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Will looked through his windshield, grimacing at the cottage already filled with agents. Police tape lined the area, even the surrounding woods. He never ignored his gut feeling, it saved his life more times than he could count, and sitting in the car, he felt a twinge down deep.
He took off his glasses to rub his eyes and slipped the lens in a cup holder. Within seconds of the engine shutting down, the cool breeze inside the car was replaced with the breath of a volcano. He walked the length of the stone pathway to the front of the cabin, flashing his badge to the patrolling officer before stepping inside. He noted old tires lining a corner of the cottage, thick and made for trucks. The front door was normal, no excessive locks or marks that proved a struggle took place. Both Jim Price and Brain Zeller were already in the kitchen and living area, pressing for prints and photographing sections of the rooms. Empty bottles laid on the wooden floor, the brand for particularly strong alcohol. Both of his coworkers were murmuring about misplaced shoes, and Will peered down the hallway.
Agents were in every room, creating more body heat in the tight space. Already Will’s lightweight clothing were proving to be too much for this sudden heat wave outside. To secure any forensic evidence, no windows could be opened to let in a much needed breeze. He looked at the stairwell leading to the basement before walking down it. Although it was substantially cooler, the tradeoff was looking into the dead eyes of a child. It was a case he didn’t imagine getting in the middle of the day, as evident by taking Jack’s call with a soap-covered hands. He had been outside in his front yard, washing his dogs in a cheap plastic pool filled with cold water, enjoying the day off until the news.
“Jack.”
The man stood by a wall divider, wide arms crossed, sweat visible down his dress shirt and along his brow. Will looked at his eyes, because the man was uncharacteristically looking down. His expression was tight, tense.
“Jack.” Will tried again, closer.
“Good afternoon,” He sighed, shoulders sagging. The frown didn’t leave his face. “Though there’s nothing good about it.”
Will cocked his head, leaning to his side to peak into the side room. There was a large wooden board bolted to a brick wall. Alana was inside the room, catching his gaze, and immediately began to clear the room of forensic case workers. Will could see hands shackled to the high corners of the board through the crowd of agents.
“I need you to prepare yourself for this.”
“I’m always prepared.”
Jack looked at him, really looked, and Will shifted his gaze to the inside of the emptying room. They had dealt with children before, ones committing the crime or victims of it. It had been difficult, but every case was in its own way. “His name was Jordan Miles.” A pause as Jack shook his head in remorse. “Just prepare yourself a little more.”
Will gave a weak smile to Alana, noticing the woman giving him an uneasy, silent nod in return. As the stairs creaked with exiting agents, one well-dressed man, despite the weather, made his way down. Will didn’t want to waste any more time though, and turned, walking inside the room to gauge the scene. He faintly registered the door closing behind him.
There was one board lining each of the four walls, all stained with blood and various marks. Only one still held its victim, naked, and Will shuddered as he looked at him, goosebumps enveloping his entire body like he had jumped into a bath he didn’t realize was cold.
The child wasn’t as young as Will thought. Instead he was somewhere between twelve and fifteen. His blond hair was tousled, some roots sticking out and bloody. Bruises covered the entire length of his body. His eyes were open, and Will could envision them the striking blue that they once were, vibrant, bright, smiling. Now they were dull, empty thought they seemed to stare directly at him.
A warmth unfurled in Will’s stomach, blooming downward and spreading between his thighs. As his eyes took in the victim; the positioning and injuries, the room; its bare walls and lack of murder weapons, the swoosh feeling in his stomach grew more intense.
Will closed his eyes, already feeling a pulse throb against his pants.
I drive along roads, searching for boys that meet the requirements of my fantasies. I spend hours doing this, waiting and stalking until I find one or two alone. I lure you to my vehicle, my truck, with an offer of a party or maybe just a lift into town. I talk to you while inside the running car to make you comfortable, but also so I can talk to you. I do this so I can look at you. I see your disinterested smile, but your teeth are so white. Your hair as golden as wheat fields. Your breath smells like fruit snacks and pizza. I see your blue eyes, striking and clear. That young, sprite body of a boy who hasn’t yet reached puberty. You’re hairless, no muscles yet tainting your lithe limbs. I can feel the warmth rolling off your body. Jordan, Jordan, Jordan. You are my Ganymede.
I told you I was giving you a lift into town, but I drive you to this cottage.
Here, I drown you with alcohol. I give you bottles to drink from, soothe you with casual conversation and make you trust me. I see that you’re still hesitant, so I use hypnotic drugs until you’re unaware of everything. I trick you into putting on handcuffs. I strip your body naked and carry you downstairs. I tie you to the plywood board, hanging you on my wall like a masterpiece. But it isn’t a work of art, not yet. My cock hardens in my jeans, it’s uncomfortable. I like the pain, and I bare with it until I can’t anymore. Until the tease overflows.
Will gasped as his breathing grew uneven. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, his thighs sliding to get friction.
Manacled, I wait until you are conscious so I can beat you. The walls around us are empty so we have no distractions. You only see me as I see you. Just you, pretty boy. Pretty, lovely boy. Your screams and groans are foreplay. I do this until I’m ready, until it physically hurts to wear my pants. I have you all to myself, feel your supple skin against my own. I keep you here until I’m finished, then I kill you with my own hands. It’s the only way. I wrap my hands around your small, pale neck and watch your naked chest heave, struggling with breaths. I leave you here, proud and spent. I take the house keys from your jeans as a keepsake. I want to remember your blue eyes. The way you felt from the inside.
“Will.”
His eyes opened wide and clouded, knees weak from the vision still playing in his head. The warm hand gripping Will’s shoulder made his body twist in desire. He grabbed Jordan’s hand, shoving him against the wall. He was beautiful, willing because he was so scared. Will pressed his own body against his, the urge to just rub, grind against anything overwhelmed him. He silenced the boy’s puzzled protest, using his height and weight to push against him. He growled in Jordon’s ear, told him the struggle is the best part, and he felt the small boy’s cock jump against his body at the words. Easily, Will crushed his lips on the small boy, kissing his mouth with a heated vigor. As a hand held the boy’s bare shoulders against the wall, his other pressed against his hairless stomach, trailing down and down-
The session didn’t last. The boy had a strength Will didn’t account for.
“William.”
He blinked. Oh-oh my god.
Jordan Miles transformed into Hannibal Lecter. He was pressed against the wall, right beside the dead corpse of the real Jordan, once again dead. Hannibal’s bottom lip began to trickle blood down his chin, his tie loosened and one tug away from ripping. He looked at Will concerned, immobile. Hannibal didn’t want to move if Will was detached from himself.
“Oh-oh my god, Hannibal…” He backed away, horrified at himself, anger quickly rising to take its place. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t done with the-…why would you come in here?”
Hannibal stepped away from the wall, deeming it safe to, and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his lip. He watched Will’s eyes change from dark slits into wide circles stricken with self-loathing and horror. The change was subtle, nearly fluid as Will regained control of his own consciousness.
The man quickly scanned his friend, a flush burning his face at the sight of Hannibal’s messed up shirt and the blood that had dripped there. Trailing down, he realized his actions had stirred something inside Hannibal. Something stiff began to press against his tailored trousers. Will looked elsewhere, desperately trying not to notice.
“I apologize for the intrusion. You were…upsetting a few agents on the other side of that door.”
Will caught his breath, tears building in the edges of his eyes as he processed what Jordan, what others, have gone through, what he had tried to do to his own friend. Will felt as though he urinated a little, a warm wetness smearing against the fabric of his pants. The heat was still there, lingering. Something had started, but because of Hannibal’s intermission, he never finished. Christ, what if I never broke through-
“Upsetting?” Will shook the remaining visions out of his head, walking back to the psychiatrist and awkwardly helped him adjust his tie and suit jacket. It was a fruitless endeavor. Will had pinned his colleague and rubbed up against him like some hormonal teenager, kissed and bit his mouth like…like-a killer obsessed with a sexual fantasy.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the crimson still clear on a pale face. “I didn’t-I wasn’t in my right…mind.”
“I know. It was my mistake.” Hannibal tucked the bloody fabric back into his pocket, tapping a single finger against his lip to check the small gash. Will looked away, feeling the sensitivity still down there. It was like going over a hill constantly, that swoosh feeling just never going away. He touched his own mouth, frantically wiping when he felt the remains of saliva and Hannibal’s blood. “Will, I came in here because you were making noise.”
“Noise?”
“I like to think we’re friends before colleagues.” Hannibal gently turned Will away from the hung corpse. “That said, I’m going to be candid with you, Will. You were moaning.”
The desire to fill and be filled continued to engulf him, it grew so badly it hurt. He didn’t know whether to cry or ask Hannibal to touch his back again. Touch anything.
“M-moaning?”
His skin tingled, radiating from that single but strong throbbing in his dick. It hurt to walk. Oh-oh god, he glanced down. He hadn't wet himself. The heat didn’t make it feel wet down there. It actually was. Another sort of pre-release had come. No sudden heat wave could excuse that. Everyone would know.
“It’s all right, Will.”
