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It was a warm night- unseasonably so. The rushing waves from the ocean as it crashed against the shoreline of the Italian Riviera was a steadying symphony cascading through the opened windows of the bedroom. A pleasant backdrop of sound punctured by the decadent and desperate noises spilling out from between Will's lips. They were muffled by the tie that had hastily been stuffed in his mouth, his jaw stretched wide around it. Spit trailed from the corners of his mouth and smeared across his chin.
The months that followed their silent retreat from the states had been filled with many new and wonderful discoveries. Yet none had been so thrilling as learning just how responsive Will was. Touch-starved and aching for an affection he was deprived of for too long, he reacted to each touch with such unfettered want. He keened beneath Hannibal as if receiving a sacrament only he could offer.
Even his hesitance and uncertainty regarding the physical turn their relationship had taken was quick to dissolve. It crumbled with swift ease, just as he had that first night, reduced to a whimpering and mewling mess of slumped limbs and bitten lips.
What a privilege it was to see such sweet destruction, a systemic shattering of his defenses and Hannibal had turned their trysts into a game. Pushing Will further into the depth of pleasure, trying to make each encounter more sinful and pleasing than the last.
"You're going to kill me," Will had said only a handful of nights prior, the words tangled in the pillow his face was buried in- still trembling from the aftershocks of his release. Releases, Hannibal amended, grinning with primal glee at the memory of the night. The first time he had pushed Will to orgasm twice and already he hungered for more of it.
What sweet torture he offered, and if Will was to die between the firm press of Hannibal's body and the disheveled sheets then it would be with a smile on his lips.
Still, there were certain limitations to his indulgences. And Will was entirely too loud for the modest-sized home- his moans and sobs crept out into the hall like a phantom presence. He tried to be mindful of the utterances, looking properly contrite when Hannibal admonished him and swatted at him with a stern reminder of the young woman sleeping just down the hall.
“Shall I gag you to ensure our sweet Abigail isn’t disturbed by all your lewd and pretty sounds?” Hannibal had taunted once, blinking curiously at the way Will shuddered with the suggestion, his moans turned breathless. The tie was introduced regularly then, one hand gripping Will’s curls as Hannibal roughly pulled his head back, the other shoving the accessory between his teeth, saliva already pooling under his tongue. Spit stained the expensive silk fabric, indentations dimpling and tearing against it from where Will bit down too fiercely against the gag. Yet he had no desire to update to something more appropriate for the task, enjoying the way such luxuriant trimmings looked cluttered in Will’s mouth and swallowing his cries.
There were even some ties purchased with the sole intent of cramming them between his lips in the waning hours of the night. Colors and patterns that had caught Hannibal’s eyes as he passed them in the shop, taken by the thought of how lovely they would look between supple, heart-shaped lips. Steel-colored blues and vibrant indigos were especially beautiful against his fair skin, and Will had since learned the promises that came with the sight of the black gift bag Hannibal’s preferred store used to wrap the purchases. A Pavlovian response, and Hannibal was more than happy to nourish it, plying Will with such gifts.
Will cared little for the more standard gifts lovers gave each other, but he accepted these offerings with wide eyes and a harsh anticipatory swallow.
What pleasure Hannibal derived in the simple act of giving, and he hummed with delight as he leaned back from where he sat, appreciating the curve of Will’s spine as he sat astride him. They were on the edge of the bed, the soles of Hannibal’s feet planted firmly on the ground while Will’s own slid up and down the length of his calves. He writhed on Hannibal’s lap, his throat fluttering beneath Hannibal’s palm where it was clasped in a loose hold- not enough to restrict his airflow, though Will would hardly complain if he did. More a threat than it was a danger and even the firm presence was enough to make him desperate with need.
The hand not wound over Will’s throat sat on his hip, holding him steady as he rode Hannibal’s cock in reckless, uneven bounces. He was still so clumsy with such an act, unfamiliar with the rhythm and stretch of his body as it molded around the intrusion yet his attempts were earnest. Commendable, and there was a delight in such awkward fumbling. A possessiveness stirred within Hannibal’s chest that he was the only one to receive such a gift.
“Look at how pretty you look on my cock. Taking what you want like the greedy whore you are,” Hannibal murmured, pressing the words between kisses against the nape of Will’s neck. A jarringly tender action, so different from the crude words, and Will whined against the makeshift-gag, his whimpers tangled within the folds. His hands were grasping, uncertain of where to settle- clinging to Hannibal’s knees, his thighs. Gripping the bed for purchase.
“Such a starved and needy thing, yet you ride me like a virgin,” Hannibal chided, a mocking lilt to his tone that was just shy of cutting. Still skewed towards his fondness for Will. His desire to please him so fervently.
Another whimper, one end of the tie slipping free so it hung from his lips like the tail of a snake. Or a noose.
Perhaps a proper gag would need to be purchased after all; he was still too loud.
Too loud, but it was also too late, and Hannibal stilled, his muscles turning rigid, at the scent that crept against him. Nearly overwhelmed by the smell of Will- sweat and the peppery heat of his arousal, his skin still rich with salt from his evening swim. But just on the periphery of his senses was something milder. A sweeter musk; the scent of coconut-laden shampoo and feminine arousal.
He glanced to the door of the room, keeping his gaze low so that the motion would go unnoticed by both parties. He was unsurprised to find it ajar, his lips pulling into a frown at the darkened gap between the door and the frame- only shadows visible beyond the room. Will had an awful habit of keeping doors open, not wanting to lock the dogs away from any part of the home and it was not the first time such carelessness extended to their private room.
