Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Test me.

Hannibal’s words echoed in Will’s brain, as they had persistently over the last few days.  They hadn’t spoken of it again.  Hannibal had made no overtures or insinuations, no subtle or overt reminders of what had been promised.  Once in a while, Will would catch a note of something in his eyes as Hannibal watched him, but only ever for a moment. 

Test me.

Will leaned back into the armchair he was seated in and studied Hannibal through narrowed eyes.  The man’s back was turned to him as he browsed over the collection of carefully arranged vinyl records.

“Any requests?” Hannibal asked, not looking at him. 

Will hummed thoughtfully.  “Nothing too bombastic, if you don’t mind.” 

Hannibal shot a mirthful glance over his shoulder, and then quickly selected a disk with nimble fingers.  Soon, the lilting sounds of strings softly filled the room, and Will’s mouth curved into a smile. 

Test me.

They’d wandered in here to the sitting room after dinner without much discussion.  Hannibal seemed able to sense and almost predict Will’s moods these days—when he wanted to talk, when he wanted to be silent, when he wanted company and when he wanted to be left alone.  When he wanted to fuck, or be fucked.  When he wanted Hannibal’s mouth or his ass or his cock or his hands. 

Or maybe Hannibal was simply well prepared and good at responding to the moment, Will reflected, thinking back to the day before.  They’d driven down to the water and shared a bottle of wine leaning against the front of the car as they watched sun set low and red on the horizon, a cool evening breeze blowing pleasantly across their faces.  When they’d finished the bottle, Will had had Hannibal bent face first over the hood and yanked down his pants before he’d given any thought to lubrication.  He’d sworn softly under his breath, but Hannibal had simply slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a miniature squeeze bottle, holding it without comment at the small of his back for Will to take. 

Will had fucked him with extra vigor after that, a stream of words pouring from his mouth that were both complimentary and obscene.

Test me. 

Hannibal had gone into town today, for supplies and to amuse himself charming the locals.  Will sometimes went with him, sometimes didn’t.  He hadn’t today, just busied himself about the house till Hannibal returned.  But a trip out always meant that Hannibal dressed up a bit, with a full suit and tie, complete with vest and silk kerchief decoratively placed in his front breast pocket. 

Will looked over what Hannibal wore now, the lines of the suit perfectly fitted to his form.  The colors were lighter and the fabric more breathable than back in Baltimore, but it still reminded Will of those days—of Hannibal’s office and dining room and of yellow police tape. 

Test me. 

“Make me a drink.” 

The words left his mouth before Will had fully made the decision to speak, stopping Hannibal before he could take his seat across from him.  Hannibal paused, eyes coming to rest on Will curiously.  Will’s tone hadn’t been harsh, or uncivil, but it also made very clear that he hadn’t been making a request. 

“Of course,” Hannibal said amiably, back straightening.  He walked to the liquor cabinet.  “What would you like?” 

“Whiskey.  Neat.” Will replied. 

Hannibal kept his eyes on what he was doing, selecting a glass and pouring the whiskey with graceful efficiency.  Will kept his eyes on Hannibal, rolling over the beginnings of a design forming in his mind. 

Hannibal handed him his drink, eyes flicking up to meet Will’s as he took it, and then turned to sit in the second armchair, crossing his legs and tilting his head as Will raised the glass to his lips.  Will closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing burn of the whiskey as it swirled about his mouth, and then set the glass down with his fingers still wrapped around it, licking his lips. 

Hannibal watched him, focused and quietly considering.  He could sense something, Will could tell, and was waiting to see what Will would do next. 

“Do you enjoy sucking my cock, Hannibal?” Will asked, flat and conversational. 

Hannibal blinked.  Then his expression grew subtly warm, with the slightest hint of a smirk. 

“Yes,” Hannibal answered easily.  “Immensely.”

“Hmm,” Will hummed.  He brought his whiskey back to his lips.  “Would you like to suck me right now?” he asked, letting his knees fall open lewdly as he peered over the rim of his glass.

Hannibal’s gaze immediately turned hungry, lips parting instinctively as the tip of his tongue flicked across his teeth.  He leaned forward to stand, shoulders rolling like a jaguar’s. 

“Un-uh-ah,” Will said as he swallowed, stopping Hannibal with a pointed finger and a firm look.  He shook his head.  “Not yet.” 

Hannibal paused mid-motion, still seated, turning his head slightly to one side as he looked at Will, cautiously questioning. 

“Since you enjoy it so much,” Will said, setting his whiskey back down with a smirk.  “That can be your reward.” 

Understanding sparked in Hannibal’s eyes, and he sat calmly back into his chair. 

“And what…tricks will I be performing to earn this reward?” Hannibal purred, a teasing glint in his eye. 

The corners of Will’s mouth curved, a bright warmth spreading through his belly.

“Let’s start with…sit,” Will said, his tongue clicking precisely over the consonants.  “And stay.” 

Something flickered across Hannibal’s face as he spoke, a trace of electrified tension threading into his relaxed stillness.  Will regarded Hannibal evenly, sliding his eyes down his body. 

“Put your feet flat on the floor and your hands on the arms of your chair, and keep them there,” he instructed clearly.  “You’re not to move, at all, unless I say you can.”  He lifted an eyebrow.  “Is that clear?”

Hannibal stared back, unblinking.  Then, he nodded, once.  Carefully, he arranged himself as he’d been told to, and sat back with his spine, shoulders, and head resting against the back of the chair.  He let out a long, deep, relaxed sigh; he appeared utterly composed and untroubled, like there was nothing out of the ordinary and he’d simply chosen that position of his own accord.  He stared across at Will placidly—confident, serene, and with just the tiniest glimmer of challenging arrogance. 

Will smiled, a dark thrill running through him.

“Good boy,” Will murmured lowly from the back of his throat, and took another sip of his whiskey. 

Hannibal didn’t move, or react in any obvious way, but his eyes suddenly appeared darker and there was a restrained motion to his throat as he swallowed. 

Savoring the whiskey in his mouth, Will took his time swallowing and then set down the glass.  He stood, and lifted his fingers to the top button of his shirt.  Hannibal’s eyes lasered in on his hands, following them as Will worked his way down.  He shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it over the back of the nearby sofa, and then moved his hand to his belt.  He saw Hannibal blink, his breath hitching mutedly, and he smirked. 

Will stripped down till he was completely naked, his movements brusque and disinterested.  He made no attempt at overt seduction, simply pulled off his clothes.  His only possible clear nod toward enticement was his near constant gaze on Hannibal.  Hannibal watched him silently, unmoving but for the intent flickers of his eyes over the planes of Will’s increasingly bared skin.

Will took a moment to stand before Hannibal in his nudity, letting Hannibal’s dark eyes brush over him like a sensuous touch.  If anyone were to see them now—peek in from the outside and see Hannibal sitting regally on his leather upholstered throne wearing a three-piece suit that made him look like a high-rolling businessman or a jet-setting man of leisure, while Will stood naked under his discerning gaze—the power dynamics would seem obvious.  It would be instantly clear to them who was in charge; who held the reins, and who wore the bit, so to speak.  Or, so they would think. 

Smiling to himself, Will sauntered forward and climbed into Hannibal’s lap, straddling his thighs with practiced ease.  Hannibal didn’t quite flinch, but his eyelids blinked, quick and restrained.  Will cupped his palm under the back of Hannibal’s skull, and leaned in.  He brushed his lips against Hannibal’s, featherlight and breezy.  Hannibal let out a low sigh and leaned into the kiss, tilting his face up to seek out Will’s lips.  Will instantly pulled away, yanking Hannibal’s head back against the chair by his hair.

“No,” Will scolded firmly.  “Stay.” 

Hannibal went stiff, a faint blush of pink rising to the curves of his cheekbones.  Will held his gaze, eyes hard, until Hannibal took a slow breath and his face deliberately softened.  His jaw went just a bit slack and his lips parted, delicately passive.  Nodding with a hum of approval, Will brought their lips together again.  This time, Hannibal didn’t move under him, though his lips quivered slightly.  Will deepened the kiss, sucking Hannibal’s bottom lip into his mouth.  He darted his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, and then flicked the tip across the bow that dipped in the center of his upper lip before pulling away with a light nip.  He took a moment to admire Hannibal lips--wet and fetchingly pink--and then impishly slid his fingers under Hannibal’s jacket, plucking the bottle of lube from the inside pocket with a coquettish grin.  Hannibal’s eyelids lowered slightly, the line of his jaw tightening.

Will was already pleasantly aroused, but thinking of Hannibal’s discomfort, and how much more uncomfortable he could make things for him, sent a giddy thrill through him that had his cock jumping delightedly.  He sat up on his knees and popped open the cap on the bottle, squeezing lube into his right hand.  Then he snapped the bottle closed again, wrapped his left arm loosely behind Hannibal’s neck and leaned forward, bracing himself on Hannibal’s shoulder as he reached behind himself and slid his slickened fingers between his cheeks. 

Hannibal’s face sat over Will’s shoulder, his head set a bit under and to the right of Will, almost brushing his chin.  At the first touch to his hole, Will let out a breathy moan and closed his eyes, arching his back slightly.  He pressed one finger inside and moaned again, louder this time, and bit down on his bottom lip.  He was playing it up of course, exaggerating his responses, though the pleasure and arousal underneath were genuine.  He thrust his finger in and out, allowing a deep grunting groan to crawl up his throat in response to the sweet friction inside. 

There was the sound of a shuddering breath, and Will opened his eyes a sliver, smirking as he took in the wretched, trapped look on Hannibal’s face.  He glanced over to look Hannibal’s hands, still held obediently to the arms of the chair, and pushed a second finger into his hole.  He let his body undulate as he did, mewling wantonly as he pressed back into his fingers.  Hannibal’s fingers twitched against the leather in response, knuckles turning white as he gripped the arm tighter.  Will’s lip curled, and he turned back to Hannibal with a satisfied smirk. 

“You wanna touch me, Hannibal?” he asked breathily, blowing air into Hannibal’s face.  Hannibal looked like he wanted to flinch away, but he held firm, eyes staring straight ahead, flat and restrained.  “You wish it was your fingers opening me up, getting me ready?”  Will leaned in, laying his lips to Hannibal’s cheek.  “Making me all wide and wet and ripe to be fucked…just begging for you to fill me up and make me come.”  Will lowered his voice to a throaty whisper.  “Like no one but you.  Ever.  Has.” 

A low gurgling came from behind Hannibal throat, and Will grinned.  He gave a playful bite to the highest point of Hannibal’s cheekbone—a light-hearted mimicry of the bite he’d taken out of Cordell’s face at Muskrat Farm, when Hannibal had smiled at him like he’d made to sun come out—and pulled back so Hannibal could see him.  He added another finger to the two already working inside him, throwing his head back as all three breached him.

“Ungh,” Will cried ecstatically.  “Ahhhng.  Ohhh.  Mmmmm.” 

Hannibal looked a bit like he wanted to make some slanted comment about Will’s flagrant display, but was far to distracted by it to actually do so.  His brow glistened as he perspired from the strain of remaining immobile, his chest heaving as he took deep, deliberate breaths through his nose.  His eyes looked dazed and half-wild, like he were looking at something both dangerous and beautiful, and he knew he should run, but was too hypnotized by the sight to try. 

It was, to say the least, intensely satisfying, as far as Will was concerned. 

I’m gonna push you, Will thought decisively, directing the words silently in Hannibal’s direction.  I’m gonna push you till you break. 

It was the first time any clear objective or purpose had formed in Will’s mind, and he shivered as the notion solidified into fixed intent, accompanied by a tingling flash of unease. 

'If you play.  You pay.' 

The old words came back to him, crackling with menace, and Will swallowed thickly.  He looked down at Hannibal’s face, dark and hungry and straining with controlled, vibrating tension.

He was willing to pay.  There was really no other choice.  Not anymore. 

Resolved, Will pulled his fingers from his ass with a sigh, and reached down to undo Hannibal’s belt. 

“Now,” Will said sternly.  “If you come before I’m finished…”  He shot Hannibal a hard glare and punctuated his words with firm tugs as he undid Hannibal’s buckle.  “I’m going to be very, very cross with you.”  He arched an eyebrow, his fingers hovering over Hannibal’s fly.  “Understood?” 

Hannibal, looking a touch haggard under his veil of stoicism, said nothing.  His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and his eyes avoided meeting Will’s gaze.  Then, he gave a firm, silent nod, his eyes snapping shut as Will proceeded to undo the front of his trousers.  Will unzipped carefully around the obvious bulge there, and then reached inside to wrap his hand around Hannibal’s cock.  Hannibal sucked in a breath as he touched him, and Will smiled, grimly satisfied, as he pulled him out of his pants. 

Hannibal stood fully erect, hard and leaking, and Will groaned at the sight of it, his own cock twitching excitedly.  He was all at once desperate to have it in him, and his ass clenched wetly around its emptiness.  He quickly coated the shaft and positioned himself, sinking down with a contented moan. 

“Fuck,” Will gasped, and there was no exaggeration here, no need to play anything up.  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted.  “You always feel so good.” 

Will began sliding up and down Hannibal’s cock, riding him with a selfish indulgence.  He held nothing back, closing his eyes and crying out at every exquisite touch of Hannibal inside him—moaning and grunting and letting out indecent and ecstatic exclamations of yes and fuck and Jesus Christ God damn it. 

Hannibal stayed quiet and still as a corpse, his radiating warmth and restrained energy the only distinction.  Will knew Hannibal was dying to touch him, to hold him, to lavish him with kisses.  Usually in this position, Hannibal was quick to wrap an arm around Will’s waist, supporting and embracing him with a firm and gentle hand to his back; to reach between them and stroke Will’s cock, tender and deliberate in his motions; to lay his lips and tongue to the curve of Will’s neck, or wrap his mouth around a nipple and suck just hard enough to make Will scream—always eager to please and greedy to participate in Will’s pleasure. 

Now, he could only watch. 

Will took his own cock in hand and worked himself, grabbing onto the fabric Hannibal’s jacket with his other hand to steady himself—he’d dropped the lube at some point; he didn’t remember when—and opened his eyes to look at Hannibal’s face.  Hannibal’s expression had a kind of vacant, fixed wretchedness to it, the look of a desperate man holding onto his last thread with all the strength he had.  There was an…agonized beauty to it, and Will felt a crack of tenderness worm into his chest making him want to end the misery he saw, even as part of him still reveled in Hannibal’s torment.      

A scrap of mercy, Will told himself.  Just a touch of reprieve might soften Hannibal for what was to come, make it sting all the more.  That was as good a justification as any, as Will suddenly very much wanted Hannibal to come inside him. 

Right.  Now. 

“I’m close,” Will whispered to Hannibal.  The threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Hannibal’s neck.  “Come in me,” he demanded.  He leaned in, till their lips were nearly touching.  “Right now, Hannibal.”  He pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s.  “Come with me.” 

There was a jolt from under him as Hannibal’s hips bucked, and Will cried out, throwing his head back as his own orgasm hit.  He came into his hand, sliding his palm and fingers over the head of his cock as it gushed hot cum, a matching wetness filling his insides.  He opened his eyes with a gasp, blinking rapidly as came back to himself.  Hannibal was panting weakly, sweat pouring down the sides of his face.  He hadn’t moved, Will noted smugly, his hands and feet staying rigidly in place even through his orgasm.

Will let out a sigh, settling into Hannibal lap, enjoying the feeling of Hannibal’s cock softening within him.  He lifted his hand from his own cock, absently stretching his cum-stained fingers.  

“Want a taste?” Will asked Hannibal, wriggling his fingers in front of his face.  Hannibal nostrils flared, and Will could almost see him salivate.  With a self-satisfied smile, Will began to bring his hand to Hannibal’s mouth, then pulled back sharply as Hannibal’s lips parted in anticipation.  “If I let you,” Will warned, wagging a cum-covered index finger.  “Then you don’t get to swallow later.”  Will watched Hannibal’s eyes track back and forth, taking that in.  “You still want it?” Will asked, holding up his hand.

Hannibal hesitated.  Will could see him mulling it over—he could lick up Will’s cum now, sitting warm and tantalizing in front of him, or wait and swallow it down with his mouth wrapped round Will’s cock.  Normally, Hannibal had little trouble with delaying gratification, forgoing the immediate reward for something sweeter later on, but Hannibal’s self-control was perhaps not at its best at the moment. 

Hannibal’s eyes stared fixedly at Will’s hand.  He nodded. 

Will brought his hand to Hannibal’s mouth, starting with the fingers.  Without his own hands at his disposal, Hannibal couldn’t hold Will’s hand to his mouth and devour the mess sticking to it at his own discretion.  No, now he was forced to take what he was given, as he was given it, and Will had him suck each finger in turn before offering first his palm and then the back of his hand to be licked.  Like a puppy, Will thought wryly, watching Hannibal’s tongue lap at his inner wrist. 

When he’d finished, Will flashed a cheeky grin and snatched Hannibal’s kerchief from his pocket with a flourish.  He wiped his hand with it, and then sat up on his knees, allowing Hannibal’s cock to slip wetly out of him.  Leaning forward, Will braced himself on the back of the chair and—as he eyed Hannibal with a smirk—reached behind and used the patterned silk to clean Hannibal’s cum from between his cheeks.  After, he folded the dirty cloth in the loose square, and tucked it pertly back into Hannibal’s front pocket. 

Still smirking, he then carefully put Hannibal’s cock back inside his pants and did up the front of his trousers.  He buckled his belt closed and, with a dry peck to Hannibal’s lips, bounced up off his lap to saunter back to his chair.  He sat down, naked and sprawling, into the leather seat and picked up his glass of whiskey, still half full.  He lifted it in a sort of toast and took a sip, arching an eyebrow at Hannibal over the rim of the glass. 

Hannibal watched all this with a bland weariness and faint amusement.  It was a look that sat somewhere between a sarcastic ‘You must be very pleased with yourself’ and a sincere ‘You should be very pleased with yourself.  Well done.’ 

Oh, we’re not near done, Will replied back with his eyes.  

Will set down his whiskey and sat back in his chair, letting his legs fall open even wider. 

“Speak.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s your next ‘trick’,” Will explained, running a finger round the rim of his glass. “Speak.” 

There was a pause.  “What would you have me say,” Hannibal asked mildly. 

Will took in a breath, considering.  “I fucked you pretty hard the other evening,” he said, conversationally.  “Your hole looked all red and raw when I was done.” He shot Hannibal a look.  “You still sore now?”

Hannibal glared back mutely.  “Yes.  Though it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he added with a hint of haughtiness. 

Will’s lip quirked.  “I never implied it wasn’t.”  He flicked his eyes down and up again.  “Could you feel it, as I was riding you?  Did your hole hurt just a bit more each time I pushed you down into your seat?  Did it remind you of when I was inside you, while you were inside me?”

Hannibal’s jaw tensed, just for a moment.  “Yes,” he answered.

Satisfied, Will took a another drink.  He swallowed, letting out a breathy ahh as the whiskey ran down his throat.

“You’re such a cock slut for me, Hannibal,” Will went on, casually fiddling with his glass.  “Eager to take it from both ends.  Aren’t you?”

Hannibal gave a hint of a shrug.  “So it would seem.” 

“Say it, Hannibal,” Will prompted. 

Hannibal blinked, and then sniffed.  “I’m a cock slut.” 

“My cock slut,” Will corrected.

“Your cock slut, yes,” Hannibal agreed.  “I am, indeed, always quite pleased to take you inside me, Will,” he said, with a faint smirk. 

Will let that slide, and took another sip of whiskey.         

“Would you let me use you, Hannibal?  Whenever, however I wanted?”  Will kept his tone light, but his eyes were clear and intent as he held Hannibal’s gaze.  “Your ass, your mouth, your cock—all mine, to do…whatever I chose?"  He swirled the whiskey in his glass.  "Would you get on your knees when I told you to, spread your legs when I told you to, get yourself hard, or wet and stretched when I told you to, immediately and without question?” 

Hannibal’s face didn't move, there was no twitch or flinch to give him away, but his cheeks had grown steadily pinker as Will spoke. 

“Yes,” Hannibal said hoarsely.  “I would…” he trailed off, voice strained.

“You’d love it,” Will supplied, finishing the sentence for him.  “You'd want me to.  Wouldn't you.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal said, an earnest note bleeding into his voice.  “I have discovered the heights of euphoria while at your mercy.  To be used for your pleasure…to submit entirely to your desires--I can think of no greater thrill, or ecstasy.” 

Will found his thighs clenching at that, a shiver running through his stomach.  “So,” Will said, taking another sip to regain his composure.  “You want to be my bitch, then.”

Hannibal stared at him a moment, and then tilted his head, inhaling through his nose.  “Given our current exercise, it seems apparent that I already am,” he replied, cool and unruffled.

Will’s lips curved upwards, giddy and wicked.  “I suppose you’re right.”  He paused, pointedly.  “Say it.” 

Hannibal grew impossibly even more still, and the silence stretched between them.   

“Speak, Hannibal,” Will snapped impatiently.

Hannibal’s throat clenched.  He took a breath.  “I’m your bitch,” he recited robotically. 

Will’s eyes narrowed.  “Good, Hannibal,” he praised condescendingly.  “Now, again, and mean it.” 

At that, there was a tiny, barely observable tremor in Hannibal lip.  His eyes lowered, closing half-way, and then shut completely with a snap.  He seemed to sway, his neck curving as his head tilted to one side.  Tiny muscle contractions belied a much greater storm underneath.  When he opened his eyes again, Will wasn’t sure what to name the emotions he saw in his face, only that they made him think of rain, and blood, and the touch of steel in his hand. 

“I’m your bitch,” Hannibal said, his voice dark and low, like his voice was being torn from his chest.  As the last word left his mouth, Hannibal shuddered, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes again, like the words had cut something in him. 

“Good boy,” Will said, arousal unfurling in his belly like black smoke.  Hannibal’s eyes squeezed tighter at the words, and he shuddered.  “You’ve done very well, Hannibal,” Will went on, keeping his tone aloof and slightly patronizing.  “Just one more ‘trick’…and then you’ll have your reward.” 

Hannibal’s eyes blinked open, and he gazed at Will, lips parted and eyes slightly damp. 

“Now,” Will said languidly.  He patted his thigh.  “Heel.” 

Hannibal let out a breath, the air puffing out of him in a low rush.  Then he stood.  It was like the stone of a statue cracking and breaking away to reveal a living body underneath, filled with strength and fire: the Atlas Slave, at last emerging from his marble to break the world. 

Hannibal took two steps forward, radiating power, and then dropped to his knees at Will’s feet.  He looked up at Will, his eyes feverish, his masked control slipping to show the raw aching underneath. 

Will licked his lips, his cock hard and throbbing between his thighs.  He felt slightly drunk—dizzy and temerarious, his blood pumping loud and brashly in his ears.

“Such a good boy,” Will murmured, his voice breathless and distant.  “I’d say you’ve earned your reward.  Just one more thing.”  He shot Hannibal cool, biting look.  “Say, please.” 

Hannibal blinked, long and slow, and then let out a resigned sigh.  “Please.” 

It wasn’t exactly an ardent plea, but Will was willing to accept it.  He gave Hannibal a little nod with his chin.  “All right.  Go ahead and suck me with that cock slut mouth of yours.”

Hannibal gave a tiny shiver, eyelids fluttering, then placed his hands on Will’s thighs and buried his face in his crotch.  Will drew in a long breath as Hannibal set his nose in his pubic hair and took a long sniff, moaning faintly as the scent reached his nostrils.  He turned his face to one side, nuzzling his cheek against Will’s cock, and slid the head into his open mouth, taking him down to the root in one smooth gulp. 

Will’s hips shuddered and he let out a choked gasp as he was instantly consumed in searing wet heat.  Hannibal gave a long suck, cheeks hollowing, and then gave a deep groan around Will’s cock, eyes closing in abject pleasure.  He sucked again, and Will bit back a whimper, the pressure veering just a little too close to painful.  Hannibal drew part-way off Will’s cock and then pushed back down all the way, his nose pressing hard into Will’s lower belly.  Hannibal throat worked and swallowed, constricting and stroking along Will's cock as Hannibal released another eager, muffled groan. 

This was not the enthusiastic but still carefully controlled blowjobs Will had grown used to.  No, this was Hannibal taking his reward and seeking his own pleasure with fervid, animalistic wantonness.  He fucked his throat on Will’s cock, swallowing and sucking with desperate need.  Saliva dripped from around his lips while the unrestrained sounds of his gluttonous revelry were muffled only by the cock stuffing his mouth. 

