Ah...Artha. I don't think he's nearly as interesting to dissect as Moordryd, but I'm obligated to do so anyway. So, without further ado, here's part 2 to "Simple Pleasures"!

(I own nothing)

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Simple Pleasures – Artha

When Cain had said that the stable brat was too arrogant, Moordryd could only agree. His lover bragged about anything and everything, pausing only to breathe every now and then.

But bragging was something that made Artha happy, so Moordryd tolerated it. He could usually sit and read a magazine or something until Artha stopped talking. Sometimes, the blue-eyed boy would take a break from his boasting and catch a sight of his lover's disinterested posture. That's when he gave Moordryd the kicked puppy look.

Moordryd couldn't resist the kicked puppy look. He would sigh, guilt and annoyance heavy on that exhaled breath, and would put down his magazine to pay notice to Artha. Artha simply loved the attention.

More than random attention, Artha loved Moordryd's attention. So much, in fact, that he went to great lengths to obtain that attention. Stealing Moordryd's coffee, launching a "sneaky ninja attack" on him, goosing him, nothing was below Artha when it came to catching Moordryd's eye. Although Artha's bolder attempts usually ended with a black eye or something unpleasant shoved up his nasal cavity, Moordryd knew his lover meant well.

Sometimes, Artha's bolder attempts resulted in an amused smirk from his lover and then a kiss for his troubles. Oftentimes a kiss resulted in Moordryd on his back on the nearest horizontal surface, moaning and enjoying himself immensely. Artha liked to see Moordryd like this, he liked to hear the usually disdainful voice groaning his name in pleasure. Artha liked sex.

As incorrigible as Artha's sex drive was, he knew when Moordryd wanted to be screwed and when he wanted to be cuddled. Artha loved to hold the slim teen in his arms, loved to have a pale cheek pressed against his chest and feel slim arms wrap loosely around his neck.

Artha Penn was fairly easy to please.

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Fin.

LYKE ZOMGZ! I MENTIONED SEX?

Yeeeeeah. Artha's sixteen, people. Cut him some slack. Moordryd's more eager to cuddle because cuddling doesn't leave him with a sore bum.

Somehow, this is just…the worst one I've written thus far and I refuse to acknowledge it's existence after I post it. AND THESE THINGS ARE STILL TOO FRIGGIN' SHORT! My brain just refused to write anything longer!

Anyway, Artha was harder to write and much less fun. So to make this more fun (because if it isn't fun, I walk away from it), I wrote…AN OMAKE! Wooo! Hurray!

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OMAKE: Bath Time!

Wyldfyr had let out a pleased rumble, Cyrano had consented without a fight, Beau had taken a little bribing, and Fracshun had to be tranquilized. However, all was well and the dragons were ready to be bathed. Kitt was scrubbing carefully around the magma-class' horns when Beau roared in displeasure.

Instead of checking for scale rot, filing his nails, cleaning his teeth, and lathering him up with the special dragon shampoo, Artha had simply blasted Beau with the hose.

Lance burst out into a fit of laughter, but that was cut short as mud was kicked into his face. Parm chuckled quietly and ducked the glop of mud heading in his direction, then resumed polishing Cyrano's scales. Wyldfyr snorted, having no intention of getting dirty so soon after her bath, and shuffled away with Kitt to a part of the yard where mud didn't fly.

Meanwhile, Beau had somehow wrestled the hose away from Artha and punctured several holes in it in the process. Tugging at the green hose in Beau's mouth was pointless, but Artha still tried. Pointing the rubber pipe in Artha's general direction and shaking his head, Beau managed to drench his rider. Then, he splattered mud all over him.

Artha had merely laughed good-naturedly and tugged off his shirt, asking Parm to hose him off with a different hose. Afterwards, he began to scour away at Beau's scales properly, still shirtless.

Up on a building overlooking the ruined stables, Moordryd focused his binoculars.

He loved bathing day at the Penn stables.

OMAKE: End.