OOM: for Ganymede

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's room in Milliways is quite simple, for his standards.

There is a book case full of well-worn old books, a small fireplace with a comfortable-looking chair, some historical prints of Florence, and a small harpsichord. There's a desk, and a desk chair to go with it. Most furniture is vintage midcentury modern, unobtrusively luxurious and classic. He even has what must be a small kitchen, made up from two towers and an island.

Everything is rich, warm wood and mature colours -- an off-grey, and some accents in oxblood red.

Comments

[the_cupbearer]

"If you keep everything as clean as you do your kitchen, then we'll have some very interesting fun."

[cook_the_rude]

"I know how to clean up, or avoid spots," Hannibal smirks. "People can spill their guts to me, but the furniture won't notice."

[the_cupbearer]

"Is that literally or figuratively," he asks delicately.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes," Hannibal answers, smiling.

[the_cupbearer]

"I trust we'll be keeping the spilling of anything vital to me on the latter level," he says, amused.

[cook_the_rude]

"What's vital, to an immortal?" Hannibal asks.

[the_cupbearer]

"Anything more than about a pint of blood, let's say," Ganymede replies, head tilting as he circles Hannibal slowly. "Surely you wouldn't need much more than that if you aim to keep me useful," he murmurs with a slow smile.

[cook_the_rude]

"A pint of blood can go quite far," Hannibal says. "In ruining a rug, for example."

[the_cupbearer]

"Do you plan on using my pint of blood to ruin anything?" Ganymede asks, silky and gentle-voiced.

[cook_the_rude]

"I had not, right until now," Hannibal says, smiling.

[the_cupbearer]

"And now that I have?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Now that you have, I wish to taste immortality," Hannibal says.

[the_cupbearer]

"There are probably easier ways to do that," he says. "Taste immortality."

He could think of a few offhand.

[cook_the_rude]

"I can't easily think of any recipe involving semen," Hannibal muses. "Blood, on the other hand..."

[the_cupbearer]

"White Russians," he chuckles. "There's a whole cookbook with it, actually," Ganymede says. "You should look it up."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal snorts with laughter. "Oh Ganymede, what a fount of knowledge you are!" he says. "That way, we'll never get down to business, because now I need thate cookbook."

[the_cupbearer]

"Yes, you do," he says, slipping a hand around Hannibal's waist, familiar enough to pull it off. "But you needn't get it right this moment, I assure you you can collect it any time."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal willingly follows.

"I think for the next bit," he ponders, "you will need to be naked."

[the_cupbearer]

"You think?" he asks, amused, and beginning to take off his shirt of dark blue breezy cotton, and bright white trousers. "Your surety could use some work."

It doesn't take him long to disrobe, though, and he ends up very shortly bare save for the bleached snakebone choker and an anklet.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal takes off his jacket and rolls up his shirtsleeves.

"Would you lie on the desk, please?"

[the_cupbearer]

"Face up, or face down?" he asks politely.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal thinks for a moment.

"Face up, please," he decides.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede obliges him, laying back comfortably across the desk although his legs below the knees dangle down.

"And what now?"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal takes a scalpel out of his drawer of drawing materials.

"Patience, Ganymede."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede raises a brow, but lays back to watch Hannibal interestedly, head resting on his bent arms. His chest is slim, but deep enough when he breathes to make him look muscular, capable.

"Am I to be your canvas?" he asks silkily, chin lifting while he licks his lips.