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Will woke to the eerie sway and call of the theremin, the sound stretching and contracting in gentle pulses. He blinked himself awake, blearily watching Hannibal’s hands come into focus, moving to and fro through the air, shivering in the air to create vibrato, fluttering back and forth in a complicated rhythm. He recognised the tune - Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz. Momentarily confused and a little enchanted, he smiled at the normally classical Hannibal straying into something so contemporary and American.
He shuffled himself into a sitting position, admiring the strong lines of Hannibal’s back and the curve of his biceps. Hannibal was gloriously shirtless and sitting at the edge of the bed, the brand on his back pulling tight on his skin. The theremin was on the floor in front of him as the golden light from the morning sun shone through a gap in the curtains and illuminated his hair. Will looked at the strands, here grey, here brown, here streaked with blonde, and remembered the silken feel of them under his fingers. He wanted to crawl up behind him, bury his hands in Hannibal’s hair and tilt his head around for a kiss. He also wanted to stay here forever, and watch him in peace.
“This is not a museum, Will. You do not have to look and not touch.”
Laughing lowly, Will crawled up to Hannibal, plastering his bare chest against Hannibal’s back, his thighs spread wide on the outside of Hannibal’s, mouthing absently at his ear. He wound his arms around Hannibal’s torso and tucked his head over his shoulder, watching his hands move, the music spectral and haunting, much like the man himself. They stayed that way for a long while, their breathing synching until they moved as one organism, chests rising and falling in tandem, falling into a meditative space where nothing else existed - just blood and breath and the notes quivering in the air and the two of them. Will closed his eyes, smelling Hannibal’s sleep warm scent, warm and dark just like him.
“Did you sleep well, Will?”
“Mmmm,” he agreed, pressing soft kisses to the column of Hannibal’s neck. “Happier being awake though.”
Hannibal finished the song and let his hands fall to cover Will’s. He nuzzled his head into the side of Will’s and Will felt a warmth bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with love. He had gone so long without initiating touch with anyone. Even with Molly, there had been something closed off inside him. But ever since that night on the bluff, since he had reached out for Hannibal and wrapped himself around his body, something had snapped inside him and he hadn’t been able to stop touching and holding him.
“Why Over The Rainbow?” he asked.
Will could feel Hannibal’s cheek pull as he smiled.
“I thought you would recognise the tune. I wanted to wake you up, but you looked so peaceful sleeping.”
“I’m up now,” muttered Will, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek scar.
“Would you like to play?” asked Hannibal, gesturing towards the theremin.
Will ground his erection into Hannibal’s ass, hands sliding down his torso, feeling the planes of his abdomen, the soft skin, the coarse hair, teasing and suggesting a different start to their morning.
“I had something else in mind.”
Hannibal twisted around, placing one hand on the side of Will’s face, pulling him into a kiss. Will responded eagerly, uncaring for morning breath or anything else. His desire for Hannibal was a deep, dark well, from which emotion bubbled, a hungry throat. He had long given himself up to be swallowed whole into its abyss. Hannibal kissed him sweetly; Will kissed him to devour. He could feel Hannibal smiling into the kiss, pleased by Will’s passion and fervour. It urged him to nip at Hannibal’s bottom lip, frame his face with his hands, lick into his mouth and slide his tongue against his, wet and claiming.
Will clambered into Hannibal’s lap and pushed him down onto the bed, hovering over him. He smiled at him, seeing his face fully for the first time that morning. He drank with his eyes first, roving his gaze over that face, that hair, those eyes. Hannibal let him look, and looked back in return. Will searched for something in the lines of his skin, the heat of his body, and found nothing to quench his thirst other than to drink from those lips again. Loving Hannibal felt like radiating a blinding light, illuminating every part of his soul, leaving him bare and raw. Naked, and not just physically. Seen to his very core, hollowed out and left consumed. He felt the urge to consume in turn, until Hannibal was as bare as him - or at least, resting deep where Will’s body had cracked and opened.
He pulled back when it felt like his head was spinning from lack of oxygen to see swollen lips, a flush on high cheekbones and dazed eyes. A vicious claw of satisfaction seemed to drag through him at the sight, at his design, his handiwork. Hannibal dragged his hands up Will’s back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They curled into his hair as he sat up again, leaving Will seated in his lap.
“Will,” he muttered as Will leaned forward to kiss his neck.
“Mmm?”
“Will, I did want, mmm, I wanted to teach, ahhh, to teach you how to play.”
Will groaned in frustration, letting his head fall onto Hannibal’s shoulder.
“Did you really?” he asked, pulling back.
Hannibal hummed in assent.
“I once taught Alana.”
This brought Will up short as his vision tunneled. Alana, soft beautiful Alana, naked and in Hannibal’s bed, with his arms around her, intimate and joyous. Blue eyed, black haired Alana, her tresses curling over Hannibal’s sex warm skin as her hands deftly manipulated the air. Alana, untouchable, unknowable Alana, known in bed, known in spirit. Will growled and in a flash, a hand was around Hannibal’s throat, squeezing. Another was in his hair, pulling it taut.
“Did you like it?” he asked, feeling the blood rush hot and angry through his veins. “Did she feel good in your arms?”
Hannibal’s eyes were bright, glinting sharply like knives on a butcher’s board. His breath came in wheezes as their faces remained separated only by a few inches, and he bared his teeth as he grinded his cock into Will’s ass.
“No one feels as good in my arms as you do, Will.”
He pushed Hannibal back down onto the bed, increasing the pressure, cutting off his breath as he stared deep into his eyes.
“I should kill you for sleeping with her,” he said, watching his fingers as they wrapped around Hannibal’s neck, like a coiling snake.
“Then why are you waiting?” gasped out Hannibal, face turning red.
Will let go and Hannibal heaved a breath in before that too was stolen from him by Will savagely descending onto him with a flurry of biting kisses that sought to claim and possess.
“Will,” panted Hannibal as he ducked down to suck biting bruises onto well charted skin. “Will, I thought of you the whole time. I wanted it to be you. I still want it to be you.”
Will sunk a bite into Hannibal’s neck until he hissed in pain, before backing up and licking over the bite, worrying the skin around it. The bite was red and angry and his. All of Hannibal was his. He wanted to erase their history, erase their past conquests. Hannibal had made his way inside his mind, then inside his body. It was only fair that Will got to do the same, to rearrange his world the way his had been reconfigured. Alana had no place in their bed nor did any other human being. He wanted to obliterate the whole world until the only thing left for Hannibal was Will, and their bed, and their love and their violence.
“Get up,” he said, hauling Hannibal up. “Take your briefs off.”
He dragged Hannibal to the edge of the bed again, getting off the bed to take his own boxers off and grabbing lube from the drawer on the bedside table. He set the lube beside Hannibal, turning around and perching himself squarely on his now naked lap, facing the theremin. Hannibal’s cock was hard and nestled between the globes of Will’s ass. His arms slowly snaked down Will’s biceps then his forearms until his hands were cupping Will’s. He slowly moved Will’s hands until a note was produced, deep and quavering. Anger and hunger gnawed inside Will at his touch.
“The theremin is a delicate instrument, utterly unique, borne out of government research in the Russian Civil War,” he said, his voice accented and smoky, lips sliding over Will’s ear and hair. “Notoriously difficult to master and controlled without physical touch, you must determine pitch, or rather frequency, with one hand, and the volume with the other. You play the notes, and you play the rests.”
Will let his voice wash over him as Hannibal demonstrated the pitch getting higher as their hands moved closer to the right antenna and lower as they moved towards the middle. He moved their fingers back and forth as a gentle vibrato made the note flutter through the air. Slowly he brought their hands back and forth in a pattern, and Will felt his anger melt away in an instant as he realised the notes were the opening to Silent Night.
“Christmas carols? Really?” he asked with a laugh.
“It is an easily recognisable tune, and not too difficult a tempo for a beginner either.” He let go of Will’s arms and said, “Keep going. Experiment and find the notes.”
