From: "Tracee C. Schneider" <tamarisk@mindspring.com>

*** Warning... some sexual situations below ***

*Belarade*

She closed her eyes as his head burrowed between her breasts, her mind
reeling as she tried to collect her thoughts into one cohesive whole.

"Sh'han...wait...not here...not in the clinic...."

"Let's go somewhere else then...."

"I can't....I've been admitted...." Belarade shook her head.  "And Ce'Lot
and I are practically mates..."

"But not officially..." he reminded her.

Belarade shook her head once again.  "Please Sh'han..."

The dragonrider let out a frustrated sigh before nodding and standing up.
"All right Belarade...but I'm not convinced that he's the one for you...and
I'll be waiting for him to mess up..."

*B'Lin*

Walking out from Mattina's apartment, B'Lin couldn't help but
whistling...although he was still perplexed over the fiesty little
Veronyca... What was up with that girl?  Ah well...she'd fall for the suave
B'Lin soon enough....  It's not as if he could handle one more female on his
plate anyway...  He had just ended things with Brittany...Talesa was always
ready for a good romp...and the lovely limber Mattina...  Oh...and not to
forget his wife, Lecia.

"Who better be home..." B'lin grumbled to himself as he hopped onto Glay and
urged his dragon up towards his rooms.

<B'Lin...> the gray dragon began.

<Don't even start with your preaching this morning...> B'Lin cut the beast
off short.  <There's nothing wrong with this...it's like a mating flight...>

<No...it's not..> Glay stated flatly.  <But it's your funeral with the
warren lady.>

Rhia had yet to fall for any part of B'Lin.

The cries of R'har was the first thing to meet his ears and B'lin smiled as
he sauntered in.

"And why is my boy, crying?" he asked, making faces at the infant and taking
him away from Jewlia. R'har stopped
crying and watched his father's face for a moment, nearly smiling .. until
his stomach reminded him, it needed filling and he began to howl again.
B'Lin frowned at Lecia, "I think he's hungry. Haven't you fed him yet?"

"I was just going to take him to get a bottle .." Jewlia began moving to
take the baby.

But B'lin ignored her and  handed the baby to his mother, "Feed him."

"Where the hell have you been?" Lecia glared, not backing down and making
no move to take the howling baby.

B'Lin stopped still and frowned.  "What did you just say to me?" he
whispered as he grabbed Lecia hard by the arm and dragged her into their
bedroom.

"I said...where have you been?" Lecia replied icily.

"What business is it of yours?  Now, I suggest you take off that shirt..."
B'Lin said as he reached down and ripped her shirt away.  "And feed my son,
before you're very sorry that you didn't..."

Out in the large sandy bed, Sadennetta buried her head under Glay's wing,
<I just wish they would stop that baby from crying!> she moaned, trying to
shut out the howling infant.

<It does hurt your ears, doesn't it,> Glay agreed.  <But the little one
can't help it... he's likeable once you give him a chance...>

<He's too loud...>

Glay sighed and clamped his wing tighter around the young dragonet's ears.
<Well Sadennetta dear... I'm afraid...that between the crying...and the
yelling and screaming of our riders...this is only the beginning...>

*Belarade*

She felt someone gently tucking the blankets around her and she smiled
softly as her eyes blinked open...the familiar soft blur of blonde hair
leaning over her.

"Bel... I was just checking on you..." Ce'lot whispered.  "I can go..."

"No...no...don't go..." Belarade whispered as she tried to sit up.  "I'm
sorry... I'm sorry Ce'Lot..."

<TAG Kristen>

<NRPG:  Sorry for the wait on this... I'm struggling with writer's
block...and I feel like I've skimmed over the dinner with Veronyca and
B'lin, but I'm so far behind... I felt like I had to push on... Sorry Steph!
I'll do better next time!>

Respectfully Submitted,
Belarade, B'Lin and Glay
Tracee Taylor-Schneider

Dragonlands http://www.geocities.com/~_sierra_

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died
each year when the leaves fell from the trees and
their branches were bare against the wind and the
cold, wintry light.  But you knew there would always
be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again
after it was frozen.

-- A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway





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