(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric leads Athelstan back to their room, stopping at the bar to have a quiet word with the bar before they go. When they arrive in their rooms, the bed has been spread with a large, warm bear-fur and draped with silk. There are candles on the table, at bedside, on the windowsill, bathing the room in soft, warm light.

Sinric smiles and leads Athelstan towards the bed. "This night is for you, beloved Athelstan. We'll go only as far as you're ready for."

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"Sinric." He presses his face into Sinric's shoulder. "How good you are."

[thewidewideworld]

"As you are to me." Sinric whispers, kissing the top of Athelstan's head. "But let me wash the oil from your skin before you rest."

He doesn't move away until Athelstan is ready to let him.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is completely drained, his touch weak, and he lets Sinric go.

"All right."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric bounces to the bathroom on swift feet, returning a moment later with a bowl of hot water and several cloths. He sits at Athelstan's side, wiping his legs and flanks down with the hot towels, kissing the clean skin in passing. He has a body slave's practiced hand at this, making Athelstan feel clean and refreshed.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan lies still, just feeling.

"One day", he whispers, "I'll be your lover again as I was. Not this broken man."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans in to press a kiss to Athelstan's cheek. "You are my lover, and my beloved, whether you are ready to share pleasure or not. That doesn't change who we are to each other."

[athelstanthescribe]

He's shivering as Sinric touches him, but it's more complete exhaustion bringing cold with it than anything.

"When I feel hands on me, even yours, even Ragnar's... I don't pull away, because I love and trust you both entirely, but... it's as if I feel theirs again."

Not really conducive to arousal.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric puts out all but the nearesr candels as he puts the clothes away. He leaves his linen dress on as he slides into bed next to Athelstan, pulling the blankets and furs up around them both.

"I understand," he breathes, loud enough only to be heard by them. "I still can't bear to be touch from behind without warning. Or have hands near my throat. They leave... shadows on us, that heal slower than the bruises and scars. But they do heal in time."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I hope so", he murmurs, looking into Sinric's eyes. "With time and care."

[thewidewideworld]

"I am proof of it." He assures softly.

"And you will have all the care I can give you. And all the time the world will allow." He promises, entwining his fingers with Athelstan's.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Will you try to explain to Ragnar, should I ever flinch away from his touch? If I can't explain myself?"

[thewidewideworld]

"If you need me to." Sinric promises. "He understood with me, I'm sure he will understand with you." Even if Sinric had to have words with Ragnar. Harsh words.

[athelstanthescribe]

"He hasn't known me as fragile", Athelstan says quietly. "Even when I was his slave and he had a knife at my neck - to cut the rope around it - he never saw me flinch."

[thewidewideworld]

"Athelstan, look at me." Sirnic's voice has a hard edge to it. An edge that comes from his own history. "You may be fragile, you may be bruised, and you may be battered. But you are not broken. And nor am I. There is no weakness in needing time to heal."

"And if Ragnar doesn't understand that, I will explain it to him."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Thank you", he says softly. "I don't want him to be hurt when he's done nothing wrong, and it's not his fault if I flinch."

[thewidewideworld]

"You have my word I'll make him understand. But he loves you and there is nothing he would not do to help you, including restraining himself."

[athelstanthescribe]

"That I know." His voice is still soft and loving. "He just may need your advice."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and cuddles close, "Then he'll have it."

[athelstanthescribe]

This soft and gentle touch is easy to take, and he can force away the violence of memory.

Running out of words, he leans in to kiss Sinric instead.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs warmly, keeping the kiss light. He brushes his fingers very gently over Athelstan's hand, staying away from his wounds.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan does deepen it a little, some far down inconsolable part of him afraid of disappointing Sinric for all the reassurances.

"If I should dream", he murmurs, "don't let me strike you in my thrashing. I've been told I did in the fever, when the palace servants tried to restrain me."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps the kiss light, but enjoys whatever Athelstan wants or needs. Or is willing to share.

"I'll be careful." Sinric promises, stroking back Athelstan's hair. "And if you want me to, I'll sing you back to sleep."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Please." He manages some kind of smile. "You soothe me so well."

[thewidewideworld]

"What suit of song would you like?" He asks softly, settling himself ready to sing.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Do you know any lullabies?"

It's childish, perhaps, but there's only Sinric to hear him.