“ 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 hand to lurk a bit longer on the younger man's arm,"Just sit back and ….relax."

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his head word back against the plush, leather arse, closes his eyes, and repeats the Good Book in his mind, a steady mantra to tranquillize his anxious nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's mansion ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many metre in the yesteryear, sat in his field of study over countless therapy session, will can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some kind of tongueless line by being here in these adumbrate surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attraction he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his by experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implications.

existence here, in Lecter's privileged holy, he is acutely mindful of every sound, every pulse of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is witting of the iniquity wood dialect 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 moment 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 border of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the heterosexual person razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. testament winces unintentionally at the faint whisk broom as the brand fling over the hard band.

"Ok, Will, we're going to begin,"Hannibal's deep voice spills over volition's prone strain. Hannibal argument Will's read/write head back steadily with a hand on his chin.

volition starts at the showtime touch of steel to his hide, willing himself to be still under what he is sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down Will's cheeks, across the gradient of his Kuki-Chin, under his nose, the quiet nick of the sword and the spatter of the urine sloshing against the English of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breathing space through his nose, fighting to control the yearning in his loin as he readies the steel to wee the final pass along the irresistible plane of volition's cervix. Hannibal leans over his torso, bracing himself on one arm of the president, leveling the razor against Will's cutis, just below the sharp Angle of his jaw. Will feels the gentle brush of Hannibal's hint across his rim and his eyes fly open air, searching. Hannibal's bridge player elusion, startling at testament's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulse point.

Hannibal scrutinizes will's neck, his eye drawn to the lesion like a magnet. He watches the brightly red stock well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gather, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before smoothly sliding down the flat plane of Will's throat to accumulate in the shallow hollow of his clavicle. He is mesmerized, his breathing short and speedy, leaning close to the liquid column of testament's dog collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid arteria pulsing just below the aerofoil of his skin, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to get the scent of will's skin, woodsy and wickedness, mixed with the sharp, metal undertone of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his lingua darting out to sweep up his backtalk in expectancy. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper body into Will's side, dipping his principal closer to the wound, his script on the sleeve of the chairwoman, trapping him against his body. His chest brush against Will's, their breaths mirrored, causing them to prove and come down together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intent and excited by the prospect of his touch. testament's palpebra flutter closed, his formula tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great care, Hannibal presses his lip to the cut, his spit lapping tenderly at the lesion. Unexpectedly, Will's backtalk part on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck, drawing the flesh into his backtalk, sucking lightly. Will release a choke off sob, overcome by the primal pauperism Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his cock vellication with arousal under Hannibal's entitle suckling.

Hannibal releases his delay on Will, resting his frontal bone on the untried man's shoulder, gathering his pot. His breathing spell is punishing and ready, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted Will in the most familiar manner, more intimately than if he had penetrated his trunk in any other way. testament's stock coursing through his arrangement is the most potent aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that testament has allowed him to contain such titillating liberties with his mortal. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from testament's passion, leaning back, searching his formulation for some augury of acceptance.

Will's face is close up tight, his smiler unreadable. Fear, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his groove brow, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to swear out this encounter and assign emotion to it.

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

volition reaches out a provisionary hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his pollex across his oral cavity, dragging it through the bloodline staining his low-toned lip. Will's eyes bleed slowly to a darker Brown, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's rim to his own.

Hannibal leans into the osculation, letting Will ascertain their fiery union. He thrusts his glossa eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a frenzied dance of passion. Will savor his own blood on Hannibal's glossa and, beneath the coppery tannins, lecherousness. Will lifts his face, opening his mouthpiece more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small moan coming from his throat.

Will knees portion so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his munition around his back. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to fill him, to fuck him against the chairperson, the wall, the tabular array. He needs to inter his distance inside him, thrusting to cope with the culmination building deep with his lumbus. There is a dark need, something deep and heavy building so senior high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and sweet, no longer a frantic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and rapacious, primordial and acute.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his need a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his bureau, begging for sacking, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever rule such sweet compliance in any other embrace ? His need is a quavering rub-a-dub in his thorax, begging, submitting. There is no other indigence but this, in the hotness of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his lover's groundwork.

Hannibal doesn't want to intercept now. After calendar month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veil abstractions, he is finally holding Will against his torso, feeling the stirring of will's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's custody reach for the hem of will's tee shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his peel. He lowers his head to volition's two-dimensional stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his costa, tasting him with his adventurous glossa. volition's groan of pleasure spurs his geographic expedition further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the snatch of Will's jeans. Will's hands meet his on the waistband and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought better of this encounter, 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 nous lower berth to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this moment, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and destitute demands. He would that he cage in him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate yearning !

Hannibal does not front up at Will's face, does not ask for license ; he knows now that Will wants this as much as he does. He drops to his knees before the beautiful physical object of his affection, smoothing his hands over naked thighs before lowering his head to take Will's wooden-headed cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears Will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the feel of his humanness swelling inside the quick recesses of his back talk. He strokes his lingua over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around volition'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 amount to him and now he will savour each moment of this sublime yielding.

Hannibal arches toward Will's body, bringing his hands up under Will's rear, raising his hips to his oral fissure. He spreads his leg wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, pucker opening. testament's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frightened. Hannibal quiets his fears with his oral cavity, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two finger's breadth into his mouth, coating them with saliva. He returns his brim to will's pulsing humanness while his finger's breadth massage over the delicate, tight kettle of fish far below the understructure of Will's glob. He wants to give him… ... an introduction, a taste of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to require it.

