Hannibal doesn't waste any time, once their tender moment is over. It's not cruel, but it's not gentle either, the way Hannibal pushes Will down to the mattress, his face and chest pillowed against the duvet. Just by the mechanics of his body this leaves Will's ass angled upward, open to Hannibal's scrutiny and his touch. Will wonders if Hannibal finds this attractive, the way Will's positioned, utterly pliant and at Hannibal's mercy, his asshole and genitals obscenely exposed.
Will feels thrilled at the idea of being desired this way. It's nothing like he's ever had with a woman, always in some part dominant, ultimately the aggressor. But here, on his knees, he's subservient, a veritable buffet of vulnerability upon which Hannibal can feast.
Will hears the cap on the lubricant open and his body tenses involuntarily, every muscle clenching. He knows the more wound he is the more uncomfortable this will be, so he breathes deeply, imagining what expression might be on Hannibal's face, if he looks focused, intent, or if there's something more open, emotional, because Will can't see it. The thought that Hannibal might be looking at him with love in his eyes makes something in Will break loose, his body relaxing further even as his heart aches.
Still, he jumps very slightly when Hannibal's fingers first make contact with his skin, slick fingertips ringing his hole, a gentle touch to acclimate Will to the sensation. Will's first impression is that it feels good, far less weird than he expected. He trembles as the feeling makes his cock twitch where it hangs heavily between his thighs, goosebumps rising along the backs his legs, his buttocks.
He doesn't jump when Hannibal's fingertip dips into the center, and he takes a breath when Hannibal tells him to relax, holding it during the long drag as Hannibal slides one entire finger into him, not stopping until the width of his hand prevents further forward progress. The penetration feels unpleasant at first, not painful as much as deeply unusual. A place low in Will's belly feels hollowed out by it, raw, and he breathes shakily as he works to isolate those muscles, clenching and releasing around the width of Hannibal's finger until the scraped feeling inside him recedes, heat filling the void.
This is when Will pushes back, just a little, causing a broken sound of pleasure to come from him, the feeling overwhelming. His fingers curl into the blankets beneath him and he shudders, aching in a different way now, suddenly needing more.
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Will feels thrilled at the idea of being desired this way. It's nothing like he's ever had with a woman, always in some part dominant, ultimately the aggressor. But here, on his knees, he's subservient, a veritable buffet of vulnerability upon which Hannibal can feast.
Will hears the cap on the lubricant open and his body tenses involuntarily, every muscle clenching. He knows the more wound he is the more uncomfortable this will be, so he breathes deeply, imagining what expression might be on Hannibal's face, if he looks focused, intent, or if there's something more open, emotional, because Will can't see it. The thought that Hannibal might be looking at him with love in his eyes makes something in Will break loose, his body relaxing further even as his heart aches.
Still, he jumps very slightly when Hannibal's fingers first make contact with his skin, slick fingertips ringing his hole, a gentle touch to acclimate Will to the sensation. Will's first impression is that it feels good, far less weird than he expected. He trembles as the feeling makes his cock twitch where it hangs heavily between his thighs, goosebumps rising along the backs his legs, his buttocks.
He doesn't jump when Hannibal's fingertip dips into the center, and he takes a breath when Hannibal tells him to relax, holding it during the long drag as Hannibal slides one entire finger into him, not stopping until the width of his hand prevents further forward progress. The penetration feels unpleasant at first, not painful as much as deeply unusual. A place low in Will's belly feels hollowed out by it, raw, and he breathes shakily as he works to isolate those muscles, clenching and releasing around the width of Hannibal's finger until the scraped feeling inside him recedes, heat filling the void.
This is when Will pushes back, just a little, causing a broken sound of pleasure to come from him, the feeling overwhelming. His fingers curl into the blankets beneath him and he shudders, aching in a different way now, suddenly needing more.