Hannibal hums low and wraps one arm around Will's waist and settles the other hand on the back of his head, holding his lover close as he kisses him back. His own body is singing with desire and want, his hunger for Will, for his touch and his taste and his body, as intense as if they had not so recently vigorously fucked each other. Hannibal is hedonistic, yet not a glutton...he addresses his appetites with quality, not quantity, to satiety and not beyond. It is strange, then, for him to not be sated. For this hunger to still burn deep in the pit of his gut. He wonders if he will ever feel that he's had his fill of this man, or if he will carry that low-level hunger for Will for the rest of his life. He's quite curious to find out.

Still cradling Will's head as they kiss, Hannibal lets the other hand move down and find Will's ass. He cups it, enjoying the firmness, the curve and tuck. He pulls Will's hips closer, so that Will's cock slides against his own, just as hard and eager.