(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

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs softly and leans back, watching the doctor with hungry eyes.

"Then I suppose it's up to me to choose." He lifts his skirts and moves up the bed to settle over Hannibal's hips.

With the flowing dress settled around him, hiding everything but his shapely ankles and the tight bodice pushing up and forward his small breasts, he has never looked so much like a girl.

Tight and hot but already slick and ready, Sinric presses himself against the good doctor's manhood, not taking him inside yet.

[cook_the_rude]

It seems to be just too much -- Hannibal's back arches, and he thrusts upwards, just once.

He says something that is definitely Lithuanian now.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric groans as he lets Hannibal push into him, lower himself to the hilt.

[cook_the_rude]

"Oh yes..." Hannibal says, giving a great sigh as he slides inside. "Yes!"

That is definitely English again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric stays still, clamped tight about the base of Hannibal's manhood as he leans in kiss and lick Hannibal's nipples. He enjoys the sounds coming from Hannibal far too much.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's back arches with the pleasure, but he's not getting anywhere -- he is trapped, and doesn't seem to mind at all.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs richly, kissing his way up to Hannibal's neck as he toys and teases the good doctor's nipples.

[cook_the_rude]

"You are," Hannibal gasps, "so very good at this!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles warmly and kisses the soft skin behind Hannibal's ear. "And you have more control than any man I've ever met." He flexes his inner muscles, "Most men would have me on my back and be using me hard by now."

[cook_the_rude]

"You do," Hannibal moans. "I take. You're good!"

[thewidewideworld]

There's something deeply satisfying about having fucked the vocabulary out of an educated and intelligent man.

He sucks lightly on Hannibal's earlobe as he starts to move. Slowly at first, flexing the muscles in his dancer's legs just enough to rock slowly against him.

[cook_the_rude]

What even is vocabulary?

Hannibal, apparently sure of being understood perfectly well, moans wordlessly and thrusts up towards Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves with him, keepting Hannibal's thrusts just as deep or shallow as he wants them, still keeping his control over the situation.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans and lies back, perfectly under Sinric's control while visibly taking great pleasure.

"You like?" he manages to ask.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs and leans in to capture Hannibal's lips in a slow, deep kiss. "Yes, I do enjoy this." He slides his hands up Hannibal's arms before cupping Hannibal's wrists and entwining their fingers. "Very much." He moves faster now, taking Hannibal deeper with a softly, breathless moan.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans much louder, thrusting up while submitting completely to Sinric's plans.

They are good plans.

[thewidewideworld]

He purrs and kisses Hannibal again, moving with him deeper and faster now. He keeps their fingers entwined and pinned to the bed, in so much as anyone as small as Sinric can keep anyone pinned.

[cook_the_rude]

If somebody wants to be pinned, as Hannibal quite apparently does? Well, then it works very well.

The actual pin, though, is Hannibal's.

[thewidewideworld]

He moans into Hannibal's neck, the silk of his gown rustling against Hannibal's chest as Sinric impales himself over and over, driving himself onto Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal throws back his head and moans, further and further gone with every thrust.

"Not - long," he moans.

[thewidewideworld]

"Then don't hold back." Sinric whispers, half begging. "Don't keep your passion from me when it is your fire I crave."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's hips jerk up; he thrashes and moans.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric rides him, hard and deep, making the most of Hannibal's needy rhythm. He moans roughly, shifting to take every thrust to the point of pleasure within himself.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes," Hannibal moans. "Do that!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric can't help but laugh at the rich demanding in the good doctor's voice. He sits up, his hands resting on Hannibal's chest as he drives himself hard. Even with this stimulation, he won't cum, not before Hannibal does but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel wonderful.