Chapter Text
There is music – violins, mostly, with the soft sound of a piano passing between one headphone and the other. It makes him sway, absently, wanting to follow the lull and beat of the music, and as it plays, each note feels as a weight, adding to his shoulders, making him sag, and sigh, as another pound of nothingness settles itself along the back of his neck.
There is darkness, a blindfold around his eyes, obscuring his vision and making sure not even a peak of light passes through. Normally he would rebel against anything that blocked his eyes like this, but it has been a long time since he was afraid of the dark and it is not fear, now, that makes his heart race and his breaths uneven.
His hands are bound in front of him with soft, silken cloth. Not ropes, not this time – Hannibal said he wanted to be gentle with Will, wanted to let him float, and be free, and Will has found himself easing into it with surprising grace, for with Hannibal, he trusts, and is relaxed and content.
A gentle touch settles at his chin and Will sucks in a breath, lifting his head. The cool, hard rim of a glass pushes to his lower lip, and he parts his jaws, allowing the small sip of water Hannibal feeds him to wet his tongue. The glass pulls away, though the touch lingers, strong fingers spreading out to wrap around his throat and keep his head upright.
He gasps, and slackens his jaw when he feels another pressure, this one blunt, warm, soft. He smiles, just briefly, and his lashes flutter behind his blindfold as Hannibal feeds Will his cock. He presses his tongue flat along the thick vein, accepting each inch as it's pushed into his mouth. He sighs through his nose, wet and loose, his fingers curling so he doesn't reach up and grab.
Hannibal's hand slides to his hair, fisting tight. Will cannot hear him over the rush of the music and he aches, desperately, to hear his soft sounds of pleasure. Hannibal has become more vocal over their time together, learning that Will responds much more enthusiastically to every groan, every snarl, every shuddered exhale he can pull from Hannibal. He delights in the shatter-crack of his control, revels in the sounds Hannibal makes when he starts to lose himself, either inside of Will, or under him.
Hannibal presses onward, his hand in Will's hair meaning he can't pull away as Hannibal's thick cock pushes into his mouth, past his gag reflex, sits heavy in his throat. He breathes in, his nose full of the scent of Hannibal, tongue able to slide out and lick at the base of him. He can feel Hannibal's cock twitch and he blinks, tearing up in reflex, swallowing harshly as his throat starts to spasm in protest.
Hannibal holds him there, another second, two, then he pulls back and all the way out. Will gasps, groaning, saliva dripping down his chin because he can't close his lips fast enough – but then Hannibal's other thumb is there, hooking into the corner of his mouth, keeping him open, and Will has just enough time to take in another breath before Hannibal's cock is between his lips again, pushing inside.
He growls softly, slackens his jaw again as Hannibal fucks in deeply. His lips are already swollen and sore, his throat aching, but Hannibal doesn't force him to take it all again. He starts a slow, steady rhythm, one hand holding Will's head still, the other hooked in his mouth to be sure he can't form a tight seal, and he can feel the warm, tacky cling of saliva running down his face, smeared along his cheeks and jaw by Hannibal's hand.
Hannibal's rhythm is slow, rocking like the music filling Will's head, and he whines, aches, wishes instead he was hearing Hannibal's deep sighs, his eager snarls, the stutter-stall of his breath when Will licks over the head of his cock in a rough swipe whenever he's allowed.
He's sure Hannibal is talking, because Hannibal can't not say anything when Will is on his knees. Will aches to hear, wants to know what Hannibal is thinking, what he's saying – he's sure Hannibal is showering praise on him, or maybe saying more vulgar things that he knows Will wouldn't ask for otherwise.
But no, that's not Hannibal.
He whines, swallowing harshly when Hannibal pulls his cock out again. He cups Will's jaw with both hands and pulls him into a gentle kiss, and Will's mouth is sensitive enough that it sends a jolt of electricity straight down his spine. Every touch from Hannibal burns him, brands him, and he's sure he's red wherever Hannibal's hand has landed.
Hannibal kisses him again, licking into his mouth, and Will shivers, drinking down his lover's sated moan, Hannibal's fingers flexing across his neck, sliding up into his hair. Then, he feels a tug, and the headphones fall away, and Will can hear. He gasps, and a shiver runs down his spine when he hears Hannibal's growl, feels his lips on Will's heated cheek.
"You are exquisite," Hannibal purrs, and Will flushes darkly, his fingers curling in pleasure. He smiles, and feels Hannibal's fingers trace the curve of it, into the bulge of his cheek. It was Will's turn to sit in the chair, this time, and he has been silent and obedient for the whole night, as Hannibal restrained him and made him kneel in the middle of their bedroom.
