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His father had always told him to never get married. It was too much hassle, too much expense, always too much something. Will had always assumed it was just the talk of a jaded old man, bitter and depressed about his broken heart and perpetual bachelorhood. Love was nothing more to him than a four-letter word which he could spit out between angry swigs of beer.
Will had to wonder if his father was not wrong as he sat on the balcony basking in the golden warmth of the Cuban sunlight, scruff well-grown and wounds well-healed, with two voices growing ever louder in the background. Somehow, he had managed to saddle himself with not one but two husbands. He’d never thought to ask his father about that.
They weren’t actually married. Well, officially he and Hannibal were thanks to some dubious documents which Hannibal Graham-Lecter had procured. However, Will Graham was still Will Graham, in name and body. He was not a traditionalist, but if Hannibal wanted him to consider them truly married then he’d have to actually propose. That being said, they were husbands.
Now, Matthew Brown was a whole different species of fish. On their first night in this place, he had presented Will with matching hand-carved hawk pendants. The string had been hung around Matthew’s neck ever since. Will only took it off when he cared to appease Hannibal- occasions of which were few and far between. They were also husbands.
Hannibal Lecter and Matthew Brown, however, were not husbands. They were as far away from ‘husbands’ as was possible for two people to be. If it weren’t for Will, Matthew Brown would have undoubtedly been yet another of the Chesapeake Ripper’s pincushions. And Matthew found Hannibal utterly amusing. He liked to akin Hannibal to a fly bashing repeatedly into a pane of glass when the window next to it was wide open.
Will was not listening to the intricacies of whatever debate they were having – but he could tell Matthew Brown was currently poking the bear.
Matthew, as usual, was having far too much fun. From the mocking light lilt of his voice, the stupid noises of fake outrage he was making, Will could easily imagine his face pulled to comical extremes to only further incite Hannibal. Unfortunately, it was working- it was definitely working. Hannibal’s voice never rose; he didn’t need to shout. Fiery venom mixed with every syllable gave all the wrath he needed to convey. Unfortunately, for Hannibal, Matt found nothing more fun than to dance amongst the flames of hellfire.
The noise stopped and the sea breeze and the birds in the trees suddenly were able to sing their songs freely again. It was a peace that Will knew would not last, but he let himself appreciate the calm seconds for all they were worth.
The balcony door slid open and Hannibal stepped through in a camel-coloured suit. Their hidden-away spot in paradise and its ruthless temperatures had done little to stop Hannibal from dressing himself as he always had. His hair had grown long and tucked behind his ears. The righteous fury did not quite dissipate as his eyes met Will’s but it did soften into something more passive. His fingers found passage amongst Will’s locks and he craned his neck upwards to let the man kiss him goodbye. Every part of Will must be savoured; the taste of whiskey on his lips, the smell of sweat and dirt that clung to his skin, the perfect angles and lines of his face. He was perfect; it was always so regretful to leave Will’s side for even a moment. This was Hannibal’s design. Will blinked and the feeling was gone.
“I will be gone for a few hours, my dear. Do kill Mr Brown if he becomes too incorrigible.”
Hannibal pulled himself far enough away from Will that he was able to watch the glee pooling in his eyes.
“If Matthew Brown ever needs to be killed, I will not take that satisfaction away from you, Dr Lecter,” Will teased.
They were calculated words. Will knew Hannibal knew this. Will observed as Hannibal took in the way his lip curled as he teased him with such sweet delights and the jump in his husband’s pulse along the side of his neck.
“Alas, for now, you will have to continue on with your feud,” Will continued.
“There is no feud.” They both knew this was a lie, “Mr Brown merely lacks the mental fortitude you deserve in a partner.”
“And yet I still keep him around,” Will mused. “Do you not think me capable of choosing my own partners?”
“Alas, my dear boy, I think you entirely capable. That is why this lapse in judgement surprises me so.”
Will carded his hands through the man’s hair and pulled him close. He always found perverse pleasure in disarraying the perfectly curated image of his husband- the façade of Hannibal Lecter may fool everyone else, but never him.
Moments after Hannibal left, Matthew stalked into the balcony and took his place. His stupid face beamed with an endless grin, as he met Will’s eyes from the seat opposite him.
“How, exactly, have you been displaying your ‘lack of mental fortitude’ today?” Will jibed.
“I used one of his knives as a screwdriver.”
“God... You know one of these days he really is going to kill you,” Will sighed. “Even his... affections for me won’t act as a deterrent forever.”
“And I’ll get to watch from Hell as he becomes more and more pathetic in his attempts to win you back. Eventually, you’ll both join me in the pit, and then what’s he gonna do? Kill my tormenting spirit?”
“If there’s a will, there’s a way..”
“Oh baby, think how bored you would be if we got along. Grandpa is just worried you’re going to leave him for the younger, hotter model.”
Will shot Matthew a half-hearted look; he was jesting as he always did.
“What would happen if I just locked the two of you in a room together? Threw away the key and told you to sort it out.”
“Well, I don’t imagine your husband would take very kindly to my advances if that’s what you were asking.” A despicable grin showed off Matthew’s teeth as he laughed.
They both knew that wasn’t what he was asking, but it drew something between a sigh and a chuckle from Will as he shook his head. Irate, furious, murderous would not even begin to encompass the ways to describe what Hannibal’s state would be at such a proposal, but, God, was it hilarious to picture.
“Well... I imagine you would only have one husband at the end of that little scenario,” Matthew added.
“I don’t think either of you would allow the other the satisfaction of winning. You’d kill each other and then what? I go sulking around for replacements?”
“I could take the old man,” Matthew exclaimed, indignant, as he threw a hand into a theatrical gun cocked to the sky and fired off, mouthing a smarmy ‘boom’. Will could picture Matthew’s fantasy of Hannibal falling through the air, reminiscent of an old Saturday cartoon, and splatting against the floor.
“You know as well as I do Hannibal is barely human. He’d have no blood or organs left in his body and would still find a way to brandish a knife and gut you before he let you have me to yourself.”
“Ye of little faith!” Matthew grasped at his chest in mock outrage before letting his form relax into something more natural. “He needs to learn to share. It’s fun.”
Matthew’s eyebrows rose in that ridiculous way they always did. But he was right- though Will didn’t think ‘fun’ was the word he would have chosen. Will ran a warm, calloused palm across Matthew’s stubbled face, running his fingers tentatively over the scar that ran vertically across his chin. The scar annoyed Will, a scar that was not of his or Hannibal’s design. He didn’t care if it came from a childhood accident or if it came from someone’s knife- he didn’t put it there and therefore it was an eyesore. He let his hands wander Matthew’s face, pressing and pulling at his jaw as he saw fit. His eyes scanned every line and crease, intent to not miss a thing.
“You and Hannibal are like two vultures fighting over a rotting piece of meat when there’s more than enough roadkill for you both,” Will mused.
Matthew drew closer, stalking in with beady eyes. It was his turn to run his hands across Will’s face. He held him at the chin, lifting it so their gazes met perfectly, so their lips were mere centimetres apart as he spoke again.
“You give us both far too much credit. Vultures fight over roadkill because they need it to live. Hannibal and I devour because we can never bring ourselves to stop.”
Will’s eyes glinted darkly at the man’s words. Craning his neck as well as he could, he left only a breath between his and Matthew’s soft lips.
“Well, I guess I’m the fool for my willing participation in The Most Dangerous Game.”
“Oh, baby, you know as well as we do that you are by far the most dangerous here. You’re an intoxicating poison we can never get enough.”
Will’s tongue was practically hanging from his mouth, so eager to feel Matthew’s against his. Just when it appeared Matthew was going to give in he pulled his lips away and found their place against Will’s neck. He sucked harshly at the delicate flesh. Will could only whimper softly and let Matthew take his fill.
“I should be back before four, pretty boy.”
He ruffled Will’s hair the exact way Will hated, and then he was gone.
The place was quiet and Will was alone. It happened rarely, though more often than he would like. He could feel the heated sting Matthew left on his neck pulsing and he relished it. Considering he had nowhere to be today Will decided he would sit outside and watch the world go by. He eventually realised his mind had wandered away from him but he cared too little to stop it. Embracing the dark had made his dreams far less disconcerting than they once were. Now, he only had the corpses of his own making to concern himself with, and those who died at his hands were always deserving.
The shutting of the front door signalled someone returning from their outing. It wasn’t until the click of dress shoes carried across the tiled bedroom floor that he knew exactly who was approaching.
“Hannibal?” he asked, needlessly.
Hannibal came to a still behind Will’s seat. Will felt his deft fingers quickly land upon the fresh purple mark across his neck, pressing into it until he heard Will’s breath hitch. Hannibal was always eager to be the one to inflict such pain.
“Did Mr Brown take his leave?”
“He did. Errands to run.”
Possessive fingers rested upon the bite a few moments longer before Hannibal settled in the seat next to Will. The box came from nowhere. It was a black plush material wrapped in a red bow. Positively gaudy and perfectly Hannibal. Will eyed the man before him curious about his next move.
“Your commitment to Mr Brown is admirable Will,” he said with mild distaste. “Do you not consider him superfluous?”
“No. I actually don’t think he is.”
Hannibal sighed lightly and pushed the velveteen box across the table. Expectant eyes bore into Will until he could no longer put off opening the box. The red ribbon unfurled in his hands and Will lifted the lid. Not a single muscle in Hannibal’s face twitch as he awaited Will’s response.
Inside was a large black thing.
“You bought me a dildo?” his brows furrowed deeply.
“I suspect this will be a more than suitable replacement for Mr Brown.”
Will laughed, hearty and full. Will was not laughing with Hannibal; he was laughing at him.
“Good God, Hannibal. You are... No, actually, I should expect shit exactly like this from you.”
“It was a mere suggestion.”
“Right. Of course, it was.”
Snatching up the box and its contents, Will hurried inside, leaving Hannibal to his own devices. Will observed his husband sitting and admiring the view he had neglected with his sights set only on Will. Will knew the palms flowing in the wind, the calm seas, the ever-blue skies were nothing but pale imitations of beauty compared to how Hannibal saw him.
By the time Hannibal entered the bedroom, Will was dressed down to only his thin white boxers. Will watched as Hannibal’s cheeks warmed as his eyes wandered shamelessly along every curve, every line, every scar.
“What are you waiting for, Dr Lecter ?” Will asked, teasing malice playing at the corner of his mouth, as he teased his fingers across the bare expanse of his chest.
“Only you know that my dear,” The feast could not yet be devoured. “What am I waiting for?”
“The time?”
Hannibal squinted and then turned his eyes to the face of his wristwatch.
“3:47.”
“Mattie will be home soon. Wouldn’t want him to miss out on anything now, would we?”
Hannibal remained silent.
The thin line that Hannibal’s mouth drew as he continued to gaze was too amusing for Will not to chuckle at. He could tell Hannibal found no cause for laughter. He watched the man shrug off his shirt jacket and his tie and he folded them into a pile on top of the dresser without taking his eyes from Will for a moment.
Minutes felt like hours as Hannibal endured. He could only watch on as Will’s fingers circled the delicate, bruised flesh of his upper thighs. Could do nothing as Will allowed needy moans to fall from his mouth. He was forced to feel himself grow harder and harder in his slacks as Will rid himself of his boxers. This was Will’s design.
The door opened downstairs and footsteps quickly bounded through the house until they reached the bedroom.
A humoured ‘oh shit!’ and a hand being thrown across his comical open mouth as he looked between the pair signalled Matthew’s arrival to the party.
“Will has been waiting for your arrival.”
“And so have you!” He threw up a defensive hand at the older man’s unimpressed scowl. “Technically speaking, I’m right.”
