Hannibal is being so gentle with Will, here and now, a far cry from the way he'd handled him back in Baltimore. Will doesn't think it's that Hannibal's changed, or that his desire for Will has tempered in the slightest. This is something Hannibal has always been capable of, and he's not giving Will this space and time because he's luring him to a place where he can eventually turn the tables. It's because Hannibal wants this. He's wants to experience Will's tenderness, his careful exploration. This is all a part of Will's becoming. He's not only accepting the murderer inside him, but also the part that desires another man, that wants to experience everything that entails.
Drawing back with a rough, heated breath, Will turns his eyes up to Hannibal from where he's kneeling at Hannibal's feet, and he's like a disciple genuflecting before his savior. Raising his hands again, Will tucks his fingers in the elastic of Hannibal's waistband, carefully drawing the silk down and over Hannibal's erection, letting the boxers fall to Hannibal's feet.
Will is left at eye level with Hannibal's prick, heavy with blood and arcing up from between Hannibal's thighs. Will looks at it for a moment without touching, noting how far the foreskin has drawn back naturally with the engorgement of the shaft, the path the thick veins take along the length of it, the way Hannibal's testicles hang in his scrotum. Despite having the same genitals, Will has never spent this much time scrutinizing a penis, and he finds he likes the form of it, the heady smell, what it being in this state symbolizes.
Slowly, Will wraps a hand around the base of Hannibal's dick, sliding his loose fist from root to tip, drawing the foreskin back up to just cover the head before retreating, rolling the skin back. He does it again and again, feeling the heat, the weight of Hannibal in his hand, and then, taking a breath through his nose, he leans in and rolls his tongue over the glistening end, tasting the fluid there, feeling the soft, smooth skin. A part of him wants to see Hannibal's face, but Will can't make himself look up, just closes his eyes and takes the cap of Hannibal's cock in his mouth, licking over it before he slides back off, his lips brushing as he finally turns his eyes upward, looking at Hannibal through his eyelashes.
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Drawing back with a rough, heated breath, Will turns his eyes up to Hannibal from where he's kneeling at Hannibal's feet, and he's like a disciple genuflecting before his savior. Raising his hands again, Will tucks his fingers in the elastic of Hannibal's waistband, carefully drawing the silk down and over Hannibal's erection, letting the boxers fall to Hannibal's feet.
Will is left at eye level with Hannibal's prick, heavy with blood and arcing up from between Hannibal's thighs. Will looks at it for a moment without touching, noting how far the foreskin has drawn back naturally with the engorgement of the shaft, the path the thick veins take along the length of it, the way Hannibal's testicles hang in his scrotum. Despite having the same genitals, Will has never spent this much time scrutinizing a penis, and he finds he likes the form of it, the heady smell, what it being in this state symbolizes.
Slowly, Will wraps a hand around the base of Hannibal's dick, sliding his loose fist from root to tip, drawing the foreskin back up to just cover the head before retreating, rolling the skin back. He does it again and again, feeling the heat, the weight of Hannibal in his hand, and then, taking a breath through his nose, he leans in and rolls his tongue over the glistening end, tasting the fluid there, feeling the soft, smooth skin. A part of him wants to see Hannibal's face, but Will can't make himself look up, just closes his eyes and takes the cap of Hannibal's cock in his mouth, licking over it before he slides back off, his lips brushing as he finally turns his eyes upward, looking at Hannibal through his eyelashes.