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.
Alfred's reaction gets a huff of a laugh out of Ivar, though it was much more than that as he reacted to the sensation of Alfred's tongue on his cock.
One of his hands moves over Alfred's head, burying itself in his long hair. He runs his fingers through it, running his hand along his scalp until it reaches the ends of his hair. Then he does it again and again.
Alfred makes a quiet sound of contentment, very near a purr if a human could, letting the vibrations tease the other's cock as he lowers his head. The hand in his hair, along his scalp leaves his head tingling and warmth flooding through him as he focuses on sucking the other's length.
His hands aren't idle as he takes him as deep as he can before pulling back and bobbing as he traces the ridges of muscles, one hand sliding lower, gripping his hip briefly before cupping the other's sac, massaging firm as if to test Ivar's reaction to the attention.
The feeling of his length in Alfred's mouth is just what Ivar wants. There's a low groan of contentment from him. For once, he's not thinking of the pain in his body or how ashamed he is of the sight of his legs. All the attention leaves Ivar aching and he knows he's going to come soon.
Alfred relishes the groan that he pulls from Ivar and he continues to suck him but when he thought he was getting to close he pulled away, his fingers wrapping around the base of his cock firmly as he lapped at the tip before shifting to kiss his stomach, slowly crawling up over him. He was careful not to press against his legs as he did.
His hands moved to undo his own pants then working them off and tossed to the side as his tongue brushes over Ivar's nipple, sucking it but drawing his teeth over it.
Ivar has never had anyone have such care for making sure that he was going to have a good time during sex. Not that it had happened often, but usually, Ivar was just worried about being able to perform. Now, he'd finally found someone who was making him enjoy himself. "Alfred..." He says his name the way a man might say the name of God: with spiritual reverence.
It brings chills to his skin when Alfred's teeth are on him. He reaches down, drawing Alfred's head back up gently so that he can kiss him again.
Alfred's eyes flick up to Ivar when he hears his name and he likes the way it sounds on Ivar's lips just then. He lets the other teen pull him back up, pressing his hips down to Ivar's to rub against him, more teasing than really providing any substantial friction as he kisses him.
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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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One of his hands moves over Alfred's head, burying itself in his long hair. He runs his fingers through it, running his hand along his scalp until it reaches the ends of his hair. Then he does it again and again.
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His hands aren't idle as he takes him as deep as he can before pulling back and bobbing as he traces the ridges of muscles, one hand sliding lower, gripping his hip briefly before cupping the other's sac, massaging firm as if to test Ivar's reaction to the attention.
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His hands moved to undo his own pants then working them off and tossed to the side as his tongue brushes over Ivar's nipple, sucking it but drawing his teeth over it.
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It brings chills to his skin when Alfred's teeth are on him. He reaches down, drawing Alfred's head back up gently so that he can kiss him again.
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