For Sinric

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's room is almost pathologically neat, the bed made and everything in its place.

He stands aside to let Sinric in, the bathroom door standing open to reveal the huge sunken bath inside.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Athelstan's soft proclamation makes him smile as he steps out of the cloth around his ankles, setting the brooch down "The eunuchs of the imperial court can be whatever men desire them to be. Do you still desire me, Athelstan?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"I do", he says honestly. "Very much." And he closes the distance to set his hands lightly on Sinric's sides again. "Do you desire me, truthfully? You've been bought and sold enough, tonight... you should be free to choose."

[thewidewideworld]

He leans in and kisses Athelstan, slow and rich and giving. Partially in lieu of an answer. And partially to hide the soft sheen of tears that gather in his eyes. Few are so thoughtful and kind with him.

"Yes." He whispers softly, molding himself to Athelstan. Sex itself brings him little joy but there is pleasure to be found in touch, in closeness, and Athelstan seems like one willing to take the time to find it.

[athelstanthescribe]

He is, enjoying that almost as much as the act itself, and he'll take trouble with Sinric's pleasure as well.

Athelstan returns the kiss slowly, until it breaks, then turns and leads Sinric silently to the bed.

"Then undress me as you wish."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and follows, plucking deftly at the laces and ties. He pushes Athelstan's tunic over his head, his undershirt follows it.

With the grace of training, he falls to his knees to remove boots and socks, pulling slowly at the laces of Athelstan's trousers teasingly. He can feel the sweeling heat within as he draws the cloth away.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's there, certainly, and growing under Sinric's hands. As his trousers fall away, Athelstan backs up to lie on the bed, but otherwise lets Sinric take the lead for once in his life.

[thewidewideworld]

This isn't going quite to the path Sinric is accustomed. Men rarely back away when he is on his knees, his lips red as he knows they are.

He stands and follows Athelstan to the bed, a little hesitant. Normally he would mount a man laying on his back like this, ride him to completion but it doesn't feelnas if that is what Athelstan wants.

Instead Sinric lays beside him, cupping his cheek and drawing him into another kiss. Athelstan's kisses are so sweet.

[athelstanthescribe]

What he wants is what Sinric wants, but he knows it must be difficult for Sinric to accept having wishes and choices.

He leans in to the kiss, gently. "Did you want to... use your mouth, or something else?" It's a question, not a suggestion or an order. "I will ask for nothing you don't enjoy."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric opens his mouth to speak before he schools himself. His whore's patter is of no use to him today.

Instead he takes Athelstan's hand and brings it to his breasts, the most sensitive part of him, before reaching between Athelstan's legs to stroke him slowly.

[athelstanthescribe]

If anything, Athelstan is trying, tentatively and without a clear plan, to teach Sinric how to be something other than a whore or slave, by not treating him like one.

He strokes Sinric's breasts tenderly, even as he moves into Sinric's own touch and kisses him again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moans softly, breathlessly, and honestly. His nipples harden like glass under the touch, letting the feeling wash over him.

His tiny cock hardens a little too, a useless reflex of pleasure.

His hands move smoothly, confidently on Athelstan. This he knows well enough to do on instinct. A twist of his wrist here, a stroke of his thumb there, varying his speed and tighten without thought.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan groans into his mouth, feeling and appreciating his skill and hardening almost painfully under his hands.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric knows exactly how to draw a man out, or how to bring him to his fall hard and fast. But with Athelstan, he isn't sure which way to go. "Tell me?" He asks softly, between kisses, "Tell me when you are ready."

[athelstanthescribe]

He'd rather draw it out, and that will become clear. He frees a hand to reach blindly for the drawer and retrieve the bottle of lubricant he keeps there.

"Does it bring you pleasure, to be taken?" he asks just as softly. "Or is there any way you know it could?"

[thewidewideworld]

He shakes his head very slightly and lays a hand on Athelstan's to stay him. "There is no peak for me to reach. But I enjoy being held close as I am taken."

He moves to straddle Athelstan, taking him in with ease. His passage already open and ready.

With anyone else he would fake the pleasure of being filled - a lie so constant it has almost become truth.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Then you'll have that." He wraps his arms around Sinric in fulfillment of the promise, already thrusting into him. "For you deserve what enjoyment you can have."

[thewidewideworld]

The sound Sinric makes is small and vulnerable and he turns his face away a little. Once again, he guides a hand to the swell of his chest, rolling easily and sinuously with his thrusts.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan rolls them over, knowing how secure it makes him feel to have Ragnar's weight on him and hoping it will be the same for Sinric.

He turns Sinric's face gently back towards him to kiss his lips, then moves his mouth downwards to Sinric's chest.

[thewidewideworld]

There are tears in his eyes, soft tears that he'd rather hide. No-one has ever gotten inside his skin like this and he almost hates how tender and fragile it makes him feel.

It's easier when Athelstan moves down to kiss his breasts, letting him focus on the pleasure of that and that alone.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's hips are moving almost automatically, falling into a rhythm of thrusts while most of his attention is elsewhere.

He caresses Sinric's breasts with hands, lips and tongue, determined to pleasure him the only way he can think of.

[thewidewideworld]

There's no release for him, no outlet the way men are accustomed and yet he is hard with need. He moans and writhes, clenching tight around Athelstan, milking his lust.

[athelstanthescribe]

Perhaps if he tries hard enough, Athelstan thinks, he can bring Sinric release. His hands and mouth keep moving, along with his body.

[thewidewideworld]

Something clenches tight in Sinric's gut, taking hold of his spine like a vice. He cries out, feeling something overcoming him. He reaches down the grip his cock, bewildered by the hardness that usually fades so swiftly.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan raises his head to look into Sinric's face and alters the angle of his thrusts, trying to find the spot inside he knows exists, that feels so good for him.

"Is this the first time you've felt that?" he asks gently.

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes." Sinric whimpers. "Is this... is this what others feel?" It almost hurts, it fells so good.