The hands on Will’s thighs dug and kneaded into the muscle, gripping like Hannibal needed an anchor to hold on to.  Will had a similar grip on the arms of his chair, trying his best to ride through the onslaught on his cock while giving Hannibal free rein to enjoy himself.  When Hannibal dropped one of his hands from Will’s thigh to grip himself between his legs though, Will wasn't about to let him have his way so easily.

“No,” Will snapped and grabbed Hannibal by the hair, his other hand taking hold Hannibal’s upper arm and wrenching his hand away from his crotch.  Hannibal let out a pitifully muted whine as Will took hold of his wrist.  “This is your reward,” Will said, jerking Hannibal’s head forward so his cock was forced further down his throat.  “Understand?”  Hannibal whimpered around Will’s cock, and gave a tiny, baleful nod as best he could.  “Good,” Will grunted, and released Hannibal’s wrist. 

Hannibal brought his hand back to Will’s thigh, a slight tremor to his fingers, and gave Will’s cock a long, luxurious suck, moaning flagrantly in what sounded like a mixture enjoyment and distress.  Will kept his fingers buried in Hannibal’s hair, and let out an approving sigh. 

“What a good bitch you are,” Will commended, smiling as Hannibal mewled piteously, his back arching and curving in clear frustrated arousal.  “So obedient.”  Hannibal mewled again, louder, shoulders shaking.  “And such a slut.  Look at you, mouth stuffed with my cock, moaning and writhing like a well-paid whore.  Could you come just from this, I wonder?  Get off on having my dick jammed down your throat?” 

There was a shiver that shook through Hannibal’s frame then, and let out a long, helpless, whine.  He sucked in a breath through his nose, the sound of it almost like a sob.  His tongue slid along Will’s shaft like he was trying to embrace it while he whimpered into Will’s groin, his throat clenching tightly around the head of Will’s cock.  Will hissed, and suddenly it was his own orgasm that most concerned him. 

“Ung, I’m close,” Will groaned.  “Fuck.”  There was no response from Hannibal, who kept right on sucking.  “Hannibal,” Will said sternly.  “That’s enough.”  Hannibal just moaned, cheeks hollowing around Will’s shaft.  “Hannibal!” Will said sharply, and tugged back on his hair. 

Hannibal resisted, and Will, hardly thinking, slapped him hard across the cheek, feeling a faint vibration of it on his cock through the wall of Hannibal's mouth.  The sound cracked through the room, and Hannibal froze, eyes blinking open, startled and alarmed.  Will dragged him off his cock, spittle trailing in his wake, and held him firmly by the hair. 

“You’re not allowed to swallow, remember?” Will admonished, pulling on Hannibal’s hair slightly for emphases. 

Hannibal’s eyes closed a moment, a pained expression on his face, and nodded weakly. 

“Don’t make me remind you again,” Will warned. 

Hannibal swallowed, and gave another tight nod. 

Will loosened his grip, and Hannibal leaned forward, taking the tip of Will’s cock back into his mouth.  He showed greater restraint this time, keeping most of his attentions to the head, sucking his cheeks in as he swirled his tongue around it.  One hand slid up Will’s thigh to cup his testicles, and when they tightened in his palm Hannibal dutifully pulled off with a wet gasp. 

Will groaned as his orgasm swelled in the pit of his stomach, his fingers tightening in Hannibal’s hair.  He took his shaft in his other hand and held Hannibal in place, spraying cum all over his face in long, gushing spurts.  Hannibal flinched, instinctively closing his eyes and trying to turn his head away.  His lip quivered as he was coated in hot, milky spunk, shaky breaths wracking his frame. 

When Will was spent, Hannibal’s eyes opened a sliver, a crease forming between his brows as he seemed to reflect on what had just been done to him.  He looked slightly rattled, and it occurred to Will that the last time he’d come on Hannibal’s face, Hannibal had been unconscious for it.    

“Such a pretty slut,” Will murmured, wiping the tip of his cock across Hannibal’s parted lips. 

Hannibal lifted his eyes to stare up at Will, his expression dazed.  Then he blinked, lowering his gaze again, his breathing coming in and out harshly through his parted, cum-stained lips. 

Will glanced down between Hannibal legs.  He was still clearly hard, the front of his pants bulging uncomfortably. 

“Hm,” Will commented with disinterested observation, loosening his grip on Hannibal hair to run his fingers through the strands at the back of his neck.  “I’m almost surprised you didn’t come from that, you were enjoying yourself so much.” 

Hannibal swallowed thickly, throat bobbing.  “I…” He began slowly, voice rasping as his jaw worked jerkily around the words.  “Have never achieved orgasm without some direct stimulation.” 

Will’s brow quirked.  “And what if I said,” Will asked, sly and amused.  “I wanted you to refrain from any…‘direct stimulation’.  That I only wanted you to come when I touch you, or when I tell you to touch yourself.  Would you…comply with my wishes?” Will shot Hannibal a challenging look. 

Hannibal was silent.  Then, slowly, he nodded.  “Yes.  If that was what you desired…” He flicked his eyes up, meeting Will’s gaze with an upward tilt of his chin.  “…then, I would serve that desire.” 

“For how long?” Will pressed. 

Hannibal gave a shrug, tilting his head.  “As long as you required.” 

Will lip curled upward.  “In that case,” he said drolly.  “You are hereby forbidden from touching yourself in any way as to give yourself sexual pleasure or satisfaction, unless I expressly instruct you to do so, until further notice.  You’ll come by my hand or at my direction, or not at all.  Am I making myself clear?” 

Hannibal took in a shaky breath, the enormity of what he was agreeing to settling in.  “Yes.”  He swallowed.  “I will do as you command.”  He flicked his eyes up again, a wry quirk coloring his mouth.  “Shall I call you ‘Master,’ as well?” he asked with an amused glint in his eye. 

Will’s eyes narrowed.  With a quick snap of his leg, he brought his right foot between Hannibal’s knees and ground the sole of his bare foot into the bulge at the front of Hannibal’s pants.  Hannibal jerked, letting out a startled gurgle.  Will fisted the hair at the back of Hannibal’s head to keep him from pulling away, dragging him closer and digging his heel against his clothed erection.  Hannibal shook, and gritted his teeth. 

“I’m not sure you’re able to call me anything, at the moment,” Wil observed.  “You seem a tad distracted.”

He rolled his foot over Hannibal’s crotch, and elicited a whining groan.  Hannibal face looked red beneath the splotches of cum, his brow deeply furrowed.  His hips rolled and wriggled, caught between the urges to escape the force of Will’s foot or to thrust against it.  Will was tempted for a moment to make Hannibal come like this, have him spilling inside his specially tailored trousers like a randy teenager under his heel.  But, no; Hannibal had already gotten his reprieve.  Now, it was time to turn up the pressure. 

Test me. 

And I will, Will thought ruefully.  It wouldn’t do to make things easy, after all, he reminded himself.    

What would be the point?

Hannibal bucked into his foot, nearly humping it as he let out a desperate whine.  He was clearly agonizingly close to orgasm. 

At the last second, Will pulled his foot back, releasing his hold on Hannibal’s hair with a callous push.  Hannibal nearly doubled over, and while he was still gasping, Will stood and stepped around him.  He pulled on his boxers and undershirt, and then gathered up the rest of his clothes.  He looked over at Hannibal, who was staring at him, mouth hanging open as he panted weakly, his fingers digging tightly into the knees of his trousers. 

“Goodnight,” Will said, quirking an eyebrow as he peered down his nose at Hannibal on the floor.  He shook his hair out of his face, and then left Hannibal there.  As he climbed the stairs to his room, his heart thumped in his chest. 

He closed the door behind him and got into bed, pulling the covers up.  He lay awake, listening.  After a while, he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the hall.  He half-expected his own door to open, but instead there were just the soft clicks of the door from across the hall opening and closing. 

Will let out a long breath, and finally fell asleep, a light smile dancing at his lips.

That night, he dreamed of Hannibal in a collar.  Will held him on a leash as he lapped happily at Will's cock.  Then, abruptly, Hannibal lunged for Will’s stomach and pulled open his scar with his teeth.  He tore into Will’s intestines, guzzling down blood with as much enthusiasm as when he’d laved at his testicles.  He grinned up at Will, toothy and bloodstained, and licked his lips, his tongue unnaturally thick and long.  Will felt no pain as he was ripped open and eaten, only an odd sense of emptiness as his insides poured out of him.  He reached out a hand and slid his fingers through the soft strands of Hannibal’s hair. 

“Good boy.”                                                       

Chapter Text

Will woke the next morning already hard.  He lazily jerked himself off in the shower, closing his eyes to replay the previous evening over in his mind.  Smiling to himself, he worked his hand over his cock, reveling wickedly in the knowledge that he was indulging in exactly the pleasure he’d denied Hannibal. 

Hannibal could cheat of course, give in to temptation while Will wasn’t looking, but somehow Will knew he wouldn’t.  He’d follow Will’s instructions to letter, and probably make sure Will knew it too.  He wondered how Hannibal would act this morning—sullen?  Indifferent?  Subtly teasing?—and he bounded downstairs after dressing, like a child eager to open their Christmas presents.  

He approached the kitchen, closing his eyes briefly to take in the scents of ham and cheese meeting his nostrils.  A glance told him that the smells were coming from the oven and not the stove.  Hannibal, still in his apron, was putting the finishing touches on two table settings, adding sprigs of mint to fruit salads served in clear crystal.  His back straightened as he heard Will enter. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal said brightly, wiping his hands on his apron. 

Will opened his mouth to return the greeting, and then froze as Hannibal turned and he got a full view of him.  He looked utterly normal—white apron, button down shirt rolled up to his elbows, perfectly pressed slacks and well-combed hair—except that his face was still stained with Will’s cum from the night before, now dry and flaked across his skin. 

“I trust you slept well?” Hannibal spoke his typical inquiry with his eyes glinting knowingly at Will’s gob-smacked expression. 

Will snapped his jaw shut, and Hannibal smirked.  He flashed Will a haughty, heated glance and then turned to check on whatever was in the oven, letting out a pleased hum as he inspected his creation.   

Will bit down on the sides of his tongue and narrowed his eyes.  Squaring his shoulders, Will crossed the room with firm, quick steps.  Hannibal peeked over his shoulder as Will came up behind him, but before he could do anything else Will grabbed hold of the ties of Hannibal’s apron behind the back of his neck and waist, wrenching them in tight fists and yanking Hannibal backwards.  Hannibal stumbled slightly but managed to keep his feet. 

“Will—” Hannibal began, not sounding particularly alarmed. 

“Shut up,” Will hissed behind his ear, and spun them both around, slamming Hannibal face down over the kitchen table.  He took care to avoid Hannibal’s perfectly arranged table setting, but the cutlery and glasses still rattled as he hit the surface.  “Drop your pants.” 

Hannibal panted softly, and looked up at him from the corner of his eye.  “Will, the soufflés will need to come out of the oven in a few minutes—”

“Then I suggest you hurry,” Will said unsympathetically. 

Hannibal paused.  “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m not certain the breakfast table is an appropriate setting.  If—”  Will cut him off with a cruel cackle. 

“Like you care about appropriate,” he sneered.  “You’re just protesting for the sake of it.  You knew exactly what you were doing when you leered at me with that filth all over your face.”  He twisted the cloth around Hannibal’s neck around his fist, tightening it just enough to add a bit of pressure.  Hannibal gasped a bit and lifted his chin, trying to alleviate the discomfort across his throat.  “Since you decided to come down here looking like a whore, I figure you must want to be treated like one.  Now drop.  Your pants.” 

“…It…wasn’t my intention to offend you,” Hannibal said, his voice weak and breathy. 

“No,” Will agreed.  “Your intention was to provoke me.  Consider me provoked.”  He tugged lightly on Hannibal’s neck.  “Don’t make me tell you again,” he warned. 

There was a moment of silence, and then Hannibal reached down and began to undo his belt. 

“Good boy,” Will said approvingly.  “Oh, and I hope for your sake you have some lube stashed on you somewhere.” 

He frowned to himself as soon as the words left his mouth.  What exactly was he threatening?  Would he really fuck Hannibal dry, if it came to that?  Would Hannibal let him? 

Hannibal spared them both from having to answer that question by pulling a small bottle of lubricant from his trouser pocket and placing it delicately on the table next to him.  Will wondered if his preparedness meant he was right about Hannibal expecting this result, or if he simply always kept lube on hand these days.  The first possibility made him vaguely annoyed, and the second incredibly turned on, and the two emotions swirled together in a fiery pit in his stomach.

