Will Graham is nervous.
He shakes as he rides his bike, nearly crashing into a car that has come to a stop in front of him. Hannibal had invited him to a restaurant in ritzy center city, a restaurant he has never even heard of, and upon googling had nearly shit himself. The cheapest appetizer was $60. They have eleven types of water. The wine menu read like absolute gibberish, and the food menu read like fucking Klingon. After spending an hour pouring over it and losing his mind, he saw at the bottom that this was last season’s menu, and the current season's menu is secret and will be published at its conclusion. Will had nearly thrown his laptop through the window.
Worst of all, Will could not even figure out how to pronounce the name of the restaurant.
That he is dealing with a man of abundant and ridiculous means, possibly extending past his wildest (admittedly limited) dreams of wealth and luxury does not escape Will. He thinks that paying for Bean's vet bill would be nothing for Hannibal, and doesn't feel so bad.
He knows he’s running late. He knows his idea of a splurge is getting a gyro at the food cart on campus. He peddles faster and faster, knowing he has to choose between being heinously late and sweating through the slightly overlarge suit jacket Beverly had borrowed for him from a friend she had said looked to be roughly his size.
“Beverly doesn’t know shit.” Will mutters miserably, the black suit jacket nearly covering his fingers to nearly the first knuckle, bunching between his hands and the handle bars of his bicycle. He knows that he’s going to show up drenched in sweat and disgusting. He moans miserably as he turns a corner, imagining not only being unable to pay for Bean’s surgery, but Hannibal finding him lacking.
Will flushes. They have only been talking for a few days, but Hannibal has really grown on him. They had stopped talking on Grindr entirely and exchanged numbers and when Hannibal goes awhile between texts he feels adrift and anxious, suspended in anticipation waiting for the next. Beverly had even begun to make fun of him for being so attached to his phone and so attached to Hannibal. Will denies it outwardly, but to himself, he cannot deny the attraction he f--
Will’s thoughts come to a screeching halt as his wheel catches in a crack in the street and he flies in the air, landing hard on his knees and arms and hands. He barely manages to crawl out of traffic in time, and lets out a low wail as the front tire of his bike is crushed in traffic. He barely manages to pull it out of the street beside him.
Will sits on the sidewalk, dazed and aching with his bruised knees and scraped up hands, his partially wrecked bike beside him. He feels disoriented and nauseated. He looks at his ruined bike and feels the urge to cry. Then suddenly it hits him like a ton of bricks: Hannibal.
“Fuck.” Will mutters allowed, fighting not to let tears fall. He takes out his phone and opens his app. He sees that he’s already nearly fifteen minutes late and tries to text, but his fingers hurt too bad. He hates talking on the phone, but figures he owes Hannibal at least an explanation. They have not spoken yet, and this is hardly the first impression that Will wants to make, but he feels entirely out of options.
With shaking hands he chooses Hannibal’s number. He shakes as it rings.
“Hello, Will.” He answers and Will is momentarily dumbfounded and electrified by the sound of his voice, soft, rich, and with an accent he cannot even begin to place.
“H-hi...Hannibal.” He says, and it does nothing to mask his pain and despair. He feels the switch in Hannibal before he hears it, from mild disappointment to concern. Something in his breathing does it.
“Will, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” The genuine concern, the slight fear, just the sound of him, cracks Will even more than the fall had. Fat tears begin to slide down his face. His breath hitches. He barely restrains an open sob.
“My bike.” He whimpers weakly and when Hannibal shushes him softly through the phone it feels like a caress.
“Did you get into an accident on the way here, Will?”
Will nods, only to suddenly remember that they are on the phone and Hannibal can’t see him. “Y-yeah.” He says, embarrassed. “My bike is wrecked.”
“Are you hurt?” Hannibal asks and Will can tell that he is not man, only honestly worried.
“My hands...” Is all Will says as he fights to calm his breathing.
“Do you need medical attention?” Hannibal asks and Will can’t help but snort at the formality of it, which turns to a cough around the snot dripping down his face. He carelessly wipes it on the sleeve of his too large blazer. “I am a doctor, Will.”
Hannibal says, not unkindly and Will gasps. Everyone always jokes about hooking a rich doctor for themselves. He bites his own lip.
“I’m sorry I’m not very good at dating.” Will says instead and Hannibal laughs, low and long and pleased. Will feels warm.
“Will you please let me come take a look at you?” Asks Hannibal and Will sighs.
“Aren’t you already at the restaurant?” Will returns in a small voice.
“Yes, but how am I to enjoy our date knowing that you are laying half dead on the side of the road? Taking care of you would be no trouble at all, and would even ease my mind. Won’t you allow me to soothe my own troubled conscience, dear boy?”
Will flexes his fingers and gasps in pain. When Hannibal puts it like that it sounds so reasonable. He feels something in his stomach flip at being called ‘dear boy’ so casually and with such warmth.
“Ok, Hannibal.” He says softly.
“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal says, as though Will is doing him a great favor by beckoning him from a beautiful restaurant full of fine food to the side of the road to kiss his booboos. Will pinks a little at the very thought.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Will looks around for street signs. “I’m on 34th, next to Pappa’s Pizza.”
Will hears the sounds of Hannibal getting up and walking, moving through the restaurant. He feels warm.
“Alright. You stay put. I will be there soon. Goodbye, Will.”
“Bye, Hannibal.” Will returns and lets his phone down on the sidewalk beside him. He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them a giant black car, intimidating and gleaming pulls up beside the curb. He watches as the hazard lights flash on and Hannibal steps out from the drivers side.
The sight of him makes Will’s breath catch in his throat. He’s tall and lean, with dark eyes and devastating cheekbones. His lips are full, hair held back with subtle gel, swept away to enhance everything that's striking about his unusual face.
He’s dressed in an array of patterns, all chosen to compliment. His clothes fit him like a lavish second skin. Will’s eyes zero in on his hands, large and starkly veined.
“H-hi.” Will stutters. Hannibal’s shoes gleam as he comes toward him.
“Hello, yourself.” Hannibal returns, smooth and fond, and Will feels himself physically begin to melt.
