OOM: Treating Sinric's ankle

[cook_the_rude]

 Hannibal's office is dimmer today, the windows largely covered by dark grey blackout blinds to keep out the summer sun, while two lamps, one by the couch, the other stooped over the drawing table, provide islands in the soft gloom.

The prints on the wall, still mostly Istanbul, and harem scenes, have now been joined by a series from the 18th century depicting Farinelli in different operatic costumes that all have ridiculously huge and long plumes on the helmet or hats in common.

Hannibal puts down the exhausted Sinric on the couch and then fetches his medical bag from the closed bottom part of the book case.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I trust this gave you what you needed," Hannibal says, lying back on the couch and finally taking off his trousers all the way.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves with him, lifting himself up but not all the way off to make it easier for the doctor to make himself comfortable.

He nods and smiles shyly. "You did, sir. And I thank you greatly for it. I hope you will forgive my fault in not pleasuring you well." Enjoying himself with properly seeing to his partner's needs is to fail in his duty.

[cook_the_rude]

"This was amazing, and satisfied me very deeply," Hannibal says. "The next time, I'm going to make you orgasm again; but this time, I took your lead."

[thewidewideworld]

"Thank you." He answers honestly and openly. "I am sure I would have, even with your most ardent efforts. My heart weights too heavily." The cold of grief is creaking back on him now.

"Sir, would you permit me another kindness? Would it be acceptable to you if I was to stay with you tonight? I... do not wish to be alone this night." He asks it cautiously, half expecting to be denied.

[cook_the_rude]

"Of course you can stay," Hannibal says. "But it would be more comfortable of we went upstairs, to my room."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and gives him a grateful hug before lifting himself off Hannibal with care.

He reaches for his discarded stola and slips it back on, careful on his swollen ankle.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal goes and finds a robe in the little bathroom. Apparently, he doesn't feel much like putting his clothes back on.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric has goes quiet and introspective in the aftermath of their lovemaking, his eyes distance as he waits for Hannibal. The bruise on his cheek makes him look small and fragile, half hidden by his hair.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches out for Sinric, running a finger down his cheek.

"It was a very stressful day for you," he says. "Lean on me, and let's go."

[thewidewideworld]

The touch seems to bring him to himself and he nods, leaning into Hannibal's support as they go.

Even with the local which is starting to wear off now, the going is slow and painful. Sinric doesn't cry out but he lean heavily on Hannibal, tears forming in his eyes

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal takes him upstairs, slowly and gently, wiping the tears from his eyes with a soft fingertip as they go.

The room is quite simple, for Hannibal's 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.

[thewidewideworld]

He tries not to complain of the pain. After all, Athelstan's suffering must be so much greater. His poor bleeding feet. The memory makes him gasp, which Hannibal may hear as his own pain.

He takes the room in, surprised by the simplicity of it and looks to the bathroom beyond. "May I refresh myself?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Of course," Hannibal says. "Let me just put something over your bandage so if doesn't get wet."

[thewidewideworld]

"Thank you." He goes silent again, blinking to come back to himself. "Forgive me, sir. I fear I'm not myself tonight."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gets some clear plastic foil from one of the kitchen towers, and gestures for Sinric to sit down.

"I' going to get the bed ready while you're in the bath," he says conversationally while wrapping the bandaged foot in that rather sticky, thin layer. "I don't like rooms dominated by beds, unless they're bedrooms, so my bed folds out. It's hidden in the base of that book-case over there. All those books make a nice bed head."

[thewidewideworld]

"You do not like to see your bed?" Sinric asks confused, sitting and letting Hannibal cover his ankle. "I have always seen a bed as warm and inviting - either to sleep or to play. And my lord's bed is the finest ever build." More architecture than furniture.

[cook_the_rude]

"Not while I'm reading or working," Hannibal says. "I lived in this room for over a year while the bar refused to let me go."

[thewidewideworld]

"You were trapped here? I did not know that could happen. I have known myself that the door is fickle but I thought that only from without, not from within."

[cook_the_rude]

"From within as well," Hannibal says. "They call it being Bound; that doesn't just happen to dead people."

He finishes wrapping the ankle.

"There -- safe for a bath or shower. I'll reapply some heparin gel to the other bruises before we sleep."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric rises and kisses Hannibal's cheek very tenderly. "I know not what I have done to deserve the care you show me but I will strive to be worth of it."

He makes his way to the shower, making sure he is clean all over before entering the doctor's bed.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor has pulled out the bed, which is large and generous and looks nothing like an improvised folding bed, and is sitting up in it already, reading a small book.

On the glass table beside the bed, two glasses of water and the heparin gel are ready.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric returns after only a short time, enough to cleanse himself and wash out his hair. He returns naked, having set the torn stola aside to repair later, his long hair twisted up in a swift braid.

[cook_the_rude]

"Come here," Hannibal says, putting the book aside and reaching for the gel. "Let's make this quick, and then we can sleep, and you can recover from the blow you had, both physical and emotional. Sleep is good for that."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and goes where the doctor directs him, careful of his ankle thought the hot water has taken some of the ache from it.

His eyes are already heavy and he moves with an exhausted sluggishness. He touches the doctor's shoulder lightly as gel is spread on his bruises, carelessness muttering his thanks in Greek.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor puts the gel aside and opens his arm to Sinric.

"Lie on your side beside the covers," he says, "so the gel gets to dry; I'll cover you up if you fall asleep."