(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Sinric tumbles through a door. Not his own nor Hannibal's but near and open. He pulls Hannibal with him, pushing the door closed without a backwards glance. The room is dark and richly furnished, finished in oxblood and gilt. All of which Sinric ignores as he pulls at Hannibal's clothes, eager for skin between passionate kisses.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tires to go slowly.

"Too fast," he gasps. "You get nothing from this!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric eases back, pressing a kiss to the tip of Hannibal's manhood.

He slides his hands up Hannibal's thigh, rising up to press a kiss to the plane of his stomach.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans, and reaches out for him. "Come, let me touch you."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets himself be pulled, straddling Hannibal's lap. "Very gladly."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal dips his head to put his lips to Sinric's breasts, licking and suckling.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric arches, moaning as his nipples harden. He rubs himself against Hannibal's thigh, his little member filling. "Oh Hannibal, yes."

[cook_the_rude]

"You are so wonderfully responsive," Hannibal murmurs, between licks and sucks, "so brimming with sensuality, to one who knows you and bothers to learn."

[thewidewideworld]

"You have made a study of me." He gasps, head thrown back in joy, his lips red and full. "To bring me such pleasure."

[cook_the_rude]

"It is my pleasure," Hannibal says, lifting his head to kiss Sinric's lips. A finger sneaks between Sinric's legs, too.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric returns the kiss as passionately as he did in the bar, burying his hands in Hannibal's hair as he lifts himself to give Hannibal better access to his body.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches around to slip his hand between Sinric's legs from behind, pushing at the root of that little snail while rubbing over his hole.

[thewidewideworld]

He whimpers into the kiss, moving rhythmic and lithe to Hannibal's touch.

Dappled light glints of the gilt of the bedframe, the ivory of his skin and is drunk by the deep red of the bedding. It makes everything seem visceral and surreal.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's other hand lifts to touch Sinric's breasts. "I should have more mouths," he murmurs into the kiss.

[thewidewideworld]

"You have enough hands." Sinric moans, flexing and clenching. "Skilled hands."

[cook_the_rude]

"Mouths are better," Hannibal says, dipping his head again to Sinric's breasts to prove his point with a long and intense suckle.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gasps brightly, throwing his head back. His movement become frantic and urgent. "Hannibal! Oh yes!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal intensifies the suckling, and his hand moves faster. His own hips move as if on instinct, seeking friction.

[thewidewideworld]

"Please!" Sinric moans, his voice breaking. "Take me!"

[cook_the_rude]

"Sit on me," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric doesn't hesitate a moment but shifts to straddle Hannibal, impairing himself on Hannibal's manhood with a groan that perfectly rides the line between pleasure and pain.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans loudly, thrusting upward into the welcoming heat.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's body opens to him, hot and joyous. He cries out, moving to meet Hannibal's thrust with a desire driven abandon that will no doubt leave him bruised. But he does care. All that matters right now is their pleasure.

He looks down at Hannibal, wild eyes and panting. His expression hungry for more.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal bends his head to suckle on Sinric's breasts again while he keeps thrusting.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric buries his hands in Hannibal's hair, pulling a little just for the joy of it as he ride Hannibal hard.

Latin and Greek and Chinese and Japanese fall from his lips, all begging, demanding more.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal slides one hand around to touch the tip of that little snail while aiming for that sweet spot inside Sinric.