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The scent of domesticated canines and expired cheap aftershave weren’t Hannibal’s favourites, but they were things that he was only too happy to endure if it meant that Will was offering his trust, his vulnerability, by allowing another person to sleep in his home. He appreciated how Will let them use the upstairs bedroom, so as not to be surrounded by the pack, and so that Hannibal’s suit could be hung up in a cupboard where it wouldn’t get covered in dog hair.
He also appreciated how Will cooked for them, subtly boasting his capabilities as a provider by using his own freshly caught fish, casually allowing his masculinity in their relationship to take root, knowing that it was something that Hannibal found immeasurably attractive.
It wasn’t that Hannibal felt notably effeminate, nor did he have any desires to be a maiden that needed to be taken care of, but as Will became more comfortable in their blossoming relationship, he had started to embody a kind of simple confidence that made Hannibal swoon. Just a little. Ideally, when no one was looking.
On more than one occasion, he had considered purchasing less overtly male-coded clothing, if only to see what Will would do. He had an inkling that a skirt might bring something out in the man, and that was an experiment he fully intended to test some day, perhaps sooner rather than later.
But it wasn’t just thoughts of experimentation in the area of gender exploration that had started to whirl around inside the corridors of Hannibal’s memory palace. Will had certainly planted seeds that had begun to take root in that area, and Hannibal was admittedly becoming more at ease with his true lack of gender, but there were other ideas taking form there as well. Some more unexpected than others.
As he laid beside his sleeping partner, nestled against the heat of his body, he started to make a startling realisation. Will’s encephalitis was undoubtedly becoming more severe, and Hannibal had found himself less inclined to induce seizures as of late. It was almost as though he was beginning to feel something like doubt, or perhaps an even more unfamiliar sensation – guilt.
He leaned in close, gently pressing the tip of his nose against the back of Will’s neck, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils to inhale that familiar sickly sweet scent of sickness, tinged with a heat that was almost akin to dwindling embers. He no longer found reassurance in that familiarity, no comfort in the knowledge that if Will ever discovered the truth about him, that Hannibal would be able to enact a plan to ensure that he would remain free and unburdened by the special agent’s desire for righteousness.
He let out a slow breath, feeling the fine hairs along Will’s nape moving with the flow of air. With a slight knot of irritation in his stomach, Hannibal knew that once they were up and out of bed, he would have to make a decision. Sometimes in life, there weren’t good decisions, only decisions. He would wait for Will to engage in his daily ritual of making cheap, bitter coffee, and then he would tell him.
‘Darling, I am concerned that you may be unwell, and I do not believe that it is psychological. Your lapses in memory are becoming worryingly habitual. If you will indulge me, I have an old neurologist colleague that I would like you to see.’
Until then, he could at least satiate himself on Will’s illness, to keep the memory alive and well inside his mind, as a small reminder of what could have been, what path he could have taken if this man hadn’t managed to worm his way inside both Hannibal’s heart and his bed.
He slid his nose along that warm, bare body, memorising the scent, before pausing at the spot just behind Will’s ear. At first, he just kissed the skin there, relishing the temperature against his lips. Feeling that Will was still deep in slumber and unresponsive, the slick, moist muscle of Hannibal’s tongue escaped his lips to taste the perspiration that had gathered across the younger man’s flesh. Like a cat lapping at the most delectable cream, he savoured the piquancy that existed across that overheated dermis, exploring the curve of Will’s mastoid bone.
The speed at which blood rushed between Hannibal’s legs would have been embarrassing if that were an emotion he was acquainted with. Instead, all he felt was a low, searing want in his gut that had become synonymous with Will Graham. He could hardly feel ashamed when this deity among men allowed him beneath his sheets, granting access to something so very inviting.
As his mouth explored the column of Will’s throat, feeling the slowly fluttering pulse of the carotid artery there, he shifted his hips slightly along the mattress to press his rapidly hardening length against the other man’s rear. There was something undeniably alluring about having admittance to Will’s body in this way, that a man usually plagued by nightmares was able to sleep so soundly and with such security in the presence of an unrepentant predator.
His fingertips stroked along Will’s side beneath the thin duvet, dancing across his frame until they reached his hip, which Hannibal gripped hard enough to pull back against his cock, providing just a tease of friction between their bodies. He could feel his own breath deepening, desire forming a thick knot deep in his core that required gratification.
Hannibal was, without question, a selfish person.
With a firm, steady touch, he slid a hand between the back of Will’s thighs to lift one of his legs just enough that Hannibal could nudge closer and press his now full erection between those muscular limbs, nestling his length in that superb heat. With Will’s leg back in place, Hannibal stroked his hand across Will’s stomach and planted it gently over his abdomen as he started to move. Just slow rocking motions of his hips, Will’s body gripping his foreskin to create the kind of perfect friction that had Hannibal’s eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
He pressed his face against the back of Will’s shoulder, occasionally nuzzling at his skin in time with his slow, drawn-out thrusts. As sunlight started to tease its way through the bedroom curtains, two things started to happen simultaneously.
