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Will had learned to destroy Hannibal's armour , piece by piece; he had learned to trap him, to snatch his power for long hours until Hannibal would tip the scales again. His acts, therefore, were nothing else but a terrible reminder of his power over Lecter.
And Hannibal could hardly bear it , in his frenetic sanity, with his heart beating erratic inside his chest. He could hear it beating hard, like the fast steps of a horse moving away. He was losing control. His lips parted, letting escape a slight panting, while his eyes, savage, were still looking at the almost naked body of his particular Adonis. Will was lying on the bed, his bared chest slightly shining with the layer of sweat that had started to cover him. Hannibal kept looking at the muscles of his arm, tensed while his hand continued moving slowly, very slowly . Up, and down, over and over. Over and over again . Hannibal was going crazy and this game would be his ruin.
He growled, like an enraged animal, and snarled as soon as he discovered that cruel smile on the American's lips. He was dying to kiss him. But he knew that Will wouldn't let him get too close. That was the agreement; just watching.
And yet, Will desired to feel the big and veiny hands of the Lithuanian all over his skin. The warm touch, in a fierce contrast with the heat that his body was emanating. He wanted to feel those lips, touch his sweaty chest, discovering hidden and sensitive corners of a body that Lecter had marked years ago, claiming his ownership. Graham wanted to be his, letting his skin be impregnated by the scent of Lecter's sweat. He wanted his neck to show proudly the marks of those fangs that appeared between Hannibal's lips. He desired Hannibal , and that feeling was overwhelming.
The first moan came up suddenly, and Will let his head fall back. He could feel Hannibal's eyes over his neck, do you want to kiss it?, Graham asked with a rough voice, taken by slow desire, almost improper in that tense situation. The answer of Hannibal came in the shape of a desperate groan, and the hand of the empath moved faster, driven by arousal. Will closed his eyes, imagining that the distance between them died and those rosy lips that had stolen his breath a few moment ago, would finally brush against the sensitive skin of his neck.
The struggle became with himself. He fought to stand the temptation to end that exhausting game of power. Hannibal , he whispered, liking his own lips, with his breath increasingly agitated. He could feel the Lithuanian's despair as he slightly opened his eyes, taken by the wave of pleasure that took over him again, when his hand increased the rhythm of his movements.
Please , Hannibal mumbled; a proud, almost victorious laugh came from his lips. He shook his head, how many times had this situation happen? How many times had he felt Hannibal's heart beating in his hands? Perhaps, he felt it seconds ago, before falling from that cliff that gave them life. A new life, together at least. Please, please , Lecter's words were repeated with anxiety, with desperation. Graham felt himself on the shore of madness.
There were no words, nor an explicit consent. But Will didn't intend to complain now. Not now, when he was suffering from the same illness: necessity.
The psychiatrist's lips collapsed over his with the same voraciousness that the sea showed when it received them that night. His eyes, besides, appeared to have the same shine. Will didn't dare close his eyes while he was kissing Hannibal. He wanted to distinguish every little stroke of desire that painted the other's face.
Will relinquished the grip around his erection and led Hannibal's hand over. Hannibal resumed the task with frenetic passion. The dark haired man wanted to protest, he wanted to remind Hannibal that they didn't need to hurry, but a new moan got in the way. Lecter left one of his hands on the American's nape, so he could feel every sign of pleasure against his mouth. Slowly , Will wanted to say, but it ended up being a simple stammering, and he decided to stop resisting. He stopped fighting , because the closeness between them was the real victory.
His arms encircled the Lithuanian, pulling him against his body, managing to pull them both over the surface of the bed due to the effort. This time, it was Will Graham who intensified the kiss, parting his lips to find the wet touch of Hannibal's tongue. They joined together in a needy and passionate kiss , and they only separated to catch their breath. To remind themselves for a moment, that they were merely human.
Will's fingers started to sink in bare back of Hannibal, and he, giving up the shelter of that kiss, hid himself in the American's neck to deposit there wet kisses. Will let his head fall back completely on the bed, leaving himself totally exposed, vulnerable. Hannibal could end him right there, if he had desired it, but his weapon wasn't a knife, or a saw; his weapons was those kisses, descending now to his collar bone. That bite, that made Will shiver, moan hard; and managed to make h im arch his back .
And Hannibal, as soon as he felt Will's hips start to thrust against his hand, abandoned everything to just fix his eyes on the other's man. Intensifying the rhythm, enjoying how the volume of Graham's gasping increased, turning into shameless moans.
Will reached climax with a devastating shiver, that took away all his strength. And nevertheless, his eyes never left Hannibal's brownish, almost gold, eyes. Lecter's smile pierced him, deprived him of any protection he had left; it was a sentiment to which he had no name, at least not consciously. So he kissed him, laying on the bed, and inviting Hannibal to lay by his side, losing themselves in a slow kiss, a kiss that tasted like victory. Like love.