It'd been a long night. He'd been intimate with Ragnar and then that stupid message from Dodger and well... that had been a mess and not at all gone like he'd wanted. He came home and tried to wash away the evidence but the feeling of the sin and the guilt that was somehow morphing into the feeling that Ragnar had sanctioned it without even talking to him. If he were being logical he'd have known better.
But he couldn't make himself go back to their bed, he ends up drinking some and then going out to his art room. He sketches and he dozes there. He tries to pray but it feels wrong. He actually takes his cross off for a short time but not long before it's back on again.
He's exhausted and troubled and the sketch he's working on is Christ on the cross and crows roosting on it. Again, it's sacrilegious in a way but somehow feels right.
Ragnar had been soundly asleep when Athelstan had gotten the message. He'd actually had a long couple of days with the Guard and the whole situation with Athelstan and Ivar and Dodger still weighed heavily on him. The combination was draining enough that if he was able to nod off, his body would greedily force him to get as much sleep as possible. Though he didn't wake up when Athelstan quietly slipped out of bed and left the house, strange dreams put him on edge enough so that when a strong wind rattled the bedroom window, he jolted away.
It was still dark and by the heavy stillness and silence, his guess was that it was early morning. Grumbling a little, he went to roll over to tangle up with Athelstan and found the bed empty and cold. He sat up a little, frowning as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.
"Athelstan?" He said the monk's name softly, not sure what he was expecting. The man obviously wasn't there. He pulled on a tunic and pulled one of the blankets off the bed to wrap around him as he wandered out of their room. The house felt so still. Poking his head in to check on his daughter first, he then made his way down the stairs. No lights on. No Athelstan.
He forced himself to think rationally and swallow down the rising panic as he quietly opened and closed the back door, going outside barefoot and padding his way across the grass to Athelstan's art shack. Was there a light on? It was difficult to tell.
He eased the door open, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light, and felt a wave of relief.
"What are doing?" He asked groggily, stepping inside to get out of the early morning chill, closing the door behind him. How long had he been out here sketching?
Athelstan felt his shoulders rise slightly when he heard Ragnar. He didnt stop what he was doing, though the empty hand rubbed his forehead.
"Sketching," he answers quietly as if Ragnar couldnt see the and West for himself. He doesnt know why ragnar is awake so early. Its still a while before athelstan would need to get breakfast started and ragnar rarely was awake before him.
Athelstan shrugs Ragnar's hand off his shoulder, his body tensing. The build up of his own feelings and insecurities hed been hiding culminating in a quiet anger even if mostly at himself. He looked down at his sketch.
He doesnt answer, still moving the pencil even though he can't think anymore. He wants to lean into ragnar but Dodgers voice is still in his head.
Brow furrowing, he reeled back a little at the frosty response, confused and quickly feeling more grumpy about all of this. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the back of Athelstan's head for a moment before putting his hand down, fingers spread, on top of the sketch to keep Athelstan from continuing.
"I asked you something, priest. Are you really just going to ignore me? Like a petulant child?" Seriously?
Athelstan could feel the glare and it almost broke him. He stares at the hand that covered his sketch, the pencil dropping and his emotions are warring with each other for which one would dominate. His throat feels tight.
"What is so wrong with me that you won't have sex with me? What am I missing that Dodger has?" He starts softly but he doesnt give ragnar a chance to answer. The encounter with dodger had left him feeling raw and exposed in a way that's anything but pleasant mentally.
"How could you give him leave to have me again?" Because thats what dodgers words had sounded like to him. The anger was mixing with the sadness more heavily now and he doesnt turn to look at Ragnar. "Why am I not good enough? Why am I not enough?"
He moved to lean his hip against a desk as he dropped his hand away from the sketchbook, hugging it closer around himself despite not feeling cold.
Athelstan's initial question was met with an expression of absolute annoyance and disbelief, mouth opening to retort, but Athelstan continued. Dodger. Again. He rolled his eyes.
And then the conversation got very, very confusing and that confusion was written clearly across his face.
"...." He was speechless, not even sure where to start. More than once, he breathed in with every intention to say something, only to exhale, exasperated at himself and overwhelmed.
"... What? What are you talking about? We... we have had sex... And what... What do you mean about Dodger? I don't..." He turned his hands, palms out helplessly.
