ragnarsson | Asgard Genesis Inbox

The bra being taken off is something of a relief. He was beginning to think he was going to need to cut her out of the darn thing with one of his knives. While that would've been fun for both of them, it might be a bit early to be getting into knife play.

There's some anxiety about being able to, ahem, perform, given his track record before. He finds out he doesn't need to worry. The friction of skin-on-skin contact as her breasts press into his chest. and feeling relaxed enough around Gaige is enough to get his cock working properly. There's something so very attractive about having sex when both of them were covered in blood.

He almost misses her question. What's that? Oh yes, pain. He thinks on that for a moment. "Nothing much below the waist." It's both a matter of pain and pride. He still can't stand to have anyone sleeping with him to stare much at his legs, poor, scrawny, wasted things that they were.

Then she reminds him of one other thing: the metal arm. This won't be a fun experience for either of them if she breaks one of his bones during sex. Memorable, yes, but not fun. "Grenade. Got it." He's not sure if they'll even need it, but he's managed to break bones from far less strenuous activities then this.

[seriously, if klaus finds the equivalent of a cactus or a porcupine on asgard, ivar's getting one. both should that be a possibility, alongside a ridiculous joke about being a prick or something because haha, isn't he clever?

he snickers in response to the comment, rolling his eyes and pulling himself closer, hand digging still. after a moment longer of shuffling about, his fingers catch the twisted cords, hook it tight then pull the jewelry out, thumb pressing against the beads. he has to admit, hearing the excitement in ivar's voice and watching him make grabby hands is pretty goddamn adorable.]

Alright, yeesh, [although his tone's completely fond as he hands the bracelet over, withdraws the hand and props his cheek in the palm once ivar takes it. the barest smile upticks his lips then he asks,] Is it really worth getting that excited over? [because he doesn't think so, but... well, if ivar appreciates the sentiment.]

[Really, a porcupine would make a fine mascot for Ivar. Prickly quills on top and a soft underbelly. That described the Viking teen quite nicely.]

Quiet, you. I will choose when, where, and what I get excited over. [Ivar truly can be a bit of a child sometimes, though it also stems from a culture where everything requires effort to make, so anything is to be savored for the effort it took. He looks the bracelet over with a critical eye. It's nice work, though perhaps not quite as fancy as the ones back home are made by jewel-smiths. He ties it off around his wrist and admires the way it looks for a moment before looking back up at Klaus. He says in a decidedly decisive tone:] This is mine now.

[After a moment of examining the bracelet further, he adds on:] Thank you. [That's probably the first time Ivar has thanked anyone for anything in the entire time he's been in Asgard, minus the time Peter built him his wheelchair.]

[guess someone's getting a weird pet for christmas... if they don't accidentally miss it with the lack of a calendar, anyway?]

Yessir, [klaus mutters, rolling his eyes, although he can't help letting his smile widen. seeing someone enjoy an item he's given them just warms the cockles, especially when it's ivar of all people. their tumultuous relationship has always kinda been up in the air; with this little bauble and an extending of the metaphorical olive branch (or laying down of arms as ivar had said better), perhaps they've got the chance to put everything else behind them. he raises his eyebrows with astonishment once the teenager secures it around his arm, blinking slowly, deliberately, after ivar's claimed the jewelry for his own.

how silly, it makes klaus's heart flutter all excitedly.] Sure, it's no problem. [but that sounds wrong, doesn't sound good enough, so—] You're welcome.

[Christmas? Pft, don't be such a Christian, Klaus. He can get him one for Yule instead, the holiday full of feasting, mushrooms, and a sacrifice. Vikings are the original hipsters, having a badass holiday that revolved around giving presents and a big bearded man long before the Catholics revamped it.

Klaus has come to realize the contradictory nature of Ivar. He can be full of a burning rage that can scorch a countryside wide in his anger and yet at the same time go to leaps and bounds to make the people who show kindness to him happy. His unpredictable nature does have some actual sense to it once someone starts getting to know him.

He examines the bracelet again. It's looking fascinating now, the green colors all pretty and fuzzy around the edges... He feels good, all relaxed and warm inside. It's not just the It appears the mushrooms are starting to kick in. He settles back in his wheelchair, slumping down into the various blankets and pillows he's used to cushion the chair with.]

I think those mushrooms are working.

[okay, fine, whatever holiday it is ivar celebrates, he'll get something. funnily enough, klaus's able to provide two of those things, but if ivar wants something (or someone) to sacrifice, he'll have to search elsewhere— and quite honestly, he's agnostic, so what does that make christmas for him? maybe he should celebrate yule instead? hmmm.

in spite of the unpredictability (he hasn't forgotten ivar stabbed him), he can't help feeling as if ivar's had a rough fucking go at things. frankly, who better to understand that than a hargreeves? their whole family is messed up, like a trainwreck you just can't look away from.

he props onto his elbows, tilts his head and blinks once, twice.] Good thing, yeah? Seems like it is, [murmured through a chuckle. his own mushroom has him feeling tingly in the fingertips, fuzzy at the corners of his mind, a little muddled.]

