cook_the_rude | OOM: Curious about Sin

Sinric's soft felt slippers make almost no sound on the floor as he moves to the couch, feeling the doctor's eyes on him always. He keeps his eyes low, unable to keep the blush from his cheeks as he kneels in the couch, his legs tucked neatly under him. "Sir."

"Please, do remove your clothes so I may see," the doctor says, with a little smile.

Pause.

"And would you rather I remove this thing" -- gesturing at the pale grey suit -- "where you can see me come out of it, or change into a robe in the other room?"

It is a genuine offer, an unbiased choice.

"I would rather you be as you wish to be." He answers, removing his slippers first and setting them under the couch before standing to remove tunic and light, billowing pants slowly and obediently. "Than be uncomfortable in clothes that ill suit you."

He folds and sets the clothes aside, his hair half falling over his chest like Lady Godiva.

The doctor nods, and briefly steps into the other room which contains, most likely, some small bathing facilities. After no more than a moment, he returns in a silken robe of intricate paisley pattern, held by a black silken belt.

"So much better," he declares, "but this is to be about your body, not mine."

He stands before the couch, observing Sinric's body, then reaching out to brush aside the hair and touch one hard nipple.

"So much more generous than what we men are usually endowed with," he comments, rolling it between his fingers.

When he returns, Sinric has resumed his position on the couch - kneeling with his legs tucked under him, back straight, eyes down and his hands resting softly on his thighs. Submissive and obedient but very much on display.

"I-" Sinric swallows, confessing softly. "I should like to see your body at some point. If you will permit, sir."

But all speech is lost in a soft gasp as the doctor toys with his nipples. It's hard to imagine them getting harder, the areola textured with goosebumps.

The doctor runs his finger around the rim of the areola, touching the line of goose-bumps that signify the nipple's full arousal.

"You will," he promises.

His gaze slowly slides down Sinric's body, towards his tiny penis.

With his other hand, he now reaches up to tweak the other nipple.

Sinric bites his lip, failing to hide the moan that tumbles out. Almost a whimper as his little cock begins to stir. Very little at first, the head peeking out as his tiny member engorges.

The doctor kneels before the couch, as if to inspect the tiny cock's reactions very closely; his hands remain on Sinric's breasts, massaging nipples and areolas.

Sinric moves his hands to his sides, keeping them out of the doctor's way as the doctor examines him. He can't help but lean into the touch, pressing his breasts into the touch.

Slowly, not unlike the snail, his little cock unfurls, filling out and thickening but still some way from anything that could be called hard.

His hands still rubbing strongly on Sinric's breasts, the doctor bends his neck a little and touches the little snail with his tongue, tasting the tip.

The sound that comes from Sinric then is a whimper, pure and high. The sweet sound of pleasure and innocent surprise. His skin tastes of his time in the bar - clean water and the faintest traces of soap. His scent lacks the musk of masculinity, more like a woman's clean skin.

"Spread your legs for me," the doctor says, his lips moving against Sinric's pricklet while his hands keep working his breasts.

Edited 2015-08-02 13:27 (UTC)

"Yes, sir." Sinric breathes, spreading his knees, hands half tucked at the small of his back. His body language screams prey, willing sacrifice. In that moment there is little Hannibal could ask of him that he wouldn't give.

Hannibal takes one hand away from Sinric's breasts to slide down the length of that little prick, rubbing over the scar before touching the rim of his anus.

"May I put my finger inside you?" he asks.

Sinric whimpers again, now almost completely hard. "Please, sir?" He begs. "Please do?" Already he spreads his knees just a little more.

With a little bottle he takes from the pocket of his robe, the doctor coats his middle finger to slickness, and then slides it inside Sinric's anus, directly aiming for the prostate as if he had done this many, many times.

The slickening substance is slightly cool to the touch.

The swift and sudden action rips a soft cry from Sinric, his little cock jumping as he fights to keep his posture. "Sir!"

"So your prostate works just as it should," the doctor says, rubbing it with his finger with purpose. "Good!"

He licks the tip of Sinric's little cock again.

"Sit or lie as it is most comfortable to you," he says, lips moving against it. "Spread your legs as widely as your arousal prompts you to do, too."

In his secret dreams, the doctor had taken him on this couch. Had bend him over it and used his body with the powerful and commanding stillness that seemed to settle around Dr Lecter.