Athelstan hasn't really completely recovered from whatever Dodger's door trap had done to him. The main affects are gone but how he had felt during it still had him reeling not to mention what had actually happened with Dodger. He was confused and hurt by Ragnar's response. It isn't the most logical response but Athelstan isn't in a logical frame of mind in the least anymore.
Maybe he's not making much sense. "We have been intimate but you have never... I wanted you to..." the words don't seem to want to come out and he deflates feeling a bit helpless that he can't make himself explain in further detail -- frustrated that Ragnar doesn't understand what he means.
"Dodger... he... made it seem like you gave him permission to fuck me again," Athelstan murmurs and the words are easier in that sense. He felt his eyes burn and he kept his face tilted away from Ragnar's eyes so he wouldn't see. "He... He asked me to come over tonight. I wanted to kill him and I tried," he looks down at his wrist where he'd been burned for the attempt.
"I..." his words faltered. "He didn't stop."
It's not the most coherent retelling of the night in the least or of his feelings that had built up even before the night. He's confused and the feelings of insecurity and inadequacy are hard to articulate, to allow himself to do so.
There were two drastically different issues going on here and either one of them on its own would have been a handful, but both at once made the conversation feel impossible.
"Wait. Stop. Let me..." He shut his eyes for a moment, in an attempt to think clearer, "We... can talk about the first thing. In fact, I am very happy to. But... You are saying..."
He wet his lips and took a step closer, slowly crouching in front of Athelstan so he was looking up at him, his hand lightly resting on the very edge of his knee.
"Athelstan..." He's still so confused and trying very, very hard not to grab an axe and leave for Dodger's immediately. First things first. "I never.... Dodger and I have never spoken about you. Is that... what he told you? That I said he should..."
He bit his lip, his hands shaking ever so slightly from the rage he was feeling. Athelstan was more important right now, though. Dodger wasn't going anywhere. That could wait.
"Did you tell him to stop?" There was no judgment or suspicion in his tone, he just needed to know all the facts because apparently Athelstan suddenly assumed people could read his mind when it came to what he wanted in bed.
Athelstan finds it hard to hide his face once Ragnar is crouching down. he doesn't try and stop him from touching him this time, though the temptation had sprung up, one that he didn't really understand because he also just wanted to curl himself into Ragnar's arms and forget everything else. He swallows heavily, his hands clasped together in his lap then, not fidgeting with his bracelet, or the crucifix or keeping busy with the sketching.
"It sounded like it..." Athelstan started but Dodger had never said those words specifically. So much of what had been said seems nebulous now at best but he knows how the words had made him feel. It's not much help. But the words are harder to perceive that way when faced with Ragnar's voice and presence.
Athelstan inhaled sharply at the question. "Not at first," he says, frowning. "I never said stop. I told him to get off but he said no, that I already had my chance to leave. And I... it's my fault," Dodger had said it clearly enough, that if he stayed that whatever happened it's on Athelstan. He should have left. Why didn't he leave? "I didn't leave."
"Why.... would you think I would ever...?" He sunk down a little, easing down onto his knees from the crouch. Why did it feel like he needed a drink in order to understand what Athelstan was trying to tell him... or maybe it was the monk who could use the drink.
"Telling him to get off you is the same as telling him to stop, Athelstan. And he should have listened," He said softly, his tone ripe with disappointment. He knew Ivar hated Dodger, but the reasons he'd given hadn't really mattered much to Ragnar and Dodger had always been decent to him. But this... Was this who he truly was?
"Are you alright?" He asked, squeezing some of the fabric of Athelstan's pants in his hands nervously where his hand rested on his knee. He mostly meant physically because, obviously, he wasn't alright emotionally or mentally at the moment.
Athelstan didn't know how to answer because it rationally doesn't make sense. It hadn't when he'd first heard it and yet... He keeps his hands clasped tight and he's staring down at Ragnar's hand on his pants, still feeling uneasy.
"Yes," Athelstan says, at least knowing what Ragnar is really asking. Dodger hadn't been rough even when he wouldn't stop. He bit his lip. "He warned me, it was my fault," Athelstan says quietly.
"Please don't leave," he adds, his voice a bit more desperate than he wanted to sound. He'd been avoiding Ragnar, the misunderstanding and anger and pain all clouding things but now all he knew is he didn't want Ragnar to leave him.
"... What was your fault?" He looked up at Athelstan, clearly confused. Was there some third thing that was on his mind somewhere? When it came to guilt and Athelstan, Ragnar had learned it could be practically anything.