Was it the first time Abigail had taken advantage of such, though? Lingering in the halls, unable to avert her gaze as she fed whatever perverse curiosity kept her in place? Did she watch them often? If not from outside the frame of their door than from the visions splayed out across her eyelids, vividly contorting them into such an obscene performance?
Did she press up against their shared wall, straining to hear the sounds Will supplied too readily?
Did she touch herself?
It was a scandalous thought, one which warmed his veins and made his hips drag upward in a harsh buck against Will- a shout coming from behind the tie, the saliva gleaming wetly on his chin. He scrambled against Hannibal, unaware of their audience hidden behind the door and Hannibal considered letting him languish in such ignorance. Indulging Abigail’s curiosity by letting her watch uninterrupted as Will rode him with more zeal than he did talent. Hannibal’s cock disappearing within the lithe form while Will’s own bobbed against the planes of his stomach; red and swollen, precome smearing his flesh.
Yet it was rude to observe others so wantonly, even if the forgotten door seemed an invitation. She was being incredibly naughty, and his thin lips pulled into a wicked smile as he thought of a punishment appropriate for such behavior.
“You know, Will,” he began, his voice stern as it carried across the room- loud enough that Abigail would hear without needing to cant forward on her toes. “I’ve told you time and time again you must be quiet. Yet you insist on moaning and crying out like the whore you are.” His hand tightened around Will’s throat, feeling the knot bob beneath his touch with the last breath as his head craned back. His eyes fluttered closed, lashes dampened from the tears of his pleasure. Hannibal leaned forward, Will’s back flush against his chest as he lowered his lips to his ears and whispered, “now look at what you’ve done. You’ve woken up Abigail.”
He was limp in Hannibal’s hold, understanding slow to pierce the haze of his lust-addled mind. But when it did, he startled, trying to lurch forward only for Hannibal to hold him tighter, winding his arm around Will’s middle and pressing tighter against his windpipe. Will choked on the stale air filling his lungs, yet Hannibal ignored him, and he turned to the door to say, “you may as well come in now, darling.”
Will writhed in his lap at the words- the writhing of a man trying desperately to free himself rather than the earlier grinding against Hannibal’s cock. Seconds passed, Abigail no doubt hesitating in the hall as she considered whether to slink into her room and play dumb or submit to Hannibal.
She, smartly, chose the latter, and the door creaked open with her tentative step inside.
But she did remained by the door, stepping no further than two feet into the room before she came to a halt, her hands clasped behind her back. Her head hung low in shame, her face shielded from view by the dark trusses of hair- though Hannibal could see the flush darkening her fair skin. Will flinched once more in his lap at her entrance, pulling his legs inward so his toes curled on Hannibal’s knees, doing his best to conceal himself.
Not as if it mattered; Abigail’s gaze burned holes into the floor, her weight shifted back and forth. She wore only her pajamas; a tank top, her pebbled nipples visible beneath the cotton fabric and a pair of thin shorts that were dampened in the center.
“Well?” Hannibal began, his voice chiding as though reprimanding a child. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?”
She didn’t look up even as she spoke. “I’m sorry. I heard a strange noise, and I went to make sure you were okay. The door was open and I-” she trailed off, the tangle of words turned into a mumble.
Hannibal frowned and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Oh, Abigail. I think you knew very well what you heard when you went looking, didn’t you? You’re hardly a little innocent,” he cooed, pausing for several seconds to consider Will on his lap. His muscles were pulled so tautly they nearly trembled, the constriction around Hannibal’s cock almost painful. He loosened his hold on Will’s throat and a small smile flickered on his lips when a gasp buried into the tie. “This isn’t the first time you’ve spied on us, is it?”
It was more a guess than it was a certainty, yet she nodded all the same, glancing up once to offer a doleful look of regret before hastily dropping her gaze once more. As though she had forgotten the compromising scene before her until she lifted her face. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong but I just…” her voice hitched, syllables and tears mingling together and she once more trailed off. She swallowed, her words small when she asked, “are you going to kill me?”
“I would never harm you, Abigail. You’re like a daughter to us,” Hannibal said, more for the indignant noise that Will let out at the pseudo-familial ties bound between them than any genuine concern for them. “It’s only natural to be curious. Healthy, even.”
She glanced up, surprise etched into her features. She did not glance away immediately, her eyes flicking over the scene for a furtive moment before she once more averted them to a corner of the room. A repetitive motion, and a performative one. Pretending to be considerate even as her own hunger won out. “You’re not mad?” she asked.
“No, I’m not. Though I will ask that if you choose to leave you be considerate enough to give us our privacy,” he said, and he finally released hold of Will’s throat entirely to smooth his hand across it in a petting motion.
She caught the slip of his tongue, her brow knitted. “Choose to leave?”
“You are more than welcome to stay,” he said, bucking his hips forward to drive his cock deeper into Will, certain to hit the sensitive spot within him he was already well familiar with. Will’s answering moans swallowed whatever protest may have sat on his tongue, his legs falling from their restrained position until they dropped parted and limp- exposing him completely. His erection had flagged, soft where it sat against his thigh.
Hannibal kept his hand draped over Will’s throat in a position of repose and reached for the softening length with the other- giving it a firm squeeze that made Will wriggle his hips.
Abigail said nothing- frozen in place as she watched with unabashed intrigue now. Her lips parted, and the scent of her arousal grew heavier. An overwhelming and cloying perfume.
“If you’re going to stay, come here,” Hannibal said, his tone soft despite the command.
She hesitated, shifting her weight on her heels before taking slow steps to cross the room. She stopped before them, though she remained at what she deemed a safe enough distance away- only bridging the distance when Hannibal beckoned her forward. She was trying desperately- admirably, really- not to let her eyes fall to where Hannibal was working Will’s cock in slow and languid tugs of his fist.
