Chapter Text
Will’s lips are as close to heaven Hannibal has ever come. He kisses like he does everything else - thoughtfully and with casual authority. His mouth moves in slow whispers against Hannibal’s and then escalates to something ardent and consuming before dialing it back down in an unpredictable pattern. A give and take, showing both sides of his love. The love that is soft, and the love that is hungry. A love to match Hannibal’s own.
Since that night in Will’s kitchen, there have been many moments like this. Will, once again besting predictability, has proven himself an amorous man. He is not the shy boy Hannibal thought him to be. He gropes, he mouths and nips, he grips and leaves marks, he tugs and vocalizes his pleasure and these activities are not limited only to the bedroom. Or Will's living room where the only bed is, as is the case right now.
Hannibal, for the first time in his life, is outmatched.
Will’s love is … overwhelming. Hannibal still finds himself in disbelief that this scruffy hermit of a man who twitches and fidgets in the company of others is, indeed, like this when they are alone. Hannibal often finds himself distracted by Will’s attentions from the control he usually keeps for himself. He moans when he doesn’t mean to, he gasps and trembles where he usually doesn’t.
He’s a man of utmost control over his mind and body. Any past lover would tell you so. He is a gentleman, he’s quiet and subtly authoritative. He is not whatever Will has reduced him to. Except, he supposes, now he most certainly is.
He can’t even find it in himself to be upset about it, honestly. It feels too good to finally let go with someone he trusts like this. It feels too good to give much thought over the man he used to be.
Will is moaning underneath him, writhing against Hannibal’s body with his legs splayed open and propped up in the pit of Hannibal’s elbows, feet dangling by Hannibal’s ears and Hannibal’s hands on either side of Will’s head as he pounds into him. He’s so hot inside it’s like dipping himself into the sun, and he’s tight as a vice.
“Fuck, baby, just like that.”
And oh, Hannibal melts when that endearment leaves the younger man’s lips. It’s said so casually, lilting with the soft vowels of his southern roots. Hannibal wishes he would say it more often, could hear that long buried accent more often, but it only comes out when Will is out of his mind with pleasure, or when he wants something. Hannibal wonders absently if Will knows he could have anything he desires, even without such a sweet word sealing the deal.
His cock seats itself fully into Will’s welcoming body with each thrust, made slippery with an abundance of lubricant that’s hardly necessary with the way Hannibal’s cock is leaking. Will winds his strong, calloused hands through Hannibal’s hair, undoing the tight coif he combs his hair into every morning and making even more of a mess of him.
“Fuck,” Will whimpers, “there’s so much … f-feel so wet.”
It doesn’t sound like he’s disgusted. If anything, Will sounds positively rapturous. Still, Hannibal’s cheeks heat.
“I have an … oh … an overactive Cowper’s gland. Is it … ngh, fuck Will. Is it offensive to you?” He almost doesn’t want to know the answer, even though he sure it’s likely not going to be a bad one. Will feels so good that Hannibal can’t find it in himself to stop or even slow his frantic thrusts, even as something dangerously close to shame grips his throat.
“N-no, fuck, I love it. We probably don’t even need lube. Could just … ah, ah … get you hard and ready and you’d slip right in, wouldn’t you?” Will bucks his hips up at the thought. “Is that why you,” he moans at a particularly sharp thrust to his prostate, “is that why you leaked so much in my mouth last night? Fuck, it was so hot Hannibal.”
Will opens his eyes from where they had been screwed shut with pleasure, locking them on Hannibal who hasn’t been able to look away from the beauty before him. “I was consuming you. Taking you inside me. Swallowing you down.”
“Will.” He’s helpless to Will’s words, running hot and sticky over his skin. Absolutely helpless as his body falters and the rest of his control withers away to nothing.
Will brings Hannibal’s head down, and Hannibal opens his mouth for the kiss he thinks he’s about to receive, but instead, Will angles his head away with a sharp jerk of his hair so that Hannibal’s neck is bared and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth.
