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Your inner thighs begged me for a kiss.
My lips made it rain.
-R.h Sin
Day 6: Thigh Riding
If there was anything in the world of which Hannibal Lecter was certain, it was that Will Graham was going to be the death of him. It wasn’t an exaggeration, but a certainty he’d come to terms with ages ago. He’d likely die with a smile on his face, but it didn’t change the fact that Will was the only person who could raise his blood pressure in a matter of seconds without a single ounce of effort.
They’d known one another for years; their contentious relationship was borne of Jack Crawford’s need to sleep without a nagging conscience. Things slowly evolved into true friendship; true understanding of one another as they faced the perils of working for the FBI at one another’s side. It remained that way for months; would have likely continued in the same fashion if had not been for a single, fateful accident.
It was a trivial thing, really. Hannibal had a tendency to cling to cases in which he took an interest; one of his patients revealed himself to be more than what he seemed. Will had figured it out and came to his aid before he knew he needed it, but his arrival was a near thing - Hannibal nearly died in the altercation that followed. Will subdued the patient in question without breaking a sweat; a quick, well-aimed hit to the back of the neck knocked the other man out cold, but the amount of damage Hannibal had taken before his rescue had not been insignificant. He’d been forced to stay in the hospital for a few days while his insides resettled after a monumental loss of blood. Will remained by his side the entire time and when he’d been released, it had been into Will’s waiting arms.
In short, in the course of a single evening, Hannibal’s favorite person both saved his life and proved himself to be someone Hannibal couldn’t live without. Although they devoted themselves to one another moving forward, their physical relationship had taken some time to bloom.
Six months ago, on the night their physical association tipped from friendship to the inferno that now consumed them both, Hannibal had learned that all his presumptions of Will’s sexual pathology were woefully ignorant. He’d expected shy; submissive and sweet, a giver by nature that would need to be coaxed to chase his own pleasure.
What never occurred to him, even in his wildest imaginings beneath the sheets of his bed, hand around his cock as he envisioned the profiler on his knees, was that Will would be completely unencumbered by the inhibitions he thought would hold him in stasis; that he would be bold in taking what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Their first night together had been enlightening; it had only gotten better from there.
The staff in the restaurant in which they were currently dining might disagree; Will had showed up to dinner with a soft smirk and heavy lidded eyes, pupils already softly swollen before they were lead back to their table. The deep black suit he wore was cut to to fit him like a glove; the midnight blue of the shirt beneath was open at the throat, drawing Hannibal’s gaze to the tantalizing sliver of flesh at the base of his lover’s throat. An enticing scent eased its way into Hannibal’s senses when they’d greeted one another; something sharp and cool that commingled with Will’s natural scent to such perfection, even Hannibal’s acute olfactory senses could barely discern the two.
Whatever game Will was playing continued when they they were seated at their table. Instead of taking his customary seat across from him, the profiler had pulled his chair to sit as close to Hannibal as propriety would allow, their elbows brushing as they collected their menus from a bemused hostess. The delightful cologne he’d chosen to wear teased at Hannibal’s concentration, daring him to follow it to its source upon Will’s skin. It was a lucky thing that his meal choices were familiar to him; he already knew what he planned to order and could therefore focus on more important things.
Specifically Will’s sudden need for proximity.
“Is there a particular reason your side of the table suddenly holds no interest to you?” he inquired. Will ignored the question, perusing his own menu with more enthusiasm than was necessary to make his choices.
“Knowing my particular palate, would you suggest the duck or lamb?” Hannibal placed an elbow onto the table and leaned his chin into it, gazing at Will through his eyelashes as he pretended to examine each option.
“Are you feeling something on the more decadent side, or would you prefer something non-contentious?” he countered. Will chuckled and lifted Hannibal’s other hand, lifting it to his lips before guiding his fingers to the menu items.
“I know for a fact that you haven’t read through either option, and I’m asking your honest opinion,” he laughed. Hannibal drank down the sound; rich and headier than the wine in his glass, and let his eyes follow the line of their connected hands to the words on the menu. Will leaned in closer, brought their bodies together as the doctor tried to focus on the sentences printed into paper.
“I have the distinct feeling you’re attempting to do more than garner my judgment on what you should consume,” He remarked. Will’s smile widened, darkened to something sensuous and playful. He lifted Hannibal’s hand from the menu and raised it to his lips, breathing a long line of heat across his skin.
“Perhaps I’m hungry for other things that have nothing to do with filling my stomach,” the profiler replied, holding Hannibal’s bloodstained gaze with his own. “But because we do things properly, we are going to eat and enjoy our time at this table.”
His lips grazed Hannibal’s knuckles; warm and wet, he laved discreetly across his lover’s skin with the tip of his tongue. Hannibal’s pulse climbed into his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“If you keep this up, we aren’t going to be here long enough to place our order,” he warned. His voice cracked on the final words; Will chose the same moment to draw the tip of Hannibal’s finger into his mouth, tongue wrapping around the digit as if he were sucking his cock. He took it all the way down into his throat and swallowed; Hannibal prayed to every deity in existence that he made it through Will’s game without coming then and there.
Will finally released his finger, releasing it with an obscene pop.
“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured, handing Hannibal a napkin. “I know how to behave when I have to.”
Before he could reply, the waiter returned, his pen raised, and asked what they’d like for dinner. Will, bless his soul, ordered for them both.
***
By the time dinner concluded, Hannibal was lightheaded and near feral with lust. Throughout the meal, Will offered morsels from his plate, slicing bites small enough to taste without any true satiation. He fed Hannibal with his fork at first, but it was eventually abandoned in favor of delivering his proffered samplings with his fingers, brushing the digits across Hannibal’s lips when he took them. Dessert was delivered with downcast eyes; they’d dined there often enough that nobody batted an eye to Will’s antics. Hannibal only managed a few small bites; he was too turned on to consume his usual half of whatever had been ordered. As a result, he had to cross his legs and watch, helpless, as Will licked dark chocolate gelato from their shared spoon as if he was trying to make it beg.
