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Jan. 30th, 2016 08:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adaptevolvebecomeWhen Hannibal asks Will to come to dinner the night before they're to have their fateful meal with Jack, Will thinks maybe it's one more evening of planning, another few hours for Hannibal to be sure that Will is really ready to do what he says he will in regards to Jack's murder. As usual they talk around each other, neither one admitting anything, touching on things just enough to avoid being untruthful, never really saying anything. But the nothing they say is heavy with intent, and the moves they make are like a game for which neither of them knows the rules.
Hannibal asks about Jack, finally, and the question is framed in such a way that Will can easily deflect rather than answer directly. But even as he says what he does, about Jack's fate being preordained, he thinks that there's a part of him that could do what he's told Hannibal he can, could help Hannibal kill him. He doesn't cherish the idea of murdering Jack, doesn't imagine it will give him the rush of power he felt when he put ten bullets into Garrett Jacob Hobbs, when he nearly shot Clark Ingram in the head, when he broke Randal Tier's neck. But he's started to lose sight of where his reality ends and his deception begins.
Letting Hannibal in, giving him permission (and invitation) to be close, has given Will new insight. There's something in the vulnerability they've shared, even if some of it had been manufactured on Will's part, that makes some part of Will loathe to turn on Hannibal as was his initial design. It's not as if he's forgotten what Hannibal did to him, because he hasn't. But he's starting to understand why, to see the flesh and blood behind a man who is most certainly a monster. Hannibal can be cold and calculating and cruel, but he's passionate as well, he has the ability to be broken hearted, and the capacity for love.
Before he'd brought up Jack, Hannibal had talked about an imago, and the more Will considers it, the more he starts to realize that maybe Hannibal is hinting at something. He has in his mind his ideal for Will, a partner, Will thinks, someone he can share his intellect with, his thoughts, dark and light, someone who can and will understand him. But it makes Will wonder if Hannibal's seen through the cracks of Will's deceit, as fine as they are, if he knows betrayal awaits him when Jack arrives tomorrow night. It makes bile rise in the back of Will's throat, not because he's afraid of what Hannibal will do, but rather because the idea of hurting Hannibal in that way squeezes at his heart in a manner he never thought possible.
Will takes a sip of his wine in an attempt to wash the guilt down, but it sticks in his throat, burns in his sinuses. He can hear the intake of Hannibal's breath, ready to speak, but the words that come out of his mouth aren't what Will expects.
"We could disappear now, tonight," Hannibal suggests, his voice low and honest in a way that Will can feel vibrating in his bones. "Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite."
There's a long silence then, spun out between them, and Will's instinct is to deflect again, say something that isn't a no or a yes, just words to fill the space. But, in his heart, all he wants is to agree, to leave all of this behind and run away with Hannibal, for better or worse, whatever that means. Jack would see him as a traitor, a liar, Alana would know it was weakness, giving into Hannibal's designs (because she knows exactly what that feels like), but, besides having to leave his dogs, Will has nothing to lose. He doesn't feel loyalty to the FBI, he doesn't have Jack or Alana's complete trust. He doesn't have Hannibal's either, and there's always a chance that Hannibal will kill him as soon as they get away, but Will suddenly understands that he doesn't care. This life, the one he's been pretending to live these few months, is what he wants. He's never felt more alive, has never understood himself better, than when he's with Hannibal.
"Yes," Will says quietly, his eyes meeting Hannibal's as he nods softly, his gaze clear and unburdened for the first time. "Let's go tonight. I want to," he adds, wanting his intentions to be completely understood, nothing disguised by the veil that usually hung between them.
Hannibal asks about Jack, finally, and the question is framed in such a way that Will can easily deflect rather than answer directly. But even as he says what he does, about Jack's fate being preordained, he thinks that there's a part of him that could do what he's told Hannibal he can, could help Hannibal kill him. He doesn't cherish the idea of murdering Jack, doesn't imagine it will give him the rush of power he felt when he put ten bullets into Garrett Jacob Hobbs, when he nearly shot Clark Ingram in the head, when he broke Randal Tier's neck. But he's started to lose sight of where his reality ends and his deception begins.
