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Will Graham was running out of clean bras, and he couldn’t wash them fast enough.

Will was lactating much more than usual, and he was soaking through his bras fast enough that he never could keep any clean ones on hand. He only had so many, and he’d even started to use his ‘special’ ones that he only wore for special occasions. He’d expected Hannibal to be mad about that, but he wasn’t. In fact, he was thrilled. It was no secret that Hannibal had a kink for ruining the nice and expensive things he bought for Will. And when Will himself did the ruining? It was even better for him.

And it was also no secret how much Hannibal loved Will’s milk.

He was almost obsessed with it in a way. In the beginning, he’d even added it to the scrambled eggs he made Will on occasion, and it took Will far longer than he’d like to admit to even realize it. Will had been utterly mortified to find out that his husband had been cooking with his breast milk for who knows how long. As embarrassing at it was at the time, Will couldn’t lie. He’d actually enjoyed knowing that the milk Hannibal used for everything was his own. So Will didn’t call him out for it. Instead, they had a long talk about it and how Hannibal should’ve just asked him in the first place.

They’d reached an agreement after that on how often he could use it, and Hannibal had been absolutely delighted that Will enjoyed it. The main rule was that he could only use Will’s milk for meals for the both of them, and not Hannibal’s dinner parties after an ‘incident’ had occurred. Let’s just say that Hannibal had been thoroughly punished for that bold action, and he hadn’t slipped up since.

So when Will’s bras and shirts were starting to get ruined, Hannibal had a field day with it.

Before, Will would normally wear a loose fitting t-shirt around the house over his bra, mostly so that it would prevent Hannibal from constantly staring at his nipples. If Will had to be honest, he’d rather just go braless, but Hannibal had proved time and time again that that just wasn’t feasible. Will didn’t want to describe Hannibal as a ‘sex fiend’ by any means, as it implied that sex was the only thing he thought about and desired. But Hannibal certainly did have a fairly high sex drive, and as much as he adored and worshiped Will’s cunt, he had a special thing for his tits, specifically his nipples. And god, did Hannibal enjoy playing with them. And they did have sex quite often, at least twice a day. But Hannibal was often more content to get Will off during the day and ignore his own arousal, as he all but worshiped the ground Will walked on.

They had sort of a routine that they’d established over the years, with Will more often than not taking control during sex. Will would lounge around the house and do his own daily routine, and Hannibal would be at the ready whenever Will desired a quickie. And Will did, quite a bit. Hannibal’s libido was bad enough, but Will’s? Let’s just say he would be better described as the sex fiend. Hannibal was unfairly good at eating pussy, and he bragged about it whenever he could. So of course Will made good use of that skill and regularly ended up with Hannibal kneeling between his thighs while Will was lost in a book. He’d have his book in one hand and his other hand in Hannibal’s hair, petting through it as Hannibal lazily licked at his cunt. If Heaven existed, then Will imagined that it felt like Hannibal between his legs on those lazy mornings.

Will normally pumped at dawn before Hannibal woke up so that he would have plenty of Will’s milk to use for the day, stockpiling a few days worth at a time so that Will could take occasional breaks from it. He made it a point that Hannibal couldn’t drink it straight from him, as Will still felt a little weird about it. Just the thought of Hannibal sucking his milk straight from his tits made Will feel slightly uncomfortable. It also made him incredibly horny, but Will did his best to ignore it.

Will felt hot shame whenever he thought about the idea of his husband nursing from him, but the thought was starting to embed itself in Will’s mind. It’d grown claws and sank them into Will’s brain, unable to think about anything else when he masturbated. More often than not, Will would orgasm with the image of Hannibal suckling at his nipples in his mind, and it was starting to become a bit of an issue for Will. Hannibal always knew when Will was aroused, able to smell it like a human bloodhound. But Will would rather die than admit this one little fantasy to his husband.

This worked for only about two weeks until Will couldn’t take it anymore.

Will just knew that Hannibal was aware of his little secret fantasy, as nothing ever stayed a secret between them for long. Knew that Hannibal was simply just going to wait until Will broke down and came to him about it himself. But Will was stubborn more than anything else, and he wouldn’t let himself crack.

But even Will knew that he’d break eventually.

So today, Will had purposefully not pumped in the morning, all but sure that things were about to come to a head between them. Just in case he decided to tell Hannibal today, he wanted to have more than enough milk for Hannibal to indulge in. After all, he expected Hannibal to drink him dry. There was one disadvantage to this though: his breasts would ache all day until Will decided to rip off the band aid and confess. At least it would all be worth it in the end, right?

Hannibal had already gotten up for the day and made his way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, leaving Will all alone in their bed. Will rolled over, groaning at the ache in his muscles that greeted him every morning. He could smell breakfast cooking from the kitchen downstairs, the aroma of it convincing Will to finally get up instead of putting it off any longer. Will winced at the pop of his joints as he stood up, doing his usual morning stretch.

Today would be the day that Will would tell Hannibal. Tell him how he fantasized about holding Hannibal to his chest and letting him suckle at his breasts, to drink from the source. How he longed to look down at his husband latched onto his nipples, drinking his fill until he was satisfied, yawning and laying his head against Will’s chest in content. Will’s cunt gave an interested twitch at that thought, at how Hannibal might react. He already knew how much Hannibal loved his milk, loved to use it in every dish he possibly could.

But there was the very likely possibility that he would find it disgusting, almost demeaning to latch onto Will like that. Hannibal would also very likely have something to say about it in a psychiatric way, no doubt throwing questions at Will about his ‘mommy issues.’ Which he definitely didn’t have, thank you very much.

As Will shuffled over to their dresser to look for a clean pair of boxers, a thought formed unbidden in his mind. Maybe he should forgo the boxers entirely, instead wearing some panties in anticipation of the possible outcome that Hannibal might just fuck him right there in the kitchen after his confession. Will highly doubted that he would, but still. The thought wouldn’t leave him, so his decision had been made for him. He quickly changed into a deep, slightly sheer navy pair, pulling a pair of old sweatpants over top of it. He specifically chose this pair of pants because of the obscenely low waistline, where if Will raised his arms, his shirt would ride up and expose a section of the underwear. After all, he wanted to tempt Hannibal into fucking him, regardless of if he said yes or no to Will’s little fantasy. Either way, Will Graham was going to get fucked this morning one way or another, or so help him god.

Will was brought out of his thoughts by the uncomfortable feeling of his night shirt plastered to his chest, soaked with his milk. Apparently, he’d forgotten to put on a bra earlier this morning, as he normally did to help soak up some of the mess. For a brief moment, Will considered putting one on, just to lessen the mess and make the inevitable clean up easier. But in the end, he decided against it. He wanted to drive Hannibal insane with lust at the sight of his husband’s leaky tits with no barrier holding them back. And you know what? He wasn’t even going to change his shirt either. There would be no point, as it would get stripped off eventually, and he’d just soak through another one. Really, Will just didn’t want to have to do extra laundry for once.

So, with a pep in his step and a goal in mind, Will made his way downstairs.

To Hannibal’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge Will as he entered the kitchen, far too invested in his cooking as he usually was. Instead, he was laser focused on the task at hand, only acknowledging Will once he pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.

For a few moments, Will simply admired his husband’s form as he worked, licking his lips at the few glances of bare skin he could see. Will had spent countless hours planting kisses on that body, little licks and nibbles here and there, worshiping it like Hannibal was his own personal god. The way Hannibal would moan so sweetly when Will nipped at his skin, particularly his nipples. How Will could undo him with only his mouth and hands, his teeth.

Will suppressed the urge to growl at the sight of the fresh scratches he’d left down Hannibal’s shoulders just two days ago. The edges of them were visible at the collar of that adorable red sweater that Hannibal was quite fond of, just barely peeking out. Will felt possessive as he stared at them, being the only one who could have his husband. He’d been marked as Will’s, as his obedient little pet, and anyone who even so much as talked to him in a flirtatious way would die by Will’s hand. He’d done it before, countless times, and he would continue to do it until the day he died. Hannibal was his and nobody else’s, would never be anything but Will’s.

The only thing Hannibal needed was a permanent reminder of who he belonged to, something that would be seen by the world as a claim. Will had already picked out Hannibal’s collar a few months ago, had it customized down to the very last stitch. Now, all he had to do was wait. And waiting was the hardest part for Will. Every day and night Hannibal’s neck stayed bare, other than the constellation of bite marks and bruises Will would gift him every night, and the sight of it made his skin itch. A neck that shouldn’t be bare, should be bestowed with a physical manifestation of Will’s love.

But Will had to be patient, had to instead mark Hannibal’s neck with his teeth. It was a decent deterrent to wandering eyes and drunken fools, acting as a symbol of Will’s ownership over him. But sometimes, it wasn’t enough. When it wasn’t, Will would get their names and hunt them down and slaughter them like the pigs they were, bringing the bodies home to his loyal pet to serve as their next meal.

At the memories of being bathed in the blood of his victims, slaughtered and butchered, all for his husband, Will’s cunt twitched again, feeling the beginnings of arousal starting to stir in him. As Hannibal moved between his stations, Will’s thoughts began to drift towards the reason why he was down here, wet, leaking, and ready for Hannibal.

Before, he’d been extremely nervous to bring this up to Hannibal, had had knots of anxiety in his stomach about what his answer would be. But now? The anxiety had been washed away, and all that remained was anticipation. Even if he said no, that the very idea was too demeaning and disgusting, Will would still pounce on him. Would reward Hannibal’s honesty, even if his idea was rejected, because at least he would’ve been honest. And also, just because Will was extra horny today. Sure, it would be even more satisfying if he could have Hannibal pressed to his chest, drinking his fill, but it would still be satisfying all the same.

Lost in his thoughts, Will’s hand had migrated to his clothed cunt, rubbing lazily at it in long passes. Will bit his lips to keep a moan from spilling out of his throat, thinking about how good Hannibal’s mouth would feel on his nipples. Thinking about those sharp, uneven teeth biting and kneading at them, scraping against them to draw the milk out, suckling at them like a man parched.

This time, Will couldn’t keep the moan silent.

Will’s hand stilled as Hannibal stopped his work, tilting his head sideways and glancing back at Will. He’d been caught red handed. Of course he had. He could probably smell the arousal on Will since he’d walked into the kitchen. A faint blush painted Will’s cheeks, his hand awkwardly on his inner thigh now.

“Starting without me?” Hannibal hummed, a small smile tugging at his lips. But before Will could say anything, try to explain himself, Hannibal’s eyes gazed lower, falling on the shelf of his cleavage and the utterly soaked through fabric of his shirt. Hannibal’s nostrils flared at the sight, taking in a slow inhale, clearly smelling Will’s arousal. Briefly, he turned around to shut off the stove, then turned back around to fully face Will.

Hannibal was looking at Will like he wanted to devour him alive, that all too familiar glint of mischief and unabashed lust in his eyes.

“Just couldn’t wait. I was just enjoying the view, that’s all,” Will mused, pushing his chair out far enough to where Hannibal could see his spread thighs, the wet patch forming on his sweatpants. But when Hannibal caught sight of the hint of Will’s panties, that look turned darker.

“Can’t help it that you look so good in your element,” Will smiled, small and fond as he began kneading at the fabric of his inner thigh, drawing his hand higher and higher.

Hannibal chuckled, light and airy, as he slowly made his way over to Will. No, it was more of a saunter. Slinking towards him like a predator who was about to go in for the kill. Will smirked, leaning back to spread his thighs further, hand playing at the hem of his pants, slipping under them.

But before Will could even properly touch himself, Hannibal stopped before him, hand shooting out to grab Will’s wrist and wrench it free from underneath the fabric. Hannibal’s eyes were dark, mischievous, even as he forced it behind Will’s back.

“Tell me, dear. What has you so worked up this morning?” Hannibal mused, eyes catching on Will’s lower lip, already bitten red. Will smiled, sharp and cutting, as he wrenched his hand free from Hannibal’s grasp, boldly grabbing the other one to run it down his soaked chest. Will met Hannibal’s eyes, coaxing him to grab a handful of his breast. Hannibal’s eyes were dark, licking his lips as he took the hint, cupping it in his hand and rubbing at Will’s leaking, sore nipple through the sodden fabric. Will threw his head back against the chair, wincing briefly at the pain of it colliding with the wood.

Will whined at the touch, pushing his chest out further to properly press into Hannibal’s hand. A wet spot was rapidly forming in Will’s sweatpants, his hips twitching forward to seek friction that wouldn’t come. Hannibal grinned at the reaction, squeezing Will’s sore breast in his grasp, his thumb rubbing in circles around the peaked nipple. He was rewarded with a fresh dribble of milk, further soaking through Will’s shirt.

It took Will a few moments to collect himself until he could speak.

“Been thinking about you. About your mouth,” Will gasped at a particularly hard pinch of his nipple, one hand snaking itself in Hannibal’s sleep mussed hair to press their faces closer together. “About how badly I need it on my-,” Will was cut off by the feeling of Hannibal’s other hand trailing down his clothed stomach to rest on his inner thigh, caressing it so close to where he needed him the most.

“On your what, darling?” Hannibal cooed. “Use your words.”

Will whined in frustration at the lack of touch on his cunt, at the slow, almost agonizing pace of Hannibal’s fingers rubbing at his nipple. He needed more, and now.

Unfortunately for Will, Hannibal had other ideas.

When Will didn’t answer him, Hannibal gave him a small, wicked smile as the hand on Will’s thigh suddenly moved to cup his soaking cunt through his ruined pants. Will whimpered, panting against Hannibal’s open mouth, snapping his thighs shut around the hand between them.

“Do you want my mouth here?” Hannibal hummed, slipping his hand under the waistband of Will’s sweatpants to drag his fingers over his cunt through the drenched panties. Will gasped at the touch, bucking forward into it.

Hannibal leaned in close, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to Will’s jaw, nipping at his luscious lips. Will surged forward, his hand digging itself into Hannibal’s hair, smashing their lips together in a heated, filthy kiss.

Hannibal let out a sharp, wet moan at the feeling of Will’s lips on his, his tongue bullying its way into Hannibal’s mouth. Will was desperate, needed Hannibal’s touch, needed it everywhere at once. He needed Hannibal’s mouth around his nipple as badly as he needed to breathe. But Will couldn’t speak, too overcome with arousal and pure need to voice his desire. Hannibal withdrew from Will’s mouth, peppering kisses down the overheated skin of his neck. As his mouth went lower, Will’s thighs tightened around the hand still petting over his neglected cunt, his breathing growing heavier.

At the feeling of hot breath ghosting over his oversensitive nipple through the now sheer, thin fabric, Will tensed, holding his breath.

“Or perhaps, would you like it here?” Hannibal whispered, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he opened his mouth, mouthing at the nipple beneath.

Will’s reaction was immediate.

A jolt of arousal shot through him at the feeling of Hannibal’s warm, wet mouth around his clothed nipple. He didn’t suck, just merely lapped at it with little kitten licks. But that was all it took for Will to leap into action.

The next moments happened in a blur, Will’s hand yanking on Hannibal’s hair, hard enough to pull out strands. Hannibal winced at the force of it, being brought forcefully to his feet. Before he could even react, Will’s eyes found his, wild and blown out with lust. A deep shiver of arousal shot through Hannibal’s body at the unexpected display of Will’s strength, his cock now fully tenting his sweatpants. He was hard, so achingly hard at the prospect of finally being granted the opportunity to drink from Will’s tits, to finally taste his husband’s milk straight from the source.

Hannibal had known about Will’s little fantasy for a few weeks now, having noticed Will’s avoidance of him when he partook in drinking his milk in the mornings. Noticed the way Will’s breath hitched when he watched Hannibal swallow it, eyes following the expanse of his throat as it flexed. And most importantly, Will’s refusal to let Hannibal get anywhere his nipples. At first, he’d chalked it up to them being extra sensitive due to the excessive pumping that Will had been having to do lately. But as the days wore on and Will seemed to be growing more pent up, staring at Hannibal’s lips far more than usual, he knew that his darling husband was hiding a desire from him.

Truthfully, Hannibal had wanted nothing more than to suck on Will’s tits, to taste his milk fresh for years now. Had wanted to bite and pinch them until Will’s milk flowed freely into his ravenous mouth. But he’d known that Will was embarrassed about it at first, and had a hangup about letting Hannibal drink directly from him. He knew that Will had to be afraid to broach the topic with him, as he’d only just recently began allowing Hannibal to drink and cook with it. It’d taken years for him to become comfortable with the idea, but he’d still had a ways to go until he was fully comfortable with every aspect of it.

But clearly, Will was ready now.

Hannibal barely had time to catch his breath before Will gave him a cruel, sharp smile, grabbing one of his hands to force it under his soaked shirt, bringing it up to one of Will’s leaky, sore tits. Hannibal snarled at the feeling of his husband’s wet, bare breast beneath his hand, attempting to fight against Will’s iron grip on his hair so that he could surge forward and give him what he wanted.

“You want my milk that bad?” Will laughed, sharp and dangerous. “Then show me.”

All it took were those three words for Hannibal to leap into action.

Will yelped at Hannibal’s sudden roughness, his hands lifting Will’s shirt up to bunch at his collarbone, struggling to get it off due to how utterly soaked it was. Hannibal made a noise of frustration as Will took mercy on him, pushing him back enough so he could properly take his shirt off. He barely had time to process the feeling of the chilly air hitting his oversensitive nipples before Hannibal was on his knees, his face level with Will’s leaking tits.

The only warning Will got was Hannibal’s wide, wicked grin, as his tongue darted out to lick at the fresh drops of milk that were beading on Will’s nipples.

Will shuddered, bone deep as he felt Hannibal’s warm tongue lap at his nipple, as Hannibal let out a sharp snarl at the taste of his husband’s milk. Will had no time to react, Hannibal swiftly taking the wet nipple into his mouth and latching on, his teeth kneading it to draw out more milk.

Will whined, high and sharp as a sharp, white hot bolt of arousal ricocheted through him at the feeling of Hannibal’s mouth finally, finally closing around where he’d wanted it for weeks now.

Hannibal sucked on his tits like a man possessed, snarling against the nipple in his mouth with a hand gripping his breast tight enough to bring tears to Will’s eyes. He massaged it, encouraging the flow of milk straight into his mouth. Will panted, the hand in Hannibal’s hair going white-knuckled with how hard he pulled at it. He was moaning like a two dollar whore, mouth open and wide as he whispered soft praises to his husband, his hips thrusting up into nothing, desperate for friction.

With each pull of Hannibal’s lips at his nipple, molten heat surged through Will’s body, the need to come growing and growing with each passing moment. Fuck, he might even come untouched just from this, just from the feeling of Hannibal’s warm, wet mouth latched onto his nipple, drinking his fill of Will’s sweet milk.

And it was sweet, Hannibal noted, almost sweeter direct from the source itself. If Hannibal were to die right here, right now, just like this, sucking at his husband’s breast, he couldn’t think of a better way to go. His scalp was burning from where Will’s fingers seized his hair, no doubt tearing out strands in the process. But the pain didn’t matter to Hannibal, not right now. It only enhanced the experience, the pain magnifying his arousal.

Will tasted divine, like ambrosia of the gods, like the sweetest of honey.

He tasted like heaven.

And on his knees, suckling at Will’s breast like his milk was the only thing that could nourish him, Hannibal felt like a supplicant to a God, his God, his darling, brilliant husband.

And if heaven truly existed, Hannibal liked to think it would be this for all eternity. Servicing Will on his knees, where he truly belonged, bringing him endless pleasure for the rest of time, just like the good boy he was.

And good boys always deserved rewards.

“Look at you, sucking my tits like a good little slut.” Will growled, his free hand flying to his clothed, drenched pussy to snake under the waistband of his sweatpants and panties. But he barely had the chance to touch it before he felt Hannibal’s free hand reaching in and grabbing his wrist to pull it out.

Will snarled at the denial, Hannibal finally releasing his abused, swollen, and sore nipple to the cold morning air, pulling back with the biggest, most annoying smirk on his face.

Will wanted to slap him in the face, wanted to spank his ass raw for having the audacity to stop, to deny Will his own pleasure.

He also wanted to ride him until he was crying and begging for mercy, pleading with him to stop.

As if Hannibal could read his mind, he spoke.

“I fear that I have angered you, darling. What is to be done about that?” Hannibal grinned, wide and smug like the cat that got the cream.

Will took in the sight that made up Hannibal before him: his hair was disheveled, wild from where Will had gripped it, his cheeks flushed a rosy red from his feeding, and his cock tenting the front of his pants obscenely with a dark spot where it had leaked through them.

He looked utterly debauched already, and they’d barely even gotten started. Will wanted to ruin him, to reduce him to a whimpering, shaking mess to be used as Will saw fit, for his own selfish pleasure.

What Hannibal needed was to be put in his place by his husband, his owner and master.

And that? Will could do. Gleefully, even.

