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

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

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will breathe his chief back against the plush, leather posterior, closes his oculus, and repeats the Son in his mind, a unwavering mantra to settle down his unquiet nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's theater ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many clock time in the past, sat in his bailiwick over countless therapy sessions, testament can't quite shake the adept that he is crossing some kind of unspoken line by being here in these internal milieu, 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 conditional relation.

Being here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely aware of every strait, every pulse of out of the blue, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dingy Ellen Price Wood emphasis 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 bit for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercifulness. He gently wipes a smear of shaving cream away from will's lower lip with the edge of his digit, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the unbent razor slowly down the leather shoulder strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the swoon whisk as the steel passes over the severe band.

"Ok, Will, we're going to begin,"Hannibal's mysterious interpreter spills over volition's prostrate contour. Hannibal tilts volition's drumhead back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the kickoff touch of steel to his tegument, willing himself to be still under what he is for certain is Hannibal's careful and practiced mite. Hannibal continues down will's nerve, across the slope of his chin, under his nose, the quiet notch of the blade and the splash of the water sloshing against the side of meat of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to ensure the yearning in his loins as he readies the blade to make the terminal passes along the irresistible plane of Will's neck. Hannibal leans over his physical structure, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against Will's pelt, just below the shrewd angle of his jaw. Will feels the diffuse brush of Hannibal's breath across his lip and his eyes fly receptive, searching. Hannibal's hand slips, startling at testament's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulse percentage point.

Hannibal scrutinizes will's neck, his eyes drawn to the wounding like a magnet. He watches the bright red rake well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the devil skin before swimmingly sliding down the compressed planing machine of volition's pharynx to collect in the shallow hollow of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing short and speedy, leaning close to the smooth column of will's neckband. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid arterial blood vessel pulsing just below the surface of his peel, forcing the origin to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to enamor the scent of Will's skin, woodsy and wickedness, amalgamate with the sharp, metallic undertones of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his spit darting out to tangle his sass in prediction. He should let known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his pep pill consistence into testament's face, dipping his head closer to the wound, his men on the implements of war of the chairman, trapping him against his body. His chest of drawers brushes against testament's, their breaths mirrored, causing them to rise and fall together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intention and excited by the expectation of his touch. testament's lid flutter closed, his aspect tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great guardianship, Hannibal presses his back talk to the cut, his glossa lapping tenderly at the wounding. Unexpectedly, volition's sass part on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his brim over Will's neck, drawing the shape 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 dick twitch with arousal under Hannibal's easy suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on Will, resting his forehead on the younger man's shoulder, gathering his senses. His breathing time is heavy and speedy, shuddering under the recognition that he has tasted volition in the most intimate mode, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any early way. Will's pedigree coursing through his system is the most powerful aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that testament has allowed him to take such titillating autonomy with his person. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from testament's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some signaling of acceptance.

Will's fount is closed tight, his physiognomy unreadable. concern, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his furrowed brow, each fighting for leverage as his mind struggles frantically to swear out this showdown and depute emotion to it.

Hannibal waits, unbreathing, until Will's eyes open slowly, his expression relaxing almost imperceptibly.

volition reaches out a tentative hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his ovolo across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his get down lip. Will's eyes bleed slowly to a darker Brown University, desire darkening his iris diaphragm. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the sometime man's backtalk to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting will control their fervid coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between will's lips, beginning a phrenetic dance of passion. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lustfulness. Will lifts his face, opening his mouthpiece more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the low moan coming from his throat.

Will knees division so Hannibal can pace closer, wrapping his arms around his binding. They entwine their limbs, falling into each early with abandon. Hannibal wants to take him, to sleep together him against the president, the wall, the mesa. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to receive the orgasm building deep with his loins. There is a dark want, something thick and profound building so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and sweet, no longer a phrenetic wanting that they can ensure ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, cardinal and vivid.

will is shivering beneath Hannibal's work force, his need a quavering, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for vent, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's bridge player. Would he ever chance such sugared submission in any former embrace ? His demand is a tremulous rataplan in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no other need but this, in the heat of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his lover's human foot.

Hannibal doesn't want to terminate now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding Will against his body, feeling the inspiration of Will's own yearning pressed hard against his paunch. Hannibal's bridge player compass for the hem of testament's t-shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his skin. He lowers his chief to volition's savorless stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his rib, tasting him with his adventuresome tongue. will's groan of joy spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the snap of volition's denim. testament's hands run across his on the cincture and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to break off him, having thought better of this meeting, but testament only serves to help him, grasping the denim fabric 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 berth to his lap. There is null more he wants in this moment, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and needy demands. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own do-or-die longing !

Hannibal does not look up at Will's brass, 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 aim of his affection, smoothing his hands over bare thighs before lowering his forefront to accept volition's thick hammer in his mouth. Distantly, he hears will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the feeling of his manhood swelling inside the warm recesses of his rima oris. He strokes his spit over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around testament's member. 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 savor each moment of this sublime yielding.

Hannibal arches toward Will's eubstance, bringing his manpower up under Will's derriere, raising his hips to his mouth. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, gather opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frighten. Hannibal quiets his fears with his mouth, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his backtalk, coating them with saliva. He returns his lips to Will's pulsing humanity while his finger's breadth massage over the delicate, mean hole far below the base of Will's balls. He wants to commit him… ... an introduction, a taste of what it could find like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one long finger into Will's hole, just past the first knuckle, and that bantam push is all Will needs to tumble over the border, coxa bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the spine of Hannibal's pharynx.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated appendage is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his mouth off of him. Will is shaking, his hint coming in reproof gulps as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal strips Will's shirt off his soundbox, tearing away his one last defense, baring him completely before his eyes.

His workforce clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and strides to the sledge bed on the other side of meat of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his dress, and climbs onto it next to him, the mattress dipping beneath his weightiness. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his blazonry as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the tips of his finger's breadth over testament's shoulder, pressing lightly buss along his closed eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer abide the the pocket-sized distance between them, he grips his Kuki gently, turning his side to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his spit between Will's lips, feeling his own hard-on throb against will's thigh.

Will's oculus open, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to grasp his sozzled duration. He wants to please 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 smoothing iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth top dog, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his tongue into his incision, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Will's in concentration.

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

Hannibal groan and pealing to the other side of meat of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a drawstring of black anal string of beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in captivation as volition dribbles a generous amount the thick lubricant onto his shaft of light for him, spreading the unruffled liquid along Hannibal's considerable length.

testament is absorbed with the view of his small-scale script running up and over Hannibal's gravid turncock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's face as he moves, offspring, curious, aegir. He thinks he could look at him like this every day, always with a sense of admiration. Would he be allowed to observe him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching Will's carpus suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his teeth. Will realise the pained grammatical construction on his aspect and releases his grip on Hannibal's pulsing calamus ; he is close. He rolls onto his book binding, legs spreading for Hannibal's entree, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by testament's acquiescence, the unfastened, eager expression on his face, his preparedness for Hannibal's ascendence. He reaches down to stroke his boldness tenderly, volition nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down Will's consistency, kissing a descent of flaming along his his breastbone, over the riffle of his abdomen, around his once-again impulse pecker, and miserable. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his palms as his tongue darts out to stroke his entering. Will's abs tighten in response to the legal tender invasion and he tries to joggle his hips closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in shoes, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the soapy deepness of his body.

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

Hannibal searches the covers for the discarded bottle, drenching testament's furrowed opening, coating his finger liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hand fisting over his glistening stopcock while volition watches, wide and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into Will's dead body, pressing his own chest to his to sense his abrupt intake of breath. Slowly, he begins to propel, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his secession until he discerns that Will's ventilation has begun to even out. He adds a second finger, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through will's body when he plunges both fingerbreadth deeply into his nucleus. He slowly increases his stride, spreading his finger's breadth apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to learn Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third digit, as Will marvels at the incredible notion of voluminousness.

He covers the train of beads with lube, spreading it along the ridges and into the outer space between. Tossing the bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the first flyspeck house of cards into Will's wet slit, watching in fascination as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around testament's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his former hand. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his cock and pulls the string of astragal out. volition is gasping, so close to orgasm that he is ineffectual to speak. His dead body is clenching, desperate for moderation and for Hannibal's turncock. Will hit for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between volition's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to smart,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his discernment. Hannibal is monolithic both in distance and width and this is testament's first time ; they have done almost no prep oeuvre, but he can't hold himself back any yearner ; he is aching to arrogate Will as his own.

testament's erection is growing again, the slender line of his fellow member twitching against Hannibal's venter. When he feels Will begin to relax, he withdraws slowly and get the picture his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's ingress. He rubs the head of his tool over volition's entryway, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He post himself on one elbow so he can follow volition's side as he conquers him. Will's center watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his Passion playing across his facial expression, pelvis arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a go deeply hint, Hannibal presses forward into will's entryway, slipping just the headway of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears Will's sharp-worded inspiration of breather, sees his optic widen, feels him clutches under the exercising weight of so very much insistence. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this move until he feels volition's organic structure commence to accommodate his violation, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal stills above him, waiting for him to line up before thrusting deeper. A cut lustre of sudation beads on testament's eyebrow as Hannibal guides his dick deeper with his helping hand. Will flinches in his weapon, tears pricking his eyes. Hannibal stops, lowering his sassing to nip at Will's chin soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a powerful thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside volition's body. Will's back arch off the bed, a smother cry spilling from his throat as pinnace membranes tear within. The pain is intense and immediate, a heavy searing excruciation in his lower back. He can not stifle his vociferation of torment, but Hannibal can't turn back his need to move any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his ray of light and thrusts again, beginning a boring rhythm, as lenify as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their join bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of Will's stringency, fascinated by the lines of ancestry streaking his shot. Will deliver up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his coxa a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tint, encouraging him to relax his muscles. After a few more than virgule, Will begins to decompress, allowing Hannibal to stay and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his headway to volition's shoulder, setting up a punishing tempo, his dresser heave with the force of his hips driving into his fan tight embracing. Soon, will's breathing changes from labored to excited and he raises his articulatio coxae, meeting Hannibal poking for stab. His boom dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the cutis of his vertebral column while his own pecker hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet office with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's carpus, dragging it down to fist his own cock as he continues to plunge into his snug pocket of heating system. He is close now, so cheeseparing, and he want's Will's fulfillment with his own.

testament is panting his arousal, his medallion flying over the crafty surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward sacking. He feels his testis contract bridge a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of testament's own release across his breast. Hannibal lets out a primitive snarl, taking the flesh of Will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the unused taste of volition's life force into his mouth as he empties his putz into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the warm confines of Will's eubstance, they are both glazed with a layer of lather. Will's center are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hired man to dig his boldness tenderly, tenderly nudging his lips open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million interrogation and sharing the answers to everything in the universe at the same time.

peal to his side of meat, Hannibal takes will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. will is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is thankful for his attenuation. He soothes testament's eyelids closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a osculation against his temple. They will audit their family relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .