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Chapter Text

Will paced the floor of the office incessantly. Hannibal rested against his desk, watching him with true concern laced with intent. 

Will’s right middle finger was planted in the tip of his mouth. He gnawed on the already too-short nail, lost in a forest of thought.

"I still have the coppery scent of blood on my hands," He whispered. 

Hannibal tilted his head. He had never seen him like this. Accompanying his concern, Hannibal had an almost unignorable urge to lean in closer. He yearned to reach out, to touch the man. Just to know that what was in front of him was real. Not just the result of his wild imagination.

"I can't remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her." Will confessed, shaking his head. 

"Those memories sank out of sight. Still, you're aware of their absence." 

"They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they're supposed to be."

Hannibal felt out of place. An odd feeling, it was. He felt like Will wasn't speaking to him. He was speaking purely to himself, attempting to make sense of the situation on his own. Hannibal shifted in his seat on the desk, silently expecting him to continue.

"There's a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I know to be true."

"What do you know to be true, Will?" Hannibal crossed his arms. The fabric of his dress shirt pulled taught over his biceps. 

"I know I didn't kill her," Will mumbled. Finally, he removed the finger from his mouth to make a gesture. "I couldn't have."

"But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die." He confessed. Will felt a pang of disgust reverberate in his abdomen. 

A small sigh escaped from Hannibal's lips. He stood up off of the desk. He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and took a small step towards Will.

"You must overcome these delusions, Will. They are disguising your reality."

A beat of silence filled the room before he went on.

"What savage delusions does this killer have?" Hannibal prodded. His gaze swept across the man's form. There was a damp spot on the cuff of Will's sleeve. Tears? Or the water he used to pull himself back to reality? 

"It wasn't savage." Will iterated. Hannibal noticed a defensiveness in him. Will stopped pacing for a moment, then started up again. 

"It was desperate. Lonely." 

Hannibal took a breath. He felt the air fill his lungs and stomach. 

"Are you lonely, Will?" 

Will avoided the question as subtley as he could. However, the sharp rise in his chest and shoulders gave him away.

Will placed his hand on the ladder that rested against the bookshelf. Desperately trying to grasp something concrete. Something he knew wouldn't allow him to fall deeper.

"I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror," Will cleared his throat to go on. "I looked right through me, past me. Like I was just a stranger."

Wills voice faltered on every word of his sentence. He could feel the knot in his throat, tying his limbs up and preventing his words from passing smoothly.

Hannibal stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Will. He could smell the sweet scent of sweat and iron, but something else accompanied it. 

Hannibal gingerly placed his hands on Will's vest. Will inhaled sharply. His eyes searched Hannibal's face for any sort of a tell. What the hell was he doing? 

Pitifully, Will felt too weak to stop him. 

Hannibal pushed Will lightly into the ladder, forcing the man to reach out and grasp him. The silky feeling of Will's vest kissed his hands and kept Hannibal enveloped in the moment. 

Will's breathing came faster. His eyes ping-ponged between Hannibal's. His lips were permanently parted as if in an expression of surprise.

Hannibals right hand slipped lower down Will's abdomen. As he spoke, he fiddled with the buttons of Will's dress shirt. 

Will felt the heat of him. Hannibal's hands felt like a heating pad on his stomach. He wondered if his panicked mind was exaggerating it, or if Hannibal was simply always that feverish.

Will couldn't not for the life of him make out what Hannibal was saying. He caught the words confront and limitations in the sentence that felt as long as a lifetime.

A bead of sweat rolled down Will's temple. What time was it?

Why was this simple act of affection-- Was it affection? undoing him completely like this? 

Will waded out of his fevered daze. 

"Hannibal," The name fell from his lips like water from a faucet. 

Hannibal looked up from the buttons. His eyebrows raising slightly in expression of something. Was it anticipation? Was it worry?

Will brought his left hand to his forehead and swiped off the collecting sweat. He cleared his throat before attempting to speak.

"What are you- What are you doing?" 

Hannibal pursed his lips. Will noticed the ghost of a smirk lifting up the corner of his pouty pink mouth. 

"Nothing you haven't been begging for in your mind since our first session." The Doctor responded in a sultry manner.

