(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Sinric can't bring himself to let go of Ragnar's hand all the way to their rooms. He hesitates a moment before gently pulling Ragnar towards his own rooms. They don't feel right any more, like clothes that no longer fit but it feels better than the empty place where Athelstan isn't.

But then he wonders if Ragnar would prefer his own bed, to warm the sheets left cold by Athelstan's absence with better memories.

The uncertainty makes him hesitate, biting his lip.

Comments

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes, that was strange," Ragnar agrees. "But I like it!"

[thewidewideworld]

"It takes some getting use to." Sinric nods, stepping back to Ragnar. His cheeks are flushed pink with the joy of singing and the way the room sounds.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"The room is made for music?" Ragnar guesses.

[thewidewideworld]

"So it would seem." Sinric smiles. He sings a simple set of scales, moving from one arched space to the next to see how the quality of the sound changes.

The acoustic around the bed are marvelous!

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"They have made you a bedroom to sing in!" Ragnar says. "Your cries of pleasure will echo as sweetly as song."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs. "I hadn't really thought of that." He lets himself fall gracefully onto the bed, arms akimbo and sings a series of high, sweet notes. And almost blushes at the way they resound. Pleasure on this bed is going to be very... expressive.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"You will sing your lovers to their climax," Ragnar says, hoping that Athelstan will be among those, too.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hesitates, biting his lip. "I may... I may actually be able to do that now." He admits softly.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Make a man feel pleasure just with song?" Ragnar says, intrigued.

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes. At least I think so." Sinric answers softly. "Some of the volva, they taught me their singing magic. The songs to calm pain or bring sleep. There were other songs - songs to turn the eyes of the gods, or sing a storm to sleep. I could feel... the power in them. That is wasn't the song, it was the singer. I think I have that power in me." He shoots Ragnar a self-deprecating smile. "And what was I made for, if not pleasure."

"But I don't think I could do it to someone who didn't want to feel pleasure. I don't think I have it in me to force myself past someone's will. It's not my nature."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"No," Ragnar says. "But you could experiment on me?"

No, he wouldn't want to try and make Athelstan feel pleasure without him asking for it, either.

[thewidewideworld]

"If you want to. If you trust me to?" He can see what Ragnar desires. He's not sure Athelstan would be so open to the idea and Sinric is not sure he trusts his own skills enough to try it, given Athelstan's fragile state.

But Ragnar, yes. That he can do. Or at least try. He can feel the shape of the song, feel the power at the tips of his fingers.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I am curious!" Ragnar declares, stating the painfully obvious.

[thewidewideworld]

"As am I." Sinric confesses, stepping closer to Ragnar to brush a soft hand over his cheek. "Undress for me. And lay on the bed. We'll find out together."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar takes off his clothes, stretches, and lies down on the bed, on his back, arms and legs wide.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sheds only his slippers and his outer robe, kneeling dressed at the head of the bed so Ragnar's head rested on his knees.

"I wonder, may I bind your eyes? So you may focus on the sound of my song?" There's a soft silk sash hanging from one corner of the bed. Sinric passes it through his fingers, feeling the silk's cool smoothness.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes, go ahead," Ragnar says, already closing his eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric folds the soft silk, tying it gently around Ragnar's eyes.

Settling back, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on the hollows of Ragnar's collarbone, Sinric begins to sing.

Softly at first, in sweet and gentle tones he sing whispering caresses, fleeting kisses, the brush of skin on skin.

Unseen by Ragnar, the net of gold under his skin glows softly, pulsing with his heartbeat. Curve of the roof adds and echoes, making the sound feel close and intimate.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar relaxes under the gentle touch, his limbs slack, all ears.

Then, he moves his neck and shoulders as if stretching in pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps singing the soft touches, singing lingering caresses that drift intimately over the body. He sings kisses, fleeting at first but growing bolder, more confident. He sings softly sighs, half bitten off moans.

His own eyes closed and still clothed, he feel his own body stir with his song.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar feels the pleasure flood his body, his chest flushing right up to his hardening nipples, and gives a low moan as those unseen touches flutter over his skin.

[thewidewideworld]

His song becomes more needy, more breathless as he sing growing want and hunger. Deep kisses and firm touches that explore and claim. He sings the feeling of having a lover over him, the weight and heat of being held, of being craved.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar spreads his legs, and moans, excitement visibly rising.

[thewidewideworld]

He sings passionate heat, frantic kisses. He sings the tangle of clothing and the rush and heat of skin. He sings that first sudden wave of pure pleasure, of elation as that place of pleasure is touched - be it breasts or manhood or other parts. That moment that makes you catch and convolve. The rush of fanned flame, catching and igniting.

His fingers tighten on Ragnar's shoulder, his own desire mounting.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar moans loudly in counterpoint, and thrusts up his hips.