He stood, frozen, hands digging into his jean pockets. He was nervous to put them anywhere else. A fabric draped over his shoulders shortly after.
“What-”
“Wear it to your car. I will tell Jack you are not feeling well.”
“He knew. He knew this would happen.”
Hannibal faced the distressed man, slightly crouching to meet the hazel eyes. Will focused on the torn lip. He faintly registered that Hannibal’s minor problem between his legs had already solved itself. The man had a restraint Will just couldn’t find at the moment. “No. It is a heinous crime and you’re troubled by it. Like the rest.”
Will swallowed, nodding but not completely convinced. Always favoring to rip the bandaid off instead of a slow torture, Will opened the door without a second to spare and ignored every agent or friend who tried to get his attention. He bared through the heat in Hannibal’s casual jacket, a button conveniently clasped at his waistline.
He made it only one mile away before pulling over. In the car, with the engine still running, Will shoved a hand down his pants until relief was found. It took less than ten seconds until it spilled in his hand. He came with that boy’s image in his head, but Hannibal’s name on his tongue and his taste on his lips.
- - -
Will was unusually stiff during the next session in Hannibal’s office. Suffering a thorough embarrassment in front of his coworkers, Hannibal especially, Will subconsciously felt the need to restate his dominance. Nervous, in need of reassurance, Will browsed around the psychiatrist’s office. He purposely chose areas behind Hannibal’s desk, an area typically reserved for the doctor, but made the space Will’s own. He fiddled with his shirt’s sleeve as he browsed book titles and medical textbooks.
Hannibal watched him, eyeing the frightened creature with admiration and interest, but above all else; curiosity. He had never expected Will to act the way he did in the cabin. He wasn’t angry at his mistake, it had earned him a few trophy marks from Will, a few beautiful scratches and the tease of Will against his skin. It was surreal to think the frightened doe in his office was that same person who growled in his ear, who settled weight over him in a desperate need of a claim. The assertiveness had driven a dormant sensation through Hannibal’s body, creating one that pulsated between his legs.
Only when Will took his usual chair with an clumsy flop, Hannibal left his spot from against the desk, and took his seat across from the other man. Twenty minutes of mindless, painfully obvious distraction, Hannibal decided to change the subject.
“Would you like to talk about the case?”
Reflexively, Will glanced at Hannibal’s jacket he had returned to him. It hung, neatly, on a coat rack. Will rubbed his eyes. “What case?”
“The one you’re actively avoiding a discussion about.”
“Then you should know the answer to your question.”
“I admit I brought it up to gauge your reaction. You have negative feelings toward it.” Hannibal stroked the pen in his hand, ready to feign the act of taking professional notes. He was positively eager for this opportunity with Will since the episode in West Virginia. He caught himself licking the scab along his lip often, his thoughts always trailing vividly back to how Will teeth punctured his skin. How Will’s eyes were positively alive, staring directly at Hannibal with every intent to touch and make the body he felt his.
Hannibal watched as Will folded over, elbows resting on his thighs, hands propping his head up. “It’s disgusting. Embarrassing. Depraved. Take your pick. At least twenty adjectives adjacent to perverted apply. I still can’t get over what I almost did to you.”
“You dive into the minds of serial killers. One motivated by sexual gratification was bound to cross your path eventually.”
“Yes, I know, but…this was different.” Will was practically caving in on himself, a ball of nervous tension and sweaty anxiety. It made his aftershave even more sweet smelling, the aroma strong and rolling off him in waves. Will was beautiful when he revealed a new crack in his teacup. Exposed and vulnerable. Hannibal caught him over ten times already sneaking glances at his lip. Will had liked what happened. And he resented himself for it.
The man was in a desperate need of something he didn’t want to admit. Hannibal would give him a satisfaction one way, or another.
“Can you tell me about your past romantic relationships?” Hannibal uncrossed his leg, then crossed the other. Will just stared at the floor, face contorting like tasting something sour. “You’re an attractive and healthy man, Will. Surely women have expressed interest in the past.”
“There was one in high school.” He relented, wiping sweat from his palms on his pants. “Some in college. They never lasted long, because of me.”
“Most are not willing to admit it was them to blame.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “it was obvious. I was never…what they thought I was. What they first called mysterious became distant. Handsome became dull. Intelligence became arrogance. And I never tried to change for them.”
Hannibal nodded. “You matured at an early age.”
“And that was the worse thing that could happen. In college, I started to seek out other men, thinking, you know, maybe that’s was my problem. Wrong team, or something like that. And I found some guys I could really talk to.” He sighed, long and slow. “I came to realize those never worked either.”
“Your empathy.” Hannibal waited for Will to continue.
“I always knew what they were after. Women and men.” He shifted in his seat. “Pretty clearly. There’s…heh…there’s a difference between seeking attention, and randomly getting it. Bars, events on campus, even the library I had to avoid. When I entered the academy, I didn’t even try. Didn’t want to.”
“What about sex?”
A silence rolled in like a thick wall of fog. Hannibal imagined he could take a knife and cut through it.
“What?”
“You do not have to be in a committed relationship to have sex. Do you engage often?”
Will laughed, leaning back in his chair so his back relaxed against the cushion. “It’s never been fun for me. I always…bring death into the bedroom. Seeing so many crime scenes, being inside so many heads…death and sex are interchangeable. The last lucid time was probably at the academy, my last year.”
Will was anxious, suddenly springing from the chair without any preamble. Hannibal watched him, his nose flaring at the smell of burnt wood and apprehension. Will stood, facing away from him. “I was working on a…particularly bad case. One night, feeling horrible, I was with someone.” He turned, sweaty hands on hips. “Right when…you know…I was about to see stars, I see the victim on the girl’s face instead.”
Hannibal closed his notebook, gently placing it on the small table. He didn’t look away from Will, didn’t want to. “The last lucid time?”
“I can’t enjoy sex while…aware. Not anymore. So I drink. I like it for a little while, but then the high simmers down and turns into something that I just want over with.”
“There is also the issue of consent with the situation you described, Will.”
His gaze flickered in Hannibal’s general direction, but lately even looking at his forehead or chin seemed impossible. “That’s why I rarely…engage. Instead, I…you know.” He rubbed his fingers, shifting on his feet. “The urge seldom strikes, but I do it enough as to not worry about crime scenes doing it for me.”
“Do you think of it as repression? Do you consider the lack of physical contact a troubling side effect of your empathy?”
“No. I don’t need it.”
Hannibal stood from his position on the chair, closing the distance, allowing just a few feet of space between them both. He gave a faint smile. “You’re incredibly tense, Will. Already a teacup with many cracks, I wonder what will happen when you find yourself teetering along the edge of a table.”
“Maybe I’ll just push myself off the edge?” Will asked, fatigue lining his words. “And maybe I’ll like it? No. I don't think so.”
- - - -
“How is the case going?” Hannibal returned to his dining room with refilled wine glasses. Will was sitting at his opposite, chewing the spiced pancetta from a fettuccine dish. The pancetta wasn’t its true definition of Italian bacon made from belly meat of a pig, but thus far into the meal, the younger man only gave genuine compliments.
He returned a glass to Will, watching as Will took an eager swallow.
“Is that dinner conversation?” Will supplied. Hannibal filled his fork, enthusiasm slipping through his person suit and coming to rest as a permanent, but soft, smile on his features.
“Anything is conversation if we wish to discuss it.”
Will’s shoulders shook with laughter. He knew the wine had something to do with it, a slight but noticeable buzz in his head making it easier to look at Hannibal near his eyes. It must have been affecting the other man too; they both seemed to be oddly content, really satisfied with each other’s company.
“It’s lust. A lust serial killer.” Will replied. “The man brutally and sadistically kills multiple victims to achieve…the ultimate sexual satisfaction. There’s a cooling period, then he does it again.”
“Seems typical in this category of killer,” Hannibal studied Will’s dilated eyes closely, the blush of his cheeks.
The scab over his bottom lip had healed completely, but that didn’t stop Hannibal from pressing his finger against it when he was alone. He had never felt so curious as he did in that cabin’s basement. Tonight was the night it would finally be satisfied.
He listened to Will’s speech closely as well, waiting for the moment where he would still be mindful, perceptive, but docile.
“The goal,” Will continued after another bite, “is pleasure, satisfaction, control through…hostile daydreams. The man acts on them and after each performance, he will have to envision even more violent fantasies in order to act them out. Get that satisfaction again.” He knew he shouldn’t keep sipping the red wine, the thought of driving later crossing his mind, but his hand still picked up the glass, his lips still cupped the rim. It was so warm going down his throat, warming the rest of him. Like a train slowing at its last station, Will felt an undeniable sense of serenity. He was home.
“We’re….looking at a white male. Between 25 and 45. With a childhood involving a sexual trauma. He’s…” he blinked, “isolated from society, unemployed. Has lots of time on his hands. Lives in the area. Drives a truck built in the mid to late 90’s.”
“Have you informed Jack of this profile?”
“Over the phone, yes. He didn’t ask about the incident.”
