Work Text:
"I think you should pick out a safeword."
Hannibal pauses, cream halfway to his coffee. Will is hovering awkwardly in Hannibal's space, watching him with an anxious sort of energy. "Do you?"
Will nods. "If we keep going like this, that is."
He frowns, giving the idea some consideration. He stirs the cream into his cup, watching the dark coffee lighten into something more to his tastes.
"Do you want to?" The other man prods, not content to let the silence lie. "Keep going?"
"Of course," he says easily. "I've told you before, my love. I enjoy exploring this side of you. But I don't think a safeword is necessary. We haven't needed one in the past."
"That may be true. But I would feel better if we had one, moving forward."
Hannibal turns on him, then. Narrows his eyes. Will is holding his own coffee in both hands, nursing the nearly-black liquid. He's blushing a little.
Hannibal smirks.
"Wicked thing, what are you planning?"
Will breathes out a soft laugh. "It's... different, from what we've done before, let's say that. Still intense, but in a different way. I don't want to hurt you."
He cocks a brow. "Look me in the eye and say that, then."
Blue eyes flick up to meet his own. Beautiful. "I don't want to hurt you in a way your masochistic ass won't enjoy, how's that?"
Hannibal chuckles. "Better."
Will snorts, leaning back against the counter and taking a long drink of his coffee.
"I won't need a safeword, regardless."
He rolls his eyes. "Don't use it, then. But give me a word."
Hannibal comes close, trapping Will against the counter to loom over him. "I want anything you choose to give me, Will. Anything."
Will's answer is a shuddering sigh. The words appeal to his dominant side and the effect is clear in the way his breathing falters. Hannibal feels his own pulse elevate in anticipation. His lips curl into a devilish grin.
His lover has so many fantasies. Varied and vivid, Hannibal always takes delight in realizing them. In seeing his Will revel in such selfish, blind pursuit of pleasure.
"Why would I need a safeword, Will?" He asks, delighting in how Will's flush deepens in response to his teasing tone. '"Are you expecting me to beg you to stop? To be unable to fight back? Completely, entirely at your mercy?"
Will all but growls, and when he looks up at Hannibal his pupils are significantly more dilated than before. "Ideally, yes."
-
The list of things that Hannibal adores about Will Graham could stretch so far that one could walk to the heavens along its lines. Among them is Will's patience. If a plan demands it of him, he will circle, and stalk, and bide his time for as long as it takes. It's a tool that can be used every bit as much for cruelty as it can for pleasure. Those two overlap more and more within Will as time passes.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, depending on one's perspective— Will's patience often wears thin, too. And Hannibal may love his patience, but he appreciates his impatience just as much.
It's after a night out two weeks later that Will makes his move. Dressed like a figure from Hannibal's most thrilling dreams, cut in hard lines of charcoal grey, Will leads Hannibal to their bedroom without a word.
It's his posture that gives Will away. The subtle shift in his body language that tells Hannibal his lover is craving power. Will's words play in his mind like a mounting chorus, nearing an almost deafening crescendo. 'Intense', he'd called it. Intense but different. The brief glimpses into Will's mind that he's seen in the past only serve to whet Hannibal's ever-voracious appetite, and his heart is already skipping by the time Will is kicking off his shoes.
Will sits on the bed, beckoning him mischievously. And when he speaks, Hannibal's blood rushes downwards at the low, rough timbre.
"Come here, Hannibal."
It's familiar, by now. This tone, this stance. The simple, easily followed commands. And Hannibal, unable to say anything else, says
"Yes, Will."
Will's dark, proud smile is reward enough. He sits beside his lover, and Will regards him through lidded eyes.
"Kiss me."
They both recognize that those words are a permission, only masquerading as a command. Hannibal could stay in this bed for the fullness of time, Will would still never need to ask to be kissed.
Hannibal acquiesces immediately, Will's lips warm and supple against his own. Will wastes very little time in making his intentions clear, licking his way into Hannibal's mouth within seconds. When Hannibal reaches upwards to tangle his fingers in those lovely dark curls, though, Will gently takes him by the hands and guides his palms back to the bed. He's confused, intrigued, but he lets the act lie.
