(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[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.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I am still deeply awed," Hannibal says. "And feel that we're not quite done with being nefarious."

[thewidewideworld]

"I am still slightly frightened." Sinric admits with a playful smile. "Which begs the question, what kind of nefarious are you leaning towards? Because the amount of power I feel under my skin, I could turn this room into Bacchanalia with a handful of notes."

[cook_the_rude]

"I am thinking slightly more specific..." Hannibal says, smiling into Sinric's eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

"Tell me?" He asks breathlessly, taking Hannibal's hand. "I want to hear you say it."

[cook_the_rude]

"Niketas, you, me, and his young monk," Hannibal says. "In the morning, they wake up together and never quite fathom what of it was real and what was feverish dreams of wish-fulfilment. If we were there at all."

Plans like this, he can make with Sinric as with nobody else.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric grins and stands up on his toes to whisper into Hannibal's ear. "You are wicked and I adore you." He nips Hannibal's earlobe lightly as he lowers himself down.

"But that I shan't do." His voice turns subtly more serious as he turns to watch the dancing, leaning back against Hannibal, drawing Hannibal's arms around him. "Not for lack of desire or mischief. But out of greed."

"When Niketas breaks his vows and gives over to desire I want it to be with me, and of his own free will. I want to feel him break the yoke Leo forced on him, just to touch me. Hear his first cries of unfettered joy in years. Forgive me, my horned god. But that victory I want for myself."

[cook_the_rude]

"I understand," Hannibal says, remembering the jealousy he felt at Will kissing Alana, sleeping with Margot -- all part of the plan, but something of a sacrifice both times. "Yes -- for that moment, he should be yours alone."

[thewidewideworld]

There is a tingle in the air as Sinric weaves a net around them both, protecting them from notice as he turns to kiss Hannibal deeply. There is gratitude in that kiss, the deep gratitude of one whose nature is recognised by another. The feeling Hannibal craves from Will.

Sinric flashes warm gold eyes. "The others however, I'd rather enjoy seeding with lurid dreams. Like a siren singing delight to the unwary sailor."

[cook_the_rude]

"Make the young monk think, and dream, long and ponder..." Hannibal says, returning the kiss.

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes." Sinric grins and slips slowly out of Hannibal's embrace, fingers brushing down Hannibal's arm as they part.

That tingle remains as Sinric rejoins the dancing, lending his voice to stir up the beat. He dancing complex circles, drawing the others around and around till his orbit intersects young Lucus.

Through the thread of magic, Hannibal will see and feel as Sinric locks eyes with the shy and pretty young man, hands touching and brushing as they circle to the melody.

Images and sensation stutter like the beacon flashes of fireflies.

Lips in the hollow of Lucus's throat, the brush of skin and cloth at his thigh, quickened breath and racing heart.

The golden wings of angel caressing Lucus's naked flesh, drawing each touch out to exquisite torment.

The blood-hot hands of a horned god, laying him down and spreading him wide on a polished black altar.

The weight and musk of a hardened manhood on his lips as he goes to his knees before a blind priest, opening his mouth to accept to accept his sacrament.

Fleeting moments of thought, planted and left to grow. Lucus stumbles and Sirnic is there in a heartbeat to support him. "Enough wine and dancing, my friend." Sinric guides Lucus to a bench. "Perhaps you should consider retiring for the night?"

The young monk, confused and uncomfortably aware of growing warmth in his groin, nods and stumbles towards his bed.

Over his shoulder, Sinric flashes Hannibal a smile.

[cook_the_rude]

Across the room and the hubub, Hannibal winks at him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric makes his way back towards Hannibal, his hands straying to brush against several of the other monks as he does. A few of them find themselves walking a little stiffly a moment later.

Sinric wraps his arms around Hannibal's neck and kisses his cheek. "I think this party is easing to it's end. Shall we get some air?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes; they seem to be quite happy on their own," Hannibal agrees, looking around, then taking Sinric's hand.

[thewidewideworld]

"They are now." Sinric laughs, talking Hannibal's hand and leading him outside. The pre-dawn gloaming tips the horizon with pink highlights. Sinric snuggles close to Hannibal against the chill, facing east to the new day.

[cook_the_rude]

"New day," Hannibal says, "new roads, new history. A lot hinged on this night, this one place."

[thewidewideworld]

"I can feel them, stretching out from the tips of my fingers." He holds out his hand, fingers spread to touch the rays of the rising sun. "The threads of fate we touched tonight, the new paths forged. In mischief and in kindness."

He turns to kiss Hannibal's cheek. "Thank you."

[cook_the_rude]

"Thank you," Hannibal answers, "for allowing me to be part of it."

And meet a god.

[thewidewideworld]

"You were always meant to." Sinric smiles teasingly. "Or I would not have been able to bring you here and now."

As the sun crests the mountains and touches Sinric's skin, he closes his eyes.

The eyes that open and look up at Hannibal are not Sinric's. An old, old being smiles at him. There are no words but a lingering feeling that what happened here will not be forgotten.

And then Sinric is back, wrapping himself in Hannibal's arms to enjoy the sunrise.