athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

That gets an exaggerated pout, that's quickly disrupted by that reaction.

"...did you - ah! - did you just call it little?"

"It's smaller than mine!" Ragnar says, stroking it in order to get more reactions.

"Everything of me is smaller than you", he objects, then his head falls back against Ragnar's shoulder. "It's hardly fair to - point it out."

"It's a very nice size and well in proportion," Ragnar says, opening Athelstan's trousers and pulling it out so he can look at it, and stroke it where it's arching against Athelstan's belly. "I like it very much."

Ragnar sits up to pull Athelstan's trousers off him.

Athelstan raises his hips a little to help, eyeing Ragnar.

"Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can forgive you."

Ragnar pulls the trousers off and looks down at the naked Athelstan, on the green bracken, under the clear sunlight.

He is very, very nice to look at, Ragnar thinks.

"It's just the right size for this."

He bends down, and takes the head of Athelstan's prick between his lips.

Athelstan gasps, arching against the bracken in the sudden rush of sensation from this new experience with Ragnar.

Ragnar suckles on it for a bit, rubbing his tongue against the underside while he does so.

He lets go, and peers up at Athelstan.

"Usually," he murmurs, lips and beards moving against Athelstan's prick and his stones in their taut sac, "I touch you from the inside, and it gives you so much pleasure, this sweet thing here is usually happy to spill between our bellies with no other encouragement. But now, I think I want to give it the full attention it deserves."

He proceeds to kiss his way down its length.

"Ragnar", he murmurs helplessly. "I... yes. Whatever you want..."

Everything brings him pleasure.

Ragnar gives some playful little bites to the inside of Athelstan's thighs, and then licks his way up the prick again, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the edge of the tip, at the little corner where the foreskin is attached.

Athelstan's hands clench involuntarily on the bracken, accidentally tearing some of it loose.

"It's exactly the right size for this," Ragnar murmurs, bearded lips moving again the sensitive flesh. Then, he takes it into his mouth again, sucking it in just far enough for it to be comfortable for him, and pleasurable for Athelstan.

He cries out Ragnar's name at that, all other words abandoning him.

To make it last a little longer, Ragnar lets go again and blows over the wet tip; then, he takes his own middle finger in his mouth in the same manner, getting it nice and slick, eyes glittering at Athelstan with wicked promise.

Athelstan's eyes sparkle in response, even as he's catching his breath from the last time, and he deliberately spreads his legs.

So nice and ready for him! Ragnar pushes his finger inside so Athelstan won't feel empty, crooking the tip to reach for the sensitive spot there; then, he licks up Athelstan's prick again and once more take it inside, slurping on it with wet lips and tongue.

Athelstan groans, deep in his throat.

"Ragnar..."

Ragnar answers something, but it's incomprehensible, as his mouth is rather full just now.

Athelstan wants to touch something that isn't vegetation.

His hands flail vaguely until they find Ragnar's head.

Ragnar's braid is quite useful for holding on to. And not vegetation at all.

Ragnar's free hand roams up Athelstan's belly any chest.

His hands tangle deeply in Ragnar's braid and he lies back with a pleasured sigh, letting Ragnar touch him however he wants.

That is what Ragnar was aiming for -- his hand on Athelstan's chest, his finger in Athelstan's hole, and his mouth around Athelstan's prick are all there just to give pleasure.

Athelstan stretches to his full length, opening himself to Ragnar in every way he can.

Ragnar falls into an easy rhythm, thrusting, suckling and stroking; he can keep that up quite a while.

He likes it; his cheek rests on Athelstan's spread-open thigh, and his nose is nestled in the dark curls at his groin as his lips and tongue work on giving Athelstan pleasure.

Athelstan murmurs something unintelligible, lost in pleasure at what Ragnar's doing - and who's doing it, as ever - and desire for what he knows is coming.