His calloused hands ran lower, gripping Will's waist. His tucked-in shirt had become undone and was riddled with wrinkles. 

Will arched into the ladder, the hardness of the wood digged into his back, forcing him to cry out.

Hannibal leaned in more, if that was even possible. He nuzzled his nose against Will's stubbled neck, taking in the full scent of him. 

The cleanly aftershave, the cedarwood and vanilla scented cologne, the lingering of dog hair, and most engulfing of all, the scent of his sickness.

Will bucked his hips against Hannibal's. As soon as he did it, he stopped himself. What the fuck was he doing? 

He felt Hannibal groan against his neck. He whispered something, however through the haze of desire it got lost in translation.

Hannibal placed an open-mouthed kiss right below Will's ear. As soon as his lips connected with the skin, Will seemed to come undone. 

Will whispered a curse beneath his breath. They came more frequently now, crashing like tidal waves in his belly. 

Will felt lightheaded. Whether it was from the heat of the moment or his previous distress, he could not even attempt to differentiate.

He snaked his hand up to the nape of Hannibal's neck and held him there. Hannibal made a noise of surprise. However, he only complied more ferverently.

Hannibal sucked Will. He tasted him. He relished in the feeling of stubble underneath his flat tounge. The soapy taste of Will's faded body wash melted in his mouth. It was a kiss of life. Like everything in both of their lives led solely to this moment.

Will groaned. His mouth hung open in a cry of pure and utter pleasure. He wanted to beg Hannibal to stop. Not to stop completely, but to get to the fucking point. 

Will curled his fingers in Hannibal's silvering hair and yanked him back. The man yelped with a closed mouth at the violence of it all. 

"I need you. Now." Will whispered, gulping and nodding his head like a madman. 

Hannibal smiled fully now. Pearly white teeth peeked through the pink valley's that were his lips.

He chuckled, it came out hoarse and deep at the same time.

"Impatient, are we?" Hannibal teased, trying to lean in again and work on the growing bruise on Will's pale neck.

Will stopped him. He tugged the man's hair, erupting a string of pained moans and scrunched brows. 

Will looked Hannibal square in the eye before placing both hands on his shoulders and forcing him down onto his knees.

Hannibal yelped, then chuckled lightly. He was enjoying this. The pain, the dominance. Will hadn't expected that.

Hannibal seemed to Will like a generous lover. His tall, broad build seemed perfect for holding people down. His arms strong and bitable, his plush lips shaped perfectly to fit between the lips of a woman. Or around the length of a man. 

Will's hands leapt to his belt loops. Hannibal watched him fuddle with the buckle. His gaze was  mocking. Will had the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up despite Hannibal not having said a word. 

Finally, Will unbuckled his belt. He pulled it completely out of his pants and brought it down hard against Hannibal's clothed back.  

The crack echoed through the room.

Hannibal cried out in pain. Pleasure? That smug smile of his hadn't left his lips. His bronze eyes were hazy and glossed over. He looked beautiful. 

Will leaned off of the ladder and held the belt in front of Hannibal. 

Hannibal looked up at him, puzzled. 

"Give me your wrists." Will commanded. 

Hannibal debated internally whether or not he wanted to. He wanted to hold out, to see how far Will would go. He hadn't expected Will Graham to be like...this. 

When he touched the vest moments ago, he had imagined himself turning Will around. Pushing his head into a step of the ladder and fucking him against it.

He had imagined Will's broken whimpers and moans. "Please" this, "Thank you Sir," that. He expected him to be a beggar, needy for praise and easily pushed into submission.

So this was a surprise. A pleasant one? Anything involving Will Graham was pleasant to him.

Will grabbed Hannibal's chin, forcing him out of his daydream to lock eyes with him. Hannibal moaned through pursed lips. He knew better than to be surprised now, but he couldn't help himself. 

"Did you hear me?" Will prodded, pulling and scratching the skin of his cheeks. 

Pain rumbled through Hannibal's face. It only made him so much harder. He nodded instinctively, bucking himself against Will's calf. 

Will leaned over him, pushing his calf between Hannibals legs. He could feel Hannibal's erection pushing against the fabric of his dresspants. He fought hard to keep from smiling.