Will had learned how to play the piano as a child. He wasn’t a prodigy nor did he find it a particularly engaging hobby, preferring to be knee deep in water or hunting bugs under logs or covered to his elbows in engine grease. But he did know his notes and he played with them now, sliding his hands back and forth to find the right volume and the spacing between the pitches. Hannibal’s hands were rather distractingly stroking over his skin as he pressed kisses to the back of his neck and breathed in his scent at the base of his skull.
He heard the quick click of the bottle of lube and took a deep breath, determined to recreate the same four notes Hannibal had taught him without distraction. Hannibal’s lube wet fingers found his hole as he found his rhythm. His hands stuttered as he felt those clever, dangerous fingers tease his rim and massage over the sensitive skin. He moaned a little and ground his hips down for a second before desisting.
“Keep going,” murmured Hannibal, pushing one finger into his hole.
Will let out an involuntary gasp at the intrusion, hips twitching.
Hannibal rubbed his stubble against Will’s heating neck, moving his finger in and out of Will, spreading the lube up inside him. Will strained to identify the next notes in the carol, finding it incredibly difficult to focus on anything other than the feel of Hannibal’s finger inside of him. Just as he figured out the next few bars, Hannibal crooked his finger, brushing his prostate. Will moaned, fingers spasming in the air as his whole body shuddered.
“Oh, Will, I don’t know what is more beautiful - the music you’re trying to play or the music your body is making,” said Hannibal reverently, spare hand stroking down Will’s flank.
A second finger pushed alongside the first and Will felt droplets of sweat bead along his hairline and temple. Hannibal mouthed wetly along his neck, one arm anchoring his torso as Will tried and failed to retain his composure. The arm snaked down his own and moved him to play again as he fingered Will. The theremin wailed as Hannibal fingerfucked him gently, hitting his prostate every now and then and sending a surge of pleasure down Will’s spine. The blasphemy wasn’t lost on him either, and he mused on Hannibal’s choice in music absently as he stared at Hannibal’s hand on his.
Two fingers became three and now Will couldn’t take it anymore. He had tried valiantly to remain still and steady but now he rocked back onto the intruding fingers that were claiming him from the inside, making him wet and open for Hannibal’s cock. With each stroke, the bundle of nerves inside him flared bright and sharp and he felt his cock leaking against his thigh. He trembled lightly as Hannibal played his body like the instrument in front of him, moaning and gasping, unaware of the notes the theremin was now producing.
“Some technique you’re teaching me,” gasped Will as Hannibal scissored his fingers open. He groaned at the stretch. “I don’t know the first thing about playing this infernal instrument.”
Hannibal twisted his fingers inside Will harshly in reprimand and Will choked on a whimper. But then Hannibal removed his fingers and coolly placed his wet fingers next to Will’s left hand and said, “You aren’t focusing on this hand enough. The notes are all blending and running into each other. Focus on separating them.”
Will blinked the stars from his eyes, suddenly empty and aching and fiercely annoyed.
“What?” he demanded.
“You were kind enough to remind me of my duties. Your technique requires improvement.”
He sounded even, his voice sly and calm, and Will could detect the amusement in it. It did nothing to ease the desire running through him.
“God,” he said, grinding back on Hannibal’s hard cock where it lay beneath his asscheeks. “I was joking, please get inside me now.”
“But you were right, Will. An education is not something to be taken lightly.”
“Enough, Hannibal. Enough teasing.”
“I thought you wanted me to teach you properly, Will,” teased Hannibal.
“Damn it, Hannibal,” he said in frustration. “I have to do everything myself,” he muttered.
Before Hannibal could protest, he reached behind to grab his cock and raised himself up onto the hooded head before sinking down onto it. The head popped in and they moaned in tandem, Will at the stretch and Hannibal at the sensation of fever hot, silk smooth and vice tight flesh encasing his length. In halting and jerky movements, Will lowered himself until he was properly sitting on Hannibal’s cock. He could feel each inch inside him, making him full and sore where he was stretched widest at its base.
“Will,” moaned Hannibal, his voice whiskey to Will’s ears. “Move.”
