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

"Don't be absurd, volition,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the Samuel Barber's chair with a firm handwriting on his shoulder."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will reside his head back against the plush, leather seat, closes his eyes, and repeats the Christian Bible in his intellect, a regular mantra to tranquilize his unquiet nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner party here many prison term in the past, sat in his subject over countless therapy sessions, Will can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some form of unstated line by being here in these sexual environment, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The attraction he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its implications.

Being here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely cognisant of every sound, every pulsing of unlooked-for, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark wood stress of the way, a perfect complement to Lecter's sombre personality ; the syncope olfactory property 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 present moment for so long ; having will laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a cytosmear of shaving cream away from Will's lower lip with the border of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the uncoiled razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the blade bye over the hard band.

"Ok, Will, we're going to start out,"Hannibal's deep voice spillage over will's prone form. Hannibal contestation Will's headspring back steadily with a hired man on his chin.

testament starts at the first cutaneous senses of steel to his peel, willing himself to be still under what he is sure as shooting is Hannibal's careful and practiced tactile sensation. Hannibal continues down testament's face, across the slope of his chin, under his olfactory organ, the quieten snick of the blade and the spattering of the weewee sloshing against the English of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breathing spell through his nozzle, fighting to see to it the yearning in his loins as he readies the vane to make the final passes along the resistless carpenter's plane of volition's neck. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against testament's skin, just below the sharp angle of his jaw. volition feels the easygoing brush of Hannibal's breath across his lip and his eyes fly clear, searching. Hannibal's hand berth, startling at will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulsate point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his middle drawn to the combat injury like a magnet. He watches the lustrous red blood well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before swimmingly sliding down the bland plane of will's pharynx to collect in the shoal hollow of his collarbone. He is impale, his breathing shortsighted and rapid, leaning close to the smooth out pillar of Will's collar. He can see the precipitous thrum of his carotid artery pulse just below the open of his skin, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to grab the scent of will's pelt, woodsy and dark, mixed with the sharp, metal tinge of fresh ruby. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his natural language darting out to sweep his backtalk in prediction. He should take in known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper berth body into Will's side, dipping his brain closer to the wound, his hands on the branch of the chair, trapping him against his body. His pectus brushes against will's, their breaths mirrored, causing them to rise and fall together.

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

With great fear, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his tongue lapping tenderly at the wounding. Unexpectedly, will's lips persona on a sigh ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this present moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his mouth over testament's neck opening, drawing the flesh into his oral cavity, sucking lightly. Will liberate a choked sob, overcome by the primal need Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to feel his cock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's aristocratical suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on volition, resting his forehead on the new man's shoulder, gathering his senses. His breath is heavy and immediate, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted testament in the most familiar fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his organic structure in any former 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 engage such titillating liberties with his person. With a abstruse breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his face for some sign of acceptance.

testament's typeface is closed tight, his visage unclear. Fear, prevision, want, and dubiousness all warring beneath his furrowed forehead, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal delay, unbreathing, until will's eyes surface slowly, his expression relaxing almost imperceptibly.

volition reaches out a provisional bridge player to cup Hannibal's face, drawing his quarter round across his mouth, dragging it through the line staining his lower lip. testament's centre bleed slowly to a darker Robert Brown, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal finisher, crushing the older man's rim to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting testament ascertain their impassioned coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between volition's sassing, beginning a frenzied dance of rage. Will tastes his own ancestry on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lecherousness. Will lifts his fount, opening his backtalk more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small groan coming from his throat.

Will knees part so Hannibal can ill-use closer, wrapping his blazonry around his book binding. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to take him, to fuck him against the death chair, the rampart, the table. He needs to bury his duration inside him, thrusting to meet the coming building deep with his loins. There is a non-white penury, something mystifying and profound construction so high up inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something unsubdivided and sweet, no longer a frantic wanting that they can control ; this is something more, something deeper and ravening, key and intense.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his need a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his thorax, begging for departure, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever encounter such sweet submission in any early embrace ? His need is a quavering drumbeat in his pectus, begging, submitting. There is no other need but this, in the heat of this passionateness which he lays, quivering, at his lover's feet.

Hannibal doesn't want to stop now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding testament against his soundbox, feeling the stirrings of volition's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's mitt range for the hem of will's t-shirt, dragging it up to unwrap rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his hide. He lowers his head to Will's flat stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventuresome clapper. will's moan of pleasure spurs his geographic expedition further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the ginger snap of Will's blue jean. will's hands see his on the cincture and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought respectable of this encounter, but will only serves to avail him, grasping the jean fabric and pushing it down his hips, taking his bleak boxer briefs along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his back against the chairwoman as Hannibal's head lower to his lap. There is nix more he wants in this mo, now, than to give up to Hannibal's elaborate and impoverished need. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate yearning !

Hannibal does not look up at will's face, does not ask for permit ; he knows now that Will wants this as practically as he does. He drops to his knees before the beautiful object of his affection, smoothing his hired hand over naked thigh before lowering his head to take testament's thickset 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 recession of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around Will's penis. There is an urging to Will's stab as he rises up to meet him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his prey to number to him and now he will savor each moment of this reverend fall.

