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Summary: Rodney, Juan, hallucinogenic (psychic) aphrodisiac pollen.
AN: Crossover with Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover novels.
The Ghost Wind
The song had been about Blessed Cassilda, and Camilla the Damned, though from the story Rodney honestly couldn't see what she'd done that had deserved damning. Wrong place at the wrong time, and all that. Come to that, he wasn't sure what made Cassilda blessed, a point that when he brought it up, generally made Juan look at him as if he'd grown fur, or maybe a second head. This was of course why sane (which Rodney definitely was) people didn't talk about religion. What was it with the human subconscious that took such glee in creating gods that wandered around sleeping with mortal women and getting them pregnant, anyway?
There was something about this (the sparkling wind, not the libertine dieties of Darkover) that was very bad, very wrong, but Rodney couldn't remember what it was. Someone was tugging on his arm, saying "Rodrigo," and, "tent," and something about "mask," but his comprehension of Icasta/I had flown off with the magenta butterflies that were swirling in the wind.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rodney said, or tried to say, but the hands spun him about, until he was facing Juan. The matrix technician was frowning at him, and the glowing pollen brought out green and gold sparks in his hazel eyes.
"You are not fine, Rodri," Juan said fiercely. "You are intoxicated. Come to the tent. Now."
"It's a cliche, but did you know you're beautiful when you're angry?" Rodney said, and giggled at the look on Juan's face. His eyes, anyway. Juan's nose and mouth were covered by a scarf. "Amoso, amoso amizu." Almost singing the words.
"I am not angry," Juan said.
"You sound angry," Rodney protested.
"I am frightened," Juan said, and propelled Rodney toward the tent. "Ghost winds can be dangerous."
"I can see that," Rodney said, stumbling along. He felt light headed and a little sick, and he could hear singing and laughter, the sounds blown in by the shiny wind. There was certainly going to be dancing, but the floor kept swaying in the wind. "I'm not a very good dancer," Rodney said, and leaned against Juan for balance.
"We are not dancing, Rodrigo, we are walking." Juan's voice sounded exasperated, and sent little chills down Rodney's spine.
"Walking to the tent," Rodney said agreeably. "I don't see the tent, are we going the right way?" All he could see was shiny, glittering pollen refracting into rainbows, fractals. "I think I'm hallucinating though, so I could be wrong." He stumbled, and Juan kept him from stumbling. "Gradeisu," Rodney said.
"You are welcome," Juan said, and brought him to stop. Juan's eyes were really very pretty. Golden Ikiriseth/I pollen was dusting his hair and his eye lashes and clothes. Gold was everywhere, and Juan's pupils were dilated.
"We are so high," Rodney said. "And you are really unbelievably pretty." He was very proud that he managed to say most of that in casta.
"You mean handsome," Juan said with a slight smile.
"No, I mean pretty," Rodney said. "It's your eyes. You have pretty eyes."
I want to kiss you, Rodney heard, and he had no idea who said it first. He leaned in, and Juan met him, hand curving around the back of Rodney's head.
There was a skip in time, and they were in the tent, its walls billowing in the wind. It was easier to breathe, but harder to think. Someone (Juan) had the presence of mind to zip the tent closed. They kissed some more, wiggling out of their clothes, wanting to be, needing to be skin to skin. They rolled around, Juan laughing like a loon. Juan tasted sweet and faintly bitter, and Rodney wondered if it was possible to come just from being kissed.
He was floating, coming loose from his moorings, drifting away in the wind. Floating away like a balloon, or milkweed fluff. For a moment everything went blurry, and he saw himself seated on a bench in a garden. An angry, pouting girl was standing with her arms crossed over her skinny chest. She had golden eyes and coppery, hacked off hair that stood up in wild spikes. "Cammy, your father can't help being a sexist moron--it's the culture he was raised in. If you really want to be a Renunciate, you can be a Renunciate. Just don't try to become a barber," the other Rodney was saying.
Then he was in the Thendara Spaceport, in one of the lobbies for new arrivals. Juan and Rodney and the red haired girl were there, obviously waiting for someone. The someone turned out to be his sister Jeannie, who threw herself into the other Rodney's arms. "Oh Mer, I'm so glad to see you!" Behind her was his niece, and his brother in law, all three looking tired and strung out with something that felt like something other than mere space-sickness.
Then the scene shifted, and he was floating disembodied in some kind of vehicle. "Are you sure we should let Rodrigo in the air car?" A dark haired man was saying to a woman in the red robes and veil of a Keeper. "He might try to take it apart."
The other him snorted. "Oh please, I fixed the matrix screens didn't I?" But the other him was glancing toward some kind of panel set in the wall with a wistful, inquisitive look on his face.
"After you nearly broke it further, Rodri," the woman in red said.
Bredu Rodney heard, but he's not sure who said it, or if it was said at all. (In some sense he couldn't describe, he turned and went toward the voice.) It was gold inside the tent too, and colors too brilliant and shining to be named. (Psychedelic hayfever for godssakes.) The colors felt warm and sounded like music, like laughter. Bredu. Stay with me. Stay, Juan said.
"God," Rodney said, and didn't go anywhere. He felt light headed, drunk and hungry for touch. He smoothed his hands over Juan's back, touching anything he could reach, Juan arching like a cat. "Beautiful, so beautiful." He was talking about the light and the sight and the sound, but he was talking about Juan too. Juan was glowing, they both were, drowning in color that was sound, sound that was touch, touch that was taste, and some detached part of him realized that they were both experiencing synaethesia. They were inside each other's skins, inside each other's heads, lightning flashes of sensation that seemed to go on forever.
(Juan had given him kiriseth once, while testing his laran. The refined form acted like a very trippy psychoactive sedative. The raw form was acting more like a euphoric hallucinogen, and the same detached part of him that noted the synaethesia, was vaguely worried about overdosing. Or ending up an acid head.)
"Bredu," Juan said, aloud this time, the word shivering against Rodney's skin, and he almost drifted off again, but there were more kisses, lush and heated, to hold him in place.
Juan worked his way down, licking and sucking until Rodney thought or said insistently IMy turn, dammit!/I Juan gave way, smiling wickedly until Rodney erased the smile with kisses, spread Juan's legs and sucked him down.
The sound Juan made was red, and was felt as much as heard. Rodney groaned in response, and Juan shuddered beneath him. (And what Juan felt, he did.) Rodney sucked and teased Juan into incoherence, then brought him off with a spit-slick finger. Juan's orgasm set his off, with no friction involved. There was more after that, but it all faded into a golden haze that ended with them curled together, boneless and warm while the ghost wind continued to blow.
amoso: beautiful
amizu: (male) friend/acquaintance
casta: primary language spoken on Darkover
bredu: brother, with a different inflection, it also means "beloved"
bredillu: little brother
gradeisu: (male) thank you
laran: telepathy and/or any other metaphysical/psychic power.
ghost wind: A wind that's blowing around a lot of kiriseth pollen. Kiriseth in its raw form is psychoactive, hallucinogenic, and an aphrodisiac.
kiriseth: a) a blue flower with gold pollen. also known as "Cleindori" (golden bell) or starflowers. The pollen is psychoactive/psychotropic as well as hallucinogenic. Aphrodisiac properties. Potentially lethal. b) the refined drug form of the pollen. can be used, depending on dosage to dampen or increase psychic ability.