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The first time, Hannibal came with a whimper.
Will, far too satisfied for his own good, smirked up at him from between his legs and pulled back for a languid stretch that slipped the blankets off the both of them and bunched down against their legs.
“Mornin’,” Will drawled, sex and sleepiness the rare times the Southern twang came out in full force. “Sleep well?”
“Awoke better,” Hannibal admitted, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before reaching out for Will. Their fingers slipped together, squeezed, released again. Will’s smile was pleased. He rolled his shoulders.
“I’m on coffee, you’re on breakfast.” he said, leaning over Hannibal to kiss him chastely on the lips before nuzzling their noses together. “And on dogs. I’m taking a shower.”
The second time, Hannibal woke already sated, blinking confusedly up at their ceiling. His chest was heaving, his stomach twitching under Will’s palm. Will’s smile was cat-like, pleased beyond reason.
“I’m disappointed to have missed the main event,” Hannibal murmured.
“You seemed to enjoy it so much last time.” Will stretched, his body long and lithe above Hannibal, beautiful in the first traces of early morning sun. “Besides,” he said, baring his teeth in a grin, “there’s still more to come.”
Hannibal had Will in his hand, that day, arching over his chest in wild undulations. They didn’t talk about what had happened, but that did not mean it didn’t happen again.
And again.
Some days, just for the joy of it. Others, Will seemed to want something.
“The dogs are lonely,” he said, draping himself over Hannibal’s heaving chest. “Just the two of them, with all that yard to roam?”
“Will.”
“They’re pack animals,” Will added, amused, fingers tracing circles over Hannibal’s skin. What few scars he had, Will loved touching and playing with, and he gave them their due attention that morning until Hannibal rolled them both over and pinned Will to the bed.
“You want another dog.”
“I want another dog.”
Then it was a boat.
An old broken down truck for Will to fix up.
For Hannibal to make craft beer in the basement.
Pizza. Goddamn take-out pizza that leaked oil onto paper napkins and made Hannibal’s skin crawl.
It wasn’t as though Hannibal wouldn’t say no to Will, it was that Will knew he wouldn’t. There was a distinct pleasure in being able to wheedle what he wanted out of his husband by using such blatant coercion as blowing him to wake him up in the morning.
What amused WIll even more, was that Hannibal never once attempted the same tactics with him .
Oh, Hannibal blew him. Hannibal spent more time with Will on his tongue than any of their dozens of fancy wines. Hannibal went at Will like a starving man, until Will was breathless with pleasure.
But Hannibal never had an ulterior motive, never tried to use that talented tongue to work compromises or gifts from Will. He touched Will because it pleased him to do so, because bringing Will to the brink of pleasure over and over again turned Hannibal on more than anything else.
Once, Hannibal may have taken, or manipulated. But now, after all they’d been through, if Hannibal wanted something from Will, he asked . No cajoling, no tricks. He asked, and if Will said no, that was the end of that.
Sometimes, Will said no just for the pleasure of having Hannibal listen to him.
They had flipped the script. The inequality that Will had often felt forced upon him had finally vanished. Now, Will held power he had never held before, and he relished it.
It had been years, now, since the Dragon and the cliffs, and they had moved once or twice, leaving no trace or trail, finding - or building - safehouses across two continents. Will enjoyed the freedom of it. He grew out his beard, hiding the ugly scar on his cheek that Dolarhyde had left him, he let his skin grow brown in the sun, sometimes he smoked.
He loved tracing his fingers over the silver hairs that had started to appear at Hannibal’s temples as they sat together and just talked, reminiscing or daydreaming about whatever life they wanted.
They could have that now, together.
They did have that, and so much more.
There were five dogs in the house, now, and Will let them out into the backyard and locked the door behind them before tiptoeing upstairs again.
Hannibal wasn’t a heavy or a light sleeper. He just slept. The trust between them allowed him to show his back to the door, where he wouldn’t have a year ago, or to keep his eyes closed as Will moved about the space trying not to wake him.
Will didn’t care, really, if he did; the end goal was to get Hannibal off and to grin like a Cheshire cat about it before demanding something so profoundly ridiculous it was hard to keep a straight face. So Will lifted the covers at Hannibal’s feet and crawled beneath them to settle between Hannibal’s thighs. He nuzzled there a moment, just breathing Hannibal in, before pressing his lips to the growing bulge in his briefs with a hum.
Hannibal always slept through this part. It was a wonder to behold. In the beginning, Will had expected Hannibal to be always on the alert. He'd thought he would, like Will, awaken instantly and perhaps violently at the slightest of brushes.
But even then, before the trust between them had built, Hannibal had never lashed out at Will. Not since the last of their mutual violence had taken them over a cliff.
Will eased his fingers into the waistband of Hannibal’s briefs, carefully easing them down his thighs. Hannibal was thickening slowly, morning wood growing into something more under Will’s scrutiny.
