Archive of Our Own

Will had thought, perhaps naively, that his hunger for violence would have been satiated tonight. That it had bled away into the floorboards, along with the life from Randall Tier.

With Hannibal’s gentle touch to his bloodied knuckles, the doctor’s hand cradling his own as though something precious, that hunger sparks and ignites once more. For Hannibal to handle him like this after what he’s done, to treat him like he matters, kindles a rage he should be too tired for after coming down from a kill such as this.

Hannibal is slammed down on the dining table without warning, without care. His eyes widen for a moment, before a spark of curiosity lights them up. Will wants to crush that light within his fist.

It’s hardly surprising that Hannibal would gamble with Will’s life so recklessly. It’s something he’s done time and time again, toying with it like something disposable — that’s nothing new. But for him to send a killer to his home, to put the lives of Will’s dogs at risk, the only semblance of family he has left—

A soft, airy voice in his mind protests the thought the moment it arises. A voice which sounds suspiciously like the man he is holding pinned below him.

In retaliation, Will pushes Hannibal down harder, digging bruises into his arms.

But Hannibal is not struggling. All he does is watch Will with that ever-present curiosity, like a lazing cat, and it enrages Will. With his grip on Hannibal, he lifts him off the table, only to slam him down hard again, knocking the breath out of him.

“Is Randall Tier not the only life you plan to take tonight?” Hannibal goads him, a hint of teeth peeking out between lips which are trying not to smile. “Or is this something else?”

An undercurrent of seduction lines Hannibal’s words. It nearly startles Will to hear it, even though the fact of Hannibal’s promiscuous nature is something that’s been known.

Against his desire, the image of Alana Bloom in Hannibal’s bed materializes in his mind — a sharp, clear picture he never wishes to see again.

The rage grips Will’s spine again, charging at full force. Despite his insistence on being a friend, Hannibal took Alana Bloom to bed. Is still taking her to bed. And Will doesn’t even want Alana, but this betrayal, this way they’ve shut him out by letting each other in — it stings.

Will does not even deign to look Hannibal in the eye when he rips the man’s slacks and underwear off in one go. Hannibal’s leather oxfords are pulled off just as roughly, and he is left bare waist-down, other than the black socks his feet are clad in, and the sock garters connected to them.

On a deep exhale, Hannibal curls a leg around Will’s hip, heel digging into Will’s lower back to pull him closer.

Still, Will does not look at him. His gaze is set between Hannibal’s spread thighs, where his cunt is already swollen and glistening with arousal, wetness drooling out his hole to drip onto the inside of his coat.

He cups Hannibal’s pussy, spreading his folds, before shoving two fingers into Hannibal’s hot, slick hole, up to his bloodied knuckles.

Hannibal’s yelp at the sudden intrusion turns to a moan as Will curls his fingers, scrubbing over his g-spot with relentless precision. His thumb circles Hannibal’s clit, which throbs at the contact.

All too soon, Will pulls his hand away, leaving him torturously empty, and lays a sharp slap to Hannibal’s puffy cunt.

Hannibal bites his lip at the sting, more arousal pooling out of his reddened pussy.

“You really are a depraved little whore. Already soaked and open just from being brought a corpse,” Will hisses, spreading his pointer and middle finger to show off the slick strings of Hannibal’s arousal.

“Yes, yes— just fuck me, Will,” Hannibal groans through rosy lips, writhing on the dining table, until the side of his head hits the unmoving leg of the aforementioned corpse.

“I will. But not because you asked me to.”

Will throws off his own charcoal coat, letting it fall to the floor to cover Hannibal’s belongings, and quickly unbuckles to pull out his cock.

Lifting his head, Hannibal strains to get an eyeful, and what he sees has him salivating. Will is not fully hard yet, but his size is impressive already. Beyond what Hannibal is used to taking, and he wants it like nothing else.

Hannibal gasps as he’s pulled down along the table by his thighs, until the juicy lips of his cunt cradle Will’s twitching cock.

The younger man ruts against the seam of Hannibal’s pussy like an animal, using his slick labia to bring himself to full hardness. He fills out rapidly while pressed to the man below, cock jerking to slap against his pussy, and Hannibal feels precariously close to coming already, overwhelmed with the way Will’s cockhead glides over his sensitive clit.

