"You should know better than anyone, Dr. Lecter," Will replies, his tone intentionally dark, but fond and teasing, "appearing to be submissive doesn't necessarily bespeak submission." He raises to the height of his knees then, pressing his mouth against the flat expanse between Hannibal's cock and the crease of one of Hannibal's thighs, pushing in close and sucking hard. Pulling back he admires his handiwork, a vivid purple-red bloom of blood just beneath the surface of Hannibal's skin, his mark left behind. In reality it will fade, but he knows the memory of it will last until the end of Will's days, and Hannibal's as well.

After this brief detour, Will gets quickly back on track, turning his attention to Hannibal's shoes, unlacing them and helping Hannibal work them off and then step out of his trousers and underwear. As he tends to Hannibal's clothes, Will frequently leans close to Hannibal's groin, breathing heated exhalations against the ruddy length of his cock, now fully erect, watching it twitch and leak, unbidden, inhaling deeply the rugged, masculine scent of Hannibal's desire.

Once Hannibal is naked from the waist down, Will moves to stand, meeting Hannibal's eyes as he pushes his hands beneath Hannibal's shirt, sliding it over Hannibal's shoulders and then tugging the sleeves down and off, leaving Hannibal entirely nude where Will is still completely dressed. Will's gaze remains locked on Hannibal's, and he makes no move to touch or kiss or begin taking his own clothes off. After a lengthy moment of silence, he reaches up with one hand, running his fingertips down the curve of Hannibal's lightly stubbled cheek.

"Will you undress me?" He says, and it's not a question, even though that's how it's posed. It's a gentle command, an entreaty, and Will's eyes don't leave Hannibal's as he awaits Hannibal's reply.