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The evening in and of itself was as extraordinary, yet unremarkable, as almost every other since they had arrived in Havana and begun anew.
In the tidy, cozy, and snug confines of a firelit study in a cheap, plain, but decent neighborhood’s apartment, typical save for one feature that had brought them here magnetically, they were finally free.
This was achieved by surrendering to the immutable fact of being forever bound together. This heady, transformative, love-and-life-affirming liberation was accomplished by walling themselves in together – in lifestyle, accommodation, proximity, in the entire dismissal and forgetting of anyone outside the boundaries of their merged memory palaces.
Hannibal had never expected delirious joy to result from deliberate mundanity; Will had never allowed his own body to feel acceptable, much less comfortable, or his own, a vessel of deserved pleasure, unmarred by the shame of his twisted mind. But he had no need now for self-recrimination, nor even to forgive himself. Why should he resist feeling good in his own skin? Hannibal was in there, sewn by fate, and Will was inside Hannibal too, and all around him.
Will couldn’t reject the same person for whom Hannibal poured out such wordless adoration with his every gesture, look and choice. Hannibal’s actions during these recent days had spoken much louder than every manipulative and lying word of his own former, abandoned self. Hannibal exalted and glorified and breathed only for Will. And Will was happiness, happiness in human form and nothing else.
It defied belief, but Will knew – there was more. More happiness right there on the table which they could take, keep and enjoy together. He deserved it and Hannibal deserved it. It was theirs.
Yes, he was worthy. He was fully present with Hannibal and did not have one single regret. To hate or avoid himself finally seemed more sin even than folly. He and Hannibal, now that they were one, made sense of chaos, beautiful tapestries of light, life and blood woven from ugly discordance.
Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. They were biblical. They were the devil. Each other was home, pure and simple.
No wonder so many evenings found them in their facing, worn but pleasant easy chairs by the fireplace. They did not light the fireplace for warmth, not in the sultry weather in this climate of new life, but out of a need to feel the past in the present and send the present out like an emissary of reminding purpose and worth to the future, whatever pain and calamity it might contain. It would all have been worth it.
Will hoped that the former him felt how happy they were now, could somehow sense it to help him get through the terrible storms he must still face before now.
That Will who had stood beside the Hannibal of the old life, in the library of Hannibal’s Baltimore office, before the kitchen and before Florence, before prison, absence, the Dragon and the fall and the ocean and now, and right after Hannibal showed him the drawing he had made of them as Achilles and Patroclus, that Will Graham, desperately trapped between good and evil and longing for Hannibal with love that clawed at him and pulled him apart.
Can you feel it? Will tried to send the message back and forth in time, like a wave that frolicked to and fro in a blissful little tossing breeze. You will always have this place. That means that everything you’ve done to and for each other is for this place and that nothing can be in vain or regretted. No one can ever tear you and he apart because here and now and this is all that ever mattered, or ever will. It’s the only meaning in the whole universe. Just hold on. Now is coming. You can always go back to now and it will be waiting for you in an everlasting embrace.
Hannibal had chosen this apartment out of many others that were not much different, only because of the unusual presence of a fireplace in this room which had come pre-furnished by the former occupants with two wooden, rickety bookcases and two leather armchairs. It was perfect. It was all they needed.
How strange the plume of smoke unfurling from the lone chimney must look from outside. The thought crossed Will’s mind as he closed his book, pausing with his thumb propping the place he’d left off on. The even stranger fact of the matter was that he and Hannibal kept the apartment deliberately just a little too cold at night with air conditioning whose quality was much too high for the plain and drab place. This necessitated the lighting of a fire in the evenings so that it flickered between them as they each cradled a book and were cradled in each other’s presence.
As Will absent-mindedly stroked his finger down the page, he entertained a a momentary flashback to the image of the Ripper’s victim with his tongue in the Bible. The picture of violence, smirking mockery and belligerent defiance of god’s authority tasted like lust to Will now. Raw desire. Need. It had always been inside him, for the Ripper, for Hannibal. And now, he could do something about it.
“What is it?” Hannibal asked with a tender smile that confirmed Will in his intentions.
The intent amber eyes contained such admiring devotion, flecked with a hint of concern. He and Will rarely spoke anymore, as it was hardly necessary, but they conversed sometimes just to hear the other’s voice, bespoke velvet stroking their spines.
“Are you happy, Hannibal? Here, with me?” Will gave him a humorless and delighted half-smile, bashful and loving.
Hannibal’s eyes shone with emotion. Quiet passion, fathomless depths of it, deeper than measurement and comprehension.
“Of course I am,” he answered immediately, with complete certainty. “You’re right here. What else could I ask for?”
“Maybe I think you deserve a lot more than mere happiness.” Will set the book aside, heart ascending and pounding as he knew what he would do next with a clean decisiveness that would have floored his former self, his lonely self.
Will crossed the small, unacceptably immense space between their chairs.
And Hannibal’s arms reached for him, hands outstretched towards his waist even before Will moved to climb into his lap and straddle him, sitting face to face. They had not touched intimately since the clifftop, but still, Hannibal knew. And with gentle firmness, he guided Will into position. They fit together exquisitely, with warmth and arousal. And they looked into each other’s eyes without fear.
“Is that an indictment?” Hannibal asked, his beautiful, deep voice accompanied only by the soft echoing rustle of flames and Will’s aching sigh.
Bending slightly, Will pressed their foreheads together, cupping Hannibal’s nape with both hands as Hannibal’s thumb ran worshipfully over the scar on Will’s cheek. The disfiguring wound on his pretty face, mark of the dragon’s blade, the fully accepted price to love and be brave at last. Hannibal’s knight in shining armor.
“Yes. If you’d like that.” Will sighed again, a bruised sort of needy sound that roused Hannibal to draw his beloved’s face down.
He kissed Will’s forehead scar, slowly, his lips hot and open. They nuzzled their faces, noses bumping, smiles lining up so close, too far.
Hannibal’s breath caught, his hands smoothing down Will’s back, over the fabric of his t-shirt, coming to rest on the small of his back, that beguiling little dip above the tempting curves of Will’s ass.
Will said, “I want to know, if I should touch the lit match of me to the embers of your fire, would you reignite for me?”
Hannibal whispered, “My fire for you has never dwindled. It only grows exponentially, every second since the first I saw you.”
And he nuzzled their noses again, lips grazing Will’s, strong fingers caressing Will’s back, the other hand now tentatively perched on the younger man’s hip.
“I’ve had to learn how to survive you,” Hannibal elaborated. “This, the constant state of burning. Oxygen has long since had nothing to offer me. I only live on your choking, intoxicating vapors, the swirling, skinning heat that is you, for me.”
Will huffed a soft laugh, tears streaming down his face. “Some, some – God.” He gripped Hannibal’s face tightly. “Some people just s-say, ‘I love you,’ you know.”
Will’s voice trembled, undone, and his body, warm and safe in Hannibal’s lap, in his strong and possessive embrace, trembled even more.
Hannibal smiled, then kissed each hot and helpless teardrop, his mouth pressing over smooth skin, scars and beard scruff. He kissed each of Will’s wet, closed eyes, feeling the flutter of long lashes against his lips, as if the butterflies in his stomach lived there, too, as if that was actually where they had come from, and he supposed it must be.
Then, with such care and emphasis that his seriousness could never be doubted, which was extremely important to Hannibal, he murmured, staring up into Will’s eyes, “I love you.”
Will grinned the way he had when their eyes met in the Uffizi gallery.
“In that case,” he moaned, brushing their lips fully together for the first time as an immediate shock of pleasure shot through him, “I want to be engulfed.”
***
Hannibal covered Will’s mouth with his own and explored him with deep, sweeping strokes of his tongue. Both of their lips were flavored with the red wine they had been sipping after dinner, and they kissed until the flavor was licked away, nothing left to savor but the taste of them together.
The heat between them was enough to melt fire and swallow the earth; Will was nothing, it seemed, but a listless pile of begging moans. The weak cries he kept letting out between long kisses had no words or even shape, but they all said “more, please, more,” following the rhythm of their hips and groins beginning to writhe and grind against each other.
“You can’t keep moaning like that, Will,” Hannibal growled, biting Will’s lower lip hard, his eyes dark and staring harder at Will, as he added fervently, “You’re driving me insane. I’m on the verge of losing control with every–”
“Go ahead and lose control,” Will answered shamelessly. His hands were shaking, but they were sure and firm as he grasped the bottom of Hannibal’s soft sweater and tugged it upwards, finally letting it fall to the floor behind the chair. “You may as well.”
He dropped his fingertips onto Hannibal’s chest and began touching him there with reverent erotic worship, cupping and gently squeezing toned muscle, traveling through soft silvery hair, tracing and pinching hard nipples. Hannibal’s wide eyes had been staring at Will in disbelief and excitement as his chest rose and fell quickly, but now his eyes suddenly shut and he groaned low in his throat. Will flushed, proud of himself for giving such pleasure, and about as provoked to continue as he was encouraged.
“Keep going, make me feel it. Your love,” Will added, “Because I can’t stop moaning and if you stop now, I’ll die.”
Hannibal muttered something undoubtedly obscene in the lowest, raunchiest tone Will had ever heard in his life, igniting a thrum of hot and unbearable pleasure that made his cock hard and his stomach awash with tingles. He had no idea what language Hannibal had even used just then, though it certainly wasn’t English, but oh God, oh, fuck!--
Will realized only seconds later that he’d said that last bit aloud, and quite loudly, in fact, resulting in Hannibal kissing him hard and pressing one of Will’s hands to the slamming, rapid beat of his heart. Will breathed deeply of Hannibal’s scent, which was unpretentious aftershave and shampoo from a small, local store and beneath that, musky arousal.
Hannibal’s own hands sank deep into Will’s hair and tugged on curls, raked through the soft locks as his tongue sought Will’s ravenously.
“I’ve never understood how you could possibly be real,” Hannibal told him, and kissed him over and over, and told him, “You’re so perfect.”
Will was dizzy and lost, kissing the most beautiful man in existence and feeling so goddamn beautiful for the first time in his life. He whimpered as Hannibal broke off the latest merciless, but slow and savoring, deep and relentless, drowning kiss and breathed hard against his lips.
“I could kiss you forever,” Hannibal said, dazed, holding Will’s face and leaning in to take his lips again.
When Will opened to him eagerly, Hannibal began thrusting his tongue against Will’s with an unmistakable fucking motion.
Will could feel the huge, rigid bulk of Hannibal’s cock pressing tight to his own and hated both of their trousers as he had never known that one could hate an inanimate article of clothing.
“Promise me,” Will commanded, breathlessly gripping Hannibal’s shoulders and rubbing against his lover’s cock like a confused adolescent, unable to stop himself.
Will’s inexperience with a man and the simple fact of how long it had been since he’d had sex flared up in unquestionable evidence that caused Hannibal to sink a few miles farther into the aforementioned madness.
“I’ll kiss you forever,” Hannibal vowed in a gravely tone, sealing the words with another kiss, passionate, harsh and consuming. He bruised Will’s lips and nibbled cruelly at the place he had bit before until blood blossomed there, and he licked it as if he was starving.
Will nodded, shaking from the sudden pain in his lip, among so many other things, and the words flew from his lips without thought, the way they should: “I love you.”
He guessed it must be obvious from his voice how he’d been loving Hannibal all along in a thousand big and small, life-ruining, destructive and selfish ways and how he wasn’t ever going to fight the feeling again.
Because Hannibal’s own eyes filled with tears and spilled over as he gasped, “Will,” and grabbed onto him so tightly that his fingers dug into Will’s sides, hurting him.
“That’s it,” Will moaned encouragingly, “Like that. I wanna feel you. Every single part of you, tonight, Hannibal, please. I’ll kiss you forever.”
Hannibal crushed Will against him in a suffocating hug and then loosened his hold so he could kiss Will’s neck, the same way he had taken Will’s mouth with dirty, slick, debauched kisses and bites, licking, his big hands now on Will’s ass, groping him until the noises Will couldn’t possibly hold back again brought matters to a head.
“Did we just get married?” Will asked, wonderingly clasping Hannibal’s face above him, lying on the rug where Hannibal had placed him, the fire finally dimming slightly beside them without either noticing or caring.
“Yes,” Hannibal confirmed, and Will grinned, trying to wriggle out of his own shirt with absolutely no elegance whatsoever.
