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They're both sweaty and still breathing hard, Hannibal a welcome weight on top of Will, one he holds close. Hannibal's breath is almost unpleasantly loud in Will's ear and he's clutching Will's shoulders tightly as if for balance. He's at his most human to Will after sex, and it never seems to last long enough.
Will loosens his arms, runs his palms from Hannibal's shoulder blades down to the dip of his lower back and up again, comforting even to himself. Slowly, Hannibal's grip relaxes, and slowly, Will's cock softens enough that it slips wetly from where he'd been buried inside Hannibal, shivering at even the slight friction on his oversensitized skin.
Hannibal doesn't move to get up or even roll over, his nose still pushed into the side of Will's neck, breath hot and not yet slowing down. Will can move his arms more easily now that Hannibal isn't holding him so tightly, and he tangles his finger tips in the slightly damp hair at the nape of Hannibal's neck, then strokes down as far as he can reach, over the round of Hannibal's ass to the delicate place it meets his thighs.
Will is sated, physically. And yet he feels and gives in to the urge to squeeze Hannibal's ass, hard enough to pull a soft sound from him, then lets his hands wander restlessly again. Hannibal shifts slightly higher, the curve of his lower back growing more concave as Will's palms slide over it and he can't stop touching the deepest part of the hollow, imagining sweat and come pooling there. He reaches lower, into the crack of Hannibal's ass, sticky wet with lube even near the top, and Hannibal groans and grinds against him. Hannibal's cock is soft as it slides through the mess he left on Will's lower belly, but he seems to be feeling some of the same restlessness Will is, and he sounds as turned on as Will has ever heard him. Will doesn't think he can get hard either, not for a little while at least, but want already snakes low in his belly.
Hannibal is wet with more than lube further down, and Will's come is even slicker as he pushes two fingers into his ass with astonishing ease.
"Does it hurt?" he asks as Hannibal's ass twitches slightly around his fingers, and adds a third, with no resistance. Hannibal whines, a high and vulnerable sound Will couldn't have imagined him capable of until he heard it. It makes his spent cock twitch, makes him wish he were fifteen years younger and could get back inside Hannibal now and fuck him until whining was all he could do, until Will was finally done with him.
Hannibal hasn't answered him, still has his face hidden. Will pushes in deeper and Hannibal's hands claw back to Will's shoulders, digging hard even into the bad one, forgetting to be careful. But he doesn't pull away or tell Will to stop, and Will ignores the small pain.
Though when Will thinks about it, Hannibal has never asked him to stop. "Hannibal," Will tries again. "Do you want me to stop?"
"You would know if I did," Hannibal finally answers, his voice startlingly deep after the high sounds he'd been making, like he's been blowing Will for an hour and that, too, sends arousal fizzing down a taut line from where Hannibal's breath gusts against his neck to his cock.
"Can I fuck you again?" Will asks, impulsively and possibly prematurely. He might not be able to for a while yet, but he wants it, even more after asking.
"You may do whatever you want with me, Will," Hannibal says, now calmly and clearly. The words lie as both a cold stone in his stomach and something warm and writhing in his gut. He stills his fingers.
"That's a lot of... trust." Will's voice is barely audible even in his own head, but he knows Hannibal will hear him. "What if I wanted to hurt you?"
"After letting you kill me, there's little enough you could do that I'd object to."
"But what if it was something that could kill you?" Will almost doesn't want to hear the answer. He thinks he know what it will be.
Hannibal breathes out a short laugh and pushes back on Will's hand. It nearly dislodges Will's fingers and he thrusts them back in, hard, and Hannibal sighs like it's exactly what he wanted to happen. It probably is. "You don't want to kill me, Will. You don't even want to hurt me." He pauses. "Very much."
The truth of it makes Will smile tremulously at nothing, embarrassed yet pleased at being known. Yet there was something else there, a plaintiveness he's not sure Hannibal even realizes he's revealed. He rubs his cheek along Hannibal's, their stubble catching together slightly painfully. They're too close together to look each other in the eye. "Do you wish I did? You want me to hurt you?" He hooks his fingers slightly upward and tugs, stretching Hannibal's rim until the breath is punched out of him and he seems to try to lift himself with Will's movement.
"Stay still," Will says and shivers when Hannibal immediately complies. Will's balls begin to ache dully and his cock twitches again. It might not be such a long wait after all. He pulls upward for a moment more, savors the tension in Hannibal's body, then lets up the pressure until Hannibal relaxes and nuzzles him into a kiss, gentle but deep and wet.
It's still new, the urge to get as deeply inside Hannibal as Hannibal has gotten into him, less destructively perhaps but just as uncomfortably intimate. Plunging his tongue past Hannibal's teeth and as far into his mouth as he can go, clumsy and groping as a teenager, feels like something that's changing them just as irrevocably as the knife that once plunged into Will's gut. The sounds Hannibal makes when they kiss like this are a little less controlled and a little more desperate every time.
It goes on for a long time, Hannibal opening his mouth to Will, almost sucking him in and only rarely pushing back, until Hannibal's weight on Will becomes a little too oppressive and he can't catch his breath. When Hannibal pulls his mouth away from Will's and moves on to lick at the scar on Will's right cheek, Will quickly says, "Knees and elbows," and hardly has to nudge Hannibal to the side before he's climbing off and kneeling, resting his face against his forearms and watching Will watch him, panting. Hannibal is sweating and intensely red-faced, flushed all the way down to his shoulders and blotchy pink under his tan even further down. He arches his ass up, his body begging eloquently. This, too, is new, and more than a little thrilling.
"Will."
His name and an impatient narrowing of the eyes gets Will up faster than he thought he had the energy for, kneeling behind Hannibal and just—looking, for a moment. There's still a little come leaking from Hannibal's hole and it makes Will almost queasy with a fierce possessiveness and the desire for something he's not quite ready to think about.
So he rubs it into Hannibal's perineum with his thumb and follows the slippery trail back up to its source, circling his thumb over Hannibal's opening just lightly enough to push slightly in. Will expected it to look used, swollen, open, something, but it's only a little more deeply pink than usual. Yet when he shifts his hand, three and then four fingers enter him so easily. Will gets a sympathetic echo of sensation in his dick. He's still not quite hard enough to fuck, but close enough for it to feel good when he arches up to rub the head along the path his fingers had just followed to where he's fingering Hannibal open again.
Not that he needs it. Will sits back on his heels and strokes himself, gaze locked on his fingers and Hannibal's ass stretched around them.
But getting up must have shifted something, because the ache in his balls is suddenly joined by a distinct one in his bladder, not quite urgent but not easily ignored.
Leaving right now even for a minute seems impossible, but he should. He really should, it's already distracting him. He's about to get off the bed with a quick be right back when a thought occurs to him and hits him so hard he has to close his eyes against it. What if—if he—
"Hannibal," he says shakily, takes his fingers out and uses his thumb to rub and push his cockhead up against Hannibal's opening, even though he's still too soft to get in. He can see it, can almost feel it already. He wants to. "Hannibal, I have to—can I—"
He can't even get the words out, but Hannibal is moaning anything, anything, and pushing back like he's trying to help Will inside.
The need to urinate is growing stronger, and somewhat distressingly thinking about it is turning Will on more. He's panting like he's already fucking, and when he finally gets the words out they come in short bursts. "I have to piss. I'm going to—go on you"—Hannibal's breath goes even more ragged and Will's imagination take him to even wilder places—"and inside you if I can."
"Then do it, now, please," Will hears faintly, his vision nearly tunneling on where he's holding his cock, still pressed slightly against Hannibal's hole. If he hadn't just come he would be too hard to do it. As it is, he almost can't, has to bear down hard, it's okay, he said anything, it's okay pushing every other thought out of his head before he can finally let go.
He swears he can feel the stream flowing hot inside his cock in the moment before it bursts from him in a rush of relief and disbelief, splashing off of Hannibal's ass, flowing up and down his crack and washing away all visible trace of Will's come. He aims at Hannibal's hole, down to his balls and back up again, pressing close even though the splashback is worse, until Hannibal is wet and dripping everywhere below the waist Will could reach.
Will's own thighs are wet as well, and the sheets underneath them, and he's still pissing, and all he can think about is wanting to mark Hannibal as thoroughly inside as out. He hears Hannibal as if from very far away, unable to discern the words he's using but he knows they must be echoing his own thoughts, Hannibal urging him inside, begging to be fucked.
Hannibal had shifted his weight onto one arm and is jerking himself off, and Will wants to order him to stop, to wait for him, but watching him get off on this is too overwhelmingly arousing to want it to stop, and his cock comes alive with it, thickening in his hand.
His bladder isn't empty, but in seconds he's too hard to keep pissing no matter how much he tries.