Will spends long moments indulging in his favorite vice. His tongue explores Hannibal's mouth as if he expects to find something new this time, tracing over teeth and sweeping behind lips. Hannibal returns with matching fervor, his cock growing hard under Will's ravenous attention. Again, he seeks to feel Will's body, and again he is denied. His attempt to palm at Will's cock is only met by Will repeating the gesture of taking Hannibal's hands and placing them flat on the bed.
Will lowers his head, breathing hot and damp against Hannibal's skin as he lavishes the space with wet kisses and loving bites. He doesn't pull away as he shrugs out of his jacket, or when he loosens his tie. Hannibal reaches out to begin unbuttoning Will's shirt, and like Christ before Peter he is thrice denied.
"Take your clothes off," Will nearly growls, pulling away to observe.
"Yes, Will."
The eye contact Will levels his way is enough to burn Hannibal alive. He leans back, languidly palming the sizeable bulge in his trousers as he watches Hannibal remove his shoes, his jacket, his tie.
"Give that to me," Will says, holding out a palm. Hannibal lifts a brow but obeys, placing the tie in Will's hand.
He'd expected that Will would begin undressing as well, but he hasn't moved an inch from his place. Still in his button-down and trousers, both of their ties in one hand and his clothed cock in the other.
When Hannibal is fully nude, his cock hard and on display, Will smiles. "Lie down. Nice and comfortable."
"Are you anticipating I'll be here for some time?" He prods, but moves to do as he's been told.
Will laughs. It's low. Mean. "We'll see," he says, merely because he doesn't want to give Hannibal the satisfaction of certainty. It's every bit as good as a 'yes', though.
As Hannibal is making himself comfortable, Will takes his own tie and holds its length out. "Be still for a second," he says, and gently wraps it over Hannibal's eyes, tying it in place with the efficiency of a lifetime fisherman.
Hannibal can't suppress his amusement. So, his Will would like him blinded for this experience? So be it. He shall be blind. It makes no difference, he has committed every detail of Will to his mind, regardless. Can see him without sight, such is the depth of his love.
"Give me your hands."
He offers them, and Will wraps them in Hannibal's tie, by the wrists. Hannibal tugs at the bind, mainly just to test their strength. Not so tight that Hannibal couldn't escape, though it would be a small thing to rip the fabric either way.
"Arms up, baby. Over your head, that's it."
He smiles to himself. Will is generous with endearments, when Hannibal makes himself vulnerable like this. It appeals to his instincts to nurture, perhaps. Hannibal lies at Will's feet, and in reply Will praises him like a dog.
The weight of Will's gaze is heavy on his sternum. Will is staring.
"Comfy?" he prods.
"Very, though I do wonder how long that will last."
Will chuckles, and the sound of rustling fabric reaches Hannibal's ears. He's fiddling with something.
He feels bereft when Will's weight leaves their bed, though he can tell that Will hasn't left the room. Hannibal's sense of Proprioception had extended to his lover, recognizing Will as part of the Self as much as any other piece of Hannibal. Will is near their dresser. Fetching something, most likely.
After a minute or two, Will settles back on the bed, his still-clothed thighs straddling Hannibal's leg. Hannibal startles a bit when he feels the first drag of smooth leather over his cheekbone. Gloves. Will is wearing leather gloves.
Interesting.
"How's that feel?" Will asks, the tips of his fingers tracing their way down Hannibal's cheek.
Hannibal lets out a pleased hum, and when the touch sweeps along the swell of his lower lip he bites lightly, nipping at Will's fingertip.
Will's resulting laugh is nothing more than a puff of air, but it still warms Hannibal. His touch moves gradually over Hannibal's throat, and he can almost see the shape of Will's smirk when his muscles tense. Waiting for Will to close his strong hands around Hannibal's windpipe, to crush the air from him and leave him gasping.
He doesn't, though, merely continues his teasing descent along the length of Hannibal's body. He twitches when Will caresses the fragile flesh of his inner thighs.