He smiled, sliding his hand from Will’s neck to grasp at his crown of curls, tugging his hair back so the other man was forced to meet Abigail’s gaze. “The tie serves no purpose now. Might you remove it?”
She shucked in a breath and pursed her lips, her chin tipped in a curt nod. She reached a hand outward, her slender fingers pinched on the end of the tie that had fallen loose and she gave it a lazy pull. It stretched out, the fabric dropping to Will’s lap as she pulled it loose- a trail of saliva following the most sodden parts of it.
He clamped his mouth shut, his jaw clenched with motion and shift he gave it. Then, a pink tongue darted out to lick his lips. He looked as though there was something he wished to say, words that evaded him as his gaze shifted between Abigail and Hannibal, rolling to the back of his head to catch sight of the other man. He had grown so accustomed to such acceptance during their time together, his experience so limited that it was simply easier to let Hannibal take control. To move and act as Hannibal commanded; his obedience would be rewarded with pleasure, and he never protested or attempted to twist the roles.
And even now, with such a new and strange variable, he still defaulted to Hannibal. He was made weak and passive in the roles they played within the walls of their bedroom, and he clutched for Hannibal to take the lead.
It made Hannibal’s chest clench, something ache within him that only further inspired his want to spoil Will. His want to offer him whatever gifts and pleasure he could, thrilling in the trust that made Will so pliant.
Hannibal leaned forward, using his hold on Will’s hair to pull him into position as he pressed their lips together. Chaste kisses that lingered, letting his breath fan against his skin with each exhalation. “If you’ll trust me, beloved, I promise you will enjoy yourself.”
Will said nothing, offering a slow and stiff nod that made the edges of Hannibal’s mouth tip upward in a smile. He pressed one final kiss to his lips before he sat back, turning to the young woman. He met Abigail’s gaze- clouded with lust, the tie held limply in her hand. “Abigail,” he said, drawing her focus. “Will you be observing or participating?”
She blinked at the prompt, her mouth opening and closing several times as incoherent utterances fell from her tongue. She was uncertain and unprepared for the turn her voyeurism had taken this evening, and she looked to Hannibal for just as much guidance as Will had.
“If you’d like to participate, drop to your knees,” he said, lowering his voice to a husk that made a shudder creep along Will’s spine, a low whine vibrating in his chest.
She flushed at the command, though wasted no time in doing as she was told- the tie discarded to the floor, forgotten. Her hands reached out, palms warm and clammy where they settled on Hannibal’s knees, and she fitted herself in the space between them. She glanced up at them, her gaze expectant, and he nearly cooed at the display of obedience. So much like Will; so eager to please.
“Surely you know by now just how loud and responsive our dear Will can be. Have you touched yourself to his cries?” he asked, tightening his hold on Will’s cock while he continued to jerk him. As if to inspire the moans and whimpers they spoke of, Will bit down but was unable to stop the cries that sliced between his clenched teeth. He was still tense, his back rigid where it pressed against Hannibal; still hesitant and uncertain of Abigail’s presence but he trusted Hannibal all the same.
She pursed her lips, a blush painted across her cheeks. “Yes,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet with the confession. Like a sinner to the holy, shame blossomed over her features. Pretty if plain.
Hannibal hummed, hooking a chin over Will’s shoulder to better watch her. “And in the fantasies you conjure to accompany it, are you once more a mere voyeur? Or are you responsible for his moans?” he asked, a brow quirked.
“I-” she began, amputating whatever admission had nearly fallen from her tongue as she chewed her lip. Her gaze was unfettered now, eyes widened as she devoured the sight of the two men linked before her. A hand slid from where it curled on Hannibal’s knee, fingertips brushing against the delicate skin of his inner thigh as she traced upward.
Hannibal hissed when her touch grazed over his sac, curious fingers that gripped the base of his cock- her thumb brushing over the rim that was stretched around him.
“Fuck,” Will spat, his hole sensitive to the touch. His cock twitched in Hannibal’s grasp, at full-hardness once more.
Abigail startled at the gasp and glanced up at Will- devouring the sight of his bare chest as it rose and fell with an uneven breath. His swollen lips parted with each hasty exhale, his skin glossy with the thin sheen of sweat. It emboldened her, nourished her in the same way his cries and responsiveness fed Hannibal and her other hand shifted from where it remained on Hannibal’s knee to settle on Will’s thigh- fingers massaging the flesh.
“I like to imagine they’re for me,” she answered, still rubbing the point where the two men met while her other hand crept forward, fingers overlaying Hannibal’s own- holding the hand that held Will’s cock. “For you. Both of us.”
Hannibal grinned at her exploratory touches- each panted breath and sigh resonated in his ear as Will turned to bury his face in Hannibal’s neck. “They are,” he encouraged. He pulled his hand away to settle it on Will’s hip, leaving only Abigail’s small hand to wrap around the weeping cock.
She considered it as though unsure, a thumb dragging gently across the seam of the crown. Will hissed in response, a weak sob caught from behind his teeth. Precome was smeared with the action, and she tipped her head to the side as she dragged her hand up and down in slow and tentative measures.
"Abigail," Hannibal asked, his gaze half-lidded as he looked down at her. Her face was painted pink, muted intrigue worrying the set of her brow. "Are you a virgin?"
Her blush deepened at the prompt, crimson splattered across her chest until it crept over the arch of her cheeks. Flustered, she pursed her lips. "Um...I never...never had the chance," she muttered. "My dad was protective." She punctuated the statement with a humorless laugh, shirking the weight of her trauma beneath the casket of a long-dead man.
