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]

"It likes this," Ragnar says, stroking the littlle prick with the back of his finger, like a shy little creature of its own.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles. "I most certainly do." He moans softly, spreading his legs a little wider.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar strokes the inside of Sinric's thighs, roving all the way to his knees before settling on that sweet little snail.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric luxuriates in the touch, just enjoying Ragnar's gentleness. His large nipples hardened, his little snail twitching.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar kisses, licks and suckles those lovely nipples while two callused fingers rub back and fort between Sinric's legs.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hooks an ankle around Ragnar's leg, arching up into touch. "Oh, sweet Ragnar."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"You really find me sweet?" Ragnar chuckles, starting to kiss his way down Sinric's chest, leaving a hand on his breasts.

[thewidewideworld]

"Utterly." Sinric purrs. "One day you will look back on this and laugh." He promises.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"No I won't," Ragnar says. "This is too good to laugh about it."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans down and kisses Ragnar long and lovingly. "Yes, it is."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar looks up at him with those fierce, pale eyes.

Sinric makes him feel as if he personally meant something, beyond his fate and destiny he had come to deliver.

[thewidewideworld]

Oh sweet Ragnar, if only you knew. Sinric's dark brown eyes hold his.

Love, compassion, desire.

And sadness.

It's hard to hold the mask high, pretend Ragnar is nothing to him but a passing fuck with all the history Sinric now carries alone.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar doesn't look away for a long time, all movement stilled.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric strokes his cheek, so much unsaid and yet laid bare.

But after long moments, he closes his eyes slowly. "Stay with me tonight? I have no right to ask it but I must leave with the dawn. And I don't know if I will ever see you again."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes," Ragnar says. "I will."

He bows his head and kisses the tip of that little snail-like member.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets himself fall back to the bed, the air going out of him in a soft sigh of pleasure.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar nuzzles and kisses his way over Sinric's lower stomach, and on the inside of his thighs, just accidentally-on-purpose brushing his short beard, or a nose-tip, over the little pricklet itself.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric answers him with sighs, aborted little moans, gentle touches.

It's a good thing Ragnar is so focused in Sinric's lower half. It means he won't see the sift tears welling in Sinric's eyes.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar is gentle, tender and slow -- he likes hearing more of those sighs and moans.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives himself over to it, letting feeling and sensation wash over him with an indulgence he doesn't often allow any more.

But this is Ragnar.

Ragnar before.

There's loneliness in that, in knowing what he knows but Ragnar can't. Not yet.

But if he closes his eyes and just... feels. Maybe he can forget that for a while.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Finally, Ragnar licks along the little pricklet, rubbing it with his tongue.

His hands roam Sinric's hips and chest.

[thewidewideworld]

Those moans grow louder, more passionate. His little prick hardens fully, delighting in Ragnar's attention.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar suckles the tip of it, stroking Sinric's breasts all the while.

[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.