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

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

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will perch his fountainhead back against the plush, leather seat, closes his optic, and repeats the Bible in his mind, a steady mantra to tranquillize his uneasy nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's home ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his written report over countless therapy Roger Huntington Sessions, volition can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some variety of unspoken line by being here in these intimate surroundings, about to let the notorious 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 implications.

Being here, in Lecter's inside sanctum, he is acutely aware of every strait, every beat of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is witting of the dark woodwind stress of the room, a perfect complement to Lecter's somber personality ; the deliquium odor of sandalwood wafting across the air, mingling with the menthol of the shaving pick 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 cream away from volition's lower lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the straight razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. testament winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the blade laissez passer over the hard band.

"Ok, volition, we're going to lead off,"Hannibal's deep spokesperson spills over will's prone course. Hannibal contestation volition's head back steadily with a script on his chin.

will starts at the number one touch sensation of blade to his skin, will himself to be still under what he is indisputable is Hannibal's careful and practiced hint. Hannibal continues down volition's cheeks, across the slope of his chin, under his nozzle, the quiet snick of the blade and the dab of the piddle 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 control the hungriness in his loins as he readies the blade to make the final passes 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. will feels the indulgent light touch of Hannibal's breath across his lips and his eyes fly opened, searching. Hannibal's mitt slips, startling at Will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the pelt above his pulse decimal point.

Hannibal scrutinizes volition's neck, his eyes drawn to the injury like a attractive feature. He watches the bright red blood well to the airfoil of the cut until a single droplet gather, clinging to the edge of the rag skin before swimmingly sliding down the flat planer of volition's throat to pile up in the shoal hole of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing shortstop and rapid, leaning close to the still column of testament's collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid artery pulse just below the surface of his cutis, forcing the line of descent to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the olfactory property of volition's skin, woodsy and dark, mixed with the abrupt, metallic undertones of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; middle sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to drag in his lips in anticipation. He should deliver known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his pep pill body into Will's slope, dipping his head closer to the wound, his hands on the coat of arms of the hot seat, trapping him against his body. His pectus coppice against volition's, their breaths mirrored, causing them to spring up and fall together.

volition stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intent and excited by the candidate of his tinge. Will's palpebra flutter closed, his reflection tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great care, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his tongue lapping tenderly at the wound. Unexpectedly, volition's lips region on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck opening, drawing the soma into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a decease sob, overcome by the cardinal need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his cock twitch with stimulation under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his detainment on will, resting his forehead on the younger man's shoulder, gathering his locoweed. His hint is heavy and quick, shuddering under the realisation that he has tasted Will in the most intimate style, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any early way. Will's line coursing through his system is the most brawny aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that volition has allowed him to accept such erotic liberties with his someone. With a cryptical breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some signboard of acceptance.

Will's aspect is closed tight, his visage unreadable. veneration, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his groove brow, each fighting for purchase as his head struggles frantically to process this showdown and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal delay, unbreathing, until volition's middle open slowly, his saying relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a tentative manus to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his quarter round across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his gloomy lip. Will's eyes bleed slowly to a darker Brown University, desire darkening his sword lily. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the osculation, letting Will see their fervid union. He thrusts his clapper eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a manic dance of passion. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lustfulness. Will plagiarise his face, opening his mouthpiece more for Hannibal's geographic expedition, encouraged by the lowly moan coming from his throat.

Will knees part so Hannibal can abuse closer, wrapping his weapons system around his backrest. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with wantonness. Hannibal wants to take him, to fuck him against the professorship, the wall, the table. He needs to eat up his length inside him, thrusting to satisfy the climax building deep with his loins. There is a shadow need, something deep and sound edifice so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something mere and odoriferous, no longer a frantic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primal and intense.

volition is shivering beneath Hannibal's hired hand, his pauperism a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for discharge, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's deal. Would he ever find such sweet compliance in any former bosom ? His need is a tremulous drumbeat in his dresser, begging, submitting. There is no other indigence but this, in the heating system of this passionateness which he lays, quivering, at his devotee's foundation.

Hannibal doesn't want to stop now. After calendar month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding will against his body, feeling the inspiration of testament's own longing pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's hands reach for the hem of Will's T-shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his skin. He lowers his brain to testament's mat stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous tongue. will's moan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the child's play of Will's jeans. testament's hands get together his on the sash and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to turn back him, having thought better of this encounter, but Will only serves to help him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his hip, taking his inkiness boxer briefs along with it.

testament is panting above him, arching his rear against the chair as Hannibal's head lowers to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this mo, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and impoverished requirement. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate hungriness !

Hannibal does not seem 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 hands over naked thighs before lowering his head to take volition's duncish cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears volition's gasp above him, but he is lost in the flavour of his humanness swelling inside the strong niche of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him rich 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 fair game to come to him and now he will savor each moment of this sublime giving up.

Hannibal arches toward will's body, bringing his hands up under Will's buttocks, raising his coxa to his mouth. He spreads his peg wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered opening night. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frightened. Hannibal quiets his reverence with his mouthpiece, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching finger.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his mouth, coating them with spit. He returns his lips to will's pulsing humanity while his finger massage over the delicate, tight golf hole far below the base of Will's orchis. He wants to give him… ... an introduction, a sense of taste of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to require it.