“Hands on the table,” Will ordered after Hannibal had shoved his pants and underwear down around his knees.  Hannibal obeyed, setting his hands palm down against the surface. 

Will inhaled through his nose and released his hold on Hannibal’s apron strings.  He snatched up the bottle of lube in his fist and squirted some onto his fingers while Hannibal held perfectly still.  He was bent over at the waist with his feet spaced widely apart, his face turned to one side to rest against the table’s surface.  The expression shown on his profile was unreadable. 

Will shoved two fingers into the tight ring of Hannibal’s ass.  He was somewhere between cruel and uncaring as he stretched him, impatiently forcing him open without any gesture towards Hannibal’s comfort.  Hannibal took it all stoically, his breath hitching slightly but otherwise remaining silent.  Then, Will tossed the bottle of lube back on the table and took himself out.  He grabbed Hannibal by the hips and lined up his cock.  He was already hard and starting to leak, and didn’t hesitate at all before slamming inside. 

Hannibal jerked against the table, his fingers curling into half-formed fists as Will pushed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.  He gave Hannibal no time to adjust to the invasion, just withdrew again and proceeded to fuck him mercilessly.  Fast and hard, each thrust was a punishing force that smashed Hannibal into the edge of the table.  Hannibal started with his eyes open, staring out unblinkingly, but eventually he squeezed them tightly shut, his teeth clenched as Will pummeled his hole with his cock.

Will’s fingernails dug into Hannibal’s skin as he came.  At the last second, in an act of spiteful whimsy, he pulled out and sprayed hot cum all over the curves of Hannibal’s ass and upper thighs.  He gasped, throwing his head back he finished, before letting out a deep, satisfied groan. 

The ding of a timer went off. 

Will put himself away, rolled his shoulders, and deftly walked around the table to take his seat. 

“Better grab your soufflés,” Will taunted, unfolding his white cloth napkin with a snap.

Hannibal, still bent over the table with his pants around his knees, looked up wearily.  His hair had fallen across his face and his forehead looked slightly damp.  Swallowing, he slowly pushed himself up and began righting his clothes. 

“Perhaps I should go clean myself up,” Hannibal suggested, grimacing as he pulled his underwear up over his cum-covered bottom. 

“No,” Will said flatly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  “You wanted my cum on you, so now you can keep it.  Indefinitely.  I’ll let you know when you’re allowed to wash.”  He sent Hannibal a glowering look. 

Hannibal looked back blankly, now once again fully dressed.  He dropped his gaze.  Will could see his jaw clench, but he said nothing, just quietly went over and turned off the oven.  He gracefully took two perfect, single serving soufflés from the oven and brought them to the table, setting one ramekin on each of their plates next to the fruit salad.  Next he removed his oven mitts and apron before sitting, just a bit stiffly, in his chair.  He was hard, Will noted, the front of his pants bulging uncomfortably.    

Will lips quirked, and he took a long sip of his coffee.  “So, what are we having for breakfast this morning?” he asked casually. 

Hannibal carefully unfolded his napkin and set it in his lap, keeping his eyes on the place setting in front of him.  “Ham and cheese soufflé, made with gruyere and smoked pork, with a side of Champagne infused fresh fruit garnished with chocolate mint.” 

“Mmm,” Will hummed.  “Sounds delicious.”  He scooped up a generous bite of the fluffy, cheesy egg and popped it into his mouth.  He closed his eyes, making more sounds of appreciation.  “To answer your question,” Will said, taking another spoonful.  “Yes, I slept very well.  Thank you.”  He shot Hannibal an arched look.  “And how did you sleep?” He gestured with his spoon.  “You must have been up early, to get all this done.”  He popped the bit of soufflé into his mouth, and smirked. 

Hannibal glared lowly at him from under his eyelids.  He speared a piece of kiwi with his fork and pulled it into his mouth with a snap. 

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you,” Will said, holding back a laugh.  

“I slept some,” Hannibal protested.  “Though not as well as I might have hoped.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Will said with a smirk.  “It means you didn’t sneak in any relief behind my back,” he added, when Hannibal flashed him an annoyed look. 

Hannibal stared at him a moment, and then turned his eyes back to his plate.  “Did you think I would?” he asked, sounding vaguely insulted.

“No,” Will admitted.  “You wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if you didn’t intend to follow through.  But it’s still nice to have confirmation.” 

Hannibal nodded once, somewhat mollified.  “I don’t suppose I have any ‘relief’ to look forward to presently?” Hannibal inquired, gesturing with his eyes down at the tent in the front of his pants. 

Will bit down on the corners of his mouth to keep from grinning.  “I wouldn’t count on it, no,” he said mildly. 

Hannibal let out a restrained sigh, and turned back to his breakfast a slight jerk of his head. 

“Is that what you were hoping for?” Will asked with private amusement.  “When you pulled this little…stunt.”  He gestured towards Hannibal’s cum-smeared face with his spoon. 

Hannibal didn’t quite blush, but his shoulders shifted discomfitedly.  “My primary motive was simply to see how you would respond.  I’ll admit, I wasn’t anticipating such a…violent reaction.” Will calmly sipped his coffee, refusing to rise to Hannibal’s side-eyed bait.  Hannibal eyes flicked down.  “…I thought you might be pleased,” he said quietly. 

Will set down his coffee, biting back a sigh.  A warm ache twinged under his breastbone.  “I might have been,” he conceded, a wry, rebuking note to his voice.  “If you hadn’t been so smug and self-satisfied about it.” 

Hannibal stilled.  He blinked, and then raised his chin, turning his eyes toward Will with a muted yet piercing expression.  “You mean to humble me.”  He spoke the word humble with a certain reticent distain.  “To ‘put me in my place,’ so to speak.”   

Will sat back in his chair, this time letting his sigh swoosh out of him.  He met Hannibal’s gaze with a bland look of his own.  “You asked me to test you, Hannibal; what did you expect?  Did you think I’d beat you?  Leave you tied up for hours in uncomfortable positions?  Fuck you till you bled?  You and I both know you can handle pain just fine.”  He leaned forward, picking up his cup of coffee and taking a large swallow.  “Humility—true humility—would be a much taller order for you, I think.  A considerably more…revealing test.  Don’t you agree?” 

Hannibal lowered his eyes.  After a moment, he tilted his head in an acknowledging nod.  “You intend to be a cruel master, then,” he said, eyes flashing back to Will.  He was pushing—trying to make Will uncomfortable, to question himself. 

“As cruel as I have to be,” Will replied blithely, shooting Hannibal a cool look as he nipped another bite off his spoon.  Hannibal huffed at Will’s deflection, but Will caught a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.  “And don’t pretend like my cruelty wasn’t exactly what you wanted,” Will added, pitching his voice low. 

A restrained shiver ran through Hannibal, and Will caught a discrete shift of his thighs.

“I mean, look how hard you are,” Will went on, glancing down at Hannibal’s lap with a leer.  “I’d say you like me putting you in your place.” 

There was a sharp hiss as Hannibal inhaled, his body clenching tightly against an obvious stab of arousal.  His eyelids lowered, lips parting as he fought to regain control.  Then, he slid his eyes over to Will, his tongue darting out to dampen his lips. 

“I’ve made no secret of that,” Hannibal said, sounding aloof and vaguely annoyed.  “Your dominance excites me, as my submission excites you.  Were that not the case, we wouldn’t be here to begin with.”

“Don’t get snippy, Hannibal,” Will cautioned, pointing with his spoon for emphases.  “Unless you want to finish eating that soufflé off the floor with your hands tied behind your back.” 

Hannibal’s spine went rigid as his face flushed, contained tension threading through his body.  He swallowed, pressing his lips together, and then quietly set his eyes back on his breakfast. 

“Good boy,” Will praised mirthfully as Hannibal brought his spoon to his mouth.    

They ate mostly in silence after that.  When breakfast was done, they rose and Will helped Hannibal clean up the kitchen.  By the time everything was properly in order to Hannibal’s satisfaction, he’d gotten himself under control as well, no longer sporting an obvious erection and moving with a good deal more of his customary smoothness and ease.  Will smiled secretly, and let him settle into the comfort of the routine. 

“Have you any plans for today?” Hannibal asked casually as he gave the counter a last wipe down.

Taking that for as good a cue as any, Will took Hannibal by the hips, spun him around, and grabbed his crotch.  Hannibal gave a startled flinch as he was groped, jerking.  His lips parted in a choked gasp.  Will fisted his other hand in Hannibal’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, thrusting his tongue between his lips and fucking his mouth as he worked Hannibal’s cock through his clothes. 

Hannibal moaned and stumbled forward into him, his hands coming to grip at the fabric of Will’s shirt as he shuddered under Will’s hand.  It wasn’t long before Will had him hard again, stiff and aching in his trousers, and Hannibal groaned into his mouth as he pressed into Will’s hand eagerly.  With a few more strokes, Will could have him coming in his pants.

Will stepped back, releasing Hannibal and leaving him to catch himself on the side of the counter as he fell forward, whimpering, moments away from completion.  His chest rose and fell heavily as he gasped, his hair falling into his face over his unfocussed eyes. 

“…I was thinking I’d go fishing,” Will said mildly, answering Hannibal’s earlier question.  Hannibal’s eyes snapped onto him, full of rankling dismay, and Will grinned.  “I’ll be back for lunch, so have something ready.” 

Hannibal’s fingers twitched against the counter.  He said nothing.  

With that, Will marched out of the kitchen to fetch his fishing equipment.  He could feel the heat of Hannibal’s gaze on him as he left, but he still didn’t say a word or make any move to stop him.

Will returned later with two fish on ice that Hannibal agreed to prepare for dinner that evening.  Will went to wash up and by the time he returned lunch was set out on the table. 

“Fig salad and basil soup served cold,” Hannibal expounded as he hung up his apron.  “It seemed appropriate for the heat.” 

His arousal had died down while Will was out, which wasn’t all that surprising.  Will walked up to him calmly, blocking his way to the table.  Hannibal regarded him cautiously, lips parting as if to speak.  Will didn’t wait to hear what he might say. 

Hannibal let out a choked sound as Will took hold of his cock through his clothes.  He lurched forward, and Will laid his other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into his shoulder as he stroked him.  Hannibal whimpered lightly against Will’s ear as he hardened in Will’s hand, and Will made soft, soothing noises against his cheek.  He rubbed the back of Hannibal’s neck gently while Hannibal twitched and jerked weakly in his arms.  He didn’t cry out when Will stepped away, but he swayed unsteadily, like he was fighting to keep his feet. 

They ate in silence, Hannibal sitting mutely with a vacant expression.  Every once in a while he would blink, slowly, likely squashing the urge to touch himself or make some other wanton display. 

“How did it feel to be fucked over this table this morning?” Will asked flippantly. 

Hannibal went rigid, jaw tightening.  Almost unnoticeably, he shifted in his chair.  “It felt…” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Yes?” Will encouraged, taking a large mouthful of soup from his spoon. 

Hannibal’s eyes closed and his head tilted slightly in a controlled flinch.  Then he opened his eyes, lifting his chin, and met Will’s gaze.  “Degrading.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “That was what you intended, wasn’t it?  Degradation.” 

Will looked back at Hannibal blandly.  “Did you enjoy it?” 

There was a pause, and another shift in his chair.  “Yes.” Hannibal rasped, shifting again. 

“And what exactly did you enjoy?” Will prompted when Hannibal didn’t elaborate.  “Being degraded, or being fucked?”

Hannibal bit the inside of his lip.  “Both.” He admitted sounding strained, and now it was obvious the shifting was due to his ass and thighs clenching.  “Your…forcefulness and—” he broke off, eyes lowering.  “And…”  Will gave him a minute, but he didn’t continue, clearly busy trying to control his arousal.

“You liked being my whore,” Will finished for him.  “You liked how it felt.” 

Hannibal didn’t answer.  After a while, he nodded, closing his eyes as even that prompted a shift against his chair.   

“Looks like I finally got you to squirm at the table,” Will observed dryly, as Hannibal’s ass shifted again in its seat.  Hannibal flashed him a glare, and Will smirked.  Will leaned forward, lowering his voice to a mocking whisper.  “Would you like me to fuck you again, Hannibal?  Right now?  Do you want to bend over and take it up the ass for the second time today?” 

Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered, his lips pressing into a thin line.  “Yes,” he mumbled, barely audible. 

“What was that?” Will pushed, though they both knew he’d heard him. 

“Yes,” Hannibal said as his eyes snapped open, the last syllable drawn out into a hiss. 

Will lip quirked, smirk widening.  “Maybe I should spank you too.  Would you like that?” 

Hannibal’s eyes were hard, his spine stiff.  He was silent a long moment, staring at Will with an expression that bordered on dangerous. 

Good.

“…Yes.” Hannibal said quietly, his voice tense.  “I would.” 

“Well, maybe I will,” Will replied, and took a long sip of Hannibal’s freshly made lemonade.  “…If you ask nicely.”  He fixed Hannibal with an expectant look, and set down his glass. 

Hannibal remained frozen, and then he let out a small, resigned sigh.  “I’d very much appreciate it, Will,” he said, his words spaced evenly and deliberately.  “If you’d fuck me.”

“And…” Will reminded, lifting an eyebrow.

“And spank me,” Hannibal added, holding back another sigh.  There was a long pause.  “Please.” 

Will regarded Hannibal a moment.  “No.” He said flatly.  He took bite of his salad, chewing thoughtfully while Hannibal sat there, fuming at him.  The only thing more humiliating than being made to ask, would be being denied once you had, Will mused to himself.  “No, I want your mouth,” Will declared casually once he’d swallowed.  “Get under the table.” 

Hannibal’s cheeks went pink at Will’s offhanded order. 

“Now, Hannibal,” Will added with a little more force.  “I want you on the floor.  Hands and knees.  Like a dog waiting for scraps.” 

Hannibal blinked furiously, and swallowed.  He carefully put down his utensils and folded his napkin, and then pushed back his chair.  He slid to the floor and crawled under the table between Will’s knees. 

“Don’t swallow,” Will informed him as Hannibal unbuckled his belt.  “This isn’t a reward.  You suck my cock and get me off, then take my load in your face like a good bitch, you understand?” 

Hannibal’s hands stilled.  “…Yes,” Will heard very softly from under the table, and then Hannibal fingers began unclasping his fly. 

Will peeked down, leaning back so he could look at Hannibal crouching between his legs.  “Say it,” he said firmly.

Hannibal stilled again, and looked up, wary and chagrined.  “…I’ll be a good bitch.” 

Good enough, Will thought to himself, and puffed out a sigh.  He went back to eating, utterly ignoring Hannibal as he took out his cock.  He did let out a groan when Hannibal’s mouth wrapped around him, coinciding perfectly with taking another mouthful of soup. 

It really was delicious. 

Will finished his meal while Hannibal slid his lips up and down his shaft, sucking dutifully and unobtrusively from under the table.  Will didn’t spare him another glance, but he did slip a free hand down to stroke blindly across the side of Hannibal’s face, tracing the line of Hannibal’s lips around his cock with his thumb. 

He came with grunt and Hannibal did indeed pull off to let his cum splash across his face.  He carefully tucked Will’s cock back into his pants and closed the front of his trousers.  When Will’s belt was buckled, Hannibal dropped his hands and waited on his knees under the table. 

“You can get back in your chair,” Will informed him after a minute or so. 

Hannibal climbed out from under the table and slid back into his seat.  Fresh splotches of cum stuck to his nose and left cheek  He was still sporting an obvious erection. 

“Finish your soup,” Will instructed, and Hannibal mechanically placed his napkin in his lap and lifted his spoon. 

“Exactly how long is this ‘trial’ going to go on for?” Hannibal asked, sounding a bit glum. 

“Until we reach a verdict,” Will replied without hesitation. 

“Have I not yet displayed my willingness to obey you and debase myself to your satisfaction?” Hannibal retorted somewhat snappishly.  He paused, then tilted his head contemplatively.  “…Unless there is something else you are testing.”  His eyes flicked up and landed on Will, watching him with a challenging intensity. 

Will didn’t meet his gaze, finishing off his lemonade with a long gulp.  He set the glass down and wiped his mouth.  “Thank you for lunch.  It was delightful.” 

With that, he got up and left Hannibal there, fighting the urge to look back over his shoulder. 

For the rest of the day, he checked in on Hannibal every hour, and if he didn’t find him suitably hard and distractedly aroused, he quickly rectified the situation, always careful to never allow enough contact to let him climax.  By the time four o’clock rolled around, Hannibal was actively flinching at the mere threat of his touch, his body knowing that the pleasure it brought would be more of a torment than a respite. 

Will knew he probably shouldn’t enjoy that as much as he did.

He still leaned into Will once he was touched though, whimpering and weakly moaning with distressed sensuality and helplessness. 

At five, Will caught him upstairs, changing.  “You said I couldn’t wash myself, you never said I couldn’t put on a fresh set of clothes,” Hannibal said primly, fixing the cuffs of his shirt. 

Will smirked at Hannibal from where he stood leaning against the doorframe, not at all bothered.  He’d expected a certain amount of skirting around the lines he’d drawn—a good deal more than he’d gotten, actually.  It was clear Hannibal wanted to pass Will’s test, and not just appear to have passed it.  It was both encouraging and endearing, and Will found his smirk turning into a fond smile full of genuine warmth. 

That wasn’t going to stop him, though.  He came up behind Hannibal without a word, pulling him roughly to his chest.  Hannibal stiffened defensively in his arms, but his eyes fluttered closed in surrender when Will reached down with one hand to caress Hannibal’s groin.  This time, Will slipped his hand under Hannibal’s waistband and wrapped his fingers around the flesh of Hannibal’s cock.  Hannibal arched his neck, leaning his head back on Will’s shoulder as he failed to muffle a moan from behind his teeth. 

Will inhaled, breathing in the scent from the curve of Hannibal’s throat, and turned them to face the lavishly tall mirror on the wall.  Will took a moment to watch Hannibal through the mirror—fully dressed in a crisp shirt and pressed pants, but shuddering under his touch, eyes closed, his face still stained with cum.    

“Open your eyes, Hannibal, I want you to look.” Will whispered into Hannibal’s ear, holding him tightly to his chest from behind.  “See.” 

Sucking in a breath, Hannibal obeyed, gazing out from under hooded eyes. 

“What do you see?” Will whispered, stroking his thumb over the head of Hannibal’s cock.  Hannibal shivered, lips parting in a kind of silent gasp.  Will could already feel him hardening against his palm. 

“I see…” Hannibal breathed, barely more than a murmur.  “…I see what you’ve done to me.” 

“And what’s that?” Will pressed.  “What have I done to you?”

Hannibal groaned, deep, from the back of this throat.  His hips undulated, pushing into Will’s hand.  “You’ve made me a whore,” he rasped. 

“My whore,” Will corrected softly, nipping at Hannibal’s ear. 

“Yes, yours,” Hannibal answered, earnest and breathless.  “Always yours.  Whatever else, always yours.”  His words were running together, mumbled and indistinct, his accent so thick Will could barely decipher them. 

Will took his hand away. 

Hannibal clenched his teeth, nearly screaming from behind his locked jaw.  Will wrapped both arms around his middle and held him tightly as he shook, almost wheezing. 

“…My whore doesn’t get to come till I say,” Will murmured blandly against Hannibal’s ear when his shaking had died down.  “Are you still my whore, Hannibal?” 

Hannibal closed his eyes and swallowed.  His expression was pained.  “Yes.”

Will nodded once, and let him go.  Hannibal stumbled slightly, then stood stock still, hands trembling at his sides.

“Good boy,” Will commended. 

Then he smacked him on the ass.  Hard.    

Hannibal flinched, fingers curling into claws.  There was a wet spot showing on the front of his new, clean trousers. 

Will’s cock was showing a fair bit of interest as well, but he didn’t want to risk making Hannibal come.  So far, it appeared Hannibal had been correct in saying he needed direct stimulation, but he looked so close to popping right now Will thought it best not to risk it. 

He’d just go jerk off in the shower again.  Or wait a bit until Hannibal had calmed down some. 

With that thought, he exited the room.  As he was closing the door behind him, he heard a soft sound from inside.  He peeked around the mostly closed door, and saw that Hannibal had fallen to his hands and knees, his back curved with his head hanging between his shoulders as he panted lightly.  Will felt a brief stab of compassion for him, but just as strong was the satisfaction in seeing how truly and deeply Hannibal was being affected. 

He closed the door.

Will ended up fucking Hannibal over the arm of the sofa in the library twenty minutes later, dumping a fresh coat of cum over Hannibal’s ass.  Hannibal was still hard when he left him there, bent over with his pants around his ankles and his face buried in his arms.   

“Turn around and get on your knees,” Will said by way of greeting as he walked into the kitchen.   

Will watched Hannibal’s back rise and fall as he sighed, but he stopped what he was doing and stepped away from the counter island, turning on his heel and sinking to his knees. 

“Put your hands on your head,” Will added on a whim and Hannibal obediently put his hands behind his head. 

Will leaned against the opposite counter and looked down at the man in front of him.  He wore his half apron this time, tied neatly about his waist, his button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, but despite the different costume and setting the position reminded Will of when he’d surrendered himself.  To Jack, ostensibly, but all three of them had known better, even then. 

Will walked over to Hannibal and tilted his chin up with one hand.  He turned his face this way and that, taking in all the angles on the dried spunk that marred his skin. 

“Are you hard right now?” Will asked him with feigned disinterest. 

Hannibal’s jaw tightened under his fingers.  “No.” He said simply, though there was a note of apprehension even in that single syllable. 

“If I fucked your mouth right now, would you get hard?” Will asked, more pointedly. 

Hannibal swallowed, his posture rigid. 

“…Most likely,” he admitted stiffly.  In fact, a shifting in his hips betrayed what even the suggestion of Will putting his cock in his mouth was already doing to him. 

Will pushed his chin up, humming thoughtfully.  “Open your mouth, Hannibal,” he drawled. 

Hannibal kept perfectly still, and then lowered his eyes.  He opened his mouth. 

Will made an approving noise, and then quickly pulled out his cock.  A few strokes and he was ready.  He quickly braced a hand behind Hannibal’s head and shoved his cock down his throat. 

He didn’t let Hannibal have any control this time; he just fucked his mouth like a hole, thrusting in between his lips with rapid, burning friction.  Hannibal took him, uncomplaining, though his face started to grow red.  His hands never moved from behind his head. 

He came in Hannibal’s face again, though some of it fell into his open mouth.  Hannibal only closed his lips and swallowed when Will was completely spent. 

“This is becoming unhygienic,” Hannibal warned. 

Will ignored him.  Instead, he crouched down once he’d put himself away, and placed a hand on Hannibal’s crotch. 

“Mmm,” Will hummed, finding him satisfyingly hard.  He rubbed over Hannibal’s bulge, squeezing lightly.  “Such a slut for me.”  Smirking, he leaned in and whispered in Hannibal’s ear.  “If I kept this up, and we got some kind of clock that struck a bell every hour, do you think you’d start getting hard every time it went off?  You like experiments, don’t you Hannibal?”  He squeezed harder.  “Maybe we should give it a try.”

Hannibal didn’t answer, but he went a bit pale.  Probably at the prospect of what ‘keeping this up’ would mean and for how long. 

Will released him, standing brusquely.  “Is dinner ready?”

“…Almost,” Hannibal said softly. 

“Need any help?” Will asked, crooking an eyebrow. 

There was a pause.  Then, slowly, Hannibal rose to his feet, lowering his arms.  He took an even breath, and then turned to look at Will with a tilt of his head.  “If you’ll set the table, I just finish the onions.” 

Will couldn’t quite hold back a smile, and nodded.  “Whatever you like.” 

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed a bit at that, clearly not appreciating Will’s attempt at irony. 

“I see you’ve already decanted the wine,” Will stated, sidestepping around Hannibal’s glare.  “Should I pour you a glass?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered, maybe a touch too quickly.  “If you’d be so kind.” 

“Well, all right then,” Will said with a smile.

“Headed upstairs already?” Will asked dryly after dinner.  They’d finished cleaning up and Hannibal had clearly hoped to make surreptitious exit, sneaking out to the hallway when Will wasn’t looking.  He looked sheepish at being caught out, his eyes glancing once toward the stairs. 

“I thought I’d make it an early night, yes,” Hannibal replied, casual but for a faint tightness about his mouth. 

“Hmm.” 

Will walked up to him, sliding his gaze down Hannibal’s body, the action both obvious and threatening.  Hannibal’s shoulders tensed at his scrutiny.  It was clear to both of them that Hannibal wouldn’t be making it up the stairs unmolested.  Will could almost hear the unspoken words trapped behind Hannibal’s teeth, but he doesn’t open his jaw to let them out.  He caught Hannibal’s eyes and let the moment drag until Hannibal lowered his gaze.  Then, he grabbed Hannibal by the hips and spun him around, pushing him face first into a nearby wall. 

Hannibal’s breath hitched, his hands coming up in front to brace himself.  Without any prompting he took up an inviting position with his legs spread, bent slightly forward at the waist to offer Will easy access to his backside. 

“Good boy,” Will murmured, leaning in to press his lips to Hannibal’s ear.  Hannibal closed his eyes as he visibly held back a whimper, and bowed his head.  Will felt his lips curve into a smirk. 

He reached around and undid the front of Hannibal’s trousers, finding him already mostly hard. 

“Such an eager slut,” he commented huskily, and this time Hannibal couldn’t fully muffle a whine from the back of his throat. 

Will pulled the container of lubricant from Hannibal’s pocket and then yanked down both his pants and underwear to his knees.  Hannibal inhaled sharply as the fabric dragged over his erection, and then  arched his back once his cock sprung free. 

“Filthy, needy slut,” Will said mockingly, running a palm over Hannibal’s cum covered buttocks. 

“You’ve made me that way,” Hannibal accused, tossing a glare over his shoulder.  “You—” Hannibal broke off in a low gasp as Will slid two slick finger between his cheeks and stroked his hole.  There was a deep, quiet groan, and Hannibal dropped his head again.  “…You did this to me.”

“You let me do this to you,” Will countered, pushing in with his fingers.  Hannibal shivered as he was breached, arching his back even further.  “You wanted me to.”  He twisted his fingers, and Hannibal keened, trying to push back into his hand.   

“Will…”

“Stay still, Hannibal,” Will chided.  “If you’re good, I might even fuck you.” 

A desperate shudder tore through Hannibal’s frame, and then quieted to stillness.

“…Good boy,” Will whispered, stroking softly over Hannibal’s prostate.  Hannibal jerked compulsively at the touch, but otherwise remained unmoving. 

Will knew he could make Hannibal come with enough direct prostate stimulation, so he was careful not to apply to much pressure.  Instead, he teased the gland with delicate brushes until Hannibal was quivering around him.  When he was teetering on the edge of orgasm, Will pulled his hand away, wiping his fingers on Hannibal’s hip. 

“Actually…” Will said, taunting.  “An early night sounds like a good idea after all.” 

He gave Hannibal’s bum a light smack, and turned to walk brusquely up the stairs, leaving Hannibal with his pants around his legs, his cock still hard and leaking. 

Will went into his room, closing the door behind him, and started readying himself for sleep.  He sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes, keeping his ears alert to any sounds from the hallway.  He had his socks off and was finishing unbuttoning his shirt when there was a soft click from the door handle.  That was the only warning before the door swung open. 

The light from the hallway was brighter than in the room and left Hannibal half shadowed, but Will could still make him out well enough.  Hannibal had done up his pants, but he still looked disheveled, the fabric rumpled and his hair mussed.  His fingers were tight on the doorknob and his shoulders slightly hunched.  His eyes were most striking, though.  His eyes looked thunderous. 

Will bit down on the corners of his mouth and straightened his back, at once holding back a smile and readying himself for the coming storm.

“Will.”  Hannibal’s voice was low, almost growling. 

“Hannibal.”  Will replied with exaggerated, mocking patience.

Hannibal’s lip twitched into half a snarl, and he stepped into the room. 

The door swung shut behind him, closing with enough force to qualify as a slam.  Will’s eyebrow arched in startled amusement; he never thought he’d see Hannibal do anything so banal as to slam a door.  Hannibal’s eyes closed for just a moment at the sound, clearly annoyed at his own loss of control.  His fingers curled into his palms, not quite forming fists, and he took in a deep breath before fixing Will with a hardened glare. 

“Enough.” Hannibal said with finality.  “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” Will asked nonchalantly.  “And what point would that be?” 

“Enough, Will.” Hannibal repeated, ignoring his question.  “Put an end to this.  Now.” 

Will tilted his head, pretending to contemplate, watching Hannibal grow more agitated at his silence. 

“Why?” Will said at last.  He gave a little shrug.  “Why should I?” 

Hannibal let out a puff of air, his brow furrowing in flummoxed frustration.  Will lifted his chin and fixed him with a look of his own. 

“I see no reason to end this, Hannibal,” Will drawled, and then made sure to catch Hannibal’s eyes in a firm glance.  “You haven’t given me one.”  He took a breath, and shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside.  “From where I’m sitting, I could keep this up for days.”  He flicked his gaze over to Hannibal.  “Weeks, even.” 

Hannibal noticeably flinched at that, and Will smirked, letting the smug look take over his face. 

“Now go to your room and get in bed, Hannibal,” he instructed with a patronizing toss of his head.  “Be a good boy.  And maybe I’ll let you shower in the morning.” 

The room went dead quiet, like all the air had been sucked out, and Will knew in an instant that he’d finally succeeded in pushing Hannibal beyond his limit.  Will pushed back his shoulders, bracing himself but not backing down.  He let out a long, slow breath. 

All at once, the air seemed to rush back in, and Hannibal snapped forward.  In seconds he’d crossed the room and Will felt himself tense, anticipating the  impact.  He looked up, and Hannibal loomed over him, the shadows of the room making him look taller.  For just a moment, Will thought he saw a glimpse of antlers stretching out like demonic fingers.

Without a word, Hannibal dropped to his knees.  He bowed forward, laying his head into Will’s lap, and breathed out a shuddering breath. 

“Please,” Hannibal whispered.  He placed his hands lightly to the sides of Will’s knees, soft and reverent.  “Please, Will.  Do not send me to spend another night alone, like this.  If this means I have failed—” He voice broke off, hitching painfully.  “—then so be it.  Give me your wrath, but not this, not this, please, please—” 

His pleading devolved into indistinct whimperings, his face pressed into Will’s legs in desperate supplication.  Will felt himself gasp, the breath burning his chest and throat as tears sprung to his eyes.  He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling as he fought for air.  He could still make out an occasional softly murmured please, please amidst the shuddering sounds Hannibal poured into Will’s lap, and those quiet, furtive words shook him more than any thunder. 

Hannibal was begging him.  For mercy. 

Will didn’t have to give it.  He could twist this knife even deeper, if he wanted to.  There could be a poetry in that.  But the thought curdled Will’s stomach, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. 

With his face still lifted upwards, Will set his hand to the back of Hannibal’s head, stroking his hair in a gesture of comfort for them both.  He closed his eyes and let his tears roll down his cheeks before brushing them away with his other hand, sighing. 

“Come on,” Will murmured, urging Hannibal lift his head.  There were tears under his eyes too, and Will dabbed them away with his thumb.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Chapter Text

Will led Hannibal into the bathroom, and then to the shower, undressing first Hannibal and then himself.  They stepped inside and Will turned on the water.  He felt more than heard Hannibal let out soft sigh as the water touched his skin. 

He washed Hannibal’s face first, using a soft hand towel to scrub it clean before moving down Hannibal’s body.  He cleaned all of him, every inch, till his skin glistened like polished marble.  Hannibal made no sound beyond an occasional quiet sigh, tension pouring from him under Will’s attentive hands.  He was still hard; Will knew he could bring him off right here, but he stopped himself, instead focusing on the task at hand.  Hannibal didn’t complain, seemingly content with the meditative ritual of being cleansed. 

Will turned off the shower and stepped out.  He handed Hannibal a dry towel and took one for himself, rubbing it quickly over his skin before wrapping it around his waist and leaving the bathroom.  He dragged a hand through his wet hair and sighed again.  He didn’t look behind him, but he sensed Hannibal follow him out.  Will walked over to a window and looked outside.  He couldn’t see much; it was too dark.  His own face was clearer in the glass than anything beyond. 

“I wondered which way you’d break,” Will finally said, his voice raspy and jagged against the silence.    

Hannibal didn’t reply, but Will could feel his questioning.  Will turned, a sad smile tugging at his lips.  Hannibal stood naked, holding the towel but not bothering to cover himself.  Will’s smile widened, sadder.  His chest ached.

“I figured if I pushed you hard enough, I’d either have you on your knees begging, or…” 

“…Or?” Hannibal prompted.  His expression was inscrutable. 

Will swallowed.  His eyes flicked away for moment.  “Or…” He sighed.  He walked over to Hannibal, his steps slow and even.  “Or you’d finally decide you’d had enough.  Make me pay for every minute I’d put you through.” 

Hannibal frowned.  “Did you imagine I would kill you?” He sounded incredulous.  “For this?”  Will didn’t answer, and Hannibal’s frown deepened.  “Or did you imagine something else?”  The question was asked quietly, barely more than a whisper, a hard, brittle edge to the words. 

Will was silent.  Then he took in a breath, a sharp smile cracking across his face.  “I told you not to touch yourself,” Will said dryly, his throat tight.  “I never said you couldn’t touch me.” 

His answer dropped between them, ugly and grim.  After a long moment, Hannibal’s lips parted, hesitating before speaking. 

“You think me capable of that?”  Hannibal asked, his tone deceptively even.  “Or do you merely wish me to be?” 

Will swallowed, the stone in his throat dropping into his stomach.  His face hardened.  “I think you’re capable of just about anything you want to be,” he said tensely. 

Hannibal’s eyes flickered.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed quiet.  Finally, he opened his mouth, jaw rigid.  “And you’re not?” 

Will almost slapped him.  His fingers curled into his palm instead, but he could still see it clearly in his mind: Hannibal’s head snapping to one side, the loud crack of his hand against his cheek.  The satisfaction that would follow.  Hurting Hannibal because what Hannibal said had hurt him. 

Had hurt him because it was true. 

“What I crave from you is your desire, Will,” Hannibal said softly.  “Your want and your vision.  I have no interest in taking you by force.” 

Stated so plainly, it seemed obvious.  Hannibal would never have come to that kind of violence, no matter what Will did to him.  Will should have found that comforting.  Instead, he was strangely irritated. 

“But you could,” Will pressed.  He stepped forward, bringing them nearly chest to chest.  “Couldn’t you?  I doubt I could stop you, if that’s what you really wanted.” 

Hannibal didn’t respond.  There was a deep crease between his brows.  “Is that what you want?” He said finally.  His voice was tight.  Fractured.  “To be taken.  Forced.” 

There was a pain there, hovering under the surface, and Will wasn’t indifferent to it but he couldn’t let himself be moved by it either.  Like when he’d walked into Hannibal’s kitchen knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave till something was cut out of him, there was a need in him to push things to their ultimate entropy.

“I want you to force me,” Will found himself whispering, a static buzz stinging the air around him.  “I want to see the part of you that can.” 

“And what part of me is that?” Hannibal retorted bitterly.  “What part of me do you think you haven’t seen?” 

Will’s brow furrowed.  Before he could say anything, he was spun around, his wrists held tightly in one large hand at the small of his back.  Hannibal’s other arm wrapped around his front, laying firmly across Will’s lower belly.  Will’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart immediately sped up, his senses heightened as adrenaline flooded his system, his body instantly aware of the danger it was in. 

“Is this what you want, Will?” Hannibal demanded lowly.  “Is this what you’d have of me?” 

Fresh tears prickled behind Will’s eyes, and he pushed them back fiercely with a thick swallow. 

“Yes.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. 

There was a deafening silence.  Then, abruptly, Hannibal ripped the towel from Will’s waist.  Will felt his sudden nakedness like a scratch across his skin, and gasped, loudly.  Before he’d had time to process what was happening, he found himself face down on the bed. 

He might have screamed, but he choked down most of the sound and buried the rest in the mattress.  Hannibal held him down with his own weight while he reached for lubrication.  How considerate, Will thought wryly, and then jerked as a slick finger entered him.  He tried to scramble away, but only managed to bring himself to his knees, bent forward at the waist while Hannibal kept a firm grip on his wrists. 

Two fingers inside him, and Will wrenched hard, freeing his arms, but before he could press the advantage Hannibal lunged forward, pressing Will’s back to his chest, and wrapped his hand tightly around Will’s throat.  Instinctively, Will’s hands flew up, tugging at Hannibal’s arm and reaching back to claw blindly at Hannibal’s face.  The hand at his throat constricted, not enough to truly choke him, but enough to be uncomfortable.  Enough to threaten.  Enough to make clear that he could. 

