(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 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.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal bends his head to kiss Sinric's throat, softly and gently.

[thewidewideworld]

AS gentle as Hannibal was, there are shadows of bruises forming at Sinric's throat. Not deep but just enough to show on his delicate skin.

But Sinric bares his throat to the kiss, purring softly. He adjusts his perch on the edge of the bath to press a little tighter to Hannibal's front.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal pulls him against himself, sighing as he kisses Sinric's shoulder once more.

[thewidewideworld]

"In your dream of the other me, what were they like? The jewels he wore his breasts and manhood?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Intricate and lovely," Hannibal says. "Would you like me to draw them?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Would you?" He asks softly, arching back to rub his face against Hannibal's neck. "Later."

He leans over the turn off the water, turning in Hannibal's arms to push off the robe and invite Hannibal into the water with him.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal follows, with a pleased sigh, sfretxhi g out in the bath.

[thewidewideworld]

There was room enough for them both to stretch out, but just as much comfort to lounge together.

Sinric waits for Hannibal to settle before pressing against him once more. "Would you tell me about the city we saw through him? Florance, was it?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes, it was," Hannibal says. "An old city in Italy where the renaissance began, the rediscovery of Roman and Greek culture after the predominantly Christian Middle Ages."

[thewidewideworld]

"The age I'm in now." Sinric snuggles against him, letting the warm water soak away his aches. "What was it like for you?"

[cook_the_rude]

"For me, it was old," Hannibal says. "Steeped in culture and traditions, with the finest old-fashioned and hand-made food, drink and other goods to enjoy."

[thewidewideworld]

"It sounds like a perfect place for you - full of art and culture and finery. We're you happy there?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Not as happy as I could have been," Hannibal admits. "I ultimately went with the wrong companion."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric strokes his shoulder gently with a cloth, washing him softly.
"You would rather have been there with Will." It isn't quite a question. "Rather than Bedelia."

[cook_the_rude]

"Will, and Abigail," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sets down the cloth to wrap his arms around Hannibal's shoulder, stroking the back of his neck lightly. "Your family." He looks into Hannibal's eyes with nothing but compassion.