"Legs bent, knees apart."
"Yes, Will."
The sensation of being watched is almost embarrassingly arousing. Unable to see his expression but still acutely aware that Will is staring at Hannibal's hole, his own breath hitching as he waits for sensation.
Nothing, for a moment.
His chest rises and falls, anticipation making his heart race, his blood pulse, his cock throb.
He waits.
The bed shifts, just slightly. Just enough to show that Will has shifted his weight. Sitting back. Biding his time.
Patient.
"...Will?"
"Hm?"
Hannibal swallows. "Are you going to touch me?"
Will's voice is horribly casual when he answers, seemingly unaffected.
"Eventually."
Oh, he's wicked.
"This is a much more calculated approach than your usual fair, Will," he notes. "It speaks to deeper sadism than more primal styles of domination."
Hannibal jumps at the sudden sensation of cold, wet silicone against his hole. The head of the toy is small, slick where Will rubs it slowly over his entrance.
"You like it, then?" he teases.
It breeches Hannibal with minimal discomfort, the toy barely wider than a finger where it enters him. Still, it takes him a moment to respond.
"I fail to see why you were so apprehensive about the idea."
Another dark chuckle. "That's because we're just getting started."
He's still as Will fucks him with the toy, legs obediently spread all the while. The excitement of being at Will's mercy has him more affected by the stimulation than he normally would be, though, and in a matter of minutes his cock is drooling against his stomach, his hips rocking to seek more stimulation.
"Stop that," Will says, and it's harsh but there's an undercurrent of tenderness buried beneath, like Will has only Hannibal's best interest in mind.
Hannibal takes a shuddering breath. "Y-yes, Will."
He sighs when Will removes the toy, before it's swiftly replaced with a larger form seeking entry. More plastic. Hannibal huffs before he can think better of it, and Will pulls the dildo abruptly away.
"Am I boring you?" He challenges, and Hannibal shudders at the edge in his lover's voice.
"I'd like it if you used your hands," he confesses, cheeks warm.
"I'm sure you would," Will replies, and presses the dildo inside.
"Will."
The stretch is enough to make Hannibal's cock jump, leaking precome near constantly as Will takes him. He's gradual, but insistent. Demanding, not punishing. It's dizzying. Every time he thrusts the toy, it drags over Hannibal's prostate, pulling low groans from his throat.
He's close, despite the nearly hateful detachment of Will's affection. He hasn't been touched by Will's skin since he began to undress, hasn't felt his lover's flesh against his own, and it makes the pleasure of his nearing orgasm feel empty.
Hannibal's thighs tense, wondering if he should speak. If Will wants to be warned or if Hannibal coming is part of his plan as much as everything else.
"Will, darling," he moans when the pleasure becomes too great. "I'm close, beloved, I— Will, please."
Will stops. The air turns thicker, Hannibal feels it settling over his skin like a sheet. Close, suffocating, hot. He removes the dildo, leaving Hannibal to clench around nothing. He takes Hannibal by the jaw, leather uncomfortable against his flushed, sweat-damp skin.
"Say that again," he whispers, and Hannibal's toes curl.
"Please," Hannibal rasps.
Will's gloved thumb grazes over his cheek.
"Again."
"Please."
Pressure, feather-light over Hannibal's lower lip.
"One more."
The high sound that leaves his body is unfamiliar. "Ple—"
He's cut off by two leather-wrapped fingers plunging deep into his mouth. Lost and desperate, Hannibal wraps his lips around the digits, suckling on them and running his tongue over the smooth material. His hips buck, searching for friction and finding none. His mind feels light, his thoughts melting away. The only things that exist are himself, and Will, and the need deep within his core.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Will whispers, and Hannibal nearly comes. He can't speak around the fingers in his mouth, so he nods desperately.
Will rubs the slick saliva over Hannibal's nipples, circling the buds with warm, wet leather and making Hannibal's lashes flutter behind the blindfold.
"Ask nicely, baby."
