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athelstan

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Sinric carries his bundle upstairs, side by side with Athelstan. They slip through the new invisible door into the solar, it's lighthouse like windows looking out onto the bar's forest and grounds.

The Bar has read their minds and set the room up accordingly - with a long low padded bench for Athelstan to lay on while Sinric massages him. The lights are low, the glass tinted to give the room a warm, protective feel.

And a basket in the corner for Athelstan's dog and his bone.

Sinric sets up the incense the bar gave him - an eastern blend that Sinric has always found deeply soothing. He plugs his little music player into the speakers and sets it to play the soft chanting music of the Buddhist temple in the Sinese Empire.

He holds a hand out to Athelstan and draws him close, offering him a warm hug if he wants it before gesturing for him to undress.

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Sinric moves with him without breaking the kiss. He may be small but his skin is warm as he covers Athelstan, pinning their joined hands down at the sides of Athelstan's head.

He tosses his hair back and comes up to kiss Athelstan's lips again. "Would you have me mark you, beloved?" There's a hungry growl to Sinric's question.

Athelstan meets his eyes, considering.

"I'd have to stay until it fades... but I'm in no hurry to leave. Yes."

Sinric licks his lips and kisses Athelstan again, purring contentedly at the back of his throat before kissing back down to that place with exaggerated care, teasing the moment out.

Athelstan tenses with anticipation - and Sinric will surely know the difference between that and fear.

He does and his thumbs rub soothing circles on Athelstan's inner wrists as he does, just to be sure.

Slowly his lips brush the point of his pulse, feather light and blood warm before he parts them. The tip of his tongue grazes the place, hot and wet.

The skin is thin there at his wrists, not much between Sinric's thumbs and the quickening pulse underneath.

And there, at his neck, his blood is racing.

He presses a slow, warm kiss over that racing pulse, his lips parting as be begins to suck, riding the careful line between pleasure and force to form a warm red mark on Athelstan's skin.

Athelstan has found that line to be rather narrower, lately. He murmurs his pleasure as Sinric goes to work.

So Sinric has observed. Those pleasures felt sharpest and loudest are the ones most able to pierce the fog around Athelstan's senses.

And as much as Sinric himself is much adverse to such pain himself, he is growing to understand how others might need or desire it.

He gives Athelstan's wrists a firm but gentle squeeze and bites just a little harder.

Athelstan groans softly in enjoyment, his own hands flexing as if in search of something to touch.

Sinric eases up, licking and breathing cool air over the spot, examining the mark he has left. It's not too large, or too deep that it won't heal quickly enough.

He lifts one of Athelstan's hands, moving it to rest in the golden mane to guide as he kisses slowly down and across Athelstan's chest, aiming for the other side of his neck.

His hand tangles in Sinric's hair, and he's thinking clearly enough to avoid pulling hard, but with what Sinric's doing, that may not last very long.

"Beloved", he echoes Sinric's word in Greek.

Sinric can start having his hair pulled in passion. Just not in violence. He's had plenty of experience with the former and trusts that Athelstan would never hurt him.

The word makes him purr with delight and he moans into Athelstan's skin and he nibbles his way closer to that wonderful spot.

He'd never hurt him on purpose, certainly, and he trusts Sinric to stop him if he does by accident.

He tips his head the other way, baring the unmarked skin on that side.

Athelstan's surrender to pleasure is heartening and makes Sinric all the more determined to offer him as much pleasure as possible. Even if it's no more than this.

He works his way up to kiss that spot, tracing the heat beneath his skin with little laps of his tongue.

Athelstan is good at surrender and submission. He finds it easier, especially now, than being asked to take the lead.

"Yes", he says again, very softly. "Sinric."

Sinric draws out the moment of anticipation, lapping and kissing warmly before finally biting down, sucking hotly.

Athelstan gasps and trembles under him, but in the best way.

Sinric lays atop him, skin to skin. His slender body is hot and close as he marks Athelstan, pouring all his love and his passion into that single bite.

He leans back, catching Athelstan's eye. His own blaze hotly as he leans in again to lash the raised mark with the flat of his tongue.

Athelstan holds his gaze even as he leans in closer, and there's love and growing desire in his own eyes.

Sinric whispers Athelstan's name as he laps at the dark red mark. His hands range slowly over Athelstan's chest, still focusing on the point of Athelstan's pulse.

Athelstan's hands are beginning to roam as well, the one combing through Sinric's hair, the other on his shoulder and the top of his back.

Sinric moans to the touch, his skin soft and hot under Athelstan's hands.

He kisses down slowly, exploring the breadth of his chest, the hollow of his collarbones. His palms gently skim over Athelstan's nipples.

They harden under his touch, as Athelstan moves slightly in response.

"Anything you want", he whispers.

"All I have ever wanted." Sinric whispers, moving down Athelstan's chest to kiss the peaks of his hardening nipples. "Is you." He laps slowly, blowing cool are over them.