i_am_your_host | OOM - upstairs with Sinric

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OOM - upstairs with Sinric

During Emcee's recovery in his room, he became a recluse. He couldn't find the motivation to go downstairs (too tired, too lazy, too sad, too unsure of himself), so he would ask George to see if any of his friends were around. To talk, and perhaps to let the talking lead to other things. Jay, Sinric...even Eric.

At least, he thought, he might be ready to take up his other old habits.

(He wasn't certain if he could feel Eric's presence. It might have just been wishful thinking. Or not.)

As it happens, Sinric is in the bar when George goes on this particular errand. He floats up to the long-haired blond and chirps out the sounds Emm See! at him, and moves backward toward the stairs as a gesture to follow.

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That voice is rather inspiringly warming and Sinric strokes down to the hollow of Emcee's belly and back up to his chest.

Well, that feels nice. He makes it known with a growly little noise of approval.

"I think I'm a much better conversationalist than a cat, though."

Perhaps especially with this voice. With the guttural accent, the smoke-and-gin, gravel-on-velvet warmth in Sinric's ear, the touch of stubble on his skin.

"That you are." Sinric sighs warmly, his eyes still closed. "Your voice has it's own magic to warm me to the core."

Emcee is quiet for a moment as his eyelids flutter open, his lashes brushing against Sinric's skin.

"Does it really?"

"It does indeed." Sinric smiles, turning to look at Emcee, his eyes opening slowly. "Your voice brings me a feeling of joy, of belonging, of safety and warmth and love." He glitters a smile. "And of desire."

And hearing this, in turn, especially from Sinric, warms Emcee to his own core.

"I would be remiss if I didn't inspire at least a twinge of desire," he murmurs, wryly self-deprecating.

He touches Sinric's cheek, and gives him a light kiss on the lips.

"It means so very much to me to know. Thank you."

"You are as a brother to me, Emcee." Sinric whispers, returning the light kiss.

"As you are to me," he whispers in reply, a warm smile on his lips.

Emcee has never really thought of anyone as a brother before, mostly because he doesn't know what having a brother feels like. But with Sinric...this is probably the closest connection he's ever had that was more than even the closest of lovers.

He sighs contentedly, leaning his forehead against Sinric's for a moment.

"Well, then, brother, what do you say to some breakfast? Because I am fucking starving."

Sinric nuzzles Emcee's cheek, kissing him softly.

The comment makes him laughs and he hugs Emcee tight. "Breakfast sounds wonderful. Shall we go down or have some food brought up?"

Emcee chuckles into Sinric's hair as he slips an arm around him and slings a leg over his hip.

"Mmm, let's have it brought up and be absolutely decadent about it. You order what you like to eat, I'll order what I like to eat, and we can share."

Sinric cuddles closer, pressing against Emcee as his stretches over him. "I like the sound of that." He strokes a hand down Emcee's back.

Emcee gently rolls Sinric over until he's straddling him, and he leans in to nibble the side of his neck.

"I wouldn't want to pass up the chance to feed you my breakfast sausage," he quips with a playful purr.

Sinric laughs warmly and tilts his head to exposed his throat. "Or the chance for you to enjoy my vizompala." The Greek slang may not translate well but it's a reference to breasts or a pudding.

He huffs a laugh against his skin.

"Mmm, I cannot wait to find out how that will taste," he murmurs, before planting a warm, lingering kiss to the pit of his throat.

"Right. I ought to get out of bed and fetch a rat before I eat you."

Sinric wraps his legs around Emcee's thighs, rubbing slowly against him. "I would hardly object. But yes, we should."

Oh, so it's like that.

"Yes, well, it would be the most logical thing to do, seeing as how hungry we both are," he says, scraping his teeth lightly over his skin while slowly moving his hips in return.

Sinric whimpers warmly and cups the globes of Emcee's rear.

Emcee raises himself up on his hands, planted on either side of Sinric's shoulders. His hips gyrate, slow and serpentine, grinding him into the piles of soft furs.

He's growing hard and is making sure Sinric feels it.

Sinric groans and strokes his way up Emcee's back. "I will beg you to take me if you keep doing that." Not that he's objecting. At all. He grinds back, pressing his chest up so his soft breasts are warm against Emcee.

Emcee bows his back under his hands and rolls his hips.

"You never have to beg with me, darling," he murmurs with a moan, "unless you want to, of course..."

"I would beg you, my dear mirror." He cupping the back Emcee's neck, nuzzling his throat. "I would beg a taking I rarely desire. But with you, I find I desire it. Because I trust you, because I know I want this joy with you." He kisses Emcee deeply and rolls over beneath him, offer Emcee his back.

Emcee flushes hot at his words as much as his kiss, as much as the feel of his body beneath him. And when he turns over, showing him how much he trusts him, his own desire grows exponentially.

He slowly lowers himself to lay on top of him. He's not heavy, but he rests most of his weight on his elbows as he sweeps Sinric's long hair aside. He kisses the back of his neck, his shoulder. His lips grazing the scars.

Sinric raises himself on his elbows a little bit, arching his neck to expose more of his scarred skin. He presses back against Emcee, spreading his legs wider.

He purrs softly, his breath warm on Sinric's skin. And he's already hard, the length of his flesh pressing between his buttocks.

"I like the oils you use," he murmurs near his ear. "Do you have any at hand?"

Sinric nods and reaches out with one hand to fetch the oil from dresser. "Please, don't be too gently with me. I want to feel you deeply."

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