Let's hope it's a decent trip.

[See, all Klaus needed to do all along to get Ivar to warm up to him was get him high! In all honesty, now that he's not trying to plot Klaus' murder all the time, they'll have a chance to see just how really similar they are. Centuries apart, but some things like the way people deal with their families never changes.

Ivar goes unusually quiet for a bit after the mushrooms start to affect him. He stares at his hands for a bit as if contemplating everything that makes them up: bones, muscles, blood vessels, tendons. Fascinating stuff really.

Then he seems to snap back to a form of attention. He feels like he needs to do something with his hands, so he pulls out and just sort of keeps flipping one of his knives around. It might look a little alarming, but Ivar actually has no intentions (for once) of throwing it at Klaus. It's just something to keep busy.]

[which is hilarious, considering klaus usually isn't handing out narcotics like they're halloween candy, but he hadn't hesitated when it came to offering some to ivar if it meant protecting his pride. the embarrassment at ivar's possible making fun of him had been completely unnecessary, and yet, he doesn't quite regret telling him about the mushroom. now, they'll be high as kites and the viking likes his bracelet.

hell, if it hadn't gotten so quiet all of a sudden, he might've laughed at the thought. klaus's attention darts from ivar's face to his hands, eyebrows raising curiously after he realizes he's staring— and not because his intention is trying to figure out the parts of them.

...well then, the abrupt appearance of a knife could've been why. he retrieves the flask, strips off his coat, takes a long pull from the container, his eyes still on the knife while he upturns his unoccupied hand, speaks around the metal lip,] Wanna see something cool?

Got it, is the nod of her head as she keeps up the steady pressure of her lips dragging over his shoulders. "Don't touch the cut from my real arm, gives me weird phantom pains in a not-fun way." Less the stab-hot quick feeling of landing blows, but that nauseous headache the last time she had to take off the metal arm.

But not now, not now. Now what mattered more was threading her good fingers tightly in his hair to tilt his face up to kiss him again, rocking into his lap, grinding head against the rough material of his pants up between her thighs in that little bit enough fraction to make her groan against his lips. That building heat that burns tightly, turning her all slippery-quick. If she's aware that she's quick, easy as far as a fuck goes, she's never had a conversation about it that mattered particularly to her. Because why the hell should she care when there's a hot guy that gets her this wet, this fast and is interested in touching her back?

So no touching his legs? Worked just fine for her. Her metal fingers begin to tug the laces of his pants undone, maintaining just enough patience not to rip them apart entirely. Because oh, fuck, it's been ages since she had someone remotely interesting enough to make her want to do something else but fight. With just enough forethought to move her metal fingers away and swap with her real ones as she finally gets into his pants. If his bones like his legs are fragile, God forbid anywhere else far softer. But her palm is warm as she slides it into his clothes.

No underwear? Neat. Suits her just fine as her lithes fingers curl around his cock with a happy little sigh as she finds him growing hard. The blood trickled further down, now, over her chest, down her arms. The heat of their bodies keeping it smooth. His fingers leaving bloody handprints on the skin where the sun hadn't tanned starkly bright.

[Honestly, Ivar would be preening a bit were he to realize Klaus was staring at him for any reason. He’s so used to people seeing him as anything but an object of attraction that he’ll take any attention whether that’s good or bad. Besides, for all his bluster earlier, there was something oddly charming he found about the junkie.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s been spoken to. When it hits him, he snaps his pair of too-blue eyes towards Klaus, the knife finally coming to a momentary halt.]

Yes! [Ivar sounds very eager when he asks. Do a trick, pony!]

With all the communication out of the way, it’s time to get down to business. He presses his mouth up against her’s. His lips start out with meeting Gaige’s before they begin to move downwards, first across her cheek, and then down her neck, where he finds a sensitive spot to nip at with his teeth and soothe with his tongue. He can taste the saltiness of the blood that had worked its way into the crooks of her skin.

One of his wrists bends upwards while the fingers go downwards pressing hard against her skin as Gaige’s fingers close in around his dick. He takes in a breath, sharp, almost as if he’s in pain even though it’s borne from pleasure instead. It’s been a long while since he was touched like this by anyone. Not since Freydis and not even for a while since they’d had their falling out. He can feel most of his warmth rush straight to his groin.

The other of his hands roams across her breasts, feeling their weight in his scarred palm. He runs his callused fingertips slowly across them before hovering over the center. His thumb rubs over her nipple, stimulating it to help her get off even better.