But not it was happening in the waking world, he couldn't decided which he enjoyed more. He widened his knees, coming up onto his thighs with his rear lifted so that the doctor did not have to bend so to use his mouth. He rocked a little against the onslaught for pleasure from that probing finger as the doctor aroused inside him without hesitation.

His heart and breathing quickened, feeling the first signs of that coming climax he had felt so few times. It was still some way off but growing in him like a thunder storm.

"Excellent," Dr. Lecter says, his finger moving steadily inside Sinric's body. "If you want something to happen, or to stop, please tell me so immediately."

He takes the tip of Sinric's prickle between his lips, suckling very carefully.

"Do you... desire my release, sir?" he asks between high, sweet whimpers.

"Yes, of course," Dr. Lecter says without letting go. "I must admit I'm curious to see and taste it."

His finger keeps moving; the slick substance has heated up by now.

Edited 2015-08-02 14:14 (UTC)

"Then please, sir, do not stop. I will..." The words trail off as he works himself back against the doctor's finger.

"You will deliver your specimen to my tongue," the doctor says, a little chuckle in his voice.

His finger moves in perfect rhythm with Sinric's hips, finding the speed that gives him the most pleasure.

Sinric has no words for that. Only a drive pleasure and a desire to obey. He works himself onto the doctor's fingers, moaning each breath as the doctor sucks and licks him.

It takes a little while but sure enough, he trembles and whimpers, delivering the desired spurt with a rough sob.

He grips the back of the couch, overworked thigh muscles shaking and jumping.

Dr. Lecter works him right through his orgasm, and only takes his hand away when Sinric is completely done.

He licks his lips in deep concentration, then sniffs at his finger before wiping it with a wet tissue he pulls from his pocket as well.

His other hand, having now left Sinric's breast, goes to his thigh and strokes the jumping muscles like those of a nervous horse.

"Lie back," he says. "Stretch out, relax, be comfortable and relish the aftershocks."

Sinric nods and obeys, making himself comfortable on the couch as his frantic heart and hurried breathing slows bit by bit.

No matter how often Athelstan and Ragnar give him this pleasure, he has still by no means become accustomed to the feeling. Too intense, too surreal and too overwhelming. It takes him quite some time to come back to himself fully, feeling a gnawing guilt that he has done nothing to offer the doctor pleasure in return, failing in what he sees as his duty.

The doctor is sitting on the floor, on his haunches, almost formally; his maroon eyes are on Sinric, and he is running a finger along the length of Sinric's limbs and body, touching both breasts and genitals again, as if to observe how they return to their resting state.

The little touches makes him shudder softly, his body still highly sensitized. "Sir?" He asks, his voice a little rough. "Is there some pleasure I may offer you?"

"No, it's fine," the doctor says. "I feel privileged for having not only witnessed this, but brought it about. You don't have to do anythings; just relax. If you want something, say so, and you'll have it."

Sinric blushes again, biting his lip to find the words to express his desire. "I would like very much to pleasure you, sir. With my mouth or my body, whichever you would prefer?"

"What do you like about pleasuring a man?" the doctor asks, tilting his head at Sinric.

"There is accomplishment is bringing pleasure, in finding ways to please and heighten the experience beyond the rutting passion most men are accustomed to." He dips his eye lashes. "I have no doubt you are far more experienced than that, sir."

"And there are times I take pleasure in being taken, by someone I trust. It has been harder since-" he cuts himself off. There are many thing that have been harder since the attack.

"Since you were attacked," the doctor nods, "when I helped to clean you up. You might still have some post-traumatic reactions about it, which is only to be expected."

"There are things I... find harder than I did before. I try not to, around my emperor especially."

He smiles softly to the doctor. "I am very grateful, for what you did for me. I only wish there was some way I could thank you for that."

"You already have," the doctor says. "I know more about castrati than any other person alive in my time, and have made music with one of them."

Pause.

"What are the worst of your triggers -- that is, the things that send you back to your attack most easily? Being penetrated from behind, and what else?"

"I have practiced the music you taught me. And that of the recordings you recommended. I cannot be sure my so gs are perfect to the originals for without them to refer back to for two years, I have only what sounds right to my own ears to guide me. I am eager, while the door is still opened to me, to learn as much as I can. If you are willing to teach me?"

The question about his triggers sobers him from his excitement about music.

"There are several things I find I can no longer endure without fear - to have my arms or shoulders held down during pleasure, to have my throat touches or gripped in any way. To be have those I do not trust utterly at my back, even just to stand. Naked blades anywhere near me." He shudders deeply. His fear of knives has faded less than any.

