Night two

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric woke at dawn, as he had most of his life. He sat and watched the sun rise over Ribe. From the beach, he looked back at the little trade port as the sun crested the carved figureheads on the rooftops.

Hung-over and feeling more than a little sick, he felt... happier in his own way. A night of tears and a morning of introspection had helped.

He had said more to Ragnar last night, more than he should have. But Ragnar’s trust in the gods, in oracles and seers would cover that. It would be many years before Ragnar found the bar and years more before Ragnar would find him in the bar.

For Ragnar, it would be a beginning but for Sinric it was an end.

Just as it had been with Constantine, just as it had been it Yan. And Egrit, and Olaf, and Saga, and all his other lovers.

It was time to move on.

Tonight he would give Ragnar the water compass. Tonight he would sing his last songs for Ribe and in the morning sail with the first tide, or slip away and walk until his feet brought him to another place. His task in life was complete. What was left - belonged to him.

***

That night the tavern is a riot. Heavy drinking and boisterous singing. Knowing this will be his last night in this place, his last night as the person he has been since Ragnar foretold his future all those years ago, Sinric is determined to go out in style.

A Viking believes he lives while his reputation is remembered so Sinric plans to leave everyone here with memories enough for a lifetime.

He is standing on the table as Ragnar comes in, leading the perfect sing-along song for this sort of night. A drinking song that’s lewd, playful and makes everyone want to join in. The music is infectious, making even the most taciturn smile or tap their feet.

He’s in his element, the centre of a swirling cacophony of upraised voices and joy. But if anyone is watching closely, they'll see that for all the horn in his hand and his playful silliness, Sinric isn't drinking. Every time someone fills his cup, he manages to palm it off to someone else.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lifts his hips as Ragnar sucks him, arching his breasts into Ragnar's large hands. He feels so small, so delicate under Ragnar, just as he always has. When he was young and beautiful and loved. Just the thought makes him moan all the deeper.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar uses his tongue to lick back along that tiny prick while still suckling at the tip.

Sinric is small and wiry under his hands, and that feels very right, oddly enough.

[thewidewideworld]

The nature of his body makes this pleasure so easy and yet so rare. So wonderful. He writhes, his moans soft and lyrical.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar loves to hear those sounds,man's keeps on doing the things that brought the loudest of them.

[thewidewideworld]

"There! Just so!" Sinric moans, his body fluid and alight with pleasure. "Oh Ragnar! Always such joy!"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

This is only the second time, but Ragnar can't argue.

He does it again.

[thewidewideworld]

He moans roughly, wrapping his leg around Ragnar as he gets closer and closer to the edge. "Ragnar! Gods, Ragnar!" He whimpers, feeling his gut coil and tighten.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar just suckles harder.

[thewidewideworld]

He arches and cries, spilling into Ragnar's tongue. His hands buried in Ragnar's hair, legs wrapped around his shoulders, his lean little body shakes.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar keeps suckling until the shaking stops.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric falls back to the furs, panting roughly. He pulls at Ragnar, drawing him up into a deep kiss.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

He will taste himself on Ragnar's equally deep kiss.

[thewidewideworld]

Which is exactly as he wishes it. To taste himself in Ragnar's lips. To taste the memory of the bar and happier days.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Sinric..." Ragnar murmurs against his lips.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's only answer is to draw back and press his forehead against Ragnar's, eyes closed as he cups Ragnar's stubbled cheek.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar kisses him again, with deep feeling.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric breaks the kids and curled against Ragnar's chest, contented just to be held as the last of the high still warms him to the core.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I am glad you still have this," Ragnar says, softly.

[thewidewideworld]

"It is a rare pleasure for me. But always a joyous one." His fingers draw soft spirals over Ragnar's chest. "Few are as bold or as giving as you."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Are they afraid, or selfish?" Ragnar asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Both perhaps." Sinric shrugs. "And sometimes that is for the best. It is no small thing to open myself to someone like that."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Better stay calm inside while they melt with the heat of pleasure," Ragnar agrees.

[thewidewideworld]

"The soul of a poet." Sinric laughs, "Just so." And there are few he feels safe to melt with.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"It wasn't all that poetic," Ragnar says. "Just summarising your clever thinking."

[thewidewideworld]

"As I am, I walk a careful line between worlds. Something that means bring careful who I trust and who I let know too much about myself. Including my passions, lest they threaten the pride of some men."