Hannibal hummed, leaning forward to cup her cheek in his palm, swooping his thumb down the fevered flesh. "Don't worry. I will help you," he promised. He lifted his hand to smooth it through the dark tousles of her hair until he was cradling the back of her head. "And if at any point you'd like to stop, you need only say so. Alright, darling?"
She swallowed thickly and gave an emphatic nod.
He grinned, using the grip on her head to guide her forward- closer to Will’s erection. Fully hard now, it was dampened with precome that slipped down the arc of his length and matted the dark hair curled around the base. She darted her tongue out in a furtive lick before she parted her lips, licking a slow strip up his cock. Experimental, as though testing the waters of such an act.
Will choked on a gasp, a shudder trembling down his spine. “Please,” he begged, a word he said often as if their bed was an altar and the single word a prayer. Hannibal enjoyed the pleas, the whispered and gasped words of want and desire, and they came naturally to the younger man now. As readily as his moans and shaky exhalations.
Abigail seemed to enjoy the plea as well, her eyes flashing when she glanced up at Will’s face- still hidden in Hannibal’s throat. Yet she did not relent her gaze, turning it instead to Hannibal before she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the tip of Will’s erection.
Hannibal’s hold on her hair remained as she bobbed up and down, almost torturously slow and he was uncertain if the maddening pace was for her inexperienced comfort or for the sheer delight of watching Will squirm in Hannibal’s lap. Will writhed, whining pathetically at the not-enoughness of her torment.
“Breathe through your nose,” Hannibal said, a warning before he slowly pulled her down. Gently, considerate of the act which was entirely new yet thrilling to her. Still, she gagged at the unfamiliar intrusion and pushed back against Hannibal’s hold.
He allowed it, running his fingers through her hair before he dropped his hand away. “You’ll want to relax your throat, he can get a bit hasty when he’s enjoying himself. Best to be prepared,” he offered, chuckling when Will let out an indignant huff. If there were any words of protest he was preparing to say, they were forgotten when Abigail returned to the task, emboldened by Hannibal’s words.
Her hesitance was abandoned in favor of sating her curiosity and the innate desire to please one so thoroughly. She was clumsy as she lavished Will’s cock, yet Will didn’t seem to mind, the tension eased from his muscles with only a few passes of her furtive tongue.
Her earnestness rose to meet Will’s desperation, and her head bobbed with her bravado. Eager, she devoured him, and he trembled beneath the attention. His feet scrambled as he sought for purchase and his hips met her mouth in messy and fumbling thrusts.
He hastily pulled back as if in apology, only to spear himself on Hannibal’s cock.
He was whole and complete with Hannibal buried within him, and the wet warmth swallowing him down was almost too much.
His cries were pitched and fevered, unburdened now that there was simply no use in keeping them to himself. High-pitched mewling and indecipherable pleas were lost in the jumble of his moans. His hands were restless, and he reached for Abigail only to pull back in trepidation, as though touching her might somehow distort a boundary that had long since been abandoned. A strange reluctance to calcify her in the role of lover even as she lavished his cock with such attention.
‘That will hardly do,’ Hannibal thought with crooked amusement. He clasped one of Will’s hands in his own and brought it to cradle the back of Abigail’s head.
Will whined at the forced contact. He made one pathetic and half-hearted attempt to pull his hand back, still clutching to whatever facade he had that he was a good and noble man.
A facade that was quick to shatter, and his fingers squeezed her scalp when it settled in place. Two squeezes, then he used the touch to hold her closer to him.
She gagged at the sudden intrusion against her throat, and Will’s head fell back with a moan.
How violent Will could be in the throes of such pleasure. He would drive his cock as far down Hannibal's throat as resistance would allow, settling amid the pulsing muscle as it convulsed in an attempt to push him out. Such moments were one of the few instances in which he was less passive- almost aggressive, feral, as he rode Hannibal's face with vigor. One hand laced over his bulging throat to feel each thrust, the other holding onto Hannibal with an ironclad grip.
His restraint in not subjecting Abigail to such brutality was admirable. His jaw clicked with the force of his clench, the grind of his teeth an audible sound. His hips twitched and jerked in an aborted thrust before he pressed more firmly against Hannibal, trying to hold still in his lap.
The fingers which would otherwise tug on smooth locks and hold Hannibal's head in place were instead brushing through her hair, threaded between the long waves. It trembled with the restraint, his brow wrinkled as he tried desperately to be a still and kind recipient.
How beautiful he looked, captured in such a suspended moment; pinched between the two fragments of his being. The spectrum of humanity he often teetered upon, uncertain of his own place on the scale.
Hannibal tipped his head forward to press a kiss on the apple of Will’s cheek- the part untouched by the manicured facial hair. Will startled at the gesture, his lashes fluttering at the disruption to his thoughts. But he leaned into it, seeking more of the affection.
Hannibal smiled, offering one more chaste kiss before he pulled away.
“Are you enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked, the words a low murmur; quiet so they would not be heard by the woman kneeling before them as if in supplication.
Will finally opened his eyes, keeping them half-lidded and shadowed. Guilt-laden, pulled into two halves of pleasure and depravity but he did offer a reluctant nod. “Yes,” he hissed, his head falling back once more; the word both an answer to the question and a pleasured moan of approval.
Hannibal nuzzled against him as he reached down between them, tapping his fingers to the crown of Abigail’s head. “Get up, please,” he asked.
Will whimpered when she pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting her red and swollen lips to the bulbous head of his erection. She blinked up at Hannibal, her own face blank in the hazy bliss of her lust. Confusion etched onto her features, but she did as she was told, gripping Hannibal’s thighs to push herself to a stand.
She stood expectantly, awaiting further direction.
“Good girl,” he cooed. His smile turned wicked when she inhaled sharply, her shoulders drawn together with a shiver. “Undress.”
