malleusveritatis: (Default)
Constable Ichabod Crane ([personal profile] malleusveritatis) wrote in [community profile] herbgarden2015-06-15 09:29 pm

Oᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛ: Cᴏɴsᴛᴀʙʟᴇ Iᴄʜᴀʙᴏᴅ Cʀᴀɴᴇ

"Sᴇɴsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ, ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴsᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ... Oʜ ʟᴏʀᴅ, I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ
ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍʏ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ."

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itrhymes: (omnomnom)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-03-24 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
Ichabod is often anxious, wrapped up in the specific details of events so that it can blind him to the overall picture. At its worst, Hannibal finds it endearingly, intriguingly simple. He assumed it would eventually grow tiring, and yet with familiarity comes an expectation for the great degree of care Ichabod takes in all those little pieces that grab his attention so. To see that vexed but dedicated care pointed at himself is touching, in a way Hannibal thought himself untouchable.

Ichabod's hand is warm, and despite his clear worry, his palm is dry. Hannibal's eyes slide closed and his neck relaxes by degrees. It tucks his chin forward as his pressure back against the pillow relaxes. "Yes." Ichabod's hand is hesitant at first, and always gentle, but the light pressure is appreciated this early on in his arousal. It gives him something to follow, to wish for, and isn't all of sex and romance a series of dancing closer and closer towards the end goal, prolonging the game as long as possible, enjoying the chase?

"Please," Hannibal says, eyes opening. "Go slower."
Edited 2016-03-24 01:23 (UTC)