Dark green eyes turned darker and a salacious grin carved itself across Matthew’s face as he turned his attention to Will’s naked form.
“What do you reckon he wants then, Doc?”
“Well, I think the answer is quite obvious,” he replied, eyes darkening as his pupils blew out, imagining all that would occur. It was finally time.
His fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt until it hung open, exposing the greying hair of his chest. Beside him, Matthew was quickly relieving himself of unnecessary layers and throwing his clothing across the floor as he grew impatient.
Will’s eyes reeled them in; a toying desire washing over them. As ever, Will had them right where he wanted them. Luxuriously, he spread himself across the silk sheets- parted legs, head thrown back and neck exposed. The two men before him could do nothing but drink in the intoxicating sight as they approached the edge of the bed. Hannibal’s hand went to take a hold of the tanned ankle stretched out before him, but as quickly as his hand had come out, Will pulled his leg away.
“Oh,” Will said, feigning surprise. “But what about your gift, Dr Lecter ?”
From underneath the pillow, the black toy emerged. A noise akin to a snort left Matthew at the sight of it in Will’s hand.
“It’s bigger than both of you. And it vibrates,” He goaded, clicking it into life. “It might be better than both of you combined.”
The smirk that painted Will’s face was all-telling. Will had made himself the gallery’s main attraction and the visitors could do nothing but watch.
Hannibal could feel eyes burning into him. Will watched in amusement as he refused to give Matthew the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. If Hannibal had looked, he would have seen green eyes swirling with disappointment and delight. The disappointment that Will was denying them. The delight at the implication of Will’s words. Poor Hannibal Lecter, once again faced with the failure of ousting him from their little arrangement. When would he, as Matthew already had, come to accept that Will held all the cards in this game?
Will made quick work of opening himself up, two lubed fingers pushing into him easily, as he bent his knees and parted his legs further. With each thrust, he made clear the twisted satisfaction he got from denying the men before him. His breathy moans only increased the further he went; both his husbands were growing hard and desperate. Matthew let wanton need wash across his face. Hannibal’s attempts were admirable, but Will knew the man’s face like no one else did. Desire could only hide amongst contempt so well, especially when Hannibal seemed to merge the two so frequently.
“Lube it up, won’t you, darlin’?” He spoke directly to Hannibal, a wicked playing on his lips.
Hannibal snarled; how Will had come to delight in cruelty at his expense. Hannibal acquiesced, coating it in a liberal amount of lube and quickly passed the thing back to Will, eager for him to finish up his little game and let him fuck him. There was no pause before Will was pushing it into himself, slow at first as he got used to its girth. For a while, there was nothing but Will’s concentrated breaths and the wet sounds of the toy fucking into him.
Both pairs of eyes bored into him warm and inviting, pressing him to go further. He was eager not to disappoint. Slow purposeful movements worked the toy deeper and deeper, but not deep enough, not fast enough. He was denying his own pleasure for the sake of denying them from it too. Each drawn-out thrust into his wet hole elicited soft moans spilling from his parted lips sinfully.
With the feel of their hot gazes burning into him and having finally found that sweet spot, he felt the heat rising inside of him. His bangs clung furiously to his damp forehead. He could no longer keep his eyes open but closing them did little to help. He could still feel their eyes on him, mapping every inch of his skin. Each moan that ripped from him was more ragged and needy than the last.
“It’s funny because no matter how well he fucks himself, he knows we can do it better,” Matthew cut through the noise, a heady tone that Will could not handle in this state.
Matthew said it with a nonchalant tone, tossing the quip Hannibal’s way, but it was met with silence. He was so close to the edge, much more quickly than expected, much more quickly than he had wanted. There was only so long he could bear to deny himself of what his husbands could give him. Clicking the button, the toy whirred into life. It vibrated ceaseless against his prostate making Will’s thighs twitch and tremble. His eyes threw open as he began to spill over the edge. The ravenous gazes of his captive audience finished him off. Strings of white come painted his stomach as he spent his load. He closed his eyes and let the waves roll over him feeling his heartbeat pounding in his head.
