thewidewideworld | (no subject)

From here

Sinric's room is small, simple. A slightly narrow bed spread with furs, a long free-standing wardrobe and a padded window seat that overlooks the gardens. But what dominates the room is a large baroque harpsichord.

Sinric ducks his head, tucking some stray books away, hair hiding his face shyly. "I'm sorry, I know it's not much."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thewidewideworld

An easy rhythm. As easy as breathing or the beating of their hearts. And just as natural too. He strokes Emcee's cheek, his back, his shoulders. Every brush of skin against skin - their bellies, their thighs, the join of their bodies alights the connection between them.

A word falls from his lips, sweet and breathless. "Adelphos." It may mean little to Emcee but it is brother in Sinric's mother tongue.

From:

i_am_your_host

He hums a purring sigh in reply, a happy sound, as he indulges in Sinric's touch like a cat, arching his back with every slow push of his hips.

Dipping his head, he runs his lips along his jaw, leaving feather-light kisses.

"What does that word mean?" he whispers, combing Sinric's hair over his ear.

From:

thewidewideworld

"Brother." He whispers, flushing a little for the shame of how different the connotations are sound in English.

From:

i_am_your_host

"Hmm..." he murmurs, his lips still grazing his heated skin, his hips still moving.

"Brother...and more than that."

From:

thewidewideworld

"For me, it has always meant more. Trust. Safety. Oh-" He tips his head back in a sweet moan, "Love. Unspoken-" He moans again, lifting his hips so Emcee fills him all the deeper.

From:

i_am_your_host

Love.

Emcee braces himself on his knees to thrust deeper, sighing hotly into the pit of Sinric's throat.

"There are many facets to even the most seemingly simple of things..."

Wrapping his arms around his waist, he shifts his weight and urges him to roll over so that Sinric ends up on top of him.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric rolls with him, easily, lithely. He shifts his weight, finding the most comfortable spot to return to their dance.

Tucking his slender ankles under Emcee's knees, he arches back, the feminine curves of his chest proud as he losses himself in the feeling.

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee breathes out a throaty groan as Sinric's weight now rests on his hips, and he spreads his thighs a little further, letting him sink down, taking him deeper.

From under smoky eyelids heavy with lust, he gazes up at Sinric's body. He runs his hands up his sloping back and sides, as svelte as a mermaid breaching. Emcee moves underneath him, rocking him like wave after wave.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric lifts his arms above his head, wrists crossed as he moves with sinuous grace. The Persian slave-boy and the golden daughter of Spring in one combined.

He rides Emcee's thrusts in perfect harmony, inner muscles squeezing in counterpoint. His own eyes slipping closed to let his other senses rule.

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee watches Sinric in a haze of desire, a languid, barely-there smile on his slack lips.

He rests his hands for a moment on his slender hips, not to restrain but to follow each graceful swerve. Still locked in a dance with him, where every groan he makes is joyously delirious.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric arches back further still. Not to show off his not insignificant flexibility as he usually does but for the sheer and honest pleasure of feeling the way Emcee moves inside him.

He arches back all the way, reaching to rest his hands on Emcee's ankles, his blonde mane brushing his calves.

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee utters Sinric's name in a gasping moan. The sight of him, so lithe and lean, keeps him hard. His dancer's thighs spread over him, the flat plane of his stomach, the curve of his ribcage-- his breasts with swollen, erect nipples.

Emcee's hands on his hips now take a firmer hold, and he thrusts harder, wanting to go deeper. Wanting to feel his glorious body all around him.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric flexes back up with all the grace and control of a belly dancer. Until he finds that point at which the angle is perfect, at which Emcee's every thrust strikes the his seat of pleasure just so.

He opens his utterly, silken hair brushing Emcee's thighs as he clenches in counterpoint. He can feel crescendo coming for them and wants to feel, to share, every drop of pleasure imaginable.

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee's moans are interspersed with grunts in rough German, growing louder and more delirious with each thrust and every tight clench around him.

He's peaking quickly, and can see and feel Sinric is on his way as well. He holds onto his hips, skin hot and slick with sweat. He writhes, grinds, bucks underneath him, reveling in Sinric's body and the way he makes him feel. Unbound. Unraveled. Completely undone.

And he throws his head back with a cry, a shout colored with notes of laughter, his eyes shut so tight that he sees shooting stars.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric's high is not as intense as the first, just by the nature of his being but there's no mistaking the pleasure he takes in every rough breath, every quickened heartbeat they share. Or the way he drinking in the joy of Emcee's release.

He leans forward again as they both still, breathlessly happy and taking his time to let the lethargy the little death infuse his body.

From:

i_am_your_host

Eyes still closed and panting heavily, he lets out a long, drawn-out purring moan, his lips curled in a dreamy smile. As he stretches like a cat, he lets his hands slide down Sinric's thighs.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric leans in to kiss the curve of that smile, purring himself.

After a long moment of luxuriating, he lifts himself off Emcee, stretching out beside him, their fingers entwined.

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee rests their joined hands on his belly.

"Mmmm, that was utterly marvelous, darling," he sighs, the languid smile still on his lips.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric rolls onto his side to look at Emcee, his smile soft and deeply content. His fingers move gently against Emcee's inner wrist, drawing soft spiral. "I haven't felt this... right in myself for a long time. Thank you."

From:

i_am_your_host

Emcee opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Sinric, his remark drawing a faint line between his brows. In reply, he kisses him, almost chastely, but warm and sincere.

"Why was that so?" he then asks in a near whisper.

From:

thewidewideworld

The kiss makes his sigh softly. "I think because I haven't been able to do this. Not with anyone who truly sees me for who I am. So much so, I fear I was beginning to forget myself."

From:

i_am_your_host

He ponders this and nods, turning to look back up at the ceiling, as he idly traces over the fine bones in Sinric's hand with his fingertips.

"We are placed on pedestals and showered with compliments in one moment, and then in the next, reviled and kicked while we are down. And so we forget who we are, when we constantly see ourselves through the eyes of others, and not from within. Sometimes it takes someone else to remind you-- of yourself."

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric's head resting beside Emcee's shoulder, his eyes half closed. "Just so." His voice is barely a whispers. "The eyes of others make poor mirrors. They bend and distort, show us ourselves in shapes we begin to to bend to for we think it is our true image."

He sniffs and squeezes Emcee's hand gently. "But in me, you see yourself. So in your eyes, I see me."

From:

i_am_your_host

He smiles a little crookedly.

"Funny how that works," he says, gently wry, squeezing Sinric's hand in return.

With a sigh, he tips his head toward him, their foreheads almost touching.

"You said that I would have been your brother at your master's court. I think you would have done well at the Kit Kat Klub. The other boys and girls would adore you."