[ The thought that this could be about him hadn't crossed Athelstan's mind. In his own mind, this is all about Ragnar. There didn't seem to him a reason to be sexual unless it is for Ragnar. In a twisted way his previous encounters had been practices to try and understand as if there was that inevitable moment where he would be with him. His breath hitched as Ragnar bit his thigh, the skin sensitive and it made his cock jump slightly, his teeth digging into his bottom lip without a thought.
Ragnar's words made him flush again, turning his head to the side to look away from him, embarrassed more by the verbal praise even then than being naked and exposed to him this way.
There's a soft whimper as the other starts to tease his cock, a tremble through his lower body at the urge to move his hips but the other's hand kept him still as much as his own will did. It's not until the Viking swallows him that he makes another sound, a quite groan and he watches Ragnar. The sight is sinful but... wonderful at the same time.
Later, he'd sketch something like this, flushing all the while certainly.
Athelstan almost forgot what else Ragnar is intending to do, focused on his mouth, quiet sounds of pleasure falling from his lips and he barely tries to contain them anymore as more trembles settle in his thighs from the strain of not moving though his body instinctively aches to. But the moment his finger teases the ring of muscle he stills, his inhaling sharply, not in apprehension but because the touch feels good and had managed to catch him off guard even though he knew it had been coming.
His teeth dig into his lip a little more as he presses in, the feeling awkward but not nearly as much as it had been the first time he'd felt a finger inside of him. He thought he knew what to expect but the way Ragnar touches him, he lets out a whimper. As his finger presses deeper and the other's head is still moving on his cock and then they pick up in their rhythm his whimpers turn into moans.
Soon it's difficult to hold himself up to watch anymore and his upper half is flat on the bed, hands grasping at the furs and he's desperately trying not to move his hips both into Ragnar's finger and his mouth. He doesn't know how he keeps from coming other than focusing intently on not giving in as difficult as it is. ]
Ragnar, please [ The monk moans and it's wanton and later he'd be embarrassed and thankful that Gyda isn't home. ]
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Ragnar's words made him flush again, turning his head to the side to look away from him, embarrassed more by the verbal praise even then than being naked and exposed to him this way.
There's a soft whimper as the other starts to tease his cock, a tremble through his lower body at the urge to move his hips but the other's hand kept him still as much as his own will did. It's not until the Viking swallows him that he makes another sound, a quite groan and he watches Ragnar. The sight is sinful but... wonderful at the same time.
Later, he'd sketch something like this, flushing all the while certainly.
Athelstan almost forgot what else Ragnar is intending to do, focused on his mouth, quiet sounds of pleasure falling from his lips and he barely tries to contain them anymore as more trembles settle in his thighs from the strain of not moving though his body instinctively aches to. But the moment his finger teases the ring of muscle he stills, his inhaling sharply, not in apprehension but because the touch feels good and had managed to catch him off guard even though he knew it had been coming.
His teeth dig into his lip a little more as he presses in, the feeling awkward but not nearly as much as it had been the first time he'd felt a finger inside of him. He thought he knew what to expect but the way Ragnar touches him, he lets out a whimper. As his finger presses deeper and the other's head is still moving on his cock and then they pick up in their rhythm his whimpers turn into moans.
Soon it's difficult to hold himself up to watch anymore and his upper half is flat on the bed, hands grasping at the furs and he's desperately trying not to move his hips both into Ragnar's finger and his mouth. He doesn't know how he keeps from coming other than focusing intently on not giving in as difficult as it is. ]
Ragnar, please [ The monk moans and it's wanton and later he'd be embarrassed and thankful that Gyda isn't home. ]