Hannibal grinned wolfishly at him, then assisted him, about a second before his mouth lowered to Will’s bare chest, mouthing wildly at him, licking and suckling his nipples until Will felt so sensitive he thought he must be broken in some new way. There were thousands of ways for Hannibal to shatter him, and Will was learning fast, shuddering and mewling under Hannibal’s body, gracelessly wrapping both thighs around one of Hannibal’s and grinding like a lovesick teenager.
“You are the personification of sin, you wicked, endlessly trying little imp,” Hannibal accused fondly, adoringly, and Will’s only answer was another needy whimper.
“Please,” Will added with a small, roguish pout, and Hannibal rolled his eyes accusingly.
Then he stripped them both of their trousers and underwear, as smooth and dominating as Will was trembling and disintegrating, tugging and opening and needing. Yet every little thing Will did made Hannibal look more desperate, burning hotter than ever.
“Naughty, beautiful angel,” Hannibal said, his voice gritty and his mouth rough again on Will’s neck, sucking a bite mark into a dark bruise, groaning as Will’s nails sank into his skin, scratching the top of his back above the brand scar, deep.
Their cocks slid together, wet with precum, painfully hard. Urgent ecstasy made them moan as Hannibal wrapped a hand around them both with a knowing squeeze. He stroked them and kissed Will’s mouth, until the combination of pleasure from both sensations broke Will completely and he came with a startled gasp, shameless and drunk on joy. His cum was all over Hannibal’s hand, and the older man dipped his head to lick it from his fingers, just before the heat of his mouth enveloped Will’s over-sensitive cock.
It was too soon, and Will lost himself in the shocking jolt of painful rapture that was Hannibal sucking him deep, then licking him, swirling his tongue around the head and repeating the process. Will wasn’t sure he had a soul left in his body at this point, no single iota of his being which Hannibal had not claimed and consumed, ruined beautifully with pleasure, but it hardly mattered, given that he had always belonged to Hannibal, even before he was born, and hundreds of millennia from now.
“Can I,” he blurted, convulsively shivering with agonized pleasure, his fingertips sliding down Hannibal’s sweaty back and through his lover’s damp hair, but Hannibal shook his head.
He raised his face to Will, lips wet and kiss-swollen, grinning. “I’ll never last if you do. The mere image of your mouth on my cock has never failed to make me understand the term, ‘crazy’ in a special new light. There have been nights I’ve laid in bed and come to that fantasy while barely laying a hand on myself, Will.”
Will’s eyes widened and he laughed, “Did you just say ‘cock’?”
Hannibal chuckled huskily and busied himself in kissing the backs of Will’s thighs with sensuous commitment, then lifted the younger man’s legs, placing them, for reasons Will failed to register at first, over his own shoulders.
But of course, despite laughing, Will was also hard again at Hannibal’s erotic confession, and crying because of how desperately Hannibal had always wanted him. “God, I’m pretty sure I could come just from you telling that story, or the way you’re looking at me, the way your voice sounds…” He looked down at Hannibal and let the sunlight of love nearly blind him with its unbearable power.
“Yes, husband?” Hannibal asked with a teasing and utterly serious look. He squeezed Will’s ass cheeks and traced his finger just once over Will’s hole.
“Fuck!” Will bit his lip where Hannibal had bit it, and the pain didn’t even begin to balance out the indescribable pleasure soaring through him from what happened next.
Hannibal ate him out, slowly, insistently and making it clear that despite denying Will the chance to go down on him that night, he was going to take his damn time turning his lover inside out, upside down and outrageously obliterated with unrelenting, merciless ecstasy.
His clever mouth pressed to Will’s hole after relaxing him with happy, moaning licks, savoring kisses and sucking, and the easing of his tongue inside the younger man. Then he pressed his tongue in again and thrust several times, with Will gripping his own hair in both hands, beside himself, then coming again, hips spasming as Hannibal had the nerve to keep going, stopping only when his instincts told him that to go further would be too painful.
Will’s cock hadn’t even gone soft this time after coming; he just stayed hard and shivering, moaning in shocked happiness that teetered over the brink of fear. Too much, too good, too – how could he stand it? It felt – Will didn’t have words for it, only a terrifyingly huge need for more than he could ever have of more.
