thewidewideworld | (no subject)

[From here]

Sinric leads Hannibal to his room, to his bed. He kisses Hannibal deeply and gently pushes him onto the bed. He undresses. Slowly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thewidewideworld

"As someone they trust and respect." Sinric muses, still tracing lazy patterns over Hannibal's skin. "That is the power you draw from your table, from your cooking. But you said yourself, such power comes from those who don't eat the meat of your kills?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"It is much stronger when they do," Hannibal says.

From:

thewidewideworld

"Surely that's not the only power you draw from the kill?" He asks curiously, head cocked as he studies Hannibal's face.

From:

cook_the_rude

"No," Hannibal says. "I remove these people the narrative and turn them around to serve mine, to change that of those I share them with."

From:

thewidewideworld

"You guide the thread, influence the weave to your own pattern and that of those around you." Sinric lays back, resting his head on Hannibal's chest. "No wonder you shine so."

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal nods. "I weave my own story, and flesh and blood make the fabric stronger."

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric leans up and kisses Hannibal softly but deeply, drinking in the taste of blood and flesh and power and light on Hannibal's lips.

From:

cook_the_rude

"We should..."

Hannibal sighs into the kiss.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric draws back enough to let Hannibal breathe, to let him speak. He wants to hear it.

From:

cook_the_rude

"One day, I should take you to my world again and cook for you in ways I can't here," Hannibal sys.

From:

thewidewideworld

He gives Hannibal a playful smile. "I'm bound to you already, Hannibal. Flesh and blood. But I would be interested to share a meal with you. To learn more about your power."

From:

cook_the_rude

"You might watch me cook," Hannibal says, "even if it's not the flesh of my enemies, or yours. Whoever it was that raised your hackles like that."

From:

thewidewideworld

"It would be a pleasure to watch you cook, in your own kitchen and your own domain."

Sinric shakes his head. "A miscommunication. That's all." At least that's what he's trying to convince himself. "I tried to help a newcomer, but my help was unwelcome." He tries to keep the irritation out of his voice.

From:

cook_the_rude

"What did he or she not want you to do?" Hannibal asks. "How rudely ungrateful."

From:

thewidewideworld

"He claimed to have been blinded so I looked to his thread to see what might have caused it. It would seem he has his own sight and sensed my seeking. He and his friend were angry at my presumption."

He huffs, still a little angry. "It was a joke at my expense. He had been blinded from childhood."

From:

cook_the_rude

"Any person with a disability has all the right in he world to joke about it," Hannibal says, "but playing tricks on strangers and then going off at them when the show concern is quite rude, and he deserves any trouble you may give him as a result."

From:

thewidewideworld

"I apologised but apparently that was not enough for them." He huffs softly. "Hence the rather abrupt music." He sounds almost apologetic. He was rather hard on the piano.

From:

cook_the_rude

"I liked it," Hannibal says. "All that fiery music. What was his companion like?"

From:

thewidewideworld

"It felt good to play out my heart." He smiles softly, flexing his long fingers. "And the piano is rather forgive of such violent passions."

He shakes his head. "I want no argument with them. It's not worth it. They're not worth it."

From:

cook_the_rude

"The piano is made to deal with such violent passions, to give voice to them and to turn them into fiery art," Hannibal says. "But do tell me more about them -- I solemnly promise I will not take that man's useless eyes and use them in my next batch of lamb jus."

From:

thewidewideworld

"It's a somewhat harder passion to express with the flute. One tends to run out of breath and grow faint before the necessary fever runs it's course." He muses, a little self-deprecating.

"Such things would be unwise. You need the haven of this place." He sighs. "And I need to stop letting the foolishness of others get under my skin." He huffs. "Or to be less tender-hearted to strangers. I'm not sure which."

From:

cook_the_rude

"Being completely honest," Hannibal says, "I like your passions expressed like this -- all of this, actually."

From:

thewidewideworld

"Playing recklessly with a beautiful musical instrument, drinking heavily of a strong liquor, demanding you use me roughly, then asking you to speak openly of that which you most artfully conceal."

"Perhaps it is my way of tempering my too tender heart." He sighs. "Or exact power when most I have been made to feel powerless."

From:

cook_the_rude

"I like that you take back your power," Hannibal says. "And you can use me as roughly as you want, in turn. I will be feeling that, the next time I touch myself."