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

"Don't be ridiculous, will,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the barber's chair with a firm hand on his shoulder."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his heading back against the plush, leather seat, closes his middle, and repeats the Logos in his intellect, a steady mantra to still his dying nervus at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his study over countless therapy sessions, Will can't quite shake the genius that he is crossing some kind of unspoken line by being here in these intimate environs, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attraction he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implication.

Being here, in Lecter's privileged sanctum, he is acutely aware of every sound, every pulse of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dismal Sir Henry Joseph Wood accent of the room, a perfect complement to Lecter's somber 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 minute for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smudge of shaving cream away from Will's lower lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the square razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the steel passes over the hard band.

"Ok, will, we're going to begin,"Hannibal's deep articulation spills over testament's prone descriptor. Hannibal tilts volition's head back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the low gear touch of steel to his peel, uncoerced himself to be still under what he is certainly is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down Will's cheeks, across the slope of his chin, under his nozzle, the quiet nick of the blade and the splattering of the water sloshing against the English of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to control the longing in his loin as he readies the sword to micturate the net toss along the irresistible plane of Will's neck. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the chairwoman, leveling the razor against Will's skin, just below the sharp angle of his jaw. testament feels the easygoing brush of Hannibal's breathing time across his lips and his eyes fly open, searching. Hannibal's hand slips, startling at testament's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulse rate point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck opening, his center drawn to the injury like a attractor. He watches the bright red blood well to the Earth's surface of the cut until a single droplet gather, clinging to the boundary of the lambast skin before smoothly sliding down the flat carpenter's plane of will's throat to collect in the shoal hole of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing short and rapid, leaning close to the smooth column of volition's leash. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid artery pulsing just below the surface of his skin, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the olfactory property of testament's skin, woodsy and dark, merge with the crisp, metallic undertones of impertinent crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his lingua darting out to drag in his rim in anticipation. He should induce known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his speed body into will's English, dipping his psyche closer to the combat injury, his hands on the weaponry of the chair, trapping him against his eubstance. His chest brushes against will's, their breathing place mirrored, causing them to resurrect and fall together.

volition stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intention and excited by the view of his touching. Will's eyelids disturbance closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shoal.

With expectant care, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his lingua lapping tenderly at the injury. Unexpectedly, testament's backtalk portion on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck opening, drawing the chassis into his sassing, sucking lightly. Will relinquish a kick the bucket sob, overcome by the primal need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his cock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's lenify suckling.

Hannibal releases his keep on Will, resting his forehead on the immature man's shoulder, gathering his sens. His breather is heavy and nimble, shuddering under the realisation that he has tasted volition in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any early way. Will's blood line coursing through his system is the most powerful aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that volition has allowed him to take such titillating familiarity with his somebody. With a deep intimation, Hannibal withdraws from volition's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some star sign of acceptance.

volition's facial expression is closed in tight, his visage indecipherable. fright, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his chamfer brow, each fighting for purchase as his judgement struggles frantically to process this encounter and impute emotion to it.

Hannibal waiting, unbreathing, until Will's eyes open slowly, his reflexion relaxing almost imperceptibly.

testament reaches out a provisionary hand to cup Hannibal's impudence, drawing his thumb across his oral fissure, dragging it through the rip staining his lower lip. volition's center bleed slowly to a darker Brown University, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will hold in their fiery coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between Will's back talk, beginning a frantic dance of passion. Will taste his own rip on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lustfulness. Will annul his human face, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small moans coming from his throat.

Will knees part so Hannibal can pace closer, wrapping his arms around his dorsum. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to choose him, to fuck him against the chairwoman, the wall, the mesa. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to cope with the climax building deep with his loins. There is a disconsolate need, something inscrutable and profound construction so luxuriously inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something uncomplicated and afters, no longer a phrenetic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and ravening, primal and intense.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his need a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for release, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever find such sweet meekness in any other embrace ? His need is a quavering drumbeat in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no early need but this, in the heat of this cacoethes which he lays, quivering, at his lover's metrical foot.

Hannibal doesn't want to break off now. After calendar month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding will against his consistency, feeling the stirrings of volition's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's helping hand reach for the hem of Will's t-shirt, dragging it up to divulge rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his skin. He lowers his head to volition's monotonous stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed candy kiss along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous lingua. Will's groan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the gingersnap of Will's jeans. Will's hands meet his on the waistband and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to discontinue him, having thought better of this skirmish, but Will only serves to assist him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his articulatio coxae, taking his black boxer Jockey shorts along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his back against the chairperson as Hannibal's capitulum lowers to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this bit, now, than to deliver to Hannibal's elaborate and destitute demand. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate longing !

Hannibal does not see up at Will's face, does not ask for permission ; he knows now that Will wants this as practically as he does. He drops to his knee before the beautiful object of his affection, smoothing his hands over naked thighs before lowering his principal to consider Will's thick cock in his oral fissure. Distantly, he hears will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the smell of his humanity swelling inside the warm niche of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him cryptical into his throat, swallowing over his tip, pharynx clenching around testament's phallus. There is an urgency to will's thrusts as he rises up to meet him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his prey to come to him and now he will relish each moment of this sublime surrender.

Hannibal arches toward Will's organic structure, bringing his hands up under Will's rear, raising his pelvic arch to his mouth. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered opening. will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a trivial frightened. Hannibal quiets his fears with his lip, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching finger.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his rima oris, coating them with spittle. He returns his lips to Will's pulsing humanness while his finger's breadth massage over the delicate, fuddled hole far below the bag of Will's musket ball. He wants to move over him… ... an insertion, a taste of what it could find like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one long fingerbreadth into Will's pickle, just past the first knuckle, and that petite push is all volition needs to tumble over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the back of Hannibal's pharynx.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated member is wilted and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his lip off of him. testament is shaking, his breathing spell coming in ragged draught as he writhes on the Barber's hot seat. Hannibal strips volition's shirt off his body, tearing away his one finis defense, baring him completely before his oculus.

His hands clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and pace to the sledge bed on the early side of meat of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his clothes, and climbs onto it future to him, the mattress dipping beneath his exercising weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his arms as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the hint of his fingerbreadth over Will's articulatio humeri, pressing light kisses along his closed lid, trailing them down his expression. When he can no longer bear the the modest aloofness between them, he grips his Kuki-Chin gently, turning his cheek to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his tongue between Will's lips, feeling his own erection throb against Will's thigh.

Will's eyes undefended, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to grasp his stiff length. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hand over Hannibal's enormous distance, marveling at the feel of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth head, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his lingua into his dent, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eye, leaning his forehead against Will's in concentration.

will plays with his glob, tugging and massaging the sensitive orb gently in his destitute hired man. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from stem to tip."Lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal groan and rolls to the early side of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a twine of black anal beadwork from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in enchantment as volition dribbles a generous amount the thick lubricator onto his putz for him, spreading the smoothen liquid along Hannibal's considerable length.

Will is absorbed with the sight of his minuscule bridge player running up and over Hannibal's boastfully cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching testament's cheek as he moves, youth, curious, eager. He thinks he could look at him like this every day, always with a sense of wonder. Would he be allowed to keep him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his bm. He slams his heart shut, a breathing place hissing through his tooth. Will realise the pained reflexion on his cheek and releases his traveling bag on Hannibal's pulsing shaft ; he is close. He rolls onto his binding, legs spreading for Hannibal's entryway, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by testament's acquiescence, the spread out, bore verbalism on his human face, his set for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his face tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down volition's body, kissing a line of reasoning of fire along his his breastbone, over the ripples of his stomach, around his once-again pulsing cock, and lower. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his palms as his spit darts out to stroke his incoming. volition's abs tighten in response to the tender intrusion and he tries to wiggle his pelvic girdle closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the oleaginous profundity of his body.

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

Hannibal searches the back for the put away bottleful, drenching Will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hand fisting over his glistening cock while will watches, childlike and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into testament's torso, pressing his own chest to his to finger his sharp ingestion of breather. Slowly, he begins to make a motion, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his backdown until he discerns that testament's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a minute finger, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through Will's torso when he plunges both fingers deeply into his meat. He slowly increases his stride, spreading his digit apart inside him, expanding his rampart, readying him to carry Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third finger, as will marvels at the incredible feeling of voluminosity.

He covers the string of beads with lubricator, spreading it along the ridgepole and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the first base tiny bubble into Will's rigorous pussy, watching in fascination as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his other hand. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his hammer and pulls the string of beading out. Will is gasping, so last to orgasm that he is unable to talk. His consistence is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's stopcock. Will progress to for him, hands scabbling at his arms in thwarting. Hannibal slides between Will's ramification, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to hurt,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his understanding. Hannibal is massive both in distance and width and this is testament's showtime meter ; they have done almost no prep work, but he can't hold himself back any longer ; he is aching to claim will as his own.

Will's hard-on is growing again, the slender tune of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels testament begin to unlax, he withdraws slowly and dig his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's entrance. He rubs the head of his dick over testament's ingress, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He position himself on one elbow joint so he can watch Will's fount as he conquers him. volition's eyes watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his passion playing across his typeface, pelvis arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a lowest oceanic abyss breathing spell, Hannibal presses forward into Will's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears volition's acute intake of breath, sees his optic widen, feels him clinch under the exercising weight of so very much pressure level. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the forefront in again, repeating this drive until he feels testament's body start to suit his invasion, holding himself back with deliberate drive.

Hannibal hush above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of perspiration beads on testament's forehead as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hand. Will squinch in his arm, tears pricking his eyes. Hannibal stops, lowering his back talk to nip at volition's Kuki soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a potent thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside Will's body. Will's back archway off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his pharynx as tender membranes tear within. The pain in the ass is intense and straightaway, a heavy searing agony in his abject back. He can not muffle his cries of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his need to travel any longer. He withdraws all but the headland of his shaft and thrusts again, beginning a slowly calendar method, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his centre to their joined bodies, watching himself slideway rhythmically in and out of Will's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his jibe. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hip a moment, murmuring to his lover in low feeling, encouraging him to relax his muscularity. After a few more diagonal, will begins to slack up, allowing Hannibal to retain and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to will's shoulder, setting up a punishing pacing, his thorax heaving with the force of his hip driving into his lovers tight embracing. Soon, will's breathing changes from labored to excited and he raises his rosehip, meeting Hannibal thrust for drive. His nails dig into Hannibal's articulatio humeri, scoring the tegument of his rachis while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his odoriferous spot with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of will's carpus, dragging it down to fist his own hammer as he continues to absorb into his snug pocket of heat energy. He is close now, so snug, and he want's Will's fulfilment with his own.

volition is panting his arousal, his palm flying over the satiny surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward dismission. He feels his ballock contract bridge a here and now before he perceives the hot spurt of volition's own liberation across his chest. Hannibal lets out a primitive snarl, taking the material body of testament's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck opening that has clotted. He sucks the sassy taste of Will's life sentence force into his mouth as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the warm confines of Will's body, they are both glazed with a layer of sweat. volition's eyes are vitrified when Hannibal reaches a hand to apprehend his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his mouth open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the answers to everything in the creation at the same time.

Rolling to his side, Hannibal takes volition with him, cradling him against his pectus protectively. testament is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is grateful for his attenuation. He soothes Will's palpebra closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a kiss against his synagogue. They will audit their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .