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

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar turns very willing now he has decided to try this, and pulls his upper knee forwards, to open himself to the touch from behind. It is still a little cool, not hot as a living person's flesh would be; but instead, this will be magic.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric kisses his shoulder and whispers words in a strange and foreign, adding a twist to them that sounds like an invocation.

My Raven, my love. How I have dreamed of sharing this with you.

He presses the slick head of the phallus inside Ragnar, slow and gentle. The shallow carvings, smooth edged and patterned add an extra layer to the sensation and he teases the tip in and out slowly.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar tilts his hips towards the intrusion, wanting it as much as he has wanted anything in his life. He moans loudly with the new sensation of being stretched and held open, pleasurable and strange in ways even Sinric's fingers hadn't been.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric guides the phallus deeper, slowly, carefully. Even as Ragnar's greedy movements take it deeper still.

He closes his eyes at the jade warms, his own little prick inside it like a cave. The feel of it - the smooth flanges at the base that sit against his skin, the pressure as he takes Ragnar inch by careful inch. He makes it part of himself, his manhood of dragon-sperm, letting himself slip into the imagined pleasure of being endowed so. He moves his hands to Ragnar's hips, caressing Ragnar's stones once more as he begins to thrust slowly.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar tilts his hips even further, in an answering rhythm, meeting each thrust with a greedy cant of his spine towards the entering source of pleasure.

Of power.

He is hard, very hard, and his stones are tight; but that is not where the pleasure is radiating out from, this time. No, that is inside him, a fire that flares at each movement of the magic within him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves his hand to encircle Ragnar's manhood. His surprisingly strong and nimble fingers form a ring around the base of his shaft, tightening and loosening with the thrusts to keep Ragnar from falling too soon.

He has waited too long to make love to Ragnar like this.

He kisses the side of Ragnar's neck, whispering endearments in every tongue he can think of bar Ragnar's own, soft and insistent and warm.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Oh Sinric," Ragnar moans, "Sinric, this is ---"

He feels encompassed, safe, even loved -- so very different from what he expected of this night.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric croons softly and shifts nuzzling his neck. With the slight shift of his hips, his thrusts go deeper, touch that place inside Ragnar that makes him moan.

Sinric has a knack for this after long practice with Prince Saga. Knowing just how deep to thrust the bring pleasure without pushing too far.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar moans louder; his whole spine undulates with pleasure, hips pushing back into the thrusts as he opens himself fully to this mysterious and all-encompassing pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Part of Sinric want to draw this out, make like to Ragnar for hours and hours. Keep him on the knife edge of pleasure till it becomes almost unbearable.

But that would be almost cruel for Ragnar's first time feeling such pleasure. But Sinric does linger over it for a while, pressing kisses to Ragnar's skin and shifting his thrusts to bring Ragnar different feelings of pleasure.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar's moans grow more urgent and high-pitched, almost frantic.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hears him and with a last kiss, grips Ragnar's hips and takes him in earnest, finding the seat of pleasure with every thrust.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

So it takes only a few more thrusts for Ragnar to go over the edge with a wild shout, and spill copiously all over Sinric's hands.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric eases him through, holding Ragnar close and warm as he spills, whispering warm words of joy.

He holds Ragnar close in the aftermath too, carefully withdrawing the jade and setting it aside so he may hold Ragnar more comfortably.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar is still panting in the aftermath, unable to speak or move, for a moment.

He just makes a sound of satisfaction and contentment that seems almost, but not quite, like a purr.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles softly. Another thing that never changes. He gently encourages Ragnar to roll over, holding him against Sinric's chest.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar turns sluggishly, and snuggles clos,e infinitely satisfied and still quite overcome by the strangeness and newness of everything.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric strokes Ragnar's hair as Ragnar rests against his chest. A strangely maternal gesture given what they've just does. He's in no hurry to move, no hurry to let go.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar moves just enough to kiss one of Sinric's breasts, because they are lovely and he wants to.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets out what is most unashamedly a purr. He strokes Ragnar's hair softly, fingers curling around Ragnar's ear.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar nuzzles, then suckles on the nipple.

"Did you feel pleasure at all," he murmurs, "in there?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes." Sinric answers very readily. "But in different ways. Here and here," He touched temple and over his heart, "rather that here." He gestures to his tiny member. "But powerful and moving none the less."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"We'll have to do something about the poor neglected little thing, though, " Ragnar murmurs against Sinric's skin.

He reaches out to touch it, for a start.

[thewidewideworld]

"Little yes, but hardly poor." He sighs a half moan. He runs his hand down Ragnar's back, arching into the touch.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"No longer poor, I hope, when I finally pay proper attention to it," Ragnar murmurs, running his finger along the little pricklet.