"I might be able to help you face those," the doctor says. "Whichever you find most intimidating and limiting in your daily life."

Pause.

"And of course I would love to make music with you again."

"To have someone behind me." He answers immediately. "Even in court, I find myself backing against walls and placing myself where no-one can stand behind me. It grows less so with drink so at parties I can make myself forget a little but there are other times it becomes very hard not to feel panic rise in me."

"Castor, my Emperor's first guard has noticed. He is a good man and one I trust deeply. He slew the man who cut me." He gestures to his back and the faint scar that now sits in place of the gash the doctor stitched. "If he sees that I am uncomfortable, he places himself behind me. He is broad and tall and not unlike a wall himself." A care Sinric is very grateful for.

"You can't have him there all the time," the doctor says, "and it's an exploitable weakness. I can help you work on the issue, if you like?"

"Sir, I am indebted to you so deeply already but I would very much value your help." He answers with raw and open honesty.

"Then you can have it," the doctor says. "Perhaps not right now, while you're still recovering from your pleasure. Would you like something to eat or drink to help revive you?"

"Thank you. I-" he cuts himself off and lowers his eyes. "Forgive my boldness, sir, but I should very much like to see you, if I may?" He asks softly, half expecting to be told no.

The doctor smiles, and stands.

It becomes evident that providing pleasure to Sinric hasn't failed to impress him physically: from a gap that opens in the middle of his loosely knotted robe as he stands up, the bared and slightly glistening head of his erect penis peeks out.

Rather than pull it close and go about his business, the doctor unties the belt and sheds the robe, standing naked at parade rest to Sinric's scrutiny.

Sinric moves to his knees, taking his time to admire the doctor's toned body, taking him all in. His hardness has by no means escaped Sinric's attention and his eyes are drawn to it by the slopes of Hannibal's pelvis.

"May I touch you, sir?"

The doctor comes a step closer and nods.

Sinric remains in his kneeling position on the couch. He brushes soft fingertips over the doctor's sides, up the crest of his chest, down the centre line of his abs. His touches are light, gentle, exploratory; watching Hannibal's expression before becoming bolder.

Hannibal stands before him, taking another deep breath as he is being touched, but keeping very still.

His erection fills out a little more.

"Tell me if you want me to move," he says.

"Tell me how you would like me to touch?" Sinric answers with a slightly cheeky smile as he leans in to kiss the tip of Hannibal's erection.

"That is a very good approach to take already," Hannibal says, a little breathless chuckle in his breath.

Sinric smiles and touches his tongue to the doctor's slit, teasing it softly and his hands move down to Hannibal's hips.

Looking up at the doctor's through long lashes as he slowly takes the head of Hannibal's cock between his lips.

Hannibal looks down at him, his maroon eyes so very calm even as he gives a sharp gasp at the touch of Sinric's tongue.

Emboldened by the sound, even if he can read so little in those startling eyes, he takes the doctor's cock deeper, his tongue working the underside in tight spirals as he does.

His hands rest lightly on the doctor's hips, for balance more then to guide in or ward off more; leaving things open for the doctor take control at any point he wishes.

"Does this" -- gasp -- "give you pleasure?" the doctor asks, still holding Sinric's gaze.

It is obvious that it does to him.

Sinric hums an affirmative, grinning a little around the doctor's cock as he takes him all the way to the root before easing back. It's clear he takes pleasure in using his skills to draw such sounds from the taciturn doctor.

The doctor puts his hands on Sinric's shoulders and thrusts, once, sliding into Sinric's skillful mouth with a deep groan.

Sinric removes his hands from the doctor's hips, resting them on his own thighs as he opens his throat to Hannibal, handing over control to him. He still teases with his tongue, his lips, humming softly but Hannibal now has control of how deep and how fast he uses Sinric's mouth.

It's slowly, and rather gently, but move he does, thrusting into the warm, moist depth.

"May I ask you a favour?" the doctor asks, between groans, still looking into Sinric's eyes.

Sinric dips his lashes in a very distinct yes without removing his mouth. He wants to know what the doctor wants, what he can do to bring him pleasure.

"Put a finger inside me," the doctor says, "and touch my prostate; it enhances physical pleasure greatly."

There are a few gasps in that sentence, but he retains control rather far.