"What? Leave? Athelstan... why would I leave?" He shook his head and slowly straightened a bit so he could put a hand around the back of Athelstan's neck, guiding him a little closer so he could press their foreheads together while he still knelt, "I am not leaving. I am not."
Athelstan hadn't really changed subjects. He still meant the sex, meant Dodger not stopping. "Dodger," he sighs. That had all been his fault. "All of it was my fault, Ragnar."
He doesn't know why Ragnar would leave. But a few options pop into his mind, that he's damaged now somehow or undesirable or more pertinent that Ragnar is angry at him or at Dodger and would leave for that. It is both an immediate and long term concern even more than he's letting himself focus on.
The monk lets Ragnar pull him closer, their foreheads pressing together and it's comforting. Athelstan lets out an unsteady breath and he closes his eyes because he's too close to tears again and he doesn't want to appear even weaker. he hasn't felt this weak in so long. He'd been powerless in attacking Dodger and even more so when he was under him and couldn't make him even budge an inch.
"You did nothing wrong," He said softly, still not quite sure what Athelstan thought was his fault, "He should not have done what he did. Not to you, not to anyone."
Or maybe... Was Athelstan feeling guilty simply for sleeping with him?
"You know I would never... never fault you for finding pleasure wherever you wished. You afford me that luxury, and I you," He mumbled reassuringly, "I know you say you do not seek it out, but it is fine. If you do, it is fine."
Now, he needed to try to figure out how Athelstan went from going to kill Dodger to sleeping with him, albeit unwillingly at some point in the evening... for the second time.
It's true that Athelstan felt guilty for sleeping with Dodger in the first place. Both times. The words both comfort and hurt at the same time. "I do not want anyone but you," Athelstan whispers and he knows that it must look otherwise. He feels the urge to pull away from Ragnar but he pushes it to the side. "The first time... the drink aside... I wanted...I just wanted to learn so I could know what to expect and I could...I could please you." he'd been embarrassed when he'd come to early, when he hadn't even been able to help Ragnar get off properly.
"And this time, I thought...I was stupid," he finally assesses.
Ragnar eased back to kneel in front of Athelstan again, his hand still on his knee. He just needed to see Athelstan like maybe seeing his face as he spoke would somehow make any of this make more sense.
He didn't argue with Athelstan's claim, though part of him, the stubborn little shit voice in his head wanted to mention Judith and point to Dodger. He was of the opinion that Athelstan would like to believe he didn't want anyone else and maybe, ninety-eight percent of the time, that was true, but sometimes those chance encounters where sparks just flew were difficult to say no to. Ragnar knew Athelstan wouldn't hear it though.
His brow furrowed at Athelstan's reasoning.
"But... Was I not... Have I not been... patient enough with you? Have I not... been showing you thing slowly? Introducing you to more and more?" He opened his mouth again and couldn't help but stop and exhale something almost like a laugh at how absurd all of this seemed, "Athelstan... I knew exactly who you were when... when we started. Why would you think any of that would matter? I did not expect for you to..."
He stopped, pausing, looking down, "If all you ever allowed me to do was... kiss you. Or sleep next to you... It would have been more been more than enough. Because it is you. I wanted you. Not," He shrugged his shoulders, "Sex. I have always just wanted you."
It was a raw truth, Ragnar almost looked nervous, pleading, scared that he'd laid himself so bare, that he'd made himself so vulnerable. But it was Athelstan. And he trusted him. With his life and his heart.
Athelstan didn't look away from Ragnar and at least for now he didn't feel like he was on the verge of crying again. Ragnar often says a lot without always saying very much -- but this time is very different. He stays quiet as Ragnar speaks, waiting until he believes him to be done. He reaches for his hand, holding it in both of his know and then pulling it to his lips.
He exhales softly against his hand, his eyes on Ragnar's face. He loves him so much that he doesn't know what to do with all of it sometimes.
"Ragnar, you... you've been perfect," Athelstan whispers and it's true. Ragnar has been a good friend and a good lover. The things that are wrong are because of Athelstan's own insecurities. It'd never been anything that Ragnar had said or done. "I wanted to be good. I've wanted to be worth it, all the time I made you wait," he whispers, all the time that Ragnar hasn't waited. "I didn't want to disappoint you."
He squeezes Ragnar's hand. "You've had me, Ragnar, even before you've known it. You've had my heart and my soul."
Athelstan lowers his hand. "I'm sorry I'm so foolish," he can't help but apologize despite the last time he had causing arguments. "I've been so afraid that I wouldn't be able to satisfy you and then... with...when I heard Ivar," he tries to explain but it feels a bit unimportant. "I felt like I was not good enough, that I wasn't enough."
He says it in past tense as if the insecurities aren't still there.
He watched silently as Athelstan brought his hand to his mouth to brush his lips over his skin. Turning it slightly to slip free of Athelstan's hands, he reached out to brush his fingers over Athelstan's cheek to cup his face, the tips of his fingers brushing the short, shaved sides of his hair.
Ragnar kept his gaze locked with Athelstan's, lips pressing into a flat line subtly when Athelstan assures him that he'd been perfect, something he doubted since Athelstan had been very obviously unhappy with him. He exhaled audibly, not realizing he'd been holding his breath as Athelstan spoke, and shook his head.
"There is no way you could ever disappoint me, Athelstan," He said it like a promise.
His eyes unfocused, falling idly to Athelstan's shirt as he tried to process everything.
"Is that why... you asked about sex? You do not consider the things we have done together to be sex?" Ragnar wasn't exactly walking on eggshells but the way he spoke made it clear that he'd chosen his words carefully.
Athelstan panics for a brief moment when Ragnar's hand slips from his, but the touch that followed has the panic subsiding quickly. He leans into the gentle touch, watching Ragnar's face even as he's still talking. When Ragnar replies, Athelstan's eyes drop because it's hard to believe. Athelstan feels like there are so many things he's not good at, or not good enough at that he may never become better at. Not just sex, other things as well.
He'll always be torn between two worlds, two beliefs even though he is held together by his love for Ragnar in a way. He wishes that he could fully commit to Ragnar's ways as much as he could commit to Ragnar. He looked back up at Ragnar at the question, but he isn't really looking at him as he spoke.
The question confuses him for a moment. "It's different, isn't it?" he questions, and he feels he's done or said something wrong. "When I say sex I mean," he wanted to say 'you know what I mean' but clearly Ragnar did not.
"You have never been inside me," the words were flustering to say and he looks down at his hands that are once again clasped tight in his lap. "I love what we've done together, Ragnar," he says sincerely then, confused. "But I can't understand why you do not want to be with me that way. Haven't you with..." he cut himself off there.
Athelstan would recognize the expression, or complete lack thereof, on Ragnar's face. It was the look he got when he was feeling an array of emotions and wanted to keep them all to himself, a carefully crafted and maintained mask that gave nothing away. Ragnar remained stone-faced until Athelstan trailed off.
"You know," He started, though Athelstan obviously did not know, "It would still be sex even if we never did that."
He leaned back a bit, looking off to Athelstan's right at nothing in particular and scratched his fingers through his beard with his free hand. He forced himself to go in a different direction with the conversation.
"I did not want... to overwhelm you. Or, worse, go too quickly and have you not enjoy yourself because I could not be patient," His eyes met Athelstan's again, but his brow furrowed slightly, "With who?"
Athelstan finds that he does not like that expression on Ragnar's face just now. He wants to shake it away but he doesn't reach out to touch him, still watching him carefully, each movement, every slight movement in his face. He feels a bit humiliated all over again but it's not Ragnar's fault. He finally drops his gaze before Ragnar continued speaking.
"Do you not trust me to tell you if I'm overwhelmed, if it's too much?" Athelstan asks, looking up at him again. In honesty, it's probably fair that Ragnar might not trust him to do so, especially now.
"Athelstan. You did not tell me it was what you wanted and you went to some stranger to 'learn'- Did you not just say-" He started to retort with a flare of frustration, but forced himself to stop mid-sentence, bowing his head and squeezing his free hand into a fist for a moment to regain his composure. He exhaled slowly, unfisting his hand.
He was trying. He really, really was.
He tilted his head back, forcing himself to look Athelstan in the eyes as he spoke, tone strained, but calm.
"None of that matters though. It is done. And now I know. That that is what you expect of me in bed," His tone pulls slightly as he fights the urge to sound even sassier, "And, no. I have never fucked Dodger. Not like that. Does that, at least, make you happy?"
Athelstan inhaled sharply at Ragnar's reply and he does his best to school his face to not show the way it had upset him. It takes a moment for him to be willing to look directly at Ragnar again. It doesn't become any easier to hold his gaze when he keeps talking.
He feels that infernal burning in his eyes again and the turns his head to look anywhere but at Ragnar. He doesn't know what exactly it is that causes him to crack again.
