thewidewideworld | (no subject)

Hannibal kisses him greedily, his fingers probing the edges of Sinric's corset.

Sinric moans an assent, arms around Hannibal's neck and one leg pressing against his hip.

Hannibal reaches down to Sinric's hip, to lift him up where he needs him.

He's glad now the heels are so high! Sinric moans warmly, enjoying Hannibal manhandling him like this. The undergarments under the short, feathered skirt are silky and insubstantial, and easily pushed aside.

Hannibal's free hand goes straight between Sinric's legs, all the way back, while with the other hand, he's holding him up safely against the wall.

"Take me hard." Sinric moans, back pressed against the wood clad wall. "Let me feel the wildness of the night."

Slowly, with his eyes fixed on Sinric's face, Hannibal licks his middle finger, wetting it thoroughly.

Sinric pants roughly as his eyes widen with desire. His small breasts, pushed up by the corset, heave against the boning with every breath.

Hannibal dips his head to kiss Sinric's cleavage while his slicked finger slides between Sinric's buttocks.

Sinric tries, rather uncoordinated, to pluck at the top closures of the corset, the ones that keep his breasts so tightly confined. He losses the battle as Hannibal's finger pierces him, sending a shock of pleasure through his body.

Hannibal crooks his finger and moves it, to loosen Sinric up and intensify his pleasure.

Sinric mews and whimpers, clenching and flexing. "Hannibal, yes. Fill me, use me."

Hannibal reaches down to free himself from the constraints of his clothes; then, he takes Sinric's hips in both his hands, holds still, and pushes in.

Just like that.

The thrust pushes Sinric up, staining to keep himself steady as Hannibal enters. He moans, high and rich, and loud enough that anyone passing will know exactly what's going on in the shadows. His eyes roll as his head falls back to the wall.

Hannibal moans loudly as he slips inside -- yes, no doubt at all what is happening here.

With one hand freed again, he reaches up to fumble open Sinric's corset.

His breasts fall over the opening, full and high. He takes a gasp of air, no longer quite so winded. He cups the back of Hannibal's head, drawing Hannibal's lips down to his hot skin.

Hannibal bends his neck and licks the generous nipples while he keeps pounding into Sinric.

Sinric whimpers warmly, his back banging against the wall with each thrust. Just like this - rough and perfect. He buries his hand in Hannibal's hair, clinging to him tightly. He moan Hannibal's name over and over, breathlessly.

Hannibal moans and pants against Sinric's skin as he thrusts and thrusts, unhurriedly creating and dispersing pleasure with every movement.

Sinric whispers words of encouragement in Hannibal's ear - Greek and Latin and Persian, a jumble of untranslated pleas of passion without the Bar's translation field. But Hannibal may recognise a few words, being educated as he is.

Needy, dirty words, egging Hannibal on and begging for more. Encouraging him to take Sinric hard, to use him like a common whore in the alley way, to leave him aching and full.

"Yes," Hannibal moans against Sinric's nipple, "yes, I will!"

He thrusts hard, and his grunts are as delightfully filthy as Sinric's words.

The dirty words keep flowing, tripping off his tongue as Hannibal's thrusts stroke him deep inside. He hadn't expected to peak himself, just content to enjoy the ride but he can feel the coil tighten.

Hannibal's hips piston faster as, for once, he lets go and shows his full, considerable strength, putting it to good use.

The strength honed on breaking bones and overpowering his victims. None of which troubles Sinric at all as the force of those thrusts drive the air from him in shouts of sheer joy.

He doesn't have the breath to scream as his peak comes, unexpectedly and brilliantly sharp.

Hannibal, feeling Sinric clench around himself, soon follow suit, shooting heat and strength up into the slight body between his strong hands.