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Much to Hannibal's delight, Will's expressed an interest in learning Lithuanian.
The reason he gives out loud is innocuous enough. It's an underused language, especially in this region, which makes it useful from a practical perspective. They could discuss a potential victim's demise right in front of them and no one around would be any the wiser.
The more tender reasons are not acknowledged but they're evident in Will's eyes when he makes the request. He knows how deeply connected Hannibal is to his homeland, even after all these years. It's a connection that never stops bleeding but he nurses it all the same, in the hopes that someday it might heal enough for him to return.
Will wants to whisper sweet nothings to Hannibal in his native tongue, to mutter endless adoration in the dialect Hannibal only gets to hear in his own head. They already think in each other's voices, after all. If the voice in Hannibal's head is Will's accent speaking Lithuanian thoughts, he wants to make that a reality.
And Will is progressing very well. He's a quick learner, naturally, and he already knows French and ASL so he's accustomed to learning languages- not considering the almost sickening rate at which he had to learn Spanish to blend into Cuban society without raising suspicion. His vocabulary, conjugation, grammar- all excellent.
Yes. His written Lithuanian is stunning, as is his reading and auditory comprehension. Hannibal is very impressed. Thrilled, even.
His pronunciation is absolutely dreadful.
Anxiety is mainly to blame. Will gets nervous when Hannibal prods him to speak Lithuanian in their daily life. Even around the house, when it's only the two of them. He tries to be patient with him. It's daunting, Hannibal understands that. His dear Will is frightened of looking foolish, tripping over a language he doesn't fully grasp in front of a native speaker.
That being said,
"You won't ever improve if you don't become comfortable speaking, dearest."
Will shrugs, shifting awkwardly where he's seated.
"This is just recitation. You won't have to do any conjugation on the fly," he reassures. "You can read aloud, can't you?"
Will shifts again, pointedly avoiding Hannibal's eye. He shrugs. "My accent is really bad. I feel like I sound more Southern speaking Lithuanian than I do in English, somehow."
Hannibal cups Will's face, smiling softly. "You sound beautiful, my love. Every sound that leaves those lips is beautiful. Don't be afraid."
He relaxes a fraction at the praise, licking his lips. "Still don't get why I have to do this in your lap, though," he mutters, cheeks flushing.
Hannibal's smile turns to a smirk "You will. For now, think of it as positive reinforcement."
Will frowns and Hannibal leans back, comfortable on the loveseat in their study. "Go ahead, begin whenever you'd like. Page 18, please, and don't stop until I've instructed you to."
Will huffs from where he's perched, straddling Hannibal's thighs with a Lithuanian poetry anthology in his hands. He cracks it open, takes a centering breath, and begins.
"P-prieš valg į... nusiplaunu rankas
bažnyčioj nusiimu...nusiimu kepurę..."
His voice is shaky, anxiety painfully clear as he pauses to reread certain words, no rhythm to his recitation whatsoever. Still, he's doing rather well so far.
"That's good Will. Very good."
A small smile quirks at the corner of the other man's lips as he continues, reading softly. Hannibal listens. Will has always responded very well to praise. It doesn't go unnoticed.
His grasp on the language really is quite good. He just gets too trapped in his own head, that's all. Hannibal knows how to fix that.
He starts unfastening Will's belt.
Will's words stutter. The change in his accent is very noticeable when he shifts to English. Hannibal is forced to agree, that sweet Southern twang does get lost when Will returns to his first language.
"Metus nuosaikus... teisyb ės ieškotojas
įvald ęs g ėliųžudym- What are you doing?"
Hannibal lightly smacks Will's thigh, more of a scolding than an outright punishment. "What did I tell you? I didn't instruct you to stop, did I?"
Will laughs. "Well, no, but-"
"Then by all means, continue."
Will narrows his eyes, giving Hannibal a hard look before a beautiful glimmer of mischief sparks in them.
The game has begun.
