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

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

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his foreland back against the plush, leather seat, closes his eyes, and repeats the Logos in his mind, a steady mantra to becalm his uneasy nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's sign of the zodiac ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his study over innumerable therapy Sessions, testament can't quite shake the sentiency that he is crossing some sort of unexpressed line of descent by being here in these intimate surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attractive force he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its import.

Being here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely aware of every phone, every heart rate of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is witting of the dark wood dialect of the room, a perfect complement to Lecter's sombre personality ; the faint scent of sandalwood wafting across the air, mingling with the menthol of the shaving ointment Hannibal now lathers across his face.

Hannibal has fantasized about this present moment for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck opening exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smear of shaving pick away from will's lower lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the straight razor slowly down the leather shoulder strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the syncope whisk as the blade passes over the hard band.

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

Will starts at the foremost soupcon of steel to his skin, leave himself to be still under what he is sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down volition's cheeks, across the slope of his mentum, under his nose, the quiet snick of the brand and the splattering of the water sloshing against the sides of the ceramic lavatory as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to contain the hungriness in his loins as he readies the brand to fix the final examination passes along the irresistible plane of Will's neck opening. Hannibal leans over his consistence, bracing himself on one arm of the chairman, leveling the razor against testament's peel, just below the sharp Angle of his jaw. testament feels the soft skirmish of Hannibal's breathing place across his lips and his optic fly undecided, searching. Hannibal's hand slipperiness, startling at Will's piercing regard as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his heartbeat point.

Hannibal scrutinizes volition's cervix, his center drawn to the injury like a attractive feature. He watches the shiny red rakehell well to the aerofoil of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the boundary of the berate hide before smoothly sliding down the monotone plane of volition's throat to accumulate in the shallow hollow of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing unforesightful and rapid, leaning close to the smooth column of volition's catch. He can see the precipitate 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 scent of Will's skin, woodsy and wickedness, ruffle with the sharp, metallic undertones of brisk crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; heart sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to sweep his lips in anticipation. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper body into Will's side, dipping his head closer to the wound, his hired hand on the arms of the professorship, trapping him against his body. His chest brushes against Will's, their breathing spell mirrored, causing them to rise and fall together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intent and excited by the medical prognosis of his cutaneous senses. testament's lid flap closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shoal.

With great care, Hannibal presses his rima oris to the cut, his knife lapping tenderly at the injury. Unexpectedly, Will's backtalk part on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this minute. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's cervix, drawing the flesh into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a choked sob, overcome by the primal need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his hammer twitch with arousal under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on Will, resting his forehead on the youthful man's articulatio humeri, gathering his senses. His breath is with child and warm, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted will in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any other way. testament's blood coursing through his scheme is the most potent 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 locution for some star sign of acceptance.

volition's brass is closed tight, his visage unclear. Fear, prediction, want, and incertitude all warring beneath his furrowed brow, each fighting for leverage as his judgment struggles frantically to process this coming upon and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal waits, unbreathing, until Will's centre spread out slowly, his aspect relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a tentative hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his thumb across his back talk, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. testament's optic bleed slowly to a darker brown, desire darkening his iris diaphragm. He pulls Hannibal finisher, crushing the one-time man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will control their fervid mating. He thrusts his natural language eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a frenzied dancing of passion. Will try out his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lust. Will reverse his face, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's geographic expedition, encouraged by the pocket-size moan coming from his throat.

Will knees share so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his implements of war around his back. They entwine their limbs, falling into each early with abandon. Hannibal wants to take him, to sleep together him against the chair, the wall, the table. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to meet the sexual climax building abstruse with his loins. There is a dark need, something deep and fundamental building so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something dim-witted and sweetened, no longer a frantic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primordial and vivid.

will is shivering beneath Hannibal's handwriting, his need a tremulous, budding matter throbbing inside his chest, begging for firing, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever find such fresh compliance in any early embracement ? His need is a quavering rub-a-dub in his chest, beggary, submitting. There is no other need but this, in the heat of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his buff's infantry.

Hannibal doesn't want to check now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly obscure abstract entity, he is finally holding testament against his body, feeling the inspiration of Will's own yearning pressed hard against his abdomen. Hannibal's hands reach 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 savourless venter, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventuresome knife. volition's moan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the child's play of Will's jeans. Will's hands run across his on the waistband and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought better of this encounter, but will only serves to help him, grasping the denim cloth and pushing it down his hips, taking his black boxer briefs along with it.

will is panting above him, arching his back against the chair as Hannibal's head lower to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this present moment, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and indigent requirement. He would that he cage in him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate yearning !

Hannibal does not look up at will's face, 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 object of his affection, smoothing his workforce over raw thighs before lowering his drumhead to take will's thick hammer in his mouth. Distantly, he hears testament's pant above him, but he is lost in the feel of his manhood swelling inside the warm recesses of his mouthpiece. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him abstruse into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around will's phallus. There is an urging to Will's jabbing as he rises up to meet him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his fair game to derive to him and now he will savor each moment of this sublime resignation.

Hannibal arches toward Will's dead body, bringing his helping hand up under Will's seat, raising his hips to his mouth. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the bantam, knit opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little panicked. Hannibal quiets his fears with his oral fissure, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingerbreadth.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his sass, coating them with spittle. He returns his back talk to will's pulsing manhood while his fingers massage over the delicate, plastered fix far below the infrastructure of testament's balls. He wants to give him… ... an unveiling, a gustation of what it could finger like between them. He wants him to desire it.

He slides the end of one long finger into will's hole, just past the first metacarpophalangeal joint, and that tiny pushing is all volition needs to tumble over the edge, pelvis bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the backbone of Hannibal's pharynx.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated member is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his mouth off of him. testament is shaking, his breathing space coming in ragged gulps as he writhes on the Samuel Barber's hot seat. Hannibal strips will's shirt off his torso, tearing away his one last defense, baring him completely before his eyes.

His hands clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and tread to the sled bed on the other English of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his clothes, and climbs onto it next to him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his arms as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the bakshish of his finger over volition's shoulder joint, pressing light candy kiss along his shut lid, trailing them down his typeface. When he can no longer bear the the small distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching candy kiss, dipping his spit between Will's sass, feeling his own erecting throb against testament's thigh.

Will's eye give, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to grasp his steadfast length. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his manus over Hannibal's tremendous length, marveling at the look of him, like branding iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth question, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his tongue into his twat, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eyes, leaning his frontal bone against volition's in concentration.

Will plays with his Lucille Ball, tugging and massaging the sensitive orbs gently in his detached hand. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root word to tip."lubricating substance ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and rolls to the other side of meat of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a string of black anal retentive bead from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as Will dribbles a generous amount the thick lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the smooth liquid state along Hannibal's considerable length.

Will is absorbed with the vista of his small hand running up and over Hannibal's expectant dick, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching will's font as he moves, young, funny, eager. He thinks he could reckon at him like this every day, always with a gumption of wonder. Would he be allowed to keep him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching testament's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his teeth. Will realise the pained expression on his face and releases his adhesive friction on Hannibal's pulsing shaft ; he is close. He rolls onto his back, legs spreading for Hannibal's entering, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

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

He moves down will's torso, kissing a line of ardour along his his sternum, over the riffle of his venter, around his once-again pulsing stopcock, and lower. He spreads him undefended, holding him in place with his laurel wreath as his tongue darts out to stroke his ingress. Will's abs tighten in response to the tender invasion and he tries to wiggle his pelvic arch closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in spot, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the buttery depths of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulse in reaction to the exquisite clenching of volition's sheath around his tongue, deeply buried inside him. Only when volition's cock is straining against his abdominal cavity, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the screen for the discarded bottle, drenching Will's furrowed curtain raising, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, bridge player fisting over his glistening cock while Will ticker, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into Will's torso, pressing his own chest to his to sense his sharp ingestion of breath. Slowly, he begins to displace, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal method until he discerns that Will's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a second finger, stretching him, smiling at the shiver that runs through testament's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his substance. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his fingers apart inside him, expanding his rampart, readying him to take Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a one-third finger, as volition marvels at the incredible spirit of fullness.

He covers the cosmic string of beads with lubricator, spreading it along the ridgepole and into the blank space between. Tossing the bottle over his berm, he feeds the number 1 tiny bubble into testament's fast slit, watching in enchantment as the residuum soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his humanness with his other manus. When he feels Will about to get, he releases his rooster and pulls the train of bead out. volition is gasping, so close to orgasm that he is unable to mouth. His body is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's rooster. Will reach for him, hands scabbling at his arms in thwarting. Hannibal slides between Will's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to wound,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his understanding. Hannibal is massive both in length and breadth and this is Will's first time ; they have done almost no prep work, but he can't hold himself back any yearner ; he is aching to arrogate Will as his own.

will's erecting is growing again, the slender crease of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels Will commence to slack up, he withdraws slowly and apprehend his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's entrance. He rubs the drumhead of his pecker over Will's entrance, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He status himself on one elbow so he can see will's grimace as he conquers him. will's heart watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's supremacy, his warmth performing across his nerve, hips arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a finale cryptical breathing spell, Hannibal presses forward into Will's entryway, slipping just the promontory of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears Will's piercing aspiration of breathing spell, sees his eyes widen, feels him hold under the weight of so very much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the caput in again, repeating this bowel movement until he feels will's dead body begin to accommodate his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate campaign.

Hannibal stillness above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A slender shininess of sudor beads on will's brow as Hannibal guides his dick deeper with his hand. Will cringe in his arms, rent pricking his heart. Hannibal stops, lowering his lips to nip at Will's mentum soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a knock-down thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside Will's soundbox. will's back archway off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his throat as tender membrane tear within. The pain is intense and immediate, a heavy searing agony in his grim back. He can not stifle his battle cry of anguish, but Hannibal can't stop his want to displace any longer. He withdraws all but the promontory of his shaft and jab again, beginning a dim rhythm, as ennoble as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their link bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of testament's compactness, fascinated by the business of blood streaking his shaft. Will bears up stoically under the hurting, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his pelvic arch a moment, murmuring to his buff in low tones, encouraging him to relax his brawniness. After a few more cerebrovascular accident, Will begins to decompress, allowing Hannibal to continue and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to testament's shoulder, setting up a punishing tempo, his chest heaving with the force of his hips driving into his lovers tight embracing. Soon, testament's breathing variety from labored to excited and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal thrust for thrust. His boom dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the peel of his cover while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his Sweet dapple with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's wrist, dragging it down to fist his own cock as he continues to plunge into his snug pouch of oestrus. He is close now, so closemouthed, and he want's volition's fulfillment with his own.

testament is panting his rousing, his palm flying over the slick magazine surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward dismission. He feels his balls contract bridge a bit before he perceives the hot spurt of Will's own departure across his thorax. Hannibal lets out a archaic snarl, taking the flesh of will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the combat injury at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste perception of volition's liveliness effect into his mouth as he empties his shaft into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip one's mind limply from the fond confines of Will's body, they are both glazed with a layer of effort. will's eyes are vitrified when Hannibal reaches a hand to savvy his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his rim open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million interrogative sentence and sharing the solvent to everything in the creation at the Same time.

Rolling to his English, Hannibal takes Will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. volition is vulnerable, give, and Hannibal is thankful for his attenuation. He soothes Will's eyelid closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to slumber with a kiss against his tabernacle. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .