Will doesn't bother to hide what Hannibal's actions are doing to him,
the deliberate way Hannibal's undressing him meant to intentionally
delay and deny, to exacerbate the agony of Will's self-imposed
restraint. It causes Will's breathing to go ragged, his limbs to
tremble, his pulse to pound through his veins, and he knows the scent
of his pheromones, his overheated blood and swollen genitals, are
further letting Hannibal know the effect he's having in addition to
calling out to him, gripping him and pulling him into a similar state
of almost dizzying desire.
By the time he's naked Will panting heavily enough that it sounds like
he's just run a marathon, and the arch of Hannibal's single brow is
like a dare, a tease, one Will is not embarrassed to be inclined to
give in to. His hand is shaking when he reaches out to cup Hannibal's
cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire coursing through him, the
urge to sink his fingertips against Hannibal's jawbone and yank him
close, to press the heel of his hand into Hannibal's chin and force
his mouth open wide, to grab a handful of Hannibal's hair in his other
fist and shove his cock down Hannibal's throat.
Not succumbing to those desires isn't a kindness for either of them.
Will knows Hannibal wants it as badly as Will does, that roughness
isn't cruelty for them just as gentleness isn't compassion. But this
moment is about making them true equals, about Hannibal submitting to
Will completely, about Will being entirely dominant. So Will slides
his fingers down to the side of Hannibal's neck, his thumb tracing
Hannibal's full, pouting lips, smearing them against Hannibal's teeth
before pressing past them, applying pressure so he can open Hannibal's
mouth, feeling the points of Hannibal's lower incisors against the pad
of his thumb. Hannibal's dark eyes are trained upward on him, waiting,
daring, and Will exhales hotly as he comes to a decision.
"Suck me," he commands, his voice rough and husky as he slides his
thumb from Hannibal's mouth, trailing it along Hannibal's lower lip
and dragging it, damp from Hannibal's saliva, over Hannibal's chin.
no subject
Will doesn't bother to hide what Hannibal's actions are doing to him, the deliberate way Hannibal's undressing him meant to intentionally delay and deny, to exacerbate the agony of Will's self-imposed restraint. It causes Will's breathing to go ragged, his limbs to tremble, his pulse to pound through his veins, and he knows the scent of his pheromones, his overheated blood and swollen genitals, are further letting Hannibal know the effect he's having in addition to calling out to him, gripping him and pulling him into a similar state of almost dizzying desire.
By the time he's naked Will panting heavily enough that it sounds like he's just run a marathon, and the arch of Hannibal's single brow is like a dare, a tease, one Will is not embarrassed to be inclined to give in to. His hand is shaking when he reaches out to cup Hannibal's cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire coursing through him, the urge to sink his fingertips against Hannibal's jawbone and yank him close, to press the heel of his hand into Hannibal's chin and force his mouth open wide, to grab a handful of Hannibal's hair in his other fist and shove his cock down Hannibal's throat.
Not succumbing to those desires isn't a kindness for either of them. Will knows Hannibal wants it as badly as Will does, that roughness isn't cruelty for them just as gentleness isn't compassion. But this moment is about making them true equals, about Hannibal submitting to Will completely, about Will being entirely dominant. So Will slides his fingers down to the side of Hannibal's neck, his thumb tracing Hannibal's full, pouting lips, smearing them against Hannibal's teeth before pressing past them, applying pressure so he can open Hannibal's mouth, feeling the points of Hannibal's lower incisors against the pad of his thumb. Hannibal's dark eyes are trained upward on him, waiting, daring, and Will exhales hotly as he comes to a decision.
"Suck me," he commands, his voice rough and husky as he slides his thumb from Hannibal's mouth, trailing it along Hannibal's lower lip and dragging it, damp from Hannibal's saliva, over Hannibal's chin.