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Will’s biting into his lip too hard, he can see the skin breaking. Tiny, insignificant drops of blood stain the white porcelain of his bathroom sink and he can’t look away. Even when he shuts his eyes, his wrists burning as they rub against their bonds and each other, his bones straining under his skin.
Will’s naked of all but his shirt, his knees knocking into the cabinet below him while Dr. Lecter, Hannibal, stands at his back. Hannibal’s fingers trace lightly over his flesh, from his thighs up, cloyingly gentle and all too dangerous. Will wants to scream at him, get him as far away as possible, but the threat hiding in the way Hannibal’s hands rest on his throat and on his hip keeps him from it.
Hannibal slides the fingers of the hand on Will’s throat into his hair and pulls, forcing Will’s head up and his eyes to see the mirror. Will struggles to turn his eyes away, but Hannibal’s fingers tighten painfully when he breaks their contact. Will’s heart leaps into his throat and he can’t, he can’t, those eyes boring into him like beetles.
“Will, we’ll have to train you, I see. Eye contact is necessary for certain types of social interaction, after all,” Hannibal says against the skin behind Will’s ear, voice warm and barely louder than a whisper. The hand not in Will’s hair slides to his cock and Will squeaks. A mouse caught in a trap. Hannibal strokes him slowly, his hand too dry for it to be wholly pleasurable, and Will arches away from it.
There’s lube on the counter (it’s not his), and Will can see it out of the corner of his eye so he knows that Hannibal’s refraining from it out of pure sadism. Will wonders where this will go, where it will end, but he’s pulled from that as his eyes drift and Hannibal’s hand flexes tight in his hair again.
Will’s stuck staring at himself, cheeks flushed deep and lip still bleeding sluggishly, coloring his lips redder than usual like some sort of twisted lipstick. Hannibal locks gazes with Will and pulls his hand up from Will’s cock to rub across his lip, painting his chin like the corpses he sees in his dreams.
“You told me, Will, that eyes are too distracting,” Hannibal continues into Will’s hair, his fingers dragging the last of Will’s blood down his chest. Will shivers and stares, petrified of where this was going. For once in his life, he was lost, adrift in the sea that was Hannibal Lecter without so much as a child’s swim wings let alone a full life boat.
"I told you how that was telling, and then you stormed off. Do you remember?" Will doesn't know if he wants an answer, but doesn't have the chance to decide before a groan is ripped from him in its place. Hannibal's hand if back where it was originally, fingers just too rough. Will's eyes are locked on Hannibal's now, and even though Will knows that's exactly what Hannibal wants, he can't break it.
Hannibal takes his hands from Will, pushing his hips into Will's ass to keep him in place as he reaches for the lube. Will's dick rubs painfully against sharp wood. "Think of this as a type of aversion therapy. You understand the logic in that, correct?" Hannibal asks as he slicks two fingers, clinically and in plain view. Will sucks in a breath, his teeth moving to worry at his lip again, but stopping when it stings. His fingers scrabble against the nylon around his wrists.
"Keep your eyes on me, Will, look at me." Hannibal's voice is calm, yet edged in steel, demanding WIll to cooperate, even though his body tells him to run. That voice promises violence if he doesn't do as told. Hannibal drags his thumb across Will's thigh until his oiled fingers reach his ass, spreading him gently. Hannibal's fingers ghost around his hole, teasing, like this is some playful romp.
Will's had sex maybe twice in his whole life, both a relative failure and both with women. It hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about others, about men, more recently Dr. Lecter himself, oddly, but this is so far from what he wanted. One of Hannibal's fingers breach him quickly, not close enough to gentle for this to be okay, and Will hisses through his teeth. His hands slip on the sink rim, smearing the drying blood.
Hannibal's dark brown eyes are steady, deep and swallowing, like the man himself, and Will can't catch his breath as Hannibal moves his finger inside Will, adding the second too fast for his muscles to accumulate. The burn shouldn't be pleasurable, isn't pleasurable, but though Will's half-had dick has softened, his erection hasn't flagged completely.
It's when Hannibal moves his fingers pointedly, rubbing ruthlessly over a spot inside him that Will looses their eye contact, gasping as his eyes roll to the ceiling. The hand that had returned to his hair moves quickly to his throat, Hannibal's nails digging into his skin.
"Ah ah, we have to work with you under duress as well, don't you think Will? Prepare you, so to speak." Hannibal murmurs, pushing his body further into Will's, his cock nudging his own fingers through his expensive trousers. Hannibal slips in a third, and this one burns more as it's dry, the lube only doing so much. Will struggles to keep his eyes on Hannibal's, but despite the fear and the pain, he's trapped again.
"You learn so quickly, don't you. Its good to not be stuck so far inside your own head." But Will wants to be right now, wants to be anywhere but here, even as he hardens fully, even as his knees tremble. When Hannibal removes his fingers, he whines against his own will, his eyes heavy lidded and enraptured. Hannibal doesn't have a hair out of place while Will's falling apart, shattering with Hannibal's every movement.
Hannibal's quick to unzip himself, his cock warm against Will's chilled skin even as he grabs the lube again and coats himself with it. "There are merits to extended contact, don't you agree Will?" Hannibal says, lining himself up and nudging softly at Will's hole. "Despite whatever ailments one may possess, there's often no shielding emotions and true feelings from escaping the eyes. Take, for example, you." Hannibal punctuates the last word by entering Will, rough and without enough time for him to adjust. Will lets out a whimper that’s closer to a scream and Hannibal bites at the juncture between Will's neck and shoulder, never looking away.
Hannibal's hand tightens on his throat and he stills, his other squeezing Will's hip in a way that belies his calm facade. Hannibal is hungry for this and all Will can do is bend to him. Will can feel the tears welling and he tries to hold them back, but Hannibal’s having none of that. He moves, once, a smooth in and out that makes Will gasp.
“Your eyes are so expressive,” Hannibal whispers, his lips softer against Will’s neck than his words gave them any right to be. He thrusts, shallowly, and speaks again. “Perhaps, you turn from others not only for your own piece of mind, but also to inhibit others from seeing into places you try so desperately to keep hidden. You don’t want Jack or Alana looking in and seeing the darkness you hide, do you Will?”
Will pants into the space between him and the mirror, his eyes stinging and his cock red in his reflection. Hannibal knows how deep Will hides, and it’s honestly no surprise. Hannibal truly saw him the day they first met, and Will’s been lost since.
Hannibal moves, a little deeper, a little rougher, and it hurts but it also doesn’t, Will’s attraction to Hannibal defying him and making him like this, making him want this, despite his distaste at himself. The hand on his hip slips lightly down to his cock and jerks him slower than Hannibal’s thrusts, the dissonance in tempo making Will shudder.
“I wonder how you’d act if they could see you like this, though. You’d look away, wouldn’t you, common defensive movement.” Hannibal speeds up, his breath ruffling Will’s hair just so. “But I’d make you look, Will. That’s the point of this exercise after all.”
Hannibal’s pace quickens and Will’s knees finally give out, but Hannibal is prepared for this, not to mention is deceptively strong. Hannibal holds will up over the sink, Will pushing down on the porcelain with his bound hands to keep from vaulting into the mirror. Hannibal rubs across that spot inside him on every other thrust and Will’s biting his lip again, ignoring the pain of it. He can feel his traitorous body tremble, all his tension coiling deep in his abdomen. His eyes are wet again and Hannibal’s smiling, nosing at his ear.
“Keep looking, Will.” Hannibal whispers, rubbing the slit of Will’s cock at the same time he says Will’s name, and Will can’t hold it off anymore. Will comes in Hannibal’s hand, Hannibal’s eyes staring through his own.
It’s a miracle his hands don’t slip.
Hannibal finally looks away, thrusting once, twice, three more times before he freezes, coming deep inside Will. Will shivers, overstimulated, exhausted, and increasingly uncomfortable. Hannibal pulls out, cleans himself with a hand towel, and tucks himself back into his pants with one hand. will can feel Hannibal’s cum dripping sickly down his thighs even as Hannibal kisses the back of his neck.
Will slips to the floor, his legs like jelly and his arms lethargic from the loss of circulation. Hannibal crouches, still impeccably dressed, and gently caresses Will’s jaw until he can get a grip on his chin. Hannibal forces Will’s hazel eyes back to his own.
“I believe that was a beneficial first lesson.” And Hannibal kisses him.