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]

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.

[cook_the_rude]

"You are comfortable on the lovely table?" Hannibal murmurs against Sinric's thigh.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric goes to speak but stops, having to clear throat to get his voice working again with an effort. "I could ask you the same of the floor but like me, I suspect you lack the energy to rise."

[cook_the_rude]

"No," Hannibal says. "Nothing rising."

He gently kisses the tired, soft and slickened little snail.

[thewidewideworld]

The soft chuckle turns into a moan and an almost painful shudder of unexpected pleasure at the kiss.

[cook_the_rude]

"I like your sex," Hannibal murmurs, tilting his head just a little to kiss Sinric's soft pubic area, where ordinary men or women have hair, "I feel I could snuggle here forever."

[thewidewideworld]

That draws something between a sigh and a chuckles. "I don't think it has ever been admired quite so worshippingly before."

[cook_the_rude]

"My knees not quite working helps with the worshipping," Hannibal murmurs. "But yes, it is unique and sweet."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles softly and tries, failingly to get to his elbows and sit up. "Perhaps in your time. You would be spoilt for choice in the golden cage."

[cook_the_rude]

"I still like you best," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"How would you know?" He sighs, trying again to pull himself up. "You might well fall in love with dark eyed Christophorus and his beautiful curls. Or Kir's perfect olive skin. Or Probus with his voice as sweet as mine."

[cook_the_rude]

"I like your spirit," Hannibal says. "Your resilience. Your bravery in the face of the unknown. Your loyalty, and your pride in exactly who and what you are. Nope, I like you best."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sits up and last and leans down to kiss Hannibal deeply, tasting both their pleasure on his lips. "Thank you."