"Oh, of course you are," Alfred says, a smile curling further at the corners of his mouth. His skin was heated and tingling where the other was touching and he met the other's gaze. It's hard to continue the conversation they were having.
"That...is really cheesy," Alfred accuses Ivar playfully but he leans in and presses his lips to his again, clearly he doesn't mind cheesy.
He's glad Alfred doesn't mind him making a fool of himself. Contrary to the side he likes to present to everyone at all times, being in control of things, when it came to people he likes, Ivar is a mess. He's glad Alfred seems to enjoy him regardless. He leans back into Alfred's kiss, the hand on the back of his neck playing with the hairs along the nape there.
His foggy brain keeps working in the background trying to figure out where he's seen Alfred before. He's sure he's been on the news in some capacity. He'll get it sooner or later now.
Alfred wonders if they should keep talking more, if maybe he should be honest but he knows it will be sooner rather than later when Ivar figures it out on his own. He can enjoy this, the fact that there's nothing about his station that is causing the connection they're sharing, Ivar's attraction to him is only about himself.
He doesn't offer anymore information and instead parts his lips, tongue brushing against Ivar's lips, questing to deepen the kiss pushing conversation further and further away from the forefront of his mind.
Ivar continues to kiss Alfred, the heat rising up in him, and going straight to his groin. This is promising to end up being a good night for the teen.
He pulls Alfred down gently until he's lying back on the couch with Alfred over him. Much as he'd like to be the physically dominant one, it's too hard to keep himself on top when he's being intimate with someone. He keeps tugging on Alfred's hair as he kisses him, the little spurts of pain some spice to go along with the sweetness.
Alfred groans into the kiss as they shift and they’re laying on the couch. He is careful as he moves with the others legs, it’s easy enough to assume that they could be painful with the wrong pressure applied. But thinking about making sure not to hurt Ivar doesn’t stifle the pleasure of pressing against him as they settle. Each tug on his hair sends a delicious thrill through him.
He rocks his hips down into Ivar’s, feeling heat grow between them as he tilts his head and breaks the kiss to trail his lips along his jaw and down his neck with heavy breaths as he tastes his skin.
There's a groan of pleasure from Ivar as Alfred start to trail his lips on his skin. His heart thumps just a little louder at the soft feeling on his jaw and neck. He tilts his head to the side so that Alfred will have easier access.
One hand slips under Alfred's shirt and he runs his hand along his skin lightly, his palm feeling warm just from the contact.
Alfred is eager to take advantage of the offered skin, light kisses and tender nips as he searches out what spots might get the best response out of Ivar while savoring the unique taste the other had on his tongue.
A quiet sound escapes him and against the skin he had just kissed, a mewl of pleasure of sorts as he raises into the other's touch slightly before rolls his hips a bit more firmly against Ivar's.
There's a moment that he basks in before he shifts to pull his shirt off. There are hints to his identity if Ivar were paying attention, a ring that is known to be a royal jewel, a tattoo of his family's crest visible after he pulled off his shirt over his heart (his mother had nearly had a heart attack when he got it but it had been one of his major moments of rebellion).
Once his shirt is tossed aside he moves to pull of Ivar's as well, a grin spreading across his face as he does.
Ivar lets Alfred pull his shirt off, the alcohol still buzzing in his system. His own tattoo isn't nearly as obvious since it's on his back, a picture of Hati and Skoll chasing one another, the wolves of Norse mythology that would devour the sun and the moon. He'd gotten it when he was 17, a reminder to himself that he would always be a conqueror, not the one being conquered.
He leans up, hips bucking as much as he can with his limited mobility as his fingers ran lightly over Alfred's tattoo. He paused a moment, brow crinkling. "Where did you get this?" He asks. Ivar knows he's seen that particular crest before. It's somewhere in the back of his mind, rising to the surface...any moment now...
Alfred looks vaguely amused at the fact that Ivar asked him about the crest and didn’t place it immediately as more than a few people would have normally. He glances at Ivar before he answers, a little breathless from the desire and heat that was building between them.
“It’s the royal crest.” He wondered if that was enough to clue in the other.
That's when it hits Ivar. Why Alfred had a vaguely familiar quality and why Ivar thought he'd seen him on the news somewhere. Alfred was an English prince. He's been on a date with a member of the royal family this whole time. He sits up a little and the shock on his face makes it clear what he's just figured out.
When he finally finds his voice again, he swallows. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asks almost accusingly. Alfred hadn't exactly lied to him, but Ivar wanted to know why he hadn't been honest with who he was from the beginning.
Alfred shifted his weight when Ivar sat up and his hand drops onto the back of the couch and well... this reaction is partly the answer to why he wouldn't have told him. He hesitates a moment and then lifts a shoulder.
"Because it isn't important and people tend to think about nothing else when they know."
Ivar seems to be taking this quite well. Not recognizing Prince Alfred had been a bit of a shock, but now that it's wearing off, all that he can see is the kind-hearted teen he's already started falling for. He's smiling faintly as he reaches up, tucking a bit of hair behind Alfred's ear. "Sleeping with a prince..." His smile turns into a smirk. "Guess I can cross that one off the bucket list."
Alfred rolls his eyes. "Pretty confident about how far you're going to get aren't you?" Alfred teases him, though he's pushing Ivar back down again, letting his hips roll into his once more.
"Oh yes. I can see the future very clearly," he said, still with that smirk that was equal parts infuriating and charming at the same time. He's glad to see that this isn't going to interrupt their night too much. After all, he still wants very much to be here in the moment with Alfred, not focusing on what his status is.
“Can you?” Alfred asks, a small smirk on his lips as he leans down and kisses the others jaw, moving up to his ear before adding. “then tell me what you see.” It’s not a question and he grazes his lips along the shell of Ivar’s ear, a hand drawing along the others stomach lightly.
He lays back, now satisfied that things aren't going to get awkward between them. He's greatly growing to be quite fond of Alfred even in the short time they've spent together. He reaches up, running his nails down Alfred's back just hard enough to produce that nice tingly sensation such a move could produce. This was going to be a good night.
Alfred’s back arched into Ivar’s nails, drawing his teeth along his earlobe and tugging slightly. He ground down against him as his lips went lower. He thought to ask if Ivar wanted to move elsewhere but so far the couch seems to be comfortable enough for the both of them. He slips his hands upward, feeling the muscles of the others torso as fingers tease over his nipples lightly.
There was no talking from Ivar now, just groans and little muted sounds of pleasure as his lips sought out Alfred's body. The friction between them grows greater and Ivar can feel himself growing hard. He directs Alfred's hands gently towards his pants. He's going to need a little help here getting them off. The disadvantages of not really being able to move some parts of his body without having some pain happen.
Alfred's fingers make quick work of the fastenings of Ivar's pants and he pulls away so he can shift downward so he can tug Ivar's pants down until he'd freed his cock. He shoots a smile at Ivar as his fingertip traces the length of it But then he's undoing his own pants, quickly kicking them all the way off along with his underwear. There's some hesitation on his part to pull Ivar's pants completely off -- both a trepidation about what would hurt him and if the other would even want them off.
He doesn't doubt Ivar's ability to make his wants clear, though.
Ivar's whole body shivers a little when Alfred runs his finger over his cock. He shifts, but he's not getting his pants off without an additional hand here. "I'll need a little help," he confesses with just a trace of embarrassment in his tone. Much as Ivar liked to be fiercely independent, there was some things, especially when being intimate with someone that he couldn't do on his own.
Alfred smiles and he nods. There’s a gentle and careful nature to his touch as he then works Ivae’s pants off and tossed them to the ground before looking up at him. “You’re so sexy, Ivar,” Alfred tells him and the words feel a bit vulgar on his lips but it’s the truth after all. His fingers wrap around Ivar’s cock, stroking him firmly a few times.
“How do you usually...” He flushes because well the implication of the question could be considered offensive... though probably not by Ivar
There's a moment of surprise hearing something like that from Alfred but it's a good sort of surprise. There's a groan of satisfaction at the friction he feels from the fingers on his cock.
His face flushes and he looks off to the side, not quite meeting Alfred's eyes. "I can't really top if that's what you're asking." He's always tended to be frank with his sexual partners because otherwise things had a tendency to go bad real fast if someone wasn't informed. "But it's not like my bones are going to shatter into a thousand pieces just from sex." Being young and horny tended to thankfully give him a lot of stamina for moments like this.
Alfred takes in Ivar's body language and the way that he suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes for the first time. He didn't say anything at first and instead he continued to stroke him, his thumb rubbing over the tip every few strokes upward.
It feels awkward to ask questions. Alfred's not vastly experienced but he's no virgin either but he's never had a partner with a condition like Ivar's and his compassionate nature has a million questions running through his head but he settles on asking just one. He figures Ivar's pride can survive that. "Tell me what you like best while I'm busy," he says, his eyes mischievous and he leans down, hair falling forward and brushing over Ivar's hip as his tongue swipes up the underside of Ivar's cock.
His legs can't really move much, but his arms stiffen as he feels Alfred's tongue on his cock. His hands clutch the bits of Alfred's body on top of him with firm fingertips.
"Don't be afraid to get rough," Ivar manages to get out, the pleasant sensation of Alfred's hair on his skin intermingled with the feeling of his tongue. "I don't mind teeth and nails being used." Alfred seems far too gentle to do such treatment unprompted, but maybe with a bit of encouragement he will.
Alfred looks up at Ivar at the words and he raises a brow. He isn’t particularly inclined to being rough but he also is a bit of a people pleaser so he likes knowing what it is that Ivar likes. “Why am I not surprised?” He murmurs against Ivar’s cock.
He draws his tongue along the length of his cock again and then draws the tip into his mouth, sucking it teasingly at first, not taking him in further as his hands move over Ivar’s stomach, nails lightly scraping against the defined muscles.
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"That...is really cheesy," Alfred accuses Ivar playfully but he leans in and presses his lips to his again, clearly he doesn't mind cheesy.
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His foggy brain keeps working in the background trying to figure out where he's seen Alfred before. He's sure he's been on the news in some capacity. He'll get it sooner or later now.
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He doesn't offer anymore information and instead parts his lips, tongue brushing against Ivar's lips, questing to deepen the kiss pushing conversation further and further away from the forefront of his mind.
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He pulls Alfred down gently until he's lying back on the couch with Alfred over him. Much as he'd like to be the physically dominant one, it's too hard to keep himself on top when he's being intimate with someone. He keeps tugging on Alfred's hair as he kisses him, the little spurts of pain some spice to go along with the sweetness.
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He rocks his hips down into Ivar’s, feeling heat grow between them as he tilts his head and breaks the kiss to trail his lips along his jaw and down his neck with heavy breaths as he tastes his skin.
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One hand slips under Alfred's shirt and he runs his hand along his skin lightly, his palm feeling warm just from the contact.
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A quiet sound escapes him and against the skin he had just kissed, a mewl of pleasure of sorts as he raises into the other's touch slightly before rolls his hips a bit more firmly against Ivar's.
There's a moment that he basks in before he shifts to pull his shirt off. There are hints to his identity if Ivar were paying attention, a ring that is known to be a royal jewel, a tattoo of his family's crest visible after he pulled off his shirt over his heart (his mother had nearly had a heart attack when he got it but it had been one of his major moments of rebellion).
Once his shirt is tossed aside he moves to pull of Ivar's as well, a grin spreading across his face as he does.
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He leans up, hips bucking as much as he can with his limited mobility as his fingers ran lightly over Alfred's tattoo. He paused a moment, brow crinkling. "Where did you get this?" He asks. Ivar knows he's seen that particular crest before. It's somewhere in the back of his mind, rising to the surface...any moment now...
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“It’s the royal crest.” He wondered if that was enough to clue in the other.
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When he finally finds his voice again, he swallows. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asks almost accusingly. Alfred hadn't exactly lied to him, but Ivar wanted to know why he hadn't been honest with who he was from the beginning.
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"Because it isn't important and people tend to think about nothing else when they know."
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He doesn't doubt Ivar's ability to make his wants clear, though.
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“How do you usually...” He flushes because well the implication of the question could be considered offensive... though probably not by Ivar
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His face flushes and he looks off to the side, not quite meeting Alfred's eyes. "I can't really top if that's what you're asking." He's always tended to be frank with his sexual partners because otherwise things had a tendency to go bad real fast if someone wasn't informed. "But it's not like my bones are going to shatter into a thousand pieces just from sex." Being young and horny tended to thankfully give him a lot of stamina for moments like this.
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It feels awkward to ask questions. Alfred's not vastly experienced but he's no virgin either but he's never had a partner with a condition like Ivar's and his compassionate nature has a million questions running through his head but he settles on asking just one. He figures Ivar's pride can survive that. "Tell me what you like best while I'm busy," he says, his eyes mischievous and he leans down, hair falling forward and brushing over Ivar's hip as his tongue swipes up the underside of Ivar's cock.
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"Don't be afraid to get rough," Ivar manages to get out, the pleasant sensation of Alfred's hair on his skin intermingled with the feeling of his tongue. "I don't mind teeth and nails being used." Alfred seems far too gentle to do such treatment unprompted, but maybe with a bit of encouragement he will.
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He draws his tongue along the length of his cock again and then draws the tip into his mouth, sucking it teasingly at first, not taking him in further as his hands move over Ivar’s stomach, nails lightly scraping against the defined muscles.
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