The pair moved to surround Will: Hannibal between his legs and Matthew’s spread legs beside Will’s head. Neither did anything beyond running gentle fingers across the flushed skin of Will’s dirty stomach and chest until his breathing calmed. Laid spread, all fucked out and open, Hannibal saw the most divine piece of art. Will’s body, the perfect canvas. After letting him regain himself, Hannibal went to pull out the toy from Will. His hand was stopped by Will’s and he looked up to meet mischievous eyes.
“Perhaps I should just let Mattie fuck me and keep using the toy,” he said, eyes shining with glee.
“Mr Brown, I am not prone to saying this often, but would you do what you do best and shut him up?”
Matthew was aching and hard and Will’s mouth was soft and wet. How could he refuse? He moved forward, letting the tip rest against his parted lips. The soft suckling of his lips and his tongue swirling around the thick head was enough to cause Matthew’s hips to buck involuntarily into Will’s mouth.
“Is that all you’ve got, Matt?” Will managed to scoff, between languid sucks.
It was all the permission Matthew needed. His fingers slotted right into Will’s black curls as he forced Will’s head to the perfect angle and began thrusting into him. He continued his erratic movements as he watched Hannibal pull out the toy. Matthew lavished in the neediness of Will’s rolling hips at the sudden emptiness. Then, he hooked the boy’s legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at his entrance. As Hannibal pushed in, the series of moans leaving Will’s mouth felt like heaven around Matthew’s cock.
Both men increased their pace, glory in finally being able to take pleasure in their husband’s perfect body. Will was always so beautiful, but like this- spread out for all the world to see and at the expense of his husbands. The perfect blush that had spread so delightfully across every inch of his skin looked even more delicious in the warm light that streamed through the blinds. Matthew had been waiting all day for this, and now with the sight before him, he was struggling not to come at the mere sight. Will took him as deep as he was able until he could take no more. His jaw was wide and willingly as Matthew pressed his fingers into messy hair and tried to fuck into him that last little bit. And then Will let a deep, desperate moan, looking at him with clear eyes and Matthew felt his orgasm teetering on the edge.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so perfect like this,” Matthew growled, pistoning his hips into the wet heat. Will’s whimpers vibrated around his length and he gripped tightly against the dark curls as his come began to spill down his throat.
Matthew pulled back, looked at his pretty boy’s slack jaw covered in spit and come, the blossoming red that painted his cheeks. He was perfect. Grabbing needily at the pendant around his neck, Will pulled Matthew’s mouth down to meet him. Long strokes of Will’s tongue against his own made Matthew taste himself on Will’s tongue. With each of Hannibal’s thrusts, Will was drawing closer to climax again. He could tell by the way Hannibal’s fingers dug bruises into his hips the man was ensuring he was ever-aware of his presence bearing down on him.
Matthew pulled himself away from those sweet lips, only to watch the fucked-out expression on his face.
“I guess you don’t want to replace us after all, baby,” He cooed, pushing Will’s bangs from his eyes.
He did not have the energy to spit back some reply, and even if he had, he was inclined to agree. His second orgasm was drawing painfully close. Will began to moan with each of Hannibal’s harsh thrusts. Matthew captured his mouth against his own again, intent on feeling the pretty, wet moans Will was making against his mouth. It took only a few more thrusts, and gentle fingers playing at his hardened nipples before finally Will tipped over the edge. His second orgasm, untouched, ripped through him. Drier and more desperate. A fresh layer of sweat stuck to his skin and his thighs shook uncontrollably. He let out the most sinful noises, only quieted by Matthew’s tongue against his own.
Hannibal’s nails dug into the flesh of Will’s thighs as he came, undoubtedly leaving him bloody and bruised. A sight for all to admire later. As Hannibal pulled out, Matthew pulled away from the kiss, leaving Will cold and empty. The towering smirk across Mattie’s face was all the confirmation he needed that he looked as wrecked as he felt.
