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Elle was crossing the weyrbowl when she was suddenly overwhelmed by virulent emotion, hunger and lust so intertwined, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. She reached out to Lonleth’s mind, seeking her bronze instinctively as a rock amidst the chaos, only to discovered that he was its source.
Stoniath rises! his mental voice screamed. She bloods her kill! I go!
“By the First Egg,” Elle muttered under her breath, dashing towards the feeding grounds. She knew Lonleth knew what to do, knew to mimic the golden queen and only blood the herdbeast not consume it. She’d witnessed this scene many times before over the Turns, each time a gold or green rose, and each time it was the same. She would join the other bronze riders, a part of them but apart, the only woman audacious enough to Impress bronze (for despite the fact that the dragons chose, the traditionalists seemed to take it as an intentional act of defiance on her part) in all of Fort Weyr’s long and storied history.
Lonleth had never emerged victorious in a flight. She knew that had nothing to do with the caliber of dragon, nothing to do with his skill in the firestone drills or his intelligence or heart. But she also know the elder coterie of bronze riders held it against her, used it as further proof that a woman should never ride a fighting bronze, and Elle was tired of it. It wasn’t like it was her fault in any way — she would willingly lie with the rider of any dragon her beloved partner chose, and she liked women just as well as she liked men — but that did not stop those determined to speak poorly of her for blaming that on her, too.
Stoniath, though… a junior queen but a strong one. She could easily become the next lead queen someday, and while Elle had never fancied herself overly ambitious, wouldn’t it just be a nice comeuppance for all those dimglows if someday they had to answer to her as Weyrleader?
And Stoniath’s rider was just as statuesque as her golden partner, taller than all the other women in the Weyr as well as half the men. She was muscular, wore her hair shaved clear off beneath her riding helmet, and had deep brown eyes only a shade darker than her luxuriant skin, skin that Elle had yearned to get her hands on more than once, if she was being honest.
And a mating flight was a fine time to be honest.
With a strident bugle, Stoniath took to the skies, the bronze dragons following with alacrity. This was their riders’ cue to head to the weyrwoman’s quarters, and they did so at a run, none wanting to risk being too late despite the flight having only just begun.
Elle was last to arrive, and she felt a surge of anger at the way the men ringed Fiona so intently. “Give her room to breathe!” she commanded, hoping they would listen despite the fact that she didn’t outrank a single one of them. To her pleasure, they eased back enough that she could see Fiona, her gorgeous eyes gone sightless and wild as her mind soared on high with her queen.
Shells, she was so beautiful. It didn’t matter that she wore simple wherhide trousers and a cotton shirt, she was stunning, and regal, and so fast, but I can catch her, yes, if I just…
Elle shook her head, not wanting Lonleth’s thoughts to completely consume her, not now, not yet. But she did step forward and take a place in the circle, half her mind following the dragons’ progress while she kept her amber eyes locked on the vision of strength and femininity before her.
As dragons gave up the chase, their riders shambled out in a daze. Elle knew the headwoman would have broached a cask of the finest Benden red for them to drown their defeat in the Lower Caverns. She inwardly cheered as each man departed since less competition increased her own chances, no matter how slim. Even if Lonleth didn’t win, if he wasn’t the dragon that Stoniath chose — for any who thought that it wasn’t the queen’s ultimate choice was an addle brained fool — she decided to approach Fiona at the next opportunity and see if her interest was at all reciprocated, see if she stood a chance.
And then she felt more than heard Lonleth’s triumphant bellow as he dove between two other bronzes, coming right up next to the golden queen, their necks twining together, and then—
Bliss. Such overwhelming pleasure that Elle-Lonleth didn’t know how they could stand it. It was everything they had craved, and they wished the moment could last forever, even as they knew they could only fly such heights for a handful of ephemeral minutes.
After they spent their passion, Lonleth and Stoniath winged down by a remote lake, curling up together to nap and enjoy each other’s company, enjoy their newfound bond.
And back in Fiona’s weyr, Elle felt herself slowly disengage from her bronze partner’s mind, returning to her own consciousness to find herself a sweaty mess, her pale freckled arms and legs tangled with Fiona’s dark, long limbs, her head cradled between Fiona’s small, perfect breasts.
“I was wondering when I’d get you into bed,” Fiona mused, her contralto rich with good humor, words slightly slurred as if she was drunk on the aftermath of their encounter.
“You… really?” Elle stammered in surprise. “I had no idea you were interested!”
“It seemed important to you to make the first move,” Fiona temporized, stroking one hand through Elle’s disheveled red-brown hair. “Although I suppose you still didn’t make a move of your own — you have my Stoniath to thank for this. She’s admired your Lonleth even longer than I’ve admired you.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” Elle chuckled. She tipped her head up just enough that she could meet Fiona’s lovely eyes with hers.
“Then might I suggest not saying anything at all?” Fiona suggested with a mischievous grin.
Elle thought that was a fine idea, and as she slid down Fiona’s body to nestle between her muscular thighs, she decided she was the luckiest woman on all Pern.