(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

To the east of the garden, hidden between the trees is 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.

At the room's centre is a raised dais spread with silks and furs, cushions and bolsters; a bed worthy of a king.

Sinric waits by the door, dressed in a flowing silk robe of rich gold and scarlet, his hair elaborately braided away from his neck and a mask of lace covering his eyes.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Few things taste as sweet as fear.

Eric swallows wetly and begins to move, trying to mindful of being gentle even if what he really wants is to rip Sinric apart.
Right now.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moans and moves with Eric's slow thrusts.

It would take much to rip Sinric apart, small and fragile as he is. Any touch too heavy will leave marks on his pale flesh.

He turns his face away from the wet, almost painful sounds of Eric drinking from him. He closes his eyes, letting his mind drift into fantasies of warmer, more familiar bodies.

[onceaviking]

Eric doesn't mind.

All his attention is focused on where his mouth meets Sinric's warm skin.

And a little on his deep slow movements.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves too, not passive in this act but seeking to take Eric deeper into him, bending and flexing to find that perfect spot that brings the most pleasure.

[onceaviking]

And Eric briefly moved his wet mouth from Sinric's neck to his lips, kissing him.
Because he wants to.

[thewidewideworld]

The wet, blood-slick kiss surprises, the iron tang strange on his lips. He opens himself to it none the least, kissing back passionately.

[onceaviking]

Eric likes kissing. Especially, when he is feeding and fucking at the same time.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moans into the kiss, now that he's past the strangeness of it. He flexes his lithe little body, aiming to bring them both more pleasure. His own little prick is still only half hard but he rarely pays it any mind.

[onceaviking]

Eric deepens the kiss - and then he moves his mouth away again, to return his attention to the bleeding wounds on Sinric's neck.

[thewidewideworld]

The lingering taste of blood on his lips only heightens the oddness of the situation.

Part of him wants to be on his stomach, just so Eric can fuck him deeper but he he doesn't know or trust Eric well enough to be sure he could stave off the residual panic. He contents himself with this, clenching and flexing with a control few men have.

[onceaviking]

His efforts get a low, deep purr, as Eric slides his big hands down his sides to tilt his hips a little more.

Going deep.

[thewidewideworld]

That draws a sweet cry from Sinric, throwing his head back against the lush pillows. He's still only partially hard but that doesn't matter to him. Pleasure is pleasure, whether he reaches the climax of other men or not.

His blood runs hot and fast, flavoured by his desire.

[onceaviking]

His blood floods Eric's mouth as he moves, and he swallows, mentally biting down on his rising urge to just tear him apart.

He repeats the motion that seemed to draw the greatest reaction. It'll have to be his last mouthful. Such is the terms when you're dealing with little, delicate things.

[thewidewideworld]

Just there! That sweet spot within him that causes his senses to sing. Unaware of Eric's urges, or the way his body is starting to strain against bloodloss. Only that Eric moving inside him blocks out all other thought.

[onceaviking]

Eric swallows one last time and then he bit's down on his own tongue to lick the wounds closed.

But he keeps up the movements.
It's only sensible, to make sure he'll come back for more.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is happy to be fucked for as long as Eric is willing. There will be no obvious end point for him as there might be for other so it is up to Eric when he has had enough.

[onceaviking]

He listens to him as he keeps moving. Both his vocal sounds and the sounds if his body, his blood, his bones.

[thewidewideworld]

His voice is high and sweet, a singing bird. His body is lean and finely toned, a dancer and a thing of pleasure. He flexes to meet Eric's thrusts, clenching just so to milk Eric's pleasure from him.

[onceaviking]

Eric's upper lip twitches as he feels Sinric flex around him.

This probably isn't the best idea.

Not that that will stop him.

He runs his cool (not cold) lips along his jaw.

[thewidewideworld]

"You warm." Sinric whispers in breathless Greek. "Or do I grow cold."

[onceaviking]

"Both," Eric replies in the same tongue.
"Your heat is warming me."

And when he brushes his lips against Sinric's lips this time, he leave a trace of his own blood behind.

Just a little.

He isn't sure how the little bird will cope.

[thewidewideworld]

The taste of blood is still a shock to him but he finds himself licking away.

Eric's blood doesn't act suddenly on him as it might to others, or in another place. It comes over him slowly, strangely, like strong wine and the light-headedness of orgasm. He blinks once, twice, his body mending as a strange warmth spreads through him. "Oh..."

[onceaviking]

Eric smiles, his mouth still painted red with blood.
He also slides a cool hand up Sinric's chest. Steadying.
Or not.

[thewidewideworld]

He clenching tightly around Eric as the big, cool hand move over his breast. His nipples harden, drawing a soft gasp from the sweet youth.

[onceaviking]

Eric makes a small growling sound and moves his hips in a slow, rolling movement.