Hannibal licks his lips, his mind struggling to comply. "Please let me fuck you, Will. I need to be inside of you, I need to feel you, darling. Please."
Will caresses Hannibal's cheek one last time, and then he's off the bed. Needy and eager, Hannibal tilts his head to listen as he hears the telltale sound of fabric on skin. Will is stripping. Finally.
The idea of touching Will's skin is heady, and it's at that moment that Hannibal realizes what Will had meant, before. This is different from their past experiments. And yet, in some ways it is the same.
Consumption. That is what excites Will more than anything else. Consumption, and being consumed. They'd explored the concept mainly in the physical sense, until this point, but he saw now that this was a Consumption as well. A complete and total devouring of Hannibal's mind.
Will wants Hannibal to be so needy, so unbearably desperate for him, that Will becomes the only thing that exists in the entire world.
It's an easier goal, Hannibal thinks, than Will realizes.
"You want to know a secret?" Will asks, settling on the bed again, woefully beyond Hannibal's reach.
"What is it?"
When Will speaks again, it's a playful whisper, tantalizingly close to Hannibal's ear.
"I've had a plug inside me. All night."
Hannibal groans, throwing his head back against the pillows in something very near defeat. He'd noticed, of course, how strangely Will had been behaving tonight. How he blushed and shifted in his seat from time to time. Naively, Hannibal had attributed it to nerves. But no, his Will had been preparing himself for this. Laying out the beginnings of his design, hidden in plain sight.
What a magnificent boy.
Will sounds terribly amused by Hannibal's reaction. "I didn't want to make you wait for me," he explains, and then Hannibal hears a sound that pulls an actual whimper from him. Wet, noisy in the near-silence. It's accompanied by a breathy sigh on Will's part, and Hannibal bites his lip. The plug being removed, his mind supplies a few moments too late.
"Are you ready to get inside me, darlin'?"
Another tight groan leaves Hannibal. "Yes, Will, yes."
There is nothing for a long stretch of moments, anticipation diving him mad as he patiently waits for Will to finally touch him. He finds himself counting the seconds, squirming restlessly, just to inspire the feeling of fabric against hot flesh.
When he does at last find sensation, it's something that he can't seem to parse.
"I got you a present," Will says, detecting his confusion. "Just for tonight."
Hannibal shivers at the feel of slick plastic suddenly surrounding his cock. It doesn't squeeze, doesn't buzz or move like he'd been hoping. It only holds his length, nothing more. He shifts as Will fixes the toy in place, then outright moans when his lover's strong thighs are touching his own.
His body squirms of its own accord, seeking more contact between Will and himself. He luxuriates in the feeling of Will's warmth where he straddles Hannibal's hips, starved for his touch.
The sound of more lube being pumped from the bottle, the shocking chill of cold liquid dripping into his public hair, and then Will is shifting. Back and forth, near teasing.
Will hums salaciously, rubbing against the sheath. "Mm, I've been dying to get you inside me all night, baby. You'll fuck me real good, won't you? You always do."
And then Will shifts again, his body sinking gradually. Hannibal can almost feel Will through the sheath, tight but yielding as he seats himself with hitching gasps.
Almost.
Hannibal growls in frustration, hips twitching as Will adjusts to the new intrusion. This... this is torture. It's unbearable. He's inside of Will, his cock buried deep within him, and yet Hannibal is being deprived of the sensation. He can feel pressure around the infernal accessory, but none of Will's warmth or the wet tightness of his hole.
It's only when Will laughs, another one of his sadistic little chuckles, that Hannibal realizes he's practically hyperventilating.
"Wishing you'd given me a safeword now?" He teases, rolling his hips with a satisfied groan. "Too late, I'm afraid. You're just gonna have to lie there and take it."
Unable to stop himself from chasing sensation, however fruitless that pursuit may be, Hannibal thrusts upwards. It startles a pleased sound from Will, makes him bounce a bit harder on Hannibal's cock. Oh, that sound. He'd move heaven and earth for the mouth that forms that sound.
He begins fucking into Will with as much grace as he can manage, given his current circumstances. Will leans back, his gloved hands bracing themselves on Hannibal's thighs as he meets the rhythm.
"Oh, yeah," Will grunts, picking up the pace. "That's it. That's my good boy, just like that."
Hannibal grits his teeth. He plants his feet on the bed, finding enough leverage to send Will careening forward.
Will catches himself on his palms, forcing distance before Hannibal can feel the sweet sensation of Will's body flush to his own.
"Nice try," Will huffs, and the next moment there are leather-clad fingers around his throat.
Hannibal leans into the pressure, groaning as Will tightens his fingers. Will's motions are relentless, now, his hips slamming into Hannibal with every drop of his body. Hannibal tries to match the thrusts, to please Will, but the squeeze around his windpipe makes it feel nearly impossible. His body jerks, lips parted as he fights for breath. His cock oozes and throbs within his silicone prison, and the need to feel becomes nothing short of maddening.
"Fuck, oh god, Hannibal, baby— I'm gonna cum, darlin', fu-uck!"
Hannibal tips his head back, exposing his throat to Will even as his mind begins to feel foggy around the edges. He can't speak, likely couldn't speak even if he could breathe, but he mouths a single word, again and again.
'Please. Please, please.'
Will releases his throat at the exact moment that his come splashes over Hannibal's heaving chest. Hannibal arches his back, moaning raggedly with the euphoria of breath. His heart is pounding, his entire body sensitive and desperate. Will grinds on the toy for a few more moments, riding out his orgasm as he pants in Hannibal's lap.
Hannibal shivers when Will's fingers drag through the come on his stomach, bringing them swiftly to Hannibal's parted lips. With a soft whine, Hannibal wraps his lips once more around the leather, sucking and licking the come away with a litany of appreciative groans.
He offers Hannibal a firm pat to his thigh, and then Will is clambering out of the bed, Hannibal still gasping for air and more aroused than ever. The air whistles in and out of his nose, his hands straining against the tie around his wrists. It's worse than merely feeling bereft, this time. Even though he assumes Will is only a matter of feet away, he feels close to panicking. Will has unraveled him down to a single thread, a fragile creature who fears being left alone in the dark.
It's nothing short of rapturous when the tip of one warm, delicate finger traces over Hannibal's cheekbone. He melts into the touch, feasting after being without for so long.
"Will," he whispers, shivering when soft skin grazes his jaw. He feels a tear fall from his eye, wetting the fabric that blinds him.
Another wonderfully tender palm runs through the hair on Hannibal's chest, and he sighs softly.
"Shh..." Will says, horribly gentle in the wake of so much denial. "That's it. You did good, Hannibal. You did so good."
The touch is constant as Will moves his hand down to Hannibal's pelvis, slowly removing the sheath and exposing Hannibal's aching, sensitive cock to the air.
Both of them groan when the toy is gone, Hannibal trying hard to avoid grinding into nothing.
He sucks in a harsh, wet gasp when Will runs his fingertips along the length, from the tip down to the base and up again.
"Will," he whines, seeking more sensation. "Will, please. Touch me, beloved, please—"
Will silences him with a kiss. Hannibal almost comes the moment their lips meet, so overwhelmed by even the most chaste affection. He whimpers into Will's mouth, parting his lips for his lover's tongue. It's nearly shameful, how needy he must seem. Will above him, loving and tender, and Hannibal a feral animal beneath.
Will's hands skate back up his shivering form, ghosting up the length of Hannibal's arms until he reaches his bound wrists. Hannibal tenses from head to toe, spurring Will on with soft encouraging sounds. They're still kissing sloppily when Will pulls the knot free, his hands now blessedly unbound.
Hannibal closes around Will like a bear trap the very next moment. His arms weave around Will's back, holding him close enough to squeeze the breath from his lungs. Hannibal's hands are frantic as he indulges in the feel of Will's skin— nails dragging down his back, the pads of his fingers digging into his thighs, palms kneading and spreading his ass.
Will laughs into Hannibal's mouth, tangling his fingers into his hair as he runs his tongue over Hannibal's teeth. With a growl, Hannibal rolls the both of them, pushing the tie back from his eyes as he settles above Will.