Will knew what he meant, but payback was a bitch and instead of rocking up and down on Hannibal’s cock as the other man wanted, he played the opening notes of Silent Night, this time moving his right hand accordingly to separate the notes properly.
“Like this?” he asked innocently, turning his head to look into Hannibal’s pleasure glazed eyes and quirking his eyebrows.
Hannibal growled and braced his feet on the floor, hands on Will’s hips before moving out of his hole in a firm slide and fucking up roughly. Will’s mouth fell open in a soundless moan as Hannibal started a hard rhythm inside him, their hips smacking together.
“Brat,” he said, squeezing Will’s ass before smacking his cheeks lightly in admonition.
Will couldn’t resist and on the next slide out, he raised himself lightly and fell back down on Hannibal’s cock as he slid in. They moaned in tandem, Hannibal halting his movements as Will began to ride him in earnest. Hannibal’s hands roved over him, as Will leaned back against his chest to find some semblance of stability. He plucked at Will’s nipples, rolling them in his fingers as Will moaned at the stretch, the friction, the way his whole body was on fire.
This was heaven, there was nothing he knew other than Hannibal’s cock inside him, his hands on his body, his lips on his neck. There was no higher pleasure, no higher calling. If he died right now, Will would die a very happy man. He worked his ass up and down Hannibal’s cock, clenching hard on every other stroke just to feel the other man’s hips shoot up uncontrollably and hear that usually unflappable exterior crack into a muttered Italian curse or a low groan that Will could feel in his chest.
Hannibal grasped his hands which had fallen to grip the bedspread and raised them back to the theremin, manipulating them in a complicated rhythm. Will let out a disbelieving laugh as music filled the air again, rising and falling like his body in Hannibal’s lap. How Hannibal could focus on anything else, he didn’t know. For him, all knowledge and sensation had focused to their joined points of connection but mostly to the wet and obscene slide of Hannibal’s cock, hard and hot, in and out of him, over and over again until he felt he was losing his mind a little.
He felt liquid, fluid, untethered to his own skin, only held together by the body caging him. His thighs burned but he couldn’t stop chasing the feeling of being full, overfull, plugged and gutted. The consistent rubbing, nudging, pressing weight of Hannibal's cock over his prostate was addictive, coursing through his veins like a drug, changing the colours of the world to something incandescent.
On the next slide of Hannibal’s cock inside him, he looked back at Hannibal over his shoulder, heated and wanton, moaning loudly, both from the intense pleasure and a little for show, knowing it would drive Hannibal mad. It had its intended effect and Hannibal closed his eyes briefly, overcome. Will allowed himself one fierce grin of satisfaction and kissed him hard, tongue slipping wetly into Hannibal’s willing mouth. Hannibal rolled his hips up to meet Will as he bounced on his cock, working his fucked out hole over the length that filled him so perfectly. He stroked his hand possessively over Will's stomach scar, working his way up to Will’s chest, rubbing at his nipples, alternating his touches back and forth until they were raw points of pleasured pain.
The stimulation was like nothing he had known before Hannibal but now he couldn’t get enough of it. Hannibal kissed down his spine as low as he could reach before dragging back up, lips and tongue licking a wet and cooling stripe along his overheated skin. Will shuddered at the sensation, Hannibal’s cock jarring something fierce inside him at the movement. His eyes rolled back in his head, his head falling onto Hannibal’s shoulder as he panted. Almost immediately, Hannibal pressed soft kisses over his face as Will fucked himself onto his cock in harsh movements, sliding up then down then grinding hard then back again.
Hannibal was no longer fucking him like before but his hips thrusted abortively every now and then, lighting Will up from the inside. He felt like he was glowing, the heat rising off of the two of them. The closeness of their bodies was so absolute now, he felt as though they could collapse into one another like a dying star, their particles pulled together by an interminable gravity. He felt fused to Hannibal, neither of them existing independent of the other anymore, an astronomical oddity that had by some strange twist of fate found existence here on Earth.
Will could hear and not hear the theremin - it was there and not there at the same time. Hannibal was moving his hands but he was barely aware of them, only aware of Hannibal’s sharp eyes that trailed down his body and stared at their entwined hands like a physical touch. He never felt as seen, as naked, as laid bare as when he knew Hannibal’s eyes were on him. It was a tricky thing, eye contact. Will had never liked it before. Before Hannibal. A time that no longer seemed relevant to him. There was only after - here and now and after. The irreparably and irredeemably changed after. The after where Hannibal’s eyes could drown him in an instant and he would be buried in a forest of brown, warm and dark and smoky.
His breaths came in hitched pants, he moaned and whined and whimpered and all the time Hannibal soothed him with kisses and licks over his neck. He knew then that when all was said and done, he would be marked with an impressive ring of bruises no shirt could hide. The pressure in his gut to come increased, his hair fell into his eyes and he blew it out absentmindedly, sweat trickling down his neck and back.
Will moaned out Hannibal’s name who moaned something broken in return, their pleasure lit up like a feedback loop climbing higher and higher, the theremin echoing their moans like a lewd chorus. With a start Will realised that Hannibal was making him play the theremin as the same pitch as his moans. He half laughed, half whined, scandalised at Hannibal’s depravity, and turned around to capture him in a biting kiss. Hannibal knew what had happened for he too laughed into the kiss, letting go of Will’s hands to cup his face. Will let his aching arms drop, tired of holding them out.
“Tired yet, my darling?” he asked as Will’s movements slowed.
By this point, Will’s thighs were burning and his cock was leaking. He wanted to come badly.
“Yes,” he whispered.
In a flash, Hannibal lifted him off his cock and manhandled him onto the bed, laying him down on the crumpled bedclothes and sliding back inside Will. The lube was drying now and the slide in was tinged with uncomfortable friction. Will winced. Immediately, attuned to Will’s every need, Hannibal pulled out and added more lube to his cock from the abandoned bottle. Will smiled appreciatively and reached out to him.
“Come here,” he said, sliding his aching arms up and around Hannibal’s back and neck.
Hannibal grasped an ankle and pressed a kiss there, then up his calf trailing kisses, then up to his shaking thighs. He buried his head between Will’s spread legs and bit harshly, on one thigh then the other in a sudden movement.
“Christ!” shouted Will, shocked and shaky, shooting up and grasping Hannibal’s hair tightly. He had not broken skin but it was a near thing and the bites throbbed angrily.
Hannibal raised his head and grinned impishly at Will, brown eyes locking onto blue ones. He grabbed Will’s legs and wrapped them around his waist. With a growl, Will accepted Hannibal’s cock into his body, equal parts violent and turned on. He was hard and leaking and needed to come and Hannibal wasted no time, pounding away in Will from the get go. His cock entered Will’s swollen hole in one slick, glorious slide and stayed buried there, Hannibal not pulling out far but pummelling into Will fast and hard, his hips slamming against the meat of Will’s ass.
With every smacking staccato thrust, Will felt himself get moved up the bed, the headboard knocking loudly against the wall. Hannibal’s soft chest hair grazed against Will’s chest, masculine and erotic, his thighs pushing Will’s apart, his arms on either side of Will’s head. The squelching of Hannibal’s cock inside him made him blush but he refused to look away, the gaze too intense to be broken. Hannibal leaned down to kiss him and he kissed back with all the power he was able to muster, fighting back with every inch of his energy. Hannibal growled and trailed his hands down to Will’s ass, readjusting his position before positively plowing into him. Will detached from his mouth as he let out an obscene moan, each thrust now meeting his prostate even harder than before.
The abused bundle of nerves sent jolts of electricity down his spine and he mewled at the feeling. Their hot shared breaths puffed between them as Hannibal stared down at his unseeing eyes and slack mouth. Will slid one hand down onto Hannibal’s back, scratching and raking his nails over Hannibal’s skin, his fingernails catching slightly on the raised burn at its centre. Hannibal hissed and leaned down to bite Will’s collarbones in return. Will pulled on his hair to disengage him from his skin before craning up to kiss him once again. Their lovemaking was violent and brutal now.
