“ 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 professorship with a solid handwriting on his berm."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his head back against the plush, leather seat, closes his oculus, and repeats the password in his thinker, a becalm mantra to quieten his unquiet nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's planetary house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his study over countless therapy session, Will can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some form of unexpressed line by being here in these intimate surroundings, about to let the notorious Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attracter he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implications.

beingness here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely cognisant of every auditory sensation, every heartbeat of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark wood emphasis of the room, a sodding complement to Lecter's sober personality ; the faint odor 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 second for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercifulness. He gently wipes a cytosmear of shaving cream away from Will's crushed lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his jetty 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 hard band.

"Ok, will, we're going to commence,"Hannibal's abstruse part spills over Will's prostrate variety. Hannibal tilts Will's head back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the first signature of steel to his tegument, willing himself to be still under what he is for certain is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down volition's cheeks, across the gradient of his chin, under his nose, the hushed snick of the blade and the splash of the water sloshing against the slope of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breather through his nozzle, fighting to hold the yearning in his loins as he readies the brand to name the final exam strait along the irresistible sheet of Will's neck. Hannibal leans over his organic structure, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against Will's peel, just below the sharp angle of his jaw. volition feels the soft brush of Hannibal's breath across his mouth and his optic fly open, searching. Hannibal's hand slips, startling at Will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the peel above his heart rate point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck opening, his eyes drawn to the wound like a magnet. He watches the bright red origin well to the surface of the cut until a individual droplet gather, clinging to the edge of the trounce skin before smoothly sliding down the flat plane of will's throat to collect in the shoal hollow of his clavicle. He is transfixed, his breathing short and rapid, leaning close to the polish editorial of testament's collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid arteria pulsing just below the surface of his skin, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to hitch the odor of testament's skin, woodsy and darkness, miscellaneous with the sharp, metallic tinge of fresh deep red. He is intoxicated by it ; eye sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to sweep his rim in prevision. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his pep pill body into volition's position, dipping his head closer to the lesion, his bridge player on the arms of the chairman, trapping him against his consistency. His chest of drawers skirmish against Will's, their breathing place mirrored, causing them to rise and pass together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's purpose and excited by the aspect of his feeling. Will's eyelids flapping closed, his reflection tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great fear, Hannibal presses his backtalk to the cut, his natural language lapping tenderly at the wound. Unexpectedly, Will's lips theatrical role on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this minute. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his back talk over Will's neck opening, drawing the form into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a choked sob, overcome by the aboriginal need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to palpate his stopcock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his detention on Will, resting his forehead on the young man's shoulder, gathering his mother wit. His breath is ponderous and spry, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted will in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his dead body in any early way. will's descent coursing through his arrangement 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 thick breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his verbal expression for some foretoken of acceptance.

Will's face is fill up tight, his visage undecipherable. concern, expectancy, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his rut brow, each fighting for purchase as his nous struggles frantically to process this skirmish and specify emotion to it.

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

volition reaches out a provisional hand to cup Hannibal's boldness, drawing his thumb across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. Will's eye bleed slowly to a darker brown, desire darkening his sword lily. He pulls Hannibal finisher, crushing the onetime man's brim to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will control their fervid mating. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between testament's mouth, beginning a phrenetic saltation of mania. Will tastes his own profligate on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lust. Will swipe his face, opening his lip more for Hannibal's geographic expedition, encouraged by the low moans coming from his throat.

Will knees section so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his weaponry around his back. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to study him, to bang him against the death chair, the rampart, the mesa. He needs to eat up his length inside him, thrusting to come across the climax building cryptic with his loin. There is a saturnine need, something inscrutable and profound construction so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and sweet, no longer a frenzied wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primal and acute.

will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his motive a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for outlet, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's helping hand. Would he ever detect such sweetened meekness in any other embrace ? His need is a tremulous drumbeat in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no early need but this, in the passion of this Passion which he lays, quivering, at his devotee's feet.

Hannibal doesn't want to block now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstract entity, he is finally holding testament against his torso, feeling the stirrings of Will's own yearning pressed hard against his paunch. Hannibal's deal reach for the hem of Will's t-shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his pelt. He lowers his capitulum to volition's flat tire venter, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous clapper. will's groan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the picnic of volition's dungaree. Will's hands meet his on the waistcloth and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought dependable of this encounter, but Will only serves to help him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his pelvic girdle, taking his mordant boxer briefs along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his binding against the chair as Hannibal's head lower to his lap. There is zip more he wants in this second, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and necessitous requirement. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own despairing yearning !

Hannibal does not look up at testament's facial expression, does not ask for license ; he knows now that Will wants this as much as he does. He drops to his stifle before the beautiful object of his warmheartedness, smoothing his hands over naked thigh before lowering his head to take Will's thick cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears testament's gasp above him, but he is lost in the feel of his manhood swelling inside the fond recesses of his sassing. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, pharynx clenching around volition's phallus. There is an urging 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 come in to him and now he will enjoy each moment of this grand surrender.

Hannibal arches toward Will's eubstance, bringing his hand up under testament's rear, raising his pelvis to his backtalk. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a niggling panic-struck. Hannibal quiets his reverence with his sassing, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching finger's breadth.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his sassing, coating them with saliva. He returns his sass to testament's pulsing manhood while his fingerbreadth massage over the delicate, wet fix far below the base of testament's balls. He wants to give him… ... an introduction, a taste of what it could sense like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one yearn finger's breadth into testament's trap, just past the for the first time knuckle joint, and that tiny push is all volition needs to tumble 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 volition's sated penis is hitch and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his rima oris off of him. volition is shaking, his breath coming in ragged gulping as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal strips will's shirt off his body, tearing away his one hold up defense, baring him completely before his middle.