All at once, something in Will broke. 

A sob tore out of him, too many conflicting thoughts crashing in on him like a collapsing building, and tears poured down his face.  He shuddered and shook uncontrollably, feeling like his limbs were being ripped from his body.  He couldn’t breathe.  The grip on his throat wasn’t tight enough to block his airway, but still.  He couldn’t breathe. 

Hannibal’s hand fell from his neck, the palm resting on the curve of his collarbone.  His other arm came around and pulled Will up so he was sitting on his knees.  He held Will to his chest as sobs wracked through him, his arms gentle but unyielding as Will shook against them.  After a time, when Will had quieted somewhat, Hannibal softly set his chin to Will’s shoulder, and let out long, muted sigh.  Tears continued to roll down Will’s cheeks. 

“I would do anything you asked of me,” Hannibal murmured, a throaty tightness coloring his words.  “Please.  Don’t ask this of me.” 

Will’s eyes closed and a watery smile stretched his lips.  “Why not?” He asked, the words like broken glass in his mouth.  “Why shouldn’t I?” 

Hannibal said nothing.  He pressed his lips to Will’s neck.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Will let out a bark of laughter with his next wave of tears.  “You’ve hurt me before,” he rasped bitterly. 

“Yes,” Hannibal said after a moment.  There was no defiance in the word.  Only grief.  “And when I did, often as not, I found I’d done myself harm as well.  I have no desire to continue either of our destructions.”  There was a weighted pause.  “I had thought it was the same for you.” 

Will didn’t wince at that, just let the barb sink in.

“You don’t always hurt when I hurt,” Will said bluntly.  “Don’t pretend like you do.”  Will placed his hand over Hannibal’s and lifted it back to his throat.  His chest tightened painfully as he did, but he sucked in a shuddering breath and pressed on.  “How many have you killed like this?” 

Will felt Hannibal’s eyelashes blink across his cheek.  “Killed?” Hannibal said quietly.  “Not many.”  There was a pause, and not a comfortable one.  “I prefer my victims alive when I cut them open, if you’ll recall.” Hannibal’s tone was bland, and just a touch recriminating. 

“Beverly Katz wasn’t.” Will’s lips trembled, fresh tears coming with the hoarsely spoken name.  He hadn’t spoken it aloud in…such a long time.  “Alive.  When you cut her.”  His breath shuddered.  “You choked the life out of her first.” 

Hannibal went still, like a film paused into a still image.  “Ms. Katz wasn’t planned.  She surprised me, Will.  I was fighting for my life.”

The phrasing was hyperbolic, but not inaccurate. 

“And you displayed her to warn me not to send anyone else.  And to needle Jack,” Will added. 

Hannibal was quiet.  “Yes…” 

Will tilted his head, hearing something left unspoken in Hannibal’s answer.  “What else?” 

Hannibal was quiet, then let out a sigh.  “She was beautiful, Will, inside and out.  I could hardly let her be found in a manner unbefitting of her.” 

Will snorted at that.  “How thoughtful of you,” he muttered.  His voice lowered even further.  “I suppose you were in a rush with Abigail.”    

Hannibal went quiet again.  “You haven’t forgiven me, then.  For any of it.” 

Will breathed out a sigh, acerbic and melancholy.  “I have forgiven you,” he said, a bland confession.  He turned his face toward Hannibal’s.  “I couldn’t stop myself from forgiving you.  I haven’t…forgiven myself for forgiving you.”  He swallowed thickly, discomfited by how easily he could talk with Hannibal, even about this.  Easier than with anyone.  Easier than with himself. 

“So, your purpose in this was to punish yourself.  I was merely the tool,” Hannibal said, deceptively plain and analytical.  Will frowned. 

“No…no, I…” Will’s frown deepened.  “I just didn’t want to forget.” 

“Forget?” Hannibal asked softly. 

“What you are,” Will elaborated, almost spitting. 

“Do you think you’re likely to?” Hannibal remarked, sounding bemused.  Will took in a deep breath.

“No, but…it doesn’t weigh on me like it should.  It doesn’t alarm me like it should.  It never did, not really.  I could see it, in Alana, in Jack, even in Frederick fucking Chilton, what I should be feeling.  And I just…didn’t.” 

That little bit of self-directed honesty was a bitter pill to swallow, the taste of it lingering and pungent. 

“And that bothers you.”  Hannibal laid his cheek against Will’s and stroked his thumb across the apple of Will’s throat.  “Do you want to be frightened of me?  To recoil from me, as from a viper?” 

“Shouldn’t I?” Will smiled to himself, remembering Chiyoh and what she’d said about charming cubs and big cats.  “A tiger, no matter how tame it may appear, is still a wild animal.  Forgetting that,” he said, turning his head to whisper into Hannibal’s cheek.  “Is a good way to lose an arm.”  He smiled again, sour but determined.  “I don’t want you to hide the beast inside you, Hannibal.  I want it out in the open.  Right where I can see it.”

There was a long silence after that.  Then, Hannibal pulled him even more tightly to his chest, his arms warm and enveloping.  Will could feel Hannibal’s heartbeat against his back, his breath against his cheek.  Finally, Hannibal spoke. 

“There is no beast inside me, Will.”  The words were said clearly, his voice dark and deep and hot as molten steel.  “There is only me.  I am not some fractured thing like Dolarhyde, a man and a monster at war with each other.  Whatever I may do, I am always wholly, and entirely, myself.” 

Will inhaled sharply through his nose, Hannibal’s words echoing in his mind, radiant and terrifying.  Because that was the very truth that parts of his mind rebelled at: that Hannibal was as much himself now, here—as much himself when he’d fallen to his knees at Will’s feet—as when he’d gutted him and left him bleeding on the floor of his kitchen.  That he was not a monster hidden inside a man, but a monster who was also a man--simultaneously and without any edges in between.        

“We’re all made up of pieces, Hannibal,” Will found himself saying, grasping and clutching for something to hold on to.  “Aspects and facets that reflect differently depending on how they’re held to the light.  And some pieces,” he hissed lowly.   “Are more monstrous than others.” 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal conceded.  “But there are no pieces of me that do not love you, Will.”  Will felt Hannibal’s smile against his skin.  “If anything,” he murmured.  “It was my monsters that loved you first.” 

“And, Will,” Hannibal continued, over the sound Will’s own heart thumping loudly against his chest.  “You are not the man who has tamed the beast, in this little fable of ours.”  His voice dropped even lower, the heat of his mouth whispering into Will’s skin.  “You are the beast, who has taken another wild creature as his mate.  And if you wish to see my savagery, then we should hunt together.” 

Will felt something tear, like his skin was cracking and falling away.  The thought should have been horrifying.  He should have been horrified.  But instead, it was like he could finally breathe.  His reason might never be able to fully understand and reconcile what he and Hannibal were, and what they were to each other.  But every other part of him did.  And every other part of him was singing with one voice. 

“Yes.” 

Twisting in Hannibal’s arms, Will met Hannibal’s eyes, which blinked back at him with cautious uncertainty.  “Yes,” Will said again, dizzy and panting.  He brought a hand to Hannibal’s cheek.  “Let’s hunt.”

For a moment Hannibal remained utterly still.  Then, his eyes flashed, full of blood and lightning, and they were suddenly both pulling, lunging, careening their mouths together in a frantic, clashing kiss full of teeth.  Will rolled onto his back, dragging Hannibal on top of him, and wrapped his legs around his waist.  Their cocks slid together, and if they hadn’t been fully hard already, they were now. 

Will moaned impatiently into Hannibal’s mouth, and Hannibal didn’t need any further instruction, grasping at the bottle of lube and quickly coating his fingers.  He slid his hand down to stretch Will open, groaning as Will clenched around him. 

“I won’t last,” Hannibal warned, breathy and apologetic. 

“I don’t care,” Will grunted, shaking his head.  “I just want you in me.  I want you to come in me.” 

Hannibal shuddered, gasping, and gazed down at Will with grateful awe before kissing him again.

“Hurry,” Will urged, pulling him closer with both arms and legs. 

Hannibal obliged, and soon he was sunk inside, quivering in Will’s arms as he filled him. 

“I’m close already,” Hannibal said regretfully, shaking. 

“Then make it count,” Will told him.  Hannibal caught Will’s eyes, his own flashing with understanding.

The first thrust came, and Will let out a cry as Hannibal slammed into him. 

“More.” 

It was hard and fast, and Will dug his fingers into Hannibal’s shoulders, dragging his nails across the skin in a desperate need to give back some of the intensity he was feeling.  It was glorious, and he gasped and groaned with every slide of Hannibal inside him, but Hannibal was right and it wasn’t long before Will felt him quake, jerking unevenly and flooding Will’s insides with hot cum.  Will squeezed his thighs around Hannibal’s middle and dug his nails in deeper as he rode it out, his own cock twitching between their stomachs.

They lay there panting for a while.  Then Hannibal slowly lifted his head.  Sweat glistened across his brow, as Hannibal licked his lips and swallowed.  He looked utterly drained—relieved, yet devastated—and Will was reminded of just how long he’d been aching for that release.  Will grabbed hold of Hannibal’s chin in one hand, hard enough to feel the bones of his jaw slide under his fingers.  He held him in place as he inspected Hannibal’s face, searing the image of him in this moment into his memory.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Will informed him, Hannibal’s softening cock still lodged inside him.  “On your hands and knees.”  Like an animal he didn’t say, but he didn’t need to, the glint in Hannibal’s eye and the curve of his lip showing clearly he understood.  He lowered his eyelids and bent his head, nuzzling Will’s nose with his own. 

“Ma belle bête,” he mumbled lowly, almost too indistinct for Will to make out.  Almost. 

“My Beautiful Beast,” Will said back, rumbling and raspy, his lips twisting into a dark smile.  He brought both hands to cup Hannibal’s cheeks and squeezed his legs tighter around his waist.  “My Horned God.” 

He spoke the words not quite sure where they were coming from, only that they’d traveled up from some place deep inside him.  They echoed between them, solemn and hollow.  Hannibal looked down, his face both inhumanly dark and commonly fair at once, and Will gazed back under the shade of wide antlers that hovered over him like wings.  Will thought Hannibal might say something, but he stayed silent.  In the dim light, his eyes almost seemed to be glowing, radiating with some emotion Will couldn’t quite place.  It could have been any of them.  It might have been all of them. 

Will pulled him down into a kiss, and they inhaled together, sucking in each other’s scent.  Will smelled mostly soap and shampoo, but under that he thought he caught a whiff of something richer and thicker: sweat, and beneath that, the smell of Hannibal’s blood under his skin.

Will groaned against Hannibal mouth and then drew back, pushing him away with his feet.  Hannibal fell back on his heels gasping, his hair hanging in limp strands across his face.  He met Will’s eyes for only a moment, and then turned without being told, settling onto his hands and knees.  Will scrambled onto his knees as well, taking his place behind him.  Hannibal held himself like a prize stallion, or a show dog, obedient and proud, his head and haunches raised in a way that showed him to be both eager, and eager to please. 

Will picked up the bottle of lube, and after a moment’s thought, undid the top.  Hannibal had been stretched frequently throughout the day, and Will’s questing fingers found their way in easily.  He placed the neck of the bottle within the ring of Hannibal’s rectum, and poured the cool, slick liquid into him.  Hannibal shivered but held his position, and Will removed the bottle, watching as lube trickled freely from Hannibal’s hole. 

He put the top back in place and set the bottle aside, then took Hannibal by the hips and lined his erection up without any further preparation.  Slick coated Hannibal’s inner cheeks and slid down to his thighs, his hole winking with wet enthusiasm. 

Will’s fingers tightened, digging into the flesh of Hannibal’s hips as he snapped his pelvis forward, burying his cock to the hilt in one thrust.  Hannibal let out a low whine, his inner walls pulsing around Will’s cock.  He pushed his hips up against Hannibal’s ass, pressing even deeper while he relished the heat of Hannibal’s body.  Hannibal’s bare shoulders shifted, flexing, wing bones jutting out to frame his spine.  Red scratch marks from Will’s fingernails trailed across them, decorating the fair skin with warm color.  The Verger brand lay underneath, raised, puffed lines that looked dead by comparison, pale as corpse-flesh. 

Will laid a hand over the circle of the brand, fingers splayed.  With strange curiosity, he curved the fingers in, digging his nails in deep, and dragged them down across the years-old scar.  Hannibal jerked under him, gasping sharply as blood sprang under Will’s fingers, dripping to pool in rivulets along the raised banks of Hannibal’s burned skin.  It gleamed like liquid rubies, and without thinking Will bent his head a lapped up a drop with the tip of his tongue.  He and Hannibal both shuddered. 

“Will you feed on me, Ma Belle Bête,” Hannibal rasped, his spine undulating in soft waves.  “Gorge yourself on me and suck me dry.”  A challenge?  A request?  A fearful query?  It didn’t matter.  Will’s answer would be the same.          

“No,” Will whispered, and leaned forward, pressing his chest to Hannibal’s back.  Blood slid between their bodies as Hannibal pushed back against him, Will’s cock lodged deep and securely inside him.  Will calmly brought his bloodied hand to clasp firmly around Hannibal’s throat.  “No, not dry,” he murmured against Hannibal’s ear, the coppery taste of him still staining his tongue.  He chuckled then.  “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you wanted me to kill you.” 

“Not want,” Hannibal replied in a low sigh.  “I’ve no wish to die.  But if I’m honest with myself, it’s probable someone will eventually succeed in killing me.”  He tilted his head slightly, turning his cheek into Will’s lips.  “I’d rather that someone be you, if given a choice.  By your hand,” he went on.  “With no pawns or pretenses between us.”

Will didn’t respond at first, a heaviness settling in his chest.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said finally, voice gruff. 

Pushing those thoughts away, he lowered his lips to the scratches on Hannibal’s shoulders, kissing them softly.  His cock throbbed, but Will found himself reluctant to move, to draw out even for a moment from Hannibal’s body.  Unhurried, instead he traced the point of his tongue meticulously over the ragged lines he’d left along Hannibal’s skin. 

“Blood is thicker than water,” he heard himself say, a strange echo in his voice.  “Water can drown, but blood stains.  No matter how well you think you’ve cleaned it away, it always leaves a mark.” 

“We don’t share the same blood, Will,” Hannibal admonished, teasing. 

“You said we were family once.  Do you take it back?”

There was a pause.  “No.”

“Blood made us family,” Will said, remembering the Hobbs' kitchen, Abigail’s blood gushing between them.  “Blood bound us,” he whispered, this time seeing Dragon’s blood, feeling both his wounds and Hannibal’s bleeding into each other as they embraced.  “Real blood.  Not genetics,” he sneered, tightening his grip on Hannibal’s throat.  “Blood.” 

He looked intently at the bared skin at the crook of Hannibal’s neck.  He thought again of the Dragon, of Dolarhyde and his false teeth, of the bite marks that gave him his first, loathed nickname.  It was evidence of an animalistic urge to claim, and devour, and the Dragon on his back had demanded it. 

Will had managed to push him to make a victim of Hannibal—or try to—and both man and beast had found they’d bit off more than they could chew.  Dolarhyde had managed to wound Hannibal, but he’d never had the chance to sink his teeth in.  His false, pretender, teeth.

Hannibal’s recent words came back to him, whispering like the wind—

No pawns…no pretenses…

“I won’t suck you dry, Hannibal,” Will murmured, his mouth against Hannibal’s shoulder.  “I just want to taste.”    

With focused care Will set his teeth to Hannibal’s neck, at the place where it met the shoulder.  After only a moment’s hesitation, he bit down.  Hannibal stiffened under him, and then let out a soft cry.  Will paused for a moment, the skin’s resistance pushing back against his teeth, and then bit down again, harder.  This time he broke skin, and hot, heady salt flooded his mouth. 

He immediately began licking and sucking, soothing the gash he’d made.  He lifted his head, swallowing, and then gasped as the blood slid down his throat.  He could feel the wetness on his lips, and gazed heatedly at the dark, bloodied, uneven circle that now stood out against the skin of Hannibal’s shoulder. 

A perfect imprint.  Will couldn’t know if the mark would scar or fade with time, but it didn’t matter.  The blood would remain—even after it was wiped away.  Will licked his lips, eyes closing.  He panted softly, feeling dizzy, a strange sort of rapture flooding through him. 

“Now you,” Will said, still panting, and brought his other arm around, placing the skin of his inner forearm in front of Hannibal’s face.  He closed his hand into a fist.  “Bite.” 

For a moment, Hannibal didn’t respond, but then he slowly moved to Will’s command.  He lifted a hand to the back of Will’s arm and pulled it close.  He traced Will’s arm with his thumb, meticulously searching for, and finding, the perfect spot—a place that would rupture nothing important and cause no risk of severe bleeding.  A savage act, done with precision, for even Hannibal’s beastly acts were surgical. 

They always have been. 

Will remembered it all in flashes now, with a kind of ironic fondness mixed with contented despair.  You are my Beast, and I’m yours, Will thought wryly.  And no one’s turning into a prince at the last minute.

Just then, Hannibal bit into his flesh, sharp incisors piercing through the skin without any trouble at all.  Will let out a sharp hiss, and then a sigh, as Hannibal drank his mouthful with deferent elation.  A communion, without the tasteful substitute of wine as substitution.  

Hannibal pulled away almost reluctantly, trembling with want and need.  Will twisted Hannibal’s face toward him and captured his blood-soaked lips with his own.  Hannibal moaned into his mouth, his fingers gently caressing Will’s cheek.  Will’s arm dropped to his side; he could feel a trickle of blood roll down to his hand.  Flexing his fingers, his slid that hand under Hannibal’s belly and wrapped it firmly around the man’s cock. 

“Steady,” Will said soothingly as Hannibal bucked at his touch.  He squeezed the hand on Hannibal’s throat.  “I just wanted to feel if you were hard again.”

Hannibal answered with a grumbling, gurgling noise, and Will smiled.  He gave Hannibal’s cock—firm, fully erect--a twisting stroke, and then released both his cock and his throat, sitting back up onto his knees and taking hold of Hannibal’s hips instead.

The blood had smeared, he noted, looking over the expanse of Hannibal’s back—it had smudged gruesomely in patches across Hannibal’s naked skin, though it was hardly any competition to what either of them had experienced in the past.  The sight of it didn’t bother him: they’d both been made in blood; it was only appropriate they should mate in it. 

Will dug his fingers into Hannibal’s hips, and finally pulled back his hips, then fucked into Hannibal with all his strength.  Hannibal grunted at the impact, jerking with a wince.  After only a few strokes he fell down onto his elbows, head pressed into the bed between his arms as he struggled under Will’s ruthless assault.  He offered no resistance, and held his back arched into a harsh, inverted curve—wantonly offering his ass for Will to plunder.  Will could hear him gasping and whimpering, and an occasional sharp shout borne of what was doubtless as much pain as pleasure.  Those sounds were always quickly cut off.  

Throughout, Hannibal never said a word and, more impressively, never reached for his cock.  His shivering and soft cries both dripped with desperation, but he seemed to be beyond even begging now. 

“I’ll make you come,” Will promised, needing him to know that now.  Panting, he rubbed a bloodied, soothing palm over Hannibal’s hip.  “But only after I’ve finished.  Be good for me till then.”

Hannibal let out a low whine, and arched his back even further, murmuring quiet words Will couldn’t understand. 

“Good boy,” Will breathed, and barely got the words out before he was coming, spilling deep into Hannibal with a ragged moan.  Hannibal shuddered around him as he came, trembling like a butterfly caught in a glass.  Hannibal’s prostrate form remained in perfect submission through the aftershocks of Will’s orgasm, though Will could see plainly he was hanging on by a thread.   

The moment he caught his breath, Will quickly pulled out and flipped Hannibal onto his back.  Hannibal fell easily, limbs loose, his eyes dazed and unfocussed.  He half flinched each time Will touched him, as though his skin were over-sensitized.  Will looked at Hannibal’s cock, bloated and twitching.  There were spots of Will’s blood stuck to it, giving it a raw, painful look.  Will took a breath, and without another pause took it into his mouth. 

Hannibal let out a restrained screech, jerking helplessly as Will swallowed him.  Will gripped him hard by the thighs and sucked ruthlessly, demandingly.  He remembered his dream suddenly, of Hannibal ripping open his stomach and devouring him.  Now, with Hannibal’s cock in his mouth and the taste of blood on his lips, he was the one in the position to bite and tear with his teeth, to rend Hannibal into strips of flesh to be gulped down.  The thought aroused him, achingly, disturbingly, and Will groaned around Hannibal’s swollen flesh in his mouth. 

He could do it, he realized.  He could clamp his teeth down and mutilate Hannibal in a single, brutal heartbeat, then let him bleed out till the bed was drenched with his blood and there was none left inside the corpse that used to be Hannibal Lecter.  He could see Hannibal’s death clearly in his mind, as he had so many times before.  He’d never seen it through to the end, though, to the point where the blood stopped flowing.  This time, he did.  He rode through to the last moment—to the moment when Hannibal would lie still, utterly; no longer just dead, but lifeless.  The moment, when he was finally gone. 

He saw it all in his mind, and Will all at once felt he understood Hannibal better now than at any time before.  He understood also how they had never quite managed to kill each other, in all the times they’d tried.  Understood why they’d always seemed to stop themselves, just a little short.  It was because part of both of them knew—part of them had always known—that after that last, final moment…none of the other moments that followed would matter. 

Will came back to himself as Hannibal’s cum spurted onto his tongue, and Will breathed in deep through his nose.  He held Hannibal’s spunk in his mouth even as he let Hannibal’s cock fall from his lips and crawled up the length of his body.  Grabbing Hannibal’s chin, he pulled him into a ravaging kiss, and emptied Hannibal’s seed into the cavern of his mouth.  Hannibal swallowed, ever eager and ready to do what Will wanted of him, and their tongues swirled together messily as cum dripped from the corners of their lips. 

When Will finally pulled away, he gazed down at Hannibal, once again taking in all the particulars of his features in this one out of infinite moments.  He placed a hand to the side of Hannibal’s face, his thumb drying a tear under Hannibal’s left eye.  He wiped it away, and then he looked: he looked at this thing—this man, this monster, this holy abomination—that shared his bed. 

Yours…whatever else…always yours.                                                 

Will bit back a shallow gasp, and blinked the threat of a tear from the corner of his eye. 

“Say it,” Will commanded, his need suddenly very great.

Hannibal blinked up at him, a questioning furrow between his brows.   

Will swallowed.  “Say you’re mine,” he explained with only a slight tremble to his voice. 

Hannibal smiled then, his eyes dancing.  “I’m yours,” he said, his voice like music. 

“Forever?” Will pressed, his fingers tightening against the side of Hannibal’s face. 

Hannibal’s smile broadened, and he took Will’s hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. 

“At least,” Hannibal said, agreeing, and placed a kiss to Will’s palm.  “Until the end of all things, Will, I shall be, in all ways, yours.” 

Will blinked again, and this time he couldn’t fight off the tears from his eyes. 

And what will you do, when you find him?  Your Il Mostro? 

I’ll keep him, Will replied to the memory in his mind.  Yes.  I think I’ll keep him. 

He who holds the devil, let him hold him well.

Will smiled then, even through his tears.  “Oh, I will,” he murmured aloud.  “I will.”    

Hannibal sent him another questioning look at that, and Will’s smile widened.  Suddenly giddy, he fought back giggles and pressed a rambunctious kiss to Hannibal’s startled mouth. 

“I’m going to keep you, Hannibal,” Will informed him, full of mischief.  “And I’m not ever letting you go.” 

“That’s quite a promise,” Hannibal observed.  His eyes flicked over Will’s face.  “Do you think you can keep it?” 

“Oh, yes,” Will replied without hesitation.  “I do.” 

Hannibal eyes flickered.  “Well, then.” 

Will waited, but there was no more to Hannibal’s statement.  But then, there didn’t need to be.  His eyes said everything that needed to be said.

Much later, as the lay dozing off in each other’s arms, Hannibal spoke again. 

“And what can I expect?” he asked with contented amusement.  “What is my life to be?  As I’m kept by you.” 

“Oh,” Will breathed, nuzzling into Hannibal’s shoulder.  “Torment, of course.  Eternal, and unending torment.”

Hannibal’s arms drew him in closer, a soft sigh from his lips brushing against the tendrils of Will’s hair as he placed a tender kiss to Will’s brow.  And that was the last Will knew before he fell into a deep, deep sleep.