Rigid and leaking now, Will circles his cock, using his grasp to smack it against Hannibal’s cunt. Hannibal’s hips jump at the contact, and Will quickly presses a strong forearm over the bone, holding him flush against the table. Smacking his cock over Hannibal’s slick pussy again and again like it’s a punishment, Will doesn’t notice Hannibal’s orgasm approaching until he seizes underneath him, ejaculate gushing out of his pussy with a particularly harsh slap of Will’s hard cock to his clit and hole.

Will pauses, and for the first time since intending to fuck Hannibal at all, he makes eye contact with the man.

Hannibal’s face is flushed a pretty shade of pink, his honey eyes glazed with the beginnings of tears.

“You came just from that?” Will says, and he’s not sure if he’s admonishing or praising Hannibal.

“What can I say,” Hannibal breathes out shakily, still twitching with his climax. “I am a whore.” He echoes Will, a smirk exposing his pointed teeth. Will has half a mind to knock them out.

Instead, he presses the tip of his cock to Hannibal’s blushing hole, and slides in with one slow thrust. The thickness of his cock stretches Hannibal obscenely wide, the lips of his cunt clinging to Will’s shaft, holding him tight within Hannibal’s velvety insides. The sound Hannibal makes as he’s split open can only be described as a whimper.

Will’s hands snake inside of Hannibal’s coat, up underneath the sides of his button-up to clutch at Hannibal’s bare hips.

When Will pulls back, his shaft is covered in Hannibal’s cum, creamy and glistening, and he fucks back in with a squelch. He begins to snap his hips, wringing filthy sounds out of Hannibal’s body from both ends, the older man’s moans positively pornographic as his slippery pussy is pounded into.

With each thrust into Hannibal’s silky, wet cunt, Will pulls him down by his grasp on his hips to meet him halfway, fucking Hannibal onto his cock like a doll. He maneuvers Hannibal’s body with ease, the polished wood providing a smooth surface to slide him over.

As he manhandles Hannibal onto his shaft again and again, forcing the older man down on his cock to reach as deep into him as possible — Will’s gaze wanders up the length of the table, latching onto the body he’d laid there, like an offering.

Tier’s beaten face and unseeing eyes are pointed to the ceiling, but Will feels like they’re being watched. Like he’s being judged.

“Did you sleep with Randall too?” Will asks with a harsh thrust, jostling Hannibal, before stopping with his cockhead pressed to Hannibal’s sweet spot.

The pause in Will’s movements register before anything else, and Hannibal rolls his hips minutely — stimulating himself with the tip of Will’s cock against his throbbing g-spot.

“What?”

“Did you?” Will pulls back, exiting Hannibal’s body with a slick pop — to keep Hannibal from pleasuring himself. The fat head of his cock kisses Hannibal’s fluttering hole, the light gape of it begging for Will to breach him again.

When Hannibal opens his mouth, Will obliges, sliding back in while tugging Hannibal down.

“Ah— Randall was sixteen when I treated him.” Hannibal’s voice quivers as Will leans over him, his looming presence more of a threat than a wish to be close.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He stays buried deep, fucking Hannibal’s sloppy cunt in short, squelching thrusts. Hannibal’s brow furrows, even as the deep penetration satisfies a profound ache within him.

“What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Not a very moral one.”

Will draws away from Hannibal, cutting off any response he might have. He goes back to long, jarring plunges, sliding Hannibal’s back over the wood as he plunders the squishy walls of his cunt.

He hopes the ghost of Tier is seething, just as he is.

One-handed, Will rips open Hannibal’s buttoned layers to reveal his furred chest, grasping a soft pec to squeeze and knead, pinching a hard nipple between his fingers.

Hannibal moans like he’s getting paid for it, slutty noises pitching higher as he’s fondled by Will’s rough hand. His own hand wanders towards Will’s clothed chest, itching to unbutton the faded blue, bare him, hoping to touch him too.

It was too much to hope, as his questing hand is slapped away before he can even make contact.

“Don’t. Touch me.” Will growls, and shoves Hannibal down on his cock again. “You don’t deserve to touch me.”

The firm rub over Hannibal’s g-spot punches a wet gasp out of the older man.

“Even this,” Will punctuates his words with a hard grind into Hannibal’s sopping cunt, his balls smearing against Hannibal’s wet perineum and asshole, “is more than you deserve.”