“I-I’m sorry I look so terrible.” Will says and averts his eyes. He nervously takes his bottom lip between his teeth and Hannibal can feel the beginning of a low groan deep in his throat. “This isn’t what I--”
“It is perfectly fine, Will.” Hannibal says, and Will believes him. “I think it might be truly impossible for you to look terrible.” Will blushes, long lashes clumped and black with his earlier tears. “May I take a look?”
Will nods and Hannibal fluidly kneels beside him. Will flinches a little as he gingerly touches his scalp, checking for knots. He makes him look into his eyes and follow his finger, searching for any signs of concussion, and Will momentarily loses himself in their depths. He sees it. He feels it. He knows it, even though he has trouble believing it: This man wants him.
This man wants him bad.
“No concussion.” Hannibal says, soft and low, tinged with his desire. Will feels himself open up beneath it. Unconsciously he bends his head back, exposing his neck and offering his lips to be kissed. Hannibal seems momentarily at war with himself, then he puts the tempting boy’s health first.
“How did you fall?” He asks, and Will feels it like a caress. He shivers, so lost in the man’s presence he forgets to answer. “Will, how did you fall?”
“Oh!” Will returns to reality, delightfully flushed in his embarrassment. “I, um, on my hands and knees.”
He knows that Hannibal is trying to be a gentleman, but he can almost feel the thought occur to him and he turns impossibly even more red. Hannibal, for his part, looks entirely unabashed. Even though he may have never done anything like that, Will has seen enough porn to know just what he’s thinking.
“In the middle of a busy street is not usually the most appropriate place for that.”
Will bites his lip, yet again, he curls up within the oversized jacket. His hands had been scraped raw and he groans as the material drags against them.
“Let me take a look, Will.”
Will offers a small hand and Hannibal takes it in one of his own. Will is momentarily startled by how big and dark those hands look in comparison to his own. He shivers.
“It looks like just some minor scrapes.” Hannibal says. “I have a first aid kit in my trunk. May I?”
Will nods, feeling oddly bereft as Hannibal momentarily leaves his side to fetch the kit from the car.
When Hannibal arrives with the first aid kit its unlike any Will had ever seen before. Instead of a garish plastic case its a tasteful leather bag. Will imagines its something a doctor might have used in the Victorian era. He sits still, pliant and cooperative as Hannibal cleans and dresses the scrapes on his hands, even as they sting.
Will pouts. “This isn’t how I wanted my first date to go at all.” He says and is immediately horrified at himself. How inexperienced and juvenile he must look next to this man, this doctor, with his fancy car and fancy restaurants and gleaming leather shoes.
“Your first date?” Hannibal asks and Will wants to die.
“No, well I mean...” He begins, trying to desperately backpedal and coming up with nothing at all. He’s kissed two boys and one girl, but hardly gone farther than that. He’s certainly never been to the movies or to dinner or even talked to any of them much. “Yeah. It is.” Will eventually concedes and Hannibal’s brilliant smile makes his heart flutter.
“Well, this won’t do at all then.” Hannibal says and Will feels his heart sink, only to veritably squawk with surprise and delight as the older man effortlessly scoops him up into his arms. “You don’t really want to go to Caiazzovani’s do you?”
“Where?” Asks Will and Hannibal smiles just a little bit knowingly, but mostly fondly.
“The restaurant we were supposed to go to tonight.”
“Oh.” Will tucks down his head, buries it Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal feels something dark and protective flare low and hot within him. “Can I be honest with you, Hannibal?”
“I am not used to places like that at all.” Will says quietly. “I’m not opposed to them, either, but I don’t have the frame of reference to even begin to like them or not.”
“Oh, Will.” Hannibal breathes in the scent of his hair, he holds him closer and feels Will melt into it, bird-boned and frail. “Tell me what you want, Will. Any place at all. I’ll take you there. I want to salvage the night, if I can.”
“You’ve already done more than enough.” Will says, and for a moment debates asking for McDonald’s just to watch the classy older gentleman recoil in horror.
“I have not yet begun to do.” Hannibal corrects, and Will whispers the name of a place in his ear. Hannibal delicately places him in the passenger seat and Will watches the sway of his hips as he walks around the car. Will flushes, suddenly inundated by the scents of the inside of the car. It somehow even smells expensive. He feels small within it, off center and out of place, the balance only returning to his universe when Hannibal slides in the car beside him.
He thinks of his bike as Hannibal begins to pull away. “But--”
“Don’t worry about it. I shall take care of it.” Hannibal says, and Will can’t find it within himself to argue. He basks under the attention and warmth, glowing with delight. For the first time in a long time he feels taken care of. He feels safe.
He sees Hannibal's hand resting beside him as he drives, and shyly reaches for it. He awkwardly entwines their fingers and catches a glimpse at Hannibal’s delight in the mirror, his smile revealing wickedly sharp teeth. Will wonders where he’s from originally, but thinks it might be rude to ask.
“I grew up in Lithuania.” Hannibal says, answering the younger man’s question for him. “Not a lot of dentists about back in the day.” He says with a wry smile, having noticed Will looking at his teeth. Will looks abashed and Hannibal has fallen in love with that look, cherubic and youthful, pink with bashfulness.
“I think they’re great.” Will says, immediately feeling like an idiot. When Hannibal clicks his teeth, biting down with a decisive snap, Will feels heat pool in his gut. “Uh, I grew up around New Orleans, kind of.” He offers.
“Really? You haven’t an accent.”
“Jus’ you wait ‘till you get me mad, Hannibal. It comes out when I get all worked up like.” Will let’s the natural cadence he had carried up until his mid teens color his words. He feels the air in the car change. Between them electricity jolts and fries. He knows he has Hannibal’s attention. He feels warm.
“Well, I hadn’t planned on making you mad, Will; but now I think I must change those plans.”
“I’m already worked up enough. I’m bruised up and my bike is wrecked. Be nice to me tonight at least, make me mad next time.” Will balks at his own presumption, anxiety spooling tight in his gut.
“Dually noted.” Hannibal replies. “Second date idea: Make Will Mad.”
Will rolls his eyes, truly in his element with the banter flowing freely between them.
“But at least be nice tonight.”
“I shall endeavor to behave myself.”
“Don’t endeavor too hard.” Will counters and sees the teasing edge fall slightly from Hannibal, and for the barest of seconds his want is palpable. Will feels terrified. Elated. Electric. Then he sees Della’s Gelato pass them from his window. He is glad that Beverly had mentioned it to him once. He had struggled to think of something which was not too pedestrian for the man beside him.
“Um, Hannibal, I think it was on the last block.”
“Apologies.” The older man replies as he searches for parking. “You are quite distracting.”
Will flushes with delight and Hannibal feels his self control being sorely tested. He squeezes Will’s hand a little, relishing the feel of the delicately boned fingers in his grasp. He idly begins to circle a finger around the protruding bone of the boy’s wrist and watches his pulse begin to pound in his neck after a few soft touches. Hannibal wonders if he will have him tonight. He thinks that perhaps he could.
He catches Will eyeing him in the mirror, not subtle at all, blue eyes gleaming with previous tears and his current fascination. Hannibal sees him eyeing his lips. Hannibal knows that he could have him tonight, if he wanted.
After Hannibal parks the car he directs Will to remain seated as he takes his seatbelt off. The question in Will’s eyes is clear, but he does as he’s told. He feels flustered and delighted as Hannibal comes over to his side of the car, opens the door, and holds out a hand for him.
Will takes his hand with delight, lacing their fingers together as he is gently pulled from the vehicle and onto the sidewalk.
“Thank you.” He says quietly, unable to look Hannibal in the eyes, entirely unused to being treated with such care.
“Anytime, dear boy.” Hannibal says and Will’s stomach flips at the endearment, dropped so casually and with such unconscious fondness that Will suddenly feels the desire to kiss him. It hits him like a ton of bricks, leaving him winded and disoriented as Hannibal leads him back to Della’s.
Will finds himself hyperaware of their surroundings and the people around him, the looks they receive. He can feel the disapproval, their age gap having escaped him as a problem until a woman blatantly looks at their entwined hands with barely concealed disapproval. Will vibrates with her displeasure, feeling battered by it.
He feels soothed as they stop at the corner. Hannibal takes his face into a large hand. Will feels encompassed by his presence and revels in his affection. He thinks for one moment that he might be kissed, but instead the older man leans down, nearly pressing his lips to his ear. Will shivers as his breath tickles his sensitive skin.
“You look positively ill.” Hannibal says. “Are you alright?”
Will sighs. “This is very new for me.” He wiggles his fingers a little in Hannibal’s grip.
“Would you be more comfortable if I refrained from public displays of affection?” Hannibal asks and Will frowns. The thought of Hannibal stopping touching him is unbearably unpleasant. He shakes his head and tightens his hold on Hannibal’s hand tellingly. Hannibal beams and Will feels the floor drop out from under him.
“I think you would be more embarrassed than me.” Will says quietly. “I’m not exactly...accomplished.” Hannibal’s fingers trace his jaw and Will leans into it. “My friend borrowed this jacket for me from somebody else. It looks stupid.”
“I will not pretend to be in favor of the jacket.” Hannibal says and Will casts his eyes down miserably. “But I will also not pretend to not be completely in favor of you.”
“Oh.” Is all Will says, surprised and delighted.
“Such a sweet boy, so concerned for my image already. Anyone who sees you on my arm would be jealous, of this I have no doubt. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”
"I'm a creature, alright." Will pulls away from him, still leaving their fingers tightly entwined. “Shut up and buy me gelato.” He mutters, apparent annoyance completely belied by the fact that he has become permanently flushed with delight.
“As you wish.” Hannibal agrees blithely and continues to lead him toward the shop, a quaint place done in mostly soft blues and famed for incredible gelato in more flavors than a person could eat in a lifetime.
Hannibal holds the door open for him and Will thanks him awkwardly as he passes through the door to be faced with a wall to wall case of gelato. Hannibal watches as his eyes widen with childish joy and the satisfaction he receives from the look of pure wonder is immense. Will has wanted to sample some of their gelato for a year, but never had the money for it. He looks at Hannibal, as if for permission to move forward and select what he likes. Hannibal grants it with a nod.
Will bounces toward the case, taking in all the flavors with fascination. He decisively walks to the chocolate section.
“Can I try the chocolate espresso and the dark chocolate mint?” He asks the girl behind the counter, who gives him two tiny spoons. Will tries them both and groans.
“Oh my god!” He says and Hannibal snakes and arm around him, thumb idly playing with the jut of his hip bone through the fabric of clothes. Will feels warm and decidedly possessed.
“A chocolate lover, I take it?”
“Can I try the three chocolate and the chocolate toffee, please?” Will asks and the woman produces two more spoons. He savors each of these. Hannibal watches as he takes several more samples. He strokes him idly as he savors each little mouthful.
“I think its time to pick one, Will.” Hannibal says softly and with fondness and Will looks sheepishly at the woman behind the counter, an apology on his lips.
“You can get up to four kinds in our extra large cup.” She says and Will looks at Hannibal, unsure of what he can choose.
“Pick your four flavors, Will.” Hannibal says and Will’s eyes widen.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all that!”
“How about this? I’ll help you.” Hannibal says and this seems to soothe Will, who immediately rattles off a monstrous combination of delicious chocolatey gelato death. He watches in delight as an impossible tower of gelato is piled into a cup for him.
“Anything for you, sir?” The woman behind the counter asks. She smiles fondly at Will, clearly finding him adorable. Hannibal commends her taste at least.
“A small lemon verbena.”
The woman nods and deftly scoops some of the light yellow gelato into a cup for him. She places them on the counter by the register and Hannibal passes her a gleaming black card before she can even name the price. Will watches as he takes the card back and grabs both of their desserts, napkins, and spoons. Will’s towering cup of gelato is almost too large for hannibal to hold it in one hand. Will follows him to a small blue table in the back corner. Will climbs into the booth first and Hannibal sits beside him, throwing an arm around him. Will leans into his side.
“Thank you, Hannibal.” He says and the man presses a light kiss to the top of his head.
“Go on, eat.” The older man directs and Will does as he’s told with abandon. The moans he cannot suppress vibrate through Hannibal’s entire body. His grip tightens on Will, who hardly notices as he is fully focused on reveling in the rich flavors of his gelato. Hannibal watches as he barely gets through the very top of the pile of ice cream before throwing his head back with a moan. He eats like a starving person presented with food for the first time, and Hannibal feels a lick of anger run through him. He decides then and there to take the boy grocery shopping soon.
“If I eat anymore I’m going to die.” Will says and Hannibal smiles.
“Then relax a moment.” Hannibal takes measured bites of his own dessert. “It will still be here.”
Will nods and rests against him, feeling deeply sated and on the verge of a doze. Then he catches a strange scent.
“I smell...flowers?” He tries, nose wrinkling adorably.
“Very good, Will. It’s my gelato.”
“What is it?”
“Lemon verbena. It’s an herb. Have you ever tasted it before?”
Will shakes his head.
“Would you like to?”
Will nods immediately and Hannibal loves his curiosity. He thinks of all the fine things he wants to expose Will to and watch him experience. Hannibal holds out a spoonful of the yellow gelato and feeds it to Will. Their eyes meet only briefly as Will’s lips close around the spoon and suck it clean. Will grimaces and immediately cleanses his palate with a huge spoonful of his melting chocolate disaster.
“That tastes like fancy soap.” Will says with a sour look on his face and Hannibal smiles.
“It is an acquired taste. Perhaps you’ll come to like it.” He ventures and Will shakes his head, curls bouncing.
“I’ll stick with my chocolate.” He says and takes another large spoonful. As Hannibal watches his eyes close in delight and his inky lashes fan out across his flushed cheeks, he finds that he doesn’t mind if Will sticks to chocolate at all. He finds himself wishing he could simply maneuver the boy into his lap, but he looks to see the girl behind the counter pretending not to watch them, and doubts Will would appreciate such a bold gesture in public.
Hannibal settles for teasing his ankle with the toe of his shoe.
“Are you playing footsies with me, Hannibal?” Will asks, amused and incredulous.
“I am red-blooded man, Will.” Hannibal reminds him. “I want what all men want.”
“To play footsies?” Will asks, placing both of his own feet on top of Hannibal’s larger one, trapping it between them.
“But of course.” Hannibal replies and hears something shatter behind the counter. Hannibal isn’t sure what the woman had dropped, but it serves her right for snooping. He sees her embarrassed reflection in one of the gelato case’s many mirrors as she sweeps up glass.
They finish in a comfortable silence, Hannibal savoring his small helping of gelato and Will curled against him, sated and pleased as most of his remains in his cup, steadily melting. Hannibal can tell by the change in Will’s breathing that he is on the verge of falling asleep.
“I think its time I get you home.” Hannibal says and Will shakes his head. “You are nearly asleep, Will.”
“Am not.” Will says, clinging more tightly to him.
“How about we compromise?” Hannibal asks and Will does not move from where he is curled up against his chest. “I take you home now, and in return I cook dinner for you on Friday.”
“Isn’t that tomorrow?” Will asks.
“Yes.” Hannibal replies. “I would suggest Saturday for propriety’s sake, but I have a charity event at the art museum that night, and am hardly willing to wait an entire week to see you again.”
The tiny ‘awww’ which comes from the back of the restaurant, where the woman is sweeping absolutely nothing and pretending not to eavesdrop, escapes Will entirely. Hannibal pretends he doesn’t hear it either.
“You want to cook me dinner?” Will asks and Hannibal nods.
“Very much so. Will you allow me to?”
“Ok.” Will replies in a small voice.
“Thank you, Will.” Says Hannibal, voice low and warm, and Will feels himself melt a little bit. He finds pleasing Hannibal dangerously addictive and ludicrously thinks he would probably eat a human foot if this man cooked it for him. “Let’s get you home.”
Will reluctantly disentangles himself from Hannibal and allows himself to be led out of the restaurant by the hand. He smiles and smiles as Hannibal holds open both the restaurant door and the car door for him. He gives Hannibal his address as he buckles himself in.
He slides into Hannibal’s car, barely fighting the urge to doze against the soft leather as he is driven home. The classical music Hannibal plays sinks him deeper and deeper into relaxation. Hannibal takes the opportunity to study him, wholly relaxed and open and without worry. He looks impossibly boyish, incredibly young, and heartbreakingly innocent. His pale skin glows in the dark, illuminated in strips by the streetlights, his dark curls soft and gleaming.
Hannibal had decided he would be his from the very first picture he saw of him, and that desire has only been reinforced by their evening. He feels honored that the boy is already comfortable enough with him to sleep in his presence, and fights the urge to reach out and touch him and disturb his rest.
He pulls up outside Will’s apartment building, and thinks of pretending to be lost to keep Will there a moment longer, but does not want to do anything to disturb the boy. At least not yet. It is important to establish himself as a port in the storm before he capsizes his vessel, after all.
“Will,” Hannibal begins softly and the boy turns toward him, only half opening his brilliant blue eyes.
“Hannibal?” He asks in a small voice and Hannibal can no longer resist. He reaches out to touch his curls. Will carelessly leans into his hand, seeking his touch.
“We are outside your building.” Hannibal says and Will looks just as disappointed as Hannibal feels.
“Oh.” Will responds and watches as Hannibal gets out of the car and comes to open his car door for him. Will falls into his arms easily, reveling in the feel of a solid body wrapped around him, holding him close. He breathes Hannibal in deeply and sighs, pressed contentedly against his chest. He doesn't know what he smells like, but he knows it's expensive. Will moves back enough to to be able to tilt his head up.
“Thank you for everything.” He says so softly, and so genuinely that it breaks Hannibal’s heart a little bit. “For picking me up. And wrapping my hands. And the gelato.” He says, a little stilted and awkward and unsure. When Hannibal places a hand on his chin, tilting his head back, he parts his lips and bares his throat, presenting himself for a kiss to be taken.
Hannibal falls upon him with softness and delicacy, touching their lips together with a slow sensuality, a hand going into his hair to angle him exactly how he wants him.
Will melts under the gentle, but decisive treatment, clinging to Hannibal and shaking as his lips are pried apart and Hannibal delves into his mouth to taste.
Hannibal avariciously swallows Will’s tiny and surprised noises of pleasure as the boy opens beneath him, pressed between his body and the door of his car. Hannibal gently takes Will’s bottom lip between his teeth and uses it to pull him closer. Will keens, high pitched as he digs his fingers into Hannibal's arms.
They break apart for breath and Will sounds as if he’s run a marathon. Hannibal takes in his kiss bitten lips and disheveled hair with eyes so dark and deep with want that Will can hardly resist but silently demand another kiss. He bares himself and this time Hannibal takes to his neck, kissing and licking softly.
“Hannibal.” Will exhales on a soft breath and Hannibal parts from him.
“I will pick you up tomorrow at eight.” Hannibal says, his voice rough with desire. Will nods.
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“Alright, so you’ve managed to avoid me this long, but that shit won’t play anymore Graham. Spill.”
Will looks between the bowl in Beverly’s left hand and the lighter in her right hand and sags into the corner that she’s trapped him into. He has managed to avoid her almost all day. He knows her friday schedule, and has stuck almost to the exact opposite end of campus. It still feels too personal, too magical, too unreal, and he doesn’t want to spoil it be inviting an intruder to experience whatever it is that he has managed to find.
“I’d love to talk about it,” He begins and it sounds so blatantly false and pained that Beverly lets out an offended little huff. “But it’s almost eight and Hannibal is gonna be picking me up soon so--”
“Did you touch his dick?” She asks and Will crosses and uncrosses his arms and closes and opens his mouth.
“No.” He finally says, and he sounds a lot sadder than he meant to. Beverly laughs openly and he frowns.
“You gonna touch it tonight?”
“He’s cooking me dinner at his house so…”
“You are so gonna touch his dick!”
“I um, if he wants…” Will trails off as his phone begins to vibrate. He looks down and sees the text light up his phone. It’s from Hannibal.
“He’s here.” Will’s smile is so beautiful, so genuine, and so wholly lights up his face that Beverly falls quiet, a sudden understanding breaking her tendency toward crude jibes.
“This is the real thing, isn’t it?” She asks and Will shrugs, though they both know that it in fact is.
“It’s...you know….no?” Will says, and falls so wholly flat that Beverly barks out a laugh.
“You’re a liar, Graham. A dirty, twinky liar.”
“I, uh, have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.” The jovial mood is broken. Beverly returns to the couch with her lighter and bowl. Will goes to take one last look at himself in the hall mirror. His hair is a mess, his old button up fits just barely, and there’s a hole in the thigh of his khakis. Will frowns.
“Give daddy a kiss for me, Graham.” Beverly says and will watches as she tries and fails to light the bowl in her hands. He leaves without a word. His stomach tying into horrible knots, his body almost visibly vibrating with anxiety as he makes his way out of his building and to the front door.
Will is surprised to find Hannibal waiting for him at the doors, tall and lean and dressed in red (later he will learn the color is called oxblood) and black. His hair falls free and Will finds his anxiety fleeing in the face of how truly mesmerized he is. He takes his time in watching Hannibal in his natural state, unaware that he is being watched, and savors this stolen moment, soaking in Hannibal as he does something on his phone.
Will watches, rapt, as Hannibal realizes he’s being watched, his casual stance slipping to suspicious and transforming instantaneously into unbridled delight upon realizing it’s Will who’s watching him.
His face transforms barely, but his eyes burn in the evening light. Will swallows as he walks toward him, exiting the building and coming to stand beside him.
“Good evening, Will.” Hannibal says and rather than answer Will tilts his head back and parts his lips, presenting himself to be kissed before he has even realized it. Before the panic can set in, Hannibal cradles his cheek in a large hand. WIll leans against it, natural and spoiled as a house cat. They regard each other for only a moment before Hannibal leans down to kiss his lips.
It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s maddening, Will feels it like a jolt of molten heat from his lips to his toes. As Hannibal pulls away Will fights the urge to pull him closer again and have the man take him on the stoop of his apartment building.
“I missed you.” Will blurts before he can stop himself and immediately looks terrified. Hannibal takes his hand, kissing the back and each of his fingers. Will preens under the attention.
“Come, dinner is waiting.” Hannibal says and leads him to the passenger side of his car. Will feels strange as Hannibal continues to wait on him, opening and closing the door for him and taking his time pressing kisses to his wrist. Will tingles at feel debates reaching for Hannibal’s hand as he starts the car and pulls away. He can’t help but feel relieved as Hannibal makes the decision for him, taking one of his hands in his. Will laces their fingers together and feels warmth flood him. He barely registers the soft classical music drifting from Hannibal’s radio.
“What did you cook?” Will asks and Hannibal squeezes his hand.
“You’ll see.” Hannibal replies, and Will can’t help but appreciate the mischievous glint in his eyes.
They sit in a comfortable silence, appreciating each other’s company as Will watches the grime of the city give way to the highway and turn to mansions upon mansions. Will swallows nervously. He’s not stupid, and it was obvious from day one that Hannibal was dripping in money, but as they pull into the driveway of a house larger than some of the buildings on his college campus, Will barely manages not to gasp. He can’t believe the man beside him, so refined and exuding power and skill, is going to be serving him a meal in his veritable palace.
“Are you alright, Will?” Asks Hannibal as he unbuckles himself. Will knows the drill by now, he unbuckles himself, but does not move to open his own door. “You’re very quiet.”
Will nods. “I’m just a little bit nervous.”
Hannibal smiles, faint and kind, and gets out of the car only to open Will’s door for him and take him into his arms. Will breathes a sigh of relief against him.
“You’re safe with me, Will.” He says and Will feels something ease and settle within him that he hadn’t known had been out of place. Any anxiety he had not realized he had been carrying melts away. He wants to believe that this is true and nearly every part of him does.
They might have stood in Hannibal’s driveway, beneath the looming facade of his mansion, holding each other for eons if not for the loud protest of Will’s stomach.
Will tries to duck his head and hide his embarrassment. Hannibal takes his hand and leads him into his house.
Once through the threshold Will takes in Hannibal’s decor with a keen eye. The bones, the feathers, the macabre art, the imposing regal colors, and it all sets uneasily with him. It feels like a showroom or a mausoleum, like the man himself barely even lives there. He feels something begin to uneasily creep within him, emotions he cannot define, only to be abruptly derailed by the delicious scents wafting throughout the house, pouring from the kitchen.
He comes to a dead stop, their familiarity hitting him like a freight train.
Hannibal watches as realization dawns on the boy, and he is able to manage the sheer satisfaction in his grin to a manageable little smile.
“Hannibal?” Will asks, nose wrinkling adorably as he picks apart the familiar spices of genuine southern cooking.
“Come.” Hannibal holds out a hand and will takes it, almost blind to the house’s eerie decorations as he feels his mouth start to water.
The brightly lit kitchen almost burns in comparison to the dark hallway and foyer, and Will blinks blindly as he adjusts, still breathing in the scents and spices. He sees pots boiling on the stove, the oven on, all sorts of gleaming appliances he cannot even begin to properly name.
“Did you make me some down home southern cookin’, cher?” Will tries, blatantly putting it on, and watches as Hannibal stops what he’s doing, right in the middle of choosing plates, a momentary glitch. Will mentally notes to blatantly put it on more often.
“Yes, I did.” Hannibal says.
“Smells like gumbo?”
“And hopefully it tastes like it too.” Hannibal replies with a little smile Will can’t help but return.
“I’m sure everything is delicious.” Will says, his stomach veritably quivering with hunger.
“You will have to be judge of that, Will.”
Will feels the urge, hot and bright, to kiss this man again, but they are standing several feet away, and he would feel awkward about maneuvering himself just for that. He knows that Hannibal most likely wants to kiss him too, even he cannot deny the actual ten car pile up of evidence, but he bites his lip instead and looks at the floor.
“If you’d like, you can wait in the dining room. The food is about finished.”
“Do you want any help carrying anything out?”
“No, let me take care of you.”
“Ok.” Will says quietly, momentarily taken aback by this man, and his desire to provide for him. Will has never found that before in another person. He’s always mostly scraped by due to luck and doggedness. “Thank you.”
“It’s through that door, there.” Hannibal directs him with a hand and Will nods, stepping out of the bright kitchen and back into the lowly lit dining room. It takes his eyes a second to adjust, and what he sees nearly saps all of the warmth he had been feeling away.
At the end of a long, dark, and imposing wooden table are two places set with fine cutlery, cloth napkins, and wine glasses. Will wonders if Hannibal is going to let him drink too. He is only 19, after all. He agonizes over where to sit, wondering if Hannibal has some sort of preferred spot, though he can spot no difference between the seats and the places denoting anything of the kind. He circles them several times before uncomfortably settling in the one facing the door he’d just come through, and sits on his hands to stop himself from picking at the table settings and smudging the cutlery.
A small centerpiece, reddish-black flowers, in a slender glass vase, sit between them. Will nearly forgets to breathe as Hannibal enters the room, stately and poised, carrying two plates on his arm, looking as natural as a career fine dining waiter. Will looks at the plates, beautifully garnished and proportioned, each plate sporting a pair of something he immediately recognizes as stuffed peppers. He watches as Hannibal sets down his own plate first, and then walks around the table to set another in front of him.
“It is my own interpretation of shrimp and crab stuffed mirlitons.” He adds and Will had never actually eaten the dish himself before, but is not about to tell Hannibal that. With him so close, he thinks of perhaps taking his kiss, but again feels too shy to do so.
“It looks delicious.” Will says and Hannibal’s genuine smile makes him feel weak. Will feels the loss of his physical presence keenly as the older man seats himself across from him.
“I have not chosen to remain authentic as far as wine, I hope you do not mind.” Hannibal says and before Will can respond he has a bottle of white wine in his hand. Will has absolutely no idea where it came from. “It is French, however.”
Will holds out a glass carefully, worried he might break it, and watches as Hannibal pours a small amount of faintly golden liquid into his glass. Will is about to comment that he can handle his liquor and can take a little more, when he watches Hannibal pour himself an equally small amount. He supposes it’s just a fancy thing and waits for the older man to pick up his own knife and fork before taking up his own.
Will is at first unsure of how he wants to cut into the stuffed mirlitons, but their temptation proves too great and his first attempt at gently slicing a piece nearly decimates one of the delicately presented morsels.
“Food is meant to be enjoyed, Will.” Hannibal says and Will feels his mounting anxiety subside entirely. He takes up the first bite, what he knows from a childhood spent hopping from fishing town to fishing town is lobster, that has been perfectly prepared.
Will can’t help but moan around the bite, and the dark flash in Hannibal’s eyes makes him shiver.
“This is amazing.” Will praises and can’t help but feel a little warm at Hannibal’s obvious pride at the compliment he knows that he deserves. “How did you make this?”
“Do you have an interest in cooking, Will?”
“I can cook fish and some vegetables alright. I guess you’d call it rustic if you wanted to be nice, nothing like this.”
“I bet you cook beautifully.” Hannibal says and Will feels embarrassment and delight mix within him. He hopes he’s not blushing.
“I bet you’d think I’d do anything beautifully." Will responds, just a little tease, and Hannibal nods, shameless and sincere. Will doesn’t know what to say. He reaches back down to his plate for more food, only to find it all gone. He looks over to see Hannibal taking his last bite and wonders what wondrous dish the older man will serve next.
“Are you ready for the next course, Will?”
Will nods and watches as Hannibal rises and comes forward to take his plate. This time Will positions himself in the most sensuous way he can manage, baring his throat, parting his lips, and watching Hannibal through his lashes, hoping that this time Hannibal will take the hint and give him a kiss.
Will is rewarded with a large hand in his hair, angling his head in just the right way. Hannibal looks down at him, the flush in his cheeks, the inky fan of his lashes, and sighs.
“My, my.” He says. He runs a finger across Will’s lower lip and feels the boy shiver in response. Hannibal feels a low noise begin in his gut and quashes it. “What do you want, Will?”
Hannibal savors his panic, absently strokes his face with a long finger as he holds him there and the boy leans into him entirely, reveling in being cradled. He is so touch starved, and Hannibal can’t help but drink in his desperation.
“I-um…” He tries and Hannibal can no longer wait he bends to taste him, capturing his lips. He places the dirty plate in his hand on the table and looms over Will, delighting in his explosive reactions to a simple kiss. Hannibal observes his hands, gripping onto his thighs, bunching the thin fabric of his cheap pants,holding on for dear life and breaks away.
“You can touch me, Will.” He says and marvels. It’s as if these words flip a switch, and the boy all but launches himself at him. Hannibal gathers him into his arms, a hand on his ass and the other in his hair. He feels the younger man’s hardness trapped in his pants as those coltish legs wrap around him like a snare.
