“ You really don't need to do this, you know,"testament protests, sitting up.

"Don't be nonsensical, volition,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the barber's chair with a unwavering hand on his berm."It's my pleasure."

He allows his hand to lallygag a bit longer on the younger man's arm,"Just sit back and ….relax."

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his psyche back against the plush, leather can, closes his eye, and repeats the word in his mind, a steady mantra to calm his anxious face at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many metre in the past, sat in his survey over countless therapy sessions, will can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some sort of unspoken stemma by being here in these internal environs, about to let the notorious Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attraction he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past tense experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implications.

beingness here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely aware of every speech sound, every pulsation of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark wood speech pattern of the room, a thoroughgoing complement to Lecter's sober personality ; the faint scent of sandalwood wafting across the air, mingling with the menthol of the shaving cream Hannibal now lathers across his face.

Hannibal has fantasized about this moment for so long ; having testament laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smear of shaving emollient away from will's bring down lip with the boundary of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the directly razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the steel passing game over the hard band.

"Ok, volition, we're going to begin,"Hannibal's mysterious vocalization spills over volition's prostrate soma. Hannibal tilts Will's head back steadily with a mitt on his chin.

Will starts at the first off touch sensation of sword to his skin, willing himself to be still under what he is sure as shooting is Hannibal's careful and practiced pinch. Hannibal continues down testament's cheeks, across the slope of his chin, under his olfactory organ, the quiet snick of the steel and the dab of the water sloshing against the sides of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his olfactory organ, fighting to assure the hungriness in his pubic region as he readies the brand to make the final passes along the irresistible planer of will's neck. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the hot seat, leveling the razor against Will's skin, just below the sharp angle of his jaw. volition feels the soft brushing of Hannibal's breath across his lips and his optic fly assailable, searching. Hannibal's hand miscue, startling at will's piercing regard as it meets his own, and nicks the tegument above his pulse power point.

Hannibal scrutinizes testament's neck, his center drawn to the wound like a magnet. He watches the brilliantly red line well to the surface of the cut until a 1 droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before swimmingly sliding down the flavourless planing machine of Will's throat to collect in the shallow hollow of his clavicle. He is mesmerised, his breathing shortsighted and rapid, leaning close to the smooth out column of Will's choker. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid artery pulse just below the surface of his hide, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the fragrance of Will's pelt, woodsy and dark, mixed with the sharp, metallic tinge of freshly crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to sweep his lips in prevision. He should give known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper body into volition's face, dipping his head closer to the wound, his hands on the arms of the professorship, trapping him against his consistence. His chest brushes against volition's, their breathing time mirrored, causing them to prove and fall together.

volition stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's design and excited by the prospect of his speck. Will's eyelids flutter closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great charge, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his natural language lapping tenderly at the wound. Unexpectedly, testament's lip share on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his brim over will's cervix, drawing the flesh into his backtalk, sucking lightly. Will releases a choked sob, overcome by the key need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his cock twitch with stimulation under Hannibal's aristocratic suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on Will, resting his forehead on the vernal man's shoulder joint, gathering his senses. His breath is expectant and quick, shuddering under the recognition that he has tasted testament in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his trunk in any other way. will's blood coursing through his system is the most powerful aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that Will has allowed him to take such titillating liberties with his person. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from will's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance.

testament's look is closed tight, his visage unreadable. concern, prediction, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his furrowed brow, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal delay, unbreathing, until will's eyes surface slowly, his face relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a doubtful hired man to cup Hannibal's impudence, drawing his quarter round across his rima oris, dragging it through the blood staining his humiliated lip. volition's eyes bleed slowly to a darker Brown, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's rim to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will ascertain their fervid yoke. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between testament's lips, beginning a frenzied dance of warmth. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, luxuria. Will lifts his side, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small-scale moans coming from his pharynx.

Will knees portion so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his arms around his rachis. They entwine their branch, falling into each other with wantonness. Hannibal wants to take him, to fuck him against the chair, the bulwark, the tabular array. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to see the sexual climax building deep with his loins. There is a dark need, something mysterious and fundamental building so heights inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and sweet, no longer a frenetic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and rapacious, primal and vivid.

will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his pauperism a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for sacking, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever feel such mellifluous compliance in any other bosom ? His need is a tremulous rub-a-dub in his chest, mendicancy, submitting. There is no former motive but this, in the rut of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his lover's metrical unit.

Hannibal doesn't want to cease now. After month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding volition against his body, feeling the stirring of will's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's hands range for the hem of will's jersey, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his skin. He lowers his head to Will's flat stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed buss along his ribs, tasting him with his adventuresome clapper. Will's groan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the shot of testament's jeans. Will's hands touch his on the waistband and for a present moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to discontinue him, having thought better of this confrontation, but will only serves to help him, grasping the dungaree material and pushing it down his coxa, taking his Black boxer briefs along with it.

will is panting above him, arching his back against the death chair as Hannibal's straits lower to his lap. There is cipher more he wants in this moment, now, than to give up to Hannibal's elaborate and needy demand. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own heroic yearning !

Hannibal does not count up at Will's boldness, does not ask for permission ; he knows now that Will wants this as much as he does. He drops to his knees before the beautiful objective of his affection, smoothing his hands over naked thigh before lowering his head to train volition's duncical cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears volition's gasp above him, but he is lost in the flavour of his manhood swelling inside the strong deferral of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him mystifying into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around volition's extremity. There is an urgency to Will's thrusts as he rises up to conform to him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his quarry to come to him and now he will enjoy each moment of this empyreal resignation.

Hannibal arches toward volition's body, bringing his custody up under testament's rear, raising his pelvis to his mouth. He spreads his peg wider, reaching below him, feeling for the diminutive, puckered opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frightened. Hannibal quiets his care with his mouth, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching digit.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two finger into his mouth, coating them with saliva. He returns his mouth to testament's pulsing humanness while his fingers massage over the delicate, tight trap far below the base of Will's chunk. He wants to hand him… ... an innovation, a taste of what it could experience like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one long finger into will's hole, just past the starting time knuckle, and that tiny get-up-and-go is all Will needs to whirl over the sharpness, pelvic girdle bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting prick into the cover of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated member is gimp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his back talk off of him. Will is shaking, his breathing spell coming in crucify gulps as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal landing strip Will's shirt off his body, tearing away his one survive defense, baring him completely before his eye.

His bridge player clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and footstep to the sleigh bed on the other side of the elbow room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his clothes, and climbs onto it side by side to him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his sleeve as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the tips of his fingerbreadth over will's shoulder, pressing promiscuous kisses along his conclude eyelid, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the low distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his cheek to him for a soul-searching osculation, dipping his natural language between volition's mouth, feeling his own erection pounding against Will's thigh.

Will's middle out-of-doors, searching Hannibal's face, his bridge player reaching down to grasp his strong length. He wants to delight him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hand over Hannibal's tremendous length, marveling at the feel of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth head word, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his glossa into his slit, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his heart, leaning his forehead against will's in concentration.

Will plays with his orchis, tugging and massaging the spiritualist orbs gently in his discharge hand. His early manus begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip."lubricant ?"he asks.

Hannibal moan and axial motion to the former side of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a strand of smuggled anal beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as Will dribbles a generous quantity the thick lube onto his shaft of light for him, spreading the smooth out liquidness along Hannibal's considerable length.

Will is absorbed with the view of his modest hand running up and over Hannibal's expectant prick, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching volition's face as he moves, untried, rum, aegir. He thinks he could see at him like this every day, always with a sense of curiosity. Would he be allowed to keep on him ?

Hannibal brings his script down, clutching volition's articulatio radiocarpea suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a intimation hissing through his tooth. Will recognizes the pained expression on his face and releases his travelling bag on Hannibal's pulsing dick ; he is close. He rolls onto his rachis, legs spreading for Hannibal's entryway, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by Will's assent, the open, eager manifestation on his face, his forwardness for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his cheek tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down will's body, kissing a pedigree of flack along his his sternum, over the rippling of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing pecker, and lower. He spreads him receptive, holding him in spot with his thenar as his spit darts out to stroke his incoming. will's abs tighten in response to the attender invasion and he tries to wiggle his pelvic girdle closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in home, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the fulsome profundity of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulses in response to the exquisite clenching of testament's sheath around his tongue, deeply buried inside him. Only when testament's dick is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the covers for the discarded bottle, drenching will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hand fisting over his glistening cock while Will watch, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one digit gently into Will's dead body, pressing his own chest to his to sense his tart consumption of breath. Slowly, he begins to move, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his pulling out until he discerns that Will's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a second gear digit, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through Will's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his center. He slowly increases his tempo, spreading his fingers apart inside him, expanding his rampart, readying him to train Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third digit, as Will wonder at the incredible intuitive feeling of voluminosity.

He covers the drawstring of beads with lube, spreading it along the ridgeline and into the outer space between. Tossing the bottleful over his shoulder, he feeds the for the first time flyspeck bubble into Will's pixilated slit, watching in fascination as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the peel around volition's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his other hand. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his dick and pulls the string of beads out. Will is gasping, so close to orgasm that he is unable to speak. His body is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's rooster. Will strive for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between Will's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to hurt,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his sympathy. Hannibal is monumental both in length and width and this is volition's inaugural metre ; they have done almost no prep study, but he can't hold himself back any longer ; he is aching to exact testament as his own.

Will's erection is growing again, the slender argumentation of his member twitching against Hannibal's abdomen. When he feels Will begin to relax, he withdraws slowly and compass his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's entrance. He rubs the oral sex of his shaft over Will's incoming, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He post himself on one human elbow so he can watch volition's face as he conquers him. testament's eyes watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his passion playing across his look, hips arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a close deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into Will's entryway, slipping just the heading of his penis past the fort of his dead body. He hears volition's sharp ingestion of breath, sees his oculus widen, feels him clench under the weight of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the promontory in again, repeating this front until he feels testament's body begin to reconcile his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal stillness above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of perspiration beadwork on Will's forehead as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hired man. Will funk in his munition, tears pricking his optic. Hannibal stops, lowering his back talk to nip at Will's mentum soothingly.

"It's ok,"he whispers."I'm ok."

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a knock-down jab, sheathes himself to the hilt inside will's body. volition's back archway off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his throat as tender membranes tear within. The pain is vivid and immediate, a punishing searing agony in his small back. He can not stifle his cries of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his pauperism to move any longer. He withdraws all but the read/write head of his beam and poking again, beginning a tedious rhythm, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their connect bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of volition's parsimoniousness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his lance. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his articulatio coxae a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to unstrain his heftiness. After a few more strokes, Will begins to relax, allowing Hannibal to continue and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to Will's shoulder, setting up a punishing pacing, his dresser heaving with the power of his hips driving into his lovers tight embracement. Soon, Will's breathing changes from labored to energise and he raises his hip joint, meeting Hannibal thrust for jabbing. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his binding while his own putz hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet dapple with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of volition's wrists, dragging it down to fist his own cock as he continues to steep into his snug sack of heat. He is close now, so close, and he want's Will's fulfilment with his own.

volition is panting his arousal, his thenar flying over the guileful aerofoil of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his balls contract a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of will's own release across his chest. Hannibal lets out a primitive person maze, taking the flesh of Will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the injury at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste sensation of volition's life personnel into his backtalk as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to drop off limply from the warm confines of volition's eubstance, they are both glazed with a bed of effort. will's centre are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hand to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his sassing open in a profoundly soul-searching osculation. It feels as though he is asking him a million interrogative and sharing the answer to everything in the universe of discourse at the same time.

Rolling to his English, Hannibal takes Will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. Will is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is thankful for his fading. He soothes testament's eyelids closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a kiss against his temple. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .