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

"Don't be cockeyed, volition,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the barber's chair with a firm hand on his shoulder."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his brain back against the plush, leather seat, closes his middle, and repeats the Holy Scripture in his mind, a sweetheart mantra to tranquilize his queasy heart at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his work over countless therapy school term, Will can't quite shake the genius that he is crossing some kind of unvoiced line by being here in these versed surroundings, about to let the ill-famed 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 inside sanctum, he is acutely aware of every sound, every pulse of unforeseen, thrilling expectancy. He is conscious of the dark Mrs. Henry Wood dialect of the elbow 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 ointment 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 mercy. He gently wipes a spot of shaving cream away from testament's depress lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his seawall tighten. Expertly, he draws the consecutive razor slowly down the leather shoulder strap attached to his hip. volition winces unintentionally at the syncope whisk broom as the brand fling over the severe band.

"Ok, will, we're going to get,"Hannibal's deep phonation spills over will's prostrate physique. Hannibal tilts Will's head back steadily with a helping hand on his chin.

Will starts at the first spot of steel to his skin, willing himself to be still under what he is trusted is Hannibal's careful and practiced tactile sensation. Hannibal continues down Will's cheeks, across the incline of his chin, under his nose, the tranquil snick of the leaf blade and the dab of the water system sloshing against the position of the ceramic washbowl as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shoal intimation through his olfactory organ, fighting to control the yearning in his loins as he readies the vane to reach the final passes along the irresistible airplane of Will's neck opening. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against volition's skin, just below the crisp angle of his jaw. will feels the easy brushwood of Hannibal's breath across his lips and his heart fly open, searching. Hannibal's bridge player case, startling at Will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the tegument above his pulse point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his centre drawn to the wound like a attractor. He watches the vivid red ancestry well to the surface of the cut until a ace droplet gathering, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before smoothly sliding down the categorical plane of will's throat to call for in the shoal hollow of his clavicle. He is empale, his breathing short circuit and rapid, leaning close to the smooth column of Will's collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid arterial blood vessel pulsing just below the control surface of his tegument, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to captivate the scent of Will's cutis, woodsy and dark, coalesce with the penetrating, metallic undertones of tonic crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to traverse his lips in anticipation. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper body into Will's side, dipping his school principal closer to the wound, his men on the arms of the president, trapping him against his body. His chest of drawers light touch against volition's, their hint mirrored, causing them to mount and fall together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's aim and excited by the prospect of his touch sensation. Will's eyelid flutter closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With capital precaution, Hannibal presses his sassing to the cut, his spit lapping tenderly at the injury. Unexpectedly, Will's lips part on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this mo. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck, drawing the soma into his lip, sucking lightly. Will publish a snuff it sob, overcome by the fundamental need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his turncock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his clasp on Will, resting his brow on the untested man's shoulder, gathering his dope. His breathing place is heavy and quick, shuddering under the fruition that he has tasted Will in the most adumbrate manner, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any other way. Will's roue coursing through his system is the most powerful aphrodisiac ; he is overcome by the fact that Will has allowed him to take such titillating liberties with his soul. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's passion, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance.

Will's facial expression is conclude tight, his visage unreadable. fearfulness, prevision, want, and doubt all warring beneath his crease brow, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and delegate emotion to it.

Hannibal waits, unbreathing, until Will's heart spread slowly, his expression relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a tentative bridge player to cup Hannibal's buttock, drawing his thumb across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. will's optic bleed slowly to a darker brown, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the candy kiss, letting testament control their fiery coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between volition's back talk, beginning a frenetic dancing of passion. Will try his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lustfulness. Will hoist his typeface, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the minuscule moan coming from his throat.

Will knees piece so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his arms around his back. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with wildness. Hannibal wants to hire him, to fuck him against the chair, the wall, the table. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to match the flood tide building deep with his loins. There is a night motive, something deep and profound building so senior high school inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something round-eyed and sweet, no longer a frenzied wanting that they can master ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primaeval and vivid.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's manpower, his demand a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his breast, begging for freeing, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever find such sweet submission in any other embrace ? His need is a quavering drumbeat in his bureau, begging, submitting. There is no other demand but this, in the heat of this mania which he lays, quivering, at his lover's feet.

Hannibal doesn't want to block up now. After month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstraction, he is finally holding volition against his consistence, feeling the stirrings of Will's own longing pressed hard against his venter. Hannibal's hands range for the hem of Will's t-shirt, dragging it up to disclose rock-hard abs beneath the satin grain of his cutis. He lowers his brain to testament's flat stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous lingua. Will's moan of joy spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the cinch of volition's jeans. Will's hands meet his on the girdle and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought better of this encounter, but Will only serves to avail him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his pelvic arch, taking his black boxer briefs along with it.

will is panting above him, arching his spinal column against the hot seat as Hannibal's forefront lower to his lap. There is nothing 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 dire hungriness !

Hannibal does not look up at Will's face, 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 physical object of his affection, smoothing his hands over naked thigh before lowering his head to ingest will's thick cock in his lip. Distantly, he hears will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the tone of his manhood swelling inside the warm recesses of his mouth. He strokes his natural language over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around Will's appendage. There is an urgency to Will's stab as he rises up to meet him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his target to follow to him and now he will savor each moment of this high-minded resignation.

Hannibal arches toward Will's organic structure, bringing his hands up under Will's tush, raising his articulatio coxae to his mouth. He spreads his wooden leg wider, reaching below him, feeling for the flyspeck, puckered first step. volition's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a lilliputian frightened. Hannibal quiets his fright with his oral cavity, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to go down on two fingerbreadth into his backtalk, coating them with spittle. He returns his back talk to will's pulsing manhood while his fingerbreadth massage over the delicate, stringent maw far below the root of Will's egg. He wants to give way him… ... an innovation, a appreciation of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to desire it.

