A Close Shave

"You really don't need to do this, you know," Will protests, sitting up.

"Don't be ridiculous, Will," Hannibal chastises, guiding him back against the barber's chair with a firm hand on his shoulder. "It's my pleasure."

He allows his hand to linger a bit longer on the younger man's arm, "Just sit back and ...relax."

Relax. Relax. Relax. Will rests his head back against the plush, leather seat, closes his eyes, and repeats the word in his mind, a steady mantra to calm his anxious nerves at being alone in Hannibal Lecter's house; in Hannibal Lecter's bedroom.

Although he's had dinner here many times in the past, sat in his study over countless therapy sessions, Will can't quite shake the sensation that he is crossing some kind of unspoken line by being here in these intimate surroundings, about to let the infamous Dr. Lecter shave him! The attraction he feels for the man is unparalleled by anything in his past experiences, overwhelming and consuming; it frightens him with its implications.

Being here, in Lecter's inner sanctum, he is acutely aware of every sound, every pulse of unforeseen, thrilling anticipation. He is conscious of the dark wood accents of the room, a perfect complement to Lecter's somber personality; the faint scent of sandalwood wafting across the air, mingling with the menthol of the shaving cream Hannibal now lathers across his face.

Hannibal has fantasized about this moment for so long; having Will laid back before him, neck exposed, and totally at his mercy. He gently wipes a smear of shaving cream away from Will's lower lip with the edge of his finger, feeling his groin tighten. Expertly, he draws the straight razor slowly down the leather strap attached to his hip. Will winces unintentionally at the faint whisk as the steel passes over the hard band.

"Ok, Will, we're going to begin," Hannibal's deep voice spills over Will's prone form. Hannibal tilts Will's head back steadily with a hand on his chin.

Will starts at the first touch of steel to his skin, willing himself to be still under what he is sure is Hannibal's careful and practiced touch. Hannibal continues down Will's cheeks, across the slope of his chin, under his nose, the quiet snick of the blade and the splash of the water sloshing against the sides of the ceramic basin as Hannibal rinses the razor between strokes.

Hannibal takes a shallow breath through his nose, fighting to control the yearning in his loins as he readies the blade to make the final passes along the irresistible plane of Will's neck. Hannibal leans over his body, bracing himself on one arm of the chair, leveling the razor against Will's skin, just below the sharp angle of his jaw. Will feels the soft brush of Hannibal's breath across his lips and his eyes fly open, searching. Hannibal's hand slips, startling at Will's piercing gaze as it meets his own, and nicks the skin above his pulse point.

Hannibal scrutinizes Will's neck, his eyes drawn to the wound like a magnet. He watches the bright red blood well to the surface of the cut until a single droplet gathers, clinging to the edge of the ragged skin before smoothly sliding down the flat plane of Will's throat to collect in the shallow hollow of his collarbone. He is transfixed, his breathing short and rapid, leaning close to the smooth column of Will's collar. He can see the hasty thrum of his carotid artery pulsing just below the surface of his skin, forcing the blood to more rapidly emerge. He sniffs just once, allows himself to catch the scent of Will's skin, woodsy and dark, mixed with the sharp, metallic undertones of fresh crimson. He is intoxicated by it; eyes sliding shut, the tip of his tongue darting out to sweep his lips in anticipation. He should have known that once would never be enough.

He lowers his upper body into Will's side, dipping his head closer to the wound, his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping him against his body. His chest brushes against Will's, their breaths mirrored, causing them to rise and fall together.

Will stills beneath him, at once frightened of Hannibal's intent and excited by the prospect of his touch. Will's eyelids flutter closed, his expression tense and expectant, his breathing shallow.

With great care, Hannibal presses his mouth to the cut, his tongue lapping tenderly at the wound. Unexpectedly, Will's lips part on a sigh; he feels...connected to Hannibal in this moment. Encouraged, Hannibal softly closes his lips over Will's neck, drawing the flesh into his mouth, sucking lightly. Will releases a choked sob, overcome by the primal need Hannibal awakens in him; he is surprised to feel his cock twitch with arousal under Hannibal's gentle suckling.

Hannibal releases his hold on Will, resting his forehead on the younger man's shoulder, gathering his senses. His breath is heavy and quick, shuddering under the realization that he has tasted Will in the most intimate fashion, more intimately than if he had penetrated his body in any other way. Will's blood coursing through his system is the most powerful aphrodisiac; he is overcome by the fact that Will has allowed him to take such erotic liberties with his person. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will's warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance.

Will's face is closed tight, his visage unreadable. Fear, anticipation, want, and uncertainty all warring beneath his furrowed brow, each fighting for purchase as his mind struggles frantically to process this encounter and assign emotion to it.

Hannibal waits, unbreathing, until Will's eyes open slowly, his expression relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Will reaches out a tentative hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, drawing his thumb across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. Will's eyes bleed slowly to a darker brown, desire darkening his irises. He pulls Hannibal closer, crushing the older man's lips to his own.

Hannibal leans into the kiss, letting Will control their fervid coupling. He thrusts his tongue eagerly between Will's lips, beginning a frenzied dance of passion. Will tastes his own blood on Hannibal's tongue and, beneath the coppery tannins, lust. Will lifts his face, opening his mouth more for Hannibal's exploration, encouraged by the small moans coming from his throat.

Will knees part so Hannibal can step closer, wrapping his arms around his back. They entwine their limbs, falling into each other with abandon. Hannibal wants to take him, to fuck him against the chair, the wall, the table. He needs to bury his length inside him, thrusting to meet the climax building deep with his loins. There is a dark need, something deep and profound building so high inside him that he is afraid of it. This is no longer something simple and sweet, no longer a frantic wanting that they can control; this is something more, something deeper and voracious, primal and intense.

Will is shivering beneath Hannibal's hands, his need a tremulous, budding thing throbbing inside his chest, begging for release, imploring to be let out, to be contained by Hannibal's hand. Would he ever find such sweet submission in any other embrace? His need is a tremulous drumbeat in his chest, begging, submitting. There is no other need but this, in the heat of this passion which he lays, quivering, at his lover's feet.

Hannibal doesn't want to stop now. After months of waiting, of repressing his desire behind thinly veiled abstractions, he is finally holding Will against his body, feeling the stirrings of Will's own yearning pressed hard against his belly. Hannibal's hands reach for the hem of Will's t-shirt, dragging it up to reveal rock-hard abs beneath the satin texture of his skin. He lowers his head to Will's flat stomach, breathing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, tasting him with his adventurous tongue. Will's moan of pleasure spurs his exploration further south until Hannibal is unbuttoning the snap of Will's jeans. Will's hands meet his on the waistband and for a moment, Hannibal thinks he is going to stop him, having thought better of this encounter, but Will only serves to help him, grasping the denim fabric and pushing it down his hips, taking his black boxer briefs along with it.

Will is panting above him, arching his back against the chair as Hannibal's head lowers to his lap. There is nothing more he wants in this moment, now, than to surrender to Hannibal's elaborate and needy demands. He would that he cage him, imprison him within the confines of his own desperate yearning!

Hannibal does not look up at Will's face, does not ask for permission; he knows now that Will wants this as much as he does. He drops to his knees before the beautiful object of his affection, smoothing his hands over naked thighs before lowering his head to take Will's thick cock in his mouth. Distantly, he hears Will's gasp above him, but he is lost in the feel of his manhood swelling inside the warm recesses of his mouth. He strokes his tongue over him, taking him deep into his throat, swallowing over his tip, throat clenching around Will's member. There is an urgency to Will's thrusts as he rises up to meet him, but Hannibal will not be hurried. He has waited patiently for his prey to come to him and now he will savor each moment of this sublime surrender.

Hannibal arches toward Will's body, bringing his hands up under Will's rear, raising his hips to his mouth. He spreads his legs wider, reaching below him, feeling for the tiny, puckered opening. Will's body tenses above him, unsure, perhaps a little frightened. Hannibal quiets his fears with his mouth, sucking him ferociously, distracting him from his searching fingers.

Hannibal pauses long enough to suck two fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva. He returns his lips to Will's pulsing manhood while his fingers massage over the delicate, tight hole far below the base of Will's balls. He wants to give him...an introduction, a taste of what it could feel like between them. He wants him to want it.

He slides the end of one long finger into Will's hole, just past the first knuckle, and that tiny push is all Will needs to tumble over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting his spurting cock into the back of Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal drinks him down, not pulling away until Will's sated member is limp and drained, sucking at the tip of him as he draws his mouth off of him. Will is shaking, his breath coming in ragged gulps as he writhes on the barber's chair. Hannibal strips Will's shirt off his body, tearing away his one last defense, baring him completely before his eyes.

His hands clutch at Hannibal's chest as he gathers him up in his arms and strides to the sleigh bed on the other side of the room, laying him out on the bed. Hannibal steps back, shedding his clothes, and climbs onto it next to him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Hannibal cradles him, tenderly enfolded in his arms as they lay together on top of the damask coverlet.

Hannibal strokes the tips of his fingers over Will's shoulder, pressing light kisses along his closed eyelids, trailing them down his face. When he can no longer bear the the small distance between them, he grips his chin gently, turning his face to him for a soul-searching kiss, dipping his tongue between Will's lips, feeling his own erection throb against Will's thigh.

Will's eyes open, searching Hannibal's face, his hand reaching down to grasp his stiff length. He wants to please him, this man who has shown him so much of himself. He strokes his hand over Hannibal's enormous length, marveling at the feel of him, like iron covered over in velvet. He plays with the smooth head, fantasizing about dipping the tip of his tongue into his slit, sucking out the pre-cum; he wonders what Hannibal tastes like. Hannibal closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Will's in concentration.

Will plays with his balls, tugging and massaging the sensitive orbs gently in his free hand. His other hand begins to stroke him in earnest, gripping firmly from root to tip. "Lube?" he asks.

Hannibal groans and rolls to the other side of the bed, retrieving a bottle and a string of black anal beads from the drawer of his nightstand and hands it to him. He watches in fascination as Will dribbles a generous amount the thick lubricant onto his shaft for him, spreading the smooth liquid along Hannibal's considerable length.

Will is absorbed with the view of his small hand running up and over Hannibal's large cock, but Hannibal is mesmerized watching Will's face as he moves, young, curious, eager. He thinks he could look at him like this every day, always with a sense of wonder. Would he be allowed to keep him?

Hannibal brings his hand down, clutching Will's wrist suddenly, stilling his movements. He slams his eyes shut, a breath hissing through his teeth. Will recognizes the pained expression on his face and releases his grip on Hannibal's pulsing shaft; he is close. He rolls onto his back, legs spreading for Hannibal's entrance, exposing himself willingly, pulling Hannibal on top of him.

Hannibal is momentarily overcome by Will's acquiescence, the open, eager expression on his face, his readiness for Hannibal's control. He reaches down to stroke his cheek tenderly, Will nuzzling against his palm.

He moves down Will's body, kissing a line of fire along his his sternum, over the ripples of his abdomen, around his once-again pulsing cock, and lower. He spreads him open, holding him in place with his palms as his tongue darts out to stroke his entrance. Will's abs tighten in response to the tender invasion and he tries to wiggle his hips closer, but Hannibal holds him firmly in place, delving his tongue deeper past his rim, into the buttery depths of his body.

Hannibal's shaft pulses in response to the exquisite clenching of Will's sheath around his tongue, deeply buried inside him. Only when Will's cock is straining against his abdomen, the tip extending toward his belly button, does Hannibal withdraw from him.

Hannibal searches the covers for the discarded bottle, drenching Will's furrowed opening, coating his fingers liberally and spreading another layer over himself, hand fisting over his glistening cock while Will watches, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.

Hannibal slides one finger gently into Will's body, pressing his own chest to his to feel his sharp intake of breath. Slowly, he begins to move, thrusting his finger, twisting it gradually on his withdrawal until he discerns that Will's breathing has begun to even out. He adds a second finger, stretching him, smiling at the shudder that runs through Will's body when he plunges both fingers deeply into his core. He slowly increases his pace, spreading his fingers apart inside him, expanding his walls, readying him to take Hannibal's girth. He gently adds a third finger, as Will marvels at the incredible feeling of fullness.