Letting Hannibal in, giving him permission (and invitation) to be close, has given Will new insight. There's something in the vulnerability they've shared, even if some of it had been manufactured on Will's part, that makes some part of Will loathe to turn on Hannibal as was his initial design. It's not as if he's forgotten what Hannibal did to him, because he hasn't. But he's starting to understand why, to see the flesh and blood behind a man who is most certainly a monster. Hannibal can be cold and calculating and cruel, but he's passionate as well, he has the ability to be broken hearted, and the capacity for love.
Before he'd brought up Jack, Hannibal had talked about an imago, and the more Will considers it, the more he starts to realize that maybe Hannibal is hinting at something. He has in his mind his ideal for Will, a partner, Will thinks, someone he can share his intellect with, his thoughts, dark and light, someone who can and will understand him. But it makes Will wonder if Hannibal's seen through the cracks of Will's deceit, as fine as they are, if he knows betrayal awaits him when Jack arrives tomorrow night. It makes bile rise in the back of Will's throat, not because he's afraid of what Hannibal will do, but rather because the idea of hurting Hannibal in that way squeezes at his heart in a manner he never thought possible.
Will takes a sip of his wine in an attempt to wash the guilt down, but it sticks in his throat, burns in his sinuses. He can hear the intake of Hannibal's breath, ready to speak, but the words that come out of his mouth aren't what Will expects.
"We could disappear now, tonight," Hannibal suggests, his voice low and honest in a way that Will can feel vibrating in his bones. "Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite."
There's a long silence then, spun out between them, and Will's instinct is to deflect again, say something that isn't a no or a yes, just words to fill the space. But, in his heart, all he wants is to agree, to leave all of this behind and run away with Hannibal, for better or worse, whatever that means. Jack would see him as a traitor, a liar, Alana would know it was weakness, giving into Hannibal's designs (because she knows exactly what that feels like), but, besides having to leave his dogs, Will has nothing to lose. He doesn't feel loyalty to the FBI, he doesn't have Jack or Alana's complete trust. He doesn't have Hannibal's either, and there's always a chance that Hannibal will kill him as soon as they get away, but Will suddenly understands that he doesn't care. This life, the one he's been pretending to live these few months, is what he wants. He's never felt more alive, has never understood himself better, than when he's with Hannibal.
"Yes," Will says quietly, his eyes meeting Hannibal's as he nods softly, his gaze clear and unburdened for the first time. "Let's go tonight. I want to," he adds, wanting his intentions to be completely understood, nothing disguised by the veil that usually hung between them.
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Date: 2016-05-12 01:49 am (UTC)Hannibal leans in and brushes a kiss against Will's lips before sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the table, and standing. He stretches his sore arms, rolls his head to stretch his neck, then turns, smiles, holds out a hand.
Hannibal leads Will to the bathroom. Like the kitchen and the bedroom, the bathroom is impressively large and ornate, with a large tub and a separate glass box shower. Hannibal goes to the tub and turns on the faucet, experimenting with the water until it is just below scalding. Then he leaves it to fill as he searches the cabinets for soap.
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Date: 2016-05-16 02:02 am (UTC)[I'm so, so sorry this has taken so long. The end of last week was a bit nuts and I'm just now getting the chance to catch up on everything.]
Will takes a breath at Hannibal's words, and he knows they're true. The idea of being away from Hannibal, separated for any extended period of time, makes Will feel anxious, uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with the worry of what Hannibal might do, a notion that's new to Will. He's not afraid of Hannibal anymore, he's not considering the ways Hannibal is manipulating him. His desire to be close to Hannibal stems from his affection, his attraction, the shifting of his obsession. He hasn't had enough of Hannibal, not even close, and he doesn't want to be apart from him until that part of him is more completely sated.
Will doesn't hesitate to take Hannibal's hand, and though his body is aching, he feels like he walking to the bathroom in a euphoric haze. He watches Hannibal as he fills the tub with steaming water, admires the stretch and pull of Hannibal's muscles beneath his skin, and his mouth waters anew. Never in his life has Will craved another person the way he does this man, never has he felt a hunger, physical and emotional, like he does for Hannibal.
The tub fills quickly, and Will is anxious to join Hannibal in it, to feel Hannibal's skin, to bathe and relax and be close. He's exhausted, bone tired, but the image of Will taking Hannibal in the water comes unbidden, splitting his thighs and straddling Hannibal's hips, moving until the blunt head of Hannibal's cock presses against him and then in in in, deep and thick. They probably won't fuck now, they're both too worn out for it, but the fact that Will thinks of it, wants it, is new to him, telling and wonderful.
Sitting on the rim of the tub, Will drags his fingers through the water, the heat causing goosebumps to rise on his arm before they settle again. He turns his eyes up to Hannibal, waiting for direction, to see how Hannibal wants them to arrange themselves in the bath.
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Date: 2016-05-18 03:39 am (UTC)Hannibal smiles at the thought.
The soap is in a cabinet with a few other bathing necessities, and when Hannibal returns to the tub he's carrying soap, shampoo, wash cloths, and towels. He sets them aside and turns off the water, then climbs into the tub, eases himself down into the water and lies back. The water is hot and feels wonderful on his skin and weary muscles, and he sighs in contentment, then holds a hand out for Will.
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Date: 2016-05-19 06:05 am (UTC)Will watches Hannibal's face, sees the wistful smile, and wonders what thought just crossed Hannibal's mind, if it's anything like the ones that keep coming to Will's. One thing Will does know, however, is that the smile is for him, a gift to let him know that the thoughts involve him, that Hannibal finds them pleasing.
Will's return smile is soft, barely there but enough for Hannibal to see, to feel the contentment behind it. Will watches Hannibal as he moves to climb into the steamy water, the long lines of his body moving and stretching gracefully despite how sore he must be, fluid and lithe as he breaks the surface of the water and lowers himself down to rest back, recumbent. Will takes his hand again without hesitation, and despite his desire to mirror Hannibal's easy dexterity, he fumbles a bit when he steps in himself, owing his not falling entirely to Hannibal's sure grip.
Will stands for a moment, knee deep in the water as he contemplates how he should arrange himself, his back to Hannibal's front or face to face. Each has their benefits and determents, but for the moment Will opts for relaxation, turning to face away from Hannibal and sit down carefully between his splayed thighs, leaning back until his back encounters Hannibal's broad chest.
Will's not tiny by any stretch of the imagination, but he's smaller than Hannibal and they fit this way remarkably well as long as Will tilts his head so Hannibal's chin will clear Will's shoulder. Will's arms are heavy in his own lap as he relaxes back, closing his eyes and letting his neck release, Hannibal's shoulder bearing the weight of Will's head. Will can feel Hannibal's heart beating against his spine and the rise and fall of Hannibal's breath rocks Will gently, forward and back. The water's warm as is Hannibal's body and Will feels himself sagging already, sure he could sleep if he let himself. But they're here to bathe, and sleep will come again soon enough, so Will merely indulges in the way their bodies align, takes a few moments to just be still together and feel each other exist.
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Date: 2016-05-20 03:54 am (UTC)Hannibal turns his head to bury his face into Will's hair, closing his eyes, breathing in deep, drinking up everything about his beloved, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the beat of his heart and the twitch of his blood in his veins. He can feel his own heart increasing speed just slightly, just enough to beat in unison with Will's, as his breath also shifts to join the rhythm of his lover's.