The more he touches, kisses, bites, the quicker her hand works, an incentive push and pull. Squirming and shifting in his lap as she presses back into his lap. Tilting as he breaks away from her lips, down her throat and she lets him have as much skin as he wants to roam over. Enjoying how he gripped that little bit harder, not treating her softly. Encourages her, grinding back with absent friction, fingers tight in her rough palm. Gun callouses that she teases against the sensitive underside of his cock. Focused on that - head tilted, listening to see what sound came out of him for that -

"Ohhh, fuck," her voice hitches roughly, going still when she arches into his hand. Always such a catch, it feels like it should be a relief as he palms at her chest, teasing with sensitive skin. Loudly whining, eyes screwed tightly shut, she enjoys it so, so much. But hell if it ever was more than just an electric bolt straight down and carved out her need deeper where it hit. "Keep going, ah, fuck that feels good - "

It's a babble more than coherency, mindless encouragement in the way she knows how to be, especially like this: too eager and never kind. Mindlessly praising of him with little cuts of sound where she can snatch him for a kiss here and there, palm lazily going back to work when she remembers to move it again, but at the same time, fixed, to see if she can repay that favour.

With the encouragement she gives him, Ivar continues what he's doing, working away at her breasts. As he feels her fingers continuing to work his cock, he makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Hnnngggnnnhhh," Ivar says, groaning out a series of consonants rather then an actual word. Words seem superfluous right now.

He can't take much more of this. Her hand on his dick just makes him want her all the more. Finally, he seems to find a few words. "Gods, fuck me." He keeps one of his hands on her breasts, working the delicate skin there.

For more encouragement, he slides his hand around to the front from her back and then slips it into her panties. It takes him a fumbling moment before he can get his fingers inside of her, moving them around to see if he can have her keep making those sounds. He might not know all the technical terms, but he'll see if he can find her clit to keep on going.

She honestly wouldn't care what he called it, as long as he knew where to find it, that's all that matters, and when he does - she whimpers, not able to help where she freezes, pressing into the hand at her chest, and hips back into his fingers as he slides into her and desperately tries to take more like the demanding thing she is.

Twitching, her head falling, hair falling over her face in a mess and tacking with blood as she grins between each kiss. Her free arm curling around his shoulders, broad as they are, strong as they are. It's not really a surprise when she thinks about it. But damn if it wasn't nice to find out this way. Easy to reaching his tattoos where she's so much littler in his lap. Squirming happily between the steady pressure of his fingers fucking her open, how with each stroke, she's all - eager and slick, coating his fingers that each movement comes smoother and easier and she whimpers into the bites she begins to litter over his neck, his shoulders, that little jut of collar bones she feels out with tongue and teeth. Lapping at the blood, smeared over the both of them.

Though it's hardly listless, the more he keeps it up, the pointed those sharp little cries she begins to smother against his chest. That joy to being 19 and stupid, it never took her much to get her off, especially when it had been ages, and this place and these people leave her empty - and there was enough here already. The way he seemed to like her as it was, as much as he liked the violence, that he was hot as hell, that he was into it as much as she was. Wasn't even a little bit afraid of her. That his fingers were that little bit rough, that little bit broad, that little bit too much, that leaves her screwing her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed as it leaves her toes curling. "Ivar." His name in between little profanity said like prayers. Her voice hitching higher, mewling vibrations into his skin.

[ivar, please, the last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of klaus's ‘charm,’ because it's not nearly as delightful once one is dealing with his nonstop talking. ~~just ask rhys!~~

whenever those vivid eyes are on him again, the older wanderer blinks, slow and deliberate, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. had his heart really leaped that high? he isn't sure, but despite his efforts to not stammer, his words still fumble a little anyhow.] O-Okay, uhm. [a beat, just long enough for him to motion toward the knife ivar's holding.]

May I use that real quick? [also, don't call him that out loud, for the love of god.]

That's amazing. I only know about that place from the stories in my world and Thor but seeing it must be so cool. Full of heroes and warriors.

[ Not a place he thinks he will ever get to see but it's nice that some cultures do have such a welcoming afterworld. ]

My lips are sealed. [ He might tease but he won't make fun of Ivar for this. Especially since he looks rather happy for a change. ] That sounds rather awkward. Don't worry, I'll make sure not to interrupt. We really need to talk to Tyr about the way we are roomed. I don't particularly mind of sharing rooms but it was making Mary and others uncomfortable.

You know what women like? Weapons. You should get Gaige some.

[Oh, he has ways to deal with nonstop talking. Granted, none of them are ways that Klaus will ever want to experience (aside from when he finally figures out his powers), but there you go.

Gods, but he is such a dweeb. At least it helps to balance out Ivar and his eternal psychotic edginess.]

Sure. [He flips the knife around with a smooth movement, holding it out in his palm to offer it to Klaus. Even while high, he's still able to show off the moves it's taken him a lifetime to master.]