He was completely overwhelmed but nonetheless clambered onto his knees to meet Hannibal. Will was quick to press their mouths together to join their stuttered, shaky breaths as one. His fingers fell into soft greying hair and pulled him in until there was no space between them. Hannibal’s tongue explored Will’s mouth as if it were the first time they had ever kissed. Every taste on Will’s tongue was Hannibal’s to consume.
Hannibal’s mouth began trailing across Will’s jaw until it found itself in the perfect spot. Hannibal bent down and bit, marking Will in a direct mirror from where Matthew had marked him. His teeth felt delightfully sharp as they pierced into the supple flesh. Will let his neck lull backwards, giving itself entirely to Hannibal. His eyes fell on Matthew’s face and all he saw was joy at what he was witnessing. For a few moments longer, Hannibal continued his ministrations. Once the mark was up to his standard he let go of Will.
Hannibal was the first to leave the bed, his absence leaving a cold void next to Will as he went. As quickly as he went, he was back towels in hand.
“Will”, he said, handing one to him. Then his eyes lingered on Will’s own, filled with care and indecision. Deciding if there was a final fight worth having.
“Matthew,” he spoke flatly, offering a towel to him, too.
“Thanks, Doc,” Matthew replied, winking at Hannibal as he took it from his hands.
“Don’t try your luck, Mr Brown.”
Two in the room laughed, the third did not. Although he allowed the corners of his lips to crease slightly upwards.
They all turned to cleaning themselves as well as they could. Will gave up first; they would shower later or only get dirty again. Leaning back against the headboard, he closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Soon, Hannibal came back to his side of the bed. A comforting warmth despite the heat that lingered in the ever-humid air.
There was a resounding crack that shot through the peace. Followed quickly by a thud, Will’s eyes shot open to see Mattie’s open hand aimed at the wall. The black toy sat glumly on the floor in shattered pieces. Matthew’s eyebrow quirked at the lazy fake-annoyance that soured across Will’s face.
“Well, it’s not a suitable replacement for anyone now,” he chimed with a shrug, before settling down into Will’s left side.
Hannibal only hummed in mild approval before nestling closer to Will. Will doubted he would offer him such a gift again. However, he was eager to see what the next attempt would be to try and claim the already-taken part of himself as his own. One day Hannibal might realise Will was not splitting himself in two and giving half to Matthew and half to him. He was a whole person, still existing even when there were two people who claimed his love.
“But I was going to have you use it on each other... See who could make the other come the quickest,” Will let himself sound desperate and needy like a whore.
Matthew’s eyes were erratic with the thought, finding no shame or negative in what Will was suggesting. Hannibal’s fingernails pressed harshly into Will’s shoulder, a warning, but no one could mistake the way his dick twitched as Will said it.
He held them closer, uncaring of the mess or the heat. Nothing in the world would ever take away these moments of peace and quiet where he was certain of everything that had led him right to this point.
In a few days, he would stumble across a newspaper Hannibal had so lovingly left for him, would read the gruesome article of the hanged man on the cross mere towns away, blood drained from the wrists. The reimagined image of Matthew’s first gift to Will, only this time he had succeeded in completing the offering.
The next page showcased the artistry of an entirely different creator. Found strung high from the ground amid a grove of oranges, a blindfolded Cupid held out his bow, high and mighty despite his blinding. What Cupid does not know is where his arrow points- to his own heart sat to the left. The heart was removed with surgical precision, the skin of the back pulled away to create Cupid’s wings. Anyone who dared to move away the white silk would see that behind it no eyes remained. The artist had ensured Cupid would never see again.
Both the men he chose to call husband would be scolded for their brazen actions. The killing was of little concern, but they were supposed to be in hiding. For now, he would let the men on either side huff out of frustration or amusement or whatever they wanted and know he was right where he wanted to be. And he would love them all the same.
‘Love’ to Will Graham? Love was a messy four-letter word that he could never get enough of.