(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's new room is up a floor from his old one and at the east end of the corridor. Inside they arefrankly ridiculous. Romanesque with vaulted ceilings with edges with frescos of animals, rich tiled floors that are warm underfoot.

The cross shaped layout and columns create discreet niches - one with a large bed; another lined with books and a map of the world as known in his time painted on the wall, a third holding several large couches circling his harpsichord.

The east side opens onto a glassed-in portico with a stunning view of the snow speckled garden.

A door off the bed chamber leads to a more modern but still Romanesque bathroom with a bath easily large enough for three.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's pleasure spikes, clenching almost painfully tight around Hannibal as he fucks himself hard onto Hannibal's manhood.

His little snail leaks, hard and quivering.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal howls with unrestrained pleasure, for once completely caught up in the wave of his own orgasm as he thrusts, and thrusts, and then powerfully spills inside Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's high follows a moment later, sharp and hot, leaving him breathless. He falls forward, his slender throat pressed into Hannibal's hand.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal falls back on the couch, utterly spent and panting heavily.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric curls against Hannibal's chest, just as sated and exhausted. It takes him some time to find his voice but when he does, it's rough. "Forgive me."

[cook_the_rude]

"Forgive?"

Hannibal'S voice isn't much better.

"No. I have to thank you -- this was earth-shatteringly good and wild."

[thewidewideworld]

"I didn't realise his need ran so deep, nor his desires so desperate. Or violent." Sinric starts to lift himself off Hannibal, a soft shudder of pain rippling through him. He's going to ache after their passion.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal strokes Sinric's back while he does that. "It caught hold of me, too."

[thewidewideworld]

"To us both." Sinric groans, resting against Hannibal's chest as he lifts himself from Hannibal's manhood. He's quite sore but there's no blood. He does ache but it was worth it.

[cook_the_rude]

"A hot bath might help," Hannibal suggests.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and presses a soft kiss to Hannibal's cheek. "Will you join me? The bath is somewhat decadent." As if the rest of the room isn't.

[cook_the_rude]

"I am all in favour of decadent baths," Hannibal declares.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sheds the robe still crumbled around his waist and offers Hannibal a hand up, cum leaking down his thigh unpleasantly.

He touches the violin tenderly as they pass, as if reaching for that lonely young man.

[cook_the_rude]

"We are so thoroughly debauched," Hannibal comments happily.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric, still somewhat sad for the youth he never was, and somewhat sore, casts a tarnished smile to Hannibal, wishing he felt as good about it as Hannibal seems to. "Perhaps we should call for some wine, toast Bacchus for our debauched."

[cook_the_rude]

"Tuscan, to toast those other selves of ours, whose desires we fulfilled," Hannibal adds.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hadn't thought it or that way - as them for filling their need. The thought warms him a little, lightning the weight he feels.

"Yes. Just so." He nods slowly, his expression relaxing. "Would you mind asking a rat to bring us some while I run us a bath?" He offers Hannibal a robe.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal accepts the robe, wraps it around himself, then sticks his head out of the door and whistles. After a bit, he talks to somebody close to the floor.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric has one knee braced on the edge of the bath, his golden hair falling down his back as he runs the water.

He glances over his shoulder and smiles to Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal closes the door, turns, smiles, walks toward Sinric, and let's his robe slip off.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric holds hand out to him, pulling Hannibal against his back to hug him warmly. He's feeling drained both by the magic and by their love making but Hannibal's nearness helps.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal puts his arms around him and presses close, warm and strong and slightly hairy.

A monster, but Sinric's own half-tame monster.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs, a half tame little bird in Hannibal's arms. He arches back to rub his cheek against the dusting of hair on Hannibal's chest. "Thank you for sharing that experience with me."

[cook_the_rude]

Crocodiles will never close their jaws on the birds picking their teeth. So Hannibal would never harm Sinric.

He strokes Sinric's front, fingertips softly skating over the tips of Sinric's breasts.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's breathing catches in a soft moan - his nipples hardening under the touch. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the here and now rather than the memory of silver jewellery that pierced the breasts of another version of himself.