They paid and left a handsome tip, made their way hand in hand into the cool night air. Will took the keys from Hannibal’s shaking hands and opened the passenger door, ushering the bemused doctor into a seat he only occupied when a migraine rode him down. They let the tension build throughout the ride home; Will played his fingers up and down Hannibal’s inner thigh, delighting in the jumping muscles beneath expensive fabric. Hannibal didn’t dare speak. He barely breathed as Will navigated the car onto their drive, kept his cool as Will circled the car to unlock his door. They made it all the way inside the door before he made his move.
Hannibal grabbed the front of Will’s shirt, taking the other man by surprise as he used their bodies to slam their front door closed with a resounding thud. Before Will could react, Hannibal sealed his lips with a heated kiss, plunging his tongue into Will’s mouth with every bit of heat that he’d managed to keep from burning him alive while they ate. Now, in the comfort of their home, he let it come to the surface; let it flare across his skin as he pushed Will’s jacket from his shoulders, tossing it aside with a faint flump.
“Have you any idea,” Hannibal breathed, yanking Will’s shirt from his pants, “the monumental amount of restraint I have had to exhibit tonight to keep from ravishing you on the dinner table?” Will smirked and bared his throat; Hannibal leaned towards the flesh he offered up and sank his teeth deep, sucking a bright bruise into the perfection of skin beneath his lips.
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out,” Will panted.
Frustrated, Hannibal parted Will’s lips with his tongue and pushed him back into the wood, pressing his thighs apart with his own, wedging his leg between Will’s knees. A delicious discovery awaited him. Will was hard; harder than he’d ever felt him, hot and perfect against the firm meat of his thigh. The doctor’s hands dropped to Will’s waist and pulled him forward, grinding him down. Will’s breath caught in an aborted gasp.
“Fuck,” he moaned, threading his fingers through Hannibal’s hair. “Do that again.”
Lost in the perfection of his lover’s gaze, Hannibal gripped Will’s hips and rocked them, pressing that delicious hardness into his slacks over and over. Will canted his hips, changing the angle to give him the most friction and began to roll his hips, riding Hannibal’s thigh as if he were taking his cock.
Hannibal couldn’t look away.
A hand wound around Will’s throat, the other remained on his hip, guiding him to fuck himself over Hannibal’s leg. The profiler keened, pupils blown so wide, only the thinnest ring of blue remained. His shirt hung open over a heaving chest; his hips picked up their pace in time with Hannibal’s urgings.
“That’s it,” Hannibal crooned, kissing along the blooming bruise at Will’s throat. “Take everything I offer to you, my darling. Let your pleasure break.”
Will tried to speak; the hand on his throat tightened, cutting off his words. Hannibal chucked darkly and pulled Will down harder.
“I think you’ve said enough, don’t you? We are beyond words for now. All that’s left for you to do is come for me just like this.”
Will groaned and gripped the front of Hannibal’s shirt, crashing their mouths together as he frantically rocked his hips, letting the pleasure fill him to brimming. Hannibal’s hands were perfect; pulling him as he rocked, squeezing hard enough on his windpipe to keep him on that delicious edge of delirium as he fucked down onto the doctor’s thigh. Hannibal could feel him growing hotter, impossibly harder, pulsing as he struggled for breath. All at once, he released his throat, letting him take a deep, delicious gasp of air.
“Gonna— oh Christ, Hannibal—”
“Come for me, Will. Let me see you come undone.”
Hannibal pulled back and watched, fascinated, as the profiler’s skin broke out in goosebumps. His hips stuttered, ground down, and just like that, he spilled into his pants with a cry, Hannibal’s broken name pouring forth as he rode out his orgasm on the only bit of friction offered. His nipples hardened, cheeks bloomed with color as wave after wave broke over him in an overwhelming tide of sensation. Long, honeyed minutes later, they collapsed back against the door, panting into one another’s mouths as they came down from their need. Hannibal let his eyes shutter closed and carded a hand through Will’s curls, comforting him back to calm. Perfect. You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen.
He didn’t say it out loud; Will would have been embarrassed. Instead, he breathed deeply and held the profiler to his chest, letting the sugared words permeate his own heart.
Will barely gave himself a minute before he pulled free and sank to his knees.
“You’ve only just finished, darling,” Hannibal protested, but Will shook his head and reached for his lover’s belt.
“It was plenty of time,” he murmured, throwing the belt across the room as he unbuttoned Hannibal’s slacks with the same fevered movements that had consumed him against the door. Hot breath wafted across the sensitive crown of Hannibal’s cock as the profiler’s fingers pulled him loose from his boxer briefs, his skin taut and shiny with precome. Hannibal’s head cracked against the door when Will leaned forward and attached his lips to glistening flesh, taking him into his throat in one go.
“Gods, Will—” Will released him long enough to grin and wind Hannibal’s shaking hands into his hair. He leaned forward a second time paused inches from his goal.
“Hannibal?” The doctor was so overtaken with need, he could barely bring himself to respond.
“Yes?” Will kissed the inside of his thighs, licked a long, wet line along his balls and up the length of his shaft. Hannibal’s legs shook; he felt lightheaded, dizzy with desire. The last words before Will took him rang in his ears, spiraling down into his very core.
“Watch me, love. Watch me until I make you come.”
Death of me, Hannibal thought helplessly, holding his gaze as Will sank back down onto his cock. You, darling, will always be my undoing.