"Alright," he says, and resumes the recitation.
"Men ą kur dar nesu, ieškoj ęs tavęs kur mano prievartos..."
Hannibal undoes Will's pants, waits until he finishes a particularly challenging stanza, and reaches into the other man's underwear.
Will's breath hitches, he pauses for the length of one shaky breath, and then he continues without comment.
"Good boy," he purrs, lightly stroking a fingertip along the length of Will's opening. He's already wet, the anticipation clearly winning out over his performance anxiety.
Will shivers as Hannibal begins to rub along his folds, pointedly avoiding his clit for the time being.
After a minute or so, Will sighs in pleasure, whispering a quiet 'fuck' under his breath. He rolls his hips against Hannibal's fingers, encouraging him, and the book falls shut.
Hannibal immediately pulls his hand out of Will's underwear, and Will bites his lip, groaning softly.
"I hope you have a very good reason for stopping, Will," he says, voice every bit adopting the role of the disappointed tutor.
Will's brows furrow, cheeks flushed. "I- that was the end. I finished the poem."
He nods. "I see"
Hannibal tilts his head, nodding to the book in Will's hand. "Page 36, then, followed by 51, 80, and 108-both of the poems on that last one. And do be more careful about your vocal flow, dear."
Will huffs, thighs clenching even as his eyes dilate noticeably. "You can't be fucking serious," he breathes, looking by equal measure horrified and excited as the full extent of the game becomes clear.
When Hannibal's only answer is an arched brow, Will takes a centering breath, muttering a few curses as he opens the book.
"Asshole," he whispers before clearing his throat. "Brendau lėtai, užraugtas iš gerų uogų ne vynuogių-"
Hannibal resumes his touches after the first stanza, slow and gentle. He's more exploratory than anything, though he already knows each millimeter of Will very well.
Will chokes when Hannibal nudges a fingertip inside of him. He's silent for only a few beats before he stammers out the next line, determined to maintain his composure. His voice dissolves into a sharp gasp as the finger works its way in, losing the final syllable. Hannibal leaves it still for a few lines before pumping it slowly, working his way deeper into his lover's warmth. Will's lashes flutter, breath quickening. A second finger starts slowly stretching him and Will tips his head back with a soft moan, rocking his hips onto the touch.
He keens when it leaves.
"Focus, Will." he says firmly. "You're barely even trying."
He flinches at the admonishing tone, well-acquainted with Hannibal's methods of expressing displeasure. "I am trying," he pants, half-whining. "I'm trying, I'm trying."
Hannibal circles his entrance again, voice low. "Show me, then. Show me that you can focus for me."
Will nods quickly, looking down at the page. He frowns.
"I- um...fuck..."
"What is it, darling?" he asks, pressing the heel of his palm to Will's swollen clit cruelly. It's a bit too much pressure to be pleasurable, by design.
Will jumps, whimpers. "I...I forget where I was. I lost my p-place."
Hannibal smiles, strokes Will's thigh with his free hand. "That's alright darling, it's okay."
Will relaxes somewhat. "It is?"
Hannibal nods. "Of course," he says, before thrusting both of his fingers deep inside of Will, making him cry out.
"You'll just have to start from the beginning."
Will groans, bouncing slightly as he tries to focus on the page.
"B-brendau lėtai, užraugtas iš ge-rų-"
He's a mess as he reads, progressively lost as Hannibal fingers him until almost every line is punctuated with a needy mewl and interrupted with either 'fuck', 'please', or a whimpered 'Hannibal'.
He only outright stops once in the next few minutes, when Hannibal finally starts circling the base of his clit with his thumb. It pulls a near-scream from the other man, such that Hannibal almost considers telling him to stop reading just so he can finally bend his lover over the desk and fuck him senseless. Will's eyes snap shut, hips bucking wildly
"Šviesi n-naktis, šilta ir švelni tary-Ahh-tum vidinė tavo šl- fuck- šlaunų pusė- Fuck this. Hannibal, come on, just let me come, please-"
He screams out a desperate slur of "No no no- Hannibal come on, fuckin' please!" when Hannibal withdrawals.
