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Sinric squeezes Hannibal's hand. "May I came up to your room tonight? I...I don't want to go to mine just yet." He doesn't want Ragnar to see. And he doesn't want to bring any risk to either Ragnar or Athelstan.

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"You don't -- ahhhhh!"

Hannibal is lost for words.

Sinric grinds down slowly, inner muscles tight as he rises, flexing his dancer's thighs. He hums contentedly, losing himself in the feeling.

Despite his best efforts, Hannibal's hips thrust up.

Sinric leans in to kiss Hannibal, changing the angle so Hannibal's aborted thrusts hit him just right. He purrs deeply, nuzzling Hannibal's throat.

"Sinric!" Hannibal moans, his hips thrusting up more strongly now, despite himself.

"Don't hold back." Sinric purrs, sucking one of those red marks again, making it shine. "Give me all your passion."

Hannibal moans more loudly, then suddenly flips them around and starts to wildly thrust into Sinric.

Sinric cries out a half moan, half laugh as Hannibal flips them over. The air driven out of him with each thrust pushes it all the way to a moan. He cants his hips against the onslaught, guiding Hannibal's thrusts to hit him just so, making him writhe and cry out. He's close, so very close.

Hannibal moans wordlessly, his voice getting louder as his hips speed up, greed and need overwhelming him.

Sinric's own need is more than a little overwhelming as it envelops him, driving his release out of him with a sob and a scream.

"Sinric!" Hannibal cries out, taking three more thrusts until he is there as well -- flooding Sinric before he even starts coming down.

Sinric trembles with overwhelming pleasure, leaning forward to bury his face in Hannibal's neck. He sighs warmly, cuddling close.

It takes Hannibal quite a while to come down, stop moving, and lie down half on, half beside Sinric.

Sinric molds himself to Hannibal, happily weak and breathless. He runs a slow hand down Hannibal's back, feeling the firm muscles spasm and twitch as Hannibal comes back to himself.

"Sinric."

Hannibal pulls him tight and languidly tries to kiss him.

Sleepy, sloppy kisses make Sinric smile. He shifts to make it easier for them both, just enjoying the warm nearness of the afterglow.

"I might fall asleep if we don't do something about it," Hannibal warns him, visibly suppressing a yawn.

Sinric laughs warmly and kisses Hannibal. "Sleep if you desire. I'll wash much and join you in a moment."

He needs to clean the jade phallus before he puts it away. It's part of his ritual.

"Do you mind if I only wash later?" Hannibal asks, sleepily.

"Not at all." Sinric kisses him once more and gently slips out from beside him. "Rest. If you wish, I can bring a cloth and wash you? I'll be very gentle I won't even wake you."

That would be luxury beyond compare," Hannibal says, lying back and closing his eyes.

Sinric smile and presses a fleeting kiss to Hannibal's eyelids before moving away.

He puts on some more music - low and soporific as he goes about his tasks - shower himself before kneeling by the bedside with a soft cloth and a bowl of warm, fragment water.

He washes Hannibal slowly, gently and with a ritual of care. First his face and neck, smiling to himself at the smattering of hickies that dot Hannibal's throat. Then his hands and arms and down.

Part sponge bath, part relaxing massage, he hums softly along with the music.

Hannibal is still awake, but in utter lassitude only moves when So ric pushes him, and keeps silent.

Sinric guides and touches, gently moving Hannibal as needed. And added little kisses here and there. He hasn't does this in a while but the way of it is all muscle memory and affection.

He finishes with a kiss on the turn of Hannibal's ankle as he rises to tuck the blankets around Hannibal. "I'll join you in a moment."

He fetches a fresh bowl of water and kneels on the floor with the phallus and it's box, cleaning it thoroughly, first with water and then with spirits from a small ceramic bottle. He draws small bamboo picks from the case, using them to make sure ever part is clean. There's something intrinsically Japanese about the completeness of it.

Hannibal is watching through slitted eyes, not moving or speaking, but observing closely.