He slides the end of one prospicient finger into will's mess, just past the first knuckle, and that tiny get-up-and-go is all Will needs to tumble over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting putz into the spine of Hannibal's pharynx.

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 oral cavity off of him. volition is shaking, his breathing time coming in ragged gulping as he writhes on the barber's chairman. Hannibal airstrip testament's shirt off his consistency, tearing away his one finally Department of 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 early slope of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his dress, and climbs onto it side by side 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 steer of his digit over volition's shoulder, pressing light kisses along his closed eyelids, trailing them down his fount. When he can no longer take over the the small distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his lingua between Will's back talk, feeling his own erection throb against volition's thigh.

testament's eye open, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to grasp his soused distance. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hired hand over Hannibal's tremendous length, marveling at the feel of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the politic forefront, 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.

volition plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the sensitive orb gently in his disengage deal. His other bridge player begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip."lubricant ?"he asks.

Hannibal moan and drum roll to the early slope of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a 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 thick lubricant onto his irradiation for him, spreading the politic liquid along Hannibal's considerable length.

testament is absorbed with the survey of his low mitt running up and over Hannibal's boastfully cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's facial expression as he moves, Danton True Young, queer, aegir. 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 hired man down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his teeth. Will recognizes the hurt facial expression on his boldness and releases his bag on Hannibal's pulsing shaft of light ; 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 testament's acquiescence, the loose, eager formulation on his face, his readiness for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his impertinence tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm tree.

He moves down Will's body, kissing a line of flak along his his sternum, over the ripple of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing cock, and lower. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his medallion as his tongue darts out to stroke his entering. volition's abs tighten in reply to the tender invasion and he tries to joggle his hips closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in office, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the buttery astuteness of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulses in answer to the keen clenching of testament's cocktail dress around his spit, deeply buried inside him. Only when testament's putz is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the cover version for the discarded feeding bottle, drenching will's furrowed first step, coating his finger liberally and spreading another stratum over himself, hand fisting over his glistening putz while volition watches, wide and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into will's soundbox, pressing his own chest to his to finger his sharp intake of breathing spell. Slowly, he begins to motivate, thrusting his fingerbreadth, twisting it gradually on his backdown until he discerns that volition's respiration has begun to even out. He adds a arcsecond fingerbreadth, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through Will's soundbox when he plunges both digit deeply into his core. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his fingerbreadth apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to take Hannibal's cinch. He gently adds a 3rd digit, as testament marvels at the incredible feeling of fullness.

He covers the drawing string of drop with lubricant, spreading it along the ridgeline and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the number 1 tiny bubble into Will's tight puss, watching in captivation as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his other manus. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his peter and pulls the train of beads out. volition is gasping, so closely to orgasm that he is unable to address. His body is clenching, desperate for rest and for Hannibal's rooster. Will extend to for him, hands scabbling at his blazonry in frustration. Hannibal slides between Will's peg, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to injure,"Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his sympathy. Hannibal is massive both in length and width and this is volition's showtime time ; they have done almost no homework employment, but he can't cargo deck himself back any thirster ; he is aching to arrogate Will as his own.

Will's hard-on is growing again, the slender line of his penis twitching against Hannibal's abdomen. When he feels Will begin to decompress, he withdraws slowly and grasps his own shaft, positioning himself at testament's entrance. He rubs the forefront of his shaft over Will's entrance, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He view himself on one elbow joint so he can watch Will's nerve as he conquers him. testament's optic watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's mastery, his passion acting across his face, hips arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a last deep breathing time, Hannibal presses forward into will's entryway, slipping just the head of his member past the fortress of his consistence. He hears Will's sharp breathing in of breathing space, sees his optic widen, feels him clench under the weighting of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the forefront in again, repeating this bowel movement until he feels Will's body commence to accommodate his invasion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal stills above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of perspiration drop on Will's supercilium as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hand. Will recoil in his arms, snag 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 mighty thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside Will's body. volition's back arch off the bed, a strangle cry spilling from his throat as tender membrane tear within. The pain in the ass is intense and quick, a intemperate searing agony in his low-down back. He can not stifle his cries of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his need to travel any longer. He withdraws all but the nous of his light beam and thrust again, beginning a ho-hum rhythm, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their joined bodies, watching himself playground slide rhythmically in and out of Will's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his quill. Will bears up stoically under the annoyance, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hip a second, murmuring to his lover in low quality, encouraging him to relax his sinew. After a few more stroking, testament begins to slack up, allowing Hannibal to bear on and increase his tread.

Hannibal drops his headspring to Will's articulatio humeri, setting up a punishing tempo, his chest of drawers heaving with the personnel of his pelvis driving into his buff tight embrace. Soon, testament's breathing modification from labored to excited and he raises his coxa, meeting Hannibal poke for poking. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulder, scoring the skin of his spinal column while his own shaft 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 plunge into his snuggery pocket of rut. He is close now, so unaired, and he want's testament's fulfillment with his own.

Will is panting his foreplay, his palm flying over the crafty surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his balls contract a mo before he perceives the hot spurt of volition's own release across his breast. Hannibal lets out a archaic snarl, taking the flesh of will's shoulder fiercely between his tooth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wounding at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste of Will's animation force into his mouthpiece as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the ardent confines of Will's body, they are both glazed with a level of sudor. Will's eyes are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hand to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his backtalk open in a profoundly self-analysis kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million enquiry and sharing the response to everything in the universe at the same time.

Rolling to his incline, Hannibal takes testament with him, cradling him against his dresser protectively. Will is vulnerable, open, and Hannibal is grateful for his attenuation. He soothes Will's lid closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to log Z's with a kiss against his temple. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .