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Hannibal is no stranger to the often long times of cooking and baking. He knows that sometimes lesser people will pride themselves in making regular dishes in record time, that online recipes advertising 10-minute meals and quick desserts get millions of clicks and views. It’s just part of this new modern way of life that prioritizes low time and quick production instead of quality and craft. It's something he has never been fond of. Flavors need time, technique, and attention to develop; they are built delicately and consciously.
This time, however, everything is taking longer than he would have wanted.
When Will and him first arrived in Cuba there were weeks, even months, of slow, painful healing. Hannibal had made an effort to bring them a sense of normalcy; to keep up the farce Will had sought out during the older man's incarceration, a good home and a happy wife. It was hard, trying to replicate a version of the universe that Will had left behind in Maine that was still similar in shape, but different enough in the right places to be better.
Hannibal had taken the reins in the kitchen and the cleaning, waking up early and going to bed late, tending to everything that Will might need or want, until it blew up on his face the moment both of them were healed enough to get cabin fever and actually do something about it.
Will made it clear he wanted to be a part of the house chores and so, after a week of unsuccessfully trying to get into the kitchen, he had decided that this Sunday morning their latest kill would become a painfully slow cooked marinated brisket.
The Cuban heat shines upon them out in their secluded yard, effectively slow cooking them both. Hannibal had mixed himself a St-Germain hours ago that he has been patiently sipping, while Will has been nursing beer after beer while he mans the grill. He started the marinade yesterday right after they had dismembered the short stout man that had shouted insults at them a few days back while walking home at night. Hannibal had cleaned and packed all the cuts in the freezer while Will started a wet rub filled with Cajun spices and old family secrets.
Early morning has long passed. Will has walked around the grill all day, adjusting things Hannibal has no idea about and can't be bothered to care. He has checked the thermometer and hummed like it means something, though Hannibal is starting to believe that maybe it's broken, because after hours the ribs still aren't done.
He isn't even hungry anymore, at least not for food.
Sweat keeps dripping throughout Will’s toned and naked back. In what world that man had thought it was a good idea to expose himself like that while cooking with fire Hannibal can't fandom. It had become a pastime of Will’s to lounge around half naked around the house. Summer was hot in Cuba and though the breeze that went through the house’s open windows certainly helped, it was never enough.
The grill made everything hotter, Hannibal was sure hadn't seen Will sweat this much since he had his encephalitis fulled nightmares back in the States. It makes everything better and worse at the same time. The pearls of sweat bead, getting bigger and bigger until they drop. For a second it feels to Hannibal like his mouth follows the trail it takes over and down the dimples in Will's hips.
The ice keeps melting in his glass, getting smaller and smaller. Hannibal tries to concentrate on it, how it drifts away, but he can't. Everything is hot, Will is hot, the weather is hot; he is suffocating inside his white linen shirt and pants while staring at most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
He should have stayed inside, cooked a dessert, whipped up more apéritifs, anything at all to keep his hands busy. He shifts in his seat by the set table, in the shadow. The sunshade isn’t enough to help him cool down, not with Will looking like this and for so long. He feels the weight of his cock filling out in his pants, he's sure he could recite at the top of his head every millimeter it has thickened multiplied by how many times Will has bent over to check the meat.
Will opens the damned grill again and slowly but surely pours a liquid concoction over the smoked meat.
It sizzles, soft vapors clinging to Will's face and beard while he hums again. There are other sounds Hannibal would rather get out of him. Still, it sounds heavenly, even better than it smells.
"How much longer?" Hannibal muses out loud, trying to make the words come out of his mouth as if he isn't desperate for this torture to end. He feels like a spoiled child asking are we there yet twenty minutes into a 13-hour drive.
"You hungry already?"
Not for what you are cooking.
"I was merely wondering wether to dress the salads or not."
"Can't rush this, doll." The words go straight to Hannibal's gut, somewhere near his groin.
"It's not in my interest to haste your cooking, Will." He says, as if that wasn't exactly his interest.
Will chuckles as he closes the grill. "I'd give it half an hour more at least, so just relax for a while, okay?" It feels to dismissive for Hannibal to be told to relax, he doesn't know how Will expects him to just relax while he looks like this.
For a second he considers just going into the house. Leaving Will to his grill and his beers, have a moment to compose himself and make good use of his time, maybe even bake something to have for dessert. He scraps the idea the second Will picks up a small kitchen cloth to dab at his forehead. He has to remind himself to close his mouth so as to net let any flies in, licking his lips and taking in a small breath through his nose.
This has to stop, at least for a minute so he can keep his composure.
Will picks up his can of beer and drinks, neck completely stretched and exposed as he tries to get the even the last drop into his mouth. Hannibal can feel the wet patch forming in the front of his not heat appropriate satin underwear.
He stands up in a second, the patio table clattering with glasses and cutlery on it. He stills his almost finished St-Germain before it falls and swiftly picks it up before turning and walking into the house.
“I will come back in a second.” Right before turning around he would swear he sees Will smirk.
His feet shuffle against the wooden floor, doing his best to ignore the ache inside his pants. The house has never seemed as big as it seems to him now, the kitchen feels kilometers away.
He’s glad that the sanctuary of his kitchen is a few degrees colder thanks to the colorful ceramic tiles that line the floor. It gives him a moment to catch his breath and try to calm down. One shaky hand leaves the glass on the counter while the other slides down over his crotch, pressing down to ease the uncomfortable strain.
He can’t remember a time in his life when he has felt as flushed as he feels right now. He braces himself on the kitchen island, the coldness of the stone marble surface seeping into his palms. Not even as a teenager he felt the need to masturbate as much as the last month, with Will lying around alluringly on the garden, sleeping only in his boxers on the living room sofas and coming from runs shirtless and sweating. He has to pull himself together now, wait for the right moment to do anything about his feelings.
The Fall had been a complete change in the person Hannibal knew as Will, the man had turned more confident, more happy, more toned than he has ever seen him. He touches Hannibal just as much as he let the doctor touch him when they were in Baltimore, which is to say a lot more than casual friends do, and he sometimes slips nicknames or endearments that would be better suited for a partner. But still Hannibal is hesitant to do anything that might drive the man away. It’s been almost three months since they got to the house, not nearly enough for Will to appropriately mourn his past life, much less to finally accept the love, and lust, that Hannibal has had for him since they met.
He pinches the skin of his pants and slowly pries it away from his skin. The wetness causes it to stick, the soft drag brings a small moan to his lips, and he bites them to quiet it down.
He needs a shower, cold water and a change of clothes. Maybe even a quick release from the problem he has in his hands, there’s no way just a shower will help if he has to see Will shirtless again until God knows when. He could slip out and return refreshed, specially if that wretched thing Will is cooking will take at least half an hour more, he could come back just in time to eat.
He is ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of water splashing, loud and explosive.
His mouth dries out.
He looks at what is left of his drink and slams it back with all the grace he can muster before he starts walking outside again.
“Will?”
The name feels heavy on his tongue as he looks at the grill and the man is not there.
He can feel his face flush when he turns around.
Will Graham stands by the pool, swimming trunks low on his hips, dripping wet from head to toe. His eyes linger on the Adonis belt that highlights his hipbones and lower, over his crotch. The man might as well not be wearing anything for how much the clingy fabric shows. His curls are stuck to his face, he shoves his two hands under the locks to let them loose, biceps tightening. Hannibal doesn’t know how much warmer this world can get, but he distantly wonders if maybe he died in the Atlantic sea and he is hell. It must be.
Will shakes his head just like one of his strays would, water sprays out and Hannibal can feel a few drops land on his face and chest, wetting the linen. A soft warm laugh comes out of Will and for a second Hannibal forgets how to breathe, frozen right by the table. He leans on it, knuckles almost white and, he hopes, out of Will’s view.
“Water’s great, you know, maybe a little dip would do you good.“ He says as he walks back to grill as if he didn’t look straight out of a risqué painting.
Hannibal has to concentrate hard to reply, but he manages, barely.
“I might.” He clears his throat. “However I’m more inclined to take a shower at the minute.”
Will nods, closes the grill once again and turns to Hannibal.
“Hannibal… Could I ask something from you?”
The older man feels his eyes go wide, but he quickly stitches some semblance of calm before turning to face him.
“Anything.” And he finds that he means it. If Will asked him to kneel in this instant, he would.
“Any chance you could get me a towel?” The disappointment ins unmeasurable. “I need to keep a close eye on the meat.” He smiles and Hannibal almost believes he’s doing this on purpose.
“Of course.” Hannibal nods, he lets go of the table and walks briskly to the closest closet that houses the pool towels.
He chastises himself as he opens the doors, hands reaching blindly for the first towel in their way. To think for a second that Will would have asked him anything other that this, that there was a chance of something else between them other than friendship all together.
He keeps going on autopilot, taking deep breaths to calm himself and pushing against himself with the towel to ease the strain that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what he does.
When he finally gets back to the deck, Will is not at the grill again. He’s also not at the pool.
Before he can turn around he feels a warm breath extend over his nape.
“Do you remember that time you smelt me in your office?” One arm sneaks around Hannibal’s waist.
The older man nods, holding his breath, still as he can.
“Mmm…” Will hums, breathing in. “Thanks.“ He grabs the towel and steps away just enough to spread it out. “You smell good.”
“Thank you.“ His throat feels dry, the words come out try to save face, but they don’t land as intended. Will chuckles, he rubs the towel against his hair for a second before throwing it in the ground by Hannibal’s feet.
In a second, he’s pressed against Hannibal’s back, body still wet. His clothes slowly start to stick to his skin, almost fusing them together.
“You could have looked at me all day and still do nothing about it, huh?” The words feel scalding over his ear.
Will grabs onto Hannibal’s crotch.
“You think I can’t tell, baby?” Hannibal shudders as Will squeezes. “How hard I make you?”
Hannibal’s mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. The only thought on Hannibal’s mind is if the man can feel how wet he is, it makes his legs unsteady. Will presses hard onto Hannibal's cock, pushing him back until he hits his chest and stands flush against him, holding his weight for him.
“I’m going crazy waiting for you to notice how much I want you.” Will slots his hard cock right in between his ass cheeks and moves his hips once, twice, Hannibal’s mind goes blank with lust.
“Will-” it comes out as a groan and Will chuckles. The rumble of his chest makes Hannibal’s cheeks flush, the heat is truly intolerable. “Shh, doll, be good for me.” As if Hannibal could muster any more words.
The hand on Hannibal’s cock squeezes once before letting go and slowly traveling up, pulling his shirt up and touching skin until it gets to his neck. “Such a gentleman you are, letting me set the pace… Waiting for me…” The hand struggles for a second undoing the top button, then the next, until there’s enough space for it to snake up and grip Hannibal’s neck.
The other grips his right hip like Will wants to take it from him and add it to the grill. His breathing speeds, almost panting.
This must be a dream, the warm climate playing tricks on his mind.
If it is, he’ll make the most of it.
In a hard movement, Will holds him tighter and Hannibal feels him everywhere. He thinks about the bruises he hopes will show up tomorrow.
“I didn’t leave a whole life behind-” possessed by jealousy, Hannibal growls. “Tsk, you know better than that, baby.” He’d be embarrassed to be treated like one of Will’s dogs if it didn’t fuel the fire that’s spreading from between his legs. Will’s hand tightens on his neck as warning. “I didn’t leave a whole life behind, a good life mind you, just to be a friend you kill with.”
“Will, you’ve never-” before he can react, he is turned around. With one hand Will holds onto his nape, with the other he covers Hannibal’s mouth. It smells heavily of chlorine and grease.
“I want everything, Hannibal.”
The words go straight to his cock, twitching uselessly in his pants.
“I want you to be mine, completely. Now, I’ll give you the chance to step away, but I need you to know that this is not a game for me, it never has been.”
With the hand stopping him from speaking he can just nod, eyes running all over Will’s face, locking into his Will’s. The fire he sees in them makes his knees almost give out, but the other man holds him up. There’s something else hidden in his eyes, something that looks a lot like fear, but Hannibal hopes that if anything Will’s gift can show him how much he truly wants this.
Will slips his hand away from Hannibal’s mouth, only to replace i with his own. The kiss stars slow, but picks up instantly. Hannibal opens his mouth to nip at Will’s bottom lip, growls as he gets his hands on the man, holding onto his shoulders as hard as he can.
Will groans into the kiss and moves them backwards until Hannibal’s hips bump against the outdoor table.
A shy tongue makes his way into Hannibal’s mouth and he sucks on it shamelessly. Will breaks them apart and for a second Hannibal thinks he might have gone too far, but the smirk that greets him as Will presses their foreheads together.
“There’s so much I’ve been waiting to do to you.” Hannibal lets out a small moan, pupil's blown out. Will leans in over his neck, pressing his lips right under his jaw.
“We- We have all the time in the world.” He tries to sound composed, romantic even, but it comes out ruined by the small pants and moans that butt in as Will kisses and bites down his neck. There’s sweat everywhere, if sitting in the shade had been intolerable, to be under Will’s ministrations is unbearable. He feels in hell and heaven at the same time.
He can sense the drops of his own sweat mixing with the water drops coming from Will’s hair. To the other man, it makes no difference as he licks his way back up the neck in one long stripe. Hannibal lets one hand come up and rest in between Will’s loose wet curls. He pulls at the hair, not enough to push him away, just enough to hurt.
With a grunt, Will responds by biting, worrying the skin between his teeth until he knows it will bruise. Hannibal hisses and moans.
“You like that?” Will taunts, sliding his hand over the other man’s back and down his ass. “Everyone knowing you are mine?”
Hannibal bites his lips and nods shakily. With both hands, Will squeezes as hard as he can. Before he goes back to his neck, he looks up to him and smirks. “Open your shirt up for me.”
Every button that he opens is a bite to the neck, one hickey placed where new skin is uncovering.
When the shirt is finally completely open, Will takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks. Hannibal tries to hold onto Will’s head, but his hands are gently redirected towards the table and held against it for a second until Will is sure his message has been taken.
He hums as he licks, sucks and bites, specially when Hannibal can’t keep the lovely sounds he makes inside. He tortuously makes his way to the other side. “Let me hear you.” He takes his sweet time taking him apart, not satisfied until the sound Hannibal makes come out with no filter.
He steps back, breaking all contact. “Turn around. Brace against the table.” He doesn’t have to tell Hannibal twice, He grips the wooden edge of the table hard enough he’d get splinters if he could.
Will leans over him, kisses his nape once before his hands start to work on Hannibal’s belt. His linen pants fall to the floor and for once in his life he couldn’t care less about how wrinkled they end up. Wills fingers toy with the hem of his underwear, pulling it back taut and letting it go. It stings.
“Such a good boy…” The hand is back at his crotch, feeling the wetness, toying with the cloth, pulling it away only to squeeze his cock and milk him more. “So wet for me, baby.” He pulls out Hannibal’s cock and balls, out in display.
Hannibal moans, it feels humiliating, but it only fuels him further, he can feel how he keeps dripping, though this time right onto Will’s hand. Hannibal moves his hips, rubbing himself all over Will’s fingers. The hand comes up to his mouth and Hannibal is face with the slick curling around until it’s almost dripping.
“Come on, taste yourself.” Will brings his digits closer and Hannibal tentatively gives a small cat-like lick to one. “I bet it’s good, sweetheart, go on., take it all in.” He opens his mouth, barely an inch, and Will shoves them in. He sucks as much as he can, trying to lick the underside at same time.
“Oh god, that mouth.” Hannibal moans around the fingers. “You were made for this, for me.”
It’s too soon when Will pulls them out, pressing onto his own cock to alleviate the tension.
Will moves his Hannibal’s hips until they meet his again, then with a strong constant push on his shoulder he lowers him until head is almost at the table’s level. For a moment, nothing happens. Hannibal is about to turn his head to see when he hears the low thud of Will’s knees hitting the deck.
Strong hands grab his ass cheeks and spread him open.
“Will-”
“Not now, doll.” He is quieted instantly, not only because of the sternness of the words, but because Will strokes his spit covered hand over Hannibal’s hole and onto his balls. Hannibal unconsciously startles, but a steady pressure on top of his back keeps him locked in.
Will blows softly onto his skin, and between the spit and the sweat it feels cold, cooler than he has felt all day.
Will give another squeeze to his cock that turns into a slow pump, thumb coming over his slit. He leans closer until his tongue darts out and licks around his hole.
“Will, please.”
“Fuck, you taste so good, I’m gonna take my time, baby, savor you like the meal you are.” Will’s tongue reaches out again, running flat over his hole.
He keeps prodding and licking around until he slips it inside. Hannibal almost screams, and let’s go of the table to take hold of Will’s hair and press against him. For a second, Will lets him, but soon his hand is slapped away. Hannibal can’t recognize the sounds he is making or if there is any logic to any of them.
After what seems like an eternity, Will is finally satisfied. He spits onto his fingers and one by one he opens Hannibal until he can take three.
The hand on his cock hasn’t stopped and Hannibal is afraid of how close he is, he wants more, and he won’t forgive himself if this ends early because of him. “I can’t-” The words die on his tongue as Will hits his prostate two thrusts in a row. “Please, Will… I’ll come.”
Both hands disappear instantly. In a matter of seconds Will is behind him again, pressing the almost dry bathing suit against him. Hannibal can feel his hard cock through the fabric, it feels even bigger than what it looked when Will got out of the pool.
He is brought out of his thoughts as Will slaps his ass cheek, it stings and reddens almost instantly. The grunt Hannibal gives is so delicious that he does it again and again and again until he is sure the man will feel it tomorrow or at least, that it will be burning hot until the morning.
He looks down at the wooden floor of the deck, there’s a puddle of precome right under him, almost steadily leaking from him. Will holds Hannibal’s cock and pumps it once before taking as much slick as he can and brings it up to the hole.
“You are so wet for me, doll… God, you are so good for me.”
He grabs the intricate bottle of olive oil Hannibal has to dress the salads, he takes the cork that keeps it closed with his teeth and throws it out onto the table. He pours olive oil all over Hannibal’s cleft. It feels a little cold, but it warms up immediately with the body heat and the rising temperature.
“Fuck, baby.” Hannibal’s cheeks can’t be redder, even if his body keeps trying to make them so. Will’s cock slides against him, in between his ass cheeks, right over his hole. It moves back and forth, slipping over until it catches on the edge.
“Will…“
“Yes, doll?”
“Please…”
“Use your words, what do you need?” He slaps his cock against Hannibal’s ass.
“Need you, please, I need you in me.”
The moan that Will lets out is animalistic. In a swift movement of his hips he slides into Hannibal right up to the hilt. The whole table shakes, metal tingling of the cutlery and glass clinking together.
It feels like an eternity passes before Hannibal can speak again.
“Move… Ah!”
The pace Will sets is punishingly hard, moving Hannibal and the table with him. The grip on Hannibal’s hips Will certainly bruise and it only works to make Hannibal hornier, trying to move back to match the trusts.
“You are so warm and…” Will groans. “So tight for me.”
He keeps driving into Hannibal, angling his hips so it hits the man’s prostate every single time. “You feel so good.” Hannibal moans. The wood under them creaks. Somewhere behind them the juices of the meat sizzle, in their heads it’s their own sweat evaporating with the heat from their bodies.
Will’s arms wrap around Hannibal’s body, holding him up as he fucks into him. His other hand wraps around Hannibal’s cock. “Such a good little whore from me, taking it so well.” His hips move like a blur, when he feels the older man is getting close, he slows back down and holds tight around the base of his cock.
Hannibal moans his disappointment, but it’s only met with warm laughter that rumbles onto his back.
The hand around his chest comes up to hold his chin hard and moves his head until he is forced to look at his reflection on the window.
He sees his own reflection looking back at him, debauched.
His face is flushed, strands of his combed hair have fallen over his eyes, moving in rhythm with Will’s trust. His open hair is falling from his shoulders, pooling around his arms and hands that hold onto the table that’s now a mess.
“Look at you.” Will whispers in his ear. It only makes him harder, to see what Will does to him, all the little hickeys and bruises that litter his neck and chest. “All mine.”
Hannibal nods. “Yours.”
Will smirks, they lock eyes over the reflection as he begins to stroke Hannibal's cock once again. “I’m yours too.” He says, like it’s nothing. Hannibal moans grow stronger, he is grateful he had the foresight to pick a house in the middle of nowhere. “Always have been.”
It’s all it takes for Hannibal to start to fall apart. Will starts moving faster, thrusting in time with his strokes, not taking his eyes away from Hannibal.
Sounds fall from the older man’s mouth, nothing he can understand, in languages he doesn’t know he is speaking.
“Meilužis, Will, amore…. ah… More, please.”
“I know, baby.” Will hushes against his ear.
“Vite s’il vous- I need you.”
“Just a little more, you can take it…” The grunts zone him out, it’s too much and not enough.
“Prašau, prašau… Will.”
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
Hannibal comes with a shout, the closest he can muster to Will’s name. Somewhere to his right a glass falls and shatters onto the deck.
Will lets him fall onto the table, moves both his hands to his hips and drives in as hard as he can. It’s too overwhelming even if it feels like heaven, Hannibal feels his eyes fill up with tears. Will manages a couple of thrust more, mouth hanging open even if no sound is coming out, until he comes.
Hard panting wrecks both their bodies as Will falls over Hannibal. The sweaty skin sticks together, shining in the sun. With shaky arms Will pushes himself up and of Hannibal’s back. He leans back to kiss the top of his shoulder.
He slowly pulls out, making them echo an uncomfortable moan. “Sorry…” Will says sheepishly. He grabs one of the soiled cloth napkins from the table and starts to clean Hannibal as much as he can. Hannibal hisses at the rough fabric, but remains heroically still. Will cleans himself up and pulls his swimming trunk back up.
The next minutes might mean everything, he has to do it right. He needs to gauge if Will really meant everything he said, if it was the heat of the moment that made him speak words he didn’t mean.
“Uh, do you wanna take a shower so we can lay down for a while?” The words seem shy, nothing like the man that was fucking into him just minutes ago. “I can… I can clean this up before we eat.” Hannibal clears his throat before slowly moving to stand up, he is sore in ways he couldn’t remember he could be.
“Will.” He says, trying to take the initiative Will has apparently been going crazy for. “If this is what happens when I ignore you lounging around like a heathen in skimp clothing, I might have to do so more often.”
Will flushes red in a second, hearty laugh following. “I don’t know I think I might go nuts if you ignore me again.” Hannibal holds onto the table, nothing in him is strong enough to stand on his own. Will eyes run along the collar of suck bruises he’s left around Hannibal’s neck, he looks away quickly. “Hannibal, I- I’m sorry, if I was too rough I-”
“Will, look at me.” The man stops in his tracks and meets his eyes. “It was perfect.”
A small moment of silence passes between them, smiling gently at each other.
“Come here.” Will says before stepping closer to Hannibal. He pulls his shirt back over his shoulders, leans down to bring his underwear and pants back up. He grimaces at how the still wet clothes feel on him. “I don’t need you to play doll with me, Will, If you give me a moment, I’m perfectly capable of-” Will doesn’t give him time to keep speaking, he picks Hannibal up bridal style. There’s a dignified yelp that makes Will laugh as he carries him into the house.
He places him down gently over the closed toilet with a smirk in face.
“There was no need for you to do that.”
“Just let me do it for you.“ Will says, leaning in to steal a short kiss.
When he leans back he is bracing for whatever reaction might come, but Hannibal leans back over and kisses him again.
“What about your grill?” He asks as Will turns the water on, trying to seem nonchalant. “Won’t the meat burn?”
“I’ll get you some in bed if you want,” Will says sheepishly, “but it's probably gonna take long enough for us to shower and lay down.”
And Hannibal couldn’t be more thankful about that.