She did, disrobing quickly. Her pajamas were tossed to an unceremonious pile on the floor, her torso colored with the same blush that warmed her cheeks. Her breasts were small, lovely in their modest size, and her nipples were hard, the color of a wilting rose. She stood awkwardly, her hands clasped in front of her before she dropped them to her side; perhaps realizing how foolish it was to be so self-conscious in her nudity.
It was a rather foregone point by now.
Hannibal reached out to curl his large hands around Abigail’s hips, pulling her close- urging her to join them on the bed. She did in earnest, clambering up until her legs spread and knees pinched on either side of Hannibal’s hips. It was not an easy maneuver, the position forcing her to find support more on Will’s lap than the bed itself and instinctively Will reached for her, cupping her bottom to hold her in place.
She gasped at the firm touch, sitting on Will’s knees. She grasped for his shoulders and dugs her nails into his flesh. They were painted, vibrant magenta that chipped away in flakes, the rounded edges of the nails chewed in a nervous habit.
A cluster of limbs, and Hannibal snaked his hand between them, delving his fingers between her legs. She hissed at the touch, the muscles of her belly contracting as her nails raked pink slivers into Will’s flesh.
“Are my fingers the first to touch you?” he asked, slipping them between the shaven folds. “Other than your own, of course,” he added after a moment, seeking out the slick entrance. Warm, the scent of her arousal was a bright and overwhelming burst at the dampness he found there.
Her breath hitched, eyes pinched closed. She nodded. It was no surprise that she abstained from dating in her youth, her life already so fraught; struggling to maintain the tenuous balance of her home life. Secrets that threatened to splinter through her facade of normalcy, a balancing act that had long since come tumbling down.
He hummed, appreciative of the fact. His thumb found the sensitive bundle just beneath the hood of her lips, a long finger delving between the wet folds. Her head fell forward, her face burying within Will’s neck and she shuddered, letting out a low whine that Will mirrored, his hips bucking up.
His cock strained between them, pink and swollen- still glossy with saliva.
“So impatient,” Hannibal chided him, punctuating the reprimand with a kiss laid upon the base of Will’s throat. “Hold her still,” he instructed before sliding a finger fully within her, the velvet softness clenching around him with the intrusion.
Abigail shucked in a breath, stiffening in Will’s lap at the unfamiliar touch- delving deeper than her own fingers. A slight pressure, a pain that was eased and ebbed by her want- clitoris swollen as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against it in delicate and teasing circles. By the time he slipped a second finger within her, she was keening, broken pleas falling from her bitten lips.
“Please, please,” he managed to decipher from the tangle of words.
“Please what?” he asked, unrelenting as he worked his fingers in and out of her in a quickening pace, crooking them forward where he knew the sensitive nerves sat within. Her hips followed the motion in uneven, fumbling thrusts- demanding more.
“Please,” she said once more, swallowing thickly before she added, “I can take him.”
Hannibal crooked a brow. “Are you certain?” he asked, though he was already pulling from her, smirking as her hips rocked forward in protest of the loss.
She gave an emphatic nod.
“Very well.” They worked in tandem then, Hannibal pinching the base of Will’s cock to hold him steady as Will pulled her flush against him, guiding her to him. She lowered down in a slow and stuttering motion, pausing midway to release an exhale with the sear of the stretch. Far larger than Hannibal’s two fingers had been, and he smoothed a hand down the curve of her spine in encouragement.
“You’re doing so well, darling,” he said, ignoring the flutter of sensation as Will writhed- pressing against Hannibal as though resisting the desire to buck forward and fill Abigail all at once. An action which only further speared him on Hannibal’s cock and his eyelids were twitching even as they remained closed- his lips trembling and parting on shaking breaths. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, his senses clouded by both Hannibal filling him and Abigail enveloping him.
A sight as decadent as it was scandalous, and Hannibal’s lips traced the arch of Will’s throat until they brushed over the shell of his ear. His voice was a warm flutter of air as he whispered, “How does it feel? Taking her virginal cunt? Do you fill her as well as I fill you?”
Will shuddered at the words, the sound tapered into a low moan. His fingers twitched where they clasped around Abigail's hip, using the leverage to lower her down until she was fully seated on his cock. He gasped, his head falling back to rest against Hannibal's shoulder, his eyes lax and closed in bliss at the tight heat engulfing him. "God yes...she feels so good," he whined.
Hannibal hummed, dragging his teeth across the exposed neck, feeling the pulsing thrum of Will's carotid beneath his lips. "What a spoiled thing you are. Was my cock not enough for you?" He bucked forward as if in punctuation of the tease, hitching the younger man up with a sharp inhale. "What a greedy little thing." His lips parted, teeth sinking more fully into the cream-colored flesh. He lapped a tongue against him in between ferocious suckling, tasting the brine of his sweat.
Will choked on a sound, grinding himself against Hannibal's lap as he moved in uneven thrusts- spearing himself deeper on the cock within him before pulling away to plunge within Abigail. Her own gasps were soft punctures of sound, sharp and sudden intakes of breath simultaneously given in pleasure and discomfort. So unused to being filled, stretched around the foreign girth.
Hannibal reached for her even as he continued to lavish Will's throat, his hands first lacing over the other man's to mirror the grip on her hip before sliding up. She shivered as his fingers brushed over her flanks, pressing against the jut of her ribcage. His fingers tapped against each rounded rib before caressing her modest breasts in large hands. Soft and weighted, he held them with delicate- almost reverent care- thumbs smoothing slow circles over the hardening nipples.
She moaned at the touch, arching her back and rising unsteadily on her knees before dropping back down- riding Will in tentative motions.