Hannibal had cleaned his plate, expensive silverware laying in the center. There was just a small window of time to wait for the drugs in the drink to swarm throughout Will’s body and taint every blood cell. His mind wouldn’t cloud, in fact, the exact opposite should occur. Hannibal waited, patiently, for Will to be completely free from the strict reservations he placed on himself. Soon, he would have no limitations. No reason to feel nervous or afraid. No thoughts telling him no.
“He wouldn’t. Mentioning it would serve no purpose.”
“No,” Will smiled. “It would just…confirm the fact there’s something wrong with me. Jack likes to…pretend I’m alright to keep me on….the job.”
“Will?”
He placed his hands on the edge of the table, gripping it to steady himself. He stared at the empty glass, blinking. “Did you put something in my drink?” It was more of an innocent observation, than an accusation.
Hannibal was careful with the tone of his voice. “Why do you ask?”
Will hummed a little, smiling, looking up at Hannibal with something like amusement in his eyes. “My head is so clear. I feel…wonderful.”
“Then I wouldn’t question the reason why. You rarely feel so free of inhibitions, Will.” Hannibal stood then, feeling the monster within leaping at the opportunity to sink its teeth into a ready doe.
"Free of inhibitions…” The phrase rolled across Will’s tongue as he watched the man round the table. “I tried drugs in college.” Will casually stated. Hannibal estimated he wasn’t even aware of his mind’s condition. “Horrible experience. Learned the hard way I couldn’t trust anyone.”
“You can trust me, Will.” He extended a hand, and Will took it to bring himself to a full stand. It was difficult.
“I don’t think I want up.” He blinked. The man slipped his hand away from Hannibal’s, bending his knees as he sank to the floor instead. Hannibal watched Will as he did this, as his legs crossed and he sat facing away from the table. Above his head, on the table, Will’s plate still had remains of his dish. In a single motion, Hannibal grasped the plate’s edge and a fork, before buckling down and joining Will on the carpet.
“Oh, I don’t think I can finish that.” He commented. Hannibal was at his side, close enough for their knees to touch. Will didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Will was looking directly into Hannibal’s eyes. Brown meeting hazel.
“I don’t expect you to. I want you to give it to me instead.”
Will just nodded, grabbing the plate from his doctor’s grasp like the request was expected. He picked up the fork with his other hand, gathering a small amount before bringing it to Hannibal’s lips. He opened his mouth slowly, eyes locked on Will’s own, and allowed the man to push the food past his lips. His eyelids flickered as he drew back to swallow it. Will swallowed excess saliva as he watched him, a heat rising.
Will was about to draw his hand back when Hannibal swiftly held his wrist by his mouth still, and he licked the lingering tomato sauce from the fork. Will finally snapped out of Hannibal’s gaze, his eyes falling instead to his mouth. Will wanted to touch those lips again. Feel the heat of his body much closer than how they already were.
Will didn’t question the sudden desire. It was just there, as primal as the need for food or water.
Hannibal’s mouth left the fork, sliding up to Will’s hand. He placed kisses there, trailing up his arm as the grasp stayed around his wrist. Will’s eyes widened at what Hannibal was doing to him, goosebumps emerging as he traveled up his arm with slow, torturous kisses. Will closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep, feeling Hannibal’s lips reach his shoulder, collarbone, then, finally, the pulse on his throat.
Will’s hand dropped the plate, but he didn’t hear it meet the ground. He gasped, eyes shooting back open, and he turned to face Hannibal completely. His hands lifted Hannibal’s chin up from his own neck, and he pressed forward to make his mouth collide with Hannibal’s.
It was the crack in the dam that gave way to water. The snap of a tree that caused the avalanche. A teacup crashing onto a tiled floor.
Will pressed into Hannibal greedily, pushing himself into his lap and held the man’s head in place with hands on both sides. His legs positioned themselves on either side of his doctor's hips, squeezing, enveloping. Will’s tongue felt where the gash once was on Hannibal's bottom lip, telling Hannibal that yes, he remembered, and yes, I want to give you even more marks. It wasn’t a killer speaking through him, it wasn’t even Will. His mind was blissfully blank, instinct driving him in its place.
When Will broke free of the kiss, both of them had to catch their breaths. Will stayed pressed against Hannibal’s chest, weight resting on his knees to meet Hannibal’s height even while the man sat. His forehead rested on Hannibal’s own. Will looked at him, eyes glossy.
“I feel really good, Hannibal.” He said between breaths.
“I can make you feel even better, Will.” It was a promise that he knew Hannibal wouldn’t break. A sweet song hitting directly between his legs.