Edited 2015-08-04 12:43 (UTC)

The lubricant is too far out of Sinric's reach without pulling away so instead he widens his lips and slides one of his own fingers along side the doctor's cock to get it wet and ready.

He reaches between the doctor's thighs, using the doctor's own rhythm to enter him carefully, seeking the seat of pleasure with quick, sure strokes.

There was never a question he won't do as asked.

That gets a loud moan from the doctor, who seems very glad to impale himself like that on the backstroke of his rhythm.

"You are excellent at this!" he praises.

Sinric purrs around him, moving his fingertip over just that right spot on the return of each thrust, causing the doctor to surge forward onto his mouth.

The doctor smiles, pleased and pleasured, as he keeps moving, seeming quite content in Sinric's expert hands.

And mouth.

Sinric varies his touches, changing his rhythms and using his mouth to keep things interesting as Hannibal uses him, seeking the perfect combination of touch and mouth the bring the doctor to the edge.

Hannibal is still looking down at him.

"Will it be all right," he asks, gasping, "if I ejaculate down your throat? Because I might do so soon."

Sinric dips his lashes and purrs around him, taking him deep. He thought it was a given, seeing Sinric offered up his mouth but the fact the doctor's asked first is sweet.

He renews his pace, keen to taste the doctor as Hannibal tasted him.

It doesn't take very much of this; soon, Hannibal spills with a soft groan, sending hot spurts down Sinric's throat while tipping back his head in ecstasy.

Sinric swallows, worked the doctor's prostate right up till the last moment. He withdraws carefully, holding the doctor's hips gently to offer him support and kissing the tip of his cock to catch the last drops of his release.

The doctor sits on the couch, careful not to unsettle Sinric from where he is kneeling.

His cock takes quite some time deflating, still hard and bobbing under Sinric's touch.

Sinric makes room for him, stroking his hip and thigh gently to sooth him down from his release. His lips are red and a little swollen and smiling warmly.

Hannibal takes a while to get his breath back.

"Thank you," he then says. "That felt very, very good."

Sinric is happy to sooth and stroke him, proud to see the taciturn man so blown.

He kisses Hannibal's bared shoulder very lightly. "It was my very great pleasure, sir. I fear you have been denied comfort for too long."

If he gets as far as Hannibal's shoulder, Sinric will probably see the large, circular brand on the doctor's back. It looks several years old, pale and scarred over, but still very visible.

"I am imprisoned, and potentially watched every moment, in a panopticum kind of scenario," he says. "So yes, release of his kind isn't something I'd seek often, always aware of prying eyes."

Sinric notices the scar but says nothing, careful not to touch the scar as he gently massages Hannibal's shoulder. "Then I'm very glad the door found you when it did. And that here you are free to act as you will and take comfort as you deserve."

"I am rather glad that it did, too," Hannibal says. "Here, I can speak to people freely, have a kitchen at my disposal, and some friends to talk to."

He smiles into Sinric's eyes.

"And more than talk, even."

"As you have been of help to me, I hope I can be of comfort to you." Sinric smiles openly and innocently.

The doctor quietly strokes Sinric's cheek.

"You are," he says. "Very much so. I would enjoy it if we could continue our friendship in this vein."

"I would like that too." Sinric leans into the touch, warmed by little signs of affection. "Very much. It is a luxury to choose who I share myself with, and it was an honour to share myself with you."

"Let me get some wine for us," the doctor says, getting up, "and then we can get comfortable on the couch for a little."

Sinric reaches for him, brushing his hand very lightly over Hannibal's arm. "Wine would be lovely and perhaps later I can wash you? A good bath will help ease away the pressure of your confinement."

Hannibal smiles at him, and nods quietly. "It would be very relaxing," he says. "Unobserved baths are a thing of impossibility in my confinement as well."

He reaches out to stroke Sinric's shoulder and breasts, then leans in for a soft, brief kiss before getting up and walking over, calm and naked, to a cupboard that turns out to contain a small cooling unit, some bottles of wine, and some glasses in the open shelf above. With a soft cloth, the doctor dusts the glasses, then he opens the bottle with quick, practiced movements, and pours some wine for each of them before bringing it over to the couch.

It's a dry white, but not quite as light and pale as modern taste prefers it; this wine has depth and character.

Sinric purrs softly at being touches and returns the little kiss gladly. He makes himself more comfortable on the couch, with easily room enough for the two of them. After all, he doesn't take up that much room.

