Chapter Text
Hannibal looks on at the scene before him. He feels his muscles twitching in electric anticipation. He is not separate from the scene — in fact, he’s within touching distance. He could quite easily extend his hand and introduce himself into the situation. Now, he feels no desire to. He intends on drinking in every change in expression, every faltering breath. Nothing will go unnoticed by him, and every movement will be carefully catalogued in the extensive halls of his memory palace.
Bedelia is sprawled atop the bedsheets, a sheen of sweat slicking the smooth expanse of her body. Her chest heaves with arousal as she tangles her fingers in a mass of dark curls. Will’s body cages hers, and while he is not quite as broad as Hannibal, he is far from a weakling. Hannibal’s eyes flicker over the rippling, bending muscles in Will’s back, and the ridges of Bedelia’s ribs as she arches up against him.
He has not penetrated her yet. He has not penetrated her ever. The arrangement has been less about thoughtful conversation and carefully planned scenes and much more about primal desire, speaking without words. Perhaps Will has been hesitant to be with her so intimately on account of her relationship with Hannibal. He is, by all means, a possessive man, but he cannot imagine a greater sight than Will filling her so completely.
Will pulls back his fingers, slick and coated with her arousal, and draws them to his lips. He groans at the taste of her, and Hannibal cannot help the satisfied smile that inches across his face. Clever boy, he thinks. She is a rare and beautiful creature, and it would be wise to savour her.
Bedelia mewls in response, her cheeks abnormally flushed. She reaches deftly for Will’s cock, hard and leaking, and parts her legs for him. He is not quite as long as Hannibal, but makes up for it in girth. Perhaps more suitable for Bedelia, given her smaller stature.
Will’s eyes flick to Hannibal. He’s seeking his approval. Hannibal lowers his chin in insistence, and that’s all the permission he requires. The younger man lines himself up with Bedelia, drawing the head of his cock up over her clit. She pulls in a shuddering gasp, and Hannibal can see the way she tightens instinctively. Her delicate hand rests on the side of Will’s face, thumbing at the stubble along his jaw. Their eyes lock, and Hannibal feels his blood thrumming in his veins.
Will inches himself inside of Bedelia, and lets out a ragged moan as he feels the velvet heat of her envelop him. Hannibal watches with fervour — the way Bedelia’s back arches up, almost feline. The way Will’s head hangs for a moment. The whitening of his skin beneath Bedelia’s fingertips.
Those brief, electrifying moments as they’re learning one anothers bodies — Hannibal will keep those moments in the most intimate parts of his mind.
Will’s eyebrows are knitted as he presses the final few inches into her, his bottom lip plump and kiss-stained. The hand on his jaw snakes up into his hair, and her legs tighten around him. His signal to move.
As Will begins to fuck into her, Hannibal feels his own cock leaking, but thinks better of touching himself. It would spoil it. It’s much more pleasurable to watch. Throaty moans are pulled from Bedelia as he begins to fuck her, the sound of his panting and her wetness filling the room.
“Fuck,” Will groans, his mouth now inches from her ear.
Bedelia can only whine in response, her hand now cradling the sweaty curls at the back of his head. He’s so different, so new. The way he stretches her, the heady scent of his cheap cologne. Her eyes find Hannibal’s, and she tightens when she notices the expression on his face. It’s pride, in a way. A perverted sense of pride.
His eyes do not shift from hers, nor does he make an attempt to touch either of them. Her body moves with the effort of Will’s thrusts, and she feels him nipping a dark mark into her collarbone. Her head is positively spinning, and she feels pleasure brewing like a bruise-coloured storm in her stomach.
Will’s hand deftly finds the back of her knee, pressing it up towards her chest as he shifts his angle. The following thrust rips a broken cry from her throat. She blinks up at him, almost dizzy with pleasure as he continues his assault on her sweet spot.
“Ohhh—fuck!”
Will takes this opportunity to reach down and rub careful circles around her clit. He does not have surgeon’s hands like Hannibal — he is calloused and deft, but it is far from unwelcome.
The sound of her wetness grows more obscene by the minute, and she feels herself teetering on the brink of climax.
“Let go, Bedelia. Let him feel you come for him,” Hannibal says, and that’s all she needs. She falls over the edge, and Will follows suit. Their bodies tighten in unison, a chorus of moans echoing around the room. The world stops for a brief moment, and Hannibal feels as though he is watching something sacred unfold before him.
The two of them muddle through the haze of their orgasms, and Hannibal finally reaches out to touch. His hand turns Will’s chin to him, and he leans to kiss him. Not heated or wild with passion. Slow, and certain.
“You were exquisite,” Hannibal says, pushing Will’s sweaty curls from his face. “However, I do ask that you be a gentleman and clean her up.”
Will’s face changes for a brief moment, before his lips part and a shaky exhale follows. Hannibal turns his attention to Bedelia, and leans down to capture her lips in a kiss. She responds beautifully, her lips moving against his.
“My love,” he murmurs, thumbing at her cheekbone. “You are divine.”
Will gets to work with no fuss, the heat of his mouth finding her core. Bedelia hisses, her back arching suddenly, but she relaxes into it tentatively.
“So beautiful,” Hannibal murmurs, looking between the pair. Will looks up through heavy lashes, his tongue still clumsily lapping at her cunt. “To see the two of you this way.”
“It seems we’ve—mmh—made something of a voyeur of you,” Bedelia breathes, her forehead pressed against Hannibal’s.
“Perhaps so,” he chuckles breathlessly. “How lucky I am.”
His free hand settles on the back of Will’s head, stroking his hair, and after a few moments, he pulls a fistful of it and draws his head up.
Hannibal wastes no time in capturing Will’s lips in a deep kiss, his tongue probing into his mouth and savouring the taste of both of them on his tongue. He never fails to surprise them, and both Will and Bedelia feel a jolt of arousal shock their system.
Bedelia shifts to sit up on her knees, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to Hannibal’s shoulder before her hand drifts down to take his aching cock in hand. Hannibal grunts, a primal sound, and draws back from the kiss. She strokes him languidly, her lips parted as she watches his face. They briefly shift to Will, who looks almost dazed.
“Will, if you wouldn’t mind,” she breathes, her voice hushed and sibilant.
“My pleasure,” he exhales, and his hand wraps over Bedelia’s. The two of them find a steady rhythm, the softness of Bedelia’s hands paired with the rough brushing of Will’s thumb over the head of his cock. Hannibal believes, in this moment, he is as close to heaven as he will ever get.
Bedelia leans to kiss him, eager to taste the three of them on his tongue. Hannibal obliges, his hips rutting into their grasp. Mouths and lips become a blur as Hannibal nears orgasm — the rough stubble against his neck, the blonde hair against his shoulder. He is reduced to only sounds now — grunts, and rough gasps.
Bedelia’s eyes meet Will’s, and there is a quiet moment of delight shared. Delight in knowing that perhaps they are not so different, delight in knowing they share the unique ability to break this man down in the most intimate way.
Hannibal comes suddenly, thick ropes spilling over their hands. Every muscle in his body is taut, lips parted as sharp huffs of breath escape him. A moment of stark unity. This man, so complex and so deeply powerful, shattered beneath their hands.
The three of them fall into a mass of tangled limbs, breathing heavily. Flushed, dazed, satisfied. Fingers caressing skin. Soft, content sounds. The air is still. There is no separation — they lie there as one.
Their arrangement is hardly conventional, and there’s hardly a name for it, but it is comfortable. The three of them fall asleep that way, tangled bodies with the sheets thrown haphazardly over them. There is little to say, at least until morning.