For Athelstan

[onceaviking]

His room is neat.
The laptop is switched on, the decanter in the low table has been refilled with wine, the bed is made.

He turns on the light as they enter and turns to look at Athelstan.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

No hallucinations, in this case - at least not yet, but he does seem to have heightened sensitivity from the way he moans as Eric deepens the kiss.

[onceaviking]

"Talk," Eric whispers in his ear, as he briefly breaks the kiss.
Increasing his pace.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Talk", he says a little blankly, before remembering and then trying to get words together to talk coherently in a foreign language. "Yes... you've known Emcee how long?"

[onceaviking]

Eric actually laughs at this. A genuine, slightly hoarse laugh.
"No. Not conversation."

Every word punctuated by a thrust.

"What you like. How it makes you feel. Words that make you want to come apart."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I don't - ah -" His head falls back as Eric thrusts into him. "I don't know how to talk about that."

[onceaviking]

"Words, Athelstan. Hands, and mouth, and skin, and cock, and tongue, and fangs."

Shifting his grip on him.

"Hard, and slick, and warm, and eager, and -"
A gasp.

"Close and -"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Inside." His breath is coming rapid and shallow, and he tries to give Eric what he wants though he's unpracticed. "You know I like your hands on me, and your mouth. And your fangs."

[onceaviking]

Eric makes a sound that is both soft and needy and bites Athelstan again.

He tastes like the Sea.
Like home.

[athelstanthescribe]

He moans in pleasure, shifting under Eric and losing his words again in that first moment.

Then, with sudden clarity, "Remember to stop."

He always has before, but that sound...

[onceaviking]

Eric doesn't answer.
But after a moment, he does move his mouth away and presses his cheek against Athelstan's shoulder, his face turned away.

Still moving.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan brings one hand up to tangle his fingers in Eric's hair, not quite gently but he doesn't think Eric will mind that.

"Faster", he murmurs hoarsely after a moment.

[onceaviking]

Eric snarls and increases his pace drastically.

[athelstanthescribe]

He isn't sure what to make of the snarl, except just a predator responding, but he did ask for it and he's soon wholly involved in keeping up.

"Yes", he gasps out. "Not always like this, but... like this."

[onceaviking]

Eric turns his face back to him, to watch his face.
His own face is streaked with blood, but he has withdrawn his fangs.

He had to.

So he won't bite him.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan wouldn't even stop him, at least for a minute, but he only has so much blood to spare.

His face shows everything he feels, it always has, and this is as unguarded a moment as there is.

[onceaviking]

Eric leans in and whispers, "You can think of someone else. Just close your eyes."

[athelstanthescribe]

He looks, for a moment, as if he's going to deny wanting to... but then he does close his eyes, concentrating on what he can feel, not what he can see.

The name on his lips when he speaks next, barely aware he's saying it out loud, the one he's wanted on some level - though it's been forced far down under terror and grief, and under a clinging to his old life, and under self-preservation - since the day they met... is "Ragnar".

[onceaviking]

And perhaps the sensations will do. A battle-hardened body. Big hands.
And Eric has fed enough to b cool instead of cold.

He kisses Athelstan, enveloping him in his arms, filling him.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's not perfectly right, not quite like his guilty imaginings, but it's close. Close enough.

Athelstan yields to the kiss, pressing back against Eric's every thrust.

[onceaviking]

And they grow deeper and faster, the thrusts

[onceaviking]

And he takes everything that's offered, just as hungrily as he took his blood.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's what he wants, this time, at this stage in proceedings. What he needs, and his cries of ecstasy are muffled by Eric's mouth as he responds just as hungrily.

And if it still isn't Eric's name he's calling out, well, Eric gave him permission.

[onceaviking]

He won't hold it against him.

Eric understands not being able to get what you want.


He tightens his hold on him even more and buries himself in him.

[athelstanthescribe]

The grip is so tight as to hurt - but it's only superficial pain, nothing is breaking, and Athelstan ignores it. Maybe he doesn't even feel it, in among the flood of other sensations his brain is receiving.

He's very close to the edge now.

[onceaviking]

And Eric's fangs drop, hard.

And then he bites him again.

The lure of the blood he can hear rushing through Athelstan's veins is too big. And he wants to taste him as he comes.