"To the warmth of friendship." He toasts and accepts the wine with a nod of thanks. He stops to breath it in, eyes closed in appreciation. "Hmm, where is this wine from? I don't recognise it." He ask curiously, sipping it delicately.

"The Moselle river in what was, in your time, the Frankish realm," Hannibal says, settling on the couch in a quite relaxed manner as well, opening his body language to touch and comfort. "The Romans had grown wine there for centuries already when the West of their empire collapsed. Very steep slopes on which the vines cling precariously to the shale and soak up sun."

"Ah, the Franks." Sinric mutters ruefully, resting a naked ankle against Hannibal's calf, rubbing gently. "I was dancing for the Frankish ambassador when the door opened to me again. Bore of a man but he brought with him the best of wines and even better musicians."

"Then among the white he brought must have been the ancestors of this very wine," Hannibal says, moving his leg into the touch. "Boring people can make quite good wines, just as the most stupid farmers are reputed to grow the largest potatoes."

He smiles.

"The latter may be a somewhat lewd allusion as well, of course."

"As I'm not sure what a potato is, I shall have to take your word for it." Sin giggles. "Next time I go, I will makes sure to bring some wine back with me when I come and you can taste for yourself."

"But I'm not sure if all the Franks are such dull people or if the ambassador is a special case. His musicians are lively and wonderful people. As quick to share as they are to learn." He lights up at the mention of music.

"Do you know their language, or do they speak Greek?" the doctor asks, nodding. "And yes, I love to taste wine from so long ago, to learn about the different stages of oenological evolution."

"I'm learning it bit by bit but we speak the common tongue of church Latin. Most of the songs of the Frankish court are monastic so most Frankish singers and musicians speak it well."

"Perhaps another night, the bar will indulge us with wines of many places and times."

Hannibal runs a finger over Sinric's arm, his body language open and inviting.

"We could pick a few places, set some years for all of them, and then taste them in historical order," he says. "It would be an interesting experience. Perhaps we could invite Ganymede as well; he is quite the expert and even grows his own wine, in my time."

Sinric makes the most of the invitation and slides a little closer, his slender body pressed gently against the doctor's side. Not quite a cuddle but certainly open to one.

"I should like that very much." Lighting up at mention of Ganymede. " You say he grows his own grapes? How wonderful."

The doctor pulls him close, making them both comfortable. "And he makes excellent wine, at that," he says. "His vineyard is in California -- that is a wine growing region in the new world, a part of the world not discovered in your time."

Sinric's rather little body tucks nicely against Hannibal's side, warm and trusting. "It seems impossible to me that there is so much unknown and undiscovered in my time. We are taught that the Romans ruled the world, whole and complete and yet there is so much unseen even by the Caesars."

"But the Romans did know about China, trading silk through the silk road and Zeugma," Hannibal says.

"As do we. My Emperor has good and strong relations with the people of the Sino empire for the trade of silk and spices." He is silent for a moment. "I intend to go there and see it for myself when the day comes for my Emperor to earn his eternal rest in the kingdom of heaven. The Sino ambassador's son is a very dear friend to me and has offered me shelter and safe conduct, in so much as such sureties can bind on a journey of that kind."

"You are going to see Tang dynasty China!" the doctor says, running his finger down Sinric's arm.

Edited 2015-08-05 23:20 (UTC)

"Is that what history remembers that empire as? It sounds very grand. I do look forward to it, even if the begining of my journey with be marked by the end of all I have known. Yan speaks with much passion of his home, I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"It is," the doctor says. "I only know the artefacts and buildings they left behind. It's a splendid period considered classical by later times. But yes, leaving everything you ever had behind you and go into the unknown with nothing but the clothes on one's back is scary."

Edited 2015-08-05 23:34 (UTC)

"Then perhaps if the will of the door permits it, I can come for you then and we may see it together?" He offers, knowing the doctor would be as excited by the idea as Ragnar and Athelstan.

"I had hoped to begin to board jewels and things here, to allow myself so cache of comforts and supplies but the door has not been helpful."

"You can still do it now," the doctor says, sipping his wine.

"I suppose I can but for now I'm happy being reunited with old friends and enjoying their company." He's half afraid the door will vanish again if he leaves. "And there's still much I wish to learn from the library."

Edited 2015-08-06 00:10 (UTC)

"The library here is amazing!" Hannibal says, enthusiasm flaring up as it rarely has done before. "It's magical, though -- it connects to all other libraries in the multiverse. I've entered it before from libraries that I'd gone to through the labyrinth, twice, in fact. From the library of a large magical owl, and from the basement of a Paris bookshop."