Hannibal kisses him again, deep and forceful, and pushes at Will's shoulders, sends him backwards, prowls over him to lie flat on his back, his bound arms reaching up and hands flattening on Hannibal's bare chest. Will moans, arching into Hannibal's weight, trembling at the touch on the nape of his neck, Hannibal's large hand flattening down his warm flank, to his hip. He spreads his legs and cries out when Hannibal grinds between them, their cocks slicking along each other, Hannibal's wet from Will's mouth, Will's leaking at the tip.
The rule of the chair is silence, so Will can merely cling, and beg with his body, dig his heels to the floor and lift his hips to put more pressure between their stomachs. He gasps when Hannibal growls, teeth at his neck, and Hannibal bites down.
It is a powerful, sensual thing, to feel Hannibal on top of him like this, and after so long in silence and darkness and lacking touch, every nerve ending is alight, screaming with desperation for more. His shoulders dig into the hard wood of the floor, his fingers flex weakly against Hannibal's chest. The drag of Hannibal's hips between his thighs chafes, almost, burns his sensitive skin.
Will's lips part around a heavy gasp as Hannibal sucks on his neck, a bright spot of pain blooming, forming a bruise, his pulse rushing heavily against Hannibal's dangerous teeth as though eager to spill for him. "Ah, hn," he gasps, pawing at Hannibal frantically as Hannibal's hand slides down his hip, then his fingers wrap around both of them, stroking tight and quick.
Hannibal laughs, the sound warm and low and like caramel on Will's tender flesh. He parts his jaws from Will's neck and kisses the heated skin, nuzzles Will's jaw, kisses there too as Will's stomach sinks in, his thighs tensed and lifting in preparation for his orgasm.
"Are you going to come for me, darling?" Hannibal whispers, his teeth at Will's ear, and Will nods frantically, and wishes he could see. He loves the sight of Hannibal when he's close, loves watching his jaw tense, his upper lip curl back. Loves seeing the red-dark of his iris before his lashes lower and he goes still. Hannibal is sweating, burning hot above him, and Will is close.
Hannibal growls, lets go of his own cock and focuses solely on Will's, swiping his thumb over his leaking slit, his palm tight and smooth as he touches Will and brings him closer. His other hand wraps in Will's hair and tugs hard enough that he arches back, baring his neck.
"That's it," he whispers, as shaken as Will feels. He kisses Will's thundering pulse, edges his teeth, and says, "Come for me, my sweet boy. Show me how good it feels when I touch you."
Will moans, loud and long, clawing at Hannibal's chest with his bound hands as he feels that final thing give, arousal uncoiling in his stomach and swooping down, sudden and sharp. He comes with Hannibal's teeth in his throat, cries out, high-pitched and trembling, his cock spilling thickly over Hannibal's hand and between their bellies.
Hannibal growls, and lets go of him, touching himself now instead. Will shivers at the brush of his knuckles along his sensitive flesh and then he whimpers as Hannibal rolls him onto his side, pushes his thigh up to expose his hole. Hannibal plants a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down, and uses the slick of Will's seed to wet the head of his cock and pushes in, just enough that Will's body aches sharply in protest. He doesn't fuck in all the way, wouldn't risk harming Will like that, but it's enough – he goes still, grunting loudly, and strokes the rest of his cock as he floods Will's ass, filling him up.
Will relaxes, wincing at his hip and shoulder dig into the unforgiving floor, and Hannibal's weight presses him down, keeps him hobbled and still as he finishes. Hannibal growls, fingers flexing on Will's shoulder, and he pushes in just another inch, until Will sucks in a breath, instinctively clamping down to warn him from trying to press deeper.
That earns another laugh, and Hannibal pulls out. Will sighs, shivering as he feels Hannibal's come leaking out of him, the tender, raw stretch of his muscles trying desperately to keep it in. Hannibal slides up next to him and Will feels another tug, and then the blindfold is removed and he blinks, rapidly, as his eyes adjust to the low light.
Hannibal covers him, tilts his head up with his dirty hand and kisses Will deeply. He pulls back with a smile, flushed and sated, and Will hums, letting Hannibal pull him upright and carefully unwind the soft silk from around his wrists and forearms.
When he's finished, he kisses Will's wrists, and presses their foreheads together. "Thank you for indulging me, darling," he breathes, and Will smiles, lifting his chin for another kiss that Hannibal eagerly grants him. He thumbs, tender and gentle, on the slight redness around Will's wrists.
Will clears his throat, swallows, and lets his head rest on Hannibal's shoulder as Hannibal pets him, soothing his tremors and calming the fire-edged sharpness of his oversensitive skin. Hannibal doesn't take out the chair nearly as often as Will does, and as a result, after the fact, he is much softer and grateful with his touches, and liberal with his praise.
Hannibal kisses his flushed cheek, embraces him gently, and then pulls them both to their feet. Will gives a meek sound of protest, eyeing the stain on the floor. Hannibal follows his gaze, and grins at him, unrepentant.
"Let me draw you a bath," he says. "And you can relax while I clean up."
Will hums again, and nods in acceptance. But not before he gets one more kiss.