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The World Ends Here

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He says 'You do know I'm wearing both my socks," when Hannibal corners him in the kitchen.

Feels like it should be night but the morning sunshine is making the shadows on his stepfather's face stand out even starker. Makes the smile when he gets the reference even sharper.

His mother is upstairs sleeping off whatever new medication the array of doctors she pays have given her. Will is smart enough to know that no amount of medication is ever going to cure the new Mrs Lecter.

Hannibal always manages to be where she isn't and Will is.

Like here in the kitchen. As soon as they moved into this house Hannibal made the kitchen his own. Before his mother had married him they'd paid someone but that had stopped as soon as Hannibal moved in. Will has been drawn in this morning by the smell. The promise of delicious things.

Of which is stepfather is one. He can never take his eyes off of the way his arms move with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The pristine white apron strings hugging his waist and emphasizing his hips. Will's only seen the barest hints of his skin.

Even now, when those arms cage him in against the countertop. When one knee edges Will's legs apart. Smiling lazily down because Will made a Lolita reference but isn't really trying to get away.

This thing between them keeps escalating. From the first time Hannibal 'accidentally' brushed past him, pressing his hips into Will's backside, to now when he leans down and puts his lips to Will's cheek.

Will has begun to lie awake in his bed at night. At first he was afraid. Afraid of the creak of the door and the crack of light from the hall. Heavy footsteps. He won't bother to be quiet, when he comes, will he? There's no need. Nobody who cares will hear.

Now he lies awake and it's like a sweet torture. He wants that footfall, the light of the door. Can't wait for the sound of Hannibal's clothes hitting the floor.

Can't help but think of all the things that Hannibal would do to him. He's had previews. Last week when Will got out of the shower Hannibal was waiting for him in the hall. Pushed him into the wall face first and plastered himself along Will's back. Mouthing at his neck, tiny thrusts of his hips.

His hands had just been reaching for the towel when the door slammed. Hannibal moving back, licking his lips. Obviously hard and readjusting himself before he goes to see who's come in.

Hannibal is finished making breakfast. Sits down at the table and beckons Will over. Watches Will eat what he's made. He seems to enjoy feeding him. Has been known to hold morsels up with his fingers and gently press them into Will's mouth. Rub his lips with a thumb.

Kisses him deeply when the food is done. Big hands holding his head still while Hannibal fucks his mouth with his tongue.

"I have business to attend to in Baltimore. It will require an overnight," he says when he pulls away. "You will come with me."

Will shivers.

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The clerk at the hotel smirks at Will as he checks them in. Hannibal has one hand on the small of Will's back, possessive.

The business in Baltimore is all a cover for this, Will knows. It's almost sweet that Hannibal brought him here, for a given value of sweet where you want to fuck your stepson.

Will has been touching himself almost feverishly since Hannibal announced the trip. Researched how to prepare himself, didn't bother to delete his browser history- he knows Hannibal checks it when he's at school. Last night he used three fingers on himself and let himself say Hannibal's name out loud.

Doesn't think he was imagining the groan that came from through his door when he did.

He's been half hard since they left the house this morning and it only gets worse in the elevator. The anticipation is killing him.

Of course the room is elegant. Hannibal would stay nowhere else. He is elegant, even as the door closes behind them. Shutting everyone else out finally.

Hannibal falls on him like a starving man. Kissing him, touching him everywhere.

"Take off all of your clothes and get on the bed." He says. Doesn't ask. The time for Will to back out passed some time ago.

He does as he's told and watches in fascination as Hannibal takes off his own clothes. Folds them neatly and stands looking at Will on the bed for a minute. Will can't take his eyes off of Hannibal's cock. Almost angry red.

"Can I?" It's his own voice. Licking his lips.

"Yes." Hannibal comes close enough so that when Will kneels on the bed he can take Hannibal into his mouth.

A hand in his hair pulls tightly, directs him when he falters.

"Good boy," Hannibal says. Grunts and thrusts into Will's mouth.

Will is so hard he's sure he's going to explode. Pulls off because while this is amazing it's not what he wants. Not right now anyway.

"Fuck me, Hannibal come on."

"As you wish." That smile like sharks would smile.

Arranges Will's gangly limbs like wants them. Will on his knees, Hannibal behind him. Using his fingers to check that Will's ready. Pleased sound when he finds that he is.

"I didn't want to wait," Will groans.

"Then I won't disappoint you."

It hurts, of course it does. But he's so turned on that his erection barely flags. Then Hannibal starts moving and all he can do is groan and thrust.

"Don't stop. Jesus fuck, don't stop." He can't stop talking, babbling out whatever reaches his mouth.

"I won't. I'm going to fuck you everywhere. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk. You're mine, Will. Nobody else gets to have you."

The second Hannibal's hand even brushes his dick, Will comes. Hannibal follows a minute later.

Will drowses. When he comes to, Hannibal has ordered room service. Feeds him fruit while they laze.

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Will is sure his mother must know by now.

Though he and Hannibal have only ever spent the full night together in hotels, his stepfather makes the ten step trip to Will's bedroom most nights. At first he tried to be as quiet as he could, whimpering into his pillow as Hannibal swallowed him down or finger fucked him until he felt like he would drown in the feeling of it.

But it soon became clear that even if she did, she was ignoring it. Either enjoying being Mrs Lecter too much to give it up or too wrapped up in the fog of prescriptions Hannibal gets a fellow psychiatrist to write for her.

 

Outside of school Hannibal takes him everywhere with him. To the tailor's, where he watches eagle eyed as a young apprentice takes Will's measurements and the opera where as the curtains go up and darkness comes down he slips his hand onto Will's thigh where nobody can see. Once he even gets a teacher to fetch Will out of class and takes him home while his mother is visiting friends. He spends the whole afternoon touching Will everywhere, hands and tongue and cock. He doesn't seem to have any notion of embarrassment or of things being dirty. Loves tonguing Will open until he cries or pushing Will's head down and holding tightly onto his curls while he takes Hannibal into his mouth.

He thinks one day that if Hannibal ever tires of him and Will has another lover he will have some seriously fucked up ideas about relationships. Then knows that there is no chance of Hannibal letting him go.

Not when the suits arrive from the tailor and they fit Will like a glove, and Hannibal's breathing labours slightly as he shows Will how to do a proper knot in his tie.

"You look so handsome, doesn't he Hannibal?" His mother coos. And he feels guilty because she loves him, she really does. Can't think of the possibility of Hannibal touching her and him both. Pushes it as far away as possible.

"Yes, he does. I am sure our young Will will break many hearts."

His mother touches his cheek then and looks so sad that Will wants to take her in his arms and away from this house. Knows his resolve will only last until Hannibal starts undoing the tie knot he's just done.

 

Of course there is another away trip. To Europe this time, to Italy. Hannibal delights in showing him this and that site, recommending this wine. Feeding him little morsels of whatever from his fork. In Rome he compares Will to one of Caravaggio's scampish little cherubs, all curls and gleeful knowing eyes. At night Will falls asleep in Hannibal's arms.

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His mother dies at the height of summer.

They bury her in Charleston in July, the ladies at the graveside fanning themselves in the heat. Will is in his best suit, which Hannibal brought home the day before. Hannibal is wearing one of his most exquisite person suits, one which gives him the air of a man who will actually miss his wife.

Will won't miss the woman who took to her bed almost right after her wedding and barely stirred until her death. Like a hot house flower fading in a vase, her colour and vitality had drained away. He misses the woman who had gone on camping trips with him and his father, whose hair whipped wildly in the wind as she laughed. Will is a strange enough young man (boy, still) to know that Hannibal had married her for reasons other than love, even if he isn't quite at the point where he can guess it all. Knows that he's one of them but not all.

Even as they stand here at the graveside the movers are emptying his mother's house. The grand old family pile will sit empty and the kudzu will overtake the porch on which Will and his mother had loved to sit. Maybe someday another little boy will pry up the floorboard in Will's room and hide his most precious posessions there.

Underneath Will's crisp white shirt are bite marks and bruises left by Hannibal. Will has left his own marks too- Hannibal seems to enjoy the flashes of violence that sometimes erupt from him. Sweat is making his curls stick to his forehead and he wishes he could be like Miss Dollie and Miss May with their fans. Both have offered to take Will in now that his mother is gone- and they're blood after all. Impressions of violets and tea, flowering gardens. Peaceful and calm, maybe they would let him get a dog, romp in the gardens.

He could forget what he has let Hannibal do to him and what he does to Hannibal. Be a normal sort of boy, maybe. A little odd but good in the end.

But that isn't what makes his blood sing, not really.

Just wants this whole thing over with. He has one or two things he wants from the house-a ring of his mother's, his father's flick knife. Then he will place himself into Hannibal's callused hands and go with him. One night after they had finished Hannibal had drowsily told him of a home in Lithuania, isolated and ancient.

It's more of wolves than dogs.