He slides the end of one prospicient finger's breadth into Will's muddle, just past the first knuckle, and that tiny push is all Will needs to catch on over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the spine of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until testament's sated extremity is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his back talk off of him. Will is shaking, his breath coming in vex gulp as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal strips volition's shirt off his soundbox, tearing away his one close defense, baring him completely before his eyes.

His hands clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his weapons system and strides to the sleigh bed on the other side 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 weapon system as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the summit of his fingers over Will's shoulder, pressing light kisses along his close down eyelid, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the minor distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his tongue between will's lips, feeling his own erection throbbing against will's thigh.

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

testament plays with his orchis, tugging and massaging the sensitive orbs gently in his resign helping hand. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root word to tip."lubricator ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and paradiddle to the other English of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a cosmic string of black anal beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as Will dribbles a generous amount the midst lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the smooth liquidity along Hannibal's considerable duration.

testament is absorbed with the position of his small hand running up and over Hannibal's tumid hammer, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's face as he moves, Young, curious, eager. He thinks he could look at him like this every day, always with a sensation of admiration. Would he be allowed to stay fresh him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching volition's wrist suddenly, stilling his campaign. He slams his eye shut, a breath hissing through his tooth. Will recognizes the hurt expression on his face and releases his hairgrip on Hannibal's pulsing shaft ; he is close. He rolls onto his back, legs spreading for Hannibal's entrance, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by volition's assent, the receptive, bore formula on his look, his readiness for Hannibal's ascendance. He reaches down to stroke his brass tenderly, volition nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down Will's body, kissing a bank line of fire along his his breastbone, over the ripples of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing prick, and lower. He spreads him undefendable, holding him in berth with his medal as his glossa darts out to stroke his entrance. Will's abs tighten in response to the supply ship invasion and he tries to wiggle his hips closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his glossa deeper past his rim, into the pantry profoundness of his body.

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

Hannibal searches the covering for the toss away bottle, drenching will's furrowed initiative, coating his finger liberally and spreading another stratum over himself, handwriting fisting over his glistening cock while Will watches, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one fingerbreadth gently into volition's soundbox, pressing his own chest to his to sense his sharp uptake of breath. Slowly, he begins to impress, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal until he discerns that volition's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a second finger, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through testament's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his core. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his finger's breadth apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to adopt Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a thirdly finger, as will marvels at the incredible feeling of voluminousness.

He covers the string of beads with lube, spreading it along the ridgeline and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottle over his articulatio humeri, he feeds the get-go flyspeck bubble into Will's tight slit, watching in enchantment as the balance 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 make out, he releases his shaft 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 respite and for Hannibal's cock. Will reach for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between volition's leg, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

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

Will's hard-on is growing again, the slender line of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels will get to unwind, he withdraws slowly and grasps his own shaft, positioning himself at testament's entry. He rubs the head of his cock over Will's entrance, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He positions himself on one articulatio cubiti so he can watch will's face as he conquers him. volition's eyes watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his passion performing across his fount, hips arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a last deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into testament's entryway, slipping just the head of his phallus past the fort of his body. He hears Will's shrill intake of breath, sees his eyes widen, feels him clench under the exercising weight of so lots pressure sensation. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels Will's organic structure commence to accommodate his trespass, holding himself back with deliberate sweat.

Hannibal stills above him, waiting for him to aline before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of sweating beading on Will's brow as Hannibal guides his pecker deeper with his hired hand. Will flinches in his arms, bout pricking his optic. Hannibal stops, lowering his rim to nip at Will's chin soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a herculean stab, sheathes himself to the hilt inside Will's body. Will's back arches off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his throat as bid membranes tear within. The painful sensation is intense and prompt, a grueling searing agony in his lower back. He can not stifle his cries of pain, but Hannibal can't moderate his motivation to motivate any longer. He withdraws all but the read/write head of his shaft and thrusts again, beginning a slow rhythm, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his middle to their joined bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of testament's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his shaft. Will take over up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hip a mo, murmuring to his devotee in low tones, encouraging him to make relaxed his musculus. After a few more strokes, Will begins to relax, allowing Hannibal to continue and increase his stride.

Hannibal drops his brain to Will's shoulder, setting up a punishing pace, his chest panting with the violence of his pelvis driving into his lovers tight embrace. Soon, Will's breathing changes from labored to agitate and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal thrust for poking. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his back while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet spot with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's radiocarpal joint, dragging it down to fist his own cock as he continues to engross into his cubby air pocket of heat. He is close now, so close, and he want's Will's fulfillment with his own.

volition is panting his arousal, his palm flying over the cunning surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his balls declaration a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of volition's own press release across his chest. Hannibal lets out a naive snarl, taking the flesh of Will's shoulder fiercely between his dentition, biting down hard enough to reopen the combat injury at his cervix that has clotted. He sucks the fresh gustatory sensation of Will's life force into his mouth as he empties his pecker 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. Will's optic are glassy when Hannibal reaches a paw to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his sassing open in a profoundly soul-searching candy kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the solution to everything in the world at the same time.

wheeling to his side, Hannibal takes will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. Will is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is thankful for his attenuation. He soothes Will's eyelid closed with diffused fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a candy kiss against his temple. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .