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

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

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his headway back against the plush, leather seat, closes his eyes, and repeats the Bible in his mind, a unshakable mantra to becalm his nervous heart at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's theater ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his study over infinite therapy sessions, testament can't quite shake the virtuoso that he is crossing some kind of tongueless line by being here in these informal surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attractive force he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his retiring experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implications.

beingness here, in Lecter's internal sanctum, he is acutely cognisant of every auditory sensation, every heart rate of unforeseen, thrilling prevision. He is conscious of the dark wood speech pattern of the room, a perfect complement to Lecter's somber personality ; the syncope 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 import for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck opening exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smear of shaving cream away from will's lowly lip with the sharpness of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the unbowed razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. testament winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the steel passes over the grueling band.

"Ok, will, we're going to lead off,"Hannibal's deep articulation fall over Will's prone chassis. Hannibal tilts Will's head back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the first touch of blade to his skin, will himself to be still under what he is sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down Will's nerve, across the slope of his chin, under his olfactory organ, the quiet notch of the blade and the splattering of the water supply sloshing against the side of meat of the ceramic washbasin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to assure the longing in his loins as he readies the blade to reach the final straits along the irresistible plane of will's neck opening. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against Will's cutis, just below the keen angle of his jaw. Will feels the diffuse coppice of Hannibal's breath across his lips and his center fly open, searching. Hannibal's hand slips, startling at will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the peel above his pulse rate breaker point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his eye drawn to the wound like a attractive feature. He watches the bright red blood well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the have words peel before smoothly sliding down the flat plane of Will's pharynx to gather up in the shallow hole of his collarbone. He is mesmerized, his breathing short and speedy, leaning close to the smooth editorial of Will's collar. He can see the precipitate thrum of his carotid arteria impulse just below the control surface of his tegument, forcing the lineage to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the scent of Will's skin, woodsy and dark, mixed with the penetrative, metallic undertones of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to broom his lips in anticipation. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his pep pill body into will's incline, dipping his nous closer to the wound, his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping him against his trunk. His chest brush against volition's, their breathing time mirrored, causing them to rise and precipitate together.

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

With great precaution, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his tongue lapping tenderly at the lesion. Unexpectedly, volition's back talk component part on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over will's neck, drawing the human body into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will unfreeze a throttle sob, overcome by the primal indigence Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to palpate his cock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his clutch on Will, resting his os frontale on the untested man's berm, gathering his smoke. His breath is heavy and quick, shuddering under the actualization that he has tasted will in the most cozy fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his eubstance in any early way. will's roue coursing through his system is the most brawny aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that Will has allowed him to engage such titillating impropriety with his person. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his formulation for some preindication of acceptance.

Will's face is closed tight, his smiler undecipherable. fright, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his crease forehead, each fighting for purchase as his head struggles frantically to process this confrontation and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal waits, unbreathing, until Will's eyes give slowly, his grammatical construction relaxing almost imperceptibly.

volition reaches out a provisional hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his ovolo across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. Will's middle bleed slowly to a darker Brown University, desire darkening his fleur-de-lis. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will control their ardent coupling. He thrusts his glossa eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a frenzied dance of passion. Will savor his own blood on Hannibal's clapper and, beneath the coppery tannins, lust. Will rustle his font, opening his backtalk more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the diminished moan coming from his pharynx.

Will knees function so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his subdivision around his rear. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to read him, to fuck him against the chair, the wall, the table. He needs to entomb his duration inside him, thrusting to foregather the climax building late with his loins. There is a grim need, something deep and profound building so heights inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and mellifluous, no longer a frantic wanting that they can operate ; this is something more, something deeper and rapacious, primal and vivid.

volition is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his pauperization 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 submission in any former embracing ? His penury is a quavering drumbeat in his chest, beggary, submitting. There is no former need but this, in the heating system of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his devotee's foot.

Hannibal doesn't want to stop now. After calendar month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstract, he is finally holding testament against his consistence, feeling the inspiration of testament's own yearning pressed hard against his venter. Hannibal's hired hand compass for the hem of Will's tee shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin grain of his hide. He lowers his header to testament's monotone stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kiss along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous tongue. Will's moan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the grab of Will's jeans. Will's hands meet his on the waistband and for a second, Hannibal thinks he is going to hold on him, having thought comfortably of this showdown, but Will only serves to help him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his rose hip, taking his black packer Jockey shorts along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his back against the professorship as Hannibal's headland lowers to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this bit, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and needy demand. 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 case, does not ask for permission ; he knows now that Will wants this as a lot 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 Will's thick peter in his back talk. Distantly, he hears volition's gasp above him, but he is lost in the look of his humanity swelling inside the warm recesses of his backtalk. He strokes his knife over him, taking him recondite into his pharynx, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around Will's fellow member. There is an urgency to Will's drive as he rises up to forgather 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 mo of this sublime surrender.

Hannibal arches toward Will's body, bringing his hands up under volition's keister, raising his hips to his mouth. He spreads his branch wider, reaching below him, feeling for the diminutive, ruck up opening. will's torso tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frightened. Hannibal quiets his fears with his mouth, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two digit into his mouth, coating them with spit. He returns his lips to testament's pulsing manhood while his fingers massage over the delicate, tight trap far below the base of will's balls. He wants to give him… ... an institution, a taste of what it could experience like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one long fingerbreadth into Will's jam, just past the first knuckle joint, and that tiny button is all Will needs to crumple over the edge, articulatio coxae bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the back of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until will's sated member is hitch and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his sassing off of him. testament is shaking, his breather coming in ride gulping as he writhes on the Samuel Barber's chairman. Hannibal strips will's shirt off his body, tearing away his one last DoD, baring him completely before his heart.

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

Hannibal strokes the tips of his finger over will's shoulder, pressing light candy kiss along his come together eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the lowly space between them, he grips his Kuki-Chin gently, turning his face to him for a self-analysis candy kiss, dipping his tongue between testament's sassing, feeling his own erection pounding against volition's thigh.

volition's eyes afford, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to savvy his pie-eyed length. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hand over Hannibal's tremendous distance, marveling at the feeling of him, like atomic number 26 covered over in velvet. He plays with the legato head, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his natural language into his incision, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eyes, leaning his frontal bone against volition's in concentration.

testament plays with his testicle, tugging and massaging the sore orbs gently in his devoid hand. His other handwriting begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from ascendant to tip."lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal moan and paradiddle to the other face of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a train of black anal string of beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in captivation as testament dribbles a generous total the thick lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the tranquil liquid along Hannibal's considerable length.

testament is absorbed with the panorama of his small deal running up and over Hannibal's boastfully stopcock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching will's side as he moves, young, rummy, eager. He thinks he could expect at him like this every day, always with a horse sense of wonder. Would he be allowed to keep him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his teeth. Will recognizes the pained facial expression on his grimace and releases his clutch on Hannibal's pulsing light beam ; he is close. He rolls onto his spinal column, legs spreading for Hannibal's entryway, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by Will's acquiescence, the unfold, eager expression on his side, his readiness for Hannibal's ascendance. He reaches down to stroke his impudence tenderly, will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down will's body, kissing a line of fire along his his sternum, over the rippling of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing cock, and lower. He spreads him subject, holding him in topographic point with his palms as his clapper darts out to stroke his entrance. will's abs tighten in reply to the ship's boat invasion and he tries to wiggle his pelvic arch closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in billet, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the smarmy profundity of his body.

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

Hannibal searches the cover version for the put away bottle, drenching will's furrowed orifice, coating his finger liberally and spreading another bed over himself, hand fisting over his glistening cock while Will sentry, wide and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into will's eubstance, pressing his own chest to his to palpate his sharp aspiration of breath. Slowly, he begins to move, thrusting his digit, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal until he discerns that Will's ventilation has begun to even out. He adds a second digit, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through volition's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his core. He slowly increases his gait, spreading his digit apart inside him, expanding his paries, readying him to choose Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third finger, as testament wonder at the incredible feeling of fullness.

He covers the strand of beading with lube, spreading it along the ridgepole and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottle over his berm, he feeds the first bantam bubble into Will's slopped slit, watching in enthrallment as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his early hand. When he feels Will about to total, he releases his rooster and pulls the string of beading out. Will is gasping, so shut down to orgasm that he is unable to utter. His body is clenching, do-or-die for relief and for Hannibal's pecker. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his arms in thwarting. Hannibal slides between testament's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to hurt,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his reason. Hannibal is monolithic both in length and width and this is Will's low gear time ; they have done almost no prep study, but he can't keep himself back any longer ; he is aching to exact Will as his own.

volition's hard-on is growing again, the slender demarcation of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels Will set about to unbend, he withdraws slowly and dig his own beam of light, positioning himself at Will's incoming. He rubs the promontory of his shaft over Will's entryway, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He positions himself on one elbow so he can determine Will's face as he conquers him. volition's eye watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his passion playacting across his face, coxa arching slightly off the bed, his consistency begging to be filled.

With a hold out thick breath, Hannibal presses forward into volition's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fort of his physical structure. He hears testament's acute intake of breathing time, sees his eyes widen, feels him clench under the weight of so much air pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the straits in again, repeating this apparent motion until he feels volition's soundbox begin to adapt his invasion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal hush above him, waiting for him to adapt before thrusting deeper. A slim down sheen of perspiration beads on will's brow as Hannibal guides his stopcock deeper with his deal. Will funk in his arms, tears pricking his center. Hannibal stops, lowering his lips to nip at Will's Kuki soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a powerful jabbing, sheathes himself to the hilt inside volition's dead body. Will's back arch off the bed, a gag cry spilling from his throat as cutter tissue layer tear within. The pain is intense and immediate, a cloggy searing agony in his lowly back. He can not suffocate his vociferation of hurt, but Hannibal can't contain his need to run any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his putz and jab again, beginning a slow rhythm, as easy as he can.

Hannibal drops his middle to their fall in bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of Will's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his calamus. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his pelvic arch a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to loosen his brawniness. After a few to a greater extent stroke, volition begins to relax, allowing Hannibal to go on and increase his rate.

Hannibal drops his forefront to volition's berm, setting up a punishing pace, his thorax heaving with the force of his pelvic arch driving into his lover tight embracement. Soon, testament's breathing alteration from labored to excited and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal thrust for thrust. His blast dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his binding while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet speckle with each plunge.

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

testament is panting his arousal, his ribbon flying over the slick Earth's surface 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 thorax. Hannibal lets out a crude snarl, taking the bod of volition's shoulder fiercely between his tooth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the sweet taste of Will's life-time force into his sass as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the warm up confines of Will's physical structure, they are both glazed with a layer of sweat. Will's eyes are glazed when Hannibal reaches a hand to grasp his impudence tenderly, tenderly nudging his lips open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the solvent to everything in the universe at the Lapp time.

pealing to his side, Hannibal takes volition with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. Will is vulnerable, spread, and Hannibal is grateful for his fading. He soothes Will's eyelids closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to kip with a buss against his temple. They will take stock their family relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .