(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here]

Sinric takes Hannibal's hand and pulls him into the shadows of an alleyway, drawing him into a kiss. The heels give him an advantage he doesn't usually have.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric can't help but laugh, warm and shaking and joyful. The brass band blends gloriously with their own mad pleasure.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal groans and curses, pushing into him in the rhythm of the raucous music.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric cries Hannibal's name, shuddering roughly. He isn't sure how he'll be able to stand after this.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal groans loudly, and then spills his hot seed into Sinric, slamming into unrestrainedly for a few last times.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes and whimpers, leaning heavily in Hannibal's strong arms. He pants into Hannibal's neck, mewing kittenishly.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's hips still move, trying to wring the last bit of pleasure out of Sinric before desisting

His hands sneaks between them.

[thewidewideworld]

The front of the silken underwear is damp with Sinric's meagre seed, his little snail well spent and flaccid but the touch still makes him shudder.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal still holds him up, hanging on to Sinric's hips as they come down from their shared high.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric manages to lift his head enough to kiss Hannibal sweetly, still panting and weak. He whispers a word of praise and thanks in his native Greek, too blown to remember the modern English.

He is the very portrait of well-fucked.

[cook_the_rude]

"You look so lovely," Hannibal breathes, looking into Sinric's eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs breathlessly, unable to muster words just yet.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal lets him down slowly, stroking his hair and face.

[thewidewideworld]

It takes Sinric a couple of false starts to find his balance. Eventually abandoning his heels and surrendering the height to stand on his own feet. "That was-" his voice is hoarse with moaning, adding to the debouched image, "wonderful."

He wavers a little, leaning on Hannibal. "I think I shall have to sit down a while."

[cook_the_rude]

"In the bar just opposite the mouth of this alley?" Hannibal suggests.

[thewidewideworld]

"If you will help me there, very gladly." He smiles up at Hannibal. "Although the patrons may suspect what we've been up to." Not that he seems overly bothered by that.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is tucking himself again.

"Come, lean on me," he says. "It's just a few steps."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric does his best to straighten his (literal) ruffled feathers and leans into Hannibal's embrace, his shoes dangling from one hand as they walk.

Sitting down comes with a rather evident wince.

[cook_the_rude]

"What would you like to drink?" Hannibal asks, trying not to smirk as if secretly proud of that effect.

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh yes, please?" Sinric catches that not-smirk and answers it with a half pained smile. "Something strong and steadying, if you would be so kind?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Something with enough vitamins," Hanno al muses. "Campari orange. Two of those, please," he orders off a passing server.

[thewidewideworld]

"I put myself in your hands." Sinric smile, trying to shift his feathered tail to comfortable position. Not to mention the rest of him which is aching in enjoyable ways.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal smiles, leans back, and awaits whatever comes next.


[[OOC: Wrap here?

[thewidewideworld]

{ooc: Lovely, thank you!}