"Then fucking do it." He spat. Hannibal swallowed and pushed both of his wrists out in front of Will. He heaved to catch his breath, licking his lips and resting his head against Will's thigh. 

"Good." Will whispered. He grabbed both of Hannibal's wrists and pulled them around his waist. Hannibal could hear the ruffling of clothing and the clinging of the belt buckle against the ladder. He didn't dare look up. He wanted to stay here forever.

"Hold the ladder," Will directed him. When Hannibal complied, he tied the belt around both of his cuffed wrists.

Hannibal's stomach flipped. He couldn't understand what Will was doing to him. He should've just pushed harder, got what he wanted. Now he was stuck. Literally. Well, he might as well have some fun.

Will unbuckled his brown pants and slid them down over his thighs. A wet spot of precum had soaked through his white boxers, making them see-through, almost translucent.

Hannibal was face to face with Will's dick. The wet spot made his mouth water. God, he wondered what he tasted like. He wanted to stick his tongue out and lap up Will's precum. He would suck him through the boxers if it came to it. 

Will pulled the boxers down over his ass and leaned against the ladder again, settling himself in a comfortable position. 

He gestured to Hannibal. Go on, it said. Hurry up.

Hannibal looked at Will. He was so utterly exposed to him. 

Will was larger than average. Hannibal had expected that. He was cut and pink at the tip, with a well-trimmed bush. Evidence suggested he had just shaved less than a week ago. Hannibal tried hard not to think about it. Was it for another woman? Another man? Fuck it, it doesn't matter.

Hannibal opened his mouth, revealing molars and tongue. Will shuddered, resisting the urge to slam into the doctor right there. 

Hannibal shifted on his knees and clutched the ladder.

He took the head into his mouth slowly. 

Will reacted immediately.

His hands sprang to the back of Hannibal's head. He didn't push him down despite the urge. His hands ghosted at the crown of Hannibal's head and his neck, shaking. Just close enough for Hannibal to know he was restricting himself.

Hannibal felt Will's precum ooze onto his tongue. It made his shoulders relax.

He bobbed his head slowly, looking up at Will through his eyebrows. He ran his tongue over the slit, circling his urethra and tracing the line that ran through the middle of his tip. 

Will was a whimpering mess. The ladder was the only thing keeping his knees from buckling and sending them both to the floor. 

Will cursed over and over. His knuckles were beginning to turn white with how hard he was clutching the legs of the ladder behind him. 

The pressure in Hannibal's pants was near torturous. Every once and a while he would grind against Will's calf as he took him deeper, but the friction was never, ever enough. 

Will whispered his status to Hannibal as a warning. He didn't want it to end yet. 

Hannibal relaxed his throat and took all of Will. He held him in his mouth, unmoving. Warming his cock as tears wet his cheeks. 

"Fuck- holy shit, Hannibal," Will moaned, his back arching up off of the ladder. He weakly thrusted into Hannibal's face, continuously burying Hannibal's nose into his prickling pubes. 

Saliva streamed down Hannibal's chin messily, but he couldn't wipe it away.

His wrists were beginning to blister. The crackling leather stung him, only adding to the tightness in his pants. 

In a moment of Will's distraction, Hannibal removed himself from Will's cock. 

Wills eyes shot open at the loss of contact, the coldness of the draft stark against the previous feeling of Hannibal's warmth. 

Hannibal swallowed, his eyes closed. Tears clumped his eyelashes together. Desire accentuated his faint freckles. 

"Han-" Will inhaled. "Hannibal, please." His voice cracked on the last word

Hannibal was surprised Will hadn't just taken matters into his own hands. Maybe he was scared. Maybe Hannibal had overestimated him. 

Maybe this wasn't a normal occurrence. Maybe the cunning, domineering Will he had just seen was brought out by something in himself. 

Hannibal kept his mouth shut, just watching him.

Watching Will squirm and plead and shake with desire.

"Fuck. Hannibal, please." Will whined.

His facial features contorted into pure agony. He could've easily stroked himself into completion, but he knew it wouldn't be nearly as pleasurable or warm as Hannibal's wet mouth.

