(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

[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."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sits up and pucks at the buttons and laces of Hannibal's costume, kissing the bared skin of his throat as he pushes back Hannibal's waistcoat. He indulges in the feel of shirt beneath, silk and soft.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal closes his eyes, and sighs; between his smiling lips, sharp teeth shimmer.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans in to kiss the corner of Hannibal's lips before kissing him fully, his tongue playing softly over Hannibal's sharp teeth.

He unbuttons Hannibal's shirt slowly, running his fingers through the soft matt of hair at his chest.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal opens his eyes a crack.

"This nourishes you, rather than tax you," he murmurs. "You look already much livelier, just from touching me."

[thewidewideworld]

"Not just touching." Sinric answers, stroking down the planes of Hannibal's chest, fingers grazing his nipples. "Sharing. Pleasure, contact. Intimacy. It wouldn't be like this with someone I didn't trust. Someone I wasn't open to."

[cook_the_rude]

"The pleasure I feel replenishes your energy that has been drained by your magic," Hannibal muses. "Should I ever find you close to dying from exhaustion after shifting the world on its axis, I would have to feed you my seed."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs warmly. "The pleasure you feel, the pleasure I take in giving it. All these things. And yes, that might well revive me. But I have no plans to reshape the world just yet."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal smiles at him. "You might need to, in the end."

[thewidewideworld]

"Do you see my thread, dear one?" Sinric asks, kissing Hannibal's throat, pinching Hannibal's nipples lightly. "Can you tell me what I can't see?"

[cook_the_rude]

"I see the branches of your antlers," Hannibal says, gasping at the touch. "Your Viking friends -- would you let them suffer -- when you can help it?"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric follows his touch with kisses, easing the sting of his pinches with soft licks and cool air.

He leans back to consider his answer. Honestly and deeply rather than answering on instinct. "When I know such suffering is fated, and cannot be prevented with doing harm to more than they can know... yes. I fear I would. And I will. I know that."

[cook_the_rude]

"That will hurt terribly."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans back, pulling Hannibal with him. The weight of him is reassuring. "As it did knowing Constantine would die. But that is the price of the sight. And I have no choice but to pay."

He strokes Hannibal's hair, loving the way the long strands fall through his fingers. "But with that sight, I see you. I see all the beauty of the weave. All the branches. All but my own."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal covers him, warm and heavy, looking deep into his eyes. "But there are branches that we share."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shifts ever so slightly so his lean thigh fits just right between Hannibal's, rocking against him slowly. He looks up into those blood warm eyes, his own dull gold and glowing in the flickering candle light.

"Hand in hand, we stand outside the collapsing church. With no more or less cruelty in our hearts than the god who let it fall."

[cook_the_rude]

"We exist, and it scares people," Hannibal says. "Me for different reasons than you, but it still scares them."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric kisses him deeply, drinking in the otherness of their coupling. Spreading his legs wide, he welcomes the press of Hannibal's bulge, reaching down to free Hannibal from the last of his costume.