This was written for the Dreamwidth Hannibal kink meme in 2013.
Prompt: "They blowjob on the moon, Will cries for four hours"
Hannibal was rich. Rich as balls. But few people knew he was rich enough to vacation in space. And now, finally, the last item on his bucket list would be completed thanks to Will Graham's pesky inability to say no.
The spaceship had landed just a few short hours ago after their four-day journey. After the requisite safety checks, it was time. Zero gravity allowed Hannibal to float out of his chair and over to Will's, where the man had been sat desperately gripping the arm rests and staring ahead all morning (Was it morning? Who could tell.) The poor thing didn't even like planes; it was a miracle he'd made it here in one piece. Slowly he turned to meet Hannibal's eyes, looking quite like a dog that expected a punishment of some kind.
"Shall we begin?" Hannibal asked. There was no need for ceremony. The goal - the request - had been simple when it was brought up months ago. Will had agreed; that was that. No pretenses. Will nodded shakily and Hannibal led him by the hand into the next room, safely away from the control panels. Hannibal unzipped Will's orange safety suit slowly, watching as he arched back up against the wall and tipped his head, looking down his nose and letting his lips part. Despite the coldness of space, all he wore underneath was a t-shirt and boxers. Hannibal gingerly removed Will's glasses and then tossed them back over his shoulder, letting them float slowly up. Will gulped. Hannibal shrugged off his own jumpsuit, revealing practical longjohns beneath. Once those were methodically removed as well, he turned back to study Will.
His back was pressed into the wall, his eyes were wide, his knuckles were turning white as he gripped at the white counter next to him. He was tense. Will always got horrifically nervous when it came to new things that involved touch, but you had to give the boy credit for trying. Every sex act in their short relationship had been a huge hurdle, but now some were like second nature to him. Perhaps interplanetary blowjobs were not.
Hannibal closed the space between them and let his hands roam up Will's hips, under the hem of his shirt. His gaze was intense and his breaths were shaky but Hannibal could tell how hard he was trying to steady them. Hannibal removed Will's shirt and resumed the embrace, still trying to calm him. Their lips brushed together, gently, and Will found his balance.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
The hand at the small of Will's back was suddenly in his hair, fingers threaded firmly through brown curls, and he was pushed to his knees. Despite Will's anxiety, he took a deep breath and placed his hands on the hips in front of him. He knew how Hannibal hated dawdlers. He carefully took the stiff cock into his mouth as he had dozens of times before, hesitant as he waited for the first of many rough thrusts. He flattened his tongue along the underside of the shaft and leaned closer, taking in as much as he could until he gagged, eyes shutting tight as he mentally cursed himself for such a failure. Hannibal only stroked Will's cheek in response. Once that pretty little head started to bob with more vigour and assuredness, Hannibal held onto Will's shoulder with one hand and the back of Will's skull with the other. He rammed his cock as far down his throat as he could, holding him still by a fistful of his locks, beginning the barrage of merciless thrusts as Will gagged and pawed at the air and tears welled in the corners of his closed eyes. It was heavenly.
Suddenly Hannibal paused. Why had the idea not occurred to him sooner? The lack of gravity would be a great bonus, a great aid. He removed his cock from Will's mouth, eliciting a sputtering cough, and gave him a moment to regain his composure. Once Will looked up with a puzzled expression - tinged with worry that he had been unsatisfactory - Hannibal helped him up to his feet. And then off of his feet, until he was floating.
"Spin."
"What?"
Impatience getting the better of him, Hannibal placed his hands under Will's arms and flipped him upsidedown. It was almost laughable how the other man flapped his hands in disoriented panic, but Hannibal guided those hands to his hips once more and returned his cock to its rightful place. This time, however, Will's crotch was right in front of his eyes. He disposed of his boxers with ease. The poor dear had been so focused on his task that he forgot to become aroused himself. Hannibal quickly corrected that, taking Will's cock to the base and sucking hard until a muffled half-whimper half-moan came from below. He pushed off of the spaceship's floor, propelling both of them.
This was better than he ever could have imagined, spinning weightlessly, flipping over and over again in a zero gravity 69. The feeling alone was so divine that he preferred to keep his eyes shut; perhaps someone else would compare the sensation to being on a rollercoaster.
Minutes of sheer bliss passed. Will's short nails were now firmly embedded in Hannibal's ass cheeks, hanging on for dear life and trying not to pass out from the bevy of overwhelming new sensations. Hannibal's cheeks had hollowed around Will's cock and his head bobbed in perfect rhythm, yet somehow he was satisfied with Will's wet, erratic, sloppy reciprocation.
Will never had to announce it; Hannibal knew, even from their first times, which sounds to listen for. The desperate mewls and moans, detectable even when smothered by a cock. At last Hannibal could allow himself release as well. Just a few more seconds, a few more frantic gasps around his cock, and ecstasy washed over the both of them. Two climactic moans, one decidedly more higher-pitched than the other.
Post-coital was always the same - Hannibal's composed and even re-energized attitude contrasting with Will's silent wracked shivers and sniffles, rubbing at his own shoulders - although apparently the excitement of being on the moon amplified their reactions. Will was now in the beginning stages of bawling, where your throat is so tight that no sound will come out and you're left with a rather unflattering open-mouthed grimace until the wave crashes and your skeleton is shaken with sob after sob. Hannibal was already dressed. Will was clambering, scrambling for something steady to hold on to, ending in curling up in a ball on the floor and keeping himself there by gripping the corner of the counter.
It was all too much. The euphoria. The high. The shock of what he'd just done and the flowchart of thoughts that branched off from it - Was he the first person to do this? Should it go in a record book of some kind? Did he want it to? Was there even a record book like that in existence? Surely Hannibal was going to brag about this to everyone he knew? Was he good enough to brag about? Oh god - crowded his mind. He was on pins and needles, every inch of his skin still oversensitive as it always was after orgasm, every inhale feeling like a static shock. To top it all off, this place was unfamiliar. Hannibal was the only staple of his aftercare and here, on the fucking moon, that was not enough to stop his tears. He missed his dogs. He missed his blankets. He missed the kingsize bed and the kava tea and the soft classical music that usually followed their more adventurous romps.
Even though he knew he would return to all of those things soon, it was not enough to comfort him whatsoever. His cries got louder, eyes and cheeks burning hot, head throbbing, snot dribbling out of his nose, tears blurring his vision until he blinked hard enough to free them into the air. Hannibal slid over next to him, draped Will's space suit around his shoulders and held him in his arms, attempting to soothe him after a job well done. Words were always useless in these times; he had learned that the only time verbal reassurance would help was when Will asked for it specifically. Instead, all Hannibal could do was stroke his sweat-damp hair and give him something to cling to. It was a vicious cycle - Will wanted to stop crying, and his inability to stop only made him more upset, only made him cry harder and harder and feel more and more lost and pathetic.
After a rather exasperating hour of this cuddling, Hannibal left Will to his own devices and floated away to look at the view. There was Earth, a marble of ocean and green, a little scoop of blueberry sorbet, floating in the blackness.
"It's so beautiful from afar," Hannibal said, pressing a hand to the cold glass of spaceship's viewport as a single glistening manly tear rolled down his cheek and floated into the air. Behind him, Will continued to choke on sobs. Three hours passed and neither of them moved.