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Date: 2016-05-22 03:16 am (UTC)Will has never felt more safe in his entire life than he does right now, held deep in a bath full of hot water and the tight in the embrace of a man he knows very well (very intimately) is a serial murderer and a cannibal. Hannibal has even tried to kill him before, though, so far, never with his own hands; still, despite how easily he could do it right now, wrap a firm hand around Will's throat or shift to snap his neck, could pull a concealed weapon and cut any number of large arteries, filling the tub with the hot flow of Will's lifeblood, Will knows he won't, not now, not for a long time to come. They have an path before them now, one that, for the foreseeable future, has no end, just twists and turns that they will follow together.
In addition to that, Will has made a decision to give Hannibal anything he asks for, has already given Hannibal everything he has: his trust, his loyalty, his heart, his body, and his life. He wants Hannibal to have it, he needs it, and he hopes Hannibal won't ask for Will's last breath until he's ready to breathe his own.
Sighing, Will reaches back carefully to cup Hannibal's head, his fingers smoothing over Hannibal's fine hair and down onto the back of Hannibal's neck. His fingertips press into Hannibal's cervical spine for a moment, the tension telling Hannibal all of those things he hasn't found the words to say before he lets his hand drop away back into the water.
"What will we do tomorrow?" Will asks softly, still relaxing, eyes closed and body heavy in Hannibal's arms.
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Date: 2016-05-23 04:07 am (UTC)When Will relaxes against him, Hannibal smiles and reaches for the soap and a washcloth, careful not to jostle him. "There are a number of options," he says, dipping the washcloth into the water. "We could spend the day exploring the city. Or we could focus on stocking the pantry." He rubs the wet washcloth against the soap, working up a lather. "Or, we could stay here. Rest. And explore each other."
He puts the soap aside, and begins to gently wash Will's chest.
"Do you have a preference?"
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Date: 2016-05-23 05:12 am (UTC)There's an appeal to all of the things Hannibal suggests, and Will lets himself contemplate each option as he enjoys the feeling of Hannibal bathing him, soft circles of the cloth over Will's skin. Will's never been to Europe before this, never been to Paris, and there's certainly a yen in him to see the sites, the architecture, the monuments, to eat the food and observe the people. Stocking the pantry is a more immediate requirement because they'll need at least the basics to be comfortable, food and wine, though Will wonders if Hannibal means to buy meat at a boucherie, or do the butchering himself.
It's probably too soon for that, hunting here in Paris. They've only been missing from home for a day and half, and Will's certain Jack's eyes and ears are focused on Europe. But Will knows Hannibal won't be put off for long, and he's surprised that he finds himself glad of it. Taking down a mark together is the next step in their deepening intimacy, and though there's still a part of Will that recoils at the idea, more of him desires to be part of it with every passing moment in Hannibal's company.
Hannibal's hand has moved over every inch of Will's chest that he can reach, the rubbing of the cloth leaving Will's skin tingling just a little, warm and soapy. There's no reason for Hannibal's hand to be sliding back and forth now, but it is, a slow, fond motion despite the barrier between their skin. Will's realizes belatedly that he's fallen into a low level of arousal from the touch, his nipples drawn up hard and his pulse rushing a bit in his throat, just enough blood pooled between his thighs to make his cock swell to half an erection. He licks his lips, tipping his head back further than he had before, baring his fluttering carotid to Hannibal's gaze.
"Will you think less of me if I choose option three?" Will asks, tilting his head enough that he can open his eyes to a slit and see Hannibal's face in his peripheral.
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Date: 2016-05-24 02:31 am (UTC)Will's response draws a quiet laugh. "Not in the slightest. We may wish to visit a local grocer's at some point tomorrow regardless, but we can certainly spend the bulk of the day resting. With nothing to distract us from each other."
One of Hannibal's hands dips below the water and begins to slowly stroke Will's thigh. "I would certainly appreciate the opportunity to drink you in. As if you were a fine painting in a museum. I want to examine every brushstroke."
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Date: 2016-05-24 05:49 am (UTC)The kiss isn't exactly expected, but it was certainly hoped for, and Will bites his lower lip when Hannibal's teeth drag over his sensitive skin, stretched tight and thin over his throbbing artery. He doesn't want to die, doesn't want this beautiful new life to end anytime soon, but the thought of Hannibal biting down, piercing his skin and spilling his blood, tasting it, makes Will shiver. He knows Hannibal can feel it, can detect every shift in Will's body, no matter how minute, so Will doesn't bother to hide any reaction, wanting Hannibal to know how genuine his desire for this, their life together, is.
Will's breath rushes out of him in a soft sigh of pleasure when Hannibal's hand moves to touch his thigh, the muscles tightening for a moment as his body reacts. Never in his life has Will been so sexually insatiable, so wanton, and he should probably be ashamed of how quickly and easily Hannibal's touch arouses him, but, at the moment, he can't be bothered.
"So you can recreate me?" Will asks in response when Hannibal voices his desires, and Will pushes his head back a little more so he can see Hannibal's face a little. "All my imperfections and flaws," he adds, his body moving to chase Hannibal's touch, craving more like a drug. "All the marks you left on me when you made me?"
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Date: 2016-05-25 06:05 am (UTC)Will's acknowledgement of Hannibal's creative influence on him is likewise gratifying. He smiles. "'I saw the angel in the marble,'" he says, voice soft and low. "'And carved until I set him free.'" He lifts a hand to gently take Will's chin. "Michelangelo. I could not hope to recreate you. Whatsoever I may have had a hand in, the truth remains that you were always within the marble. I merely set you free."
He leans in and kisses Will softly.
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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.
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Date: 2016-05-26 04:38 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2016-05-27 09:56 pm (UTC)Will has a tendency to be impatient, in a hurry to move on to what's next, to get things over with. Sex before Hannibal was absolutely one of those situations where Will wasn't interested in spending much time, rushing to the conclusion as quickly as his partner would allow. Here with Hannibal, kissing leisurely, warm and close but neither of them being driven by desperation, Will realizes he could do this for hours, just kiss and touch with no immediate end in sight. Hannibal's mouth tastes hot and raw, like nothing but him, and Will searches every inch with his tongue, his arms wrapping around Hannibal's neck when Hannibal pull him close, puts their erections in contact. He groans at the feeling, at the memory of how Hannibal feels inside him, and he finds if he squeezes the right muscles the little ache from the stretch is still there, the feeling making him shiver.
Still, Hannibal's not rushing so Will savors the moment himself, arching his back and rolling his hips forward as best he can from the position he's in so he can rub himself against Hannibal's generous girth. Wanting a more direct touch, he moves one hand down Hannibal's chest, sliding beneath the surface of the water as he follows the firm musculature of Hannibal's abdomen down to the plunging vee between his thighs. There Will winds his fingers around Hannibal's shaft, his grip loose as he strokes not with the intention of further arousing but experiencing, toying with the shift of Hannibal's foreskin, feeling the ridges and veins, the shape of the flared head and the length of the slit in the tip. He's still kissing Hannibal all the while, but pace has slowed, Will's attention divided, and eventually he eases back, wanting to watch Hannibal's face as he decides where he's going next.
He holds Hannibal's gaze as he slides the circle of his fist down Hannibal's length until he reaches the root, his hand turning and moving carefully as he cups Hannibal's scrotum, feeling the skin go from loose to tight beneath his touch. He licks his lips as he tests the shape of each testicle, fingers following the curves, thumb stroking. He feels a thickness in the back of his throat as he continues his explorations, Hannibal's dark eyes on his own, trust and desire in them, and it takes Will a moment to realize the raucous breathing he hears is his own. He swallows hard as his fingers push back, fingertips slipping over Hannibal's perineum, and he can't really get at what he wants in this position, not with how upright Hannibal is sitting, but he wants Hannibal to know he's not going to shy away from it either, that, if Hannibal wants it, to be touched there, tasted, fucked, Will wants it too.
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Date: 2016-05-28 05:35 am (UTC)It is to Hannibal's surprise, then, how he finds himself reacting when Will's fingers venture lower. Truly, it is not unexpected, and yet Hannibal finds himself drawing a quick breath. It has been a very long time since he has been penetrated, always preferring to be in control, dominant, when intimate with men, considering especially that up to this point the purpose of those intimacies had been manipulation. But now, Hannibal has already laid claim, and their relationship is one of mutual respect, mutual trust. Perhaps allowing Will to assume that dominant position would further strengthen that bond with a demonstration of that trust.
And he finds himself desiring it. Needing it. Wanting to feel Will touch him there. Take him there.
Hannibal closes his eyes, draws another, slower, breath, then opens his eyes to again meet Will's. With their eyes locked, Hannibal moves his hands from Will's waist to the sides of the tub, and slides down, just enough to tilt his hips and open the way for Will's fingers.
"Yes, Will," he whispers.
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Date: 2016-05-28 07:46 pm (UTC)At first Will thinks Hannibal might stop him, that he'll put a limit on what Will can do, assert his dominance here as far as sex is concerned between them. It's been clear since the first time they fucked in Baltimore that Will isn't the first man Hannibal's taken to bed, and Will is intensely interested now to know if Hannibal has always been the one to take, if he's ever had someone touch him the way Will wants to now. If he hasn't done it (and doesn't want to) Will's certain it has nothing to do with stigma or fear; it's entirely about control, about asserting it and refusing to relinquish it.
Hannibal has already done it with Will. Sexually he's let Will go down on him, he's exposed his delicate parts to Will's touch and Will's teeth. But more than that he's exposed his heart to Will, so open in fact that it's like he cut his sternum in half and pulled his chest apart, offering the organ still beating in whatever way Will wants it. Taking Hannibal's body would pale in comparison to taking his heart, and Will has no plans to be any more careless with Hannibal physically than he has been emotionally. He's devoted to this man now; he doesn't want to do anything in this life but please him.
Hannibal meets Will's eyes and Will can read everything he needs to in them, the trust Hannibal has for him, the love and returned devotion, and Will trembles when Hannibal shifts, moving to offer himself to Will. Will can scarcely breathe with the emotions that rise inside him, touched and aroused all at once, seeing Hannibal open and vulnerable like this, desirous and unafraid. Will swallows hard and reaches out again, his careful fingertips finding Hannibal's inner thigh first, tracing the lean muscle down. He skims the underside of Hannibal's balls again but he doesn't stop there this time, keeps moving until his fingers dip low into the hollow where Hannibal's gluteus muscles dip down the midline of his body. Will's eyes don't leave Hannibal's as he moves to finally brush over Hannibal's asshole, the skin somehow warmer even that the bathwater, and he exhales a rough breath at all the thoughts in his head, how much he wants everything with this man.
He doesn't push to penetrate, not here with no lubrication, but Will rubs over the bundle of muscles, following the shape of them, touching with the intention of giving pleasure, of seeing what Hannibal likes. He puts just a bit of pressure against the sphincter, feeling it draw up more tightly before Hannibal forces it to relax, his body accepting Will's experimental touch.
"Have you... Have you been touched like this before?" Will hears himself ask, and he blinks his eyes into focus on Hannibal's face.
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Date: 2016-05-29 02:52 am (UTC)When Will's fingertips first brush over that sensitive bundle of nerves ad muscle, Hannibal again draws a quick breath, feeling his body tense. He breathes it out again, willing his body to relax, to be open, receptive. Hannibal is pleased by Will's obvious arousal at the exploration, evidence of his lover's own sincerity.
"Once," he murmurs in reply to the question. "A long time ago."
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Date: 2016-05-31 07:34 pm (UTC)Will nods, and the response spawns a dozen more questions, Will's mind moving to create scenarios based on not much more than his imagination. He has a feeling, if he asks, that Hannibal won't balk at telling Will anything he wants to know. Hannibal's not the type of person who feels shame or embarrassment about the things he's done or the choices he's made. Whether that has to do with his being a psychiatrist or a psychopath, Will isn't certain, but it does make for an extremely open dialog.
Will's fingers are still stroking around the rim of Hannibal's hole, rubbing little circles and feeling it, the texture and rebound of the muscles, the way it reacts, how Hannibal shivers or arches toward him depending on what he does. He's never spent this much time with this part of anyone, including himself, and he's a little surprised that his clinical mind hasn't taken over here, cataloging biology or thinking too much about what all this means. But he's not thinking of anything here but pleasure, but what it might feel like to slip inside and feel Hannibal's heat, to be encased within Hannibal the way Hannibal has within him, coming together viscerally and bodily to become one being. It's all new to Will, and he wants desperately to take his time, to feel and remember each step along this path, to burn it into his mind and keep it in perfect clarity forever.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, Will nudges just the very end of his finger into the clench of muscle, not bully his way in but taking as much as Hannibal's body will allow easily in this position unaided by lubrication. "Was it just this?" Will asks carefully, not pushing deeper but sort of pressing and releasing, the very beginning of something like penetration. "Fingers," he clarifies, his blood rushing in his ears and making it a little hard to think. "Or was there more?"
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Date: 2016-05-31 11:43 pm (UTC)As Will continues to explore, Hannibal tips his head back with a pleasured sigh, closing his eyes, focusing all of his attention on the sensations of Will's finger so carefully curious as they caress him in that intimate spot. He breathes into the feeling, letting it spread through his body like the warmth of a fine brandy, punctuated with short, quick gasps and slight arches as Will's fingers find particularly tender spots. Hannibal is in exceptional control of his body, even most otherwise involuntary motions. If he had reason to, he could slow his heart to a virtual standstill, fooling even a heart monitor into believing him dead. So the fact that his body is outside his control now, twitching and gasping at Will's ministrations, is something strange and wonderful.
Then Will pushes the tip of his finger just into that tight ring of muscle, and Hannibal again gasps, one of his hands leaving the side of the tub to grasp at Will's shoulder. He swallows, then relaxes, relaxing the muscles that Will is probing, relaxing his hand although he leaves it on Will's shoulder.
"Not just fingers," he says, his voice rough, his head full of images of Will taking him, filling him, fucking him. He shivers, almost imperceptibly, his achingly hard cock twitching.
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Date: 2016-06-01 05:06 am (UTC)Hannibal's face, his expression, the sound of his voice, it's all taking Will apart at a level he never thought possible, an emotional and sexual desire gripping him to a point that makes it hard to breathe. He can see what Hannibal wants in the shape of his eyes, can hear it in the raggedness of his voice, can feel it in the slight tremor that works its way through Hannibal's body. And Will wants it too, wants to close the circuit between them, both giving and taking alike, equal in their devotion, their admiration, and their physical connection.
Will thinks about what will need to happen next, getting out of the bath and drying themselves, making their way back to the bedroom, and though it's not far, the task seems almost insurmountable. Will knows they can't do anything more where they are right now, and even in bed there's the issue they encountered before in that they have no lubricant. It sends a ripple of frustration through Will, making his close his eyes and take a measured breath.
"I want this," he says, his voice a low, husky whisper as he opens his eyes to meet Hannibal's again. "I want what you had before, I want more," he goes on, feeling unstable in a different way than he's used to, on edge and out of control. "I want everything, Hannibal," he admits, nearly sobbing with it.
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Date: 2016-06-01 10:37 pm (UTC)"It's yours," he murmurs, turning his head to nuzzle against Will's ear. "All of it is yours. Even the time it may take for all of it to come to fruition. If you wish, we can explore our options."
They had olive oil if they were desperate enough. Or they could run out for something more conventional.
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Date: 2016-06-01 11:04 pm (UTC)Will closes his eyes and all but falls into Hannibal's embrace, his hand moving from between Hannibal's thighs so he can wrap his arms around Hannibal's middle, holding on. He doesn't realize how hard he'd been shaking until he can feel himself trembling against Hannibal's solid frame, can hear his breath rushing out of him in little bursts. He forces himself to slow his breathing, his chin hooked over Hannibal's shoulder, and he doesn't move to shift back until he feels much calmer, only moving enough that he can find Hannibal's eyes.
"What are our options?" he asks, and though the more intense desperation feels assuaged, Will still aches everywhere with how much he wants Hannibal, how much he needs him. Desire is coiled all through him, twisted tight around his guts and making his skin feverous, his blood running hot in his veins and causing his heart to thud heavily in his chest. He can feel Hannibal's pulse too, equally demanding, his blood calling to Will, begging for him.
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Date: 2016-06-02 05:22 am (UTC)When Will pulls back Hannibal clasps the side of his face, wanting to keep him close. "There are, of course, other ways of relieving this certain sort of tension. Perhaps not as satisfying, but useful nonetheless. We could once again utilize the olive oil, either in the kitchen or in our bed. We could try without lubricant, which is not the best solution, for even though I may not mind the pain, it would not be the most comfortable experience for you, either. Or, we can leave the apartment and procure actual lubricant. Although I imagine we'd want to relieve some of the tension before venturing out, lest our need be...visible."
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Date: 2016-06-06 04:52 am (UTC)Will can't help smiling at the way Hannibal alludes to their current state and how it would present if they went out in public now. Even if they wore clothes that concealed their undeniable physical arousal, the expressions on their faces, the flush of their skin, and the fact that there would be no way they would be able to keep their hands off each other would tell even the less observant stranger what they were on their way to do. Will takes a breath, feeling warm and complete and wanted in Hannibal's grasp, caught in Hannibal's gaze.
"I don't want to do it without lubricant," he says, and the words sound funny in Will's mouth, so blunt and clinical. "There are better ways we can incorporate pain," he adds then, some of the ideas already coming to mind making goosebumps rise on his arms. "But not tonight, not this time," he tells Hannibal. He thinks maybe Hannibal wouldn't mind that he's thinking of it as making love with Hannibal this first time, that he wants it to be profound and intense without being harmful or brutal.
He licks over his lower lip as he dips one hand beneath the surface of the water again, his fingers curving around Hannibal's shaft, squeezing once before beginning to stroke, reveling again at the fluid shift of Hannibal's foreskin. "I like the idea of going out for lube," Will says, his voice low and huskily playful. "The idea of going into a shop together to get it, giving anyone who sees it ideas." Maybe it's not the smartest plan, knowing Jack and the FBI are almost certainly looking for them, but Will can't help entertaining the notion of broadcasting their sexual relationship even in just a small radius.
"I want to take you in our bed," Will goes on, his voice going quieter, rougher as his fist moves a little more quickly over Hannibal's prick. "I want it to be good, for both of us. I want the memory to have a place of honor in your mind palace," he continues, the feeling of Hannibal in his hand enough to make Will dizzy again with desire.
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Date: 2016-06-07 04:18 am (UTC)That deserves a place of honor in his mind palace.
"Yes," he breathes, his own stroke quickening. "I have no doubt it will become one of my most treasured memories. And as such deserves to be done with proper reverence." He considers for a moment. "There's a chemist's down the street. They should have what we require."
He slows his hand, the motions becoming something of a tease, giving Will's cock less stimulation than Will likely needs at this point, not letting the arousal fade, but refusing to satisfy it either. "Tell me, Will," he purrs. "How would you incorporate pain?"
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