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Will presses his palm to Hannibal’s lower belly, where the silk and his skin underneath still burn hot from the rice pack, and digs in a little harder. Just a little. Hannibal’s stunned breath puffs into Will’s mouth, and Will can’t take it anymore. He slots his dry, chapped lips against Hannibal’s in a rush, incensed by the slight turn of Hannibal’s head, the gentle twist of his body. Away—away from Will, as if he has a choice anymore.
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- Part 3 of Trans Hannibal Fics
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