Will felt like laughing again, the euphoria strong, but instead he just pressed himself against Hannibal again. Hands couldn’t stay in one place as they grasped the man’s broad shoulders, sweeping up his neck and to the back of his head. Will kissed him again, feeling Hannibal’s smile against his mouth, and it prompted him to touch the doctor even more.
It didn’t feel like a hallucination. It was like a camera lens that couldn’t focus. At times everything was blurry, nothing more than fuzzy shadows touching and being touched by him. But often, Will’s eyes widened so much that the image cleared to a perfect crisp. He could make out every eyelash on Hannibal, every single strand of hair on his scalp. Hannibal’s face was so close to his now, the prominent jaw line that had no traces of stubble whatsoever, and even a soft smile. Knowing hands wandered all over Will’s body, spurring fiery tingles on every inch of his skin, and strong arms tightened around him, whisking away any remains of hesitation. Will’s head wasn’t filled with a soft buzz. There was only the feel of Hannibal’s skin, the warmth of his mouth, the way he moved- insistently and almost eager, yet there was some patience hidden underneath it all. Will kissed him again. His fingers began to claw at the pressed waistcoat and stumble over his shirt, trying to tug it out of his pricey trousers and sneak beneath them.
Hannibal’s breath snagged when Will’s nails grazed against his ribcage. He kissed Will with more viciousness, and something inside him snapped at the realization that Will’s tongue wasn’t submissive like the precious creature it was attached to. It attacked Hannibal back while the hand moved underneath, pulling Hannibal by his shirt even closer. He broke the kiss to look at Will, evening his breathing, but he couldn’t keep away for too long. He vaguely remembered taking off Will’s shirt, but seeing him half naked was a pleasant surprise. His eyes slid down the tempting flesh, the rising chest and veins he could see through pale skin. He allowed his reserve to fall, not wanting -not anymore- to resist. There was no need to now. This entire moment would vanish from Will’s mind like a dull dream.
Will’s arms wrapped around him like a familiar lover, and his fingers tangled in Hannibal’s neat hair as he sucked at the skin of his neck until it bloomed with red marks. Hannibal exhaled, sliding his hands under Will, unable to hide his joy as he tried to stand; Will wouldn’t let him go. He held Will’s back and the underside of his thighs, lifting him to sit atop the table. The trouble of clutter was solved when Will laid himself out on the dinning table, pushing aside decorative plants and the lavender placemat. It had been Hannibal’s intention to have him as he sat with legs dangling, standing over Will. But Will grabbed him by his own tie, bringing him down to his level.
Hannibal gracefully crawled on top of him, smile ever present, and Will sighed in ecstasy from the pressure. He tried to look at the ceiling, but there was nothing but a strange whirlwind, ceiling tiles moving in his vision, so he closed his eyes for a second. Hannibal scattered kisses all over his face and neck, biting occasionally, and his hands moved with purpose over his chest, smoothing down his sides, slipping under him and caressing the small of his back. The teasing fingers flicked against the muscles of Will’s lower stomach, causing an eruption of warmth at the back of his spine, and without thinking, Will spread his legs wider so Hannibal could settled between them and push down, rubbing against his length unhurriedly.
Hannibal continued to kiss and nip at him, at times licking, as if he couldn’t sate himself, his hunger growing with each second. It felt so good compared to anything Will had experienced in the past, it felt like it was the first time someone really wanted him. All of him.
Will pulled the man closer, his lips seeking for the warmth and mouth of someone who had been prodding his mind for the past number of months, and it was all that he wanted, nothing else could weed out this urge; he wanted to be wanted by this man, to dissolve against him.
The tongue began to circle over his nipple, and Will sucked in a breath as the velvet lips closed around it, the tip moving against it back and forth. His back arched, and Hannibal moved his hips slyly against the heat growing between Will’s legs. A trail of lingering kisses ascended up his chest and neck until they were face to face. Maybe it was a sex-starved hallucination; after all, Hannibal Lecter couldn’t possibly had it in him to look at Will like this, but Will’s lips stretched in a smile anyway- it was the best dream he had ever had.
Will reached up to cup the psychiatrist’s face in his hands and kiss him feverishly one more time.
Hannibal slid his arms under Will’s back, embracing him- they held each other while kissing-it had to be a dream. Will’s smile widened, a soft laughter bubbling in his throat, and he felt two light pecks land on each corner of his lips before the tongue wandered down his neck. It massaged the more sensitive spots while it kept going further and further down.
The fabric of Hannibal’s shirt chafing against Will’s skin finally became frustrating enough, so Will pushed him away, just enough so he could reach the buttons and start undoing them, the effort evidently slowed down with his trembling fingers. Will was so eager, so lustful, something mundane was suddenly harder than fixing a boat’s engine.