They’d taken each other’s bodies so far past normal extents of arousal that Hannibal even looked surprised, kissing Will’s face all over and then covering his body with kisses, making Will’s body, which quivered with cold and hot sweat and breathless gasps, feel perfectly warm and held. “Perfect boy, beautiful Will,” Hannibal murmured, pressing their lips together before adding, “Do you want…?” His finger eased about halfway into Will’s wet, slightly relaxed hole, finding the heat and tightness more than he could feel without groaning. “Oh, Will…”
“I want you, yes, fuck me,” Will sighed. He pulled Hannibal down again and with his own feverish insistence, shoved their hot bodies together as tight as they could press, kissing Hannibal’s mouth and boldly feeling him, running his fingers down Hannibal’s broad shoulders and smooth, gorgeous back, over the puckered, doubtlessly painful scar of the Verger brand, loving everything this man had ever been or endured. The worst of Hannibal and the best, tangled together and all Will’s.
“Baby,” Hannibal sighed, and in the absence of planning or lube, he stared into Will’s eyes as the younger man reacted with tender surprise to the term of endearment, a lump in Will’s throat the only thing blocking another weak moan. Because now, Hannibal was spitting into his palm, then stroking his own thick cock so that precum liberally pooled there as well. He used the combined lubrication to ease two fingers into Will, kissing Will’s lips and swallowing another series of cries.
“Baby,” he said again.
And he looked as if he actually understood that it was being with a man for the first time, and the man being Hannibal, but it was also that Will had never been in love like this or known his heart could hold so much. And Will had never guessed that his body could feel this amount of pleasure at the same time.
“It’s alright, just breathe,” Hannibal smiled. “Kiss me.”
“Forever,” Will gasped, and they kissed well beyond the point where common sense dictated they were hurting each other’s bruised, swollen lips and should probably stop, and then they kissed some more as Hannibal went from fucking Will in smooth, solid strokes with two big fingers, to adding a third, expertly finding Will’s prostate and targeting it, knowing damn well–
“Oh my God!” Will wept with pleasure, “The next time we do this, I’m going to make you pay – you son of a – fucking hell, yes, yes, right there, Hannibal, please…!”
“You are enough to make me keep you here for days fucking you with my fingers until you beg for my cock, my darling,” Hannibal panted against his mouth, thrusting harder and enjoying Will’s silent scream of pleasure in response. “Hmm. Delicious boy. Do you think I’m going to tire of you being like this, so completely lost and helpless? You’ll have to be more patient than that, I’m afraid.”
“Patient?” Will said with an angry little laugh that earned him a sweeter kiss on his lips, then more of them on his neck, and he wrapped his arms and legs around Hannibal, holding on tight, whispering, “Love you so much.”
Tears dripped from Hannibal’s eyes onto Will’s face as he replaced his fingers with his cock and pressed in, carefully making this switch in an effort to keep Will stretched and ready, avoiding any extra pain from this bigger penetration.
“Oh, God,” Will whispered, clinging to Hannibal, gritting his teeth as the ache of it seared through him, marking him as Hannibal’s all over again and forever, “Move, please, don’t be too careful with me – dying for you, Hannibal, please…”
“I’ve never once been able to resist you, much less when you say ‘please,’” Hannibal said with his forehead once again pressed to Will’s, tightly this time as his cock slid another few inches deeper.
He was long and thick, a combination that made icy sparks of desperate pained pleasure ignite at the base of Will’s spine and rake up it. If it hadn’t been for how long and indulgently Hannibal had eaten him out and finger-fucked him, Will didn’t think the older man would have gotten all the way in, but as it was, with slow and careful strokes in and out, and while whispering more words of loving comfort in Will’s ear between kisses, Hannibal bottomed out with a low, overwhelmed groan of euphoria.
“Will, oh God.” He just stayed there for a few moments, breathing against Will’s neck, face buried there, and Will held him, kissing his sweaty brow, running fingers through his hair, still a bit shorter than usual from the punishing prison cut that had only made his handsomeness more obnoxiously clear to behold.
“God.” Hannibal addressed Will using this word, synonymous with Will’s own name. “Need you.”
“Already yours,” Will said, using the grip of his crossed ankles at the small of Hannibal’s back to give him a shy, but encouraging push.