Sharp teeth sink into his tender flesh, right at the straining tendon, and Hannibal moans, loud and choked. Will is relentless in his biting, always is, and he comes close to breaking skin before he gentles himself, licking over the indents with the flat of his tongue. Hannibal shakes above him, thrusts becoming sloppy and rough.
“Yeah, yeah,” Will moans, “god you fuck me so good.” He’s gasping on almost every thrust, tilting his hips up as much as their positioning allows him to. When Hannibal’s cock brushes against Will’s prostate in successive hits, he yells out and grips Hannibal’s hair to the point of pain, tugging his head down and pressing it into his own neck.
Hannibal is absolutely mesmerized, this time and every time, by this man. He’s shaking now and Will senses it, runs his hands down his neck and his back before stopping at his behind, gripping there with amazing strength.
“I got you,” Will whispers hotly into his ear. Hannibal can’t help the noises coming out of his throat. He’s ruined. He’s as shaky as a newborn colt standing for the first time and he’s fucking ruined. “I got you. Come on, give it to me. It’s okay.”
“Will - ”
“Give it. To me.”
He’s helpless but to obey, slamming his hips into Will’s with everything he has, pleasure pooling hot and tight in his groin and lancing out to every nerve in his body. He goes to reach a hand between them, but Will bats his hand away fussily. Hannibal makes a sound of discontent.
“I want to come just like this, your cock and nothing else. I’m so close, baby, just a little more.”
“How you undo me, Will,” he gasps. His syllables are disjointed and breathy. He hardly recognizes his own voice. Despite being the one on top doing most of the work, he feels stung out and boneless, feels distinctly feels like he’s the one getting fucked.
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
“No one else has ever fucked you like this, have they? No one else has ever seen you like this?” Will asks, gripping his ass and moving Hannibal as he likes.
“No. Only you,” Hannibal responds breathlessly, exhausted but not wanting to stop. They’ve been going at it for almost an hour now.
“That’s right. ‘Cause you’re mine, yeah? All fuckin’ mine.”
And that’s it for Hannibal. With a half dozen more uncoordinated thrusts into Will’s welcoming hole, he throbs almost painfully hard and spills deep inside Will’s body with a roar, uttering Will’s name like it’s the only thing he knows. His own body goes numb from the pleasure as he rides out his orgasm, nerves firing until they can’t anymore and lungs squeezed tight and struggling to fill. He jackknifes his hips until every ounce of semen is pumped out, leaking out around his cock and onto the cotton of Will’s bedsheets.
And then once he thinks his body has reached its limit, Will tightens around him and presses close, hot fluid spilling between their stomachs, and Hannibal nearly wails from oversensitivity. Will is thrusting his lithe little hips onto Hannibal’s cock, still hard thanks to the cock ring Will insists on because, embarrassingly, Hannibal can’t seem to not come first when he’s inside him.
“F-uck, fuck, fuck,” Will cries out as he empties all over himself.
Hannibal kisses him as he moves himself against Hannibal’s body, deep and lewd, more tongue than lip. It’s sloppy and messy and perfect. Will sighs as his body gives one final tremor and then he melts right into the bed, sated and happy.
They pant together for a few minutes, breathing the same air as they stare into each other’s eyes. Hannibal can’t look away from him. He’s utterly perfect.
His arms are starting to give out and his cock is still nestled inside the safety of Will’s still-clenching hole.
“Will.”
“I know. You can pull out now.”
Hannibal very nearly thanks him for the permission in all earnestness and grimaces as he does, cock slapping up against his belly when he pulls out with a grunt. Will shushes him gently and reaches down. Hannibal gasps as soft fingers touch at the base of his aching cock.
“I’m just gonna slip it off. Just a sec, be a good boy for me for just a few more seconds,” Will says into his ear, kissing it as he slips off the ring. Hannibal sighs with relief and scoots down enough so that he can rest his head on Will’s chest, still between his legs. This is Will’s favorite way to cuddle, whether it’s after sex or just when they’re lounging around together. He likes the deep pressure Hannibal’s weight provides and Hannibal is happy to give it to him. He likes this too.
Will’s hands are gentle, now, as they stroke soothingly through the silvery blonde strands of his mussed hair. Their breaths are evening out. Hannibal winds his arms around Will’s middle and nuzzles deeper into the skin between his nipples, kissing him there over and over.
“I love you, Will.”
Will huffs, wiping a hand over his face bashfully. “You’re only saying that because I’m a good lay.”
The words are said lightly, but there is something else there that makes Hannibal frown. He looks up at his partner. Will sees his look of discontent and sighs.
“I’m sorry. It’s just. Still hard for me to believe this is real.”
Hannibal hums, not understanding. “Why is that?”
Will gives him a sad look. Hannibal wants to wipe that look off his face for good, and wipe the existence of those who are responsible for it. He knows why, even after all these weeks, Will still finds their shared reality a difficult one to accept. What he doesn’t know is how he can change it.
Hannibal kisses his chest once more, scenting the sweat cooling on his skin. “You know I love everything about you, Will. Nothing about you is distasteful to me.”
“I know.”
“You still mask around me,” Hannibal says.
Will shrugs, rubbing his hands absently across Hannibal’s back in indiscernible shapes. “Still scared once you fully see me, you’ll run.”
Hannibal shakes his head which only nuzzles him further into warm skin. “You see me fully, in my entirety, and you haven’t run. I trust you, Will. Trust in me that I will always want to stay.”
He can see the moment his words get through, slowly like dripping water filling an empty cup. Will’s frown lessens until it eventually disappears, his muscles relaxing under Hannibal’s weight. Will reaches down and pulls the covers over them both, kissing the top of his head. Hannibal makes a sound and leans up to kiss him square on the mouth.
“His name is Jeffery Eisenhauer. The cop,” Will says quietly into their little space of safety and comfort.
“The one who touched you? Yelled at you?”
“Yeah. Precinct 4, recently demoted to what’s basically guard duty.”
“Whatever for I wonder?”
Will smirks, not because he finds this funny, but because Hannibal knows that’s the sign of his own special darkness coming out to play. “Excessive force used on a black citizen. Citizen rightfully pressed charges. Bastard should have gotten fired, or better, jail time. But all he got was a slap on the wrist.”
Hannibal hums again, content. “That is … beyond rude,” he says just as quietly, matching the soft cadence of Will’s voice. He is no vigilante, but rude is rude. And Will wants him to. “Then I shall make sure he gets worse.”
“We shall.”
Hannibal’s heart stops.
He can’t mean …
Hannibal peers up at Will guilelessly. “Don’t jest,” he pleads.
“M’not joking. I want to watch you. I don’t want to participate physically, but I want to watch. If you’ll have me.”
Hannibal swallows thickly. “I will always have you.”
It’s late and they both have work in the morning, but they couldn’t help themselves. Will is handsy and Hannibal is weak.
Will reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, blanketing the room in comfortable darkness. The dogs snuffle in their beds, content by their space heater, and Hannibal resumes his previous position of resting his head on Will’s strong chest once the curly haired angel settles back in.
They fall asleep like that as they do every night they spend together, which has become more and more frequently as the weeks pass. Everything is quiet, and perfect as they dream.
It starts happening more and more - unmasking, showing his true self. Hannibal wonders if it’s intentional or unintentional, a dropping of guard because of a pervading sense of safety. In any case, it matters not, only that Hannibal is catching more and more of these rare and special glimpses into the man he adores.
They’re at the supermarket when Will sees him: Eisenhauer. Discreetly, he tugs on Hannibal’s sleeve to get his attention and, when he has it, because when does he not, he points to the cop that had touched him and yelled at him during the crime scene weeks ago with a nod of his head. Hannibal recognizes him instantly, but he wants to make sure.
While Hannibal looks at the man, Will selects his favorite brand of macaroni and cheese and puts it in the basket, flicking his gaze to the cop and then back to the expanse of Hannibal’s chest in quick succession.
“Is that the one, then?” Hannibal asks him quietly, assessing their intended prey.
Will nods.
“Brunette, corpulent, backwards cap?”
Will nods again. “There’s something else about him. Something off.”
Will is covertly glancing at Eisenhauer, looking for all the world like he’s just taking in the sights and nothing more. Eisenhauer is completely unaware that his days are numbered.
“What pieces is your beautiful mind uncovering, dear one?”
Will blushes at the endearment, but grins shyly all the while. “Something disgusting. It feels like insects crawling over my skin when I look at him.”
“You would like to find out,” Hannibal infers. Correctly, if the chagrined look on Will’s face is any indication.
“I know I said I didn’t want to participate, but …”
Hannibal hushes him and kisses his cheek. “Whatever happens, it shall be done,” Hannibal replies, as if it’s as easy as that, as if he is ready to drop everything - whatever he had planned for this unfortunate fellow - to heed Will’s desires. Will frowns.
Hannibal sees it and clicks his tongue, reaching up with his thumb to soothe away the consternated wrinkles between Will’s crystalline blue eyes. “You know I will always give you what you want.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Will licks his lips, making a show of perusing the shelves even though he doesn’t need anything else according to their shared grocery list. “He wasn’t even rude to you, though. He doesn’t fit your type and you would just … change that. For me.”
Hannibal shrugs politely. “Rude is rude. Besides,” Hannibal says, pushing the cart along. Will follows. “He was rude to you.”
And Hannibal can see it the moment it happens; the younger man clenching his hands into tight fists to ward off anything he feels would be unbecoming in public. And, beautifully, Hannibal sees the moment that control snaps and Will flaps his hands in quick, happy movements. Lightness like air rises quick and furious in his own chest, aching with pleasure at being allowed to see.
After exactly three seconds, Will stops. He looks horrified. “I’m - ”
Hannibal is barely just holding back his smile, can feel it wanting to split his face in two. He leans in again because he can’t help himself and kisses Will’s scruffy cheek, strokes his calloused hands with his own in a way he hopes shows how in love with him he is. “Perfect. You’re absolutely perfect,” he whispers to him.
Maybe Will can see how unembarrassed he is, maybe he can see how genuine Hannibal’s words are. He utters out a soft thank you, and it’s the last thing he says for the rest of their shopping trip. Hannibal notices the change in his mood, but he is kind enough not to say anything for now, just continues making comments as they wander the rest of the isles and talking as Will listens and nods along.
“Good evening, officer Eisenhauer.”
Strapped to a cold metal table, helpless, and coming down off the tranquilizer Hannibal had administered, the officer slowly blinks his eyes open, groggily taking in his surroundings. The three of them are in Hannibal’s basement. It’s cold, to keep the meat fresh. He and Will are both wearing plastic suits.
He wonders what Will is going to do. He wants to see what comes out naturally, without outside influence. He finds he is … excited to see. It’s a bodily sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time with a kill. It had all become mundane, like going through the trivial, meaningless motions, before Will. Will had brought the life back to him. It invigorates what he thought was gone.
Will could simply want to watch like he had originally said, and honestly, that would be enough. It was enough for Will to simply know him and accept him.
Will could also want to play with their food a little before Hannibal deals the final blow. The image of such a circumstance takes the breath from Hannibal’s lungs. He could even want to participate.
Hannibal forces himself to settle and come back to the here and now. The officer is not gagged, as no one will hear him down here. And Hannibal likes hearing them talk before their demise.
“What … where - ”
“I found your little collection,” Will says, tone flat. In his hands, he holds several cd’s of downloaded material. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’ve been a very naughty boy.”
Hannibal takes a step back from the scene that is playing out in front of him as Will takes a step forward to the operating table with a casually menacing pace.
“You like them bound and gagged, do you? Unwilling and scared?” Will asks him.
Their victim doesn’t answer, eyes frantically searching for an escape that isn’t there.
“I would answer him, if I were you, Officer Eisenhauer,” Hannibal says pleasantly.
“Fuck you,” he spits at them both, looking between Will and Hannibal when recognition sparks in his eyes. “Wait. I know you,” he says to Will. “I know you! You’re that … you’re from the crime scene! Don't you remember me?
“I remember you,” Will replies. “You were incredibly discourteous to me. Do you remember?”
“Hey, look man, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” He trails off, still mumbling out empty and pleading apologies. Hannibal purses his lips at his behavior. “You’re FBI, why are you doing this?” he asks in a voice that's pitchy and desperate.
Will sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “Because. Doing bad things to bad people feels good,” Will replies slowly, as if tasting each word as it comes out. Hannibal can’t look away from the sight before him; Will’s stony expression, his eyes devoid of anything but devious pleasure. He’s beautiful and Hannibal shakes before him.
Will turns to him, then. “Can you cut out his tongue? Will that kill him?” He asks it like he’s asking him to make his favored macaroni and cheese with whatever else Hannibal is making. Innocent and wide eyed.
“It will bleed a lot, but no, it won't kill him. I can do that for you.” Hannibal smiles then as something slots into place. “He is already bound. Is this how you wish to gag him?”
Will smiles with teeth. “Yes.”
Hannibal nods, breathless with pleasure, and walks forward to meet them. “Please attach a fifteen blade to the scalpel handle there and hand me the forceps, my love.”
“N-no. No!” Eisenhauer starts screaming. Will watches him placidly and rolls his eyes, the little beast. “Please, please, I’ll give you whatever you want. I won’t say anything.”
Will gets the scalpel ready as he considers his prey. “You only watch for now, but it won’t be enough one day. One day you’ll need more,” Will says as if explaining something to a child, delicate and disciplinary. “I see it in you. The potential to escalate. I’m afraid I have to proceed unless you promise to stop.”
“Yes. Y-yes, I’ll stop, I swear. I swear, man, please.”
“Hmm,” Will hums, nodding his head. Hannibal watches Will as Will watches their victim. Hannibal realizes he’s holding his breath. “Then maybe we should let you go.”
“Please,” Eisenhauer looks like he’s buying it. Hannibal smiles. So he is playing a game. “Please, please, please.”
“Don’t worry,” Will says softly, soothingly. “We’ll let you go. After.”
Eisenhauer's face drops. “A-after what?”
“After we’re done with you.”
Will hands Hannibal the forceps and the readied scalpel. Hannibal takes them, still unbelieving of his luck. Will Graham not only saw his beast and accepted it, he now joins it. It’s more than he could have ever dared to hope for.
Hannibal forces open Eisenhauer's mouth and places a guard in to prevent him from getting bit as their victim shouts, spittle flying everywhere. “Hush, now,” Hannibal shushes him. “No one can hear you down here.”
He’s crying now, the pest, as Hannibal pries the forceps open with his thumb and ring finger and gasps the wiggling organ in his mouth to still it. He slices it clean off, enough to serve two.
Eisenhauer cries out uselessly, garbled and pitiful, tears streaming down his ugly face. Will smiles down at him, and Hannibal smiles at Will.
“Bound and gagged, just like them,” the profiler says to Hannibal, tilting his head consideringly, lizard-like. Will looks down at their prey with empty, cool eyes. Hannibal could swoon. “I would have liked to inflict what he inflicted, but that’s not in my nature. I won’t become you. But.” And now Will looks at Hannibal, eyes fire and ice, prickling along Hannibal’s very skin. “I’d like to remove what was so offensive.”
Hannibal wets his lips. “Shall I show you how?”
Will smiles. “Please, Doctor.”
For over an hour they play with him, taking his genitals which Hannibal refuses to eat - they’ll go right in the incinerator, his fingers, his toes. Eventually the officer stops screaming and is reduced to child-like sobbing, ugly to Hannibal’s ears. He leans in close once they’re done. Eisenhauer’s eyes look at him guilelessly, hoping to be saved.
“I’m going to let you go now,” he whispers playfully to him. Will, without being asked, begins to undo his bindings, first the wrist cuffs, then the ankle cuffs. He unbuckles them with great care, surveying the mess of flesh they’ve demoted his body to. With the amount of blood he’s lost, his end will be coming very soon.
He takes a weak swing at Will, who easily deflects it with a bored look on his face. Eisenhower drops to the floor with a wet thunk and begins to crawl away aimlessly as they watch him. Will walks over to him slowly, following his steps. Hannibal sees the blade in his hand, the scalpel Hannibal had put down on the surgical tray.