Hannibal was the first man Will had ever tasted, and he would be the last. And it never stopped being slightly overwhelming, that first moment where Will sucked the head into his mouth and heard Hannibal huff out a soft moan in his sleep. The first bob of his head, easy and quick, but slowly growing into something difficult, a challenge Will wanted to meet.
The taste, the scent of Hannibal, musky and warm. Will had grown to crave it.
He took his time finding his rhythm, and was so engrossed that when a heavy hand landed on his head it startled him.
“Stay,” Hannibal’s voice was a purr, low and muffled by the blankets, but Will heard him. His lips spread in a smile, as much as they could, and he continued to suck, taking his time slicking the skin against his tongue and between his lips until he had to slurp on his way up to avoid making a huge mess.
When he tried to pull off, he found the weight of Hannibal’s hand still preventing him.
This was new.
Usually, Will teased the man to orgasm and sat back to preen, and even when both were awake and enjoying each other Hannibal rarely held Will down or made him do anything.
This felt thrilling, illicit almost. Will reached to tug the blankets down a little and caught Hannibal’s eye as soon as he could see him. The other tilted his head, eyes still glassy with sleep, and raised an eyebrow.
“I said stay, Will,” he repeated.
A shudder rolled down Will’s spine, the chill a direct contrast to the sudden heat that flooded his belly. His cock twitched in his sweatpants.
After all this time, things could still be new, could still thrill Will to no end. He hummed around Hannibal, letting the weight against his nape guide him down just a little further.
“Good boy.” Hannibal’s voice, smooth and silky, sank into Will. Will was hungry for him, now more than ever. He let his jaw loosen, as much as he could, relaxing his throat for the insistent push of Hannibal’s cock.
He met Hannibal’s gaze, eyes wide, knowing. He could see Hannibal’s desire, the demands he wanted to make, lurking just beneath the surface. Pointedly, Will rocked his own hips into the bed, showing off his approval.
Hannibal’s fingers tightened in his hair, holding Will still and steady. For a moment, Will wondered how far he could make Hannibal go. How much he could get Hannibal to demand and take.
And then Hannibal began to move, rocking his hips up towards Will’s face.
It was still gentle, despite the obvious dominance; Hannibal allowed Will to adjust before pushing deeper the next time, and deeper again. They hadn’t played this way in a while, this cat and mouse chase for power, and it was clear it had started to boil up within them.
The first time Will choked, Hannibal’s fingers teased over his scalp to ease the tension from him. The second time, Hannibal pushed deeper.
And Will let him.
He surrendered to the man controlling his movements, the man who was his entire life, and let himself be used.
It was different from the control people had over Will before their fall, this was filled with trust and adoration, warmth and compassion. Will was used for pleasure, not for a cruel gain. His mind was his own, his choices the same, and as he swallowed thickly around the cock buried in his throat he moaned, slipping a hand down between his own legs to stroke himself off as Hannibal fucked his mouth.
Will felt raw, his throat fluttering around the intrusion, adjusting bit by bit. Hannibal’s control was coated in tenderness, affection that left its bruises as sure as violence did.
But this time, the marks were a badge of honor, something Will would wear with pride. This time, Hannibal gripped him to hold him close, not to shatter him.
Hannibal’s thighs tensed around Will as he grew close. Will tried to keep his gaze on Hannibal’s face even as Hannibal pulled him down more roughly and brought tears to his eyes. Will didn’t want to miss a moment, not a single expression.
Hannibal came with a groan, his grip nearly painful on Will’s hair as he hauled him up to kiss him. He licked the taste of himself from Will’s lips and brought his hand between them to shove down Will’s pants and palm over his erection.
“Yes,” Will gasped, releasing himself so that Hannibal could pull at him instead, stroking quickly over the damp head. Will braced himself on Hannibal’s shoulders, fucking forward into Hannibal’s too-dry, too-tight, not-enough grip. He groaned, writhing in Hannibal’s lap as the edge raced towards him.
“Remarkable boy, you’re a temptation,” Hannibal whispered, his own voice rough from pleasure and sleep, and it was that that pulled Will’s orgasm from him with a shuddering cry that he smeared against Hannibal’s cheek.
“Fuck, oh fuck…” Will trembled, adrenaline running cool through his veins, before he settled into Hannibal’s lap properly and wrapped his arms around his neck. Forehead to forehead, he regarded Hannibal before smiling and kissing him softly. “Not so bad yourself,” he whispered back, grinning. “I can’t get enough of you.”
They stayed that way for a few long moments, just catching their breath, stroking familiar skin, holding familiar weight. Then Will turned his nose against Hannibal’s hair with a smile and kissed the corner of his eye where laugh lines were prominent.
“I was thinking -”
“Were you?”
“Mmm,” Will laughed. “What’s castle Lecter like this time of year?”