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A Second Helping

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Hannibal liked this brave new Will. The one that had shown up in his waiting room with his back turned, slowly facing Hannibal to debut his radiant confidence and fresh haircut. The one that made Hannibal wait. The one that said what he wanted and meant it. Will had become more deliberate after his stint of imprisonment; stabler, more grounded without the interference of fever, more keenly aware of the role he was playing now that he knew there was a game. Hannibal watched him with the same focused regard as he had when Will was trembling and defensive-- Will was a freshly changed werewolf, then, mortified at his own power and still reeking of the woods. Now, to Hannibal’s eyes, he’d stepped into himself. Made peace with the moon and bathed in its glow.

This evolved Graham was comfortable in his desires. He gave Hannibal a taste at a time of what those wants were, answering calmly if directly asked, and Hannibal didn’t always need to ask. Their game was such that Will could act and be understood, and Hannibal felt for the first time that he had a match who could understand him in return.

It occured to Hannibal in the stables, Graham pointing a gun at the social worker, that this was a seduction. That while Will’s actions were genuine, they were also performed at a certain aesthetic pitch for Hannibal’s benefit. He let Will know how it fascinated him; brushed his fingertips over his knuckles as he took the gun from him.

Randall Tier’s body on his dining room table sealed the deal. Will was dramatizing for Hannibal’s breathless audience. As he soaked his bloody knuckles, hand gentle on Will’s wrist, Will had kissed him just under the ear. It was like he’d been moved to kiss his lips, thought better of it when he was too close to back down, and felt wrong deflecting to the cheek. Cheek was too chaste. So Will kissed under his ear for a quiet moment, then sat back and watched for Hannibal’s reaction. Hannibal raised his eyebrows and sat with the sensation and its consequences.

“What do you want, Will?”

“I’ll let you know.”

When Will let him know, it didn’t look how Hannibal had expected it.

The next night, Graham provided the meat for dinner. He sliced the ginger. They enjoyed their ‘long pig’, as Will had called it, dined on what Hannibal had concluded was Freddie Lounds and delighted in it. The fire in flickered, illuminating Will’s face as they ate. They talked about good and evil, talked about god. When they finished their full meal-- and their conversation, and the heavy looks exchanged over their wine glasses-- Will stopped Hannibal from clearing their plates. He touched inside his sleeve, fingers loosely grazing his cufflinks.

“I want more.” He said seriously, eyeing the plate Hannibal was leaving with.

“You can have it.” Hannibal replied, then went into the kitchen. He parted with the inedible garnish, delicately removing the porcupine quills he’d arranged. No need to bring them out a second time. There was leftover meat and vegetables, which he scooped onto Will’s plate. Rice had been used sparingly for artistic reasons, but apparently the lack of starch left his guest hungry, which was no good. He gave Will a healthy portion this time, and tried to arrange it with some beauty. It wasn’t half as lovely as the first plate, without all the decorative accoutrements. The colors of the dish were still a treat for the eyes; glistening red and orange peppers, green speckles of parsley on dark meat. Of course Will wanted more.

It pleased him tremendously that Will would request seconds. He never had before. Then again, he’d also never supplied meat like this.

He brought Will’s food to him, then re-took his seat across from him and poured himself some more wine. Will looked contentedly at the plate presented to him, but didn’t lift his silverware yet. He met eyes with Hannibal first, one eyebrow arched.

“Will you sit closer to me?” He asked, and glanced to the head of the table, closest to the glass door to the yard. It was snowing.

Hannibal accepted this invitation, moving his wine glass first, then changing seats to be closer to his companion. Will began eating once Hannibal was close, lifting a bite of rice and meat to his mouth and chewing appreciatively. He licked his lips after swallowing, and made a long show of the way his tongue circled the perimeter around his teeth. His eyes unambiguously locked on Hannibal to make sure he was watching.

Hannibal subconsciously swallowed at the same time Will did. He crossed his ankles under the table and leaned in a bit closer, lips parted slightly as he took in the performance.

Will became interested in his plate, eating more quickly now, like he could barely wait to put more into his mouth once he’d finished the previous bite. Not frenzied, but certainly not the patient and thoughtful way he’d seen Will take his first course. He slowed once he got to the last bites, pushing them together on his plate and sighing about it. Will was looking a little uncomfortable as how much he’d eaten caught up with him, his eyes changed when he cast another look at Hannibal.

Will’s breathing had becoming heavier, and his face looked slightly ruddied around the cheeks. Arousal flared Hannibal’s nostrils. Will smiled, then, sitting back and subtly smoothing a hand just under his gut, where the band of his pants were cutting into the crease at his hip. He wasn’t stuffed to capacity, but he’d undeniably eaten too much too quickly, and the way he was breathing exaggerated the jut of his belly. All this amplified by how he was turning himself on, reflected back at him by Hannibal taking it in, both suspended in a loop of desire.

“You worked up my appetite.” Will grunted, leaning heavily into his vocal fry.

Hannibal tilted his head at that, and moved a curious hand across the table. He just brushed at the most forward of Will’s buttons with his knuckles, testing the waters, then went ahead and put his hand to his stomach. Will’s lashes fluttered, looking practically hypnotized by the touch. Hannibal was gentle, doing a bit of prodding to feel where he was soft and where he was taut. Will was slender and strong; his fingertips felt lean muscle, made round by some consequential bloat. It was wonderfully appealing. Masculine, aesthetically engaging, and the best part of it all was how Will was trembling slightly under the touch. How hot under the collar he was at his own indulgence, how Hannibal had played a part in that by cooking the meal for him.

“You’ll have to bring more meat, next time, so I can feed you better.”

Will shuddered, nodding in agreement. Hannibal was charmed by the glimpses of the Will he’d first met while he was aroused like this-- his shaking protégé. He glanced down to confirm that Will was not just straining against his shirt, but that his cock was filling out a hard line in his slacks. Hannibal dropped his hand from his belly, which Will huffed unhappily at, but smoothed along the outline of him against his thigh, drawing out an entirely different noise.

“Touch yourself. No--” Hannibal stopped Will’s wrist from going to his groin, directing him back up to his gut and mimicking the rubbing he’d been doing for him. “Here. Go on.” Will’s face was flushed, now, warm from ear to ear. He very tenderly rubbed at his own belly, drawing slow circles around the top. Content with that, Hannibal went to work undoing Will’s belt for him. Opening it up earned a sigh of relief, Will’s stomach allowed to rest more heavily in his lap. “Is that better?” Hannibal cooed, skillful fingers unbuttoning his pants and moving the zipper down, helping Will’s cock out into the open through his briefs. He’d anticipated getting Will off with his hand, but seeing it there, red and straining, Hannibal wanted nothing more than to put it in his mouth. He dropped to his knees with some semblance of grace, helping Will’s thighs apart with his hands and going in.

Will gasped, fingers twitching, breaking the perfect circle he’d been tracing around his belly. Hannibal wrapped his fingers around the base of Will’s cock and licked a wet stripe up it, then opened his lips and took him down. He bobbed his head zealously, eyes shut as he sucked him off. Will threw his head back, one hand still on his distended middle, the other groping for purchase in Hannibal’s perfect hair. Hannibal had to yank Will’s pants down over his ass so his tongue could roam further. He lifted his hips to make it easier, and Hannibal smirked in gratitude for his cooperation.

“You ate so greedily tonight, Will, I thought I deserved a helping.”

Will nearly laughed at that, but Hannibal’s mouth was right back on the underside of his dick, lapping there and then giving precious attention to his balls, licking and sucking while his hand worked him off. He could feel his orgasm building, magnified by the warm weight of his belly. He stroked just under his navel, taking a look at himself. Round gut, hard cock, Hannibal sucking at the slit and flicking his eyes up to meet him.

“Look at you, Will. If you keep filling up, you’re going to fill out.” Hannibal snaked one hand up to cover Will’s, tracing soothing side-to-side movements with him along the heavy underside of his belly. “Would you like that? To put on a pound or two, watch yourself grow for me? Because of me?” He jerked Will off faster in his fist, sitting back on his heels and staring up at him reverently. “I want that. For us. Let me give it to you.”

Will groaned helplessly through his orgasm, shooting semen directly into Hannibal’s face. It streaked his cheek and nose, a stray dot catching his eyelash. He blinked, then retrieved a napkin from the table just above him to clean himself off. He smiled at Will as he wiped at his eye, looking deliriously proud of him for having just come on his face. “Good.” He said, then, “very good.”

Will was reeling. An unsteady hand was still petting his gut even as Hannibal pulled away. He sucked in a breath to try and straighten out, moving to wriggle his pants back up and put himself away. Hannibal cleared his plate and disappeared into the kitchen.

Will glanced down at himself again, fingers ghosting over the most strained of his shirt buttons, imagining what more damage they could possibly do now that he was comfortable with his own fantasies. He gulped as he glanced over his shoulder to hear Hannibal call from the kitchen,

“Dessert will be ready in just a moment.”