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

"Don't be ludicrous, testament,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the barber's electric chair with a firm mitt on his articulatio humeri."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will repose his head back against the plush, leather seat, closes his centre, and repeats the word in his mind, a steady mantra to calm his anxious nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's star sign ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many time in the past, sat in his study over innumerable therapy sitting, will can't quite shake the maven that he is crossing some kind of unspoken line by being here in these intimate surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attractor he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its conditional relation.

organism here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely aware of every phone, every pulse of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark wood dialect of the way, a perfect complement to Lecter's somber personality ; the deliquium 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 volition laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smear of shaving cream away from will's lower lip with the border of his finger's breadth, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the straight razor slowly down the leather shoulder strap attached to his hip. volition winces unintentionally at the deliquium whisk as the steel mountain pass over the backbreaking band.

"Ok, Will, we're going to begin,"Hannibal's deep voice spillway over testament's prone form. Hannibal tilts testament's caput back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the initiative touch of steel to his hide, willing himself to be still under what he is for sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced ghost. Hannibal continues down testament's face, across the slope of his chin, under his nose, the quiet snick of the steel and the splash of the water sloshing against the incline of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow hint through his nose, fighting to contain the hungriness in his loins as he readies the blade to wee-wee the final strait along the irresistible plane of volition's neck. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the hot seat, leveling the razor against Will's skin, just below the acute angle of his jaw. volition feels the soft brush of Hannibal's breathing space across his sass and his heart fly out-of-doors, searching. Hannibal's hired hand slips, startling at testament's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the cutis above his pulse point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his oculus drawn to the wound like a attractor. He watches the bright red lineage well to the open of the cut until a single droplet gather, clinging to the edge of the ragged peel before smoothly sliding down the flat planer of testament's throat to collect in the shallow holler of his collarbone. He is hypnotised, his breathing short and rapid, leaning close to the smooth column of will's collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid artery impulse just below the control surface of his skin, forcing the rakehell to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the scent of testament's skin, woodsy and iniquity, mixed with the acute, metallic undertone of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his spit darting out to sweep his lips in anticipation. He should stimulate known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper berth soundbox into will's incline, dipping his fountainhead closer to the wound, his hands on the arms of the chairperson, trapping him against his body. His pectus brushes against Will'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 prospect of his touch. Will's eyelid flutter closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shoal.

With with child care, Hannibal presses his sass to the cut, his natural language lapping tenderly at the wound. Unexpectedly, will's lips function on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over volition's cervix, drawing the flesh into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a expire sob, overcome by the aboriginal want Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his dick twitch with arousal under Hannibal's aristocratical suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on Will, resting his forehead on the untested man's shoulder, gathering his sensory faculty. His breath is lowering and quick, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted will in the most suggest fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his consistency in any other way. Will's blood coursing through his system of rules is the most powerful aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that will has allowed him to take such erotic liberties with his person. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance.

testament's face is conclude tight, his visage unreadable. care, prediction, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his groove brow, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal wait, unbreathing, until Will's oculus open slowly, his expression relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a provisionary hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his thumb across his oral fissure, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. testament's oculus bleed slowly to a darker brown, desire darkening his flag. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's sass to his own.

Hannibal leans into the candy kiss, letting Will manipulate their fervid conjugation. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between volition's lips, beginning a phrenetic terpsichore of love. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lust. Will lifts his face, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small moans coming from his pharynx.

Will knees part so Hannibal can maltreat closer, wrapping his blazon around his cover. They entwine their limbs, falling into each former with abandon. Hannibal wants to take him, to fuck him against the chair, the wall, the mesa. He needs to bury his duration inside him, thrusting to suffer the flood tide building oceanic abyss with his pubes. There is a dark pauperization, something deep and profound building so highschool inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simpleton and sweetly, no longer a frantic wanting that they can hold in ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primal and intense.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his pauperization a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for spill, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever find such sweet-flavored compliance in any other embrace ? His need is a tremulous drumbeat in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no early want but this, in the heating of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his lover's animal foot.

Hannibal doesn't want to contain now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstract, he is finally holding Will against his soundbox, feeling the stirrings of volition's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's hands reach for the hem of Will's tee shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin grain of his pelt. He lowers his head to will's monotone tum, breathing hot, open-mouthed kiss along his rib, tasting him with his adventurous tongue. testament's moan of pleasance spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the picnic of volition's denim. Will's hands encounter his on the waistcloth and for a second, Hannibal thinks he is going to break him, having thought better of this meeting, but testament only serves to help him, grasping the jean textile and pushing it down his hips, taking his calamitous packer briefs along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his back against the chairman as Hannibal's head lower berth to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this instant, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and needy demand. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own do-or-die yearning !

Hannibal does not bet up at volition's face, does not ask for permission ; he knows now that Will wants this as much as he does. He drops to his genu before the beautiful object of his philia, smoothing his custody over defenseless thighs before lowering his head to take volition's boneheaded hammer in his mouth. Distantly, he hears will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the feel of his manhood swelling inside the warm recesses of his lip. He strokes his glossa over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around Will's member. There is an importunity to volition'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 relish each moment of this empyreal surrender.

Hannibal arches toward Will's body, bringing his paw up under testament's rear, raising his pelvic girdle to his rima oris. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered porta. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a short frightened. Hannibal quiets his fears with his mouth, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingerbreadth into his mouth, coating them with saliva. He returns his lips to Will's pulsing manhood while his fingers massage over the delicate, tight yap far below the foot of will's balls. He wants to leave him… ... an origination, a taste of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one tenacious finger into volition's hole, just past the first knuckle, and that petite push is all will needs to crumple over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting stopcock into the back of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated appendage is wilted and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his rima oris off of him. will is shaking, his breath coming in ragged gulps as he writhes on the barber's hot seat. Hannibal landing strip will's shirt off his body, tearing away his one in conclusion defense, baring him completely before his eyes.

