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Will sits down heavily across Hannibal’s lap, letting out a long-suffering sigh as the busy day finally comes to a close. The older man adjusts himself so that he can continue to read his book, wrapping one arm around his lover to accommodate him.
“Today was a fucking riot,” Will grouses.
“Is that so, dear?” Hannibal continues to read, feigning disinterest.
He’s missed Will terribly all day, but he is not about to let him know just how much (not yet, at any rate), and so he continues the facade of reading, opting to stroke his hand under the man’s shirt idly as if the motion hid no ulterior motive. Will very nearly purrs as his body settles onto his husband, and he snakes an arm behind the bigger man’s neck and nuzzles up under his chin.
“Sometimes I wish I could just lay on you all day,” Will confesses. “More comfy and much less riot.”
“But not less fucking?” the accented voice takes on a teasing tone, but Hannibal remains studiously focused on his book, licking a finger and flipping to the next page.
“I would hope not!” tone almost indignant, Will moves to straddle Hannibal properly, legs curling on either side of the man’s hips.
They laugh together, and Hannibal finally sets his book aside to ruck up Will’s shirt and spread his large hand upon the other’s chest. The younger man’s pectorals are sparsely haired and so smooth, thin velvet encasing the delicate organs beneath flesh and bone. He nudges his thumb across the well-favored patch of skin over Will’s heart and strokes a lazy circle there.
“Likewise,” he whispers, looking into steel-blue eyes that darken just slightly.
Will smiles brightly, one hand stroking into Hannibal’s hair, feeling the silken texture of the locks and pulling them gently between his fingers. He takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in messing up the tidy strands, taking any opportunity he can to ruffle his hands through them. Resigned, Hannibal allows the action now as he drinks in the sight of his husband sprawled in his lap, cheeks turning pink as long fingers press more firmly along his chest, kneading the hard muscle before roving downwards. Hannibal’s other hand works at removing the shirt entirely, and, after a token amount of resistance that earns him a low growl, Will relinquishes his hold on his husband’s hair to lift his arms obediently.
“Away with that,” Hannibal chides as he tosses the offending article of clothing aside.
“Eager, are we?” Will teases as he enfolds Hannibal into an embrace, pulling himself closer so that he can nuzzle more effectively into the warm skin of his lover’s throat.
“Hush, you, or I’ll draw you over my knee,” growls Hannibal.
It is in jest, though, and he is quick to nose into downy brown curls, inhaling his husband’s scent and making a quiet and contented sound in his chest. He wraps both of his arms tightly around Will’s body, tracing the skin along the other’s spine with tickling pressure, and chuckles when the smaller man’s back arches in response and a giggle is heard. His nostrils are flooded with sweat and spice and exhaustion from a long day at work, and he revels at how soft his husband is, all over and exceptionally so, a constant distraction that Hannibal is more than happy to indulge.
“I missed you,” Will whispers.
Hannibal closes his eyes as tiny kisses are speckled along his shoulder and throat and ear, the younger man’s nose rubbing affectionately along his skin as his lips dally in languid patterns. Sighing, he tightens his grip around the beautiful creature in his lap and then he lets go of the day’s build-up of stress, the bundle of energy that has twisted and compounded the longer he was away from Will; it doesn’t matter if it is work or a trip to the market or a stroll with the dogs, Hannibal misses him terribly regardless the reason or length they are separated. It’s almost with embarrassment that he fights the urge to pounce on Will the second he arrives home each time.
“Likewise,” he repeats fondly.
Will is more than comfortable slotted there atop his husband, perhaps even enough to fall asleep, and as if echoing that, he finds himself yawning audibly. He pulls his body into a stretch and moans quietly as he presses flush against the other man, the action equal parts incidental and intentional, and more than that, entirely coy. In response, Hannibal leans back into the cushion of the couch, spreads his long legs just enough to cause Will’s own to open, and grips brown curls firmly to pull his lover’s head back.
“Are you quite comfortable, pup?” he questions, and Will’s eyes meet his, complacent but glittering mischievously at the endearment.
“Very. I think you’re officially my favorite piece of furniture.”
Hannibal smirks, narrowing his own maroon eyes as he takes in the gorgeous face so near his own, scars and all. He brings his other hand up to bracket it along a stubbled cheek, pokes his thumb into the corner of red lips drawn up in a smile, and then tugs Will closer. Their mouths meet in a chaste kiss, and Hannibal draws back to rake his gaze over the familiar features again -still overcome with how lucky he is to have this man in his life, even after all of this time- before he licks his tongue along the seam of Will’s lips to seek entrance. He is rewarded it without question as the smaller man veritably melts into him, his own tongue dipping out to lave around the thumb that hooks gently within. They both breathe out of their noses, and that is the only sound for a time other than the wet ones coming from the meeting of their mouths, this kiss intimate and more persistent than the first. The need for air is the only thing that deters them from devouring each other entirely, and so they draw back to pant lightly into each other’s faces.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Will says softly. “I must be the luckiest motherfucker on this dastardly planet.”
“Such language, Will. I’m certain that I’ve taught you better than that.”
Grinning, Will stretches again, preening under his husband’s gaze, before he sneaks his arms securely back around a strong neck. Simultaneously, he uses the action as an excuse to thrust his lower body lazily into Hannibal’s stomach, not at all subtle about showing the older man just how beautiful he finds him to be. A rumbling growl sounds from Hannibal’s chest as he feels the warmth between his lover’s legs, the hardening line of Will’s cock insistent even through several layers of clothing.
“Are you seeking punishment now?” he asks, but rather than wait for a response he nudges his thumb into Will’s mouth deeper, pleased when pink lips close around the digit without preamble.
He pulls his hand away and replaces it with his mouth again, pushes his tongue in deep and firm to ravish his husband’s mouth, and when Will’s body moves reflexively he holds him tight and still as he conquers the damp depths. He only draws away when Will lets out a plaintive sound, slighter body squirming in Hannibal’s lap tantalizingly. With a brief shift of their bodies, he resolutely grabs two handfuls of Will’s pert ass to pull him up and close so that he can latch his mouth onto the other’s shoulder.
“Ah- Hannibal,” Will’s voice is pitched an octave higher as he is jostled, but his shocked complaint peters off into a moan as large hands knead his asscheeks determinedly.
“Yes, my love?”
Will’s hands come to rest on Hannibal’s broad shoulders as he balances himself, and he uses the leverage to thrust slowly against the other man’s midriff. They are both quiet, breath heavy, and Will’s face and neck redden prettily as Hannibal continues his ministrations, spreading and squeezing supple asscheeks through his pants.
“More?” Will pleads, and he laughs a moment later at how desperate he sounds to his own ears.
The entire day he has been unable to think of anything other than the man he sits astride. He’d wanted nothing more than to cut his errands short after barely having left, but he recognized that being quite so attached might not be healthy. He has an idea that the feeling is mutual, but it is never something that they both acknowledge in words. Instead, they did it this way, in touches and closeness, in panted exhalations and moans and seeking kisses, fingers stroking along tanned and ruddy skin respectively. Hannibal growls into Will’s neck, moves with a speed and strength unmatched, and Will’s breath gusts out of him as he is tossed onto the couch, unseated but not about to complain as his pants and boxers are removed in a fluid motion. He tosses his head back onto the cushion beneath him and lets out a pleased growl of his own as his husband settles between his thighs, arms coming to rest on either side of the smaller man as he continues the motions that Will began, thrusting his clothed erection against the other man’s now naked one.
“Hannibal,” Will’s moan is louder this time, pitching off into a whine as a particularly rough movement jolts both of their bodies together, and he wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist to trap him close. “More, please.”
“More what, love?” Hannibal looks down at Will’s blush-red face and at his neck and chest blooming into color as well, and he feels his lover’s cock pressing along his own behind the layers of expensive cotton.
“You know what,” the smaller man squirms and crosses his ankles behind his husband, and while Hannibal stops to regard him, Will continues to thrust upwards to seek friction, biting his lower lip frustration as it proves to be inadequate very quickly.
“I want you to say it.”
Will’s lips pulled into a smile, expecting the command. It is no less effective, however, and Hannibal’s cultured accent caresses him as if it were a physical thing, as if the man’s voice alone can tear him apart in all the best ways imaginable. Oftentimes it has, if Will were honest with himself, and it doesn’t matter how many times he finds himself here or in their bed or on any surface within reach, each time they are together like this it is a new experience entirely. New but familiar and never is it anything but amazing. Will tangles his fingers into Hannibal’s shirt and guides him down into an open-mouthed kiss, clinging to the powerful man as if he were a lifeline.
“Fuck me, Hannibal,” he murmurs once they’ve drawn back to breath each other’s air, his voice stirring the strands of hair that have fallen into Hannibal’s face.
Hannibal’s eyes narrow and his lips pull into a grin that shows his sharp teeth, and as much as he wants to draw this out and tease his husband into a writhing mass of limbs and moans and helplessness, he finds himself far too invested in his own pleasure. His cock is heavy between his legs and solid behind his slacks, and he reaches between them to draw it out of its cotton prison to palm the heated flesh briefly, before he envelopes his long fingers around it and Will’s own length. Hannibal continues to rock his body into Will’s as he begins to jerk them both off with sure and measured movements.
“Nnngh, Hanniba- please,” Will pushes Hannibal’s torso away from him and then pulls him back to nose desperately along his throat to sprinkle beseeching kisses against hot flesh.
“More?” Hannibal questions with a smirk. “You greedy whore.”
“Yes,” the smaller man agrees wholeheartedly.
Will’s torso returns to the cushion beneath him with a moan, and his arms fall away from clinging to his husband, legs remaining steady around Hannibal’s waist and moving only to accommodate the other when the man sits back on his heels. The hand stroking them both stops, squeezing the sensitive heads of their cocks together firmly before Hannibal pulls away to hook both arms under Will’s knees. The younger man barely manages to open his mouth when he finds his legs pulled apart and hauled up over strong shoulders, his entire body dragged as if he were weightless and bent until Hannibal can securely hold his lower body in position. The pose is at once awkward and entirely debauched, and Will looks up along his own body as Hannibal nuzzles behind his balls and breathes damply into his vulnerable entrance.
“More,” Will demands shakily.
The older man chuckles but obliges, and Will’s toes curl when Hannibal kisses his hole, full lips sucking against the furled muscle almost reverently. It is a gentle action, and so totally filthy, and the younger man’s thighs strain as his legs twitch uselessly in the air. He grabs his own hair and in another second his hands dance along what he can reach of Hannibal while the man’s tongue dips into his body. There is no teasing or drawing out the anticipation like the older man was wont to do most times, no; instead, Hannibal fucks his tongue deep inside of Will’s body, breeching him with a rumbling growl that is felt as well as heard, and he tightens his grip around the spasming body that he services hungrily.
The younger man lets out a litany of expletives and sighing breaths, moans and complaints that aren’t for a second serious, and he struggles lazily in his husband’s grip just to remind himself how completely he is held in place. Hannibal is so incredibly strong that he often feels as if he were a doll that could be picked up and placed anywhere at the man’s fancy, and in this situation it makes Will’s cock twitch, precome glistening at the slit and oozing down his belly. Hannibal continues to lick him open, tongue questing ever deeper, and he draws back only to spit lewdly across the loosening hole before sucking another kiss there, inhaling deeply of the most intimate scent of his husband. He noses along his perineum and then pulls away entirely.
Will has no time to complain as he is lifted and tossed effortlessly, managing only to get an undignified squeak out before he ends up face down on the couch. Hannibal makes quick work of his shirt and pants and socks before he climbs back onto the couch to spread Will’s asscheeks wide once more, returning his mouth to the quivering hole and tongue-fucking into him hard. The position awards him with much more leeway, and Will is absolutely helpless beneath him as he grabs lean hips and holds him in place tightly, the air filled with obscene smacking sounds and the other’s wailing voice. There is no way Will can contain himself anymore, and he claws into the couch as his husband sucks and licks him loose and open. He rolls his hips in sharp little jolts as he begs for more, more, always more.
“Please,” Will heaves into the cushion. “Hannibal, please. Fuck me, now.”
So Hannibal does. He pulls away and crawls up his husband’s smaller body and guides his cock between Will’s asscheeks, sinks into him in a single jarring thrust that pushes Will’s body into the cushion deeper. He sets a brutal, almost punishing pace as he leans over his lover and fists his hand into sweat-damp curls. Will’s voice is hitching in a constant whine as his body moves upward with each thrust, until Hannibal growls and grasps his shoulder hard enough to bruise, holds him in place as he fucks the younger man like he has been demanded and begged to. Fucks him and doesn’t stop even when Will’s voice raises in a crescendo as he reaches his climax. When Hannibal comes, he does so while seated as deep as he can manage, his spend painting the tight and wet insides that contract around him. His mouth finds Will’s neck and he presses the smaller man so firmly into the couch that he can barely breath.
Afterwards, chest heaving and arms planted on either side of his husband, Hannibal smirks tiredly while he watches Will finally come up for air and cast him a glare over his shoulder.
“Rude,” the well-fucked man grouses.
Hannibal groans when he slips out the still clenching hole, cock overly sensitive and still hard. He sprawls backwards to land at the other end of the couch and watches Will get to his knees, smirking when the younger man trembles slightly. Uncaring, Will chases his husband and flops on top of him to lay there and nose into silver chest hair. He nuzzles the soft curls as he closes his eyes and makes a contented sound at his human-pillow.
“Maybe a little riot,” he whispers sleepily. “But most definitely a lot of fucking.”