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hannibal

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"This eternal game." He echoes breathlessly as he pulls Hannibal against him to lean into the bark of the cherry tree. "Yes, just so."

He rubs his lean leg against Hannibal's thigh with a soft, needy sigh.

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One of Hannibal's hands wanders up Sinric's front while he keeps licking.

He mews softly, pressing into Hannibal's touch. He could count the number of times this had been done to him on one hand and less outside Milliways. He fights to keep his knees from shaking as Hannibal's licks open him like a flower.

Hannibal rolls his tongue, and softly pushes inside as his hand finds one of Sinric's breasts.

His nipples are hard, his small breasts warm in Hannibal's hand. He bends forward a little, riding Hannibal's arm as he hardens and trembles.

On occasion, Hannibal's tongue darts deeper, to touch the root of that little snail.

And in each occasion, Sinric moans and writhes, digging to keep his knees from betraying him. "Hannibal, please? I... oh!"

"Yes?" Hannibal says, his lips humming on Sinric's skin.

He laughs, warm and shaky. "You have me begging, Hannibal. Playing me like a fine instrument."

"You want me now?" Hannibal murmurs, not stopping his ministrations.

"Please?" He shivers, softly aching in hardness.

Hannibal stands, kisses the back of Sinric's neck, and positions himself.

He pushes up on his toes, aware of the difference in their height. He rests one hand on the tree bark, reaching back with the other to cup the back of Hannibal's neck.

Hannibal leans in to kiss him, and pushes inside.

"Ah!" He breathes out a sigh into the kiss as Hannibal's manhood fills him. He's tight, for all of Hannibal's ministrations. "Oh yes."

"Yes?" Hannibal says, keeping still inside him.

His hands wander up to Sinric's breasts again.

"Yes!" He answers emphatically, moving on his toes to push himself back into Hannibal, taking him deeper.

Hannibal thrusts deeply, once.

Sinric cries out, his high voice echoing around the cherry grove in his delight.

Hannibal thrusts again, almost growling with pleasure.

Sinric's nails leave groves in the tree bark. "Yes! Hannibal, yes! I want your desire!"

Hannibal reaches around to stroke Sinric's breasts and stomach, keeping up his strong, needy thrusts.

Sinric breathes raggedly, closing his eyes focus on the feeling - Hannibal's strong thrusts, his sure hands moving over Sinric's body.

"Yes!" He moans, followed by Ancient Greek for home. This what home. This was what it felt to be where he belonged. And this felt so perfectly right.

"Sinric!" Hannibal gasps, speeding up his thrusts. "Yes!"

He seems to be very close.

"Hannibal!" His own high is close, curling tight in his stomach. The slap of skin, the heat of their bodies and the rich scent of cherries flood his senses.

Hannibal's hand slides down to caress Sinric's little snail.