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]

"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.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gives a loud moan, of both surprise and utter abandon at being taken inside like that.

[thewidewideworld]

He tucks his feet under Hannibal's knees, leaning forward with his hand on Hannibal's chest to ride him slowly but deeply. Each thrust drives him into Hannibal, filling himself to the hilt.

[cook_the_rude]

"Have me," Hannibal gasps, "the way you want me -- know what you want! Take it!"

[thewidewideworld]

He growls and kisses Hannibal deeply. Kisses him wild and wonton. "This! I want this!" He nips and kisses his way down Hannibal's neck and over his chest. He does the same to Hannibal's nipples, seeking his moans.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal gasps and moans; his hips thrust up, answering Sinric's rhythm. "You have it! As much - as you want!"

[thewidewideworld]

He nips a little too hard on one of Hannibal's nipples in his excitement, kissing small red mark in apology before rocking back to ride Hannibal.

His hair flutters back in a golden waterfall over his skin as he reaches between them to touch himself, almost hesitantly.

[cook_the_rude]

"You want," Hannibal gasps, "you need, and you know!"

His hand follows Sinric's even as he is ridden, touching the unfurling little snail.

[thewidewideworld]

"No." Sinric orders breathlessly, catching Hannibal's hands and pushing them to his breasts. "I want- you here." He curls Hannibal's fingers around his nipples, encouraging him to squeeze as he returns to stroke himself. "I'm so near."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's hands get to work on Sinric's breasts, pushing in time with their thrusts, thumbs rubbing over sweet pink nipples.

"Slow down, or speed up?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Faster." He answers without hesitation. "Then put me on my knees and take your pleasure." It's want he wants, needs.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal speeds up the motions of his hips, in time with Sinric's own movements, and that of his own hands on those lovely breasts.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric drives himself down onto Hannibal's thrusts, stroking himself between thumb and forefinger.

It doesn't take long before he cries out and tightens around Hannibal, spilling his meagre load into Hannibal's stomach.