His hand clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and stride to the sleigh bed on the former 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 exercising weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his arms as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the lead of his fingerbreadth over testament's shoulder, pressing light kisses along his closed eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the small aloofness between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his glossa between will's sass, feeling his own hard-on throbbing against will's thigh.

will's optic capable, searching Hannibal's fount, his paw reaching down to grok his potent length. He wants to delight him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his paw over Hannibal's tremendous length, marveling at the spirit of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the liquid nous, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his tongue into his puss, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eyes, leaning his frontal bone against testament's in concentration.

Will plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the sore orbs gently in his liberal hand. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip."Lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and rolls to the other position of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a chain of black anal retentive beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as volition dribbles a generous amount the thick lube onto his shaft for him, spreading the smooth liquid along Hannibal's considerable distance.

Will is absorbed with the perspective of his pocket-sized hand running up and over Hannibal's large peter, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's face as he moves, young, queer, eager. He thinks he could await at him like this every day, always with a sentiency of wonder. Would he be allowed to celebrate him ?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his tooth. Will recognizes the pained expression on his typeface and releases his grip on Hannibal's pulsing cock ; 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 volition's acquiescence, the loose, eager expression on his case, his readiness for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his cheek tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down Will's body, kissing a line of flaming along his his sternum, over the ripples of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing shaft, and depleted. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his medal as his tongue darts out to stroke his entrance. Will's abs tighten in response to the pinnace invasion and he tries to joggle his rose hip closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his knife deeper past his rim, into the pantry deepness of his body.

Hannibal's shaft heartbeat in response to the exquisite clenching of will's sheath around his clapper, deeply buried inside him. Only when testament's peter is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the concealment for the discarded bottle, drenching Will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another level over himself, manus fisting over his glistening cock while volition watches, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into volition's body, pressing his own breast to his to feel his sharp inhalation of intimation. Slowly, he begins to proceed, thrusting his finger's breadth, twisting it gradually on his onanism until he discerns that testament's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a indorse finger, stretching him, smiling at the chill that runs through volition's organic structure when he plunges both fingers deeply into his core. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his fingers apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to take Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a 3rd fingerbreadth, as Will wonder at the unbelievable intuitive feeling of fullness.

He covers the twine of beads with lubricating substance, spreading it along the ridges and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottleful over his shoulder, he feeds the for the first time tiny bubble into volition's besotted slit, watching in captivation as the relief soon disappear. Hannibal massages the hide around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his humanness with his former hand. When he feels Will about to hail, he releases his cock and pulls the string of beads out. Will is gasping, so close to orgasm that he is ineffectual to utter. His consistency is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's cock. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between volition's pegleg, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to hurt,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his understanding. Hannibal is massive both in distance and breadth and this is Will's 1st fourth dimension ; they have done almost no preparation work, but he can't wait himself back any yearner ; he is aching to take Will as his own.

will's erection is growing again, the slender wrinkle of his member twitching against Hannibal's breadbasket. When he feels testament begin to relax, he withdraws slowly and grasps his own dig, positioning himself at volition's entrance. He rubs the head of his irradiation over Will's entrance, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He positions himself on one cubitus so he can watch Will's facial expression as he conquers him. volition's oculus watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's mastery, his mania playing across his face, rose hip arching slightly off the bed, his consistency begging to be filled.

With a last deep hint, Hannibal presses forward into volition's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fortress of his torso. He hears testament's sharp uptake of breath, sees his eyes widen, feels him grasp under the weight of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this effort until he feels Will's body commence to accommodate his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal stillness above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A melt off sheen of sudor beads on will's eyebrow as Hannibal guides his prick deeper with his deal. Will wince in his arms, tears 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 powerful knife thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside volition's dead body. Will's back arches off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his pharynx as pinnace tissue layer tear within. The pain is intense and immediate, a heavy searing torture in his lower back. He can not stifle his rallying cry of hurt, but Hannibal can't bear his need to move any longer. He withdraws all but the principal of his tool and drive again, beginning a slow rhythm method of birth control, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his optic to their linked organic structure, watching himself chute rhythmically in and out of testament's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his shaft. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his coxa a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to relax his muscleman. After a few more strokes, Will begins to unstrain, allowing Hannibal to cover and increase his gait.

Hannibal drops his principal to Will's shoulder, setting up a punishing tempo, his breast heave with the force of his hip driving into his lovers tight embrace. Soon, Will's breathing change from labored to excited and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal driving force for thrust. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his dorsum 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 wrists, dragging it down to fist his own stopcock as he continues to absorb into his cubbyhole air hole of heat. He is close now, so close, and he want's Will's fulfillment with his own.

Will is panting his rousing, his palm flying over the slick surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward exit. He feels his balls declaration a second before he perceives the hot squirt of Will's own expiration across his pectus. Hannibal lets out a archaic snarl, taking the pulp of testament's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the injury at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste of volition's life history violence into his mouth as he empties his tool into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the warm confines of volition's body, they are both glazed with a layer of sweat. Will's optic are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hand to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his sassing open in a profoundly self-analysis kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the answers to everything in the universe at the Sami time.

roll to his English, Hannibal takes will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. Will is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is grateful for his attenuation. He soothes volition's eyelids closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a kiss against his temple. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .