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All Manner of Uncomfortable Positions

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He didn’t smell like Will, which kept taking Hannibal out of the moment. He tried, eyes closed, breath hot, forehead pressed against the crook of Dimmond’s neck, to focus on his stature. The way their bodies fit together, how he imagined Will’s would fit against his. The thickness of his hair, the curls between Hannibal’s fingers.

Tightening his fist, pulling his hair and Dimmond rolled his head forward, lips brushing against Hannibal’s ear.

“Killing him…” Lips on Hannibal’s jaw, his neck. “It’s not going to make you understand.”

Hannibal wrapped his arm around Dimmond’s back, pulled him closer, pressed his mouth to his shoulder, his clavicle, other hand gripped his outer thigh, fingers pressed hard to soft flesh as he thrusted. Flushed, blood searing, pumping under his skin. Red and wet. Dimmond was as slick as he imagined Will might be. Hannibal dug his nails into his thigh, cock throbbing, aching, pushing himself progressively deeper, farther. Will would be this soft. Softer.

“Just like fucking me isn’t going to make you understand.”

“Quiet.”

Hannibal pulled Dimmond back by his hair and pressed his mouth to his. Lips parting as Hannibal’s tongue forced past them. He didn’t taste how Will tasted in Hannibal’s imagination, so he pulled his mouth away. Pressed his face near Dimmond’s ear, bits of his curls sticking to the spit on Hannibal’s lips. They moved as he breathed heavily against them, hips bucking up nearly off the edge of the bed. Skin against skin, Dimmond’s hands on the sides of Hannibal’s waist, his thighs.

“You…” mouth opening and closing, eyes shut. Hannibal breathed hard against the words. “You know it won’t. Don’t you know that now?”

“I said quiet.” Hard to breathe and talk and fuck and focus. Hannibal’s own eyes screwed shut. He arched his back, gripped Dimmond tighter, pulling them together. Dimmond’s cock sliding between their bellies as Hannibal moved.

“I felt like him, didn’t I?” Dimmond’s voice lower, rougher. “You felt like you were killing him when you killed me.” Words forced up his throat, ascending the broken staircase of bone that was his neck, spilling over the blood dripping from his lips.

Hannibal, in a desperate attempt, clamped his hand over Dimmond’s mouth, forced himself deeper, harder, muscles in his legs tightening painfully as he thrusted up against him, dead weight. Dimmond kept talking.

“You’ve killed me and you’re no closer to understanding how you feel about him.”

Hannibal groaned into him. The last bits of warmth leaving him fast. The pit of Dimmond’s stomach at the beginning of a chill, his skin barely lukewarm. Blood matted his hair and for a moment, Hannibal didn’t care that it wasn’t Will he was fucking. He let some slip into his mouth, coat his tongue.

Something sent a shudder through his body. He gripped Dimmond tighter. Blood slick between their abdomens. The dripping from the wound on his head, slower with each thrust. Dimmond’s head in the crook of Hannibal’s neck and then Will was there, moaning while Hannibal fucked him, tight around him, as raw and as pure as Hannibal knew he would be, and his voice from Dimmond’s mouth-

“Is love that incomprehensible to you?”

The crackling of a match to a wick and Hannibal caught flame. He held his breath as his body went rigid. Hot inside Dimmond, around his cock, fucking his way through the climax. Thrusts slowing at the edge of the release.

And then he breathed a breath of unexpected cool air. Still. Panting, sweat adhering hair to forehead.

Dimmond felt especially cold now. Hannibal pushed him forward, off of him, let his body hit the floor with a dull thud. Still panting. Heart starting to steady, until the panic began to return to him, swifter with each slowing breath. The quick and consuming dread he had felt before, a low rumble, when he stared at Dimmond’s body seconds after he’d wrung the life from it, and realized he felt not a single shred of relief.

He caught his breath. Calmed his thoughts. Hannibal rolled his neck from side to side, stretched the muscles in his legs. Of course this didn’t make him understand. This wasn’t Will.

Will would be better, Hannibal decided.

He’d fuck Will while his blood was still hot.