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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: 2016-09-12 08:22 am (UTC)Hannibal has always had the talent and skills to use his body and his mind to take what he wants from people, like a musician playing an instrument, coaxing exactly the right sounds with each deft touch of his fingers. Will's been at the mercy of Hannibal's puppet strings himself enough times to know what that tug feels like, to be able to identify when the moves he's making are part of Hannibal's design.
It's how he can be completely certain that here, in this moment, Hannibal's actions aren't calculated or premeditated. The way Hannibal clutched at him was fueled entirely by Hannibal's true and genuine desire for him, as is the tone of his voice now, the deepness of it as it vibrates under Will hungry mouth. Will knows there's a part of Hannibal that thrills at the idea of Will sinking his teeth in, spilling Hannibal's blood, bathing himself in the hot, heavy arterial spray. That thought, as well as the other things Hannibal is desperate for, is what's causing the quick throb of Hannibal's pulse, and it's feeding Will as well, driving him on, their thirst for each other calling out, lifting them up until they reach the pinnacle.
Will doesn't take his mouth away from Hannibal's throat as his hands work their way down, unbuckling Hannibal's belt and opening the button on the front of his trousers. He licks into the hollow between Hannibal's collarbones as he draws the zipper down, dragging his nose and mouth along Hannibal's sternum, nuzzling into the mat of chest hair as he stoops to push Hannibal's pants and underwear down, hooking his thumbs in the waist of both garments and dragging them to Hannibal's knees, and then further to his ankles.
He pauses, resting on one knee and turning his eyes up to Hannibal, his body bared aside from his open shirt and the puddle of clothing caught at his shoes. It's a stunning sight, the beginnings of arousal thickening Hannibal's cock between his thighs, Hannibal's dark eyes on him, so heated and intense that it feels like a physical touch. Again Will feels like a disciple at the feet of his savior, but he realizes, even as he thinks it, that he's Hannibal's redeemer as much as Hannibal is his. They've saved each other, found each other, are making each other whole in a way they've never been before.
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Date: 2016-09-14 03:03 am (UTC)Hannibal rests his hand on the back of Will's head as his lover's lips and teeth slip downward. He draws a breath as Will's hands go to his belt and the fastenings of his trousers, his fingers so close to Hannibal's cock. As Will sinks to one knee, baring Hannibal's growing arousal, Hannibal gazes down at him, his hand now cupping Will's cheek, and smiles.
"Shouldn't I be the one on my knees?" he murmurs, his eyes sparkling.
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Date: 2016-09-15 05:49 am (UTC)"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.
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Date: 2016-09-19 01:59 am (UTC)As Will removes the rest of Hannibal's clothing, Hannibal again moves only enough to enable him. He watches his lover's every move, his eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on his face. Everything Will does, every heated breath, every denied touch, is perfect torture, and Hannibal is deeply enjoying every single moment. When Will goes still, eyes locked on Hannibal's, Hannibal's smile widens, his eyes dark, his breath heavy, his pulse fluttering in his carotid. He yearns to reach out, to grab his lover, tear his clothes off, drag him down on the bed and fuck him right there, right then. It would be glorious.
But he stays still, denies himself, because this, what they are doing together, is a million times better.
When Will touches his cheek, breaking the stillness, Hannibal closes his eyes as he takes a single, shivery breath, the simple contact releasing a rush of endorphins. He opens his eyes again, his pupils wide, dark and fathomless, and does not move to return the touch, however much he longs to. He is waiting for some sign from Will, and when Will makes his request, Hannibal's smile deepens. Without breaking his intense gaze, Hannibal lifts his hands to Will's shirt, and slowly undoes them, one by one. Once the shirt is unbuttoned, he draws it open and pulls it off Will's shoulders, down his arms, and lets it fall to the floor. Then, slowly, his eyes always on Will's, he slides to his knees and begins to unbuckle his lover's belt.
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Date: 2016-09-28 06:24 am (UTC)Will remembers with perfect clarity every moment he and Hannibal have shared eye contact, from the very first fleeting connections to the long, hard stare downs after Will was released from prison. The shape of their gazes has changed exponentially in the last two days, and now all the darkness that remains is built of desire, both sexual and a undeniable yen to proceed down the inevitable path their lives are taking together.
In Hannibal's eyes Will can see the raw, unmasked version of the man he now knows almost as intimately as he does himself. There's no need for guarding now, no veil between them; the hunger in Hannibal's expression is for what they are becoming, what they can be together, not for what Hannibal can take. Will isn't Hannibal's undertaking anymore, he's Hannibal's equal. They're lovers in every sense of the word, two grotesque creatures who have found beauty in their conjoining, completion in their fusion.
Before now Will had never felt particularly drawn to sex, though it was something he enjoyed when it occurred. But the action of Hannibal dropping to his knees, the expression on his face and the color of his eyes, it all twists Will's guts into tight knots of exquisite, excruciating arousal. He knows Hannibal can smell it, as keen as his senses are and as near as he is to Will's heated, throbbing groin. He hasn't forgotten where this is meant to end, but instinct is compelling Will to find solidity and friction in his lover's touch, his hands aching with the desire to grip Hannibal's hair and hold him, pull him close. He curls his hands into fists and watches, breath rushing out of him as Hannibal's graceful, powerful hands do their work, following Will's command and opening his belt, stripping him bare.
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Date: 2016-09-29 04:13 am (UTC)His eyes still looking up into Will's, he slows the motions of his hands, unbuckling Will's belt, then unbuttoning his trousers, then dragging down the zipper, all with torturous slowness, as he watches his lover's body react to desire denied. Next the shoes, the socks, then the trousers and underwear pulled down in one smooth, slow motion. Hannibal takes just a moment to sit back and look at his beautiful Will, before he moves forward, his mouth coming as close as possible to Will's cock without actually touching it with any more than heated breath. He lifts his eyes again to Will's, and raises one eyebrow, daring him to give in, either to order Hannibal to fellate him or to use those strong hands and take what he wants.
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Date: 2016-10-03 05:50 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2016-10-04 06:03 pm (UTC)And then Will takes the step both he and Hannibal long for, and gives the order Hannibal had challenged him to. Hannibal's eyes sparkle dangerously as he extends his tongue, and slowly laps the shiny pearl of precum from the tip of Will's cock. Then he leans in, taking Will in his mouth all the way, the reflexes of his throat entirely under his control. And here Hannibal is again exquisitely dangerous, the lion with the tamer's head in his mouth. One chomp and he could sever his lover's cock and drink the blood that would come spurting from the wound. It's a glorious image, and Hannibal wonders if Will thinks of it as well. He bites down, just a little right at the base, to remind Will of what he risks, of what Hannibal surrenders. Then he eases up on the pressure with his teeth, and instead pulls back, stroking Will's length with his lips and tongue.
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Date: 2016-10-05 05:10 am (UTC)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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Date: 2016-10-06 08:07 pm (UTC)Hannibal's own cock is throbbing, aching between his legs, untended, and there is certainly the strong temptation to let one of his hands drop down so he can touch himself, find some release from the sweet agony. But he does not, waiting to see what Will shall do, finding pleasure in allowing his lover that control.
Will's cock is deep enough in Hannibal's throat that another, less talented man might gag. Instead, Hannibal swallows, his tongue and throat muscles rippling along Will's length. Any further and Will may cut off Hannibal's airways, which has its own enticements. Hannibal looks up at Will, waiting, challenging.
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Date: 2016-10-12 07:05 pm (UTC)Will hadn't worried that Hannibal wouldn't want his thrusting, wouldn't be able to handle it as gracefully as he handles everything, but the touch of Hannibal's hands, gripping but not pulling him in, perfectly, beautifully confirms all of those suspicions. There's a longing in Hannibal's eyes, and simultaneously an edge to his expression, daring Will to take this further, to use and abuse his lover in a way he's never allowed himself to before.
Hannibal knows there's a desire there, hidden deep inside, a violence that extends beyond killing, its tendrils reaching out into other aspects of Will's life. Sex with Hannibal is already something other than any other sexual experience Will's ever had, more satisfying, and he knows this is the bulk of the reason why. Hannibal knows what Will wants, what he needs, even when Will doesn't.
Releasing his grip on Hannibal's hair, Will slides his hand down to palm the base of Hannibal's skull, his fingertips digging in as he shifts form slow but rhythmic thrusts to push forward, not stopping until he feels the end of his dick slip into the back of Hannibal's throat. Though the movement is controlled and careful, he knows he's nearly completely cutting off Hannibal's airway, that any amount of air Hannibal might be able to draw won't be enough to remotely fill his lungs. He stays in place for a long moment, moving his hand to brush his fingers over Hannibal's cheek, past the corner of Hannibal's mouth, stretched around Will's cock. He can see Hannibal's body fighting instinctually to survive, though his expression is calm, his eyes beginning to bulge slightly, face going red, and they both know either of them could live or die in this moment, that they both have the will and the power to take the other's life.
But they both know that's not what they want tonight, likely not for a long while. When he feels Hannibal's hands beginning to shake, his fingertips curling to bite lightly against the skin of Will's ass, Will eases back, pulling all the way out of Hannibal's mouth so he can gasp in lungfuls of precious oxygen, can catch his breath before they dive back in for more.
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Date: 2016-10-15 04:28 am (UTC)Then Will's cock is out of his mouth, and Hannibal sags slightly as his lungs reflexively expand to suck in as much oxygen as possible. he leans forward and rests his forehead on Will's hip, his hands again settling lightly on Will's ass. He takes a couple breaths, enjoying the feeling of oxygen being reintroduced into his blood, his muscles, his brain. It's intoxicating, an aphrodisiac well known in medical literature, and one that makes Hannibal remember the night that Will's cat's paw hanged him. He remembers that first gasp after his rescue, the knowledge flooding in that Will had tried to kill him, and feeling only a deepened ardor for his friend.
He lifts his head to meet Will's eyes, his own burning with love infused with lust. His lips part slightly, and without his eyes leaving Will's he slowly brushes them back and forth against the head of Will's cock, waiting for his next move.
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Date: 2016-10-17 06:28 pm (UTC)It's at the same time humbling and arousing for Hannibal, Will thinks, to be reminded of his human mortality, of the fact that he can not only control life and death for others, but that his can be controlled as well. Of course, as crafty and skillful as Hannibal is, his end will only be met at the whim of a force of nature; Hannibal is an apex predator more so than any of his human counterparts, with the noted expression of the man at whose feet he's now sitting prostrate. If Will isn't the one to take his life, it will only otherwise be unyielding illness, or another such unrelenting act of God.
Will shivers at the sweet, gentle touch of Hannibal's lips against him, and he reaches down to stroke the backs of his fingers along Hannibal's cheek. In that moment he makes a promise, to himself, that as long as he draws breath he won't let Hannibal succumb to a death less than the one he deserves. If he hadn't already planned to spend the rest of his life at Hannibal's side, Will would vow to do so now, if only to be there to snatch Hannibal's end away from the rude, unrepentant hands of fate. Hannibal's dark, unearthly beauty must be shared until his body returns to dust, and Will won't allow something as careless, and dull as cancer or heart disease to carry his paramour from this world into the next.
Likewise he won't let this, the first time Hannibal submits as Will's lover, to occur here in the middle of the floor. It's not that it doesn't have its appeal, fucking on their knees like animals, taking each other wherever they come together, unwilling to spend the seconds required to find a more comfortable location. But Will knows there will plenty of time (and desire) for that later. Tonight he wants extravagance, he wants to build memories of them laid out on expensive sheets, of collapsing heavily and sleeping deeply only to wake up and find each other again.
Hooking his fingers at Hannibal's nape, Will urges him to stand with a slight tug and a flick of his eyes across the room. "Come to bed," he says, his voice husky from lust and lack of use and barely contained patience.
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Date: 2016-10-23 05:17 am (UTC)Hannibal rises as bidden, and nods, stepping to the bed. He moves the bag with their purchases to the night table and takes out the lubricant, discarding the packaging and making sure it is ready for when it is needed. Then he turns and raises his eyebrows, questioning and playful.
"How do you wish me to position myself?"