"Mine," growled Will, clawing at Hannibal's back, hips gyrating up to meet his thrusts. "Only mine."
"Yours," said Hannibal, leaning down to kiss him.
Kissing Hannibal felt like murder, like a live kill. His mouth tasted less like him and more like Will by this point. Will wound himself around Hannibal even tighter and moaned into his mouth at the thought of carving Hannibal open and replacing him with parts of himself. He imagined cutting into that tan skin and grafting himself in there instead, inosculated with him forever like trees, growing to and from one another, searching for the same light.
Will had no idea how long it went on; the slightly feral kisses, the yanks of hair, the drag of nails, the bites and harsh smack of hips. All he knew was the tightly coiling pleasure, pulsing in his ass and his balls and behind his gut and in his spine and deep inside his very veins. All he heard was their moans and cut off curses and moist breaths, loud in the apartment as they held nothing back. He wondered what the neighbours in the next apartment would think for a second before disregarding them and all other cogent thought as Hannibal’s lube slick hand wrapped around his cock and began jerking him off.
“Hannibal,” he moaned. “Oh, God.”
“Will, you are exquisite,” said Hannibal, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead in contrast to his earlier savage bites.
“Hannibal,” was all he could moan out, close and aching, ready to come, his turgid flesh manipulated deftly in Hannibal’s large hand.
“Will, I love you,” moaned Hannibal, and that was it for Will.
He came hard, back arching under Hannibal, pushing his cock up into Hannibal’s fist, spurting cum over his fingers and abdomen, and over Will’s own belly. He twitched, toes curling, fingers grasping at Hannibal’s sweaty back as he shuddered, muscles locking in place. He was dimly aware of Hannibal fucking in even harder into the wet clench of his hole and placing kisses on outstretched neck as he panted out his release.
When he came back to earth, his brain returning from the static it had been in, Hannibal was feverishly pressing kisses to his face, cock jackrabbiting into him in erratic strokes, sending borderline painful tingles of pleasurable oversensitivity into him.
“Hannibal,” he whispered, petting over his hair, soft and pliant now. “Hannibal, I love you.”
“Cazzo,” he swore, hips losing all rhythm as he began to chase his own orgasm, fucking in and out of Will’s sore hole, harder and harder until Will felt his head hit the headboard.
He shot one arm out to steady himself, as Hannibal wormed his hand beneath his head to cushion it, their foreheads touching. With a few hard thrusts, Hannibal came, cock twitching wetly inside Will, filling him up with cum. Will stroked his hands down his spine, soothing him as he buried his head in the hollow between Will’s neck and shoulder. He was murmuring nonsensical words into Hannibal’s ear, reassuring and tender, letting him know how good he was, how good he felt inside him.
When Hannibal raised his head to meet Will’s eyes, stubble dragging over Will’s beard, his eyes were wet and he kissed Will, sweetly this time, almost saccharine in his tenderness. He pulled back, his breath slowing down from pants to something more normal, slow and measured. Gently, he pulled his softening cock out of Will, who sighed at the feeling of cum rushing out of him, slicking his balls and inner thighs.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling as Hannibal laid down beside him, pulling Will into his chest.
“A very good morning indeed,” mused Hannibal. “I trust you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did, and I learned something very important, too,” said Will seriously, fingers trailing up and down Hannibal’s chest.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“That it’s very easy to make me do something provided you make me jealous first.”
Hannibal lacked the grace to look guilty or sheepish. Instead he smiled a little, triumphant. Will shook his head fondly, used to Hannibal’s antics.
“If you expect me to feel bad, Will, you have encouraged me in the wrong direction,” he said, raking a hand through Will’s sweaty curls.
Will smiled and leaned into the touch.
“Only fair, I suppose, after I made you feel jealous for so many years,” he mused.
“Even Steven,” echoed Hannibal.
They laid there, basking in the afterglow for several blissful minutes. Then-
“Will?”
“Yes, Hannibal?”
“How do you feel about another lesson?”
Will contemplated the question then flashed a heated smile at Hannibal.
“Can’t wait.”