Hannibal let out another muttered and jumbled stream of obscenities in what sounded like maybe three or four different languages, then gathered Will up in both of his strong arms, so they were sitting by the fading firelight’s glow, dark orange haloed around their bodies.
Vaguely, Will heard the sound of romantic music and recalled that they had left the radio playing nearby. The volume was low and gentle, but he heard the rising and falling notes, felt every word despite not understanding most of the Spanish lyrics.
“...Cuando se pasa bien, eh-eh
No importa cómo, dónde y cuándo
Lo que importa es con quién
El tiempo se va volando
Cuando se pasa bien, eh-eh
No importa cómo, dónde y cuándo
Lo que importa es con quién…”
Holding Will on top of him by the hips, with Will in his lap and Hannibal so deep in him that they both panted desperately, the older man rolled his hips and guided Will with his hands, up and down on the hard, hot length of him. Every thick, gorgeous inch slid out of Will, nearly all the way, then slammed back in with an audible slap, Hannibal’s balls clapping against Will’s ass, and something about how dirty and hot the feelings were, and the pleasure, and the noises of their bodies fucking and the wanton way they rocked and moaned together made Will’s eyes darken.
He gripped Hannibal’s shoulders tightly and began to ride him, experimentally at first, then harder and with better technique. And Hannibal stared at him, into Will’s soul, his tear-streaked face lost in wonderment.
“So good,” Will moaned, throwing his head back and taking Hannibal the way a zealot swallows the host in mass, and taking him again, again, even though mere mortal worshippers were only supposed to taste and possess such divine perfection once a week, then return to their dull human lives and wait eagerly for the next chance at touching heaven.
Greedily, they broke every law of righteousness and religion, Will riding Hannibal even harder, hitting the perfect spot inside himself, again – again. But this time, instead of letting him come, Hannibal’s powerful hand shot out to his throat and grabbed him there, squeezing hard. Will’s pleasure-blown, black-blue eyes went huge and he felt the rising tumult of ecstasy in his body, the tightening of it in his balls and the thrill of it in his cock suddenly halted, stolen from Hannibal that easily.
“Yes,” Hannibal said with an evil grin, his fang-like teeth looking so cute that Will almost forgave him, even as he gave Will’s neck another hard squeeze. “I’ll decide when. You like that?”
“Yes,” Will rasped, Hannibal having let his throat go without ever really hurting him badly, just introducing him to this dimension of sexual sadism, making Will newly aware that his own masochism was worthy of words like “slut and whore,” which made him turn red and feel fucking…horny and embarrassed, as if they’d barely begin to make love when he knew they had to have been at it for an hour at least.
He thought he’d like to ask Hannibal to call him those words next time, but maybe not this time because he was so overwhelmed. But Hannibal tipped him over and lay atop Will without breaking contact between them, still buried in Will’s tight body, saying in his ear with a tone of sheer depravity, “I want you tell me if you really like the things I do, or if you don’t. And I don’t want you to say yes just to please me.”
“I like you saying if and when I can come,” Will said with breathy insistence, “And I like you asking me to make sure that I like it and want you to keep acting that way. Everything about the way you’re handling me is what I want and need. I love you, Hannibal.”
“Every time you say that,” Hannibal groaned as the words made his cock jump inside the smooth, snug clutch of Will’s body. “You can’t imagine–”
“I can,” Will interrupted, closing his eyes and kissing Hannibal’s beautiful, chiseled face, and letting the slight friction of the older man’s stubble pleasure his eager lips. “Don’t you know how goddamn hot I was for you, all those times, the – Jesus. The therapy sessions. The times we were hurting and fucking with each other, and teasing, and flirting, and the times we pushed and ran from each other, every time, Hannibal. How I wanted you. You couldn’t feel that?”
“I was afraid to believe it was even possible.” Hannibal kissed Will’s neck with obsessive attention that screamed “fetish,” but if that were so, he must have a separate fetish about at least ten other areas of Will’s body, judging by his behavior throughout this first lovemaking session.
The likelihood of this made Will grin until his face ached, the pain resonating out to the still fairly new scar on his cheek.
“Until you did believe,” Will sighed, and Hannibal nodded, then bit his shoulder and sucked the bite mark, shuddering at the way Will moaned and tightened around his cock.
