A/N: written for notashamed2bme, who asked for: "Ragnar feeding Athelstan".
A/N 2: originally posted 5th of november 2014

It's a hot summer's day and after having been kept busy all day with chores around the farm, Athelstan has finally made his escape and gone down to the water for a cooling swim. Now, finally feeling refreshed, he's wandering back towards the farm house, where he knows that Lagertha must be expecting him, where it's time to cook supper - when Ragnar's voice makes him turn his head.

"Hello, Priest. Come and join me."

Ragnar's lounging in the soft, green grass of the pasture, his back against a great oak with brances heavily laden with green acorns. He's got a bowl balancing precariously in his lap, and as Athelstan approaches, he catches a glimpse of the bowl's contents.

Red and white.

"Gyda's been out collecting strawberries. They're delicious. You should try one."

Athelstan smiles as he settles down next to Ragnar and reaches out - only to have Ragnar pick up the bowl and stretch his arm, keeping it far from Athelstan's reach.

"Ah ah, Priest. If you want one of my strawberries, you'll have to ask for it," but Ragnar's voice is like the summer day itself, warm and playful.

Nevertheless, for a moment Athelstan considers getting back up, going to the farm house and his chores and Lagertha, who'll surely have strawberries as well and will not play games with him. And yet he stays.

"May I have one of your strawberries, Ragnar Lothbrok?" he asks.

Ragnar cocks his head and strokes his beard, pretending to consider his request. Then he shifts the bowl to his left hand and picks up a strawberry, plump and red and streaked white with the sweet, fat cream it's been floating in.

"Like this one? Would you like this strawberry, Priest?"

Athelstan swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes. Yes I would."

He holds it out towards Athelstan and Athelstan reaches for it - only for Ragnar to once again pull away the prize, leaving Athelstan with nothing but a drop of cream on his fingers.

He licks it away as he glares reproachfully at Ragnar.

Ragnar just grins.

And eats the strawberry.

"You forgot to ask nicely."

Athelstan is once more tempted to leave - but the strawberries look so very delicious and that single drop of cream tasted so very sweet - and so he stays.

"May I have a strawberry, please?" he asks.

Ragnar's grin grows wider as he gestures him closer, and then he tugs at him until Athelstan is lying on the grass, head cushioned against Ragnar's thigh.

Above him a strawberry is dangling between two fingers, framed by sunlight. A drop of cream gathers at the tip, grows and grows until it drops, falling on his lips, and his tongue flickers out to catch it before it strays,

"Close your eyes, Athelstan," and he obeys, feeling ridiculous as he does so, but he's soon rewarded with gentle pressure against his lips, soft and sweet the way he imagines a kiss must feel like, and when he opens up something round and ripe and juicy is placed on his tongue. Warm fingers slide back out, stroking his lips closed as they pass.

It is a very good strawberry.

When he opens his eyes again, Ragnar's face is hovering above him, far too close for comfort, and Athelstan blinks, feeling himself begin to flush at the other man's wolf-hungry gaze. When Athelstan's tongue flickers out to catch a stray drop of berry juice Ragnar's eyes follow it before lazily sliding back up to meet his gaze.

Then, because it is either that or making his escape to somewhere far away from Ragnar, Athelstan takes a quick breath and asks:

"Please, Ragnar, may I have another?"

For a moment Ragnar looks like he's the one who has just been fed a gloriously sweet summer strawberry. Then, never taking his eyes off Athelstan, he reaches for the bowl.