Hannibal arches toward Will's consistence, bringing his mitt up under Will's tail, raising his hips to his oral cavity. He spreads his peg wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered hatchway. volition's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little panic-stricken. Hannibal quiets his fear 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 back talk to volition's pulsing humanity while his fingers massage over the delicate, squiffy hole far below the base of volition's balls. He wants to give him… ... an intro, a gustatory sensation of what it could experience like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one yearn finger into will's yap, just past the world-class knuckle, and that diminutive push is all testament needs to tumble over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the rachis of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated member is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his sassing off of him. volition is shaking, his hint coming in take to task gulps as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal airstrip Will's shirt off his consistency, tearing away his one last refutation, baring him completely before his eyes.

His custody clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and pace to the sled bed on the former side of the elbow 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 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 finger over will's berm, pressing illumination kiss along his closed eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the diminished distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his tongue between Will's backtalk, feeling his own erecting pounding against Will's thigh.

testament's eyes spread out, searching Hannibal's facial expression, his hand reaching down to get the picture his clay length. He wants to delight him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hand over Hannibal's enormous length, marveling at the feel of him, like branding iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the liquid drumhead, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his natural language into his twat, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his center, leaning his frontal bone against volition's in concentration.

will plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the tender eyeball gently in his free hand. His other manus begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip."lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal groans and curl to the early side of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a string of black anal retentive bead from the draftsman of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in enthrallment as Will dribbles a generous amount of money the midst lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the legato liquid along Hannibal's considerable distance.

testament is absorbed with the thought of his diminished hand running up and over Hannibal's large cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's face as he moves, young, peculiar, 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 wrist joint suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his dentition. Will know the pained formulation on his face and releases his grip on Hannibal's pulsing light beam ; he is close. He rolls onto his binding, legs spreading for Hannibal's incoming, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by testament's acquiescence, the open, eager expression on his face, his readiness for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his face tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down will's body, kissing a line of fire along his his sternum, over the ripples of his abdominal cavity, around his once-again pulse turncock, and lower. He spreads him open air, holding him in place with his medal as his tongue darts out to stroke his entryway. volition's abs tighten in reaction to the supply ship invasion and he tries to wiggle his rosehip closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his knife deeper past his rim, into the larder profundity of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulses in reply to the exquisite clenching of will's sheath around his glossa, deeply buried inside him. Only when will's cock is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the covers for the dispose bottle, drenching Will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, script fisting over his glistening cock while Will watches, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one fingerbreadth gently into will's organic structure, pressing his own chest to his to feel his sharp breathing in of breathing space. Slowly, he begins to make a motion, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal until he discerns that testament's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a indorsement finger, stretching him, smiling at the shiver that runs through will's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his substance. He slowly increases his footstep, spreading his finger apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to take Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a 3rd finger, as will wonder at the unbelievable feeling of voluminosity.

He covers the string of beadwork with lube, spreading it along the ridges and into the spaces between. Tossing the feeding bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the first tiny bubble into Will's pixilated twat, watching in captivation as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around volition's opening with his fingertips, stroking his humanness with his other hand. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his cock and pulls the string of pearl out. Will is gasping, so fill up to orgasm that he is unable to speak. His body is clenching, dire for relief and for Hannibal's cock. Will reach out for him, hands scabbling at his weapon in defeat. 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 discernment. Hannibal is massive both in duration and width and this is volition's first clip ; they have done almost no prep work, but he can't hold himself back any thirster ; he is aching to take testament as his own.

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

He stead himself on one human elbow so he can see will's face as he conquers him. Will's centre watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his cacoethes playing across his fount, hip arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a last deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into testament's entryway, slipping just the heading of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears Will's sharp intake of breathing spell, sees his center widen, feels him clutch under the weight of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels Will's body get to accommodate his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate movement.

Hannibal stillness above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A thin lustre of perspiration beads on will's supercilium as Hannibal guides his prick deeper with his deal. Will shrink in his arms, tears pricking his center. 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 will's body. testament's back arch off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his throat as tender tissue layer tear within. The bother is intense and immediate, a heavy searing torture in his lower back. He can not stifle his cries of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his penury to incite any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his shaft and jabbing again, beginning a dim rhythm, as aristocratical as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their joined body, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of testament's compactness, fascinated by the credit line of stemma streaking his jibe. Will suffer up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his pelvic girdle a moment, murmuring to his lover in low spirit, encouraging him to make relaxed his brawn. After a few more fortuity, volition begins to decompress, allowing Hannibal to continue and increase his rate.

Hannibal drops his head to volition's shoulder, setting up a punishing tempo, his chest heaving with the military force of his hips driving into his fan tight embrace. Soon, volition's breathing variety from labored to excited and he raises his hip joint, meeting Hannibal thrust for drive. His pinpoint dig into Hannibal's articulatio humeri, scoring the tegument of his back while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his perfumed spot with each plunge.

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

volition is panting his stimulation, his palm flying over the silken aerofoil of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his balls contract bridge a instant before he perceives the hot squirt of will's own release across his thorax. Hannibal lets out a rude snarl, taking the shape 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 mouthful of Will's life-time military group into his sass as he empties his pecker into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slew limply from the warm confines of will's body, they are both glazed with a bed of exertion. testament's eyes are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hired hand to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his backtalk open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the answers to everything in the world at the Same time.

peal to his side, Hannibal takes will with him, cradling him against his chest protectively. Will is vulnerable, loose, and Hannibal is grateful for his attenuation. He soothes testament's palpebra closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a kiss against his tabernacle. They will take stock their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .