Hannibal gave the door to his guest room a knock. An answer came in the form of an indecipherable rush was all he needed to open the door.
Will was out of bed already, the sleep clothes Hannibal had given his discarded haphazardly onto the bed. Will was working the final buttons closed up the plaid shirt Will had had on the previous evening. He gave a final swipe at the shirt over his rumpled jeans, a futile attempt to rid the wrinkles hard set into the fabric, before looking at Hannibal with wide blue eyes.
“Hannibal, hi.” Will said distracted. He moved to a decorative mirror on the wall, his hand carding through the mess that had become his hair in the night. He managed to tamper it down just a bit and glanced back at Hannibal with some composure.
It was a far cry from how Will showed up at his doorstep, distressed and anguishing over some new problem not unlike his time with Alana. Curiously though, Will had not spilt the entire nature of his distress, only hint at his troubles over his emotions, even after working his way through a fair bit of the fine whiskey Hannibal kept on hand (which may or may nor be for this specific purpose).
All well. He at least had this morning to use to his advantage. He gestured the glass of water and the pair of pills he carried as a peace offering.
“I thought you may need this.”
“Really? Do I look that bad?” Will asked, but he moved forward anyway to claim both. But as he moved closer, a scent rolled off of him, making Hannibal pause.
Will was thankfully distracted with his medicine while Hannibal’s mind raced to catch up with the new information. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to school his face into a pleasant expression while Will knocked back the pills with water.
“My pleasure.” Hannibal managed to get out in a casual tone even as the smell invaded his nose. “You do seem rather troubled this morning. I suppose the hangover from last night is setting in?”
Will let out a short, bitter bark of a laugh. “More like reality. I have a lecture on Behavior Analysis Applications in thirty minutes.”
“Right? I’m an idiot, showing up at your doorstep and drinking myself stupid on a school night.”
“You are no such thing. You were in distress and in need of company.”
Will snorted. “Sure, sure. Listen, I really hate to drink and run, but-“
Normally, Hannibal would be very put out by this. He had already taken the time to prepare breakfast for two that would go to waste, and the morning he had imagined between the two sharing would be lonely. But now with that smell taunting him so, he could only nod.
“I’ll show you to the door.”
For once, he was glad Will wasn’t one to linger. With that farewell, Will was out the door and off to his car, disappearing out of Hannibal’s driveway onto the sleepy morning streets. Hannibal watched him go with a certain relief at being alone with his feelings.
But being alone let lose a flurry of thoughts and realizations.
That smell- Will smelt of sweat and semen.
Is that what troubled Will? A bout of hormones leading to...this? Was he truly this voyeuristic?
Hannibal shook his head, but the thoughts kept coming.
Had this been what the night had been climbing to, a twisting sexual tension Will hoped to relieve? Had the night frustrated him enough to force him to take matters into his own hands. And with himself only down the hall at that matter.
His mind provided salacious imagery, Will slipping a hand down his pants and grasping himself. He’d stroke himself slow and deliberate, almost painfully so. He’d stifle his sounds with his spare hand while he sought his slow, torturous pleasure. He’d then work himself up to a fever pitch where’d let go of all pretenses, stroking himself quicker, thrusting into his own hand, biting hard into his hand until the copper tang of blood seeped through, biting through the groans threatening to spill the name of such his object of lust...
Hannibal suddenly felt like he was boiling in his fresh suit. A burning coil of desire pooled itself in his stomach. He shifted his step, realizing that his pants had grown tighter.
A part of him admonished himself. He’d worked so hard to keep his composure, to keep an iron grip on his desires, only for Will Graham to break it so easily. Nobody had the right to have that power over him, and he was not about to let Will be the exception.
The other part of him craved Will Graham, wanted him panting in bed with his legs spread suggestively. Wanted him moaning freely as he chased his own pleasure, wanted him to ruin the sheets he laid on, damn the social etiquette. He wanted Will shuttering with pleasure, calling out the answer to his distress.
The answer Hannibal’s mind supplied was own name called out in desperate, breath cry on Will Graham’s tongue. The image did nothing to quell the growing arousal Hannibal still had to address.
Hannibal took a second to consider his options there in his doorway. It didn’t take him long before he set his course back to his guest room.
The smell had grown weaker, but it still clung in the air even more so as he inspected the bed. He’d have to wash the sheets, he noted idly.
As such, it didn’t bother him to climb back into bed and loosen his trousers. He curled his hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly. Pleasure built up quickly as his mind conjured more images of Will.
He imagined Will’s slow undoing under him, each moan and whimper a product of his hand. He could worship Will’s body, laying down touches in awe at the awe inspiring body he knew hide under those baggy flannel shirts and chunky coats. Tease him gently to the point of madness. Or, he could bite and scratch until Will screamed himself hoarse in ecstasy.
Did it really matter when Will took it all gladly, willingly giving himself over to Hannibal’s whims? The thought brought a groan to his lips as he quickened his hand. He found himself thrusting his hips into his hand, eager to chase his relief to this fantasy.
Hannibal wondered of this was how Will felt at night, a slave to his lust. Lost in his desires for Hannibal that he’d given to carnal desires.
Oh to have that power over Will Graham.
That thought sent him over the edge. He thrust and came with a quiet gasp, shuttering as pleasures overtook him. He stroked himself with abandon as he chased the feeling down to its end.
And as he finished, he was left panting in bed, his own scent adding to the one Will left behind. He sat there basking in the aftermath for a long minute. Afterwards, he fixed his trousers and removed himself from the sullied bed.
His lust was sated for the moment and that left him with a mess to clean up. Quick and efficiently, he removed the sheets and brought them to his laundry room. It didn’t take but minutes for the evidence of his slip up to be washed away.
What didn’t wash away was the fact that he wanted Will Graham, wanted the same power over him that Will held over him.
Perhaps acquiring another bottle of that whiskey would help move things along.