(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]

"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.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal sighs deeply, dragging the round, softly moistened tip of his prick along the furrow between Sinric's legs, from back to front.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets his breath come in little moans, arching into the heat of Hannibal's member. He reaches up behind the pillows for the little bottle of scented oil he keeps stashed there, slicking his palm. He slips a hand between them, oil dripping on his hip as he takes Hannibal's manhood between his fingers, stroking to coat him.

[cook_the_rude]

"Oh yes," Hannibal moans, dragging his slick prick between Sinric's legs again, and getting tangled in the folds of skin by his scar.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moans and reaches to grip Hannibal's rear, pulling him closer.

Still slick fingers tease down his crack as Sinric arches against him, angling his sensitive scar just so.

[cook_the_rude]

"Oh yes," Hannibal breathes, opening up to Sinric's touch. "You in me, then I in you!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moans his approval, slipping long, clever fingers inside Hannibal. He teases Hannibal's opening, feeling the tight ring of muscle take him in.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal angles himself to push against Sinric's own opening.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shifts to accommodate him, to welcome and invite him. Sadly his arms aren't so long that he keep pleasuring Hannibal deeply as he tilts his hips up to take Hannibal inside him.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal sighs at the loss of that touch, but instead he now is able to pleasure Sinric deeply, thrusting at that place deep inside him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric mutters an apology as he give himself over to the feeling, arching into each thrust to feel Hannibal's length. He sings in pleasure, feeling his seat of pleasure send ripples of sensation through them both.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes!" Hannibal calls out. "Oh yes!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric could no more keep this feeling from Hannibal than he could from himself. His eyes glow warmly as he lets his song flow. All he feels, Hannibal feels too.

The heat of their bodies, the firmness of Hannibal's weight on him, the brush of Hannibal's long hair on the curves of his breasts, the pull and press of each thrust as his body gives over to it.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal closes his eyes and moans deeply as he keeps on moving, slowly and deeply.

[thewidewideworld]

Paedicator and pathicus both in equal measure.

Sinric runs his hands over Hannibal's skin, leaving trails of spreading warmth in the wake of his fingertips. He sings pleasure and trust and gladness, of the golden lark and feathered stag entwined, dancing in both shadow and light. In song and the silence between notes.

[cook_the_rude]

"Take as much as you need," Hannibal whispers, "because this is beautiful, and I will give it as much as I can!"

He keeps thrusting, smoothly, as pleasure and visions both dance through their minds and souls.

[thewidewideworld]

"What I take, I give in kind." Sinric whispers, his voice unearthly in the acoustics of the room. "And where nourished, give satisfaction."

Warm licks of golden fire dance off his skin, spreading over Hannibal's where their bodies touch.

His kisses taste like good brandy and that moment before a dish is flambéed. When the potential is there; like a haze, waiting to catch light.

He dances in the halls of Hannibal's memory palace, making the Norman church ring with debauched delight.

The golden godling and the oil-black creature crowned in horns move together, the world resounding with their shared pleasure.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal feels as if he could do this forever, without stopping, world without end.

Alas, he is only human after all, and in the end it will turn out that even this, has an end.

[thewidewideworld]

All things must end. For without end, they are without value.

He feels Hannibal's peak as keenly as his own. Winding them both together, holding in his core the potential, the moment before, the raw energy pent up within, he lets go, bringing them both over the edge and into the blinding abyss of pure pleasure.

[cook_the_rude]

It takes Hannibal a while to come out of the abyss again and focus his blood-warm eyes on Sinric's face.

[thewidewideworld]

When he does, he will find Sinric alert and bright, no sign left of his earlier exhaustion.

Sinric curves a hand around Hannibal's cheek, drawing him into a loving kiss. "Thank you."

[cook_the_rude]

"Thank you," Hannibal murmurs back. "That was amazing. A free-fall of golden velvet."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric repeat the phrase in Latin, smiling. "I like the way that sounds." he kisses the tip of Hannibal's nose. "I shall have to be careful. I'll ruin you before you can be with Will."

[cook_the_rude]

"You will not," Hannibal assures him. "I am with everybody for exactly who they are."