grief that they still felt nearly half a Turn after their friend's death during Threadfall.
D'min hugged B'lee tightly, burying his head in the hollow between shoulder and neck. "Don't you ever die on me, B'lee," he muttered, fiercely. "I couldn't go on. I just couldn't."
"I'm not going anywhere," B'lee affirmed. He held onto D'min, letting himself enjoy the embrace. He hoped that nothing would happen to D'min either - life just wouldn't be the same without his jokes and smiles and absurdities.
* * *
B'lee continued to have vivid dreams. He was still having difficulty in seeing the face of his dream lover, but he knew something now that he hadn't before: it was a man.
This fact had troubled him initially, but somehow the intervening weeks of training and integrating with the wings had made him see things a little differently. He shook his head in amazement when he thought back to the way he had reacted when D'min had told him about green and blue riders, back in the first months after Impression. Now, he could see no difference between taking a man to bed and taking a woman - it was simply whoever you were in love with at the time.
Did that mean that he was in love with a man? He didn't think so. Could he be in love and not know it?
"Hey, D'min," he said one night, hoping to raise the subject in a vague, non-threatening way, "when did you realise that you liked boys more than girls?"
D'min looked up from his loom. "Odd question for this time of day, B'lee."
B'lee shrugged, as if it weren't important at all. "Just curious."
D'min thought about it for a minute, but ended up shaking his head. "Can't say as there was ever a time I liked girls more than boys, so I'm not sure I can answer the question.'
"Oh."
"S'been, now, he told me he never even thought about boys until he impressed. He was Hold-bred. They're often late converts."
"Who was the latest?"
"What do you mean?"
"How old could a rider be and suddenly notice that they'd started liking boys?"
D'min blinked, and B'lee wondered if he was working out entirely too much, too fast, so he added, "Purely on hypothetical grounds, of course. Unless you know of an example."
"I don't know, exactly," D'min answered, slowly - almost suspiciously. "I guess it would depend on their upbringing and how easily they were able to adapt to life in the Weyr."
"How would it start?"
"What?" D'min looked at him like he was going crazy, and B'lee couldn't really blame him. Maybe he ought to talk to S'been instead.
"Never mind. It's not important."
D'min's expression didn't get any less incredulous, and B'lee started to panic.
"Really, D'min. It was just an idle thought. Just forget it."
D'min nodded slowly, but B'lee had the feeling that he'd better watch his step for a few days.
And he still hadn't even mentioned the dreams.
* * *
A couple of days later, he tried to talk to S'been. It was actually quite difficult to catch the blue rider without anyone else around - he was a very popular man - but he finally managed to corner him near the storerooms, where S'been had been cajoling Marta into giving some more wher-hide pants. He took the opportunity to ask him for some advice, but he must have been particularly clumsy about it, because S'been took it as an invitation and tried to grope him. That took a bit of wriggling and squirming to get out of, and B'lee was left red-faced and fumbling at his clothing when the Weyrwoman walked by. Her understanding smile didn't help one little bit, and he made his escape without getting the information he had sought.
He continued to have intense but disturbing dreams two or three times every sevenday. The man - he knew that it was always the same man - remained anonymous, but other details were vivid and clear. It was profoundly embarrassing to recall some of the things his dream-lover did to him, and some of the things he did in return. Since all the riders, and green riders in particular, were fond of describing their encounters in lurid detail, he wasn't completely ignorant of what went on between men, and his mind supplied what his body didn't know, making up an encounter of such immediacy and clarity that the real life he woke up to in the mornings paled in comparison.
He couldn't talk to D'min about it - he'd realised that after the last attempt - and he had a suspicion that any other rider would probably react the way that S'been had. He had to try and find someone who was discreet, homosexual and knowledgeable about both Weyr-bred and Hold-bred customs.
Eventually he went to Healer Berchar, and asked if he could talk with him. He knew that Berchar also liked men, so made it perfectly clear that his affections were directed towards someone else as soon as he broached the subject.
"The problem is," he said, twisting his handkerchief around in his hands, "I've always thought of myself as hetero. Even when I impressed Margroth, and found out that a lot of blue riders like men, it didn't really worry me because I thought it wouldn't happen to me."
"It's not a disease or an injury, B'lee," said Berchar. "It doesn't 'happen' to anyone. It just is or isn't. The only thing that's changed is your point of view."
"I suppose so." He could feel Berchar looking at him, but kept his eyes on the floor.
"So what is it that's changed your point of view?"
"Aurieth's rising."
"Ah," said Berchar, steepling his fingers together in a way that reminded B'lee of Masterharper Tirone. "The inimitable D'min."
"Well, yes and no," said, B'lee, at once embarrassed and relieved that Berchar seemed to have grasped the point so quickly. "I've been having dreams about someone. Someone male. Umm ... intimate dreams."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Anything else?'
"Well, no. Not really."
"Do you have your eye fixed on anyone in particular?"
"I don't think so."
Berchar sighed. "Do you want to kiss any of the riders?"
"Umm ... No. No, I don't."
"Do you want to kiss any other man?"
"No. Definitely not."
"So you're worried that you're changing from hetero to homo solely on the basis of having impressed a blue dragon and having a few wet dreams?"
"Well ..." B'lee felt rather uncomfortable, but he couldn't really explain that what he was really worried about was the rightness of how it felt to be with his dream-lover, of how good and natural and loving it felt to be held by him, to be kissed by him. The thought of actually kissing any man he knew - even D'min - was still a bit nauseating, if he was honest. Surely that was what counted? If he didn't want to kiss a man, he couldn't be homo. "I suppose so," he said, eventually.
"Well, young B'lee, I think I can tell you quite honestly that it takes more than a wet dream or two to distinguish homo from hetero. Your problem is simply that you're not getting enough of anything, and so your mind is supplying ... umm, certain needs ... using whatever material it to hand. Since you're with riders morning, noon and night, it's only natural that they should pop up in your dreams."
Part of B'lee wanted desperately to accept what Berchar was saying - that the Healer was very experienced in looking after dragonriders and he was worrying over nothing. The other part thought that there was something seriously wrong with what Berchar was saying, and it didn't matter how much experience he had with other dragonriders, he didn't know B'lee at all. Unable to resolve this conflict, B'lee admitted to himself that he had no idea what he should do next, apart from getting out of there as quickly as possible.
Since he didn't wish to be rude, he simply nodded and thanked the healer for his advice, then left the infirmary and wandered back to the main caverns.
What now?
He'd had little in the way of useful advice from D'min, S'been or Berchar, and there weren't many other people he could approach. Briefly he thought about Tamina. She was the closest to a mother-figure he had in the Weyr, but he didn't suppose that she'd be able to understand male homosexuality in a way that was relevant to him. And he certainly wasn't going to approach his wingleader with a personal problem like this, no matter how caring S'peren was normally.
He'd just have to continue on his own, trying to make sense of the puzzle that was his life.
* * *
A few nights later, he woke once more, sweaty and sated, with a large wet stain on his sheets. He debated getting up and washing, but he was tired, and it was a warm night. He settled for pushing the sheets aside and lay awake, thinking back over the dream.
There had been the usual intense sexual activity, but this time there had been a difference. This time, he had to cope with the uncomfortable realisation that the man in his dreams - the one who brought him to climax after shuddering climax - now had a face. What was worse, was that he knew the face very well, having seen it almost every day for the past two Turns.
The man in his dreams was D'min.