athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's almost time to leave their little hunting cabin and go back to the town, much as Athelstan and Ragnar might wish they could stay... but Athelstan's dog is nowhere to be seen.

Athelstan stands in the doorway, looking and calling for him, and finally he reappears, carrying something in his mouth.

"Fiachra? What have you got there?"

He crouches for a better look, frowning as it strikes him that doesn't look like a deer bone...

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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.

For once, Ragnar doesn't speed up his ministrations; he knows that either Athelstan will get vocal and make demands, or he'll go with the flow and be swept over the edge of pleasure with inexorable slowness.

He'll notice, anyway.

He doesn't make any demands. For the time being, Athelstan is more than satisfied with what he's getting.

And soon, Athelstan will be properly satisfied.

But there's no hurry; and Ragnar actually enjoys doing this, leisurely and slow.

They don't often get the chance at leisurely and slow, still less at everything they'd like to do to each other, and they're both going to enjoy it while it lasts.

After a while, Ragnar moves his head to dip up and down more, in addition to simply suckling.

Athelstan's breath starts to come short and rapid, and his fingers flex and pull at Ragnar's braid.

Oh, so finally he's losing control! With his lips still around the tip of Athelstan's prick, Ragnar lifts his head to peer up at him.

He's learned self-control all his life, giving it up doesn't happen so easily. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks back at Ragnar.

"Don't stop", he gasps. "Unless..."

Ragnar doesn't stop. He doesn't even want to know what would happen unless.

He sucks in deeply, and thrusts more insistently with his finger.

It was more an 'unless you're going to do something else', but this is absolutely fine with Athelstan.

His muscles spasm around Ragnar's finger, and he tries to restrain the arching of his body at least enough to slow it and not smack Ragnar in the face.

Oh, yes! That's more like it.

Ragnar keeps sucking, and pushing.

Edited 2015-06-01 11:59 (UTC)

"Ragnar", he gasps out. "I can't... I'm going to..."

He wants to be sure that's all right.

That is rather the point of this exercise, so Ragnar keeps suckling and pushing even more strongly.

Yes, it's all right.

Athelstan cries out as he reaches his peak, and his body reacts even more strongly.