Will can feel the difference already, not only between how he and
Hannibal had been together before but also between this and every
other sexual encounter Will has ever had in his life. It's not that
Will hasn't enjoyed sex before this, because he has. But the act has
never been meaningful before this, had never been anything beyond
sating a physical, biological need. And though Will still needs this,
needs it more than he's ever needed anything before, it's not just
sex, it's about so much more than seeking sexual gratification.
They're in love. It's a strange concept only in that Will's never been
in love before, and he's not sure Hannibal has either. Hannibal's
affection is so often a tactic, a false face used to manipulate, and
Will has never bothered with it, finding no comfort in it or yearning
for it. But when Hannibal starts moving, the gentle way he pushes
deep, rolling his hips and grinding in, goosebumps rise on Will's arms
and his stomach twists and clenches with emotion. He makes a broken
sound into Hannibal's mouth as they continue to kiss, his fingers
catching hold of Hannibal's hair and twinging in, holding tight as he
tips his pelvis to change the angle of penetration and making them
both moan thickly. Will's heart is pounding and he feels Hannibal
everywhere inside him, not just the girth of Hannibal stretching his
ass, filling him up, but Hannibal's smell is flooding into his nose
with every sharp inhalation, the sound of Hannibal's breathing, the
soft little grunts of effort he's making, all of it crashing around
Will's ears like waves breaking on the beach. He swears he can feel
Hannibal's pulse in time with his own, and he imagines they're sharing
one circulatory system, Hannibal's heart pumping blood into Will's
veins, Will's heart sending it back.
As close as they are, Will can't help wanting to be closer,
his fingers twisting in Hannibal's hair, other hand splayed on
Hannibal's back, fingertips gripping Hannibal's shoulder blade. He
works his body down against every push of Hannibal inside him, his
heels digging into Hannibal's lower back, and the sounds he's making
are raw and wet and wordless, the vocalization of want, of need and
desire, of love given with abandon.
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Date: 2016-05-02 10:15 pm (UTC)Will can feel the difference already, not only between how he and Hannibal had been together before but also between this and every other sexual encounter Will has ever had in his life. It's not that Will hasn't enjoyed sex before this, because he has. But the act has never been meaningful before this, had never been anything beyond sating a physical, biological need. And though Will still needs this, needs it more than he's ever needed anything before, it's not just sex, it's about so much more than seeking sexual gratification.
They're in love. It's a strange concept only in that Will's never been in love before, and he's not sure Hannibal has either. Hannibal's affection is so often a tactic, a false face used to manipulate, and Will has never bothered with it, finding no comfort in it or yearning for it. But when Hannibal starts moving, the gentle way he pushes deep, rolling his hips and grinding in, goosebumps rise on Will's arms and his stomach twists and clenches with emotion. He makes a broken sound into Hannibal's mouth as they continue to kiss, his fingers catching hold of Hannibal's hair and twinging in, holding tight as he tips his pelvis to change the angle of penetration and making them both moan thickly. Will's heart is pounding and he feels Hannibal everywhere inside him, not just the girth of Hannibal stretching his ass, filling him up, but Hannibal's smell is flooding into his nose with every sharp inhalation, the sound of Hannibal's breathing, the soft little grunts of effort he's making, all of it crashing around Will's ears like waves breaking on the beach. He swears he can feel Hannibal's pulse in time with his own, and he imagines they're sharing one circulatory system, Hannibal's heart pumping blood into Will's veins, Will's heart sending it back.
As close as they are, Will can't help wanting to be closer, his fingers twisting in Hannibal's hair, other hand splayed on Hannibal's back, fingertips gripping Hannibal's shoulder blade. He works his body down against every push of Hannibal inside him, his heels digging into Hannibal's lower back, and the sounds he's making are raw and wet and wordless, the vocalization of want, of need and desire, of love given with abandon.