OOM: Farewell to Sinric

[cook_the_rude]

 Hannibal leads the way upstairs and to his private room -- which is as it was. Mostly.

"Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" is gone from the walls; instead, there are archaeological drawing of Scythian tattoos, with the merest hint at the bodies they used to be applied to, the stark black art dominating the pencilled outline of a neck, a shoulder, a thigh, a pair of buttocks.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

He ducks his lashes in a small nod. "Ragnar, Athelstan and I. We marked each other. It was... a powerful experience."

[cook_the_rude]

"May I see?"

[thewidewideworld]

"I would have to undress." Sinric points out with a playful smile, hands already in the ties of his tunic.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes, please!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric takes his time, not overtly showing off but enjoying the way the doctor looks at him as he removes one layer at a time.

Last of all are the fine linen pants. Naked beneath them, the fine dark lines of the tattoo on his hip, just above his thigh stand out crisply.

Two stylized birds - the raven and the dove, in flight and flowing over his skin.

[cook_the_rude]

"They are very lovely," Hannibal says, reaching out to touch them.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric steps closer, offering himself up to be touched. "It was painful but I'm glad I did it. It feels...right, to have choosen to change myself. To remake myself."

{ooc: sorry, DW seems to have swallowed my last attempt at tagging!}

[cook_the_rude]

"To have something of theirs on you to carry it out into your world," Hannibal says, touching it, "indelibly drawn into your very skin."

[thewidewideworld]

"Something real, something tangible. So if I'm away too long I have proof this place is real." He lowers his eyes. "I'm afraid it'll become as insubstantial to me as a dream."

[cook_the_rude]

"And more so, the longer you're gone," Hannibal says. "Getting the tattoo was a good decision."

[thewidewideworld]

"I'm glad you approve. The timing is perhaps unwise but it felt right to do."

He inches a little closer to Hannibal, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to his throat.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans back his head, gives a pleased sigh.

"You have learned to acknowledge your own needs," he murmurs. "I like that."

[thewidewideworld]

"My needs have... not always been convenient of late." He hums, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's waist, kissing up to the soft skin behind his ear. "I'm not use to being allowed to want."

[cook_the_rude]

"But you are, and you're learning to own your needs" Hannibal says, tilting his head as if to offer himself to Sinric's lips. "I'm all yours for the wanting."

[thewidewideworld]

"I do want you." Sinric sighs, nibbling on the end of Hannibal's earlobe, standing on his tiptoes. "Very much."

He glances over his shoulder towards the bed. "May we-?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Of course," Hannibal says, reaching out to loosen Sinric's clothes.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric strips gladly, pulling at Hannibal's closes in return, wanting skin and touch.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal quickly divests himself of his jacket and tie, and helps Sinric to open his shirt, offering the skin he was wanting.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric kisses Hannibal's chest urgently, pushing his shirt away and fumbling with the openings of his pants. "Please?" He gently pushes Hannibal towards the bed.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal allows himself to be pushed, eagerly shadowing Sinric's movements. "Yes," he says, smiling with half-lidded eyes, "show me what you want -- take what you want, I'm all yours!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric guides Hannibal to lay down, stripping the last of his clothes.

He isn't sure if this is wise or helpful but the doctor's easy giving and encouragement is fueling the fire within him to light again. Rather than learning to control his desire, Hannibal is letting him out of control.

He straddles Hannibal, kissing him wildly. He rubs against him, his own small manhood hot against the base of Hannibal's

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans, returning those kisses as fervently, his own prick already hardening and eagerly responding to Sinric's desire.

[thewidewideworld]

"Do you have- oh! Any oil? Please? I want you in me!" He pants between rough and passionate kisses.

[cook_the_rude]

Not breaking the kiss, Hannibal hands him a plastic bottle that promises lubricant on its label.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric glances at it between kisses and pours a little in his hand. Without pause, he strokes Hannibal's manhood, making him slick with deft, practiced stokes.

He lifts himself, lowering himself into Hannibal without a moment's hesitant. He's tight and hot, forcing himself down in a single thrust.