Athelstan of Lindisfarne

Ragnar thrusts up more powerfully as well, his prick sliding into Sinric all the way to the hilt with eery thrust.

He won't be long now.

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Sinric has no need for gentle, no desire for waiting. He wants to ache in all the best ways. He wants to feel them when he moves, to remind himself it's real. He wants their pleasure more than he can bear his own.

{ooc: logging off, I swear!}

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Athelstan's hands tighten in his hair as he draws close to the edge, pulling hard.

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Ragnar can't contain his pleasure any more -- he spills his seed into Sinric's hole, with a great bellow of utter abandon, burying his prick to the hilt as the hot spurts release deep into the warm, welcoming body.

He spills, and spills, and spills some more, with great abandon; it takes a number of heartbeats until he is done.

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The heat and force of Ragnar's release makes Sinric cry out, his throat tight and humming around Athelstan as he seeks to draw him over the edge too.

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He feels Ragnar's release even with Sinric's body between them, and Sinric's pleasure more directly, and the two combine to push him over into peaking.

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Ragnar gasps, clinging to both of them, unable to speak.

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Sinric drinks down Athelstan's release with hungry fervour, lapping and licking to catches every drop. He rests his cheek in Athelstan's thigh, panting raggedy.

He feels right, good. Filled and stretched and content. Their pleasure may have surmounted his own but his own pleasure to a wild and terrifying thing he can't face so soon. This is what he needed and they have giving it to him with such vigour and kindness. He purrs happily, clenching around Ragnar once more before kissing the inner curve of Athelstan's thigh.

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With that done, Athelstan slips back into the water to embrace Sinric, touching his face and hair.

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Ragnar reaches out to wrap a long, strong arm around the both of them, and cranes his neck for a kiss from Athelstan.

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Tucked warmly between them, Sinric sighs, content to hold and be held. He rests his head on Ragnar's shoulder, moving aside to let them kiss.

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Athelstan kisses Ragnar as tenderly as he's holding Sinric.

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Ragnar returns the kiss as tenderly, hands still gently roaming Sinric's body.

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He leans into their embrace for long moments, enjoying the warmth and the pleasant ache of his body before siding out from between them and letting them embrace each other.

He has been shared so many times, and always those who share him need time to connect with each other too. He seeks out a cloth and the liquid soap, ready to wash them when they break from their moment.

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Athelstan lets his hand run over Sinric's skin in a gesture of thanks until he's out of reach, then moves fully into Ragnar's arms.

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Ragnar runs a hand down Sinric's retreating arm as well, in a gesture of thanks, then takes Athelstan in his arms and pulls him close and kisses him deeply and languidly.

"I love you," he whispers into the kiss. "Thank you for finding him in this way."

Sinric is still too close to even suggest aloud that there is more to tell. Bit Athelstan probably realises without Ragnar saying so, in so many words.

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Sinric waits quietly and politely at the other end of the bath, washing himself with the efficiency of someone accustomed to only having a moment to wash between engagements.

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"It was luck, as usual", Athelstan says with a smile into the kiss. "Or fate."

Efficiency in washing just means Sinric can have more time to enjoy the water when he's done.

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Ragnar kisses him again, slowly. "Oh, fate," he says. "No doubt about that!"

He spreads his legs a little to have Athelstan closer in the embrace, even though they are both sated.

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Sinric recognises the need in their intimacy and as silently as he can, slips out of the bath. The thick cloths on the wall seem to be for drying so he takes one and makes short work of his body before retreating to the other room to give them space and solitude.

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Ragnar keeps kissing and stroking Athelstan while Sinric is still in the room, murmuring love and thanks, only.

Still holding him as close when Sinric slips out, he then adds, in the same intimate tone, "That is Sinric the wanderer you found, a young Sinric about thirty years in the past, twenty before I am going to have met him in a tavern while away trading, where I would listen to his tales of rich lands in the west before giving in to my curiosity and bedding him. I know how to get that sweet little snail to raise its head from its shell in curiosity because he taught me! And when we parted, he gave me the sun-board and the sunstone."

Pause.

"Without him, I would not have come to England; without him, I would never have found you so I could love you; without him, neither of us would be who he is. We owe him, and the fate that threw him in our path, for everything we are and have. That is who he is."

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Athelstan's eyes widen, and he turns to look towards the door Sinric vanished through.

"Fate indeed, that he came here and I met him. I hope we can repay him, either now or then."

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"Now," Ragnar says. "I never met him again, after that. He must know where to find me, but he never did. So all we can do for him, we do now while we can."

Pause.

"I have met him today as well, and realised who he was; he is very striking and unique, even with twenty years in-between. But I would not..."

Beat.

"A small sweet Saxon is much more easy to trust, and open up to, for one as downcast as he is still. We are the ones to set him on the path to the pride and self-assurance so he will wander the world and set us on our path!"

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"What can we do for him?" Athelstan asks. "To make sure he can leave Constantinople? When his emperor dies, he'll be in the gravest danger."

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