(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric lead Hannibal out of a doorway and into the warm light of spring afternoon. He cranes to look up, following the line of the wall and the buildings. "We're in the right place. The bath should be just through there."

He points to a alley that leads out the road and the grand entrance to the bath houses. "It is small by some standards. Only large enough for thirty or forty people. Many of the greater baths have closed for the cost to keep them is very high and many wealthy households have smaller bathes of their own."

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's eyes fall closed again, his hands reaching back to steady himself on the high-ended bench. He arches his torso as if offering himself up.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal closes in, bends his head and accepts the offering by taking one nipple between his lips, and suckling.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is trained as a singer, trained to make his voice carry so it's an effort to keep his moan soft and private as warm lips envelope his cool sensitive.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal cups Sinric's other breast with his hand as he keeps kissing, sucking and nipping.

[thewidewideworld]

Making it harder and harder to curtail his sweet voice. His snail fills further, peeking out from between his creamy thighs.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal slides down his hand to touch its peak with a curious finger.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gasps softly as his snail lifts its head to Hannibal's attention. "Few men make me rise as you do." He whispers.

[cook_the_rude]

"That is their loss," Hannibal says, running his finger along its underside.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keens softly and spreads his legs a little further in utter surrender. Hannibal has such power over him in this moment. Sinric bites his lip, trying to keep his voice from travelling.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal keeps kissing Sinric's breasts while his hand slides deeper between Sinric's legs, teasing the rim of his hole.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is tighter than normal, not having been touched for some time. He keens needily, stroking Hannibal's hair.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal pushes his fingertip a little deeper through that tightness, and suckles more strongly on the nipple between his lips.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric forces himself to relax, to not clench too tightly as Hannibal's finger enter him. He brings a hand to his mouth, trying to keep from crying out too loud, lest everyone in the bath hear them.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal now kneels down before him; he licks his finger thoroughly before sliding it back between Sinric's legs towards his hole, and then his tongue starts teasing the tip of Sinric's tiny pricklet.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sir!" He cries out sweetly and breathlessly. "You don't have to-" the rest of the words are lost in a moan. His strange dark curls fall down his back as his head falls back. "Oh yes! Please?"

[cook_the_rude]

"But I want to," Hannibal says, lips moving against Sinric's sensitive skin while his fingertip broaches Sinric's hole.

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh!" That draws a moan from him - as much the view of Hannibal on his knees as much as the feel of those wonderful lips. He flexes his inner muscles, clenching to draw Hannibal's finger deeper.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's finger pushes deeper, aiming for the sweet spot inside Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

He finds it, drawing a sharp shout from Sinric, his hips jerking roughly. "Sir! Hannibal!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's finger moves inside Sinric, even as his mouth moves on his little prick.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric covers his mouth with his hand to keep himself from becoming too loud as Hannibal works on him. He begins to leak, small pearls on Hannibal's touch as his peek draws nearer.

[cook_the_rude]

For a moment, Hannibal takes his mouth away as his finger is still working; he looks up at Sinric, licking his lips, his maroon eyes blown wide with arousal.

If Sinric looks down, he can see that Hannibal's prick is fully aroused, and glistening at the tip, standing up between his thighs as he is kneeling.

Then, he bends his head to his task again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric looks, and sees, and keens softly. In Hannibal, he sees everything he needs to see right now - hunger, desire. What he need to see to know he is beautiful, that he is wanted, that is his own small way, he is powerful.

That as much as Hannibal's ministration pushes him over the edge, crying out his fall to echo around the small room and the larger space beyond.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal laps it all up, suckling and licking to the last drop, the last twitch of pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric clings to the bench, fighting to keep his shaking knees from buckling. It overwhelms him every time, body and soul, this flood of pleasure and sensation. Almost too much to bear and so perfect that tears leak from the corners of his eyes.