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They’ve been fucking for a week now, and Will is already exasperated. Their encounters have been suspiciously slow and gentle, and Will can’t believe Hannibal really wants it that way; he must be holding back on him. Considering Hannibal first reached out to him by complimenting his strengths, he’s treating Will too much like a damn china teacup.
He’s supposed to meet Hannibal in his house tonight. Lie down on his back on the red silk sheets while Hannibal kisses him softly, mouth barely pressing into the skin, slippery fingers carefully working him open to prepare him for Hannibal’s gentle thrusts. The last few times it left him eventually panting and spent but still frustrated, waiting for something exciting that entirely failed to happen. Never again, Will tells himself. He’ll have to change it up somehow.
He thinks of a method right before he leaves, grabbing the inoffensive jar decisively, wondering vaguely if he’ll ever be able to look at its innocent countenance again after this. It’ll be worth it though, if it works. He tucks the jar into his coat pocket and sets out.
Hannibal is waiting for him, still impeccably dressed in a three piece suit even though he knows he’ll be getting right out of it and could just have worn a bathrobe to save time. The man really is a peacock. He shows Will into the kitchen, ever the courteous host, insistent on making Will a cup of tea before they get down to it. That’s one of the ways you can tell the class difference, Will thinks. I think we could just get to the sex already.
Will smiles at the thought, and starts taking off his clothes, draping his coat carefully across the back of a chair and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Are you feeling impatient, Will?” Hannibal asks, filling the kettle with water and placing it on the stove. “We could go to the bedroom sooner, if you insist.”
“Oh no, this is fine,” Will replies. He tosses his shirt on the chair. “Keep on doing what you’re doing.” His undershirt quickly follows after he pulls it over his head. Hannibal is watching him curiously, not moving to turn on the stove or get the tea fixings, his fingertips just resting on the counter. Will eyes them as he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers, considering the possibilities.
Now standing stark naked in front of Hannibal, Will reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the honey bear jar. He sees Hannibal’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly as Will upends the jar and pours the sticky-sweet honey all over his chest, stomach, and back, letting it run down his skin to his groin, feeling it catch in the crack of his ass as he steps forward. Will takes Hannibal’s right hand off the counter and dips the other man’s fingertips into the mess on his stomach. He takes the man’s fingers into his mouth, sucks, and then bites down softly, looking directly into Hannibal’s eyes for just a moment.
Hannibal’s breath catches. Suddenly Will’s mouth is empty, a hand is on his throat, another on his back, and a leg hooked behind his drops him to the floor. Hannibal crouches over him, eyes trailing hungrily down his torso. He drops his head to Will’s chest and licks away a stripe of the honey. Unlike his previous kisses, there’s nothing light about this. His tongue rasps across Will’s skin, and then his lips and teeth close around him and sink in deeply.
Will yelps in surprise at the unexpected pain. The noise turns into a groan when Hannibal looks up at him, lips reddened, cheeks smeared with honey, a feral look on his usually impassive face. Will had wanted something different; well, now he has it. The thought that maybe he should have been more careful in his wishing occurs to him.
Hannibal turns back down to Will’s chest and licks up towards his neck, biting down every few inches hard enough to bruise. Will squirms at first, and tries to use his arms to control the pressure of the bites, but Hannibal grabs both his wrists in one hand and continues. It’s amazing how strong he is; Will’s arms are completely immobilized and there’s nothing he can do. Hannibal extricates his teeth from the flesh of Will’s throat and trails his tongue up the curve of his ear. He leans his body firmly into Will’s, pressing him into the hard floorboards, grinding honey into the expensive fabric of the suit that he’s still wearing.
“Add peppercorns and cumin and you would be ready for the oven.” Hannibal is practically purring in his ear. “Cover you in your own juices and leave you to roast until you melt in my mouth in bliss.” A light bite on his earlobe before Hannibal’s teeth work their way down his jaw, and then Will’s lips are caught in a violent kiss, a honey-sweetened tongue forcing itself into his mouth.
Will catches his breath as Hannibal draws back. “You do know I’m not actually food, right?” He tries to joke, panting. His chest is sore, his nerves are singing, and he can feel Hannibal’s erection pressing into his own through the layers of fabric.
Hannibal smiles. “That as it may be, I rather enjoy the idea of you trussed up and covered in your own juices.” His free hand moves up to stroke Will’s cock. “And I do quite enjoy the feel of you in my mouth.” He lets go of Will’s wrists to shift downward, and licks a trickle of honey up Will’s inner thigh. Still stroking, he bites down on the sensitive skin hard enough that Will is unable to stop himself from crying out and reaching down to grab at Hannibal’s hair. Hannibal’s head emerges, and the honey around his mouth is mixed with the bright red of fresh blood. When Will doesn’t comment, those bloody lips close over the head of his cock, sucking off the honey. Panicking slightly at the thought of teeth in such a delicate area, Will tries to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go and he just ends up bucking into Hannibal’s mouth. There’s no biting, and the sensation is glorious, but Hannibal soon moves away, leaving Will rock hard and leaking. Small moans Will can’t seem to control escape his lips.
Hannibal moves, and Will finds himself manhandled again, hoisted up off the floor by his hair and his elbow, and slammed face down on the table. The wind is knocked out of him, and his face is firmly pressed into the table, but he can hear the sound of a belt buckle coming undone behind him. Thick fingers collect the honey gathered along the curve of his backside and force themselves into his asshole, stretching him roughly. A minute later they are replaced as Hannibal thrusts violently into him. Hannibal moves his hand from Will’s hair to Will’s throat as he fucks him, pulling Will’s shoulder into the reach of his mouth, biting hard enough to draw blood again. Will can feel the roughness of his tongue licking at the mark. The force of the hand keeping Will upright is half-choking him, but it’s all he can do to keep himself stable as Hannibal drives into him again and again. The honey doesn’t work very well as lube, and the mounting pain in his asshole complements the pain of the bites, but Hannibal keeps going, ignoring Will’s strangled whimpers. He only thrusts harder as Will squirms to try and relieve the pressure on his throat, slamming Will’s pelvis into the edge of the table with each push.
Finally Hannibal presses all the way in and stops, dropping Will back onto the table and sagging over him as he comes. His hand sneaks around and pulls roughly at Will’s still hard cock until Will comes too with a groan, spilling out onto the honey-covered floor. Will’s throat feels raw and he aches all over, the singular areas of pain melting together into full-body agony.
Hannibal steps back, leaving Will slumped against the table, and looks down with vague regret at his ruined clothing. “Well, was that what you wanted when you started this, Will?”
Will looks up at him distractedly from where he’s half-collapsed in pain and exhaustion, still bent over the table. “You know, I actually think it was.”
It’s true. It was way better than being a fucking teacup.