"That's a good girl," he praised, his voice rising over Will's groan of pleasure. Will's grip on her hips tightened, his own fingers digging into the pale flesh as he used the touch to guide her. He lifted her up only to lower her down, plunging as deep within her as he could.
“Fuck,” she hissed, the word slanted between her gritted teeth.
“Language,” Hannibal chided with perverse humor. He pinched a nipple and gave it a firm twist in admonishment. The word was pressed against Will’s pulse point before Hannibal returned to biting the exposed throat. Red blossomed over pale skin, saliva glistening in the low light of the room.
Will scoffed, an indignant and choked sound that was cut off when Abigail leaned forward- placing a soft and tentative kiss to his bitten lips. He startled, stiffening at the intimate touch. He was still a moment, uncertain of how to respond- the gesture so far removed from the otherwise salacious turn of the evening.
Yet he did move, eventually. A moment of uncertainty before he wound his arms across her waist to pull her close. He returned the kiss, one hand tracing upward to hold her cheek and he tipped his head to the side to deepen the angle. The sound was wet and obscene, punctured by their shared and hitched breath.
He held her close and ended the kiss to drag his lips down her jaw- biting her chin in his trail down her neck. She sighed and dropped her head, exposing the pale column of her throat. Flushed, unblemished skin, and Will leaned forward to devour her flesh with a growl.
His saliva glistened on her throat, pink blossoms unfurling in his descent; like the petals of a rose. Her hair tumbled down her back, and she looped an arm around his neck. She held him for leverage, her hips rolled forward in movements that grew more certain- more confident.
Will keened at it, rising to meet her. He thrust up, slow yet powerful bucks upward to spear as deep within her as he could, sliding back down to impale himself on Hannibal’s cock.
Hannibal groaned, his own pleasure hot and fluid where it pooled in his groin. He leaned back, propped up on his hands, and admired Will through his half-lidded eyes. How beautiful he looked, working himself so ardently on Hannibal’s cock- pleasuring himself and his lovers with each thrust of his hips.
“So beautiful. Taking what you want,” Hannibal praised, tracing a finger down the delicate bend of Will’s spine. The muscles quivered beneath the touch, his chest heaved with his sighs. He was close; precariously so. Tension was once more wound within his muscles as they tightened; drawn like the string of a bow pulled before the release.
“I can tell you’re getting close,” Hannibal purred.
Will’s skin puckered with gooseflesh at the brush of the words, and he shuddered.
Hannibal could feel each tremble of his muscles beneath his flesh; each tight constriction in anticipation. Will’s thrusts turned erratic in his reckless chase for release, clenched tight around Hannibal’s cock and his head dropped back with a strangled moan.
“Come, Will!” he said, the words raised like a command; not quite a shout but hardly the gentle and softened tone he so often spoke in.
Will gasped, his hips jerked with the spasms that rippled through him. He arched forward to pump deep within Abigail, the obscene squelch of his thrusts becoming louder with each second that passed. Her arousal and his come mingled together, spilled between them to stain her thighs.
Abigail sighed, her brows furrowed into a curious expression- surprised by the warmth that flooded her womb and the pulse of his cock within her. Her arms slackened where they wound around Will’s neck, and she stilled on his lap- held in place by his grip. He grunted in the final throes of his release, his thrusts faltered until he too stilled- squirming with the slow undulations of Hannibal below him.
An incoherent tangle of sound fell from between his lips, and he shucked in a breath- licking his lips before he repeated, “too much.”
Hannibal huffed out a curt laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss at the base of Will’s neck. A moment of reprieve, like a sigh; Hannibal would allow him the time to gather himself once more; to wind down from the plummet of his pleasure. But Hannibal was far from done, his lips twisting into a grin that went unseen; pressed between Will’s trembling shoulder blades.
Abigail had fallen limp against Will, not even rising to let his softening cock slip from her. Her head rested atop his own, and Will panted against her breasts- holding her close while Hannibal kissed the knots of his spine.
Patient, he waited until Will’s breaths had evened out; until a twist of his own denied pleasure curled in his groin- his cock aching where it was still buried in Will.
“Abigail, lie down. Head at the pillows,” Hannibal instructed, disturbing the silence. The symphony of the night that had fallen over them like a shroud; the roar of the waves in the distance and the steady yet heaving breaths that filled the room.
She startled at it, lifting her head with stunned blinks before she did as she was told. She pulled off of Will with a grimace, frowning at the mess that seeped out with the rise. She kept her legs spread while she shuffled onto the bed, dropping to rest against the pillows.
They trembled, the lingering vestiges of pleasure crawling up and down her limbs, and she pinched them together after a moment. Her skin was flushed, her lips parted on her breaths and she slung an arm across her stomach- waiting for more instructions.
Pleased, Hannibal tapped his fingers against Will’s hips in a warning before he slowly pulled him off. “Come now, Will, let’s not be a selfish lover.”
Will stumbled, unsteady on his feet as he rose to a stand. He reached out with one hand, curling it around Hannibal’s shoulder for support. Hannibal clasped it, his other hand coming to rest on the small of Will’s back to hold him in place. Hannibal stood, using his touch to guide Will back to the bed- situating him before Abigail.
Will knelt down on the mattress, the bed dipping with his weight as he crawled toward her- dazed, still trembling with the aftershocks of his own orgasm- yet he understood Hannibal’s intentions. Her knees were raised, clasped tightly together- perhaps self-conscious of the spend that seeped from her, smeared across her inner thighs. But Will settled his hands on her knees and gently pried them apart.
He murmured, a low praise between his swollen lips, and his palms crept up her inner thighs as he rolled her legs out. He caressed her, his head bowing down to place kisses on the unmarred flesh.
