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Will cuts through an alley while searching for Hannibal in Italy, and stumbles upon a man pressed into the wall with a gun to his stomach. He can't see the man threatening him from this angle, but he's wearing a blue shirt with little dachshunds on it, so it should be easy enough to identify him. The man being threatened spots him and calls out for help, and when the other man turns to look, Will feels his breath leave him. Hannibal sneers back at him.
"The fuck are you looking at, get the fuck out of here." The accent, clothes, words, and method of disposal are all wrong, but that face...
Will steps forward before he knows what he's doing, plasters himself to his side, and reaches out to wrap his hand around the whimpering man's neck. When he becomes limp, Will drops him, lets him crumple to the ground before giving his full attention to the man still standing.
"What the fuck?"
Will quickly finds himself in the unconscious man's position, pressed into a wall with a gun shoved up against his scar. He feels himself harden despite knowing that there's no way this is actually Hannibal. Just the visual is enough. He desperately hopes the other man doesn't notice. He does.
He smirks at Will, nudges a leg between his, and presses the gun into him harder. "Are you fucking getting off on this?"
"You look like someone I know." He can feel his face heat up.
"The thought of them pressing a gun into your stomach turns you on? Fucked up." The pressure on his scar fades as the gun slowly trails up next to his mouth. "A face like that, I bet you're a star cocksucker, hm? Why don't you show me."
Will waits for the click of the safety being put into place, but it never comes. It sends a thrill down his spine. He looks at the dangerous man through his lashes as he wraps his lips around the muzzle.
The heated look the man gives him makes him shiver, and Will's determined to get some sort of reaction. He slides his mouth further along the barrel of the gun, hollows his cheeks as he sucks. Will bobs his head a few moments then slips his tongue out to curl around the fingers resting on the trigger guard.
The man makes a sound and pulls away, quickly flipping Will around so his face is pressed into the rough side of the building. He hears the clink of his belt being unbuckled then feels his pants being dragged down, gun pressed to his back the whole time.
"Nigel." Will makes a confused sound as the man spreads his cheeks and spits on his hole. "So you know what to scream."
Suddenly a finger is pressing into him and he knows enough to try to relax. As his finger pulls out, another glob of saliva lands on his rim and is pushed inside. Will bites his lip to stifle a moan and spreads his legs wider. Nigel chuckles and continues to slide his finger in and out until he's loose enough to nudge a second finger in. He alternates between scissoring and curling his fingers, and then he's pressing against Will's prostate. His moan sounds absolutely wrecked. A third finger is added, never letting up the pressure on his prostate, even as he's stretched open.
"Nigel, please, I need- need more." He sounds desperate to his own ears.
"Such a slut. You beg for cock from every fucking guy with a gun?" Nigel pulls out his fingers and Will could cry from the loss. He whimpers.
"N-no. Just you." Will thinks maybe he shouldn't have said that when there's a long pause, but then Nigel is spitting on him again and he hears the sound of a zipper being undone. He feels the head of his cock at his slick rim and with a rough thrust, Will is so full.
They groan in unison.
Nigel shifts experimentally, adjusting his angle until he hits his prostate, then sets a punishing pace. Will's face scrapes against the building, leaving marks, but he barely notices.
He thinks he'd forget about the gun with the way the other man is pounding into him if he weren't also getting off to the way it's pressed into his spine. He wonders if this is anything like what Hannibal pictured when he had a gun to him. He was probably too busy lamenting the fact he wasn't using his hands.
Will is pulled out of his thoughts when Nigel's hand moves from his hip to trace around his rim. "You take cock like a fucking star. You do this a lot, slut?"
He arches his back in a way that jams the weapon further into his spine, trying to meet his thrusts. "Sluts have to start somewhere."
The pace stutters for a moment then Will is being violently slammed into, every push in sending sparks of heat through his body until it feels like a fire is starting. "They do. I think a slut like you needs a little fucking extra care though. Turn your face and open your mouth."
Will complies, angling his head off the wall and back towards Nigel. The gun slides up and back into his mouth, the safety clicked on this time. The finger circling his rim insistently pushes in right as Nigel hits his prostate with a particularly hard press and Will is coming hard, completely untouched and moaning his name. A few more short thrusts and he's filled with warmth.
Nigel removes the gun from his mouth first, then pulls away to clean himself up. Will's legs refuse to hold him up any longer and he collapses on the ground next to the still unconscious man, trying to catch his breath.
The other man comes close again, leaning in to touch his raw cheek. He leans into it despite the pain. "Tell that someone they should keep a closer eye on you, someone else might take an interest. Sluts like you need to be taken care of. Now, gorgeous, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."