He takes a quick inhale and doesn't look back at Ragnar, not wanting him to see him and rather sure if he did that he'd wouldn't be able to stop himself from truly crying. He felt so weak and this loss of composure is not helping in the least.
"I did not go to him to learn. Not tonight... and the first night I was hardly myself," he murmurs, his voice quiet but it doesn't mask how thick it is.
"Why are you holding it against me? I thought it was the natural way of things," Athelstan whispers in frustration, Ragnar's tone digging into a sore spot.
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But he couldn't make himself go back to their bed, he ends up drinking some and then going out to his art room. He sketches and he dozes there. He tries to pray but it feels wrong. He actually takes his cross off for a short time but not long before it's back on again.
He's exhausted and troubled and the sketch he's working on is Christ on the cross and crows roosting on it. Again, it's sacrilegious in a way but somehow feels right.
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It was still dark and by the heavy stillness and silence, his guess was that it was early morning. Grumbling a little, he went to roll over to tangle up with Athelstan and found the bed empty and cold. He sat up a little, frowning as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.
"Athelstan?" He said the monk's name softly, not sure what he was expecting. The man obviously wasn't there. He pulled on a tunic and pulled one of the blankets off the bed to wrap around him as he wandered out of their room. The house felt so still. Poking his head in to check on his daughter first, he then made his way down the stairs. No lights on. No Athelstan.
He forced himself to think rationally and swallow down the rising panic as he quietly opened and closed the back door, going outside barefoot and padding his way across the grass to Athelstan's art shack. Was there a light on? It was difficult to tell.
He eased the door open, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light, and felt a wave of relief.
"What are doing?" He asked groggily, stepping inside to get out of the early morning chill, closing the door behind him. How long had he been out here sketching?
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"Sketching," he answers quietly as if Ragnar couldnt see the and West for himself. He doesnt know why ragnar is awake so early. Its still a while before athelstan would need to get breakfast started and ragnar rarely was awake before him.
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"I can see that," He grumbled, "Why are you sketching now? Why are you not in bed?"
He stepped closer, putting a hand on Athelstan's shoulder and squeezing. Maybe he'd had a nightmare as well.
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He doesnt answer, still moving the pencil even though he can't think anymore. He wants to lean into ragnar but Dodgers voice is still in his head.
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Brow furrowing, he reeled back a little at the frosty response, confused and quickly feeling more grumpy about all of this. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the back of Athelstan's head for a moment before putting his hand down, fingers spread, on top of the sketch to keep Athelstan from continuing.
"I asked you something, priest. Are you really just going to ignore me? Like a petulant child?" Seriously?
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"What is so wrong with me that you won't have sex with me? What am I missing that Dodger has?" He starts softly but he doesnt give ragnar a chance to answer. The encounter with dodger had left him feeling raw and exposed in a way that's anything but pleasant mentally.
"How could you give him leave to have me again?" Because thats what dodgers words had sounded like to him. The anger was mixing with the sadness more heavily now and he doesnt turn to look at Ragnar. "Why am I not good enough? Why am I not enough?"
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Athelstan's initial question was met with an expression of absolute annoyance and disbelief, mouth opening to retort, but Athelstan continued. Dodger. Again. He rolled his eyes.
And then the conversation got very, very confusing and that confusion was written clearly across his face.
"...." He was speechless, not even sure where to start. More than once, he breathed in with every intention to say something, only to exhale, exasperated at himself and overwhelmed.
"... What? What are you talking about? We... we have had sex... And what... What do you mean about Dodger? I don't..." He turned his hands, palms out helplessly.
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Maybe he's not making much sense. "We have been intimate but you have never... I wanted you to..." the words don't seem to want to come out and he deflates feeling a bit helpless that he can't make himself explain in further detail -- frustrated that Ragnar doesn't understand what he means.
"Dodger... he... made it seem like you gave him permission to fuck me again," Athelstan murmurs and the words are easier in that sense. He felt his eyes burn and he kept his face tilted away from Ragnar's eyes so he wouldn't see. "He... He asked me to come over tonight. I wanted to kill him and I tried," he looks down at his wrist where he'd been burned for the attempt.
"I..." his words faltered. "He didn't stop."
It's not the most coherent retelling of the night in the least or of his feelings that had built up even before the night. He's confused and the feelings of insecurity and inadequacy are hard to articulate, to allow himself to do so.
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"Wait. Stop. Let me..." He shut his eyes for a moment, in an attempt to think clearer, "We... can talk about the first thing. In fact, I am very happy to. But... You are saying..."
He wet his lips and took a step closer, slowly crouching in front of Athelstan so he was looking up at him, his hand lightly resting on the very edge of his knee.
"Athelstan..." He's still so confused and trying very, very hard not to grab an axe and leave for Dodger's immediately. First things first. "I never.... Dodger and I have never spoken about you. Is that... what he told you? That I said he should..."
He bit his lip, his hands shaking ever so slightly from the rage he was feeling. Athelstan was more important right now, though. Dodger wasn't going anywhere. That could wait.
"Did you tell him to stop?" There was no judgment or suspicion in his tone, he just needed to know all the facts because apparently Athelstan suddenly assumed people could read his mind when it came to what he wanted in bed.
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"It sounded like it..." Athelstan started but Dodger had never said those words specifically. So much of what had been said seems nebulous now at best but he knows how the words had made him feel. It's not much help. But the words are harder to perceive that way when faced with Ragnar's voice and presence.
Athelstan inhaled sharply at the question. "Not at first," he says, frowning. "I never said stop. I told him to get off but he said no, that I already had my chance to leave. And I... it's my fault," Dodger had said it clearly enough, that if he stayed that whatever happened it's on Athelstan. He should have left. Why didn't he leave? "I didn't leave."
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"Telling him to get off you is the same as telling him to stop, Athelstan. And he should have listened," He said softly, his tone ripe with disappointment. He knew Ivar hated Dodger, but the reasons he'd given hadn't really mattered much to Ragnar and Dodger had always been decent to him. But this... Was this who he truly was?
"Are you alright?" He asked, squeezing some of the fabric of Athelstan's pants in his hands nervously where his hand rested on his knee. He mostly meant physically because, obviously, he wasn't alright emotionally or mentally at the moment.
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"Yes," Athelstan says, at least knowing what Ragnar is really asking. Dodger hadn't been rough even when he wouldn't stop. He bit his lip. "He warned me, it was my fault," Athelstan says quietly.
"Please don't leave," he adds, his voice a bit more desperate than he wanted to sound. He'd been avoiding Ragnar, the misunderstanding and anger and pain all clouding things but now all he knew is he didn't want Ragnar to leave him.
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"What? Leave? Athelstan... why would I leave?" He shook his head and slowly straightened a bit so he could put a hand around the back of Athelstan's neck, guiding him a little closer so he could press their foreheads together while he still knelt, "I am not leaving. I am not."
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He doesn't know why Ragnar would leave. But a few options pop into his mind, that he's damaged now somehow or undesirable or more pertinent that Ragnar is angry at him or at Dodger and would leave for that. It is both an immediate and long term concern even more than he's letting himself focus on.
The monk lets Ragnar pull him closer, their foreheads pressing together and it's comforting. Athelstan lets out an unsteady breath and he closes his eyes because he's too close to tears again and he doesn't want to appear even weaker. he hasn't felt this weak in so long. He'd been powerless in attacking Dodger and even more so when he was under him and couldn't make him even budge an inch.
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Or maybe... Was Athelstan feeling guilty simply for sleeping with him?
"You know I would never... never fault you for finding pleasure wherever you wished. You afford me that luxury, and I you," He mumbled reassuringly, "I know you say you do not seek it out, but it is fine. If you do, it is fine."
Now, he needed to try to figure out how Athelstan went from going to kill Dodger to sleeping with him, albeit unwillingly at some point in the evening... for the second time.
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"And this time, I thought...I was stupid," he finally assesses.
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He didn't argue with Athelstan's claim, though part of him, the stubborn little shit voice in his head wanted to mention Judith and point to Dodger. He was of the opinion that Athelstan would like to believe he didn't want anyone else and maybe, ninety-eight percent of the time, that was true, but sometimes those chance encounters where sparks just flew were difficult to say no to. Ragnar knew Athelstan wouldn't hear it though.
His brow furrowed at Athelstan's reasoning.
"But... Was I not... Have I not been... patient enough with you? Have I not... been showing you thing slowly? Introducing you to more and more?" He opened his mouth again and couldn't help but stop and exhale something almost like a laugh at how absurd all of this seemed, "Athelstan... I knew exactly who you were when... when we started. Why would you think any of that would matter? I did not expect for you to..."
He stopped, pausing, looking down, "If all you ever allowed me to do was... kiss you. Or sleep next to you... It would have been more been more than enough. Because it is you. I wanted you. Not," He shrugged his shoulders, "Sex. I have always just wanted you."
It was a raw truth, Ragnar almost looked nervous, pleading, scared that he'd laid himself so bare, that he'd made himself so vulnerable. But it was Athelstan. And he trusted him. With his life and his heart.
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He exhales softly against his hand, his eyes on Ragnar's face. He loves him so much that he doesn't know what to do with all of it sometimes.
"Ragnar, you... you've been perfect," Athelstan whispers and it's true. Ragnar has been a good friend and a good lover. The things that are wrong are because of Athelstan's own insecurities. It'd never been anything that Ragnar had said or done. "I wanted to be good. I've wanted to be worth it, all the time I made you wait," he whispers, all the time that Ragnar hasn't waited. "I didn't want to disappoint you."
He squeezes Ragnar's hand. "You've had me, Ragnar, even before you've known it. You've had my heart and my soul."
Athelstan lowers his hand. "I'm sorry I'm so foolish," he can't help but apologize despite the last time he had causing arguments. "I've been so afraid that I wouldn't be able to satisfy you and then... with...when I heard Ivar," he tries to explain but it feels a bit unimportant. "I felt like I was not good enough, that I wasn't enough."
He says it in past tense as if the insecurities aren't still there.
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Ragnar kept his gaze locked with Athelstan's, lips pressing into a flat line subtly when Athelstan assures him that he'd been perfect, something he doubted since Athelstan had been very obviously unhappy with him. He exhaled audibly, not realizing he'd been holding his breath as Athelstan spoke, and shook his head.
"There is no way you could ever disappoint me, Athelstan," He said it like a promise.
His eyes unfocused, falling idly to Athelstan's shirt as he tried to process everything.
"Is that why... you asked about sex? You do not consider the things we have done together to be sex?" Ragnar wasn't exactly walking on eggshells but the way he spoke made it clear that he'd chosen his words carefully.
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He'll always be torn between two worlds, two beliefs even though he is held together by his love for Ragnar in a way. He wishes that he could fully commit to Ragnar's ways as much as he could commit to Ragnar. He looked back up at Ragnar at the question, but he isn't really looking at him as he spoke.
The question confuses him for a moment. "It's different, isn't it?" he questions, and he feels he's done or said something wrong. "When I say sex I mean," he wanted to say 'you know what I mean' but clearly Ragnar did not.
"You have never been inside me," the words were flustering to say and he looks down at his hands that are once again clasped tight in his lap. "I love what we've done together, Ragnar," he says sincerely then, confused. "But I can't understand why you do not want to be with me that way. Haven't you with..." he cut himself off there.
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"You know," He started, though Athelstan obviously did not know, "It would still be sex even if we never did that."
He leaned back a bit, looking off to Athelstan's right at nothing in particular and scratched his fingers through his beard with his free hand. He forced himself to go in a different direction with the conversation.
"I did not want... to overwhelm you. Or, worse, go too quickly and have you not enjoy yourself because I could not be patient," His eyes met Athelstan's again, but his brow furrowed slightly, "With who?"
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"Do you not trust me to tell you if I'm overwhelmed, if it's too much?" Athelstan asks, looking up at him again. In honesty, it's probably fair that Ragnar might not trust him to do so, especially now.
"Dodger."
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He was trying. He really, really was.
He tilted his head back, forcing himself to look Athelstan in the eyes as he spoke, tone strained, but calm.
"None of that matters though. It is done. And now I know. That that is what you expect of me in bed," His tone pulls slightly as he fights the urge to sound even sassier, "And, no. I have never fucked Dodger. Not like that. Does that, at least, make you happy?"
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He feels that infernal burning in his eyes again and the turns his head to look anywhere but at Ragnar. He doesn't know what exactly it is that causes him to crack again.
He takes a quick inhale and doesn't look back at Ragnar, not wanting him to see him and rather sure if he did that he'd wouldn't be able to stop himself from truly crying. He felt so weak and this loss of composure is not helping in the least.
"I did not go to him to learn. Not tonight... and the first night I was hardly myself," he murmurs, his voice quiet but it doesn't mask how thick it is.
"Why are you holding it against me? I thought it was the natural way of things," Athelstan whispers in frustration, Ragnar's tone digging into a sore spot.
"Yes and no."
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