“As you like it,” Hannibal relents, clenching his cunt around Will’s shaft, memorizing each and every vein as it plunges into him. Will’s flared cockhead drags along his ridged insides with each push and pull, providing the most exquisite stimulation he’s ever felt from being penetrated. From any sort of sexual contact at all.

He supposes that’s enough for now.

“But I would have preferred more intimacy.” He says anyway. As though his preference matters to Will.

Will pretends not to hear him, but the last word sticks in his mind.

Everything falls away around him as he drives his cock into Hannibal with increasing brutality, pummeling his hot insides like he’s trying to kill him with it. Each forceful, full-body thrust flings drops of sweat off the curls over his forehead.

“Do you fantasize about killing me?”

Hannibal writhes underneath him, head thrown back, mouth hanging open and eyes half-mast in bliss as he’s fucked like a thing made of silicone.

“Yes.”

The grip on Hannibal’s hips clenches and unclenches, letting go, and Will’s palms slide up along Hannibal’s warm body.

“Tell me, how would you do it?”

Gliding over defined collarbones to touch the base of his neck, his fingers curl around Hannibal’s exposed throat.

“With my hands.”

He squeezes.

Hannibal’s eyes snap wide open as Will’s hands bear down on his windpipe, before going low-lidded again. He defies Will’s command, raising his hands to wrap around Will’s strong wrists.

Not to push him away, or even encourage him. Just to hold him, feel him as he squeezes the breath out of him. To appreciate the way that Will crushes him with calloused fingertips digging into his pulse.

Even with his hands around Hannibal’s neck, Will sees the soft adoration in his face — glassy eyes which sparkle through fluttering lashes, and plush lips tilted in a gentle, fond smile. By the way that Hannibal has handled him so far, it feels out of place. Like he’s revealing something Will is not ready to hear yet. It compels Will to fuck him harder, to wring his throat harder, until Hannibal is blue in the face.

He watches Hannibal’s red flush bloom darker, changing color as he’s deprived of oxygen by Will’s hands — feels Hannibal’s already gentle grip slackening with it.

With the raspy, barely-there breaths leaving his lips, Hannibal is reminded of being wet in a different way, strung up with a noose around his neck. At the time, he wished so badly that Will had done it himself. Now, he wants nothing more than what Will is giving him in this very moment.

It’s not the touch of a lover, but Hannibal feels loved.

As his vision begins to blur, dark, fuzzy spots overlaying the glorious sight of Will’s wrathful mien above him — Hannibal squirts again, a wet spray fucked out of him as he’s speared on Will’s cock, his second orgasm wracking his body. Will continues to fuck him through it, grunting as Hannibal’s cunt spasms around him, hole contracting to squeeze Will over the edge as well.

The moment Will’s orgasm hits him, he feels like he’s the one being choked. He spills inside of Hannibal in waves, cock pulsing as the cum is forced out of him by the slick hole rhythmically tightening around his shaft, milking him while he fucks back into Hannibal’s flooded cunt.

His seed filling Hannibal’s bare cunt feels like a claim, and he can’t help but push it in deeper with his cock, for as long as he’s able.

As he softens within Hannibal’s wet embrace, his squishing thrusts slow to a halt.

Will’s breathing is harsh, unsteady, as reality falls back into place. His fingers feel melded to Hannibal’s heated skin, locked in place.

Only when he’s come down from his climax, does he let go of his crushing grip on Hannibal’s throat.

His gaze focuses on Hannibal, who wheezes to bring air into his lungs again. The way that he looks right now — disheveled, a ruined mess, dark bruises lining his throat like a horrible scarf — Will can’t help but compare him to the other body splayed on the table. He could have killed him. Would have, if only it wouldn’t be so unsatisfying.

He wants Hannibal to suffer like he did. But Hannibal looks content.

Hannibal lifts a trembling hand to press into the fresh bruises on his neck, the mark of Will’s hands on him. He moans in rapture at the pain that blossoms.

All he can think of is those hands, and how much he wants to kiss them.

His legs, which had been hanging off the edge of the table, gently wrap around Will’s narrow hips — beckoning him closer with all the strength he can muster. As soon as Hannibal catches his breath, he will ask to bandage Will’s damaged knuckles. He will do it gently, reverently, and if Will obliges, perhaps more could follow.