thewidewideworld | (no subject)

[From here]

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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From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal takes a step closer yet, tilting his hips towards Sinric's touch.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric traces his rim, feeling the ring of muscles flex and contract to his touch. Before slipping just the tip, gold rim eyes studying Hannibal's reactions.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Oh yes," Hannibal says, the rim pinching the questing fingertip.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric drinks in the beauty of Hannibal. The strength and passion, the control and the willingness to surrender it.

Sinric draws him towards the shower, never removing his hand. But like before, never staining the perfect distance between them. A duet of flesh.

He runs the shower warmly hot, drawing Hannibal under the flow. Water is the universal lubricant; flowing down Hannibal's chest, his abdomen, his groin, pooling in Sinric's hand to ease the way as he starts to stroke Hannibal deeper. Keeping the pace of their dance, unhurried and shared.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal tilts his head into the water, droplets beading on his lashes as his hip cants backwards.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric kisses the curve of Hannibal's throat, down the crest of his chest. Slowly, in the rhythm of their dance, Sinric lowers himself to his knees. Finger still working slowly within Hannibal, he coaxes the fluttering muscle to relax.

His hair has returned to it's golden hue, shining as the water beads and glosses it. He kisses the tip of Hannibal's manhood, drinking the water that flows there.

Even kneeling, he doesn't take his eyes from Hannibal, fascinated by the lines and curves of him. The strength and the grace.

Edited Date: 2017-08-01 12:09 pm (UTC)

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal stands, like a statue in the rain, with just his flesh quivering softly under Sinric's touch.

From:

thewidewideworld

A sight Sinric can't but admire. He lays Hannibal's manhood on the flat of his tongue, drinking from him as the warm rain covers them both.

He reaches his free hand to Hannibal's, guiding it to his hair as he adds a second finger to his ministrations.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal sighs Sinric's name has his hand tangles in the wet golden strands.

From:

thewidewideworld

Feeling that Hannibal is content to let for him to keep the lead, Sinric tilts his head back, accepting Hannibal into his mouth.

He doesn't suck, just enjoying the weight and heft of Hannibal, his tongue caressing the thick vein as his clever long fingers move slowly.

He's in no hurry, building sensation slowly.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal leans back in the water, legs slightly splayed to allow Sinric access, giving himself over to slow, sweet sensation.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric bobs his head, taking Hannibal deeper. His fingers moving inside Hannibal form the chords as his hollowed cheeks play the melody. Creating a melody of Hannibal's passion.

From:

cook_the_rude

And indeed, Hannibal can no longer contain giving voice to his passion; he moans and gasps softly as Sinric keeps drawing more and more passion from him.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric watches him, never taking his eyes off Hannibal's face, drinking in his passion. He wants to see it, the moment that Hannibal's passion crests and breaks.

From:

cook_the_rude

It is going to take a while, as Hannibal isn't going to do anything to speed it on, savouring the process rather than striving towards the end result.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric is nothing if not patience. And skilled. And his shower isn't going to run out of hot water in a hurry. He builds the intensity slowly, over the better part of an hour before his fingertips begin to graze Hannibal's seat of pleasure, his throat closing tightly around the length of him.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal's knees begin to tremble, his muscles shaking and his soft moans turning to rough groans. After that long, lovely plateau, his climax is building.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric tilts his head back, taking Hannibal deeper into his throat as he encourages Hannibal's crescendo.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Soon!" Hannibal warns, and then he spills copious amounts into Sinric's mouth, his hole spasming helplessly around Sinric's fingers.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric drinks him down, gently massaging Hannibal's stones to milk every last drop of him.

He waits till Hannibal begins to soften before drawing back, kissing his tip before breaking contact. He smiles up, admiring the magnificence he's wrought.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal slowly slides down the tiled walls as his knees, indeed all his joints and muscles, go soft.

He holds Sinric's gaze the entire time.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric steadies him, in so much as he can. His legs have gone to sleep, his knees marked by the tiles. he'll need help standing but that can wait. For now, he wants to hold Hannibal and share in the warmth of his fall.