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Summary
Still on his knees in of where Hannibal is seated, Will folds his arms and sighs.
“You weren’t joking, were you?” he says, looking up and idly wiping over his mouth with the back of his hand.
Hannibal came in Will’s mouth about ten seconds ago, as fast as he ever has, and desperate and hot and so good his legs shook under him, and Hannibal is still hard.