[there could be one other way klaus wouldn't mind experiencing... but, uh, that's something to possibly be discovered later as well. (like, a great, big maybe.)

he can't help it, though. something about ivar is just. disarming in a way he's unable to put his finger on and without a proper way to describe it, he's left looking like a floundering fool. blessedly, the viking hands his knife over with very little effort. klaus accepts it, murmurs a small thanks while being certain he doesn't shift an awkward way and end up cutting either of them.

with ivar's blade settled across both palms, he gives it a brief once-over then shuts his eyes, the bracelets around his wrists glowing faintly as he pours all his concentration into moving the knife— and eventually, it begins levitating out of his hands.]

[Ivar watches. The display would be impressive even if he wasn't high as a kite, but it's even more so now. He just hopes Klaus doesn't drop it and end up stabbing himself in the leg. Not that he would care too much. The man can heal after all.]

That's great. I wish I knew what my powers were.

[He's tried quite a few times to figure things out, but with the near infinite possibilities of what they could be, it's a bit disheartening to think of every possibility only to have nothing happen. It also doesn't help he's been thinking more of the flashy displays people have been showing rather then something more low-key like his own powers are.]

Exactly. I shall drink, feast, and fight until the end of days. And when the final battle of Ragnarok comes, it shall be the most glorious end of all.

[For Vikings, there was no better ending then one which was a battle strong enough to end the entire world.]

Bah. Try spending all winter with you family, slaves, companions, and animals all sharing the same quarters. Then you may come back to me and complain.

[Privacy was a luxury most couldn't afford in the Dark Ages, even if they were royalty.]

Weapons? Hmmm, yes. She would like something like that. Maybe I shall get her a mace so she can smash things with it! [Things like people's kneecaps, perhaps?]

The bites all along his skin each leave a tingle of pleasure running through his body. He keeps working his fingers inside Gaige, his confidence growing when he hears the sounds she makes and can feel his fingers growing wet. He's feeling a deep ache within himself for release as well.

They're young and alive and full of fire. If they burn up together, so be it, for it will be a pleasurable experience for both of them. She's gorgeous and interested in him without seeming to care a whit about his legs. It's a new and amazing discovery for him. For the first time in a long while, sex actually feels pleasurable for him.

Then he removes his fingers from Gaige, leaving her to grow possibly antsy for a moment before he slides his dick inside her. Then he starts up a steady pressure. It's muted compared to what most men were capable of, given that he couldn't thrust with as much force given his useless legs. But it's enough to be able to give her pleasure and that's all that matters to him.

[by some miracle, the knife doesn't end up in his leg. actually, once it has hovered a few long seconds, klaus lifts his right hand, pinches the blade between his fingers and offers it back to ivar, handle first.]

Are you for real? You haven't figured them out yet? Huh. [no facetiousness, just genuine curiosity. what is it he's done to figure out two powers where ivar hasn't even figured out one? so long as the knife is taken, his hand withdraws, reaches up and lightly taps his chin, a low, thoughtful hum reverberating around them.]

Strange, I sorta just thought about mine happening and it... happened.

[Ivar takes the knife back from Klaus. The subject has harshed his mellow just a little bit. It appears he's going to say something but then gets distracted by the shininess of the knife in his hand. He stares at the blade as if fascinated for a long moment before he slides it back into his vest. Finally he answers Klaus.]

Not in all the months I've been here. [This wasn't entirely a bad thing considering how dangerous and unstable Ivar was already even without powers. With them, who knew what could happen?]

Peter and I tried for some time, but nothing ever came of it. [Frankly, he's a bit sulky now. These two dodos had managed to figure their powers out, yet he's smarter then both of them put together and still hasn't. What is he doing wrong?]

[aw, damn, he didn't mean for that to happen. worrying at his bottom lip, klaus watches the younger man, tilts his head and raises his eyebrows while he does. the moment the knife is gone though, he's lowering his gaze to his lap where his hands are fidgeting with the flask he'd dropped there.]

I'm sorry, dude. Didn't mean to be a show-off when you haven't even figured your shit out.

[on any normal given day, he might reach out to hug the person he's with, but there's a gut-instinct telling him, ‘unless you wanna be stabbed, keep your hands to yourself,’ and he's fine taking its advice.] Hey, it... it's okay, you don't have to be upset. I mean, you can be, obviously? But it's not what I would suggest.

[Smart idea to listen to your instincts in this case, Klaus. Ivar craves human touch but he also doesn't know how to express that in an emotionally healthy manner. With how Ivar tends to act, it's easy to forget he's only nineteen, and prone to that FOMO sensation that a lot of teens get. He brushes off the sympathy with gruff words, hiding his real feelings behind his usual anger.]

And what would you suggest I feel then? It's not like I haven't already gone my entire life feeling left out of what everyone else is able to do already.

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