(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[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?"

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

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

[thewidewideworld]

"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.}

[cook_the_rude]

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

[thewidewideworld]

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.

[cook_the_rude]

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

[thewidewideworld]

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.

[cook_the_rude]

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

[thewidewideworld]

Watching himself sink into that heat.

Sinric can only imagine how he must look - his heart shaped buttocks spread wide, flexing as at each thrust his body stretches to take Hannibal's length. The thought alone adds to his own desire.

He lifts himself onto his elbows, feeling the change of angle change the sensation, hair falling in a waterfall over one shoulder.

[cook_the_rude]

"Perfection," Hannibal breathes, smoothly hitting the sweet spot inside Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shudders and cries warmly. He can't peek again, not so soon. But that doesn't diminish his ability to feel pleasure. To revel in it. Each thrust stokes the flames, his body tightening in response.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal thrusts, slowly and steadily, giving and taking pleasure at the same time.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives himself over to it, meeting each thrust with a moan of pleasure. Balancing, he reaches back over his shoulder, holding a hand out to Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches for him as he keeps thrusting.

[thewidewideworld]

The position contorts Sinric's lean body just right, forcing him to arches his back sharper, focusing and grounding him in the flesh. "Hard." He whispers breathlessly. "Please?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Hard!" Hannibal promises, starting to thrust hard and fast and strong.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric throws his head back and cries for joy and pleasure. Gold flames lick them both, forming a corona of light around them.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gives a long moan and goes even faster.

[thewidewideworld]

"Fall to me." Sinric begs, his voice strange and powerful under the roof's wondrous acoustics. "Flood me with your desire."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal thrusts three more times and the spills, shouting with unrestrained pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's warm song joins Hannibal's, feeling the heat fill and fill him. He falls to the bench, sweaty and glowing, turning to grin up at Hannibal. "And now I am home."

[cook_the_rude]

Still gasping from his release, Hannibal gathers him close and kisses him. "You are," he murmurs. "Welcome."

[thewidewideworld]

{ooc: fade too. How lovely!}