So, with burning desire and molten anger in his eyes, Will locked eyes with Hannibal, gaze unflinching and hard, and smiled. It was a cruel, mischievous thing, and Hannibal felt his stomach drop at it, knowing that he’d fucked up. He loved Will regardless, both when he was kind and loving and when he was cruel and vindictive. But right now? Was when he loved him the most: when he was sadistic and unfeeling, treating Hannibal like he was nothing more than a dirty, groveling mutt beneath his heel. When he treated him like an object, like something to be used and abused and put away broken, Hannibal felt the most alive.

When they killed together, he felt like they were untouchable by any mortal hands, gods among men. But when he was reduced to this, a naughty little mutt who needed to be taught a lesson, corrected by Will’s cruel yet caring hands? He felt like he’d seen the gates of heaven itself, truly and utterly human at the hands of his God. When he was submissive to Will, he welcomed his violent hands and filthy words that were whispered into his ears in the darkest hours of the night. Will made him feel human and breakable, when his hands split open his skin and spilled Hannibal’s blood upon their sheets. When the skin of his ass was cherry red and bruised, was when Hannibal felt the most at peace, the most human he’d ever been.

Will’s hands were capable of great destruction as he’d witnessed countless times over the years, from being wrapped around the necks of pigs and strangling the life out of their pathetic, unworthy bodies. They’d done their fair share of damage to Hannibal’s body, some permanent and some not. But he always welcomed them, welcomed their wrathful and loving touch. When Will put his hands on him, he was remade in his husband’s image each and every time. Those hands had so lovingly sculpted the expanse of Hannibal’s body to Will’s perfect image of the person Hannibal was, and could be under his watchful and devoted gaze.

And now, as his husband towered over him with a look of fury in his eyes, Hannibal simply smiled, accepting his fate.

Before he could even think about doing anything, Will laughed, dark and positively dripping with malice, quickly stepping out of his sweatpants and panties to descend upon Hannibal lying prone on the floor. The breath was knocked from his lungs as Will straddled him, motioning for Hannibal to take off his shirt, starting to divest him of his pants. When he was stark naked, Will blanketed his body with his own, grinding down onto Hannibal’s neglected, straining cock to rip a sudden, shocked moan from his parted lips.

“I’m going to make you regret that, darlin’.” Will purred, rubbing his sopping wet pussy up and down the length of Hannibal’s cock, coating him in his slick. Not like he’d need any kind of lubrication at this point, with Hannibal’s copious amounts of precome and Will’s slick doing the job for them.

Hannibal mewled, quiet and restrained as he attempted to keep control of himself. But soon, Will knew he’d lose himself to the act of submission, his mind going blank and fuzzy with subspace. Then, he’d take whatever punishment Will would give him with no second thoughts.

Right. There was still the matter of punishment. He almost didn’t want to do it honestly, as Hannibal hadn’t really done anything wrong except for stopping Will from touching himself. But he was still pissed about it, having been so close to orgasm just from Hannibal sucking his tits, having it yanked away so quickly.

After a few more moments of aimless grinding, Will thought of the perfect punishment for his boy, smiling to himself at what he was about to do.

Beneath him, Hannibal was panting, the smallest and quietest moans falling from his pretty little mouth at every pass of his cock over Will’s clit. With each slide of Will’s cunt, Hannibal grew impossibly harder. God, he looked fucking breathtaking like this, subdued and ready to submit. All Will had to do was issue a command, and his little slave would obey with no hesitation. He wanted to draw this out, to make Hannibal beg his master for the right to come, denying him release until he pounced on Will like a feral, wild animal.

But luckily for him, Will was out of patience.

“You wanna fuck me, mutt? Wanna fill me up until I’m full of your come?” Will growled, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s ear as he flattened himself on top of him, his still leaking tits pressing down onto Hannibal’s chest, smearing drops of milk through his chest hair.

Hannibal nodded frantically, pleasure mounting just from this, his orgasm just on the horizon, but still so far out of reach. He needed to be inside of Will, needed his cock buried in the warm, wet heat of Will’s pussy, and he needed it now. He’d do anything to fuck into that inviting, wet warmth.

Will chuckled, nosing his way down Hannibal’s neck to press a soft, almost too gentle kiss to the crook of his neck.

“Just lie back and let daddy do all the work.” Will kissed Hannibal’s cheek, chuckling as Hannibal surged forward to try and capture his lips in a kiss. But he wouldn’t be getting that kiss, not right now. This was part of his punishment, as Hannibal loved to kiss him, loved to feel Will’s soft, plump lips on his own no matter what they were doing. He loved to kiss him in the mornings, in the shower, and at a fresh crime scene, tasting the blood of whatever unlucky pig they’d slain together on the other’s lips. Withholding that from him was tantamount to torture for Hannibal, and if his husband’s frustrated groan was anything to go by, it was working.

With a frustrated sigh, Hannibal relented, and dropped his head back to the cold, unforgiving tile of the kitchen floor. Their backs would surely be sore by the end of this, but it would be worth the pain in the end.

When Will sat back and momentarily lifted his hips from off Hannibal’s own, he whined at the loss of warmth. Will just shushed him, taking his cock firmly in his hand, giving him a few cursory pumps just to stimulate him. Hannibal’s hips bucked up into Will’s touch, chasing the heat of his grasp. Will aimed it at his wet, waiting hole, and sighed as he sank down onto Hannibal’s cock.