For all Hannibal’s teasing, Will was an attentive lover- even if he preferred to be manhandled, for Hannibal to take what he wanted while driving Will mercilessly toward the edge. There were still moments where Will seemed determined to return the favor, a handful of mornings where Hannibal awoke to the feel of plush lips wrapped around his cock and Will blinking up at him through sleep-heavy eyes.
He was tender in his devotion, reverent; and he was shrewd in his attentions, quick to discern the touches and drag of his tongue that Hannibal enjoyed most.
He was no less focused now that it was Abigail spread out before him, and he shifted forward- propping her legs to rest on his shoulders, before he lowered his head once more. He licked up her cunt, dragging his tongue in a languid press between her folds before circling it around the swollen bud of her clitoris.
She hissed at the sensation, so different from the touch of Hannibal’s fingers, and her back arched off the bed. Her hands scrambled, as though she was uncertain of what to do with them before she tossed them over her head- gripping the pillow below.
“Good boy,” Hannibal hummed, kneeling on the foot of the bed. Instinctively, Will widened his legs- his own back arching up in a quiet plea for Hannibal to sink within him. A pretty plea, one he would have to be foolish to deny.
“How eager you are to make yourself of use,” Hannibal taunted, grasping Will’s hip in a bruising hold with one hand as the other gripped the base of his cock- guiding himself into the stretched hole. He filled him with ease, settling into Will once more until his hips were pressed flush against the curve of Will’s bottom. The space carved out within him was so perfect , as though he were made for Hannibal and Hannibal made for him in turn.
Will whined with the intrusion, his whimpers muffled into Abigail’s folds. She was breathless beneath them and her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. Her lashes fluttered across her cheek, her eyes closed and restless as she sunk deeper into the lull of pleasure. Her legs trembled where they wrapped around Will’s head, ankles hooked together so that a hollow formed in her inner thighs where the muscles protruded. Perched already on the crest of her release, and Hannibal was slow when he plunged into Will, filling him in languid thrusts.
“How lucky I am to be gifted with you both,” he said, sincerity woven tight between the words. He was lucky, his eyes bright when they fell upon his two lovers; admiring the contorted bend of their limbs and the small, pleasured moues that sat on their tongue. He adored them, the strange and perverse family he hobbled together; like left-over pieces that did not quite fit together anywhere else but made themselves at home with each other. Each of them monstrous in their own way but loved in that monstrosity.
He leaned forward, his large form draped over the pair, and he snaked an arm around Will, his fingers wrapping around his cock. It was still soft, though it twitched in Hannibal’s palm and Will offered a single, bleated whine when Hannibal tugged it in slow pumps of his fist. Jerking it - coaxing it - to hardness once more.
Will twitched with the touch, his nerves no doubt clipped and frayed on the pleasure that had mounted. The pleasure that became too much, dragged from behind his chest with each stroke of Hannibal’s fist and thrust within him.
“Once more,” Hannibal promised, his voice warm in his encouragement. “Once more, I’d like to feel you clench around my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you, beloved?”
Will groaned in answer, one of his hands sliding down from where it held Abigail’s legs. He slid two fingers within her, crooking them in rhythm to the circular twist of his tongue on her clit. Messy and lewd, her breath hitched, and she released hold of the pillow to tangle her fingers in Will’s curls.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she cried, the single word strung together in a pitched-plea. Her stomach clenched, nearing closer and closer to the edge of her release.
The bed creaked with Hannibal’s thrusts, the wooden headboard thumped against the wall each harried roll of his hips. Something coiled in the base of Hannibal’s spine, molten and charged- snapping, as though his veins were nothing more than a conduit for the heat and frission that built between them.
Skin slapped against skin, and Will’s muffled groans were drowned out by Abigail’s heaving breaths.
Her fists tugged against dark curls, and her voice was broken, stuttered over her gasps and cries. “Yes…I…I think I’m gonna-“
Her words came to an abrupt end when Will twisted his fingers, her entire body going rigid before she shuddered. Like the snap of a spring that been pulled too taut, she jerked in the waves of her pleasure- pulling Will closer even as she tried to squirm out from under him, the lapping of his tongue all at once too much.
Abigail writhed, her pitched whines loud within the quiet of the space. She trembled with the waves of pleasure, twisting in Will’s hold until her limbs stilled- eased of their restlessness- and she slumped back against the mattress with a pant.
Will tugged his head from her fists, strands of hair snagged from his scalp and left to wind around her fingers. Her legs fell from where they were propped on Will’s shoulders, limp and heavy with the leaden weight of her release, and Hannibal pressed himself against Will, his forehead resting between his shoulder blades.
Hannibal continued to pump into him, his hand dragged down Will’s length in firm pulls. A glide that was eased by the wetness that remained on his flesh- Abigail’s arousal and his own release acting as a lubricant to the touch.
“There, just focus on me now,” Hannibal said, the words low- quiet enough that Abigail would not hear them where she laid, listless and pliant across the bed. Heavy in the haze of her own bliss, and Hannibal canted his hips- angling them so each thrust of his cock brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves within Will.
“Fuck,” Will hissed, jerking with the first shudder; an undulating pulse that arced out into each of his limbs. He slumped under Hannibal, his head dropping to rest on Abigail’s thighs- still spread, petal-shaped bruises dotting the places Will had held her tight.
“Good boy,” Hannibal praised and Will twitched with the diminutive. How he enjoyed it, thrilling beneath the gentle degradations that were spoken with more adoration than they were cruelty. A fondness nestled in the words, a reminder that he was Hannibal’s, and he was safe and comforted and loved in that possession. “My boy,” Hannibal said.
He smiled at the whimper that fell from Will’s lips.
