OOM: For AU Sin(ric)

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's room in Milliways is quite simple, compared to the way he lived in Florence.

 

There is a book case full of well-worn old books, a small fireplace with a comfortable-looking chair, some historical prints of Florence, and a small harpsichord. There's a desk, and a desk chair to go with it. Most furniture is vintage midcentury modern, unobtrusively luxurious and classic. He even has what must be a small kitchen, made up from two towers and an island.

 

Everything is rich, warm wood and mature colours -- an off-grey, and some accents in oxblood red.

He turns on the lights, which are gentle and indirect, and leads Sin inside.

"Would you like a drink?"

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"So lovely," Hannibal murmurs, stroking the little breasts with deft and skillful fingers.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin ducks his head, blushing warmly. He rather tentatively strokes Hannibal's hair. Most men like his breasts but few are so gentle about it. Or spark such depth of sensation. His nipples harden, warm under Hannibal's hands.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal thumbs the little nubs, smiling into Sin's eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin shudders warmly, breathing little whimpers through his nose. His eyes are bright with desire but torn by confusion and uncertainty.

[cook_the_rude]

"You are allowed to like this," Hannibal murmurs.

[thewidewideworld]

"I'm-" Sin swallows, blushing hotly. "I'm not entirely sure I know how. My... experience of sex has never been about me."

[cook_the_rude]

"This isn't about sex," Hannibal says. "It's about pleasure. Yours."

[thewidewideworld]

He ducks his head, "And yours too, I hope."

It's easier to think this is not all about him. That he's not just taking from Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

"My pleasure," Hannibal says, "already lies in the privilege of touching you."

[thewidewideworld]

There are very few shades of red left that Sin can go. And yet Hannibal's words manage to add heat to his cheeks.

Trying to overcome his terminal blush, Sin leans in to kiss Hannibal. Both to silence him and distract himself. Those high, soft breasts press against Hannibal's chest.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's hands slide down Sin's back, following the supple curve of his spine.

[thewidewideworld]

He will feel a small area of ridged flesh at the small of Sin's back, just above the waistband of his jeans. A brand about the size of a large coin.

Sin stiffens a little as Hannibal reaches it, breaking the kiss.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tilts his head at him, more an encouragement of trust than active curiosity.

[thewidewideworld]

"An old scar." Sin tries to sound dismissive but his voice is shaking a little. "I forget it's there most of the time."

[cook_the_rude]

"What from?"

[thewidewideworld]

He swallows, clearly very uncomfortable. "The son of- of the man who use to keep me."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal tilts his head again.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin shakes his head. "It's not... a part of my life I like to dwell on. Or have others to know too much of." Lest they judge him harshly for it.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal bends his head and once more kisses Sin's breasts.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin lets his head fall back, grateful for the change of conversation. And for the feeling to focus on.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal slowly kisses his way down Sin's front, savouring each touch of his lips to the smooth skin.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin reaches back to steady himself on the couch, arching his back to offer himself up. The waist band of his jeans sits low on his hips, showing off the shape of his narrow waist.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal seems content to keep kissing and stroking Sin's skin.

[thewidewideworld]

Sin moans softly, stroking Hannibal's hair. "Would you- would you like me to undress? The rest of the way?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Oh yes," Hannibal says in a rough whisper.