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Hannibal takes it reverently, like a Catholic believer accepting a communion wafer.

Sinric laughs warmly and follows it with a kiss. "Take this, my flesh." He purrs softly, the words sensual on his lips.

Hannibal closes his eyes, and swallows.

Sinric watches him, his eyes savouring Hannibal just as Hannibal savours the morsel.

Hannibal opens his eyes again and looks at the tray, curious but wholly passive.

Sinric chuckles and settles into a more comfortable position to feed little bites to Hannibal. Next he chooses a fine slice of fresh fish, folding it neatly around a rice ball, the heart of which holds a ball of sour cherry, tart with the almost sweet fish.

Hannibal accepts it, and eats, slowly savouring every components and the great composition as a whole.

Sinric sings softly, a song suitable to the era and the food. His voice never sounds quite right for the songs for Nippon but he sings them as best he can, enjoying their complexity just as Hannibal enjoys the food.

He makes sure to take a bite or two for himself, favouring the spiced sesame oil dressing in the little caved vegetables.

"You will make me levitate with contentment and sated pleasure," Hannibal purrs.

"That is as it should me." Sinric smiles, wiping a crumb from Hannibal's lip with the pad of his thumb before preparing another bite. "And means I have succeeded utterly."

"You have," Hannibal agrees, licking his lips.

Sinric pours them each a little cup of the rice wine, a very different flavour than the post industrial sake of Hannibal's time. Wilder and deeper and a little rough.

He's content to feed Hannibal till the bed picnic is all done.

And Hannibal seems content to lie and feed on delicate morsels, share sake, and savour every bite.

But even the best picnic will be finished eventually.

Since smiles and follows the last bite with a kiss.

He slips off the bed to wash up, returning to gently wash Hannibal's lips with a cloth dampened in lemon water. A more Roman habit than Japanese.

Hannibal stretches, looking at Sinric with a smile.

"What should I do next?"

Still utterly passive.

Sinric smiles and stretches out with him, fingers brushing the red marks. He might be a little proud of them. "I do believe you should select some music, something we can listen to as we digest?"

"I will be modern and decadent for once," Hannibal says, smiling as he gets some longish black electronics from his bedside drawer, and within moments, Bach's Brandenburg Concertos quietly fill the room.

Sinric watches with a smile. "Today is a day for decadence." He settles against Hannibal's side, content to let the music wash over him.

Hannibal puts a hand on Sinric's hip and closes his eyes to listen, making a little sound of agreement.

Sinric lets the music soar and swell inside him, letting it fill him up. His fingers flow over Hannibal's skin, tracing patterns and lines as the music dictates. The muscles under Hannibal's hand bunch and relax, feeling the music with his whole body.

"The basso continuo is extremely soothing," Hannibal murmurs, "just as the melody is lively in counterpoint."

"Like the coolness of waves on a sun-drenched beach. I could imagine listening to this in the Mediterranean."

"It would fit the place, yes," Hannibal agrees, leaning over to kiss Sinric. "Or on a small sailing vessel, in the moonlight."

"Yes." Sinric purrs, at both the kiss and the image. "The moonlight reflecting off the smooth sea as a breeze places lightly in the sails." He sighs warmly, languidly draped over Hannibal's side.

Hannibal closes his eyes and sighs happily as well.