Hannibal gasps, and watches. It’s all he can do not to drop to his knees at the beauty and feline grace Will exudes.
When he reaches the ladder, Will grips him by the hair and hauls his head up, slicing clean across his throat at the perfect depth. Blood sprays outward, some splatters onto Will’s face. He looks up at Hannibal who had been following behind, hoping to catch the glimpse he catches now. Will’s face is as feral as it is calm, a uniquely beautiful look that will forever live in Hannibal’s memory palace.
After their victim has been dismantled and stored away properly, everything cleaned up and righted, they go to take a shower.
Will is keyed up, frantic energy thrumming under his skin that Hannibal needs no empathy disorder to sense.
As Will is lovingly scrubbing Hannibal’s skin, he drops to his knees and turns him around. Immediately, Hannibal feels his cheeks being spread apart and Will’s mouth attaching itself to his hole, sucking and licking with sensuously slow and measured movements of his hot mouth.
Hannibal moans and leans himself against the cold tile, submitting entirely to Will and allowing himself to feel it without reservation.
Will is gripping his ass in a tight grip as he works his tongue against Hannibal in slow swipes, followed by quick flicks and noisy sucks. Hannibal is constantly grunting and groaning his pleasure, rocking his hips back into Will’s face and riding his tongue shamelessly.
“I want to be inside you. Is that okay?”
And Hannibal can’t believe that they haven’t done this yet. It’s not like he doesn’t want it, but he supposes that he has been following old habits and taking the lead every encounter they have. That needs to change. He wants to feel Will inside.
“Please.”
They keep lube in the shower these days, and Will reaches for it without taking his mouth off Hannibal. He’s enthusiastic and sloppy and Hannibal adores it.
“Use two,” Hannibal says breathlessly. “Want to feel it.”
Will obeys him, and with a click of a bottle cap and the sound of squelching fingers over the cascading water, he finally feels rough pads caressing his entrance, circling around it and dipping shallowly inside before fully seating themselves into his body. Right away, Will's fingers find his swollen gland, making his knees turn to putty. Will holds him up with one hand pressed against his lower back, the tile warming against the front of his body but still unpleasant against the hot skin of his cock. He doesn’t care. Nothing else matters but this.
Will’s next words take him by surprise. “You have a cute asshole.”
Frankly spoken, as he has been doing with ease these days. Hannibal huffs a laugh. “That’s … not a compliment I’ve ever been paid.”
“Good. No one else will ever see it again. It’s my compliment to give you.”
The words make Hannibal sigh, breathy and noisy and everything he isn’t, but is now. Will’s fingers are slender and strong as they work him open from the inside, massaging his walls and his prostate in equal measure, swirling in his depths and scissoring him open for another which comes a few moments later after another generous squirt of lubricant.
Will is not a small man below the belt, and Hannibal knows he should let Will work him open a little longer, but he hasn’t realized how much he wants this until it was offered to him and he wants it now.
“Will, please. Please.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure, dearest one. Let me have you.”
Will stands up behind him and whispers hotly in his ear, “I want you on the bed.”
Hannibal turns off the shower without further ado and steps out, Will right on his heels as they dry off quickly, gazing at each other heatedly the entire minute of toweling off they deem enough to not soak the sheets. Hannibal throws his towel onto the floor and pulls Will to the bed. They’re going to ruin these sheets anyway.
Will kisses him square on the mouth as he pushes Hannibal back onto the bed, knees hitting the mattress as he collapses in a mess of limbs onto the crisp, cream sheets. Hannibal’s legs fall open automatically and without ceremony, he pulls Will by the wrist on top of him. Their bodies meet, skin warm and supple from their shower, flushed from the heat of the water and their shared desire.
Their cocks align as they thrust their hips together in perfect sync. It’s always perfect, but this time the anticipation of allowing someone to do something his body has never received is making him antsy, craving it. A space that will only be Will’s.
Will reaches for the bottle on the nightstand and squeezes out a large dollop into his open palm, slicking himself up and smearing the rest between Hannibal’s cheeks. He’s so thankful that, at least this time, Will is not going to make him wait. He’s so ready, already moaning before he’s even penetrated.
