OOM: For Sinric on Halloween

[cook_the_rude]

It seems like an invasion, the dirty, scruffy barbarian striding into the clean, civilised room. Kitchen and bed, desk and dining table, book cases and sofa are all still there. The prints on the walls today are vintage 1950s fashion plates and pin-ups, giving the place a touch of playfulness.

The large polished table with six chairs awaits the pleasure of the diners.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

The prints make Sinric smile, copying one of the sweeter poses as he glances over his shoulder to Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

"I never thought that was completely feasible a pose to hold," Hannibal says, smiling. "But you're doing it very well."

He closes the door behind himself.

[thewidewideworld]

"I suspect the tightness of the garments beneath help somewhat." He lingers towards the table, running his fingers ove the polished surface thoughtfully.

[cook_the_rude]

"I will hold you by the hips so you won't slide off when I thrust inside you," Hannibal says, smiling.

[thewidewideworld]

He shivers in anticipation, biting his lip as he turns back to look up at Hannibal's scruffy chest.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal comes a step closer, close enough for Sinric to touch his chest.

[thewidewideworld]

"As much as I know you loath feeling so barbarous, I confess I admire this." He pulls off his lace gloves with care before tracing the curves of the tattoos.

[cook_the_rude]

"I don't loathe your admiration at all," Hannibal says, taking a deep breath.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans in, pressing a soft kiss on the crest of one whirl of the ink, leaving a small red mark of lipstick just below one nipple.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal stretches under the attention, giving a little sigh of pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

He lifts his head to kiss a little higher, his bright red lips brushing Hannibal's nipple.

He reaches for Hannibal's hand, moving them to his narrow waist. He cups Hannibal's cheek and draws him into a rich, passionate kiss.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans forward, grasping Sinric's hips and pouring wildness into the passionate kiss.

[thewidewideworld]

The wildness to makes him melt and moan. There is something about the barbaric masculinity that makes him feel wonderfully small.

[cook_the_rude]

Still kissing him fiercely, Hannibal backs him towards the diner g table.

[thewidewideworld]

He gasps into the kiss as his back bumps against the wood of the table, his hands going back to the surface as if to catch himself. "Yes." He gasps between kisses, wanting Hannibal to be sure this is what he wants.

[cook_the_rude]

"Up you go," Hannibal says, grasping Sinric's hips to bodily sit him on the table; then, after another fierce kiss, he pushes up the skirts.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gasps as Hannibal lifts him effortlessly.

True to the rest of the outfit, He's wearing a longline, shaping girdle and silk stocking. But beneath them, he wears nothing but his own desire.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches out towards a nearby shelf; olive oil is never far away at his dining table. A well-calculated dollop that won't stain the petticoat goes on Sinric's little snail; it's rubbed all over it, and then downwards into his hole.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans back on his hands, arching up into the touch. It's strange how much the skirts and the strange bareness of his shoulders and upper back, he feels even more vulnerable than normal.

He spreads his legs, resting the heeled feet dangling.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal rubs his oily finger deeper, slipping one into Sinric to open him up.

He dips his head and kisses the bared upper part of Sinric's cleavage, leaving second-hand lipstick stains.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gasps, clenching around Hannibal's finger and revealing in not having to be quiet this time. Beneath the tight bra, his nipples harden, his exposed skin rife with goosebumps. "Oh yes!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal keeps greedily kissing the cleavage, all the exposed goose-bumped flesh, while he adds a second finger, and crooks them, aiming right for the hidden sweet spot inside Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

He lifts his petite rear off the table as he arches up, feeling himself harden and clench as Hannibal stroke that secret place. His voice comes in short, high gasps; sweetly breathless.

[cook_the_rude]

After a few more strokes, Hannibal lets go in order to open his own rough leather breeches. His manhood juts out when released, hard and red-tipped, leaking at the slit.

"Ready for it?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Always!" Sinric pants, wrapping his legs around Hannibal's waist and sprawling back onto his elbows. "Always want you, always ready and willing!"