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Sinric sets the plates aside, taking one of the towel and Hannibal's hand. He leads Hannibal a little into the woods, along the shore of the lake. There's another little patch of sand, a beachlet protected from view by the trees.

He spreads the towel and lays down on it, drawing his tunic up his leg. "Just as we were before."

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Hannibal's reddish eyes are still positively glowing with the aftermath of his please as he looks back into Sinric's face.

Sinric reaches up a shaking hand and strokes Hannibal's face. He can't help but shake his head, a bemused smile on his lips. He has a feeling there will never be normal between them, as it is with other people. There's more with them. A depth of honestly, of sharing that Sinric isn't sure he could open himself so with another.

"Sinric."

Hannibal leans in to kiss him.

"Hannibal." Sinric smiles, returning the kiss deeply. "That was- deep."

"It was sex and magic mixing," Hannibal says. "The intensify each other and feed on each other, too."

"As we do." Sinric nods, stealing another kiss. "Mixing and feeding on each other." His eyes shine. "I don't believe I could go so deep with any other."

"Not even your Vikings, whose story hinges on you?"

He stretches out to be comfortable, fingers trailing over Hannibal's bare shoulders.

He shakes his head. "Not Athelstan. He's still tangled in a darkness of his own. As much as I wish I could free him, he has to make his own way out. With Ragnar's help, I hope. And Ragnar-" He shrugs. "Deep, yes but different. Pleasure, joy, sensation."

He takes Hannibal's hand and runs it up his chest, resting Hannibal's fingers over his throat. "But not the blood and dark places. The hidden heart."

"The hidden heart that we can open up and look into," Hannibal agrees.

"Look into without fear or judgement." Sinric nods, bringing Hannibal's hand up to kiss. "There is a freedom in that."

"A rare freedom that I don't have at home," Hannibal says. "That I hope to have one day with Will, but not like this..."

"Nor I. Nor any man, I think." He acknowledges.

He looks deep into Hannibal's eyes, a rim of gold around his irises. It is a thread he knows and has seen before. He has no fear of being swept away, as the house of glass will one day be.

"The freedom you share with Will will be unique. As you both are unique. The patterns your conjoined dance will leave upon the earth will be like no other, and none but you who share it will fathom it's depth and perfection."

From Sinric's lips it is both prophesy and promise.

"But still, that will not take anything from what we two share," Hannibal says. "One can happen, and the other can happen. There are many forks in reality."

Sinric looks into Hannibal's eyes, cupping his cheek again. "Hannibal, I have no doubt of the passion we share. I have no jealousy of Will. Your story hinges on him, just as his does on you.

"And the Vikings', on you," Hannibal says, nodding. "Still, I sometimes feel I do not treasure you as much as you deserve, and feel a little rude for it."

"I feel treasured in your arms, and comfortable in myself in your company." Sinric kisses him, deep and slow. Lovely. "There's nothing rude in that. We are both on complex paths that make us beholden to forces beyond ourselves. What we share here is a pleasure and a joy."

"That it most certainly is," Hannibal agrees, savouring the kiss.

Sinric strokes Hannibal's shoulder. "Let us enjoy what we have. And the depth we share."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Although, I confess, the depth of magic and pleasure we share has left me rather hungry. Shall we find something wonderful for desert?"

"Oh yes, that it is an excellent idea," Hannibal says. "Something combining pomegranates, green tea, and ice cream, maybe?"

Sinric hums happily and kisses him again. "I adore how swiftly you came to an answer for that." He stretches, cat-like, under Hannibal, clenching where he can still feel Hannibal inside him.

"That," Hannibal says with a chuckle, "is what they call a core competency."

[[OOC: Nearing a wrap here?]]

Sinric laughs and kisses him again.

{ooc: perfect, thank you.}

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