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 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.

[thewidewideworld]

Then they are equally lost in this. Sinric starts to whimper, feeling too much and yet able to get enough. He can feel the coil inside him growing tight, even as his body tightens around Hannibal.

It cannot be long now, because how can he bear it? And yet, to go over will be greater still.

He buries his face in Hannibal's neck, tears of overwhelming pleasure wetting his face just as sweat glistens over his skin.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is gasping Sinric's name, unable to keep from speeding up, utterly lostt in this fast, strong pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Building like a storm, he feels himself seize, clench. His head snaps back, his spine tight as a bow strings.

He has no air to cry out, no breath to scream Hannibal's name although hangs on his lips. It's too much. Too much.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal keeps thrusting through most of it, but then it's too much, and he spills into Sinric's body, wrung out to the last drop by those clenching muscles.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric hangs limply in Hannibal's arms, barely conscious and gasping. The height of it was so extreme, it has left him all but senseless.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds him close and lets himself fall backwards, taking Sinric with him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric doesn't register their fall, or anything for some minutes.

He comes to resting against Hannibal's chest, aching from the pleasure of it and utterly wrung out. His hand moves tentatively over Hannibal's chest, seeking the reassurance of a heartbeat.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is alive, and breathing.

[thewidewideworld]

He didn't doubt Hannibal was alive, more that Sinric wanted to feel him.

He turns his head enough to lay a kiss on the curve of Hannibal's chest.

[cook_the_rude]

"Hmmm."

A pleased purr is all Hannibal manages.