Sinric the Wanderer

"How could I-" He breaks off with a moan, his voice high and breathless, "forget. You are... so much to me!" It comes out as a gasp. "If the door allows, I will take you with me on such adventures."

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"And we'll go with you gladly." He thrusts into Sinric, past Ragnar's hand. "There's so much I want to see."

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Ragnar sucks more strongly, hungrily even, at that little prick, loving the feeling of it expanding in his mouth.

The pressure of his fingers grows stronger as well, at both of them.

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Sinric gasps and without thinking, tilts his hips up so Athelstan's thrusts meet him just so. He catches hold of one of Athelstan's hands, guiding it to his breast and sinking into the feeling.

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Athelstan follows his wishes, stroking his breast with fingers and thumb and even pinching very gently.

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Ragnar's hips start moving as if on their own, their pleasure taking hold of him as well, simply from experiencing it.

His hand and mouth speed up a little, too.

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Sinric feels himself being overwhelmed, feels the high rise within him. He trembles, his breath coming in short gasps. "I fall." He moans in Greek, broken by pleasured sobs as the feeling overtakes him and he spends himself into Ragnar's mouth.

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Athelstan holds him, thrusting harder and faster now Sinric's found his completion, until he comes to his own.

"Fall safely", he murmurs in the same language, "where we love you."

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Ragnar suckles Sinric right through his orgasm, tasting his spent and swallowing what little there is to it, until Sinric's pleasure is truly over.

His own hips stutter against the fur on the bed, aroused almost beyond control at witnessing both of the others find their peaks so soon after each other.

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Athelstan's words tear a grateful sob from him as he feels Athelstan's release fill him.

He feels Ragnar rut against the bed, even through the hazy of his high. "My mouth." He begs hoarsely. "I would taste you."

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"It's your turn", Athelstan says to Ragnar, smiling as he withdraws from Sinric without taking his hands or mouth from his skin.

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Ragnar kneels up, his prick very red and ready, hard and springy and glistening generously at the top, and pulls Sinric's upper body into his lap so he can taste him at will.

He shudders, very close and very ready, and smiles at Athelstan.

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Sinric knows it will take no great skill to bring Ragnar over the edge, and all but falls onto him. His small mouth, hot lips embrace Ragnar's prick, taking him to the root at once, his tongue pressing and curling.

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Athelstan stretches out next to Sinric, dropping kisses on his skin with no urgency now.

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"Unfair!" Ragnar declares as Sinric's skills assault his prick from all directions; and yes, it doesn't take more than that.

With a great shout, he spills himself into Sinric's ready mouth, in several great spurts.

He throws his head back and gives a series of long moans as the peak of his pleasure lasts through several heartbeats before abating.

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Even as Sinric swallows and swallows, it's too much and Ragnar's release spills over his lips and onto his chin and throat. He moans, drinking down the bitter salt of him gladly, looking like a debauched angel.

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He looks beautiful in his debauchery, and Athelstan leans back to just look at him for a long moment.

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Ragnar lies down beside them now, and starts leisurely licking his own seed off Sinric's throat, and face.

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The little laps makes him moan and shiver, swallowing again. His slender adam's apple dancing under Ragnar's mouth.

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Athelstan lifts a hand to stroke Sinric's throat, his fingers brushing Ragnar's lips in the process.

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Ragnar positively purrs with contentment at touching both of them; a languid hand stretches out to stroke Athelstan's hips.

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