"Truly? I did not know that. How wonderful! I did not know there was a labyrinth here? Please will you tell me of your adventures?"

"The labyrinth is bizarre," Dr. Lecter says. "It's accessed from a door in the side of the mountain, and in there, you can cross from one world to another by a series of interconnected doors. All these worlds exist somewhere, even the one with the giant metal bees, and the one where gravity worked sideways for us, so Noriko Ashhida and I had to climb desperately through an otherwise perfectly ordinary if rather grand living room. And when I visited the labyrinth with Bossuet Lesgle, we ended up in modern Paris, in the exact same spot where the café stood from which they ran their failed revolution. So, there is a certain sentience at work in the labyrinth, just as it is in whom the door brings, and when."

"So it brought you to those places because of the people you were with? Was it for you, it brought you to the libraries?"

"No, that was for my companions," Hannibal says. "But from those very libraries, it brought us back to the library here. I never tried to set out from this library and go elsewhere, though."

"The magic of this place never ceases to amaze me." Sinric smiles, sipping his wine decorously. "Perhaps as I explore the library, I will find a way that connects to the great library of Alexandria and there I shall truly be lost."

"You might be," Dr. Lecter says. "It is reputed to have contained half a million scrolls; even the one in Pergamon had 200,000 scrolls. Even considering that any one work had up to 12 scrolls, it's an amazing number."

Pause.

"By your times, papyrus scrolls have of course fallen out of use and have been replaced by parchment codices."

"The sacred palace library might be the largest in all Europe but even it isn't that large. Most of our books are parchment or vellum. Yan has shown me fine scrolls of silk, large solid ones of bone and bamboo and maps made of paper more like that found so commonly here."

"I had hoped the bar would permit me a book of such fine, clean paper that I might write. If the cost is not to great."

"For you to write about your travels, once you go?" Hannibal says.

"I had not thought of that but it is a very good idea. No, I was reading the histories of my Emperor's reign and find many of the records harsh - remembering only his hard line on iconography and his war-like natural. My friend Athelstan suggested I might write my own history that he might be remembered as I have known him - as a kind and wise man."

"You can always do both," the doctor says. "Both things are worth being handed down and remembered. Marco Polo might even be going to have read your account! It's generally known he wasn't the first to go all the way, return, and tell about it."

"Marco Polo?" He asks curiously, sipping his wine. He's enjoying this quiet intimacy, his free hand resting casually on Hannibal's thigh.

"A man from Venice who made the journey to China in the late 13th century," Hannibal says, "returned after many years, and wrote a book about it. He wasn't believed at first because his description of the sheer size and numbers seemed so exaggerated. While not by far the first European to travel to China and write about it, he's the most famous, a household name even in my time."

"I have no desire to be famed but it would be good to write my travels and observations." He muses, biting his lip. "Perhaps I will ask the bar for a second book, if they are not too costly."

"They are not," the doctor says. "I have a number of blanks here, as I use them to take notes about my patients. I can give you one."

He shakes his head. "Thank you, sir but I'll pay for my own. I will be alone soon and must learn to make my own way in the world." He leans up to press a very soft kiss to Hannibal's bared shoulder. "But the offer is very much appreciated."

Hannibal smiles down at him, and kisses his cheek. "They are not expensive at all, even if you take a good, solid one. You want it to be able to withstand long, arduous travel."

"I think I should have to leave it here, and write in it when I come. Such fine paper would be strange and hard to explain should I be found with it."

"That may be even wiser," the doctor says, stroking his cheek.

Pause.

"Thank you for this. I would like to do it again another time, in some way or another. Combine music, food, therapy, talk with the pleasures of the flesh. I promise that I will always give as good as I get, and I do keep my promises."

Sinric turns his head to kiss Hannibal's finger. "Sir, I would like that very much. And I have no doubt of your word. You are a learned and honourable man and a kind friend. I would be very glad to spend more time in you company."

"Well," Hannibal says, "then we shall!"

[[OOC: Wrap here? Shall I post this?]]

{ooc: perfect and yes, please? It would be the start of a wonderful friendship if Hannibal wasn't Hannibal.}

[[OOC: It still is -- for a given value of 'friendship', because Hannibal IS Hannibal!]]

OOM: Curious about Sin

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