Sinric the Wanderer

"I think Sinric's on to something." He studies the slot for a moment, then tries to get it where it needs to be.

From:

Sinric continues slicing his pear, offering to feed Athelstan a slice as he fiddles with the bottle, the juice of it dripping over his fingers.

From:

"I think I saw people from the future sort of lift their elbows when opening a bottle," Ragnar says, "but it could have been the screwing variety."

From:

"It might have been. But if this is a lever..."

He opens his mouth to let Sinric feed him the pear.

From:

Sinric's touch lingers a moment as he feeds Athelstan the slice of fruit, fingertips brushing Athelstan's lips. He can feel his cheeks flush softly as warm thoughts heat his face.

From:

"If this is a lever, it needs a point of leverage," Ragnar says, helpfully. "To lever the lid off the bottle."

He smiles at Sinric -- it's good to see him getting better and bolder this way, once more.

From:

Athelstan, his mouth full of pear, just nods - with a special smile for Sinric as he sees the beginnings of desire coming back to him.

And then he finds the right angle, and the bottle cap flies off across the room.

From:

Sinric claps happily and chases the little metal cap across the room. "Wonderful. Now show me so I may help next time."

From:

"And me!" Ragnar says, as this seems a prime survival skill for the modern world.

From:

Athelstan finishes his food and laughs affectionately at them both, reaching for the second bottle.

"All right, gather round."

From:

Sinric watches with interest, his shoulder pressing gently against Athelstan's as he leans in to learn. His hand brushes the small of Athelstan's back as he does. He can feel his breath shorten, the need building him with the speed of a spring storm.

From:

Ragnar watches with a wide, anticipatory grin -- both at the ale being freed from the confines of the bottles, and at Sinric getting ready to jump Athelstan's bones.

Just watch and maybe touch, his foot!

From:

Athelstan turns his head to look into Sinric's eyes, having got the idea well enough he can open the second bottle with touch alone.

He's not sure if Sinric is healed enough in body to go very far, and he's going to let Sinric initiate everything that might happen.

From:

Sinric reddens and takes the opened bottle from Athelstan. There is so much heat in him right now, sudden and flushed that he takes the cool ale and steps away, draining half of it in a single draft.

In vino veritas. He almost wishes now he had wine instead. At least it would make it easier to put words to his desire then.

From:

Ragnar watches him, smiling.

"Let me try the third one?" he says to Athelstan.

From:

"Of course."

He beckons Ragnar over, holding out the bottle opener.

From:

Sinric gives them room to continue with the third bottle, busying himself with cheese and apple and letting his hair cover his flushed features.

From:

"Sinric", Athelstan murmurs, paying more attention to him. "If you're ready, you know I would like to kiss you very much."

Nothing more than that, and only that if he's ready.

From:

Ragnar puts the opened on the lid, and levers with a jerk of his elbow.

He does something wrong, though, as a plume of white foam erupts from the bottle as the cap comes off.

"Ooops?" he says, licking some foam off his forefinger.

From:

Athelstan's words make the breath catch in his throat and he turns to face Athelstan, the bottle hanging loosely in his hand.

Words fail him and he swallows to speak -

And then Ragnar's ale spills over his fingers and Sinric can't help but giggle, the spell of overwhelming silence broken by it.

From:

"Don't mind me," Ragnar says, licking foam off the neck of the bottle before taking the top between his lips to suck off even more of the escaping white liquid.

From:

Athelstan turns to look at him and laughs helplessly.

"Ragnar, you're hopeless."

From:

Sinric giggles too but can't help but notice the suggestive way Ragnar's lips grace the lip of the bottle.

Desire colours everything he sees and he sips his drink again, hoping to cool his fever long enough to think straight.

From: