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“Have you heard of Corey Hart?”
Hannibal looks up from examining the bottle of rosé in his hands to stare at Patrick. “I'm not quite sure I have, continue.”
He loves to indulge Patrick in his musical rants, admiring his wide knowledge and focused look when he's speaking. Patrick always gives out his honest opinions and preferences, helping hannibal to learn even more about him.
Patrick picks up a jewel case of a CD that carries the face of a man with tanned skin and bright light hugging the side of his face. “His first album in 1983, ‘First offense’, really caught my eye. I never really listen to anything so synthetic, it took quite a bit of time for this album to grow on me.”
Hannibal busies himself with pouring two glasses of the blush coloured drinks, carefully listening to Patrick's words.
“His most popular single ‘sunglasses at night’ narrates a deep story about trying to hide yourself away from a dark truth, refusing to hear any of it.” He's now taking slow, lazy steps in a straight line, lost in thought.
“Wearing sunglasses at night obviously worsens your sight. It's about trying to deter your view away from anything that might be too much to take in. Trapping yourself tightly into your bubble,” He turns around to see hannibal, a few steps away from him holding two wine glasses of the pink liquor.
Patrick holds up his empty hand to accept his drink, muttering a soft thank you that's almost mute.
Patrick doesn't continue with his speech. Instead he takes long seconds to drink in hannibal's form.
“Hannibal, can you take off your jacket?”
Hannibal doesn't get startled at the request. In fact, he's almost happy for it. He does not waste time and unbuttons his suit jacket with one hand, setting down his own glass and pulling the clothing off his shoulders to fold it and set it down on the couch.
Patrick then continues with his speech, “His second album was the one I had a hard time trying to enjoy,” He takes a quick sip of his glass, “‘Boy in the Box’, 1985. His most recognized album. it felt a bit too boyish for me, Like he was trying to cater to a teenage audience.” Hannibal copies him by also taking a small drink of his glass, while taking in Patrick's firm opinions about his interests.
Patrick takes another sip, “but, I will say that one of the album's single, ‘everything in my heart’ is quite the remarkable song.”
Hannibal slightly tilts his head, a small gesture to show his curiosity.
“It talks about absolute dedication to love, giving your whole heart and your whole soul even through difficult times and separation, still offering up your entire being to your significant other.” Patrick whispers, his tone velvety and filled with desire.
Hannibal catches the suggestion easily with a small smile in his face, proceeding with finishing his drink and turns to walk into Patrick's open bedroom.
“Is ‘First offense’ your favourite album by him?” Hannibal questions, sliding off his vest.
Patrick chuckles lowly and finishes his wine, “it's an incredible album, but it doesn't really take the spot.”
“Tell me, what does take the rightful place as your favourite?” Hannibal is sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding his leather shoes off.
Patrick walks over to his shelf again, picking up a different case. “‘Fields of Fire’, 1986. Went double-platinum in the same year on December, just 3 months after its release.” He pushes a button on his off-white coloured CD player.
“Corey released this in 1987, ‘Take My Heart’. It really stood out to me with it's slow, yet intense instrumental. You can feel the emotion through the voice of his lyricism, about being so devoted for your lover, giving out your true self to them, and to them only.”
Patrick places his empty glass on the low table and walks into the bedroom, already slipping open the buttons of his dress shirt, “it displays the desperation of true love, of desiring someone that can accept you for who you are. Wanting them to stay by your side at all times, keeping them all to yourself.”
Patrick now stands between Hannibal's knees, looking down on him with a genuine smirk on his face.
Hannibal finishes the last gulp of his wine and slowly looks up at Patrick, “is that the song by him that you enjoy the most?”
“Oh, I adore it.”
*
“Patrick…”
Patrick is too busy trying to chase his own pleasure, two hands splayed on both sides of Hannibal's head filling the silence of the room with breathy groans.
“Patrick,” Hannibal calls for him again.
“Huh?” Patrick tries not to make his voice show how absolutely ruined he is at this moment, a light layer of sweat covers his face and chest.
“You haven't told me,” Hannibal almost sounds just as wrecked as Patrick. “about the other singles of the album.”
Patrick doesn't stop moving, but his eyes narrow at the request, his mind still drowsy from the current euphoric situation as it takes a few seconds to register what hannibal is saying.
He finally understands and then almost barks out a laugh, being surprised by the sudden interest of the long-forgotten topic.
Patrick let's out a deep sigh and tries to focus on his next words, “‘Angry Young Man’, 1986. Talks about how today's youth struggle in society, being forced to fit in,” he hits a certain spot inside of him and breathes out a small mewl.
“Hah- how so many people had their dreams wiped away at such a young age, being compelled to adjust themselves to the societal norms…” Patrick inhales deeply, seeming like he will continue, until he cries out another pained groan after abusing his own hole.
Hannibal stares at him like he's awaiting Patrick's next words. “Are there any other singles from the album?”
Patrick grimaces, displaying his irritated mood at Hannibal's constant interrogation. “oh, shut up.”
Patrick leans down to press his lips onto Hannibal's and quickens the movement of his hips, Hannibal slides his hand up to place it on Patrick's nape to try and deepen the kiss.
They make their hips meet in every thrust, riding up to keep their rhythm. Patrick's hands start to wander ecstatically as he feels his release building up low in his belly, as if he's trying to dig himself deeper into Hannibal.
Hannibal already feels his own finish coming close, so he reaches his hand down in-between their bodies to grip Patrick's length and stroke him at a generous pace, determined to have them both relieved at the same time.
Patrick gasps into Hannibal's open mouth when he feels the firm stroke on him, effected by Hannibal's skilled hands. He's been always obsessed with Hannibal's surgical hands, and how it works carefully to satisfy him well.
That thought is put into a stop when Patrick cries out with a groan as ropes of his ejaculation stains Hannibal's stomach and Patrick's body collapses on top of Hannibal's.
Hannibal soon after gets off inside of Patrick with a deep moan, breathing heavily. They lay down like this for a few minutes, until Patrick recovers from his exhaustion and holds himself up on his elbows and throws his body onto his back.
Patrick feels hard cold plastic peirce into his rear, then sloppily reaches for the violating bottle of lube from behind and carelessly throws it on the bedside table.
Hannibal takes a moment to gaze at the sight, Patrick's hair flowing on his sweaty forehead, his arm thrown over his own eyes, the rise and fall of his chest growing steadier, and his own cum staining his defined abs.
Hannibal turns to lay on his side, facing Patrick and places a soothing hand onto his chest. A gentle finger drawing small circles onto the muscle as he keeps his eyes on Patrick's chiseled face.
“Patrick?”
“Hm?”
“Would you care to tell me more about the songs of this favourite album of yours now?”
Patrick rubs a hand over his eyes with a deep sigh, “geez, man.”