Sinric the Wanderer

Ragnar, big and golden in the middle, paces his thrusts and hip-tilts to both of them, pricks sliding in and out of them like the pistons of a machine from the future.

The new-found clarity enables him to tilt and angle his hips, as Sinric must have that sweet spot inside him as well -- he can have physical pleasure, after all, even if he doesn't dare or wish to peak. Athelstan has given it, so Ragnar will try for it, as well.

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Ragnar's spear thrusts true and Sinric cries out, his mane of gold falling over his shoulder as he arches back. Wrists crossed in front of him as if bound, Sinric writhes, his little snail hardening against the bedding.

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Athelstan reaches past Ragnar with one hand to stroke Sinric's shoulders, the other hand on Ragnar's back to steady himself.

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Ragnar gives a deep sigh of pleasure and starts aiming for that same spot with every thrust, wanting Sinric to have as much as he trusts himself to take.

One day, he will take that sweet little snail into his mouth and bring him to completion, but Sinric must learn to trust his own pleasure and give up control that far -- he must be patient.

And right now, Sinric writhing and crying out is more beautiful than any dance, to Ragnar.

He manages to shift most of his suspended weight on his left arm (and knees, of course) so he can reach around with his right, to try and touch Sinric's breast and nipple on that side.

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Sinric's first instinct is to pull away. This is a first for both Ragnar and Athelstan and he wants to take nothing away from their pleasure.

But the feel strong hands on his breast and the spark inside him with Ragnar's thrusts makes it difficult to focus. He half turns, his back twisting to press into Ragnar's touch, his breathing a shaky moan.

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As far as Athelstan is concerned, Sinric's presence adds to the pleasure, rather than taking anything away. He keeps his hand on Sinric's skin, at the same time meeting Ragnar's rhythm.

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Pleasure is something to give to another without losing it oneself; if done right, everyone involved will gain from it.

Ragnar thrusts into Sinric, aiming well each time, and his finger caress the nipple; at the same time, he is given the same unearthly pleasure from the inside by Athelstan's thrusts.

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The three fold pleasure of their touch, their thrusts and the knowledge they care that he enjoys this drives moans from Sinric.

He reaches a hand back over his shoulder to grasp Athelstan's, their fingers entwined as he rubs himself against the bedding.

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Athelstan brings Sinric's hand to his mouth, brushing over his knuckles and then his palm, without letting up his rhythm,

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In the middle, Ragnar keeps the rhythm steady; Athelstan inside him is still a mind-blowing new experience that gets him to give a little moan with every thrust.

He loves seeing Sinric in the throes of pleasure, though, so aims to keep it coming.

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The feeling is becoming almost too much and Sinric slides his free hand down beneath himself to cup the little snail, his face buried in the bedding with each thrust. His moans become cries now, muffled and high.

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It's a good sign, Athelstan thinks, that Sinric is embracing the pleasure rather than fleeing or being overwhelmed by it.

"Kiss him", he murmurs in Ragnar's ear."

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Still moving smoothly between them, Ragnar bends forwards to do so, kissing Sinric warmly and deeply.

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Sinric whimpers into the kiss, his breath catching and heart racing. "Please!" He doesn't know what he is begging for; release or relief but his body tighten around Ragnar's prick.

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Athelstan strokes his shoulder, moving with smooth and complete confidence inside Ragnar now.

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Ragnar strokes Sinric's breast and keeps thrusting, aiming for that sweet spot each time, especially now that he feel Sinric tighten around him.

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Sinric writhes. He cannot, will not the first of them to fall. He clenches tight and pushes back in an effort to milk Ragnar's release from him.

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Athelstan peers at Sinric, then starts to laugh quietly as he realises what's going on, and joins in the effort to send Ragnar over the edge first.

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"NO!!" Ragnar shouts, when he realises what they are doing; "YES!!!" he shouts, immediately afterwards, as the two of them squeeze and push so inexorably, he spills hotly and copiously into Sinric's hole while clenching powerfully around Athelstan.

He howls, arches, writhes with the pleasure of his double-sided release; but he does manage to put in a few more thrusts to Sinric's sweet spot before he's finished.

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Sinric pants and moans, loving the wet heat of Ragnar filling him. He sighs and lets himself be pressed forward onto the bed as Athelstan chases his own release.

A respite from the intensity of Ragnar's thrusts lets him catch his breath a little at least.

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It's not much longer before Athelstan finds it, and his movements slow as he comes down.

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Ot takes Ragnar a while to finally find his breath again.

"That was..." he says.

Pause. He can't even begin to say what it was.

"Sinric? Did we squash you? You did not..?"

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Sinric chuckles and slides out a little to makes room for them to lay down better. He clenches and groans softly, feeling the heat of Ragnar's release on his thigh. "I'm content. I enjoyed that very much."

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Athelstan withdraws from Ragnar to lie by his side.

"If you're both content, then so am I."

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