Ragnar seemed more than content with the simple fact that Athelstan was in his arms letting him kiss him and moaning in pleasure against his lips. One of the furthest things from his mind was what Athelstan was, or wasn't, doing with his hands. But if the monk paid attention, he might notice the way Ragnar pressed in a little closer and reacted to things by how forcefully he pressed in the kiss, the little subtle twitches, when his fingers traced over his old scars, the skin more sensitive in those spots.

With the hot water trickling over them and a bit of the slick soap still on Athelstan's skin, it was easy to patiently press a finger into him, moving it slowly a few times before adding a second. He was still a little overly cautious about moving too fast, ready to pause at the first inklings of discomfort from Athelstan. He hated that his thoughts went to Dodger and what he'd done as he reminded himself to take things a little slower than he otherwise might have.