Sinric moves back into place in the circle of touch. Athelstan's earlier pleasuring has left him off balanced and confused so he lets instinct and habit take over.

His smoky eyes half closed, he leans into their kiss, nuzzling first Athelstan's neck and then Ragnar. His soft lips and hot little tongue find the curve of their necks and the hollows of their collarbones, pressing into their touches with needy little moans.