Firstly, Hannibal’s movements became increasingly smoother as he felt the slick arousal that was gathering between Will’s legs, coating his cock and creating soft, lewd squelching noises beneath the blanket.
Secondly, Will’s breathing had started to pick up, and his brow gave the odd little twitch, until eventually, faint little sounds were escaping his throat, and his hand was shifting as though vaguely reaching for something, his consciousness not quite able to escape the confines of sleep just yet.
Hannibal reached for that wandering appendage, intertwining their fingers as he brought his lips to Will’s ear. “Even wet for me in your sleep. So very needy, darling,” he murmured.
Will made a soft noise that was probably supposed to be words, but instead it just came out as a grumbling little sound of protest, his hand instinctively clenching around Hannibal’s grasp.
A small sigh escaped Hannibal’s lips as he pushed his hips a little harder, his lips parting to gently scrape his teeth against the meat of Will’s shoulder. He had to use every ounce of control not to bite down, not yet.
As he changed the angle of his thrusts slightly, a low groan emerged from his throat as he felt the tip of his cock nudging against that tight, forbidden entrance between Will’s legs. They’d discussed Will’s sex life, or more accurately, Hannibal had probed Will for details of his sex life. So he was aware that the younger man’s experiences laid primarily in anal penetration, though he got the impression that it had been a long time since such forays.
The profiler’s sweet cunt, however…
He was drawn from his thoughts by a noise that was not unlike a kittenish mewl, breathy and needy, close to his ear. He was unaccustomed to such saccharine sounds coming from his lover, and it had him gripping Will’s hand a little harder than intended, causing the brunette to stir slightly.
“...’nnibal..?” Will murmured, eyes still closed as he squirmed, though Hannibal made sure to hold him close and captured in his grasp.
“It’s alright, darling, you’re just having a wonderful dream,” Hannibal whispered against the shell of his ear with another firm rock of his hips, breathing sharply through his nostrils as he pushed against that resistant flesh again.
“I– I have work–” Will protested groggily with the faintest hint of something resembling a whine.
“Not yet, you don’t,” Hannibal replied, pressing a kiss to Will’s tragus. “It’s still early.”
“How early– ah!” Will gasped as Hannibal tilted his head to press a canine into the tender canvas of his throat.
The action had a most curious effect, as Hannibal felt Will push himself back against the organ perversely seated between his thighs, causing Will’s entire body to give a small shudder.
“Has anyone ever ravaged you in this way, Will..? With something other than fingers?” Hannibal asked, reluctantly letting go of Will’s hand to instead slide his fingers down along his stomach, trailing past the alluring V-shape of his pelvis, dipping further across a nest of dark, curly hair.
“No,” Will confessed, his voice so delicately small.
“No,” Hannibal echoed, having to resist the urge to groan at that appetising piece of information. He placed two fingers on either side of Will’s hardened phallus, feeling his excitement between his digits. “But you like my fingers, don’t you?”
“Y-yeah–” Will practically whimpered the words.
“Wouldn’t you like to feel something bigger?” Hannibal whispered, his voice deliberately low and breathy against Will’s skin, knowing how it made his lover shiver. “Wouldn’t you like to be violated by the very person whom you’ve mounted like a bitch in heat?”
Will let out a harsh sound, something almost wounded, as Hannibal emphasised his question with another cruel thrust, pushing a boundary that had not yet been fully established, both physically and metaphorically. He wouldn’t enter him, not without consent. He wasn’t a monster, at least not in Will’s eyes.
Not yet.
“You do trust me, don’t you?” He continued to whisper, giving the stubbled meat of Will’s jaw a small nip.
Will seemed to pause, and Hannibal caught sight of his eyes blinking open, not quite focused, still crusted with sleep. He could almost hear the cogs turning inside that sharp mind, fighting against lethargy. He remained perfectly still, aside from his fingers giving small, lazy strokes of Will’s engorged cock.
“But— there’s no condoms in the house, Hannibal,” Will murmured, his voice still rough from slumber.
“I am regularly tested, and you have been my only intimate partner for the last six months,” Hannibal admitted, sliding a thumb across the wet, rounded head of Will’s erection. “You have not experienced signs of fertility in some years, is that correct?”
“Christ, you’re awful at bedroom talk–”
Hannibal silenced Will with a sharp thrust, the tip of his cock pressing in just enough to breach, feeling the warmth of the other man’s body stretching to accommodate the invasion. The harsh gasp sucked from Will’s lungs only confirmed his inexperience, and Hannibal’s control was holding on by a thread.
“What if I wish to fill you so deeply and so thoroughly with my seed that you’re forced to carry traces of my scent, my essence, my very DNA inside of you whilst you are surrounded by unknowing students and colleagues, hm?” Hannibal murmured, holding his hips still, his breathing becoming slightly ragged with his wearing patience.
“You’re– ngh– so fucking possessive,” Will grunted, his hands clutching at the duvet over his body, almost clawing at the fabric.
“Would you like me to stop?” Hannibal asked breathlessly, unable to disguise the smirk pulling at his lips.
“Don’t you dare– ah! Fuck–” Will’s curse melded into a muffled sound as he pressed his face into the plain blue cotton duvet cover, the sound forced from his lungs by another short, sharp thrust of Hannibal’s hips.
The older man took a moment to relish the sensation of driving into that tight heat, his cock seated halfway inside a place that he now considered thoroughly his. His next movements were slow and purposeful, his hand slipping away from Will’s arousal to grab his hip instead, pulling Will’s body back to gradually impale him on the full length of his aching appendage.
“Tell me how it feels,” Hannibal requested, forcing some level of composure into his voice. “I know you’re tired, darling, but I need to hear you tell me.”
“It’s, ah– it’s a lot,” Will mumbled, his words a little obfuscated by the way he still had his face pressed into the bedding. “Jesus…”
“Is it sore, my love?” Hannibal asked. “You’re gripping me like you were made for me. Have I split this precious flesh of yours?”
As Will choked out a pathetic sound with a firm nod of his head, Hannibal’s eyes fluttered closed with rapturous delight at the thought that the other man was suffering the burn of tissue broken by his size. He started to rock his hips as he spooned his lover, the almost tender motions gradually becoming easier as Will’s body adapted to the intrusion.
He slipped his hand once more between Will’s legs, angling himself so that he could press his fingertips to where they were conjoined, causing Will to wince slightly as he inspected the area with a touch that was as clinical as it was utterly, unabashedly perverse.
When he removed his hand and brought it out from beneath the duvet to survey his fingers, he was sure that his heart must have stopped abruptly inside his chest. He let out a slow breath as he observed the faint streaks of red across the pads of his fingers, and, without a word, he wrapped his hand around the front of Will’s face and pressed two digits between the man’s lips, ignoring the confused sound erupting against his skin.
He let out a soft shushing sound, littering a series of small kisses across the back of Will’s shoulder. “That’s the evidence of my devotion, dear Will. Let your tongue savour it, I want your taste buds to immortalise the flavour of my love for you. Let it find home in your memories, let it– god–”
Hannibal’s innate drive to wax poetic was interrupted by the rapidly mounting pleasure that was sending little sparks throughout his body, which was only increased by the unexpected sensation of Will biting down on his fingers. It wasn’t quite hard enough to hurt, but that didn’t stop Hannibal from increasing the pressure himself, feeling the hard curves and jagged edges of Will’s teeth as his thrusts became far less tender.
Each soft little grunt that Will exerted as he gripped Hannibal’s fingers in his mouth caused the psychiatrist to thrust that much harder, encouraged by the way that Will had started to push back against him, trying to time each movement so that their hips slammed together in a cacophony of absolute euphoria.
Hannibal was vaguely aware that this would not be a long lovemaking session, as he was reaching his peak almost embarrassingly quickly, but he was far too lost in the thrill to care. What he may have lacked in stamina in that moment, he made up for in sheer ferocity, roughly fucking Will with reckless abandon.
What tipped him over the edge was a deliriously broken whine that reverberated against his fingers, followed by Will clamping down on them as his muscles flexed and clenched around Hannibal’s cock, causing the Lithuanian to release a series of short, shocked gasps as his orgasm was practically torn from him by Will’s perfect body.
Whilst still half-blissed out and not entirely aware of his surroundings, Hannibal took a few shaky breaths as he gingerly shifted against the mattress to withdraw his still slightly throbbing cock from Will’s body. He carefully pried his gnawed-upon hand from Will’s mouth to reach clumsily beneath the covers and gather some of the warm semen leaking from Will’s battered cunt, and proceeded to rub it across his beautiful, swollen little erection.
He couldn’t help but smile lazily as he felt Will gasp with a jolt, his hand working relentlessly to coax more sounds from his boy. It didn’t take long before Will was twitching and throbbing against the quickly stroking pads of his fingers, his hips moving restlessly as Hannibal brought him to a panting, shuddering climax.
For a while afterwards, they both just laid there, overheated and sticky against bedding that Hannibal was secretly planning to throw out in the trash and replace with nicer fabric as soon as Will was at work. His arm found its way around Will’s middle, pulling their bodies close together, ignoring Will’s small, sleepy noises of protest at being drowned in excessive warmth.
Eventually, Hannibal murmured softly, “Thank you for allowing me to be your first.”
Will didn’t respond immediately, though he placed a hand on Hannibal’s forearm. “I trust you, Hannibal,” he said finally. “Like I’ve never trusted anyone. I have this feeling that I’m not supposed to, God knows what we’re doing is insanely unethical, Jack Crawford would kill me if he found out, but… Hannibal.”
“Yes, Will?”
“...You said that you love me. Sort of.”
Hannibal tensed slightly. “I do believe that, perhaps against both of our better judgments, that what I feel for you is… Love, yes.” He heard Will draw in a slow, deep breath, but, before he could say another word, Hannibal quickly interjected. “And once we are out of bed, I shall make you breakfast, and you shall drink that rancid coffee, and then we can talk about it. I have some other matters that I would like to address with you as well.”
He felt Will stiffen a little, but then the brunette’s fingers gently clutched his forearm, and he saw those soft curls move as he nodded his head against the pillow. “...Okay.”
“Okay.”
For the first time in many years, perhaps decades, Hannibal felt… Nervous.