For Athelstan

[onceaviking]

Eric has left the door ajar.

He is inside, seated in one of the low chairs, his bare feet resting on the wolf pelt in front of it.
Watching the door.

There's a carafe and one glass on the table.
The bed is turned down.

The light is dim.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"Take me." He's forgotten, entirely, that he ever thought he wasn't going to ask for sex tonight. It's been washed away in the blood and the feeling and Eric. "Here, now, against the wall."

[onceaviking]

He detest groveling and whining and subservience.
He likes naked need and eagerness. Hunger.

He understands hunger.

He lines himself up, teasing Athelstan's skin with his tongue as he pushes inside again. Trusting his blood to keep everything safe.
Fairly safe.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't do groveling and whining. He's not above begging for his life, if need be, but nothing less than that. Subservience, only in the sense that he'll shut up and do as he's told if Ragnar's in a mood, and that's more self-preservation. No, this is entirely need and hunger.

Fairly safe is all he asks, too, and he thrusts back against Eric, panting, as he enters him.

"Can I have - more blood?"

Eric's taken more of his, and he doesn't want to bring a stop to this halfway through by collapsing. But if Eric says no, he doesn't need it, he won't ask again.

[onceaviking]

Eric probably ought to say no.

But instead his mouth moves away from Athelstan's neck and when it returns it's followed by his hand, pressed against Athelstan's mouth. Wet with blood.

[athelstanthescribe]

Eric is such an enabler.

He takes hold of Eric's hand in both of his, bringing each finger to his mouth and then licking the palm, not letting a drop of the reviving blood go to waste.

[onceaviking]

Eric shouldn't encourage him.

But he does.

He is also moving inside him. Slowly.
Deeply.

Like the way he is drinking from him.
Slowly.
Thoroughly.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't stop moving against him, sliding against the wall where it's streaming with the water from the shower, the effects of Eric's blood making him feel everything, intensely, such that he moans with every touch.

[onceaviking]

And Eric looses himself in the taste and the rhythm and the sounds.
Moaning.

[athelstanthescribe]

He doesn't want this to end, and the slowness of Eric's pace mean it can be drawn out for a while. But it can't last for ever, and Athelstan's breathing eventually shallows, his heart racing and his movements turning more fevered as he nears his peak.

[onceaviking]

And Eric slides his arms around him.
Holding him.

[athelstanthescribe]

He's driving the pace up now, writhing in Eric's arms and pulling him as deep as he can, as fast and hard as he can.

It won't be long, and he'd like to have Eric there with him if he can make it happen.

[onceaviking]

He might get his wish. He might not.

But Eric's eyes are closed and even though he has licked the wounds closed now, he is still rubbing his face against Athelstan's skin. So he is evidently getting something out of it. Besides blood.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's better than nothing.

His limit of endurance reached, Athelstan tenses in Eric's arms and cries out in his climax.

[onceaviking]

And Eric tightens his hold on him, still hiding his face against hot, wet skin.
Trying to feel every sensation.

Remember it.

[athelstanthescribe]

He can't exactly turn at the moment, with Eric still inside him and holding him in place, but Athelstan does the next best thing, lifting Eric's hand to press his lips to what would be a pulse point in his wrist.

[onceaviking]

That earns him a gasp.
And then he is turned and slammed against the wall.
And kissed.

[athelstanthescribe]

...well, he'll remember that, if it gets that kind of reaction.

He gives himself over fully to the kiss, letting his mouth be ravished as his body has been.

[onceaviking]

Eric is trembling against him.

And then he is gone, leaving Athelstan alone in the shower.
The door to the room is wide open.

[athelstanthescribe]

It takes him a few minutes to adjust to what's happened, and pull his scattered wits together enough to react to it. Then, slowly, he walks out into the main room, where Eric surely must still be unless he's running around in the corridors naked.

"...Eric?"

[onceaviking]

Eric is seated on the bed.
Naked.
Damp.

He looks up at Athelstan and asks, "How are you feeling?"

Because apparently nothing just happened.
Nothing that's meant to be talked about at least.


he is loosing his grip on this! loosing it! and he cannot afford to

[athelstanthescribe]

"All right. Clean. The water cleared my head..." He may be lying, but he's at least walking unaided and without stumbling. He moves to the bed, almost but not quite in touching distance, and looks at him. "And you?"

[onceaviking]

"I'm fine," Eric says, looking away.

[athelstanthescribe]

"But you..." Ran away. "Left. So suddenly."

[onceaviking]

"Yes."

And nothing more.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan eyes him, and he knows what came before Eric's sharp departure, but he doesn't know why.

Abruptly, "I'm sorry if I shouldn't have done that."