Athelstan is more flustered the more Ragnar continues to touch him, his mouth against his neck sending a shudder through his body. His breathing is heavy as Ragnar's finger presses against him, the ring of muscle contracting slightly at the teasing, the sensitive nerves making it hard to concentrate on any words.

"This is meant for the bedroom," he manages to say, flustered and it's clear enough with their bodies pressed together, wet and slippery that he's aroused despite the light protest. He doesn't know why either that he doesn't simply give into this. He knows that sex can happen anywhere but there's an immodesty to places outside the bedroom that he hasn't quite started to cope with.