Hannibal smirked. His cheeks were colored with a flush. Spit dried on his chin and neck, crackling in his childish smile. 

And then he stood up. 

Confusion laced Will's face. Hadn't he...? He could've sworn...

Hannibal held the belt in his right hand, rubbing his wrist with the other. 

"You're not too great at that, Will." He spoke. His voice still hoarse from the abuse. 

Will's mouth hung open. His cock was still rock hard. He needed to piss so fucking bad. He just realized it has been at least three hours since he had last relieved himself. 

Hannibal tossed Will's belt onto a chair and walked over to his own desk. 

"I've had my fair share of excursions," Hannibal continued on as if what just happened infact hadn't. 

"That puny belt." He chuckled beside himself. "Oh Will, did you really think?" 

Will still leaned against the ladder. His face began to heat with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak. Hannibal seemed to notice this.

"Ah, Ah, Ah." He cautioned. Hannibal opened a drawer and rummaged through it. Will could hear the sound of junk clashing against other pieces of junk.

The drawer was pushed back into the desk. He could hear the squeaking of Hannibal's loafers against the mahogany floor. 

Hannibal returned to the ladder and stooped down in front of Will once again. Will bucked instinctively, crying out, waiting for the anticipated release. 

But Hannibal didn't wrap his mouth around him again. He got into his knees and began unlacing Will's shoes. 

Will let him. 

He pulled off his left shoe first, then his right. Hannibal placed them together next to the ladder neatly. 

"Hannibal," Will croaked again but was quieted by Hannibal shushing him. 

Hannibal reached up to the waist of Will's trousers and boxers and pulled them down completely. 

"Give me your hands." Hannibal spoke, not looking up from his work. 

Will complied more quickly than Hannibal thought he would. And then he understood.

Will yearned for submission. He ached for directions to follow. Without them he was as lost as a stray puppy in mid-january winter. 

Hannibal placed Will's boxers and trousers in his outstretched hands. 

"Fold them." 

Will paused for a moment, then he complied. 

As Will was beginning to fold his pants, Hannibal took him into his mouth once again.

Will moaned loudly, his mouth open wide. He didn't hold himself back now. He thrusted into Hannibal's throat rhythmically. He had forgotten about the clothing in his hands, and Hannibal didn't wait to remind him. 

Will felt the cold breeze against his dick again. He could feel tears of frustration beginning to form in his eyes. He needed him so badly, he felt like he would die. 

"Fold the clothes, Will." Hannibal croaked, looking up at the pathetic man with an air of caution. 

Will nodded. 

"I will- I am. Please just fuck me, Hannibal." Will begged. 

Hannibal went down on him again. More violently this time. He wasn't as careful with his teeth. 

Will's cock ran against Hannibal's soft palette, subsequently slamming into his uvula. Hannibal barely reacted except for a watering of the eyes. 

Will hummed in relation to the thrusts. Everytime Hannibal came down on him again he moaned harder, louder. 

Will was a cursing, moaning, whimpering mess. 

Don't stop, he pleaded. Right here, I'm so fucking close.

"Faster," Will whispered just loud enough for the command to ring in Hannibal's ears. 

The music of the slapping, heaving, and gagging of Hannibal Lecter filled the room. It was accompanied by the rhythmic whines of Will on the precipice of orgasm.

Will struggled to fold the pants. He dropped the boxers on the floor in the action, but he focused on the task as hard as he could. 

He draped the pant legs over the waistband and folded it over again right before he plunged over the edge. 

Hannibal wrapped his swollen lips around the base of Will's cock as he came. Will's hips stuttered, thrusting irractically, fueled purely by the strength of his orgasm.

Hannibal swallowed the abundance of Will's warmth, thanking him for it silently. 

The room slowed down. The sounds of sex gradually reduced themselves to the sounds heavy breathing and the occasional gasp.

Will opened his eyes and peered down at Hannibal. Sticky and sweaty. Hannibal's hair stuck to his forehead.

Hannibal rested his head against the inside of Will's cool thigh. Mouth open, swallowing all the air he could get.

Their chests rose and fell in perfect synchro. A thought popped into Will's head then.

"Hannibal?"