As Hannibal takes his fill, slow and powerful as explores the younger man’s body on top of his clothes. Will clutches him like a lifeline, unfolding carelessly as Hannibal pulls his head back and nips at his throat.
Will groans and finds himself suddenly seated on something, legs spread as Hannibal palms him through his pants only to sink lower, fingers lightly leasing at his hole through the fabric of his clothing. Will gasps, feeling his hole flutter as he is played with. He pulls Hannibal to him, nearly managing to get him to cover him entirely and feel the full brunt of his delicious weight when something crashes and shatters.
This returns Will to earth, his blush enchanting with embarrassment upon coming to the realization that he’s been spread across the dinner table, after barely making it through the appetizer, panting and aching with Hannibal pressed above him.
He had knocked over a wine glass and its contents slides across the gleaming wood. A splatter decorates his jaw like a jewel. Hannibal leans forward and licks it off and Will gasps.
“Come to bed with me.” Hannibal whispers into his ear, hands roving freely, taking their fill as Will gasps, head thrown back, and the first two buttons of his shirt popped open. Hannibal leans back to appreciate him, flushed and desperate, laying in the rubble of his ornate table with his cock hard and prominent in his pants.
“What about dinner?” Will asks, small and obviously not incredibly concerned. Hannibal holds out a hand for him and Will accepts, feeling his body burn as Hannibal presses soft kisses to his palm and wrist.
“It will keep.” Says Hannibal as he pulls him to his feet and wraps around him, taking his lips in another kiss. Will melts into his embrace, aroused and delighted and wholly lost.
“Come.” Hannibal says and Will follows, led by the hand out of the dining room.
Will blindly follows Hannibal through his house, desperate and terrified and ecstatic as the man radiates heat and power before him, steadily leading him forward. It feels like an instant and an eternity have passed when they finally cross the threshold of his bedroom, and Will is suddenly overcome with the urge to flee.
“Hannib--” He does not even get to finish his sentence before the man is upon him, tasting and taking. Will almost yelps into a kiss as Hannibal lifts him, wrapping his legs around him as Hannibal cups his ass and tugs on his lower lip with his teeth, forcing him even closer. Will unfolds beneath his hands and mouth, unconsciously grinding against him.
“Oh, Will…” Hannibal breathes as the shy boy quakes in his arms, eager and flushed. “Have you ever done this before?”
Will stills in his arms and shakes his head. His curls bounce and Hannibal wraps a finger around one of them. “But I want to...with you…” Will says, softly and obviously embarrassed, he speaks so earnestly that Hannibal can’t help but kiss him again. Hannibal sets him gently on the edge of the bed and looms over him, pressing sharp kisses against his skin as he undoes his shirt button by button. Will kicks off his own shoes and wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist, using them to pull the larger man’s full weight on top of him.
Hannibal lands gracelessly, caught in a kiss, fingers unbuttoning Will’s pants beneath him and slowly beginning to slide them down his legs, leaving him only in small blue shorts, tenting beautifully, and a small dark stain from Will’s leaking cock at the front.
When Hannibal goes lower, a little tease, and takes the very tip of Will’s cock into his mouth through his tiny shorts Will whines high and long, a breathy little wail that only makes Hannibal do it again. And again.
“Hannibal!” Will calls, sounding genuinely distressed, and when Hannibal lifts off of the younger man’s prick he is surprised to find himself somehow lying beneath him. Will sits astride his hip bones, flushed and panting as he realizes the girth of just what he’s sitting on.
Will grinds down experimentally and Hannibal’s growl vibrates in his bones.
“Do you like that?” Will asks, breathless and unaware of his innate coquettishness as he grinds down yet again, hair falling into his eyes as he genuinely seeks approval.
“Yes.” Hannibal answers and Will’s smile is brilliant as he grinds down yet again, bracing his hands on the sides of the older man’s head as he leans down to hump against him.
“It’s not fair.” Will says mid slide, as Hannibal’s hands drag across his skin and settle on his ass, thumbs teasing beneath the material as he gropes Will’s ass, spreading his cheeks and allowing them to fall back into place.
“What’s not fair?” Hannibal asks and Will only tugs pointedly at his suit jacket, hands sliding between the material of his waist coat and jacket with a frustrated sigh.
After a farewell squeeze to his ass, which Will leans into like a spoiled kitten, Hannibal sits up as Will gracelessly tears at his clothing piece by piece, his cufflinks, jacket, shirt, and shoes find the floor. He stops when the older man is stripped to the waist.
Will feels his eyes cross as he looks at the sturdy body of the man beneath him. He follows the thick thatch of hair across his chest to where it peters off down his torso and disappears into his pants.
“Can I?” Will asks, momentarily shy as he gestures vaguely with his hand toward Hannibal’s naked chest.
Hannibal can’t help but pull him down for a kiss.
“Touch me however you like.” He whispers into the boy’s eager mouth and watches as Will springs into action, tentatively running his hands down Hannibal’s chest, feeling the warm skin, hard muscle, and slight softness with elation and greed. His hands take stock of Hannibal’s wiry musculature, stopping at his biceps.
“It’s terrible of you to hide all this under those suits.” Will says, in obvious awe. Hannibal preens under his praise, feels his breath catch as the younger man presses a kiss between his collar bones and nuzzles against his furry chest with a small noise of delight.
“What would you have me wear, Will?” Hannibal asks and Will strokes his flesh absently with soft touches, appearing apparently to think very hard. Hannibal watches as those tentative hands clasp around his belt with purpose.
“Not these.” Will says with all seriousness, and Hannibal can’t help but laugh as Will undoes his belt, unbuttons his pants, and peels them away. He watches Will’s impish confidence transform into shock as his clever eyes zero in on his hard cock.
“Is that…” Will begins, obviously unsure of where to go or what to do. Hannibal takes the lead again, kissing him until he’s breathless and seated on his clothed cock, deliciously grinding.
“Allow me, Will.” Hannibal says and Will relents, allowing himself to be spread out on the bed beneath the older man. He arches against him, feeling hot and elated and lost in sensation as he’s kissed and bitten and tasted. He reaches out a tentative hand and palms Hannibal’s dick and the man’s growl nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.
“I want you, desperately.” Hannibal grinds out, lowly on the tail end of a growl and Will nods, accepting of anything and everything, nearly yelping as Hannibal lifts his hips and rips off his tiny blue shorts and leaves his coltish legs akimbo.
Hannibal leans over him, to the nightstand, to grab something, and Will playfully nips at the barely-there amount of flesh above his hips. Hannibal reaches down with a hand and lightly swats him away.
“Brat.” Hannibal chides and Will peers up at him with a face so mock-innocent that Hannibal can barely resist but to lean down and kiss him again. Will hardly notices the trajectory of his clever hands until he feels a sick finger inside him.
Will suddenly gasps and Hannibal watches the realization dawn beautifully in his wide blue eyes, startled and disbelieving.
“Have you done this before?” Hannibal asks, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into Will’s hip as he fingers him open. He marvels at Will’s tightness and heat and his cock throbs as he imagines being inside. The knowledge that he soon will be causes Hannibal to make a low noise as he twists his finger, impaling the boy.
“F-fingered myself?” Will asks, voice breaking as his hole flutters around Hannibal’s fingers. The older man knows the very second he finds his prostate, the boy wails and clenches around him. Hannibal imagines himself clenched within that tight heat and inserts another finger.
“N-not like this!” Will says, wild and confused, his pulse pounding visibly in his neck. He has fingered himself several times, but was never able to find the right angle to find his prostate, and had never exactly had anyone around to help.
“Ride my fingers. Come on, Will.” Hannibal suggest softly and watches as the realization slowly dawns on Will that he is not merely a passive participant, but can move. He can control the pace if he wishes, take more and less as it suits him and pursue his own pleasure just as much as he can take what he is given. Hannibal slides in a third slick finger as the boy gracelessly begins to meet his fingers, angling himself to reach that spot that makes him wail.
“And this is only a few fingers.” Hannibal says and Will looks at him through his lashes, cock hard and leaking against his stomach and lip between his teeth as he avariciously rides the fingers inside him. Hannibal thinks he has never seen a sight as beautiful as this waifish boy straining and panting, desperate to open up for him and take more and more.
“Are you gonna, with…” Will begins and Hannibal takes his prostate between two fingers and lightly rubs. Will curses. “It’s...I….is it too big?”
When Hannibal leans down and kisses him he arches into it, feeling suddenly adrift in space and painfully empty with the removal of the older man’s clever fingers. He then feels only the very tip of Hannibal’s cock press against his hole and he steels himself, only for it to be withdrawn.
Will frowns, confused and painfully empty even through a haze of pleasure.
Hannibal wonders if the boy knows just what he's said. “Relax for me.”
Hannibal quiets him only to press the very tip of his cock against him again and withdraw it just as Will falls back to accept his fate, feeling his hole gape in anticipation. Will is prepared the third time, and wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist, trapping him so just the very tip slides inside.
Will looks up at him, wide-eyed in shock, only finally recognizing the magnitude of what he has done. He looks up at Hannibal helplessly. His body shakes. Hannibal quiets him with gentle kisses and slowly feeds him his cock, sliding in halfway before Will pokes him in the chest.
“I’m supposed to be the tease here, darlin’.” He says thinly, southern roots poking through, and with such conviction that Hannibal decides that if he’s feeling sassy enough to start mouthing off it’s time enough for him to fuck better manners into him.
He seats himself in fully and Will gasps, his legs go weak and start to fall from where they wrap around Hannibal’s hips and the older man holds them up. Pulling out halfway only to slide back in and stab at Will’s prostate with a long, slow, powerful stroke.
Will nearly screams. He demands more and Hannibal obliges, pistoning his hips in and out with long slow strokes that leave Will clawing blindly at his back and shoulders. He repeats his name again and again, wailing for more and harder even has Hannibal retains his careful pace, wary of being too rough with him during his very first time.
“Harder, Daddy!” Will demands.
“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” Hannibal replies through gritted teeth, even as it takes all of his restraint not to slam into the boy’s willing body. He thinks he may further explore this side of Will at some point, but in the moment the tight heat quivering around his cock makes forming any sort of plan a lesser concern.
“Hurt me? If you don’t start fuckin’ me to death right now I’m walkin’ out of here!”
Hannibal looks down at the remarkable young man beneath him, kiss bitten and wild and writhing, eyes shining with desperation, and without warning unleashes a series of punishing strokes, fucking into the younger man with abandon. Will digs his nails into his shoulders and howls in approval, southern accent thick and voice broken as he’s fucked.
“I want you to come for me, Will.” Hannibal repeats three times before he has Will’s attention, he knows it’s registered when he peers up at him through the thickened clumps of his lashes with such naked affection that older man feels his breath catch. Hannibal reaches for his cock, and it only takes three perfectly timed strokes for the younger man’s body to convulse as he orgasms.
Hannibal watches in fascination, stilling as will clenches hard on his still hard cock, tight heat nearly pushing him over the edge. Will comes silently, his face twisted in pained elation and his mouth open wide as he comes, his spent cock twitching feebly in Hannibal’s fist as his hole flutters and clenches around Hannibal’s hard cock.
Will stares into the ether, panting and delighted and lax against the bed. He somewhat registers Hannibal finishing inside him, his hot seed filling him, and thinks that maybe he should have used a condom, but the thought flies from him as the older man pulls his soft cock free and it leaves him feeling wholly bereft. He reaches for Hannibal immediately and sighs at feeling the older man wrap around him.
He feels their sweaty skin cool and wriggles around, turning in his arms to face the older man and press a small kiss to his jaw. They kiss languidly and softly, wholly content and enraptured in each other.
“We should wash.” Hannibal says. Will thinks of his seed, sticky between his thighs and agrees, but his tired full body ache disagrees.
“Carry me there.” He mumbles into the older man’s chest, nuzzled close against his thatch of chest hair. “If you want me to take a bath so bad, carry me there.”
“Brat.” Hannibal admonishes, and Will was only partially serious and let’s out a tiny noise of surprise upon being scooped up into his arms.
“Be careful what you wish for.” Hannibal says and Will sticks out his tongue even as he wraps his arms around the older man’s neck and allows himself to be cradled and carried from the bedroom.