He covers the string of beads with lube, spreading it along the ridges and into the spaces between. Tossing the bottle over his shoulder, he feeds the first tiny bubble into Will's tight slit, watching in fascination as the rest soon disappear. Hannibal massages the skin around Will's opening with his fingertips, stroking his manhood with his other hand. When he feels Will about to come, he releases his cock and pulls the string of beads out. Will is gasping, so close to orgasm that he is unable to speak. His body is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal's cock. Will reaches for him, hands scabbling at his arms in frustration. Hannibal slides between Will's legs, angling himself into his warm, waiting cleft.

"This is going to hurt," Hannibal tells him softly. Will nods his understanding. Hannibal is massive both in length and width and this is Will's first time; they have done almost no prep work, but he can't hold himself back any longer; he is aching to claim Will as his own.

Will's erection is growing again, the slender line of his member twitching against Hannibal's stomach. When he feels Will begin to relax, he withdraws slowly and grasps his own shaft, positioning himself at Will's entrance. He rubs the head of his shaft over Will's entrance, teasingly, smearing his pre-cum across his

He positions himself on one elbow so he can watch Will's face as he conquers him. Will's eyes watch him, hooded with desire, greedy for Hannibal's domination, his passion playing across his face, hips arching slightly off the bed, his body begging to be filled.

With a last deep breath, Hannibal presses forward into Will's entryway, slipping just the head of his penis past the fortress of his body. He hears Will's sharp intake of breath, sees his eyes widen, feels him clench under the weight of so much pressure. he withdraws slowly, then plunges just the head in again, repeating this movement until he feels Will's body begin to accommodate his intrusion, holding himself back with deliberate effort.

Hannibal stills above him, waiting for him to adjust before thrusting deeper. A thin sheen of perspiration beads on Will's brow as Hannibal guides his cock deeper with his hand. Will flinches in his arms, tears pricking his eyes. Hannibal stops, lowering his lips to nip at Will's chin soothingly.

"It's ok," he whispers. "I'm ok."

Hannibal kisses him deeply and, with a powerful thrust, sheathes himself to the hilt inside Will's body. Will's back arches off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from his throat as tender membranes tear within. The pain is intense and immediate, a heavy searing agony in his lower back. He cannot stifle his cries of anguish, but Hannibal can't contain his need to move any longer. He withdraws all but the head of his shaft and thrusts again, beginning a slow rhythm, as gentle as he can.

Hannibal drops his eyes to their joined bodies, watching himself slide rhythmically in and out of Will's tightness, fascinated by the lines of blood streaking his shaft. Will bears up stoically under the pain, trembling beneath him. Hannibal stills his hips a moment, murmuring to his lover in low tones, encouraging him to relax his muscles. After a few more strokes, Will begins to relax, allowing Hannibal to continue and increase his pace.

Hannibal drops his head to Will's shoulder, setting up a punishing tempo, his chest heaving with the force of his hips driving into his lovers tight embrace. Soon, Will's breathing changes from labored to excited and he raises his hips, meeting Hannibal thrust for thrust. His nails dig into Hannibal's shoulders, scoring the skin of his back while his own cock hardens again between them as Hannibal brushes over his sweet spot with each plunge.

Hannibal reaches behind him, grasping one of Will's wrists, dragging it down to fist his own cock as he continues to plunge into his snug pocket of heat. He is close now, so close, and he want's Will's fulfillment with his own.

Will is panting his arousal, his palm flying over the slick surface of his rod as Hannibal plunges desperately into him, rocketing toward release. He feels his balls contract a moment before he perceives the hot spurt of Will's own release across his chest. Hannibal lets out a primitive snarl, taking the flesh of Will's shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted. He sucks the fresh taste of Will's life force into his mouth as he empties his cock into his ass.

When Hannibal has stilled enough to slip limply from the warm confines of Will's body, they are both glazed with a layer of sweat. Will's eyes are glassy when Hannibal reaches a hand to grasp his cheek tenderly, tenderly nudging his lips open in a profoundly soul-searching kiss. It feels as though he is asking him a million questions and sharing the answers to everything in the universe at the same time.