Hannibal's smile is dangerous, the color of his eyes wicked, all of it
intended as a reminder of the pain and violence Hannibal is capable
of, the vulnerability of the position Will is in, even as the one
standing over Hannibal, giving orders. Will can think of at least a
dozen ways, just off the top of his head, that Hannibal could kill him
right now, still on his knees, with no other weapon than his teeth and
his hands. Trusting that he won't could prove to be fatal, but Will
does it anyway; Hannibal has let him in, and the deadly expression on
Hannibal's face is a gift, a glimpse of what would have been if Will
had said no to fleeing with Hannibal to Europe.
When Hannibal flicks out his tongue, tasting the fluid that's
collecting at the end of Will's cock, and it's teasing in many ways,
but it also makes Will think about Hannibal's skill in the kitchen, of
him taking a taste of a culinary masterpiece he's perfected. And,
essentially, that is what he's doing; he's trying Will out, savoring
the flavor of all his hard work, blood and sweat. Satisfied with the
flavor, he swallows Will down, and the sound that breaks free of
Will's throat is beyond his control, visceral, drawn from his core and
pulled up into the air. Will catches a handful of Hannibal's hair in
his fist but he doesn't hold him in place, doesn't direct him. Instead
he holds still, his breath hitching as Hannibal's teeth press down
around the base of his dick, just enough pressure to feel the points,
for Hannibal to feel Will's blood pumping in the thick veins,
stuttering.
And then, after another breath, Hannibal releases him, sliding back
and smoothing his tongue along the throbbing length of Will. The
relief is so intense that Will realizes, for a heady moment, that he
actually thought Hannibal might tear him apart. His body is flooded
with adrenaline, his head spinning, and he tips his head to watch, to
see Hannibal's lips stretched around him, Hannibal's hard, dark eyes
turned upward toward him. He looks terrifying and gorgeous at once,
and Will sobs, pleasure sparking all over his body, making him shake.
And then, at the bottom of Hannibal's next press, Will anchors his
hand at the back of Hannibal's head and he thrusts, sharp and shallow,
pushing just another quarter of an inch deeper, taking for the first
time.
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Hannibal's smile is dangerous, the color of his eyes wicked, all of it intended as a reminder of the pain and violence Hannibal is capable of, the vulnerability of the position Will is in, even as the one standing over Hannibal, giving orders. Will can think of at least a dozen ways, just off the top of his head, that Hannibal could kill him right now, still on his knees, with no other weapon than his teeth and his hands. Trusting that he won't could prove to be fatal, but Will does it anyway; Hannibal has let him in, and the deadly expression on Hannibal's face is a gift, a glimpse of what would have been if Will had said no to fleeing with Hannibal to Europe.
When Hannibal flicks out his tongue, tasting the fluid that's collecting at the end of Will's cock, and it's teasing in many ways, but it also makes Will think about Hannibal's skill in the kitchen, of him taking a taste of a culinary masterpiece he's perfected. And, essentially, that is what he's doing; he's trying Will out, savoring the flavor of all his hard work, blood and sweat. Satisfied with the flavor, he swallows Will down, and the sound that breaks free of Will's throat is beyond his control, visceral, drawn from his core and pulled up into the air. Will catches a handful of Hannibal's hair in his fist but he doesn't hold him in place, doesn't direct him. Instead he holds still, his breath hitching as Hannibal's teeth press down around the base of his dick, just enough pressure to feel the points, for Hannibal to feel Will's blood pumping in the thick veins, stuttering.
And then, after another breath, Hannibal releases him, sliding back and smoothing his tongue along the throbbing length of Will. The relief is so intense that Will realizes, for a heady moment, that he actually thought Hannibal might tear him apart. His body is flooded with adrenaline, his head spinning, and he tips his head to watch, to see Hannibal's lips stretched around him, Hannibal's hard, dark eyes turned upward toward him. He looks terrifying and gorgeous at once, and Will sobs, pleasure sparking all over his body, making him shake. And then, at the bottom of Hannibal's next press, Will anchors his hand at the back of Hannibal's head and he thrusts, sharp and shallow, pushing just another quarter of an inch deeper, taking for the first time.