Hannibal's touch is both careless and deliberate, the path aimless
aside from specifically avoiding Will's groin, and Will doesn't find
himself feeling impatient or anxious for a more direct touch. On the
contrary, feeling Hannibal's fingertips (lightly calloused in a way
that Will wouldn't have guessed they'd be before he knew Hannibal and
his proclivities more intimately) trailing over his skin only serves
to heighten his desire. Sex for Will has always been so much more
detached before now, the connection so benign. But Will feels like
he's part of Hannibal, their connection going so much deeper than just
physical, deeper even than love. Hannibal's easy touch, the way his
fingers ghost up Will's side, does more for Will than any of the sex
he's had with anyone else. His entire body is trembling with arousal,
hard and eager like Hannibal hadn't thoroughly fucked him only a few
hours ago.
And then there are Hannibal's words. There's a seduction in them, in
the resonance of Hannibal's voice, but it isn't because Hannibal's
being at all disingenuous to get something out of Will; rather it's
Hannibal's sincerity that turns Will on, the fact that Hannibal
doesn't have to lie or manipulate to have Will where he wants him, not
anymore. Hannibal, as the sculptor, and Will, as his creation, are
exactly what they're meant to be. No one but Hannibal could have
unlocked Will from the marble, and likewise his ministrations on any
other material would never have yielded Will.
The kiss is equal parts electric and tender, Will twisted just enough
that their mouths can meet fully. It's shallow but warm, lingering but
not hard or aggressive. It's a kiss shared by lovers, by people who
love as much (or more) than they desire. But the angle isn't good
enough for Will and he shifts carefully, turning to rest on one hip
and then even further to kneel between Hannibal's thighs, putting them
face to face. The kiss, only barely broken as Will moved, goes on in
this new arrangement, but Will's hands lift to palm Hannibal's jaw,
holding him as the kiss deepens by a fraction, just the slotting of
their lips together.
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Date: 2016-05-25 10:16 pm (UTC)Hannibal's touch is both careless and deliberate, the path aimless aside from specifically avoiding Will's groin, and Will doesn't find himself feeling impatient or anxious for a more direct touch. On the contrary, feeling Hannibal's fingertips (lightly calloused in a way that Will wouldn't have guessed they'd be before he knew Hannibal and his proclivities more intimately) trailing over his skin only serves to heighten his desire. Sex for Will has always been so much more detached before now, the connection so benign. But Will feels like he's part of Hannibal, their connection going so much deeper than just physical, deeper even than love. Hannibal's easy touch, the way his fingers ghost up Will's side, does more for Will than any of the sex he's had with anyone else. His entire body is trembling with arousal, hard and eager like Hannibal hadn't thoroughly fucked him only a few hours ago.
And then there are Hannibal's words. There's a seduction in them, in the resonance of Hannibal's voice, but it isn't because Hannibal's being at all disingenuous to get something out of Will; rather it's Hannibal's sincerity that turns Will on, the fact that Hannibal doesn't have to lie or manipulate to have Will where he wants him, not anymore. Hannibal, as the sculptor, and Will, as his creation, are exactly what they're meant to be. No one but Hannibal could have unlocked Will from the marble, and likewise his ministrations on any other material would never have yielded Will.
The kiss is equal parts electric and tender, Will twisted just enough that their mouths can meet fully. It's shallow but warm, lingering but not hard or aggressive. It's a kiss shared by lovers, by people who love as much (or more) than they desire. But the angle isn't good enough for Will and he shifts carefully, turning to rest on one hip and then even further to kneel between Hannibal's thighs, putting them face to face. The kiss, only barely broken as Will moved, goes on in this new arrangement, but Will's hands lift to palm Hannibal's jaw, holding him as the kiss deepens by a fraction, just the slotting of their lips together.