(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[From here}

Sinric leans on Hannibal all the way back to his room. Inside it is warm and dark, a handful of candles burning in a sconce, giving the nook around the bed welcoming air. "Will you undress me? I think I've been in this costume long enough."

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is still holding on to him as the door closes behind them.

"The boots first, I think."

[thewidewideworld]

"Boots first." He agrees, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "What... what did you see? In the shadows."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal kneels to pull off Sinric's left boot first, candle light shimmering on his still-long, smooth hair.

"Tentacles," he says. "The tail of the Dragon. Crashing waves and whispering trees, and the shadow of a raven-feathered stag."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric reaches down the stroke Hannibal's sleek hair. "But not fear? Not you. The shadows hold no fear for you." It's not quite a question.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal looks up at him, eyes glowing almost red. "I know that for many people, I'm the scariest thing in the shadows."

[thewidewideworld]

"Only those who don't know you as well as I." Sinric smiles.

But that smile falters. "For you, fear is more complex than the scales of a dragon or the beat of waves wearing away the earth. Deeper places, kept behind closed doors."

His eyes are gold in the candle light, like tarnished coins.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal listens, and pulls off the right boot.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs and puts aside the winged crown. "Forgive me, my friend. I fear I reached too deeply tonight."

He takes Hannibal's hands and draws him up into a kiss.

[cook_the_rude]

"There is no 'too deeply' for me," Hannibal says. "But you are exhausted, so reach no further. Instead, I will pamper you with food, drink, pleasure, sleep."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles honestly. "I'm very grateful for that. That you understand, and have no fear of me. I saw how Father Harman looked at me when he felt the shadows lengthen."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches up to cup Sinric's cheek in his hand. "He is a Jesuit; they carry a certain haut-gout, traditionally. Don't mind him."

[thewidewideworld]

"It makes me wonder what he saw." Sinric muses, turning just enough to brush his lips over Hannibal's palm. "Teja too."

He sighs again and, with Hannibal's help, unlaces the bodice and slip the white dress over his head. Beneath he's dressed in a gold Lycra strapless push up bra and gold boyleg shorts. All very 80s.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal smiles, and reaches to undo the bra, following that by kissing the tips of Sinric's small breasts.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hums a grateful assent, leaning back on his hands. His head aches back, throat exposed, he is the very image of trusting desire.

[cook_the_rude]

Holding Sinric's narrow midriff in his strong, warm hands, Hannibal kisses his way up over the collarbones to Sinric's throat.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's breathing quickens, trusting his weight to Hannibal as he lifts a hand to free Hannibal's hair from it's binding.

It's nice this long and he can't help but purr as it falls over Hannibal's shoulder to brush his skin.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal looks up at him, hair messy and eyes glowing a dark red.

[thewidewideworld]

"The shadows you cast are frightening and beautiful." Sinric whispers, tangling his hand in Hannibal's hair to draw him into a passionate kiss.

[cook_the_rude]

"But you are not afraid," Hannibal whispers, before giving himself to the the kiss with all his passion.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric drinks in those kisses, letting the passion in them renew him. He slides a food between Hannibal's thighs, running his instep over the fabric of Hannibal's beeches.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tilts his hips into the touch, and sighs a little with pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hums happily, shifting to trace the length of Hannibal's inside seam with his foot, brushing softly over the bulge at his crotch.

[cook_the_rude]

"Ahhhh..."

Hannibal can't stop himself from giving voice to his need.

[thewidewideworld]

Just as Sinric wants, and needs. The sexual energy give him back the colour be lost downstairs. "Shall I undress you?" he asks, stroking lightly with the flat of his delicate foot.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes," Hannibal says. "Yes, please. Please do."