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

[thewidewideworld]

Just as Sinric draws back, timed perfectly so Hannibal's release splashes his lips and cheek, his tongue extended as one might accept the Eucharist.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal spends a moment or two just breathing -- gasping first, then breathing more quietly."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric remains on his knees, watching Hannibal regather himself. Now who's got to cream.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal bends over to kiss him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric croons into the kiss, his lips still sticky and his eyes warm.

[cook_the_rude]

"So good," Hannibal whispers.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and moves up to sit in the edge of the couch, stroking Hannibal's cheek. "I'm glad I can still bring you pleasure."

He looks down at himself and laughs. "Even if I'm made rather a mess. Will you excuse me, I just go clean up."

[cook_the_rude]

"I probably should, too," Hannibal says, trying to get up.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles and puts a hand on his shoulder to still him. "I take it as a compliment that your knees are still shaky."

[cook_the_rude]

"That is something you unfailingly do, every time we do something like this," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"You flatter me." Sometimes Sinric could most definitely use right now. He runs his hands through Hannibal's mussed hair, stroking it back to neatness.

[cook_the_rude]

"I don't," Hannibal says, smiling into Sinric's eyes as he again tries to get up, and succeeds.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles, maybe blushing, just a little as he heads towards Hannibal's bathroom.

He hesitants a moment, hands on the shoulders of his half open dress. Seeming to find his resolve, he drops it carefully, conscious of the scars he's revealing as he steps out of it.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal steps up behind him, and touches the scarred skin.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's breath catches but he makes no more to avoid the touch. The wounds have been healed some years now but the sharp lines of the whip still stand high and clean across his buttocks and lower back.

[cook_the_rude]

"I'll find you something to at least soften those," Hannibal says, running his hands all the way down Sinric's back.

[thewidewideworld]

He turns his head, letting his hair fall away to welcome the touch. "I would appreciate that very much. I find them an ugly reminder."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans to kiss his shoulder.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs, turning his head to expose his neck.

He has becomes less troubled about his back but it's Hannibal who he has trusted with the deepest scars of his soul.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's finger follows the traces of Sinric's scars, criss-crossing back and forth.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shivers, reaching back to rest a hand on Hannibal's hip. He makes an effort to ground himself here and now rather than letting himself go back to the time these scars were caused.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's finger keeps wandering over Sinric's back.

"Let's clean up, and then I will rub some salve into these."

[thewidewideworld]

He squeezes softly and nods. "Thank you." He steps away to head to the sink, reaching for a cloth.

There something small and trusting about the way he moves. Like a tame little deer unware of the danger around him

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal strips off all his remaining clothes, then turns on the small shower in the corner. It's one of those small Scandinavian ones, just two movable round glass walls to enclose a spot of bathroom floor, and a hand-held shower head.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric wipes himself down with a cloth first - the communal bath habit of getting clean before getting in. He watches Hannibal as he dabs himself clean, enjoying both the economy of design in the shower and the self contained grace of Hannibal's movements