OOM: For Sinric

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's office is brightly lit today, the windows open to let in grey wintery light which washes palely over the furniture and art.

The pictures are Tang dynasty landscape paintings today, interspersed with court scenes of officials wearing complex hats.

Hannibal politely gestures at the couch, then goes to fetch the wine glasses.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal pushes forward into the touch, moaning under the water.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nuzzles his neck, keeping his grip light and teasing. "I would have you inside me?" He whispers, breathless at the thought. "I have missed how it feels to be filled by you."

There's a stronger edge to his voice now, a confidence returning.

[cook_the_rude]

"I should sit on something," Hannibal gasps, "and you could sit on me."

[thewidewideworld]

"I like the sound of that." Sinric sighs, letting go with a little squeeze and stepping back to rinse the conditioner from Hannibal's hair.

However hot he feels at the prospect of riding Hannibal, making sure he finished his task of washing Hannibal's hair is more important. "Your couch perhaps?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Couch sounds good," Hannibal says, closing his eEs once more.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric gives him one last rinse and turns off the taps, running his hands through Hannibal's hair to squeeze out the water, a habit of having much longer hair.

Nimble on light feet, he offers Hannibal a towel before seeing to the weight of his own long mane.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal takes the towel and starts drying himself off briskly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric starts to dry himself too, stealing a kiss. "Will you go to the couch and wait for me, please? I have something I'd like to do for you that will require a moments preparation."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal hangs up his towel, nods, and walks over into the office, sitting on the couch again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric comes out from the bathroom, dressed in the green silk once more. He moves to the stereo and selects a more classicaly Turkish piece he recognises. He closes his eyes and lets it soak into him before beginning to dance.

Somewhere between freeform ballet and something more primitive, he moves gracefully. The full skirt twirls with him, the split revealing flashes of pale thigh.

He moves towards Hannibal, dark eyes flashing and warm, dancing for Hannibal alone.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal follows his every move with his eyes, quite visibly liking what he sees.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric dance moves closer, fingertips brushing Hannibal's jaw and chest, resting one knee on the couch as he moves.

He steps back again to twist and twirl, letting loose the laces of his bodice, revealing his breasts little by little.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal cranes his neck to kiss them.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and moves back, letting the dress fall to his waist as before. He raises his hand and dances in a style that one day might be called belly dancing, only that Sinric lacks the curves for it.

He flexes and bends, his skirts brushing Hannibal's legs and he bends back far enough for hair to touch the rug behind him.

This is usually the point at which men grab him but he knows Hannibal is a different breed to his master's drunken guests.

[cook_the_rude]

Indeed, Hannibal just watches him with those calm, maroon eyes of his.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves to straddle Hannibal, skirts pooling around them as he spreads himself over Hannibal's knees, still moving.

His smooth skin runs against Hannibal's manhood as he lifts and lowers himself, teasing with taut muscles. His hole, when he does allow Hannibal's prick to brush it, is slick and ready and wet as any woman.

In fact, with the skirts covering him from the waist down, there is nothing to call him out as male at all.

Arms raises and wrists held in a classic belly dancers click, he lowers himself on to Hannibal, taking just the head of him.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans, leaning forwards to bring his sharp teeth to Sinric's breasts, and nip one nipple oh-so-softly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric cries out in a mix of suprised pain/pleasure and shock, his control slipping so he falls a little, taking Hannibal deep into him.

He gasps, moving his hands behind him, wrists crossed as he starts to move again, trying to regain his centre.

[cook_the_rude]

As if to compensate, Hannibal suckles the startled nipple with soft, generous lips.

[thewidewideworld]

"Don't." Sinric moans breathlessly. "Don't hold back. Take me as you desire me. Use me as you want me. Show me your passion, Hannibal please?" He arches his back, wrists crossed to support him as he moves sinuously in Hannibal's lap, tight inner muscles flexing with each giration.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal puts his hands on Sinric's hips and starts slamming up into him, strong and greedy and demanding

[thewidewideworld]

The first thrust hits Sinric perfectly in the seat of pleasure, driving the air from him. His eyes shot open, wide as his breathless gasp.

All control and balance lost he drops his arms, clinging to Hannibal's shoulders for support as he does his best to ride out the waves of sensation now assaulting him.

He can't imagine being able to reach peak again so soon but as Hannibal ploughs him deep, he isn't sure he will have a choice.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal keeps thrusting, strong and fierce and without any hesitation, hitting Sinric again and again where it feels best

[thewidewideworld]

The aim of the dance had been to remind himself he was beautiful, that he could still drive a man to wild desire. To remind himself he had that power.

And now he was powerless, shaking and gasping as Hannibal's thrusts trigger wave after wave of pleasure. Short and sharp and utterly mind-blowing, he is at Hannibal's mercy.

[cook_the_rude]

But Hannibal seems just as powerless, thrusting and moaning in the throes of desire and passion.