He feels tears come to his eyes once more.
Will is, and always will be, the most breathtaking sight Hannibal has ever bore witness to. He's like a vision from a dream, lying beneath Hannibal with his curls in disarray and his blue eyes wide and happy. He bites his kiss-swollen lip, looking Hannibal in the eye with obvious excitement. Anticipation.
Ah, clever boy— this has been his plan all along. To bring Hannibal to the brink of despair and back again, killing and resurrecting him in minutes rather than days. And now, if the way he tips his head back and regards Hannibal with lidded eyes is any evidence, he's hoping that Hannibal will respond with a passion so strong that it edges on aggression.
Will is cruel. He is villainous. He is correct.
Hannibal dives down for one last feral kiss, hefting Will's leg over his own shoulder and immediately taking him by the hips. It's nearly too much when he fucks into Will. When he at last feels the tight, wet warmth, finally sees how Will's lashes flutter and his lips part upon being filled. Hannibal's fist twists in the sheets, groaning low as he begins to pound into Will.
"Oh— Oh my God, Hannibal!"
Hannibal snarls possessively, hips slamming into Will as he inelegantly chases his release. He collapses against Will, his lover's leg hooking around his waist and tugging him closer, closer.
"F-Fuck, come on, darlin'. Give it to me."
His thrusts only grow more erratic, his forehead falling to rest against Will's shoulder. His mind is flooded with Will— his scent, all sweat and sea air, the sound of his breathy moans, the taste of him—
Unbidden, he takes his teeth to Will's shoulder. Memories soar to the surface— of Will's blood filling his mouth, the feeling of Will's flesh in his own stomach. Consumption.
"Do it," Will grunts, and Hannibal hesitates. His muscles tense, his pleasure mounts. Will's fingers grip Hannibal's hair, pressing him closer.
"Do it, Hannibal— fuck. Eat me, baby, eat me."
Hannibal's pupils blow when his teeth sink into Will's shoulder. The wine comes first, and then the bread, as it should be. His sacrament sits blissfully on his tongue, hot and red and decadent. His orgasm washes over him as a small piece of Will tears from his body, gratefully accepted and savored by Hannibal's own. His eyes are closed in ecstasy as he swallows, moaning raggedly and licking the blood from his lips as he spills into his lover, his deity, his universe. Existence has shrank, his ears a holy congregation singing 'Will, Will, Will'.
His lips seal around the wound, lapping at the blood that oozes forth so as not to waste a single precious drop. This. This is his raison d'être. He could never imagine a purpose higher, more noble than this one. To serve at Will's feet, and suffer at his hand, and find nourishment in the endless banquet of his body.
Will laughs, a divine sound, his breaths deep and heaving as he pets Hannibal's hair. The hymn of his words meets Hannibal through his haze, finding him where he clings to Will's bite like a nursing babe.
"One of these days, you're finally going to snap, and there'll be nothing left of me."
Hannibal hums, licking flatly over the bite. It's deeper than the last one, and he laments his carelessness. "I suspect you're capable of the same, my love," he coos. "But rest assured, I haven't any plans of devouring you whole. I'd miss your company far too much for that."
Will sighs, melting into their bed with a soft smile. "When I'm dead, then?"
Hannibal smirks, ducking to collect more of Will's blood on his tongue only to crash their mouths together. Will shivers, licking his way into Hannibal's mouth and taking his fill of himself. He smiles up at Hannibal when they part, drunk once more on the Wine of Life.
"Perhaps," Hannibal concedes. "But I'd prefer to savor you, for as long as possible."
Will's grin turns lopsided. "One mouthful at a time?"
"Only enough to wet my lips," he swears, and kisses Will again.
His lover lifts a teasing brow, his features angelic and his mouth bloodstained. "Hannibal Lecter, showing restraint?" he quips, and Hannibal feels his heart skip. Never has there ever been a man so besotted, of that he is sure.
"For you," he whispers. "Exclusively, and entirely for you, Will. Yes."