"Hm?" 

"Did you come?" 

Hannibal chuckled lightly. 

"No, Will. I have not." 

"Do you want me to-" Will started. 

"Not yet," Hannibal whispered. Will stood against the ladder awkwardly, letting Hannibal rest against him for a moment. Hannibal mumbled something that Will didn't completely hear.

"What?" Will asked.

"I'm not done with you yet." Hannibal smiled, pressing a kiss against Will's hairy inner thigh. 

Chapter Text

They sat against the ladder for what felt like eternity. The cool air of Baltimore night against Will's skin made the hairs on his forearms prickle. His fingers itched. He longed to run them through the tufts of dusty blonde hair that tickled his bare thigh, but something stopped him. Hannibal hummed, the vibration of his throat startling against the silence of the office. Will jumped. For some reason, he had presumed the man to be asleep against him. Will looked down.

"You're thinking." Hannibal muttered, accent thick and cadence smooth like an aged bottle of whiskey. Will grunted.

"So are you."

Hannibal lifted his head. His hair stood up against his forehead, smiling. Hannibal rose from his knees and smoothed his suit-jacket beneath his palm. He clasped the button with swift fingers.

Will's eyes trailed the man as he stood, gaze catching on the slight swelling of his lips. As he looked him up and down, he noticed two things. One, that if he hadn't just witnessed the pure debauchery that had just taken place, he wouldn't even know it had happened. Hannibal looked rather put together for a man who just had cock down his throat. His suit was barely wrinkled, the pocket-square lay perfectly perched in his pocket--still folded in precise creases that resembled a flower petal. The only hint of any sort of dishevelment was the slight flush on his cheeks and the dampness of his lashes. And the second thing was, Hannibal was extremely attractive. He'd noticed it before of course, but the way he looked before him now made him feel a little startled and breathless.

"Will?" 

Will blinked, suddenly jutted out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat in an attempt to prevent himself from sounding childish. "Hm?"

Hannibal chuckled, a low rumbling sound deep in his chest. He shrugged, clasping his hands before his waist.

"I was just mentioning your tendency to deflect."

Will grunted, breaking eye contact to move his gaze to a nearby bookshelf. "Oh, yeah? Provide me with one example." 

Hannibal smiled, deigning to walk around the room slowly, like a wolf circling its prey. He hummed, tapping a calloused, manicured finger against the fabric draped over his thigh.

"Well, for example, when I had asked you about your mother last week." Will scoffed. "And when I asked how the act of orphaning Abigail Hobbs made you feel. 'How does that make you feel?' You had replied with." Hannibal mimicked Will cadence with frightening accuracy. His own accent dropped, replaced with a gruff American one dripping with condescension and sarcasm. Hell, he'd even gotten the clipped vowels consistent with Will holding his own accent back. 

Will crossed his arms before his chest, huffing. "Already back to psychoanalyzing me, Doctor? Has the taste of me on your tongue even faded yet?"

Hannibal grinned, glancing back at Will. He quirked a brow, clearly sensing an opening. "See? Weaponizing discomfort to discourage me from continuing." Will rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Unfortunately for you, I rarely experience discomfort."

"Really?" Will asked incredulously, face twisting into a clear expression of doubt. Hannibal nodded softly, running his fingers over the cuticles of his other hand. Will snorted. "You are a horrible liar, Doctor Lecter."

"No longer on a first name basis anymore, Will?" Hannibal teased.

"I had presumed we were back to a patient-psychiatrist dynamic based on the questions you've begun to ask. You're like a mosquito." Hannibal stilled, leaning against his desk. He tilted his head, lips pursing. 

"How so?"

Will locked onto his gaze once again, unwavering and vaguely accusatory. "You wait for an opening. You find the clearest, palest patch of skin right above the vein and bite. You latch before your victim can even feel the sting of your teeth. You're a pain in the ass. The place you bite itches and stays a reminder for days." Will rambled on, accentuating the tail-end of his words with an attempted bite. If Hannibal wasn't looking at the man with his flaccid cock perched between hairy thighs with his forearms crossed over his chest against his ladder, he might've taken him more seriously. 

"I thought you didn't like talking, Will." Will shrugs, smiling softly.