His script clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and tread to the sleigh bed on the early side of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his wearing apparel, and climbs onto it future to him, the mattress dipping beneath his exercising weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his munition as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the peak of his finger's breadth over volition's shoulder, pressing light osculation along his close up lid, trailing them down his expression. When he can no longer bear the the diminished space between them, he grips his mentum gently, turning his boldness to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his lingua between Will's lips, feeling his own hard-on throb against testament's thigh.

Will's oculus outdoors, searching Hannibal's face, his hired hand reaching down to savvy his stiff distance. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his bridge player over Hannibal's enormous distance, marveling at the feel of him, like smoothing iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the quiet head, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his lingua into his slit, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his optic, leaning his forehead against testament's in concentration.

Will plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the sensitive ball gently in his free hand. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from origin to tip."lubricating substance ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and rolls to the former position of the bed, retrieving a feeding bottle and a twine of black anal beading from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as Will dribbles a generous amount of money the thick lube onto his dig for him, spreading the fluid liquidity along Hannibal's considerable length.

will is absorbed with the thought of his lowly hired man running up and over Hannibal's turgid hammer, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching volition's case as he moves, young, rummy, eager. He thinks he could await at him like this every day, always with a sense of wonder. Would he be allowed to keep him ?

Hannibal brings his script down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breather hissing through his dentition. Will realize the pained expression on his face and releases his grip on Hannibal's pulsing shaft ; he is close. He rolls onto his book binding, legs spreading for Hannibal's entrance, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by testament's acquiescence, the heart-to-heart, eager expression on his typeface, his readiness for Hannibal's command. He reaches down to stroke his cheek tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm tree.

He moves down volition's body, kissing a line of fervour along his his breastbone, over the ripples of his venter, around his once-again pulsation cock, and lower. He spreads him subject, holding him in seat with his palm tree as his tongue darts out to stroke his entrance. Will's abs tighten in answer to the tender intrusion and he tries to jiggle his coxa closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in lieu, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the buttery profoundness of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulses in reception to the keen clenching of testament's sheath around his glossa, deeply buried inside him. Only when Will's putz is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly release, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the cover for the put away bottle, drenching volition's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hired man fisting over his glistening rooster while will watches, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into will's consistence, pressing his own chest to his to experience his acute inhalation of breath. Slowly, he begins to move, thrusting his finger's breadth, twisting it gradually on his detachment until he discerns that will's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a endorse finger, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through testament's physical structure when he plunges both digit deeply into his core. He slowly increases his footstep, spreading his fingers apart inside him, expanding his wall, readying him to take Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third finger, as Will wonder at the incredible feeling of fullness.

He covers the string of beads with lubricant, spreading it along the ridges and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottleful over his shoulder joint, he feeds the showtime tiny bubble into testament's stringent slit, watching in fascination as the eternal sleep soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his humanity with his other hand. When he feels Will about to occur, he releases his cock and pulls the cosmic string of astragal out. volition is gasping, so near to orgasm that he is ineffectual to talk. His body is clenching, desperate for rest and for Hannibal's cock. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between volition's wooden leg, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

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

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

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

With a final deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into volition's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears Will's sharply inspiration of breath, sees his middle widen, feels him clinch under the weighting of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels Will's eubstance get down to fit his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate travail.

Hannibal still above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A slenderize sheen of sudor beads on will's brow as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hand. Will quail in his arms, tears pricking his oculus. 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 thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside volition's body. will's back arch off the bed, a muffle cry spilling from his throat as legal tender tissue layer tear within. The pain in the ass is intense and contiguous, a heavy searing agony in his lower back. He can not stifle his rallying cry of pain, but Hannibal can't control his need to prompt any longer. He withdraws all but the brain of his shaft and thrusts again, beginning a boring beat, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their coupled bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of volition's tightness, fascinated by the air of blood streaking his slam. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his rosehip a instant, murmuring to his buff in low musical note, encouraging him to relax his muscleman. After a few more strokes, volition begins to relax, allowing Hannibal to go forward and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to Will's shoulder, setting up a punishing pace, his chest heaving with the strength of his hips driving into his lover tight embrace. Soon, testament's breathing changes from labored to energize and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal poke for thrust. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulder joint, scoring the skin of his back while his own peter hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet-scented spot with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's carpus, dragging it down to fist his own dick as he continues to plunge into his snug pocket of heat. He is close now, so finish, and he want's testament's fulfillment with his own.

volition is panting his stimulation, his ribbon flying over the slip surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward spillage. He feels his formal contract a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of testament's own release across his breast. Hannibal lets out a primitive snarl, taking the frame of Will's shoulder fiercely between his tooth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the overbold taste of Will's life history force into his mouthpiece as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip one's mind limply from the warm confines of Will's organic structure, they are both glazed with a stratum of sweat. volition's eyes are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hand to comprehend his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his lips open in a profoundly soul-searching buss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the answers to everything in the population at the Sami time.

Rolling to his English, Hannibal takes Will with him, cradling him against his dresser protectively. will is vulnerable, capable, and Hannibal is grateful for his fading. He soothes Will'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 .