“Yes.”
“And look where that got you.” Will raised his eyebrows teasingly, which Hannibal saw as he lifted his face to see how Will looked, and then Hannibal grasped Will’s wrists, slamming them hard to the floor.
He moved his hips back and pistoned into Will fast, hitting the spot dead on and delighting in Will’s heady gasps. “Hannibal, fucking – God, you’re – yes!” Tears of pleasure poured down his hot face as Hannibal squeezed his wrists almost harshly enough to cut off circulation, and then thrust into Will with ardent, helpless moans of his own.
Hungrily, greedily, Hannibal fucked him, and he licked Will’s face like an animal, from jaw to brow, before saying darkly in his ear, “Tell me, if there’s something you want from me, if it arouses you. Never hesitate, not now you’re mine.”
He paused between thrusts as they breathed hard against each other and Will nodded, a surprising sense of nervousness and being turned on by the nervousness starting to join the pleasure of Hannibal holding him down and fucking him. Overwhelmed and feeling like the world’s happiest fool in love, Will admitted, “I thought about you…calling me a…”
With more of that trademark cruelty, Hannibal moved his hips in a calculated manner, so that his cock slid too gently into Will, not nearly deep enough. With a reproving smirk, he gave Will a few more shallow thrusts, flexing his fingers where his palms kept Will’s wrists pinned to the rug.
“You scoundrel,” Will accused, face bright red.
Feelings of rapturous surrender washed over him, held down and pinned beneath Hannibal’s powerful body as the older man knew exactly how much weight and force he should put into everything – the way he was blanketing Will with his heavier form, the grip he had on Will’s wrists. While never having felt so powerful, Will had also never conceived of being at anyone else’s mercy like this.
Hannibal said nothing, but delicately licked Will’s ear and nibbled it with that same maddening, mean tenderness.
“I wanted you to tell me I’m your slut,” Will admitted, a fresh wave of sweat breaking hot and cold over his body everywhere, and Hannibal was everywhere, so hot, his hard cock now thrusting with proper force into Will’s tight walls.
“Yes,” Will said, and Hannibal let his wrists go in favor of flipping their positions and confidently arranging Will atop him, sweaty palms pressed to Will’s chest.
The older man cupped and groped Will’s chest possessively, oh, hello, another obsession-fetish?
“God, Hannibal…”
Hannibal held him tight by the hips and made Will move up and down on his cock roughly.
“Little slut,” he said with narrowed eyes laser-focused on Will’s and viciousness lacing the words, “Shameless little cock whore. You’re going to need it all the time, aren’t you?”
Will moaned loudly, swallowed hard and rode Hannibal even better than he had earlier, so goddamn turned on, fuck–
“Yes,” He admitted on halting breath, taking Hannibal down to the hilt, then grinning as Hannibal gripped him and fucked up into him because he realized he’d finally broken the older man down and Hannibal was close to coming.
“That’s it, Daddy, give it to me,” he added with a sinful moan, and any what-the-hell-did-I-just-say feelings, any where-did-THAT-come-from shock, and any slight doubt about if Hannibal would like being called that dissolved as Hannibal’s eyes blazed in even greater lust, an accusing and possessive fervor.
“Daddy’s perfect, pretty little cock-whore,” Hannibal praised, raking his nails hard down Will’s back and fucking into him brutally as Will clung to him for dear life. “Does baby want Daddy’s cum now?”
Will felt the world spinning as the dirty talk and the surprisingly intense impact of it heightened every already unbearably strong tremor and tingle of pleasure inside him. “Yes, give me every drop, all of it, Daddy,” Will whispered, “I need it so much.”
“Good boy,” Hannibal approved with a beastly snarl, and then he was pummeling ruthlessly into Will so fast and hard that when he fell over the edge, groaning, clinging to Will and filling him with hot cum, Will came again as well.
It was like the sound of Hannibal calling him “good boy” and the new, startling sensation of a man’s cum bursting warmly inside him – Hannibal’s seed, so totally shameless of them both, how many times had they each dreamed of this? – made Will fall back into seas of fiery, indescribable rapture – it must have been hundreds of times, between the two of them, fantasizing about what was now real. Even in his dirtiest dreams and most tawdry daytime imaginings, even with the vividness of his imagination, Will had never felt or conceived that it would be like this.
