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Blood Games

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Will choked back a deep, guttural moan.

Despite the effort to remain silent, enough of the moan escaped to catch Hannibal’s ear, and he turned to Will with a slight crinkle around his eyes.

“Do you want to help, or are you going to merely watch?” He returned to his task.

“Well,” Will said, his voice rough. “I’m certainly going to watch, but I wouldn’t say ‘merely watch’.”

“I begin to suspect that you have an agenda, my dear Will.” Hannibal angled his blade for a more precise cut. It was tricky because the man kept twisting his head as if that would somehow stop Hannibal. Hannibal just took him by the hair and slammed his head into the wall a few times, until he stopped. Then he made the cut, just so across his captive’s throat, careful not to nick the jugular.

The consequent gush of blood resulted in a heavy intake of breath, and a slow, shaky exhale behind him. His nostrils flared as he reveled in the sweet, coppery scent of the life draining slowly from the immobilized pedophile before him, ‘properly crucified’ upon the wall, as he had explained to Will earlier, while driving thick spikes between the radius and ulna, one wrist at a time, while tomorrow night’s dinner wailed and prayed.

This one had been of Will’s choosing: Ray Hartish, a fundamentalist Baptist, taken to preaching the Gospel in the street by day, and forcing himself on his six year old daughter by night.

The man’s deplorable deeds satisfied Will’s need for the kill to be a righteous one. Hannibal needed no such criteria to be met, but found himself enjoying the opportunity to indulge his precious Will.

Hannibal could feel Will step up close behind him, reach past his face and run several fingers through the slippery fluid on the man’s chest. He could not help tracking the bloody digits back into Will’s mouth, and gasped softly at the blissful expression on his face. Will stared intently into Hannibal’s dark eyes while he licked and sucked his wet fingers. A tiny line of blood ran down his chin. Hannibal turned more completely and grabbed Will by the back of his neck and pulled him close, kissed his red lips viciously and swallowed his groan. He lapped the tiny rivulet from his chin and felt Will’s slick hand run through his hair before Will let go and ducked out of Hannibal’s grasp, stepping back.

“More,” he said, eyes bright, licking his lips, panting slightly. “Cut him again.”

“As you wish.” Hannibal smirked and turned back to his prize. He raised his scalpel and sliced deeply down the man’s left bicep, ignoring his shout, reaching to pull the skin wide to reveal the flesh beneath. Then, while the meat was still shrieking he did the same to his right, following up with matching cuts down his forearms, always careful not to catch any major arteries.

The praying, however, was grinding on Hannibal’s last nerve, so he wrenched open the pig’s mouth and gave a good yank on his tongue, reaching all the way back with his scalpel to slice it out at the base. He placed the tongue gently into the cooler of ice off to the side for later. Now there was only wordless screaming, and that was entirely appropriate.

He took a step back to examine his work. Blood poured thickly down the man’s chest and dripped off his arms to the floor. It gurgled out of his mouth and ran in streams down his chin and throat. It was a lovely sight.

There was a ripping sound behind him and a button pinged off the wall in front of him. He heard fabric hit the floor, and allowed himself a small smile. Will’s Beast was clawing its way to the surface.

‘Always so impatient,’ thought Hannibal fondly. He felt Will grab the bottom of his no longer pristine shirt and slice straight up the back with what he knew was Will’s favorite blade. He let his arms drop, and his shirt fell to the floor. Will was panting heavily in his ear.

Hannibal knew he had little time left before Will’s Beast consumed him completely and the night’s monstrous activities turned carnal.

He adjusted his expert grip on his scalpel and swiftly sliced two deep ‘X’s’ across Hartish’s pectoral muscles, then stabbed the blade into his shoulder for safekeeping and finished just as Will’s belt buckle clinked onto the floor.

Will pressed himself against his back, and Hannibal allowed Will to push him into the mutilated preacher so his stomach and chest was smeared thickly with the man’s blood. Will’s hands came around and wiped across the wide cuts, snorting when the man shouted at the rough scraping and pulling. He gathered even more blood, and brought it to Hannibal’s chest, rubbing the viscous liquid up his neck and chin and over his shoulders. Will slid his slick hands across Hannibal’s pecs, stopping only to give his nipples a vicious pinch. Then he bit harshly into Hannibal’s trapezius, growling and shaking his head.

Hannibal moaned, dropping his head and letting himself sink into the animalistic pleasure of the moment as Will undid his belt and zipper and let his slacks fall. He reached for Hannibal’s boxers and tore them down each side, flinging the offending fabric away with a hiss.

'Hannibal let Will pull him around so they were facing one another. Will groaned deeply and bent his head to lick across Hannibal’s blood-smeared chest, stopping along the way to grab mouthfuls of flesh in his teeth and worry it like a wolf tearing apart prey, drawing Hannibal’s own blood and causing him to harden quickly. Will rubbed his face against Hannibal’s chest, laughing deep and ugly. Hannibal bared his teeth in his rising need.

Will raised his head, grinning madly, eyes flashing with heat. He crushed their mouths together and drove his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, biting at his lips and snarling. Pushing Hannibal back against Hartish with his own body, he thrust his rigid cock against Hannibal’s own hardness, not even trying to control himself in any way. He reached one bloody hand down and took them both in a rough, wet grasp, stroking violently.

Hannibal decided it was time to take control. He grabbed Will’s arms and turned, switching places with him, shoving Will hard into the still breathing body on the wall. Will groaned loudly, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s neck and pulling him close.

Hannibal bent briefly, grabbed Will’s legs and pulled them up to wrap around his waist. His already wet cock slid roughly into Will with very little guidance and Will ground himself down onto it with a howl. Hannibal fucked him hard, snarling and throwing his own head back in pleasure as Will scored his back with his nails over and over. Hannibal pounded into him as Will’s eyes rolled back and he started pulling jerkily at Hannibal’s shoulders, arms, whatever he could reach in his scrabble for more sensation. Will was so close, Hannibal could feel his hole clenching around his cock.

Hannibal leaned forward and latched onto Will’s neck with his teeth, growling loudly into his ear and reaching for the scalpel still buried in the man’s shoulder. He leaned back, studying Will intently as he bellowed, “COME!” and finally sliced his scalpel across Mr. Ray Hartish’s jugular vein. He watched Will’s face go slack for a bare instant, then contort with an animal exaltation as the blood cascaded over his head and ran down his face and chest. Will roared his pleasure, writhing, almost dancing against the slick flesh at his back, rolling his head in the shower of blood. Hannibal threw back his head and howled his release.

Then they stilled, holding each other tightly as their Beasts retreated.

The two of them leaned there, against the now very dead preacher, starting to come down. Will opened his eyes to stare lovingly into Hannibal’s, smirking playfully and leaning forward to lap blood off Hannibal’s nose with a laugh as his feet were set back onto the floor.

“So,” said Will, with a sly grin, “I’m pretty good at this ‘merely watching’ thing.”

“Oh,” Hannibal purred. “I wouldn’t say it was ‘merely.’ “