(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

[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.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric feels it too, feels the need he's building.

He sings what he knows best - the moment of penetration. The feeling of being stretched, filled, pulled apart and made whole again. The line of pleasure and pain sublimating into pure pleasure as thrusts begin. The joy and violence of two bodies coming together, two beings lost in mutual desire.

When there is nothing but this. Nothing but the blazing joy of sharing this.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

ragnar is gasping now, and writhing.

[thewidewideworld]

He sings the rushing wave of completion, the tight coil in one's core. The pleasure of the brink of the moment just before.

Sinric's peek has always been a powerful thing, intense almost to the point of being painful. He sings it so, with all his heart. The harsh, almost brutal joy that rocks his entire being. He sings it to Ragnar, holding nothing back.

He sings Ragnar to the very brink; the wondrous, terrible knife's edge.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar feels it just as Sinric feels it, a peak much brighter and sharper than anything he is used to, and as he spreads his legs and spills his seed, his moan of pleasure rises to a keen, rough in counterpoint to Sinric's song.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric breaks off, panting and rough. His own peak is close but not quite there. lingering on the edge of being as he leans in to kiss Ragnar passionately.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar kisses him back, opening his eyes.

Then, he turns around on the bed to loosen Sinric's clothes and bury his face in his crotch.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives a yelp of surprise that collapses into a moan. He's so close to the edge, trembling with need. "Ragnar!"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar finds what he was looking for, and takes the little pricklet in his mouth.

[thewidewideworld]

That's all it takes to drive Sinric over the edge, crying out so sweetly. His voice, rough in passion echoes under the roof, making the sound unearthly and wonderful.

He catches hold of Ragnar to keep himself from falling, so shattered by his release.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

After a bit, Ragnar lifts his head, grins, and licks his lips.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives a small mew and lets himself fall down next to Ragnar, upside down from him. He gives Ragnar a little smile and kisses him, enjoying the inverted position and the taste of himself on Ragnar's lips. "That magic appears to be rather potent." He whispers, still breathless and shaky.