“Are you alright, darling?” Hannibal asked him softly, and Will came back to himself a few minutes later (he guessed), wrapped in Hannibal’s embrace as the older man kissed the top of his head and his forehead, wrapped a blanket around him and rubbed his back. “Was that last time too much? Did it hurt more than you liked?”
“No,” Will said with a punched-out, wane voice and a pleasure-drunken grin. He blushed as the memory and disbelief of it all hit him, and he wrapped himself around Hannibal, snug in his lap, face hidden in his husband’s neck. “Where you’re concerned, there is no ‘too much.’”
Hannibal, concerned and solicitous, drew Will’s face back to examine it more closely. “Yes?”
His serious look, with his sex-mussed, sweaty hair all askew and his face so goddamn handsome it must be illegal, almost more illegal than all of his other crimes, made Will laugh.
“I swear,” he affirmed, “I’m exactly the needy little freak you just treated me like, and if I thought either of us could go again, I would, no matter how much it hurt to come a third time. Hell, Hannibal. That might only encourage me more. I warned you.”
“Mmm.” Hannibal purred, kissing Will sweetly, like a temporarily satiated beast. “You warned me about being a greedy and desperate slut for Daddy’s cock?”
“Hanniballll,” Will moaned, this time in petulant “outrage,” but he was still smiling so hard that it hurt, too. His face ached, his body ached.
They were quite literally dirty, covered in each other and very possibly actually stuck to each other’s bodies in a few places. The thought made a quiver of residual pleasure, mixed in that sharp twinge of oversensitive pain, hit Will again. He hugged Hannibal like a big, murderous, cannibalistic, teddy bear and sighed in bliss.
***
Hannibal recovered himself first, but in all honesty, as he even admitted, it was only out of concern for Will’s comfort. On legs as wobbly and nearly useless as Will’s own, he padded naked to the bathroom and returned with a few warm, wet clothes. They cleaned each other wearily with plenty of extra kisses and smitten looks shared.
“You’re every dream I ever had, come true,” Hannibal said when they were relatively clean, clasping Will’s body in his strong arms and sighing against the younger man’s thoroughly messed-up curls.
His arms tightened and his heart pounded against Will’s own. Will had to wonder if and when they were going to calm down.
“You’re mine,” Will said, the words carrying multiple meanings that pleased Hannibal to no end.
“Do you think we can make it to bed?” Hannibal laughed with a comical grimace, then yawned.
Will nodded and devised, “If we lean on each other, I think we can just about drag our asses there. C’mon, Daddy…”
“You can’t joke about calling me that,” Hannibal warned, voice tired but serious and funny all at once. “I’ll get hard again.”
Will laughed, giving Hannibal a hand to help him stand again. He shook his head, but Hannibal gave him a deadpan look. “I’m serious.”
They half-stumbled down the hall and into the bedroom, then flopped into bed with relieved sighs.
Will rolled into Hannibal’s arms and threw his hand around, finally managing to find the top of the blanket and get most of it to cover them. He snuggled against Hannibal’s chest as silver hair tickled his nose. The sensation made him grin, and so did knowing how he was going to be incredibly sore tomorrow. The soreness would only make him want Hannibal to fuck him again, and he already knew that Hannibal would not fail to mention this, make Will turn bright red at the statement, and then carry the deed out.
Hannibal hugged him close, and finally his breathing started to even out, along with Will’s own, heartbeats feeling like sort-of a natural pace.
“We could go to the beach tomorrow,” Will suggested in a sleepy murmur, then yawned. “We could swim in the ocean if you wanna.”
“Yes. I’d like that very much.” Hannibal caressed Will’s back and asked with equally groggy sincerity, “We haven’t been to the ocean since Then. You won’t be afraid?”
Will considered the valid question. It was true that since he’d toppled them into a fall that had felt like miles down into a horrifying collision to the ocean, which had done its best to kill them immediately thereafter, Will had been nervous to return to its salt scent, its rollicking waves, its siren call of danger and crystal clarity.
But he shook his head, snuggling even closer against Hannibal’s warm chest, perfectly content. “No, I won’t be afraid. Not with you. You’re the one who taught me to swim.”