into the bath with Athelstan

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Sinric gets up slowly, stretching all of his finely toned dancer's body. He's not doing it on purpose, to excite or tease. It's just the way he is, almost careless in his sensuality.

He offers Athelstan a hand and a kiss before leading him to the bathroom.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and urges him on gently. "Do you like it when he pulls a little? Or when he strokes you softly?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Both." He leans back into Sinric's hands. "I know he doesn't quite understand that side to my desire, though he tries to accommodate me."

[thewidewideworld]

"That it's enjoyable sometimes to feel your lover's need, to feel his lust manifest." He runs his hands through Athelstan's hair, squeezing the shampoo out with a firm touch and close approximation of Ragnar's rough purr.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan blinks slowly.

"That was almost as if he were here. But yes, it is that, and even the - the small pain it brings."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps himself behind Athelstan, rinsing his hair out and starting to work in the conditioner. He keeps his voice pitches low, closer to Ragnar's. "A little pain, to make the pleasure more intense." He purrs again, kissing Athelstan's throat with the slightest brush of his teeth.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan gasps despite himself.

"Yes. Just so."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric wraps Athelstan's hair around his fingers and pulls just a little, exposing Athelstan's neck and biting just a little harder.

His free hand slides down Athelstan's side, resting on his hip with a squeeze. His hands are too small to be Ragnar's but he does his best to demonstrate similar strength.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's close enough, and the name on Athelstan's lips, hardly audible, isn't Sinric's.

He turns his head as Sinric tugs at his hair, his neck bared.

[thewidewideworld]

"Say it." Sinric whispers fiercely, still carrying Ragnar's voice as he bites and sucks, careful not to leave lasting marks.

He lowers his other hand onto the curve Athelstan's rear, massaging the firm globes of his buttocks.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Ragnar", he murmurs, louder now, and lets his eyes close to better sink into the illusion Sinric is creating for him.

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes." He purrs, deep and dark as his hand sweeps closer to his hole. He grips Athelstan's head, turning him the other way so he can molest the other side of his neck.

He lets out that needy groan of Ragnar's. The one he growls when he's deeply horny and barely able to hold himself back. "I want you."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Touch me", Athelstan whispers. "In any way you wish, I am yours."

(The part of him still in reality knows there's one thing Sinric can't give, but there's still all the rest.)

[thewidewideworld]

He lets out another lush-roughened growl and reaches for the oil.

Without much preamble, he pushes two slick fingers into Athelstan, knowing there will be an edge of pain but knowing too that Athelstan needs and wants it.

He works his fingers deep, his other hand finding Athelstan's nipples; squeezing, teasing. "Mine."

[athelstanthescribe]

He gasps and moans, moving against Sinric's hands, pleasure awakening in him the way only Sinric has managed, and that rarely, since his torture.

"Yours", he says again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's fingers find the root of pleasure, stroking and teasing it between short, blunt thrusts as Ragnar would take him in haste and need.

His other hands drifts down after a rough twist of Athelstan's nipples, leaving them aching and hot, bereft of touch. He slips it below the waterline to cup Athelstan's manhood, stroking slowly.

"Always mine. And I will always come for you. No-one will take you from me." Ragnar's voice grows rough, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.

[athelstanthescribe]

Sinric is good at this, though it helps that Athelstan desperately wants Ragnar to be there with him.

"Just - let them - try."

[thewidewideworld]

"I would tear the world apart." Ragnar's voice strains in Athelstan's ear, strong hands working his every pleasure. "If they dare try." He thrusts his fingers hard, adding a third to find Ragnar's width and force. He growls breathlessly as if drawing near to his peak but fighting not to fall to it. "Athelstan! My Athelstan!"

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan thrusts back against him, making small sounds in his desperation to find pleasure.

"My lord..."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric tightens his grip on the base of Athelstan's manhood, working him tight and rough as every thrust of his fingers finds Athelstan's prostate.

Ragnar would never back down, not until Athelstan came apart in his arms. "For me." He growls roughly. "I want your pleasure. Give it to me."

[athelstanthescribe]

He's half-hard, and rising higher, trembling in Sinric's arms.

"I would give you anything."

[thewidewideworld]

"You are everything." Ragnar growls in his neck, kissing up to suck on his earlobe.

Sinric works his thumb against the knot at the base Athelstan's manhood, before stroking his way up to the head. He slows down and works through each point of pleasure he knows to bring someone to full hardness without letting the illusion slip.

"You're my everything."

[athelstanthescribe]

Between Sinric's skilful hands, finding every stimulating nerve, and the illusion of the thing he's wanted so badly for the last few months, Athelstan at last begins to respond.

"As you are mine. I love you."

[thewidewideworld]

"Love you." It's Ragnar's voice, Ragnar's intensity. Ragnar's lust. "Need you. Always yours."

He starts to amp up his thrusts, his strokes. He know more than anything, this release will be cathartic for Athelstan. Something he needs.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan comes slowly to his peak, but he does get there, crying out more loudly than he ever has before.

[thewidewideworld]

And Sinric is patient, willing to hold the illusion for as long as Athelstan needs, as long as it takes.

When his peak comes, Sinric holds him and holds him tight, knowing how powerful and shattering it will be. He leans against the edge of the bath, arms around Athelstan for support. As long as he needs, as long as it takes.