(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

[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.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal stands to hold him in his arms and kisses his eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sir." He keens, pressing against him. His warm doe eyes wide as he lifts into his toes as he moves to fit Hannibal's stiff manhood between his thighs. "You make me feel so good, so loved."

[cook_the_rude]

"You are good," Hannibal whispers, moving his hips a little with pleasure at the touch. "And you are loved."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric whimpers, riding that lift and grind. "I desire your pleasure, sir. Please? I want your fire." There is a note of need still in his voice.

[cook_the_rude]

"In any way you want," Hannibal says. "Take me as you want me."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes his head. "I want you to take me, any way you want. Even rough if you wish. I trust you."

[cook_the_rude]

"Would you like me inside you, seeking my pleasure in your tight hole?" Hannibal whispers.

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes!" Sinric gasps. "Please, sir? I want you inside me."

[cook_the_rude]

"Do we still have the oil from earlier?" Hannibal asks, looking at the very few things they were bringing with them.

[thewidewideworld]

"On the shelf, just outside the alcove. You will find some there." He doesn't trust his knees to fetch it himself.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal goes, and soon returns with the vial. "Everything ready for patrons' convenience," he says, smiling. "What a considerate place."

He unstoppers the vial -- the oil is very lightly scented -- and slathers some over himself before pouring it over his fingers and starting to work it into Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric begins to answer but his words are lost in a moan as Hannibal's slick fingers enter him, still sensitive and trembling. It is an effort to stand, his hand braced on the top of the bench at his back.

With only a moments hesitation, he gently draws Hannibal's fingers from him and turns around, bending over the benches perfectly curved armrest. It is no small thing, even after all this time, to offer someone his back but he trusts Hannibal utterly.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal grips him by the hips, positions the tip of his cock right at Sinric's hole, and then slowly pushes himself inside.

[thewidewideworld]

Slick as they both are and as careful as Hannibal was, Sinric is still tight. The slow push burns inside him, just right. Just so. Pushing the air out of him in a moan.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good?" Hannibal asks, pushing forward a little more. "You haven't had this in a while, have you?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Yes," Sinric whimpers and shakes his head. "Not for some time. Not for a very long time." Except for that time on the bathroom floor with Ragnar, no-one has entered him so since- well, since Leo's men. But Sinric is trying very hard not to think about that.

[cook_the_rude]

"Tell me to stop if I hurt you," Hannibal says and pushes right inside.

Then, he slowly starts thrusting.

[thewidewideworld]

"I trust-" But the rest is lost in a cry as Hannibal fills him. That is what he as missed about this - being filled so deep, feeling himself stretch as he is taken.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gives a little moan as he thrusts again, his voice low, probably for the sake of sparing the other patrons.

Who probably can tell what is going on here by now, anyway.

[thewidewideworld]

If they don't know by now, they're fools. But more likely very jealous. Because Sinric isn't able to keep his voice so low, each thrust filling him in ways he had almost forgotten.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal speeds up his thrusts, just a little, tilting his hip so he will brush Sinric's sweet spot every time, if at all possible.