The sound Hannibal makes is almost like a low growl, and it's completely appropriate for the way he moves, swift like a big predator, catching Will in his arms and driving Will's back into the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Will doesn't even have a chance to fill his lungs again before Hannibal's mouth is on him, crushing them together roughly, their lips and gums casualties of his fierceness. The copper tang of blood fills their mouths and Will groans into their kiss at the taste of it flooding over his tongue, and the sting of split flesh.

The hand in Will's hair pulls and tugs sharply, letting Will know that Hannibal is in control now, that Will is going to put his head exactly where Hannibal wants it. Each yank tears strands of hair from Will's head, flashes of pain lighting up all over Will's scalp, and Will's head is spinning, his body flooded with adrenaline and arousal. Hannibal's body presses close, and soon Hannibal's thick cock is rubbing roughly against Will's, the two swollen shafts grinding against each other, side by side, the scrub of Hannibal's pubic hair making Will moan and buck wantonly.

This is the fire they wanted, and Will can barely keep ahead of the blaze. His hands are clutching Hannibal's back, his nails digging in, mouth pressed into Hannibal's, tongue shoved deep, searching and twining. Their teeth clash as they come together again and again, blood smeared on their lips, lower bodies, shifting and stuttering frantically. It's good, it's so good, and Will can hear their mingled voices, grunting and whimpering like fighting animals. It's going to be over so very soon, so much, too much, and all Will can think about is how he never wants to stop.