Athelstan of Lindisfarne

Sinric croons softly and kisses Athelstan's neck again, leaning in to steal a kiss from Ragnar and press them together. "Nothing more beautiful can ever be."

He eases back to let them be with each other completely, without the distraction of him. He begins to sing again, being to them a songbird as he lays back on the pillows.

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"As I love you, Athelstan," Ragnar says, in Saxon, starting to speed up his thrusts while smiling into his lover's eyes.

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Athelstan lies back all the way now, drawing Ragnar with him, until his head is on the pillows near Sinric's legs.

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Sinric curls around to reach Athelstan, carding his fingers through Athelstan's hair as he watches them, still singing. His eyes meet Ragnar's for a moment and he smiles, a warm smile that while genuine, hides a sadness too.

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Ragnar returns the smile, even some of the sadness; Sinric will have all the freedom, adventure and knowledge in the world, but for all Ragnar knows, he'll never have something like this.

He is thrusting into Athelstan, trying for true aim every time.

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Athelstan shifts, his legs tightening around Ragnar's waist, to direct him as best he can.

He can't see Sinric's face, but he can see the look Ragnar gives him, and he understands.

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Sinric takes one of Athelstan's hands and holds it, his fingers carressing the smooth skin of his inner wrist. He closes his eyes, letting the passion of them wash over him, the race of Athelstan's heart in his pulse and the roughness of Ragnar's breath, the heat of the room and the scent of sweat and sex. All of it he takes into himself and makes it part of the song.

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Ragnar speeds up his movements even more; his is driving into Athelstan to drive him to his steep peak,

He reaches out to touch Sinric's hand on Athelstan's

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Athelstan's pulse speeds up even more as Ragnar sends him to the heights of pleasure, and he pulls Ragnar's head down for a heated kiss.

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Ragnar's touch brings a smile to his lips, binding them together in the moment. His eyes still closed, he brings his song to crescendo, singing his way to the peak with him with voice and breath if not in body, though his heart races with theirs.

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Ragnar gives a few more thrusts as he gasps into the kiss, and then he feels the pleasure peak, unable to stop himself any longer; he shoots his seed into Athelstan's body, and shouts his pleasure into the middle of Sinric's sound.

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Because of Ragnar, and because of Sinric's earlier help, Athelstan is right there with him, crying out and joining his voice to the other two.

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A shudder runs through Sinric, sounding in his voice as a soft moan, lost in their cries. He doesn't stop singing yet but the song changed. Softer, sweeter - a song for slow embraces and the glow of love shared.

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Ragnar spills powerfully, especially when he feels Athelstan clench all around him in his pleasure; but this cannot last, of course.

Stilling his movements, and catching his breath, he lies on Athelstan, covering him, and then languidly lifts his head for another kiss.

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Athelstan returns it, still breathing fast but beginning to come down. He smiles into the kiss as he hears Sinric's song.

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Normally this is when Sinric would move away and leave the couple be a moment while he fetches wine or warm water to wash with but he doesn't know how the bath house works yet.

So he stays, singing them into rest.

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"Oriens," Ragnar says, softly, lifting his head to look at him. "Thank you. For helping, and for looking at us."

Something still pleasurably coils in this belly that somebody -- not anybody, Sinric! -- has seen them kiss and join, has seen Athelstan's hole stretch around his prick and take it in to the hilt.

They had a witness. This is even more real now.

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Athelstan tips his head to look past Ragnar at Sinric.

"Yes. You... added something very particular."

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He leans in to kiss them each lazily. "It was an honour to watch you both. You are truly beautiful. Love makes you both shine."

He smiles richly and lazily. "I believe you said something about a bath?"

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"Yes, I heard the word as well," Ragnar says, smiling a bit woozily. He doesn't feel like getting up yet -- he is barely out of Athelstan, as it is, and still savouring aftershocks -- but he will, of course, to give Sinric what he wants.

If he wants a bath, Ragnar will stand for that as he would for his peak of pleasure.

Love makes you both shine, though. That sentence kindles a feeling of deep happiness -- active happiness, positive happiness, the kind he talked about with Athelstan the other day.

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"A bath there shall be", Athelstan murmurs. "But perhaps in just a little while."

His arm slips around Sinric, without moving away from Ragnar.

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He snuggles close, an arm across them. "I would draw it myself if I knew how. Perhaps, when you're ready you can teach me. For next time." Because he has no fear that there will be a next time. Their company is too good not to enjoy again.

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Ragnar reaches out to touch Sinric's cheek.

"Next time I shall ask for the chance to pleasure you," he murmurs.

His arm goes around Sinric as well, meeting Athelstan's hand and entwining their fingers.

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"It would only be fair", Athelstan agrees with a faint smile.

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