And that was the goal, wasn't it? He grabs Hannibal by the hip, and barely has to aim to get his cock pointed right at Hannibal's soaked asshole and shoves in, in, in, finally, the increased friction from the washed-away lube giving way to hot, plush slipperiness inside him.
He pulls out almost all the way, watching Hannibal's rim seem to cling to him, before snapping his hips forward. Their wet skin slaps together even more loudly than usual.
Will starts to lose his grip on Hannibal's hips, sweat and piss slicking everywhere they're touching. He digs his fingernails in hard and starts fucking in earnest, and Hannibal clenches tight around his cock and starts babbling in what must be Lithuanian, interrupted with heavy groans and gulps for air. Will has held Hannibal's life in his hands but hasn't ever felt this powerful.
His hands slip again, and he gives up trying to hold himself up, pushing in deep as he lets himself drop on top of Hannibal, right arm around his waist and and left holding his shoulders, urging Hannibal's body back to meet Will's driving thrusts.
Hannibal grits out more words, and even barely able to discern the language Will can tell they're barely coherent. They urge Will on.
"Tell me what you're saying," Will pants against the back of Hannibal's neck, wishing he had a free hand to put in Hannibal's hair and pull, "in English. What don't you want me to know."
"Nothing, Will. I want you to know everything. I said, I'll take all this and more," Hannibal groans, his voice like skin skidding on gravel. "I said you've marked me as your property and can use me as you will. That you've made me into a mare in heat."
The last doesn't even make sense yet hits Will so hard he can't stop shuddering, setting his teeth into Hannibal's shoulder and shoving into him as hard and deep as he can. He comes so hard he thinks he could actually die from it. Hannibal moans so loudly Will feels it in his teeth, and his ass clamps down on Will's cock like it only does when Hannibal is coming.
Will starts to soften, more spent than he can ever remember being, but the sudden fluttering tightness pulls another dizzying rush of pleasure out of him and he knows there's something more he has to do. He gives one last thrust that makes them both cry out and pushes just hard enough to flood Hannibal with the last of his piss, each short spurt feeling almost like he's coming again, and biting harder as Hannibal practically sobs out the tail end of his own climax.
Hannibal holds them up for another moment, then they collapse together. Will is rapidly becoming aware of a cold clamminess on his legs, and the unfamiliar wetness between them is suddenly a lot less alluring, though the disquieting sense of possession remains. He doesn't want to imagine how much more uncomfortable it must be in Hannibal's position, yet he shows no signs of wanting Will off of him.
Will breaks the spell finally, rolling to the side of the bed where it's still dry, and pulls Hannibal over with him before he becomes too tired to move. Will is distantly aware that he should feel disgusting, or disgusted, but so much of his mind is quiet for the first time in so long that he lets himself sink into it, barely aware of their surroundings until Hannibal turns himself over in Will's arms and catches his eye.
He suddenly feels the damp and embarrassment encroaching. "Did I just ruin the bed?"
"The bed? No." Hannibal's grin is lazy and even more self-satisfied than usual as he rests his head on Will's upper arm. "There's a waterproof pad on the mattress. Though we should clean up very soon."
"Were you… planning this, somehow?" This whole—thing—wasn't something he imagined Hannibal wanting. But then he hadn't wanted it himself until it happened.
"I confess, I imagined it would be blood." The grin is gone, replaced by a penetrating stare, and Will can't look away from Hannibal's eyes, as bottomless in their voracious love and need and greed as Will has ever seen them.
It's intoxicating until it's overwhelming, and when he can't bear to see any more he tugs Hannibal closer, until he can look away without it being a rejection, Hannibal's face tucked once again in the crook of his neck. His voice nearly breaks as he thinks about how much blood it would take to soak the sheets like this, how sure he is that Hannibal did not imagine it would be Will's. "You'd really allow me anything, wouldn't you." It isn't a question. "Except to leave you."
They're so tightly entwined Will can feel Hannibal's smile on his skin. Will blinks, and tears he hadn't realized he had left to give slide hot over the bridge of his nose and temple and into the pillowcase. Will tightens his arms, puts his nose in Hannibal's hair and breathes in clean sweat and shampoo. He tries not to let his breathing hitch.
In a moment he'll get up and walk to the bathroom, mindful not to drip, and leave Hannibal to clean up the mess Will has made. He wonders if Hannibal will notice the pillowcase is damp.