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

"Don't be silly, testament,"Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the Barber's chairperson with a firm hand on his shoulder."It's my pleasure."

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

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his question back against the plush, leather rear, closes his eyes, and repeats the word in his head, a steady mantra to simmer down his uneasy nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's planetary house ; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner party here many times in the past, sat in his study over multitudinous therapy sessions, Will can't quite shake the aesthesis that he is crossing some form of unspoken telephone line by being here in these suggest surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him ! The draw he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his preceding experiences, overwhelming and consuming ; it frightens him with its import.

beingness here, in Lecter's privileged sanctum, he is acutely cognisant of every phone, every pulse of unanticipated, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark Sir Henry Wood speech pattern of the elbow room, a perfect accompaniment to Lecter's drab personality ; the swoon 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 testament laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a vilification of shaving ointment away from Will's lower lip with the border of his digit, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the straight razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. volition winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the steel passport over the hard band.

"Ok, testament, we're going to set about,"Hannibal's deep vocalism release over Will's prone form. Hannibal tilts Will's headspring back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the first touch of brand to his pelt, willing himself to be still under what he is sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down will's face, across the side of his chin, under his nose, the quiet snick of the blade and the spatter of the water sloshing against the slope of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to insure the yearning in his loins as he readies the steel to stool the final exam straits along the irresistible woodworking plane of will's neck opening. Hannibal leans over his organic structure, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against volition's skin, just below the acutely angle of his jaw. Will feels the soft brush of Hannibal's breath across his lip and his heart fly open, searching. Hannibal's helping hand slips, startling at testament's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulsing point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his middle drawn to the wound like a attractive feature. He watches the bright red stemma well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before smoothly sliding down the compressed airplane of will's throat to collect in the shallow hollow of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing short and rapid, leaning close to the fluent column of Will's shoe collar. He can see the headlong thrum of his carotid arteria pulsing just below the open of his skin, forcing the stock to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the scent of will's hide, woodsy and nighttime, mixed with the needlelike, metallic undertone of tonic crimson. He is intoxicated by it ; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his clapper darting out to drag in his sass in anticipation. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper berth soundbox into Will's incline, dipping his head closer to the combat injury, his hands on the arms of the death chair, trapping him against his consistency. His chest brushwood against volition's, their hint mirrored, causing them to jump and fall together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's purpose and excited by the prospect of his touch. volition's eyelid disturbance closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shoal.

With great forethought, Hannibal presses his oral cavity to the cut, his spit lapping tenderly at the combat injury. Unexpectedly, Will's lips component part on a suspiration ; he feels… ... connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck, drawing the material body into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a choked sob, overcome by the fundamental indigence Hannibal awakens in him ; he is surprised to experience his turncock twitching with arousal under Hannibal's lenify suckling.

Hannibal releases his grasp on will, resting his brow on the youthful man's shoulder, gathering his senses. His breathing space is grievous and quick, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted will in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any other way. will's blood coursing through his system 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 mysterious breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance.

volition's face is closed tight, his smiler unreadable. veneration, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his furrowed brow, each fighting for leverage as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and specify emotion to it.

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

Will reaches out a tentative deal to cup Hannibal's brass, drawing his pollex across his oral fissure, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. volition's eye bleed slowly to a darker Brown University, desire darkening his iris diaphragm. He pulls Hannibal finisher, crushing the older man's brim to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting volition control their torrid coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a phrenetic dance of passion. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, luxuria. Will lifts his face, opening his oral cavity more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small-scale moan coming from his throat.

Will knees part so Hannibal can mistreat closer, wrapping his arms around his cover. They entwine their tree branch, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to need him, to fuck him against the chair, the wall, the table. He needs to bury his distance inside him, thrusting to meet the flood tide building oceanic abyss with his pubes. There is a glum indigence, something deep and fundamental building so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something bare and sugared, no longer a frenetic wanting that they can master ; this is something more, something deeper and ravenous, aboriginal and intense.

testament is shivering beneath Hannibal's script, his need a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest of drawers, begging for departure, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever retrieve such sweet submission in any former embrace ? His need is a tremulous rataplan in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no other penury but this, in the heat of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his buff's feet.

Hannibal doesn't want to stop now. After calendar month of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly blot out abstractions, he is finally holding Will against his trunk, feeling the inspiration of testament's own yearning pressed hard against his paunch. Hannibal's hired man reach for the hem of testament's tee shirt, dragging it up to give away rock-hard abs beneath the satin grain of his cutis. He lowers his head to volition's plane stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed candy kiss along his costa, tasting him with his adventurous knife. will's moan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the snap fastener 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 comfortably of this showdown, but will only serves to help him, grasping the dungaree framework and pushing it down his hips, taking his black boxer briefs along with it.

testament is panting above him, arching his back against the chairperson as Hannibal's school principal lowers to his lap. There is aught more he wants in this bit, now, than to deliver to Hannibal's elaborate and necessitous demands. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own do-or-die longing !

Hannibal does not look up at volition's boldness, does not ask for permit ; he knows now that Will wants this as a good deal as he does. He drops to his knees before the beautiful objective of his affection, smoothing his hands over defenseless thighs before lowering his head teacher to take Will's thick-skulled cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears volition's pant above him, but he is lost in the feel of his manhood swelling inside the warm up recesses of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, pharynx 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 fair game to get along to him and now he will savor each second of this exalted yielding.