Will moaned, light and breathy at the sheer girth of it, despite still being open from last night’s session. Even though he took it nightly, the stretch still burned for a few seconds, especially when there was no proper preparation. But to Will, the slight sting and ache of it was what made it that much better.

A choked sob was punched from Hannibal’s lungs at the feeling of finally sinking into Will’s wet heat, trying his best not to immediately fuck up into his body. Will’s mouth hung open on a moan as he hissed sightly at the burn of it, taking his time to sink further down inch by torturous inch. Will wanted nothing more than to ride Hannibal’s cock until he was sobbing from overstimulation, but he needed to go slow, as he didn’t want to tear anything.

Hannibal’s breathing was ragged, keeping his hips still to allow Will time to adjust to the girth of his cock. He always looked like so radiant like this, face contorted in pleasure, body flushed red from arousal. In the morning light, his curls were illuminated in the shape of a halo, still wild from sleep.

He looked absolutely breathtaking, taking Hannibal’s cock like he was born to, eager flesh parting so easily around it, like it belonged there.

And it did. His cock, his body, his entire being belonged to Will. He was merely a toy to be played with, a thing to be owned and cared for, loved with all of Will’s heart and soul.

Hannibal belonged to him, mind, body, and soul, and had since the start. And Will was his, the other half of his soul. And he’d been put through enough, having to suffer at Hannibal’s hands for so many years. So it was only fair that in their new life, in the wake of their rebirth in the Atlantic, Hannibal would be the one to suffer under his hands. Rarely was it ever truly physical or anything so severe, but the reminders were there in every single thing they did.

Yes, his true place was by Will’s side, and under his boot. Inside him in every way that mattered, both physical and metaphysical. He was nothing more than a slave to Will’s pleasure, a filthy mutt that had been broken and repaired by Will’s capable hands. He’d broken and remade Will as well in his own ways as well, and they had both come out the other side new and improved, more wise and in tune with the other.

The slaying of Dolarhyde had been their wedding, their leap into the Atlantic their consummation. And now, they lived in wedded bliss, living each day to the fullest.

And every night, Hannibal partook in the sacrament of Will’s love, his fury, and his hands of ruin.

Beneath Will, sheathed inside of him and filling him to the brim, Hannibal found solace. He was Will’s, and Will was his, forever and always, even in the afterlife.

And now, his darling beloved had finally allowed him to worship him to the fullest extent, to drink the nectar of his body.

Hannibal’s mind had drifted off into the safety and loving embrace of subspace, a state of mind where he no longer had to think or worry.

All he had to do? Was obey.

At long last, when Will’s hips were nestled to Hannibal’s, his cock splitting him open and filling him so exquisitely, he allowed himself to let out the breath he’d been holding since he first entered him.

Will exhaled, heavy and stuttering with the full weight of Hannibal inside him. He bit his lip to try and hide a moan, quickly beginning to grind his hips forwards for stimulation. Fuck, Hannibal filled him up so goddamn good, the head of his cock always hitting that sweet spot inside of him that never failed to make him see stars.

At the movement of Will’s hips, Hannibal stuttered out a moan, his head thrown back against the tile and his eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

“Does my baby feel good? You like fucking daddy’s pussy?” Will breathed, biting out a moan, bracing his hands on Hannibal’s hips to lift his hips up and slam back down, drawing out a sharp, high gasp from both of them. Hannibal merely nodded, struck mute by the feeling of Will’s cunt clenching around him in a steady rhythm. Will started bouncing on his cock, his fingers digging deep, dark bruises into the skin of Hannibal’s hips. The sound of wet, loud slaps of skin on skin was near deafening already, Will working up to a languid rhythm, not too slow, but not too fast either.

As much as Will wanted to come, he wanted to draw this out for Hannibal as part of his punishment. When Hannibal was fully in subspace and settled into his role, he would fuck into Will hard, sharp, and fast to chase his orgasm as quickly as possible. And when it came and went, Will would force him to stay inside of him, fucking him over and over again to the point where he was sobbing in overstimulation. Just because Hannibal might come quick, doesn’t mean that Will always had to. Hannibal almost always came twice in a session, even if he was crying and begging for Will to stop. Hannibal loved it, loved being pushed past his physical limits all to satisfy his husband.

And today? Will just wanted to get fucked, hard and fast like he liked it. Honestly, he didn’t know how long he could keep up the slow pace, his own arousal building but not quite as quickly as he’d like it to. No, he’d go easy on Hannibal, just this once. There was still one way to punish him, and it was always the most effective.

So, with a loud, breathy moan, Will planted his hands on Hannibal’s stomach and slammed his hips down fast, riding him properly just how he liked it. A low, throaty moan was ripped from Hannibal’s throat, snarling at how hot and wet Will felt around him.

Hannibal felt like a man gone mad, relentlessly driving his cock into Will’s warm, wet cunt over and over again, until Will was reduced to a babbling mess.

“Fuck, you’re so deep.” Will gasped, mouth dropping open at a particularly hard thrust. “God, you’re so fucking big Hannibal.” Small whimpers were falling from Will’s lips at every thrust, digging his fingers into the soft skin of Hannibal’s stomach. With each thrust, Will’s tits bounced, almost obscenely, streams of milk sliding down them in small rivulets. Hannibal’s eyes traced every trail, licking his lips, desperately wishing he could lick those tits clean. He needed to taste his husband’s milk again, needed to glut himself on it until he was full and sleepy. He could feel drops of it hitting his skin, puddles starting to form on it, the milk warm and silky on his skin.