"Pay attention," he scolds. "Or shall I remove any risk of distraction?"
Will whines, panting and desperate. "No! I can do it- fuck, I can do it. Please, please fucking touch me I'll read the fucking book-" he cuts himself off with a deep groan of relief when Hannibal slips his hand back into Will's waistband, struggling to relocate his place.
The final pair of poems are short, but intentionally tricky. Will is stuttering on almost every word, voice wobbling with need as he grinds- backwards onto Hannibal's fingers and then forwards into the friction against his clit. His brows are furrowed in concentration, earnestly trying to perform properly, to impress. He's barely coherent.
When he accidentally skips over a line and Hannibal makes him begin again, tears start gathering in his eyes. He gets lost between one phrase and the next on the second attempt, muscles clenching helplessly around Hannibal's fingers. Hannibal can tell the other man is too gone to focus, intends to let the mistake slide if Will picks up somewhere else. But his Will starts over without being scolded, tears falling down his cheeks as he fights to keep his eyes open, his voice in check, to stay present.
He tries again, gasping for air. His voice breaks on the third line. "F-fuck, Hannibal- I can't do it. I can't. Please. Please please I can't take it, please."
Hannibal thinks for a moment. He regards Will's hands, white-knuckled and shaking uncontrollably where he holds the book in a vice-like grip. He sighs.
"Look at me, mylimasis," he whispers in a gentle tone.
Will looks up. His face red and tear-stained, big blue eyes blown and wet.
"You can do it."
He shakes his head, sobbing. Hannibal shushes him.
"You can. I know that you can. You're so clever, darling. You speak so beautifully. Just recite these, and you'll be finished."
Will swallows, trying to find his breath. Hannibal's hand has stilled, fingers still nestled deep inside of him. After a moment, he sniffles and starts reading in a shaky voice.
"Tamsoj...tamsoj, tampi švitrinė..."
"That's it, darling. Take it slow if you need to," he says, curling his fingers and making him tremble.
"T-tamsoj, prita...pritampam-"
"Very, very good. You're doing so very well, mylimasis."
"K-kaip vienas...Hannibal...mėnuo prie kito."
Will sobs when he finishes the final line, collapsing against Hannibal's shoulder and clutching him tightly, book falling with a loud thud onto the hardwood floor.
"Very good," Hannibal says, letting Will fuck himself on his hand as he keens at the praise. "I'm so proud of you, Will. You did so well. I knew you could do it."
Will bites down on Hannibal's shoulder when he finally orgasms, shaking in his arms. Hannibal whispers kind words- both in English and Lithuanian- in his ear as Will twitches with muffled cries. Sobs and moans seem to blur together, and by the time he's finished he falls apart. His arms are thrown around Hannibal's neck, he cries and begs Hannibal to take Will to bed or to the bath, somewhere warm where they can hold one another. Hannibal is still for a minute or two, letting him come down from what was clearly a very overwhelming experience for him.
"Was that too much for you, my love?" Hannibal eventually asks, hoisting him into his arms to carry his lover upstairs.
"Way too much," Will says, sniffling. "...but I liked it. If you wanted to do it again."
Hannibal kisses Will's sweat-damp curls, smiling as he breathes him in. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, overall. Perhaps next time you could attempt to hold a conversation in Lithuanian with me."
Will groans at the thought, wrapping arms and legs tighter around him for security. Whether it's a groan of anticipation or dread is unclear.
"You're lucky I love you." he says, muffled against Hannibal's shoulder.
"Pardon? I don't believe I understood you."
Will sighs sharply.
"Aš tave myliu, bastard."
Hannibal chuckles, kissing Will's temple. "Aš tave myliu, mylimasis."