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Sinric leads Hannibal up to his room, tiredly shedding his belt and pouches. The ones that contain far more than they should. "Would you care to share a bath with me?"

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Hannibal licks down all the way, tongue-tip nudging Sinric's hole.

He spreads his legs wider, opening himself utterly. It's been so weeks for him and he's tight but eager. "I would have you inside me." He pants, "after you've brought me to my fall. I would beg you to devour me."

Hannibal voices his assent with his lips around Sinric; he sucks deep enough to probe the little hole with his curled-up tongue at the same time.

There's so little of Sinric and yet it's always so wonderfully overwhelming what Hannibal can do with those generous lips of his. He opens slowly, his little snail ridged and needy to the attention.

Hannibal massages the entire short length with his tongue while keeping the tip firmly between his skilful lips.

Sinric cups the back of Hannibal's head, his hips moving in tiny aborted thrusts and the fire within and without flickers brightly.

Hannibal let's the prick-tip slip from his lips and applies his mouth completely to massaging the root of it, tongue darting at the hole.

Sinric whimpers with loss, his hot skin seeming all the cooler without Hannibal's lips. But the heat soon builds again as Hannibal works his mouth at the base of Sinric's scar. "Soon! Oh, Hannibal."

Hannibal works his lips on that spot and slides a hand up to Sinric's breasts again.

His gasps become higher, sweeter, his flames brighter. He feels the peek coming, arching sharply.

At the moment of orgasm, his skin turns bright gold, his cry of joy echoing off the walls and ceiling.

At that moment, Hannibal takes the tip between his lips, suckling every last little drop, savouring it like a rare nectar of the gods.

Sinric falls back onto the couch, sprawled and sated. He reaches a lazy hand down to stoke Hannibal's hair, drawing him up into a kiss.

He's fading back into a soft glow, his skin flushed and warm.

Hannibal holds him in his arms and kisses him gently while the glow fades.

Sinric smiles warmly, relishing the warmth of his afterglow. He strokes Hannibal's hair, eyes still warmly gold. "You make me shine." He whispers with deep appreciation.

"I feel honoured to," Hannibal says.

"As I am by your attention." Sinric smiles, kissing the corner of Hannibal's lip. He rubs a leg gently against Hannibal's hip, just enjoying the lethargy a little longer. "I still desire you inside me."

"And I desire to be there," Hannibal assures him warmly with another kiss.

Sinric rolls under his stomach under Hannibal, offering himself up.

Hannibal smoothly rises from the floor and kneels on the couch, between Sinric's knees, and touches a questing fingertip to Sinric's hole.

Edited 2017-08-06 08:47 (UTC)

"Yes." Sinric breathes softly, his over-sensitive nerves singing to the touch. He relaxes, opening to Hannibal.

{ooc: sorry, I swear I tagged this. Must have been eaten.}

Hannibal applies some more slickness to Sinric's hole, then puts his prick-tip against it and starts pushing, gently but insistently.

Sinric whimpers warmly, his heat enveloping Hannibal. He arches his long back, fearless to show his back, and his scars to Hannibal. There is no part of him needs to be hidden here.

Hannibal pushes inside, to the hilt, and keeps still.

Sinric's skin scintillates with gold, little flames dancing over the curves of his lower back.

He pushes up, fine muscles flexing as he goads Hannibal to thrust.

Hannibal takes a few deep breaths, but then his hips move, slowly withdrawing, then sinking back into the golden heat of Sinric's body.