"I lied."

Hannibal swallows, throat clicking wetly. "Do you do that often?"

Will's smile faltered slightly as he furrowed his brows. 

"What, lie?"

Hannibal nodded once, pushing off of his desk. "Yes, lie. Fib. Exaggerate. Minimize." Hannibal flicked his wrist as he spoke.

Will's brows threaded as he grinned. "And why the hell would I tell you that?" Hannibal smiled in return. Cunning. Too smart for his own good. 

"Again with the deflections. Perhaps we should make our sessions a drinking game. Drink a finger of whiskey every time you dodge a question." Hannibal mused, stepping closer. Will hissed, chuckling dryly. 

"You'd have to carry me out of here." Hannibal looked into Will's eyes, more serious now.

"I believe I could manage."

Will inhaled, the scent of Hannibal's vaguely floral perfume sticking to the inside of his nostrils. As he exhaled, a small sound slipped from his lips before he could catch it.

"I vaguely remember you saying you weren't finished with me yet, Doctor Lecter." Hannibal raised his head, listening. "Were you bluffing?" Hannibal's lips twitched up at the corner. He exhaled against Will's lips. They were so close now, their hair touched like wires jump-starting a vehicle. 

"No, Will." He whispered. "I don't bluff either."

Will's face broke into a large, childish smile. All twenty-nine of his teeth glistening in the moonlit office. He wet his lips with his tongue, leaning forward centimeter by centimeter. He suddenly realized that his objective of the night would be to force Hannibal to drop this cool, collected demeanor. He wanted to be the one to make him break, to burst at the seams of his person-suit. 

He grabbed onto Hannibal's sides, bunching the fabric of his obnoxiously well-fitting suit in his fists. He pressed his lips to his.

Hannibal smiled into the kiss, eyes widening slightly as Will pulled him flush against him in the blink of an eye. Will sucked Hannibal's lip between his teeth, kneading the already swollen flesh back and forth. Hannibal kissed him back with matched intensity, still attempting to kiss him in the way he does everything--calculated and precise. Will shook his head, breaking the kiss with a groan to mumble against the other mans lips.

"No. None of that shit. You're going to kiss me like you mean it." Will hissed. Hannibal hummed, looking at him. 

"And if I don't?" He grinned.

Will gripped Hannibal's sides tighter, pinching the flesh beneath the fabric. Hannibal moaned, eyes fluttering shut. He nodded, much to Will's delight.

"Good." Will smiled. He snaked his hand up to Hannibal's throat and squeezed as he slotted his lips between his. He pushed his tongue into the warm wet heat that was Hannibal's mouth, tasting the remnants of himself on the other man's tongue. His knees buckled at the intimacy of it. Hannibal parted his lips, inviting Will in. He sucked on his tongue and nipped at his bottom lip, tearing off a sliver of dried skin and swallowing it. Will's chest stuttered. He shut his eyes and fell into Hannibal.

Hands pressed up against each other's chests as if in a desperate attempt to push the other away. Or pull each other closer. What exactly the motive was, neither knew. The only thing they knew was that it was shared. Like the beach was a place of peace and destruction, that beautiful contrast, that perfect hypocrisy. Will stepped forward as Hannibal stepped back. The wood of the desk dug into Hannibal's back, making him grunt in pain--pleasure? God only knows, but to Will's mind hazed with desire, both noises sounded exactly the same.

The sound of expensive fountain pens and files dropping to the floor made Will's neck jerk in the direction of the mess. Hannibal pressed his cold fingers to Will's jaw, forcing his gaze to meet his. He shook his head. Will grinned, fingers moving to undo the buttons of Hannibal's jacket. His fingers fumbled slightly as he worked the eight buttons of the vest underneath, making him curse and practically rip it over the man's head. If it were anybody else, Hannibal would've scowled. How rude. But it was Will, and so he let it slide. Hannibal slipped Will's flannel over his shoulders, running his fingers over the sheen of sweat that had begun to bead on his flushed chest. Will shivered, a pathetic whimper slipping from his lips.

Will reached between their bodies and palmed Hannibal's bulge. He kneaded it in his palm, feeling a damp spot begin to speak through his boxers and into his dress-pants. Will grinned, pride flushing on his cheeks. 

"You're so wet, darling."

Hannibal writhed beneath his touch, huffing. He whispered Will's name in an attempt to scold him, but Will simply swallowed the syllable down with a hungry kiss. His fingers undid the button and clasp of his pants.

"Lift your hips a bit."

Hannibal nodded, obeying. Will slid the dark brown fabric over his thighs, moaning at the sight of him.

"So pretty." Hannibal growled in response, hating the way Will's condescension makes him dribble steadily into his boxers.

"You speak to all your sexual endeavors in this manner?" Hannibal breathed, groaning. Will chuckled, kissing Hannibal's neck and pressing his tongue flat against his pulse point.

"Nope. Just you, sweetheart."

Will pushes him flat against the desk, swiping the papers and writing utensils to the floor to make space for him. His eyes catch on something shiny. He palms it in the dark, running his thumb on the sleek blade. He hums.

"You keep a scalpel on your desk?"

Hannibal blinks, clearly not expecting the question. He swallows and nods, taking a deep breath. 

"I find it to be more effective than pencil sharpeners--" Will shushes him, tossing the scalpel to the floor with a soft clink. He tugs Hannibal's dress-shirt over his shoulders and cards his fingers through the thick hairs covering his chest. He slots himself between Hannibal's thighs and leans over, kissing and sucking little marks into the skin on his chest. Hannibal's hands fly to Will's hair, manicured fingers scratching and massaging his scalp as he continues his ministrations.

"You look stunning in red. Have I ever told you that, Hannibal?" He whimpers and pants, helplessly grinding himself against Will's thigh. Will chuckles in response, biting down on a nipple and rolling it between his teeth. Hannibal's grip in his hair tightens as he gasps.

"You've got lube?" Will whispers, a gravelly tone added to his voice. Hannibal can smell the lust on him. Bitter, acidic and sweet like ripe grapefruit. That with the heady scent of the lingering fever and sweat is like a feast for his senses. Hannibal smiles.

"Third file cabinet, end of the drawer." Will reaches down, fishing in the drawer for the small bottle. 

"How anticipatory of you, Doctor Lecter." He hums. He pulls him by the thighs against him, letting his hard cock rub against the bulge in Hannibal's boxers. The friction sends sparks through both of them, strangled groans clawing their way out of their throats. 

Will's fingers finally slip beneath the waistband of Hannibal's boxers and he almost scoffs.

"Silk?" His lips curl around the uni-syllable word

"It's antibacterial." Hannibal replies, as if his response should be enough. Will rolls his eyes, tugging them down and taking Hannibal's length in his fist, stroking lazily.

"It's...superfluous." He mumbles.

Hannibal hisses, jolting up from the desk. He bites down on his lip, but it does nothing to stop the endless string of hopeless, needy whimpers and grunts. Will feels the noises rush straight between his legs. He presses a slick finger against Hannibal's hole, ghosting it lightly. Hannibal cries out, nails scraping the mahogany of the desk. Will shushes him again whilst simultaneously pushing the first finger in to the second knuckle. He grins.

"Quiet. The receptionist is still here. Don't want her seeing you all spread out like this for your patient, do we?" He coos in feigned concern. Hannibal moans louder as he feels Will add a second finger, curling them against his prostate. He pants, chest rising and falling.

"I couldn't care less. Embarrassment is a foreign concept to me."

Will scissors his fingers inside of him, twisting his wrist and stretching him open. He hums, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. Though, I'd hate to be forced to find a new psychiatrist." He muses. "I doubt you'd like that either, considering how fascinating you seem to find me."

Hannibal whimpers, shaking his head. Drool has begun to drip out of the corner of his mouth, making a steady path down his chin. 

Will removes his fingers from him, eliciting a punched-out sound from the man on the desk. Will slicks himself up and places his hands on Hannibal's waist. His thumbs move back and forth on his stomach, making Hannibal's insides flutter in anticipation. Will lines himself up with him and slides in slowly, exhaling a low drawn out moan. Hannibal clutches at Will's bicep, breathing through his nose as he adjusts to the fullness. He swears he sees stars as Will bottoms out. His cock twitches and he has to Will himself not to spill just from the feeling of the stretch.

