Will nods, though Hannibal can't see it with his back to the center of the bed, and he shifts to sit as well, his body protesting a little as he does. His hips and hamstrings are sore from the position he'd been in while Hannibal was fucking him, from the level of engagement he'd required of them in order to push back into every hard forward thrust, and his asshole aches in a different way, the sphincter stretched unnaturally, brutally. Will finds he likes how it feels, all those points of pain but particularly the last one, the sensation of it sending a little shiver through his limbs.
Will stands, feeling the slickness along the split of his ass, and he hopes Hannibal won't want a shower before they depart. It's probably a little filthy, but Will likes the idea of going through with their plan still messy and freshly fucked. They can bathe in Paris.
Will also likes the idea of leaving his clothes in the middle of Hannibal's bedroom floor, but he doesn't have anything else to wear here, so he reaches down to retrieve his boxers, slipping them on. Getting dressed feels strangely pedestrian now, in the light of the things he and Hannibal have just shared, the future on which they're embarking. He wonders if Hannibal will want Will to replace his wardrobe once they're in Europe, if he'll want his man more impeccably dressed. Will doesn't mind either way, but he'll happily do whatever Hannibal asks.
"What time is our flight?" Will queries as he bends down to pick up his pants, stepping into them with first his right leg, then his left, then zipping and buttoning up the front.
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Date: 2016-02-10 05:24 pm (UTC)Will stands, feeling the slickness along the split of his ass, and he hopes Hannibal won't want a shower before they depart. It's probably a little filthy, but Will likes the idea of going through with their plan still messy and freshly fucked. They can bathe in Paris.
Will also likes the idea of leaving his clothes in the middle of Hannibal's bedroom floor, but he doesn't have anything else to wear here, so he reaches down to retrieve his boxers, slipping them on. Getting dressed feels strangely pedestrian now, in the light of the things he and Hannibal have just shared, the future on which they're embarking. He wonders if Hannibal will want Will to replace his wardrobe once they're in Europe, if he'll want his man more impeccably dressed. Will doesn't mind either way, but he'll happily do whatever Hannibal asks.
"What time is our flight?" Will queries as he bends down to pick up his pants, stepping into them with first his right leg, then his left, then zipping and buttoning up the front.