Hannibal pushed his hands away, untucking his shirt and unfastened the buttons at a record pace. He leaned over Will, allowing Will’s hands to ghost down his chest, his fingers caressing the sparse light hairs. Hannibal felt his heartbeat sputter, a foreign sensation, and he watched, amazed, because Will just couldn’t stop touching, unaware of what it was doing to him. Will was just indulging himself, high off the feel of his skin.
It almost surprised Will how smooth, and warm, how human Hannibal’s body felt against his. Will closed his eyes and licked his psychiatrist’s neck when the man lowered his head to place a kiss on his temple. Will had always wanted to do it, and Hannibal must have known. Will wanted to taste him, to be closer, he wanted what was beneath the layers of expensive fabrics, and he had to deny himself of that every single time, trying to trick his mind into believing he only experiencing the side effects of repression for so long.
His arms closed tighter around the wide body. He kissed the spot between Hannibal’s collarbones, listening to him breathe when his tongue started to stroke his earlobe, his teeth nipping gently at the delicate flesh.
Hannibal burrowed his face into the crook of Will’s neck, almost giving in to the embrace, but the odd moment of compliance ended quickly when the lips started their journey anew over Will’s body. His tongue rolled over a hardened nipple while his hand slowly smoothed down Will’s stomach until it reached the waistband of his pants. After loitering for a few seconds, it slid further down between his thighs, stoking lazily, but incessantly. Will’s breath quickened, and he finally gave into a loud moan. The deft tongue and the teeth brushing gently against the vulnerable tip of flesh sent a surge of ticking heat throughout his entire body with each stroke, and his neck arched back when the touch of the hand became firmer, its movements growing faster.
Will almost let out a disappointed cry when it stopped, resting at his hip, but the hot tongue began to descend down his chest, down the faint line of hair, flicking over his ribs, and leaving a trail of teasing tingles in its wake. Hannibal climbed off Will, easing his knees to the floor as Will’s dangling legs surrounded him on either side. Will felt cold the moment Hannibal broke contact, watching as he bit Will’s hipbone through the fabric. His fingers slid under Will’s ass, tightening. The teeth grazed down the zipper of his pants.
The dining room seemed purposeful now. Will couldn’t help but try to widen his legs even more, the thought of Hannibal making a meal out of him nearly sending him past the tipping point.
The vibrations and Hannibal’s hot breath made Will’s hips jerk involuntarily, and he realized he had no control over his reactions. The fingers moved to his waistband and started to maneuver around it, tugging at the seams and unzipping the pants.
Hannibal pulled them off his body immediately, eyeing the black briefs and the length peeking out of them. He swept down, pushing the material down, and lapped up some wetness already there, kissing it gently. His hands held Will’s dangling knees, making sure he wouldn’t move. Will stifled a groan, his thighs shuddering in a spasm of pleasure. The tongue teased the length of it, sliding back up, lingering a little at the sensitive tip until Will started to squirm, but it ended too quickly. Will sighed when the hot mouth left him.
Hannibal stood, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. He cradled the back of Will’s head in his hand. “Do not move from this spot,” he whispered.
Will followed Hannibal’s retreating form, in a state unable to comprehend anything but pleasure and the need for more of it. Within moments Hannibal leaned over him again, caressing his skin and nuzzling his neck. It didn’t distract Will’s attention from the small grey tube Hannibal returned with.
He watched Will’s curious, but suppliant gaze, and confirmed his thoughts when he crept closer. “I never go back on my word, Will.”
His lips curved from the smile that leaped onto Will’s face.
“P-please. I haven’t felt-”
“Shh-” A firm kiss silenced him. Will just closed his eyes and nodded knowingly. Hannibal placed gel on his fingers, and Will felt his pulse quicken when his eyes followed Hannibal’s hand, sliding between his legs. His teeth gritted at the sudden, but pleasant sensation. The fingers lingered for a while, using some of Will’s own precome to his advantage, before one of them started to enter him slowly. The muscles of Will’s stomach flexed involuntarily. It took him some time to get accustomed to the languid friction inside of him, but after a while, he loved it, wanted to be filled like that, and when the second finger joined, stretching him and scissoring, curling upwards, rubbing a glorious spot, he couldn’t help but writhe and moan. And Hannibal didn’t want him to stop. He kept fingering Will diligently, his other hand closing around his leaking cock.
Will twitched, and his hips bucked up on their own. The tingling spreading over his entire body slowly started to drive him mad. He looked at Hannibal, and he really didn’t care what the man might have thought of his pleading gaze; he needed Hannibal, close, as close as possible.
