(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Sinric leads Hannibal out through a door and out into the garden. He picks a path through the trees to what looks from the outside like small and simple marquee.

But inside it is something very different. Large as any room inside the bar, the floor is covered with richly patterned carpets, as soft underfoot as grass. The walls are draped with the finest silks. Silver lanterns hung from the roof cast geometric patterns from their cut work sides, coloured rainbow hues by glass inserts.

A table is set lavishly to one side with all the finest foods and drinks of Sinric's time.

But at the room's centre is a raised dais spread with silks and furs, cushions and bolsters; a bed worth of a king. Or an emperor.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal returns the kiss. "Never grow used to it," he says. "Always hold it special; savour each time it happens. But learn to trust your feelings."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and nuzzles down to Hannibal's throat, kissing softly. "And how best should I learn to trust feelings? By sharing them with those I trust most?"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tilts back his head and sighs at the touch of Sinric's lips.

"I'll make suggestions," he says, "when I can think clearly again."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs, glad to have managed to have clouded the taciturn doctor's mind, even for a moment.

He pulls gently at the top buttons of Hannibal's shirt, freeing them to kiss along the exposed line of his collarbone and hollow of his throat.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans into the touch and moans. "You're doing something to me..."

[thewidewideworld]

"I'd like to hope," Sinric purrs between kisses, freeing another buttons to kiss a line down Hannibal's sternum, "I'm fanning the flame of your passion."

[cook_the_rude]

"You're making them roar up, large and devouring," Hannibal moans.

[thewidewideworld]

He eases another button free and teases a nipple with the tip of his clever little tongue. "I hope so." His voice is thick and sweet as honey. "Because I want your fire, your passion."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's breath is coming in short, hissing gasps. "You're getting it!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles teasingly and take the other nipple into his mouth, hands still drifting downwards as he frees the rest of the buttons. He smoothes his hand over the flat expanse of Hannibal's stomach.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's hand tangles in Sinric's hair as he's giving himself over to the pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives a soft little gasp, still a little odd about his hair some times pushes past it to lavishes Hannibal's nipples with attention as he reaches for the waistband of the doctor's trousers.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal stumbles backwards, towards the bed. "I -- it's better to have something underneath me. I like how assertive you are today!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric helps him all the way out of his pants before backing him towards the bed. It's soft and comfortable, packed differently to a modern mattress with layers of straw and packed wool and down.

Sinric kneels on the edge of the bed, waiting for Hannibal to settle back on the many cushions. "I feel beautiful tonight. And strong." He straddles Hannibal's legs, "And more like myself than I have a long time. I want to celebrate that."

Still fully dressed, he leans over the Doctor to tease his nipples again, sucking and nibbling.

[cook_the_rude]

"This is quite some celebration," the doctor say, leaning back on the cushions, and simply opening his body to Sinric's ministrations. "Bold, shameless, and wise to the ways of the body."

[thewidewideworld]

"What have I be be ashamed of?" He asks with a warm, wicked laugh. The sort of laugh that has been known to make men shiver with unexpected desire that they have to hide under the banquet table. "Here, I am free to desire as I please. And share pleasure as I please."

He kisses his way lower, nuzzling the rim of Hannibal's navel.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal spreads his legs to let Sinric settle between them.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric makes himself comfortable between Hannibal's thighs in a rustle of silk and skin. The position afford Hannibal a perfect view down the top of his dress, the shape of it accentuating his feminine features as he kisses his way down to the hollow of Hannibal's hips and the dusting of dark curls ar the base of his manhood.

[cook_the_rude]

His manhood, which is already rising to the occasion as Hannibal smiles down at the sight Sinric is offering him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nuzzles softly at the base of his manhood, brushing his silken cheek against the heat of his shaft. He presses soft kisses here and there, breathing cool air over Hannibal's prick.

But doesn't take him into his mouth, not yet. He's in a teasing mood, enjoying the power he has to make this controlled man needy.

[cook_the_rude]

It stands straight as a church candle, ready and eager. Hannibal reaches up and touches his own nipples, needily recreating the sensation Sinric had given him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs and watches with warm eyes as Hannibal touches himself, sliding one hand up to tease his nipples.

How much would to take to make the good doctor beg? Or show his desire in other ways?

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor writhes into Sinric's touch, his back arching, then bending in his desire to feel all of that touch.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric pinches Hannibal's nipples softly as he presses a kiss to the head of his cock. His lips are warm and wet and invite taking but he moves with Hannibal's arching body, keeping his distance just so.

In part for the joy of drawing such pleasures out and it part as a goad.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal keeps rigid, as if it was taking all his control not to thrust rudely towards Sinric's lips.