He feels the fat head of Will’s cock nudging against his opening. His legs fall further open as he tilts his hips up, moaning unashamedly.
“So vocal for me,” Will whispers as he pushes in. “Love it, love you, love what we did together.”
“Will,” he whispers reverently, cupping both of the younger man’s cheeks in his hands and bringing his head down for a deep, searching kiss. Their mouths press together as Will thrusts shallowly inside, getting them both used to each other in this new way. Will’s eyes are a deep blue as he stares at him, into him, and Hannibal keeps his eyes open too, wet and searching. This feels … it’s indescribable. He can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner. He’s going to want this all the time.
Will is fully seated now, stilling his hips as Hannibal breathes through the stretch. It’s good. It’s so fucking good. Will feels huge like this, filling him up so beautifully and nudging every little spot inside him that creates bolts of deep sensation up and down his body, alighting his nerves like a lit match to gasoline.
And then Will moves.
Will has one hand pillowed under Hannibal’s head and the other gripping bruises onto his hip as he thrusts in, gazing down at him lovingly as his hips circle. Hannibal can’t believe the noises coming out of his own mouth, breathy sighs and pitchy moans and disjointed whimpers. He can’t form words. There are no words.
His eyes close without his permission and it only elevates the sensations coursing like lightning strikes through his body. Will’s thick cock is rubbing up against his prostate on every push in and every pull out. He’s going to come without a hand even touching his cock, laying fat on his belly and twitching up on every other thrust like a flower towards the sun.
Will is his sun.
He comes, hard, and the feeling of something inside his body as he does shuts his brain off. He can feel himself clenching in rhythmic flutters around Will, his spine going taut as he spills and spills between their bellies. Instead of roping up his stomach like he is accustomed to with direct penile stimulation, his ejaculate floods out of his cock, pooling onto his stomach and spilling down his flanks onto the sheets. He can't breathe for how good it is, he can feel it everywhere.
“Fuck, so good, baby, so fucking good. God,” Will cries out on top of him, his hips slamming into Hannibal’s one last time and then Hannibal feels a stream of hot fluid erupting inside him, can feel Will’s cock and balls twitching with his orgasm as he continues to mutter how good Hannibal is under his breath. He jackknifes his hips once, twice as he rides it out and the overstimulation is almost too much for Hannibal as he watches Will fall apart on top of him. Beautiful man, Hannibal thinks, watching his love’s face and chest go red from the pleasure as he bites his lower lip.
“Am I too heavy?” Will slurs.
“No. Come here.”
Will collapses onto him with a sigh. They’re both still panting. Hannibal still can’t believe they haven’t done it like this sooner. Will looks like he can’t believe it either.
They hold each other in post-coital bliss, kissing and touching and grasping. Their softening cocks nestle together between them, hearts slowing as they breathe the same air. Will strokes Hannibal’s hair back from his forehead and kisses him there gently. Hannibal feels his eyes sting.
“How do you feel,” Hannibal asks him to distract himself from the forming tears.
Will snuggles down further into him. “Like I’m coming home.”
It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes it worse and a tear falls down Hannibal’s cheek. He sniffs and Will looks at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Hannibal laughs at himself. He’s being ridiculous. “Nothing, my dear. Absolutely nothing.” He takes a breath and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. He doesn’t need to, anyways. They’ve been on the tip of his tongue for a long time now. “Move in with me.”
Will smiles shyly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“... Here?” And his brow pinches a little. Hannibal laughs and soothes it away.
“No. Not here. Yours. So we can keep your stream.”
“But. It’s so far away from where you work.”
“I’ll move my practice.”
“The dogs …”
“I love them. They’ll become ours.”
“Your basement …”
“We’ll tear it down. We’ll make a place for us.”
“All your stuff …”
“We will make room.” He holds Will to him tightly. “Please say yes.”
“Why the fuck would I say no,” Will laughs happily, his body trembling with joy. Hannibal watches him with a toothy grin that splits his face. Will coos like a bird, one of his favorite vocal stims, over and over as he wiggles around happily in Hannibal’s grasp.
Another tear slips down his cheek. Will kisses it away.