Will rolls his hips, pulling a low groan from Hannibal. He grinds into him harder, simply watching the expression on his face twist in ecstasy. He rolls his eyes.

"'M warning you, Hannibal. Keep your mouth shut." He scolds, voice stern. Hannibal grins, accent thick.

"Make me."

Will's gaze darkens and he tilts his head, jaw ticking. Hannibal watches him with a mirrored expression, scowling at the man above him. He gasps as Will pulls out of him suddenly, moving to pick something up from the hardwood floor. Hannibal's eyes follow him, expression slipping into surprise.

"If you insist." Will grumbles, forcing Hannibal's head up from the desk by his hair. He forces the man's lips open with his thumb, pressing down on his tongue. Hannibal gags, simply watches him with an expression akin to awe. Will slips the ox-blood tie between Hannibal's teeth, pulling the skin of his lips taught. He ties it at the back of his head, forearms bulging in the action.

"There we go." Will smiles, repositioning himself. "Nice and quiet."

Hannibal whines, muffled now by the makeshift gag. Will grins, devilish and beautiful in its complexity. 

Will holds Hannibal's thighs and slams into him. It's as if all of the air is slammed out of Hannibal's lungs. His eyes shut as he grips Will's bicep. He whimpers and whines, saliva dampening the tie. Will moan softly, establishing a steady pace. Brutal and almost torturous, it is. If it weren't for the drag of Will's cock head against his prostate, his moans would be that of pain. All Hannibal can do is lay there and take it.

Will runs his hand over the mans chest before stilling over his stomach. At the next thrust, he buries himself deep inside of Hannibal while pressing down on his stomach. Will groans, stomach flipping at the sight. Absolutely lewd. Hannibal mewls, drool dripping down his chin. He attempts to mumble something through the gag.

Will clasps Hannibal's hand, resting it over the bulge in his lower abdomen. He pulls out almost completely, deigning to roll his hips painfully slow. He huffs a breathy chuckle.

"Feel that?"

Hannibal nods, eyes rolling back. Will watches his tongue flatten under the fabric as he attempts to swallow. Hannibal moans, thighs tensing and stomach rippling. Will grins, speeding up. He covers Hannibal's lips with a calloused palm, wiping the saliva and spreading it over his face. He feels the familiar knot coil heat in his belly as the other man whimpers into his hand. Hannibal practically mewls, clearly trying to beg. Will tuts.

"Aw, are you going to come, Doctor? Go ahead. Show me what a fucking whore you are." He wraps his other hand around Hannibal's sensitive length, making him jolt up.

Hannibal clenches around him, practically sucking him in as spasms of pleasure wrack his frayed nerves. He pants and hiccups as he spills over Will's hand, tears dripping from his eyes and mixing with the saliva on the tie. Will groans, resting his head in the crook of Hannibal's neck. His hips stutter as he finishes, hissing at the additional warmth. Hannibal runs his fingers through Will's hair--something he's begun to take liking to, Will supposes. He shivers, reaching up to undo the knot at the base of Hannibal's head. He slips the tie out of his mouth like a child carefully undoing a ribbon on a Christmas gift, letting it flutter to the ground.

Hannibal closes his mouth. He reaches a shaking hand up to his own jaw, massaging the tense muscles. He huffs as Will pulls out, watching the man rest his head back on his chest. They take a breather, still reeling from the intensity of their orgasms. After a while, Hannibal mumbles, voice positively wrecked from all of his histrionics.

"I must say, I'm quite enjoying the feeling of you against me, Will. However, my back is beginning to bruise. May we relocate?"

Will lifts his head, chuckling. He nods. "Of course, sweetheart. Forgot you're still an old man."

Hannibal squints, bristling. He pinches Will's temple, twisting. Will cries out in pain, still grinning.

"Shut up." Hannibal bites. Will locks eyes with him. Hannibal watches them glisten in recognition of an opening. Will fixes his lips.

"Make me." 

Hannibal looks at him, dry lips crackling into a grin as he hears his own words used against him. He tilts his head.

"If you insist."

~~~