Will bucked his hips against Hannibal, awkward and fumbling from the angle he was bent into. Abigail had reached for him once more, this time sifting her fingers through his curls in a gentle tousle- playing with the locks she had already mussed up so thoroughly. A delicate touch, so jarringly different from the harsh pound of Hannibal against him, edging nearer and nearer.
“Look at you, my beloved. All flushed and fucked out,” Hannibal said, the words punched out. His jaw clenched, his muscles strained with the mounting tension. Like the twist of a screw, heat pooled in his groin and each exhalation was sliced, fragmented on his teeth. “I’ve spoiled you so well tonight, and all I want is for you to come for me. Just me, now.”
“Hannibal, I-“ was all Will managed to say, choking on his words when he shuddered and his cock pulsed in Hannibal’s palm.
He came, spurting his release across the wrinkled bedding- one of the corners of the sheet pulled away to reveal the mattress below. He constricted around Hannibal, the clench of his rim enough to drag Hannibal over the precipice with him.
“Will,” he called out, the name spoken like a sigh.
Or a prayer, offered in hushed worship of a god.
Shadows fell over his vision, darkened by the burst of his orgasm. It crackled, fissures of light illuminating the canvas of his eyes. as though they were ripped from behind his lungs. His ribs ruptured and splintered in the evisceration.
He felt wrung out, and he dragged his nails into the hollow of Will’s hip as his thrusts slowed.
Will was soft once more, and he whined, wriggling away from Hannibal’s firm grasp on his flaccid cock- come warm over the velveteen flesh.
Hannibal was not without his mercies, and he released his hold of him with a slow kiss at the top of Will’s spine. Gently, he slid out from where he burrowed into Will, come leaking in a steady drip from the furled hole.
Hannibal admired the sight of it, something possessive stirred within his chest.
These were the moments he adored the most; the beats of relief after a night of pleasure. When Will was pliant with trust and in search of Hannibal’s kinder touches and comfort. When he was marked with Hannibal’s come and the indentations of his teeth; finger-shaped bruises that formed a constellation across his pale flesh. A history of their love-making etched across him.
The moment was no less wonderful now that Abigail had joined them in it, and Hannibal smiled at the sight of Will’s hand as it smoothed across her thigh. A tender caress, one he wasn’t even aware he was indulging in. His eyes had closed, his pink and bitten lips parted on his soft exhalations.
They laid there for a moment, a tangled pile of limbs and panted breaths. Slumped together and exhausted in their release.
Hannibal was the first to rise, brushing his fingers across the contours of Will’s cheek. Will stirred at the touch, his eyes fluttering open to glance at Hannibal from a half-lidded gaze. Hannibal smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the edge of his cheek. “How spoiled you are,” he teased. His smile widened when Will only scowled in response. “We’ve just about wrung you out, haven’t we? Can you move, or do you need my help?”
“Shut up, Hannibal,” he grumbled, turning away to rub his face against Abigail’s thigh. He blinked, his lashes wisping across the ivory skin, and he placed a chaste kiss against it.
Did Will regret it? The invitation he allowed Hannibal to extend to the girl they had woven into their family?
Did the slow creep of reality bring with it a wave of regret?
Hannibal didn’t linger on it for too long; it was a matter to be discussed in private, where they wouldn’t risk hurting her feelings. A delicate matter, and he pushed himself up from the bed to stride towards the attached bath.
He rinsed his hands and dragged a damp cloth down his front- wiping away the remnants of lube and come that clung to his cock and the wiry hair at the base of it. There were no sounds that filtered in from the opposite room; through the door that had been left ajar. No fluttering of clothes as Abigail balefully dressed; no creaking of the floorboards to mark Will’s awkward retreat from the room.
He tossed the hand towel into the laundry bin and stepped out into the bedroom, coming to a halt in the doorway.
They had moved, but not to break away or slink off into the shadowed corners of the home in their embarrassment.
Instead, Will had crawled up- the dirtied blanket tossed aside and replaced by the spare that was folded over the bench at the foot of the bed. It was draped over them, clean and unwrinkled, and they held each other tightly in their arms.
Will’s head was tugged under her chin, resting against the soft curves of her breasts. His arms were wrapped tight over her slim shoulders, and she cradled his head- his fingers playing idly with his curls. They plucked at the end of the strands, pulling it taut.
How serene the pair looked, and Hannibal’s lips tipped into a small smile as he crossed the room to join them.
Will shifted when he felt the dip of the mattress and the pull of the blanket for Hannibal to slide beneath it. But he settled when Hannibal pressed against him, his back warmed by the soft tufts of hair that covered Hannibal’s chest.
Will sighed, contentedly, and Hannibal huffed out an amused breath before he reached an arm across them, folding them into a tight embrace. His fingers curled over Abigail’s shoulder, Will held between them.
Spoiled by an affection and comfort he had been denied for so long, and what a wonder it was to be the one to gift it to him.
Hannibal leaned forward, his lips brushed over Will’s temple in a phantom kiss. It sifted through his hair, and he tipped his head up- leaning into the kiss.
He dropped his head back down with a sigh and nuzzled once more into Abigail’s chest.
Perhaps he wouldn’t regret it, then. Perhaps he would delight in the love and pleasure they could share together, the three of them stripped and vulnerable in the way one could only be when they were certain that the darkest parts of them were not too dark.
There was a charming notion to it; the world was filled with people such as them.
Broken and distorted; alone and hungry.
People that lived and died in their monstrosities, monsters that were too hideous to be loved and they had been contorted in this disease.
And yet, they had managed to find each other; to love each other in a way that others would deny them.
There was beauty in it; the simple notions of a family of monsters.
A family that was all his, and Hannibal fell asleep with a slim smile on his lips.