Hannibal stopped his motions, unzipped his pants, and spread some lube over his length, looking back at Will with a strangely affectionate expression. He crept up between his legs, his hands ghosting up the insides of Will’s thighs, and leaned down, licking his collarbone and neck. As the hot tongue meandered upwards, his hands slid under Will’s hips and pulled them toward the edge of the table. Will arched against him, sitting up to get closer.
The remains of willpower left his body, and Hannibal gave in completely, immersed in scorching anticipation. He began to enter.
Will’s breathing quickened even more, coming in ragged gasps. It burned, but he had never wanted anything more in his life. He wanted to feel Hannibal move inside him, he wanted to come apart with his weight pressing into him- he wanted all of that for so long now, even if he barely ever acknowledged it.
Will let out a groan of pleasure mixed with impatience when Hannibal started to slowly pull out. The doctor prepared him well, it didn’t really hurt at all, and whatever flowed through his veins helped Will relax even more. A new surge of heat erupted in his lower stomach when Hannibal angled another languid thrust up a little, the throbbing, hard flesh moving against the right spot. The fingers tightened over his hips, and Will began to push back despite the burning. His own cock rubbed against the hair between Hannibal’s legs when he leaned in a little more before starting to pull out again, but he didn’t make Will wait too long for another burst of pleasure, moving his hips knowingly and aiming perfectly. Will couldn’t help the soft whimpering leaving his mouth, and his back curved against on its own, his hips moving on their own accord. The smooth skin ghosted against his cock, his tip, one more time, and his hips bucked up even harder.
Will closed his eyes, and his lips curled back in a satisfied, lustful grin, because after a few minutes of the maddening preparation, Hannibal finally took the hint and quit being gentle.
Hannibal was fucking him, pushing into him with such cruel ferocity, and he was just coming undone in front of him, unabashed, his entire body begging for more because he loved it, he loved the feel of Hannibal’s nails digging into his skin and scratching down his ribs, clawing at his chest as if Hannibal wanted to rip it open and crawl inside him, his teeth and tongue teasing his nipples, his hands wandering further and further down- Will didn’t moan anymore, he screamed when the fingers closed in on his dick, smoothing it one second, stroking it hard and fast in another, soft fingertips slicked with warm gel massaging the tip, circling around it over and over again.
The agonizing pleasure accumulated in his lower abdomen, and his senses started to shut out one by one. Will didn’t know what he was doing anymore. His arms reached up, snaking around Hannibal’s body as best he could, and he pulled Hannibal closer, his fingers curling over the hot skin. He clung to him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and breathing in his smell, the screams slowly dying away, giving place to short, fervid gasps. Will’s eyes rolled back. The heat kept building up, spreading over him in rippling, paralyzing waves with each insistent thrust, with the teeth biting at his earlobe, with the fingers stroking harder and faster, with the firm flesh rubbing against him, melting and merging with his own, until something in him burst out without any warning. His whole body convulsed against the table, but Hannibal hadn’t stopped yet, pushing into him, coaxing the fever into each of his veins until Will thought he was about to overflow.
The sudden release snatched the scant remains of awareness out of his head. Will went blind for a few seconds, the only things keeping him conscious were Hannibal’s teeth biting into his neck and his cock still moving deep inside him as he came.
Will’s body slowly started to fall prey to the numbing comfort when he heard the delicious sound coming out of Hannibal’s throat as he reached his own release. Will sighed at the feel of the a new warmth filling him, and his arms slid down the man’s slippery skin, welcoming Hannibal when he eased down on him like a lump, breathing against his neck.
Will burrowed his face into the blond locks and closed his eyes. Finally, Hannibal pulled out. Will felt the soft lips pressed against his skin stretch in a smile. The image was pulsating in accord with the stirred blood still rushing through his veins, blurring out and shifting. A wave of soft tingles ran through his body with each breath, and his mind still didn’t want to switch gears and acknowledge what they had done.
Will chose to bask in his blissfully unaware condition a little longer. A cheek brushed against his face, and soon enough, Hannibal looked at Will from behind half-closed eyelids. He was smiling. Will gave him a slight, sated smile in return, even though the strangely tranquil gaze sent shivers down his spine. He thought he saw something else in Hannibal’s eyes, something that made his insides churn in a weird way, but it couldn’t be real. He wasn’t himself enough to see straight.
Hannibal lifted himself off Will, finding just enough room to lay beside the other man on the table. Will’s eyelids felt so heavy, but his gaze followed Hannibal’s movements longingly. He sighed when the warm body returned to him, arms wrapping around him tightly, and Will felt a soft kiss land on his forehead before he fell asleep.