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Sinric stops to talk to a rat on the way up, drawing Ragnar up to his room.

He stops as he draws Ragnar through the door, closing it behind them and kneels to take off Ragnar's boots. Tending Ragnar with the gentle care he once tended Constantine.

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Ragnar chuckles around Sinric's small manhood, and crooks his finger inside him.

That sends another spark of sharp-edged pleasure through him, his little manhood twitching against Ragnar's tongue. "Oh yes. Just so."

Ragnar does it again.

"Yes! Harder!" Sinric orders, pinching his nipples hot and red as he bucks into Ragnar's mouth. He doesn't usually reach the edge this fast but Ragnar knows how to play him perfectly.

Ragnar'S finger pushes back in, right where it feels best, and his tongue massages the underside of that eager little snail.

Sinric's voice comes at hot little gasps, half whimpering. "There! So near!" But the words are barely out before he's spilling warmly over Ragnar's tongue.

Ragnar keeps sucking, and swallowing, and moving his finger until he has drunk it all down.

Sinric shakes as he comes down, sensitive and blown. It never ceases to hit him so hard, so deep. He falls forward, hand braced against the head of the bed, his little manhood limp in Ragnar's mouth.

Ragnar lets go of it and smiles up into Sinric's eyes.

Sinric moved down to kiss him, chasing the taste of himself on Ragnar's swollen lips. He makes a soft, pleased sound, running a hand down Ragnar's chest and stomach to grip his manhood once more. "Shall I bring you to your fall? You've more than earned that reward."

"Yes," Ragnar pants, "yes please, sweet Sinric!"

"Would you have me ride you?" He asks, stroking Ragnar agonisingly slow. "Or would you have me on my knees, gripping the bedhead; deep and carnal?"

"Ride me," Ragnar moans, "ride me, have me, please!"

Sinric shift down and mounts Ragnar, still tight and hot. He drives himself down onto Ragnar's manhood with a rough moan. He wastes no time, rising on his thighs to take him again with the hot slap of flesh.

"Yes!" Ragnar gasps; and then he gasps and moans and babbles as Sinric rides him, up and down, with that sweet obscene noise.

Sinric rides him hard and rough, pinning Ragnar's hands. His eyes heavy with determination to make Ragnar cry with pleasure.

At the moment, he merely whimpers and begs.

Perfect! Sinric works his inner muscles to keep Ragnar on edge as long as he can, keeping him moaning as long as he can.

Ragnar is babbling and moaning and gasping and panting, trying to move, flailing towards Sinric in desperation.

"Beg me." Sinric purrs, kissing Ragnar's throat. "Beg me to give you what you want."

"Please, Sinric, please let me, please!" Ragnar babbles, shameless and needy.

Sinric leans in, nuzzling Ragnar's throat, kissing up to his ear to whispers softly. "Fall. Fall for me, Ragnar." He spreads his hand over Ragnar's chest, sharing a gentle wave of pleasure.

Ragnar thrashes, and flails, and shouts, then spills hotly into Sinric.

Sinric milks him through it, drawing every ounce of pleasure. He smiles down on at Ragnar, his expression wolfish and warm. "You're very beautiful in your pleasure."

Ragnar breathes heavily, looking up at Sinric, panting wordlessly.