thewidewideworld | (no subject)

[from here}

Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

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From:

cook_the_rude

"Both," Hannibal says, smiling more widely than he usually ever does. "Both is good."

From:

thewidewideworld

"Chapel first. Than library. That way you can linger over the collection." He leads Hannibal towards the east wing, moving politely fast.

The chapel is small and thankfully untended at this time of day. Sinric presses the door closed behind them, pushed a pew across the door. "It won't stop someone from coming in, if they really want to but it might offer us some privacy."

From:

cook_the_rude

"They might, for one thing, realise they are not wanted in here," Hannibal says, sitting on the pew and holding his hand out to Sinric.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric takes his hand and moves to straddle Hannibal. "I can live with that." He kisses Hannibal, deep and slow.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal strokes Sinric's back and hips, pulling him closer while kissing him back greedily and wetly, his tongue demanding and his teeth a subtle presence.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric gives himself over to it, welcoming the kiss. He runs his hands through Hannibal's hair. "On the altar?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"Hmmm," Hannibal agrees, "just like the vision. Apollo will love us for it."

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric laughs and kisses him again before getting up. He sheds his hose and perches on the altar. He grins at Hannibal and slides a hand up his thigh, ruffling up the skirt of his tunic.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal stands, and slowly stalks towards him, his hand nestling at the clothes by his crotch as he does so.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric smiles and holds hand out to Hannibal, drawing him into a kiss. "Will you kneel before me?" He ask, his voice thick with desire.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal holds his eyes for a moment after the kiss, then wordlessly drops to his knees.

Sinric has come so far.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric hums approvingly, stroking Hannibal's hair. "My lovely monster." He purrs, tilting his hips forward. "Let our pleasure be a tribute to Apollo."

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal pushes up Sinric's tunic, and inhales deeply.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric smells of desire and Milliways soap and that particular scent that is his own.

One hand resting in Hannibal's hair, he leans back, arching his body. The thought and sight of Hannibal in his knees, ready to worship at this most pagan altar is enough to make his little snail stir and swell.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal drops a kiss onto its very tip before licking a long stripe all along the underside of it, his hands on Sinric's knees to spread his legs a little further.

From:

thewidewideworld

The acoustics of the little chapel are perfect and Sinric's muffled moan resound perfectly.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal savours them like the finest music as he licks that way yet again.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric gives himself over to the feeling utterly, in joyful abandonment. Singing his pleasure in moans and sighs as he hardens fully.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal takes the little snail between his soft and articulate lips, and suckles.

From:

thewidewideworld

It doesn't take long to draw Sinric into wildness. He has been on a knife's edge of desire, if rather confused desire, all day. But here, with Hannibal, his need is simple. And Hannibal knows how well how to stoke that fire.

He lifts his hips, tilting back. "Ready me? So I may beg you to take me after I fall." he fumbled in his pouch with the hand not woven in Hannibal's hair for the very 21st century tube of lube.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal takes it, all words silenced by Sinric as he licks and suckles, coats his fingers, and slips the first slowly inside.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric cries out, clenching tight around Hannibal's fingers. He clenches a hand in Hannibal's hair, trying to rein his magic in. He wants to let it fly free but the risk of having anyone walk in on them is too high. Which gives their pleasure an edge of danger.