Hannibal wanted to speak, wanted to beg Will for permission to suck his tits again. But when he was this deep in subspace, he was rendered speechless, a slave to pleasure. He was unable to for coherent thoughts, the only thought in his mind being Will’s name repeated over and over like a mantra. In this state, he was nothing more than something to be used, to be claimed, to be owned. Here, with his cock buried in his husband’s tight, soaking cunt, he was no longer human. He was just a cock with legs, his only purpose being to pleasure Will and bring him ecstasy.

He was Will’s good boy, his slave. His property, Will’s to do with as he wished.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hands flew to Will’s hips, guiding him up and down when Will’s thighs started to shake from the strain of the position. Will was utterly drenched, enough so that there was an ever growing puddle on the floor beneath him. God, his legs hurt, his pussy already sore just from the girth and stretch of Hannibal’s cock. But the pain was what grounded him, kept him tethered to the Earth as he was fucked to the point of exhaustion. He didn’t know how much longer Hannibal could keep up his pace, the strain beginning to show in his expression, and how heavy he was breathing.

But he’d be damned if he slowed down now, his first orgasm on the horizon. But he needed more, needed something else.

Then, he had an idea.

One of Will’s hands skimmed down his body, making its way to his sore, aching cunt. His breath hitched at the first touch of his fingers to his clit, electricity shooting through him at the touch. Just a few more passes over it and he would be coming, soaking Hannibal’s cock in his slick. A litany of loud, high oh’s were ripped from his throat, his fingers scrubbing furiously at his clit in a blur.

But still, he needed more.

When Will looked down into Hannibal’s eyes, he saw nothing short of devotion, pure bliss, and utter submission. He was so far gone now, the instinct to fuck, to claim, to breed taking over his body. Will’s breath hitched at the thought of Hannibal breeding him, filling him with his come over and over again until it took, until his womb was full to bursting. Fuck, he wished he could still get pregnant. If only for how doting and attentive Hannibal would be to him. He would kiss and worship Will’s stomach, round with their child, pampering and spoiling him to ridiculous levels. He would kill for Will, going on hunts alone to provide for him and the child growing inside of him.

But it wouldn’t be happening, not ever. They both knew better than to breed, and didn’t want any chance of it happening. Will wouldn’t be a good father, he knew this now. But indulging in this fantasy wasn’t hurting anyone, and Hannibal loved to hear him beg for it, beg for his child.

Will was brought out of his thoughts by the faltering rhythm of Hannibal’s hips, the feeling of his nails breaking skin on his hips, the coppery scent of blood filling the air. Will gazed into his eyes, seeing desperation in them. Desperation to be allowed to come, to fill Will up nice and full.

But Will still hadn’t come yet, and he wasn’t about to let his pet come before he did.

“You wanna come darlin’?” Hannibal nodded frantically as Will climbed off his cock, hissing at the pain and already regretting the loss of warmth. He repositioned himself on Hannibal’s stomach, leaning down enough that his tits were just above Hannibal’s mouth, right within reach. Hannibal let out a pathetic whimper as Will leaned closer, gripping Hannibal’s hair to angle his mouth just right.

“I thought so. But daddy wants to come first, and daddy always gets what he wants.” Will smirked, watching over his shoulder as Hannibal’s hips thrust up into nothing, his cock an angry, needy red.

“Suck daddy’s tits for me, baby. Drink up and make me fucking come.” Will snarled, his hips starting a long, slow grind over Hannibal’s stomach, almost slipping at just how fucking wet he was. Before Hannibal could react, Will swiftly pacified him with a nipple, shivering in arousal at the high, filthy moan that fell from Hannibal’s open mouth. Hannibal’s hand found his hips, fingers digging into them, guiding them in a brutal rhythm against his body.

Sharp little whines left Hannibal’s lips as he latched onto a nipple, tongue lapping hungrily at the thick streams of milk flowing freely into his mouth. Will’s moans were pitching higher and higher with each tug of his nipple between Hannibal’s teeth, grinding against him with increasing urgency to come.

“Fuck, that’s good, sweetheart.” Will praised. “Suck daddy dry.”

Hannibal’s eyes shot open at the praise, eyes hazy with tears and desperation, the need to come overwhelming. Will knew that look, knew when Hannibal was teetering on the edge of orgasm. It was wordless plea, a plea to have mercy on him and let him reach his release. But Will merely grinned at him, cruel and unforgiving.
When he shook his head no, Hannibal snarled around the nipple in his mouth, giving Will’s nipple a brutal, sharp tug between his teeth.

Will keened, practically humping Hannibal’s stomach at the pain, chasing his orgasm.

With a sharp, watery cry, Will’s hips stilled, body snapping upright, his nipple falling from Hannibal’s lips with a filthy wet pop, feeling the dam break at last.

“Fuck! Oh god, fuck!” Will wailed, slick gushing from his cunt as he squirted all over Hannibal, hips stuttering with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. He was shaking, trembling like a leaf as the aftershocks coursed through him, continuing to scrub his clit against the skin of Hannibal’s stomach in hopes of prolonging his release. Quickly, Will barreled straight into a second orgasm, unable to stop coming. Hazily, he registered the telltale feeling of Hannibal’s muscles clenching, his own orgasm about to hit.

Through the aftershocks, Will’s hand flew back to grab Hannibal’s leaking, aching cock, in a punishing grip to stave off his orgasm by force.

