Athelstan's words are met with another long, slow drag of Ragnar's tongue up the side of his neck punctuated with a light bite to his jaw. He eased his fingers out just as unhurriedly.

Then, in stark contrast, he turned Athelstan and pushed him forward slightly, bending him over so his upper chest was pressed against the smooth, shockingly cool tiled wall of the shower. Again, he teased his fingers over Athelstan's entrance, his other hand finding his wrist to guide the monk's hand up to press against the wall for balance. Nudging his legs further apart, he ground his hips forward against him as he bit down on his shoulder with low groan.

He pressed a kiss over the reddened skin he'd just bit down on, one hand going to Athelstan's hip, the other on himself as he very slowly eased into Athelstan, breath turning into soft, focused pants.