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Sinric's lips are hot and wet, swollen from use and quick to return the passion. "Take me." He begs before kisses. "Ravish me."

"Gladly," he growls, and he leans on Sinric, pushing him down onto the towel with his kisses.

Sinric sprawls out like a sacrifice on an altar, willing and flushed. He whispers words of adoration and desire in Greek, calling for Emcee to slake his lust.

Emcee presses kisses down the center of his slender throat, teeth grazing the pale skin. Lower down, he kisses his breasts almost worshipfully, licking and sucking his nipples. He knows how sensitive they are. He loves the way they feel under his tongue.

Sinric cries softly, wrapping his legs around Emcee and arching up to meet his kiss. "My mirror! How well you know me!"

And he loves the way Sinric reacts.

"I wouldn't be me, if I didn't know you, darling," he murmurs against his breast, sweeping his lips over his nipple.

With one hand he reaches down between their bodies, fingertips finding and teasing his opening to ready him.

Sinric spreads himself wider, pressing against Emcee's fingers with greedy eagerness to be plundered. "Nor I, you." He breathes, fingers chasing up and down Emcee's back with caresses and light scratches.

Emcee aligns himself, and with a throaty moan, presses into Sinric. He runs a hand down his side and grasps his hip, thrusting deeper, as deep as he can.

As tight as Sinric is, they both feel every inch as Emcee enters him, groaning his pleasure as he stretches and flexes. He buries a hand in Emcee's hair, pulling and squeezing and holding close through the glorious burn of it.

When Emcee can push no further, when their hips are as flush as they can be, he pauses to pant heavily against Sinric's neck. He closes his eyes and savors this sensation, their bodies locked together.

Sinric whispers words of encouragement and desire in a dozen languages. He doesn't need magic with Emcee. Just this - the race of their hearts, the heavy blows of their breath. Skin on skin, hot as fire. The weight of Emcee's body on his. He arches up, finding no more room, there is no closer they can be and it's glorious.

"Oh, Sinric," Emcee breathes across his cheek, brushing his lips over his skin, "you feel so wonderful like this. You always do."

"As you feel in me." Sinric groans, clenching around him. "So right."

Emcee groans in response, kissing him and sliding a hand down his lithe body. With his palm pressed to the small of his back, Emcee begins to move his hips. Small, controlled thrusts at first, just to feel himself inside Sinric.

Sinric moans sweetly into each slow thrust, trusting Emcee to find just the right spot. He buries his face in Emcee's neck, whispering little whimpered words of desire.

Emcee purrs throatily, stirred by Sinric's moans and whispers, the heat from his breath and body.

Shifting his weight just so, he draws back his hips and thrusts just a little harder, going deep.

"Yes!" Sinric purrs, hitching his legs a little higher to wrap tighter around Emcee's hips. "Such pleasure. Such bliss. To feel you, so deep in me. Adelpheós, my brother!"

Emcee echoes Sinric's words with more moans and eager, breathy cries that are hot against his skin. The feel of his thighs clamped around him spurs him to thrust faster, harder, stoking his desire.

He's never been anyone's brother before. But truly, Sinric is the closest to come to that. Emcee feels it often, mostly when they sing together, but most definitely when they are one in the throes of passion.

As does Sinric. The kinship he shared with Probus and the others. Part of his life he misses deeply. It is a whole on his heart that feels warmed and healed with Emcee. Alive again. In song or in passion, or just in the easy company of each other.

He looks deep into Emcee's eyes, feeling a connection deeper than words and hotter than blood. He feels desire coil in his gut, tight as a spring and growing tighter with each thrust.

Emcee returns Sinric's gaze and holds it, seeing not only just his reflection, but himself. Ever since they first connected, the reminder never fails to take his breath away.

He kisses him, cupping his cheek in his hand. The lusty force of his thrusts are a contrast to the tenderness of his lips. And there is no mistaking that he wants him, every inch of his body, inside and out.

Sinric sees it too. Who he is, and how he is. And how right he feels in himself when Emcee is with him.

Sinric melts into Emcee's kiss, meeting thrust for thrust with the flex and force of his body. He signs richly, closing his eyes. Giving himself over to the perfection of it. Of their balanced selves.

He lets the melody of passion overflow from his lips in song, hot and babbling.

Sinric's song is bringing him to his peak, just as Emcee can feel the ecstasy rising between them. It's inspiring him to come.

"Yes," he moans with delight, mixing English and German, "oh, Sinric, yes... Do you feel it, darling... Come with me, darling, come...!"

Sinric gasps, high and sweet as the passion overtakes him, making his body tighten around Emcee. He cries Adelpheós as he falls, eyes bright and hot.

Emcee surges with him and cries out, their voices even now in harmony, and they fall together, breathless in each other's arms.

Emcee buried his face in Sinric's hair, the scent of his body mingling with earth and grass and the spring breezes.

"Hold me inside you just a little longer, darling," he whispers.

Sinric tightens his inner muscles, holding him there. He kisses the side of Emcee's neck, nuzzling softly.