In an instant, Will was being thrown off of Hannibal, back slamming against the tile. Hannibal was on his feet immediately, gripping Will’s curls in a far too painful grasp, wrenching him up from the floor to his knees. Will could do nothing but let him, gritting his teeth at the pain, tears springing to his eyes.

“Hannibal-,” Will started, but was quickly cut off by Hannibal thrusting his cock into his mouth in one fluid motion, plugging up Will’s throat and rendering him breathless. Will gagged, spit dripping from his plugged mouth, lewd and downright filthy noises being fucked out of him. Will’s eyes met Hannibal’s, tears freely falling at the brutal pumps of his hips into his battered, abused throat.

In Hannibal’s eyes, Will saw fury.

He saw frustration, clearly having had enough of Will’s teasing, of his refusal to let him come. He was still in subspace, but not quite as deep anymore, fighting back against Will’s dominance.

And he looked so fucking beautiful with wrath in his eyes, fiery and bright. As much as Will loved when Hannibal was pliant and submissive, reduced to nothing but a warm hole to fuck, he also loved when he fought back. When he surfaced just long enough to give Will a taste of his own medicine, to let him be the fucktoy for once.

Will was reduced to nothing more than a ragdoll, letting himself be thrown around by his pet, to let him play master, even if just for a few fleeting moments.

It was maddening, it was torturous.

And it was pure bliss.

Soon, Will’s lungs ached with the need to breathe, with the restriction of airflow. He knew Hannibal wouldn’t let this go too far, but he also briefly wondered if he’d let him pass out, cock buried deep in his master’s throat, only pulling out once Will was unconscious.

Fuck, Hannibal longed to do that, to watch Will be fucked to the point of unconsciousness. He wanted Will to feel used, like he did every time they fucked. To be Hannibal’s pet for once, to suffer like he does when Will unleashes his wrath on him.

But it wasn’t something they could just do spur of the moment, no. They’d need to plan, need to have safewords and hand signals to prevent it from going wrong.

One day, perhaps. But for now, Hannibal fucked Will’s throat with abandon, giving himself over to pleasure, cock pulsing as he neared release. The gurgling sounds coming from Will were disgusting, loud, and so utterly beautiful. He was a cock hungry whore for Hannibal in this moment, his little toy.

Finally, Hannibal was able to find words to speak.

“Take it, darling, swallow every last drop.” Hannibal snarled, fucking in once, twice, then pushing Will all the way down to the base of his cock, holding him there in an iron grip, finally coming down Will’s ruined throat. Will choked at the flood of come filling his mouth, trying his best to swallow around the girth of Hannibal’s cock. With a few final twitches of his hips, Hannibal relented, going soft and slipping out of his master’s mouth.

Will coughed and sputtered as he finally drew air back into his lungs, lightheaded and so utterly worn out. Hannibal’s hold on his hair gentled, petting gently through his sweaty curls.

He allowed Will to kneel there for a moment, head resting against his thigh so he could take a few moments to breathe.

“Well. That was certainly productive.” Hannibal chuckled, fingers carding lazily through Will’s hair as he looked up at him, eyes wet with tears and fondness.

“Should’ve done this weeks ago. I was just so afraid that you’d think it was gross.” Will nuzzled into Hannibal’s thigh, sighing in content as his breathing calmed. With a wince and a pop of his joints, Will rose to his feet, pressing Hannibal back against the counter to embrace him. He nuzzled into Hannibal’s neck, pressing light kisses to his throat.

“And why would you think that? I have always been open to exploring your desires with you, no matter how strange.” Hannibal hummed, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist to press him closer. “Besides, you already knew how much I loved drinking your milk. I would never refuse the opportunity to do it properly.” Will blushed at his words, a dopey smile crawling across his face.

“I know, I was just nervous. But I’m glad we did this.” Will mused, hand coming up to pet through the hair on Hannibal’s chest idly.

“As am I. Just remember, darling, that if you want something, all you have to do is ask.” Hannibal smiled against Will’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah, but I like being a whore sometimes. And I know you do too.” Will pulled away from Hannibal’s neck with a small laugh, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. For a moment, they were content with just holding each other, with existing in the same shared space together.

The moment was interrupted however, by the grumbling of Will’s stomach. Will pulled away, smiling and laughing so bright at the unexpected interruption.

“Right, you were making breakfast when I so rudely interrupted you. I should let you get back to that.” Will pressed another quick kiss to Hannibal’s lips, pulling away to walk over to his discarded clothes, collecting them in his arms.

“I’m gonna go shower while you do that. Call me when it’s ready?” Will glanced over his shoulder at his husband, smiling, demure and oh so tempting. God, this boy would be the death of him. And he would welcome it with open arms.

“Of course, mylimasis. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Hannibal grinned, watching Will walk away, heading upstairs to clean up.

When he was gone, as Hannibal redressed, he thought of what he’d done to deserve a life like this, a man like Will. They’d suffered through so much together at the hands of the other, rolled the dice on their fate. And they’d won, had come out the other side together, intact and whole, one and the same.

As he made his way back to the stove, Hannibal glanced down at his wedding band, watching it gleam in the light of the morning sun. Neither of them were perfect, but they were each other’s, till death do they part, whether at the hands of the law, the sands of time, or by each other’s blade.

And Hannibal couldn’t be happier.