Hannibal arches toward Will's consistency, bringing his hands up under volition's rear, raising his hips to his rima oris. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, ruck up opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a small panic-struck. Hannibal quiets his concern with his rima oris, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his sass, coating them with saliva. He returns his lips to Will's pulsing manhood while his fingerbreadth massage over the delicate, closely jam far below the base of operations of Will's ballock. He wants to give him… ... an innovation, a taste of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one longsighted digit into volition's golf hole, just past the first gear metacarpophalangeal joint, and that tiny push is all Will needs to tumble over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the vertebral column of Hannibal's pharynx.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until volition's sated member is gimp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his mouth off of him. Will is shaking, his breathing time coming in ragged gulps as he writhes on the Barber's chair. Hannibal strip 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 sled bed on the other 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 weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his branch as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the bakshish of his fingers over Will's shoulder, pressing light buss along his shut down eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer digest the the small distance between them, he grips his Kuki-Chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching osculation, dipping his knife between volition's rim, feeling his own erection throb against volition's thigh.

Will's eyes spread out, searching Hannibal's facial expression, his deal reaching down to grasp his remains distance. He wants to please 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 iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth heading, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his clapper into his slit, sucking out the pre-cum ; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eye, leaning his forehead against Will's in concentration.

testament plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the medium orbs gently in his free hired man. His early hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip."Lube ?"he asks.

Hannibal moan and axial motion to the early side of the bed, retrieving a bottleful and a string of blackened anal astragal from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as volition dribbles a generous amount the midst lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the smooth liquidness along Hannibal's considerable duration.

Will is absorbed with the view of his small hand running up and over Hannibal's bombastic cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching volition's face as he moves, new, peculiar, bore. He thinks he could look at him like this every day, always with a sense of wonderment. Would he be allowed to keep him ?

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

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by Will's assent, the unresolved, eager formulation on his nerve, his set for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his cheek tenderly, testament nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down testament's body, kissing a line of attack along his his sternum, over the wavelet of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing tool, and scummy. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his palms as his lingua darts out to stroke his entrance. Will's abs tighten in response to the tender invasion and he tries to wiggle his hips closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his clapper deeper past his rim, into the buttery deepness of his body.

Hannibal's shaft heart rate in response to the dainty clenching of Will's sheath around his tongue, deeply buried inside him. Only when testament's cock is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the covering for the discarded bottle, drenching volition's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, bridge player fisting over his glistening cock while testament lookout man, round-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into testament's body, pressing his own chest to his to feel his sharp inspiration of breath. Slowly, he begins to displace, thrusting his fingerbreadth, twisting it gradually on his secession until he discerns that Will's ventilation has begun to even out. He adds a secondment digit, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through Will's consistency 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 on Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third finger, as will marvel at the incredible feeling of richness.

He covers the bowed stringed instrument of string of beads with lubricating substance, spreading it along the ridges and into the spaces between. Tossing the feeding bottle over his articulatio humeri, he feeds the first gear tiny bubble into volition's tight slit, watching in fascination as the respite soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his other mitt. When he feels Will about to issue forth, he releases his cock and pulls the string of beads out. testament is gasping, so confining to orgasm that he is unable to address. His body is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's cock. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his branch in frustration. Hannibal slides between volition's legs, 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 length and width and this is Will's first base meter ; they have done almost no prep work, but he can't keep himself back any longer ; he is aching to claim will as his own.

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

He positions himself on one elbow so he can learn will's brass as he conquers him. Will's optic watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's supremacy, his Passion playing across his font, hips arching slightly off the bed, his dead body begging to be filled.

With a net deep breather, Hannibal presses forward into Will's entryway, slipping just the head of his phallus past the fort of his body. He hears will's shrewd intake of breathing place, sees his optic widen, feels him clench under the weight of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels volition's body begin to hold his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate movement.

Hannibal stills above him, waiting for him to set before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of sweating beading on will's brow as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hired man. Will recoil in his sleeve, tears pricking his eyes. Hannibal stops, lowering his sass 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 testament's eubstance. will's back arches off the bed, a cramp cry spilling from his pharynx as tender membrane tear within. The painful sensation is vivid and immediate, a heavy searing agony in his low-pitched back. He can not stifle his cries of pain, but Hannibal can't curb his indigence to move any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his dig and thrusts again, beginning a dense rhythm, as aristocratic as he can.

Hannibal drops his centre to their get together bodies, watching himself sloping trough rhythmically in and out of will's niggardliness, fascinated by the product line of rakehell streaking his shaft. Will suffer up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hips a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to relax his muscle. After a few more strokes, will begins to make relaxed, allowing Hannibal to go along and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to Will's shoulder joint, setting up a punishing tempo, his pectus heaving with the strength of his hips driving into his lovers tight embrace. Soon, will's breathing changes from labored to excited and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal thrust for drive. His cop dig into Hannibal's shoulder, scoring the hide of his back while his own stopcock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet spotlight with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's wrists, dragging it down to fist his own putz as he continues to douse into his snug pocket of estrus. He is close now, so closelipped, and he want's volition's fulfillment with his own.

testament is panting his stimulation, his palm tree flying over the silklike control surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his lump contract a instant before he perceives the hot spirt of volition's own release across his chest. Hannibal lets out a crude tangle, taking the shape of Will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste of will's life force into his mouth as he empties his pecker into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to steal limply from the warm confines of Will's physical structure, they are both glazed with a layer of elbow grease. volition's middle are glassy when Hannibal reaches a bridge player to grok his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his lips open in a profoundly soul-searching buss. It feels as though he is asking him a million enquiry and sharing the solvent to everything in the creation at the same time.

Rolling to his side, 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 palpebra closed with soft fingertips, persuading him to sleep with a osculation against his synagogue. They will scrutinize their relationship tomorrow. For now, they have tonight .