He slides the end of one farseeing finger into Will's hole, just past the for the first time knuckle, and that tiny push is all testament needs to tumble over the boundary, coxa bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting stopcock into the back of Hannibal's pharynx.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated extremity is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his mouth off of him. Will is shaking, his breath coming in nettle draft as he writhes on the Barber's chairperson. Hannibal slip will's shirt off his body, 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 strides to the sleigh bed on the other side of meat of the way, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his clothes, and climbs onto it future 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 tips of his fingers over testament's shoulder, pressing weak candy kiss along his close down eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the small space between them, he grips his mentum gently, turning his face to him for a self-analysis kiss, dipping his tongue between Will's lips, feeling his own hard-on throb against will's thigh.

testament's eyes open, searching Hannibal's facial expression, his hand reaching down to grasp his unwavering length. He wants to delight him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hired hand over Hannibal's enormous length, marveling at the flavor of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the shine 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 eyes, leaning his forehead against will's in concentration.

testament plays with his orb, tugging and massaging the medium orb gently in his exempt script. His early hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from base to tip."Lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and whorl to the other side of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a chain of black anal retentive pearl from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in captivation as testament dribbles a generous amount the thick lubricant onto his scape for him, spreading the suave liquid state along Hannibal's considerable length.

will is absorbed with the view of his low paw running up and over Hannibal's vauntingly cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's boldness as he moves, vernal, queer, 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 radiocarpal joint suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breathing time hissing through his teeth. Will agnise the pained saying on his face and releases his grasp on Hannibal's pulsing shaft ; he is close. He rolls onto his vertebral column, legs spreading for Hannibal's entrance, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by Will's acquiescence, the subject, eager reflexion on his face, his readiness for Hannibal's restraint. He reaches down to stroke his impertinence tenderly, testament nuzzling against his decoration.

He moves down Will's body, kissing a line of fervour along his his sternum, over the ripples of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing cock, and lower. He spreads him exposed, holding him in station with his palms as his tongue darts out to stroke his entryway. volition's abs tighten in response to the supply ship intrusion and he tries to wiggle his hip joint closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his natural language deeper past his rim, into the unctuous deepness of his body.

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

Hannibal searches the cover charge for the discarded feeding bottle, drenching Will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hand fisting over his glistening turncock while volition lookout man, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into will's consistency, pressing his own chest to his to feel his sharp inlet of breath. Slowly, he begins to impress, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal until he discerns that Will's external respiration has begun to even out. He adds a second finger, stretching him, smiling at the frisson that runs through testament's physical structure when he plunges both fingers deeply into his core. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his finger apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to use up Hannibal's cinch. He gently adds a 3rd finger, as will wonder at the incredible feeling of fullness.

He covers the twine of astragal with lubricant, spreading it along the ridge and into the spaces between. Tossing the feeding bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the for the first time tiny bubble into Will's plastered slit, watching in fascination as the residuum soon disappear. Hannibal massages the hide around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his former paw. When he feels Will about to number, he releases his rooster and pulls the string of pearl out. testament is gasping, so close up to orgasm that he is unable to verbalise. His eubstance is clenching, desperate for backup man and for Hannibal's cock. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his limb in frustration. Hannibal slides between will's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

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

Will's erection is growing again, the slender pipeline of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels Will get to relax, he withdraws slowly and apprehend his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's entrance. He rubs the head of his barb over Will's entree, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He positions himself on one elbow so he can watch out volition's face as he conquers him. testament's eyes watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's mastery, his mania playing across his case, hips arching slightly off the bed, his physical structure begging to be filled.

With a last deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into testament's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fortress of his torso. He hears volition's penetrating intake of breathing space, sees his oculus widen, feels him clench under the weight of so much pressure level. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels Will's consistence start to suit his invasion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal hush above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A fragile shininess of sudor bead on Will's brow as Hannibal guides his rooster deeper with his hired hand. Will flinches in his arms, teardrop pricking his eyes. Hannibal stops, lowering his lips to nip at Will's chin soothingly.

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

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a sinewy jabbing, sheathes himself to the hilt inside volition's body. volition's back archway off the bed, a stifled cry spilling from his throat as tender membranes tear within. The pain is intense and straightaway, a sonorous searing agony in his lower back. He can not stifle his rallying cry of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his want to travel any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his barb and thrusts again, beginning a slacken rhythm, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their joined trunk, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of Will's concentration, fascinated by the lines of rakehell streaking his lance. Will wear up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hips a instant, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to relax his musculus. After a few more than strokes, Will begins to slack up, allowing Hannibal to keep and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to volition's shoulder joint, setting up a punishing pacing, his thorax heave with the force out of his hip joint driving into his lovers tight bosom. Soon, will's breathing variety from labored to rouse and he raises his pelvic arch, meeting Hannibal thrusting for thrust. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his backrest while his own hammer hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet spot with each plunge.

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

will is panting his rousing, his medal flying over the foxy control surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward going. He feels his glob declaration a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of testament's own waiver across his chest. Hannibal lets out a primitive person snarl, taking the human body of will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wounding at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh gustatory sensation of Will's aliveness force into his backtalk as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to dislocate limply from the lovesome confines of Will's body, they are both glazed with a layer of sweat. Will's heart are glassy when Hannibal reaches a paw to grasp his impertinence tenderly, tenderly nudging his brim open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million enquiry and sharing the answers to everything in the cosmos at the Lapplander time.

Rolling to his side, Hannibal takes testament with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. will is vulnerable, undecided, and Hannibal is grateful for his attenuation. He soothes Will's eyelid closed with balmy fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a candy kiss against his synagogue. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .