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.

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[thewidewideworld]

Sinric arches up to his elbows to make his bare shoulders and upper chest easier to reach. He wishes there was some easy way to get the bodice loose but the zipper thing is somewhere he can't reach.

Part of him wonders if Hannibal would rip him out of the dress if he truly was the barbarian he is dressed as. But he knows the kind and thoughtful gentleman never would.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches around Sinric's back, to unzip the top of the dress, and then unhook the top of the corsetry to free Sinric's little breasts and put his lips to the hard pink nipples.

[thewidewideworld]

The gentleman can multitask! Sinric would be very, very grateful. If he wasn't utterly too lost in moaning Hannibal's name.

He wriggles, clenching tight around Hannibal as the good doctor's lips send ripples of pleasure through his body.

[cook_the_rude]

"Now we're talking," the gentleman chuckles, lips moving against Sinric's breasts. He keeps thrusting, alternating deep and shallow thrusts, one to fill Sinric up, one to hit his sweet spot, steady and strong.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric clings to him, feeling that chuckle vibrate over his hard and sensitive nipples. The rhythm of Hannibal's thrusts keeps him off-kilter, almost unable to catch his breath. It leaves him wonderfully light headed, his body singing with joy.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal starts moaning softly against Sinric's nipples, his pleasure apparently getting the better of him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric falls into his back, arches up so he can free a hand to cup the back of Hannibal's head, burying Hannibal's face in his small breasts. "Please! Don't hold back. I need your pleasure!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's thrusts speed up, and his gasps get more ragged.

His hands are still firm and strong on Sinric's hips.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric cries sweetly, his body thruming. He's still some little way from release himself but that doesn't matter. He wants Hannibal's need, his drive, his hard thrusts and his ragged breath.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal groans louder as pleasure starts getting the better of him, control actually slipping, rather than just in role-play.

[thewidewideworld]

Either way, Sinric is enjoying every moment. His breasts heave with his ragged gasps, clinging to Hannibal as he ride the line of pleasure.

[cook_the_rude]

"Not long," Hannibal warns him, but he keeps going, fiercer and faster with every thrust.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's only answer is to cry out, his voice breathlessly rough and unmistakably joyous. His own release inches closer but the wave won't break in time. But that is far, far from his mind right now, almost a distraction.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal pounds into Sinric now, wild and strong and fast, groaning. His face still on Sinric's breasts, his lips scrabbling for purchase and his beard scratching sensitive skin, he tries to give as much pleasure as possible before the fall.

[thewidewideworld]

Undoubtedly the fair skin of Sinric's chest will be reddened but he doesn't care. None of that matters as much as feeling Hannibal fall apart, to feel him give into his desire.

[cook_the_rude]

"Sinric!" Hannibal gases. "I am going to..."

He is slamming into Sinric now, utterly wild.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric clenches tightening around him in a desperate attempt to tip Hannibal over the edge.

[cook_the_rude]

And over the edge he goes, splamming into Sinric again as he spills, and spills, and spills, groaning, shouting and pa ring against Sinric's breasts as his orgasm lasts and lasts.

And even after, he keeps thrusting so Sinric will have pleasure to the very last moment, until his manhood fully flags.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gasps, feeling the power of it wash over him. Hannibal keeps spilling for so long he can feel it fill him, overflowing with those last thrusts.

He puts a gentle hand out to still Hannibal, letting him know it's okay to stop and pulling him close to rest.

[cook_the_rude]

The moment Hannibal slips free, though, he lets go and drops to his knees in front of the table, and puts his mouth the Sinriric's hole, sucking up his own copious seed and starting to spread it with lips and tongue, all over that sweet little prick.

[thewidewideworld]

The suddenness and strangeness of the feeling flips Sinric's stomach, sending a shock through him that triggers his release almost as soon as Hannibal's mouth is in him.

His cry of surprise is almost brittle and alarmed, the air leaving him in a jolt.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gives two or three more languid licks, then slumps forwards, resting his face against Sinric's crotch.

"The taste and scent of your sweet release threading through my intense maleness," he sighs, "is uniquely beautiful."

[thewidewideworld]

The orgasm rip through Sinric so hard and sudden it leaves him shattered and weak, panting roughly. He lifts a hand so, so slowly to rest on Hannibal's head.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal just breathes very slowly and deeply, his face still on Sinric's crotch, as if all energy was finally spent now his partner had peaked as well.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric in content to lay there, chest heaving as he tries to level his breathing. He keep his hand resting in Hannibal's hair.

There is no reason to move, not until they're ready.