To say that Hannibal was a little disappointed when Will didn't show up to his appointment would be an understatement. Hannibal had gone through the motions during most of his afternoon patients, including Franklyn. He enjoyed talking to Will because the man was unconventional and they could discuss more intelligent topics. That's not to say his patients were dim, though.
Hannibal was attracted to Will on psychological level and he was curious about how the teacher's mind processed information. He wasn't worried so much as concerned about Will's absence, seeing how it was the first time it's happened. Will wasn't merely running late and he hadn't bothered to call with an excuse, which is why Hannibal found himself putting his jacket on and dashing out of his office.
The first stop Hannibal made was at Will's classroom and it ended up being his last. Hannibal froze in the doorway when he saw Will sitting off to the side of his desk, staring blankly into space. Hannibal walked up slowly, eyeing the man curiously when he didn't acknowledge his presence. It appeared Will was having an episode.
Hannibal wondered what was going on in Will's head right now, what memories he might be reliving as his eyes went through the beginning stages of REM sleep. Hannibal could sit there and watch Will dream for hours, taking notes occasionally, but now was not the time or place. Instead, he walks in further until he stands directly beside Will.
"Will," Hannibal says in his normal tone and when he doesn't respond Hannibal opts to raise his voice. "Will."
The young man jerks slightly and rouses from his sleep-like trance, blinking repetitiously to clear the fogginess of sleep from his eyes. Will looks around skeptically as if he's searching for something he's lost, or perhaps to articulate where he is in the present moment. He's a little disoriented but relatively okay, by Hannibal's standards at least.
"I have a twenty-four hour cancellation policy, Will," Hannibal goes on to say when Will is finally lucid enough.
"What time is it?" Will asks somewhat roughly, still groggy with sleep.
"Nearly nine o'clock," Hannibal replies, matter of fact.
"I can't remember falling asleep," Will ponders out loud, murmuring much to himself. He gazes up at Hannibal with worry across his face. "Was I sleepwalking?"
"Your eyes were open but you were not present."
Will sighs deeply at this, trusting Hannibal's word to be true and despising it at the same time. He coveted honest answers but every once in a while Will wished he could be lied to out of pity. Will stretches his arms over his head languidly, arching his back like a cat in order to loosen his body a little. Hannibal drinks in the sight, loving the way Will's frame bows back gracefully before releasing.
"I could quit sleeping altogether," Will hums with bland humor "Best way to avoid bad dreams."
Hannibal offers a short huff of amusement because he can picture Will doing that right now, sitting on his porch in the dark as he stares off into infinite space. How haunted and tired Will would look. How beautiful would he be if he was sickly pale with looming dark circles underneath his bright eyes. Will might become malnourished as well, forgetting to eat because he's too tired to move, and Hannibal would take him away and nurse him back to health. Rebuild and reshape Will in a completely different image after he's been thoroughly destroyed.
The doctor follows Will's gaze over towards the surface of his desk which is cluttered with crime scene photos of various victims. Some who are expressed quaintly and others presented in an extravagant tableaux of morbid beauty. He smirks subtly when he spots the severed arm of Miriam Lass, suppressing the urge to pick it up and revel in the beauty it signifies.
"I can see why you have bad dreams," Hannibal regards, pushing a photo or two aside to see the ones underneath.
Will cups his hands and rubs his face to stimulate some sort of awareness into his senses and succeeds abysmally. Hannibal clears his throat, prompting Will's gaze to drift up to the scattered photos on his desk. He watches Hannibal sift through them casually, brushing his fingertips across each glossy snapshot. The motion makes Will fidget in his place.
He's always had a secret fascination with Hannibal's hands and what they were capable of. Will realizes now that those hands had the power to save a life as well as take one. The knowledge of that coupled with Hannibal touching pictures of the Ripper's victims got Will going a little bit. What would they feel like wrapped around his wrists or throat, Will wondered.
Sometimes, and Will is ashamed to admit it, he likes to think of all the different ways Hannibal could have ended Tobias Budge. He's read Hannibal's statement over a dozen times, but there were aspects about the incident that got Will's imagination whirring to life. Out of everything Hannibal was capable of doing in order to survive, he ended up bludgeoning Tobias with his stag statue. Such ironic, poetic beauty.
Hannibal stills his hand and clears his throat again to get Will's attention. His face flushes to a soft shade of pink when Will realizes Hannibal has caught him gawking and the older man smirks subtly at this. Will tries to avert his gaze to something less interesting but his eyes keep getting drawn to the photo Hannibal has decided to rest his fingertips against. What's even worse is the fact that Will's pants are uncomfortably tight, leaving little to the imagination.
"It seems as though you are in quite a predicament, Will," Hannibal remarks casually even when the bulge in Will's pants is blatantly obvious.
"I'm sure I'll get used to it," Will sighs, dropping his hands in his lap to conceal his arousal.
"And what about the excitement you get from these cases? Are you used to that?" Hannibal presses, letting his eyes wander to Will's lap.
"Of course I am," Will admits with a shrug. "Solving cases to me is what a crossword puzzle is to a normal person."
"The type of excitement I'm referring to is sexual," Hannibal clarifies, seeing a shift in Will's posture.
"Just what exactly are you trying to imply, doctor?" Will asks as he becomes more and more flustered.
"You get off on the violence depicted in these crime scene photos and you're afraid of what people might think," Hannibal deduces effortlessly, relishing the glorious blush filling in Will's cheeks.
"Excuse me?" Will squawks defensively as his face heats up.
"Show me," Hannibal goes onto say, ignoring Will.
Hannibal holds a hand out towards the young man and Will gawks at it dubiously in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Embarrassed because Hannibal was disturbingly accurate and fearful of what Hannibal might have planned. When Will doesn't move for another few seconds Hannibal begins to beckon him over by curling a finger and Will eyes the gesture, transfixed by the subtle elegance of Hannibal's hand.
Will unconsciously rises out of his seat and clasps his hands in front of his groin to try and mask the fact that he's still hard, but Hannibal knows better. Hannibal walks over towards Will, circling around him to stand directly behind the young man. Will swallows by reflex when Hannibal presses his broad body against his back, causing a shiver creep down his spine. He can feel Hannibal's hot breath curling around his neck and it honestly makes Will shake with want.
"You don't have to feel judged around me Will," Hannibal murmurs into his ear intimately. "I can assure you that I'm far more accepting than most."
"You make it sound like something's wrong with me, doctor," Will chuckles nervously, feeling himself tense under Hannibal's scrutiny. "Do you..? Think there's something wrong with me, I mean?"
"Absolutely not," Hannibal says without hesitation. "I do believe you see it as something abnormal, though. Why is that?"
Hannibal wraps his arms around Will and swiftly disentangles Will's hands away from his groin to place them at his sides. Will wants to rebel and cover himself up again, but ultimately finds it redundant at this point. The damage has been done. Hannibal brushes a hand against the tent in Will pants and offers a short hum of amusement, making Will swallow audibly.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Will implores on a shaky breath, fidgeting but otherwise letting Hannibal grope him. "It's sick by anyone's standards... Including mine."
"Then why are you so turned on?"
Will makes a sudden gasp when Hannibal squeezes more firmly, grinding the heel of his hand to create friction, and Will swears he feels himself become harder. It wasn't just the friction or pressure that pushed Will's buttons so much as the fact that it was Hannibal's hand manipulating his arousal.
"It wasn't just the bodies I was thinking about," Will says, swallowing his gasps to make his words coherent.
Hannibal discards the groping to undo the front of Will's pants instead, bunching the waistband of his underwear and pants to push them down mid-thigh with one swift pull. Will's erection springs free, flushed a light pink hue and steadily collecting moisture at the tip. Hannibal's hand encloses around the base firmly to elicit a choked up whimper from Will.
"Tell me," Hannibal urges in a low husky tone that nearly lulls Will into daze.
"I was thinking about Tobias Budge..."
This makes Hannibal still his hand and Will feels a shift in the doctor mood, as if he's put off at the mention of that particular human being.
"I was looking at your hands and thinking of all the ways you could've killed Budge," Will gushes, rephrasing his statement. Anything to make Hannibal understand and move his hand just a little bit. "What they'd feel like around my throat, choking me. Knowing they've killed someone."
"Fantasizing about being strangled by me," Hannibal says after a moment.
It isn't a question and Will realizes that Hannibal is right. Suddenly, Will's classroom feels a lot smaller and the atmosphere around him is heavy, compressing the cavity of his chest. His throat felt tight and the muscles constricted in such a way that Will couldn't breath. Will only became aware that it was Hannibal's hand after the fact. Instinctively, Will brings his hands up and starts to claw at the hand around his throat but Hannibal doesn't let go, causing Will to panic as well as get a rush of adrenaline.
"Fighting will only make me grip tighter. You of all people should know that," Hannibal murmurs with a small tsk.
Will eventually gives up with his struggle, knowing it was in vain, and Hannibal's grip around his neck loosens minimally, granting Will much needed oxygen. Will drops his hands down and grips the edge of his desk for some leverage when the hand around his cock begins to stroke him slowly.
"Do you trust me, Will?" Hannibal inquires, twisting his hand just the right way to draw a low groan from Will.
Of course Will trusts Hannibal. Will nods his head obediently, although the motion is somewhat restrained by Hannibal's large hand. Hannibal tests Will's resolve by squeezing harder this time, causing Will's adam's apple to rub on the wrong side of painful. Panic, however, doesn't set in this time as Will surrenders under the doctor's dominance.
When Will doesn't make an attempt to struggle Hannibal rewards him with a long twisting pull of the hand wrapped securely around Will's cock. Will's mouth hangs open but no sound is audible as the air to do so is robbed from him. It's as if Will is dizzy from arousal and adrenaline when the reality of the situation suggests it's because of the lack of air. Either way, Will no longer seems to care once Hannibal strokes him thoroughly.
Just having Hannibal's hands touching and squeezing and stroking is enough to make Will flush with euphoria. Especially the hand around his throat. Hannibal buries his face into Will's hair to inhale a scent that is undoubtedly him and strokes Will until his cock is coated with his own pre-come, making his skin slippery.
Hannibal lets go of Will's neck and releases his cock in order to push Will down belly first onto his desk cluttered with snapshots of grotesque works of art. Will is left slightly disoriented and gasping for air as Hannibal bends over to pull the young man's pants down further, exposing Will's rear end. Will turns pink with bashfulness, always afraid of how Hannibal perceives him even in a state like this. It's already embarrassing that Hannibal knows he secretly fantasizes about his hands.
Once Will's pants and underwear are down around his ankles, Hannibal stands back up and leans over Will's body to snatch up a fistful of downy hair. He forces Will's head back and presses three fingers into the young man's mouth. Hannibal doesn't tell Will what to do because he knows Will is smart enough to figure it out and, as such, he begins to suck obediently on Hannibal's fingers to wet them liberally, tasting faint traces of his pre-come.
When Hannibal is satisfied he pulls his fingers out of Will's mouth and reaches down between Will's thighs, pressing two of them firmly against his entrance. Will keens at the sensation, going so far as to try and push himself onto them. This prompts Hannibal to yank on his hair a little, reminding him to be patient.
Hannibal teases Will by rubbing his wet fingertips over his tight ring of muscle until finally relenting and pushing them inward. Will makes an undulating noise in the back of his throat and squirms slightly to gain friction. Hannibal lightly thrusts his fingers into Will's body, adding a third when he deems it necessary, and Will takes it.
Feeling Hannibal's skillful fingers probe him intimately make Will want to climb the walls with frustration, loving the way they feel but knowing it's just not enough. Will loves the process of having his entrance stretched, especially when there's nothing but saliva to ease the way. He strives on the pleasant burn it leaves within his body.
"Do you see those pictures beneath you, Will?" Hannibal inquires thoughtfully, pulling on Will's hair again to force him to look.
"Yes..." Will nearly whispers, afraid of how pathetic and whiny he might sound if he says anything more.
"I want you to look at them and pleasure yourself while I fuck you into the desk," Hannibal orders firmly, showing no hint of a bluff.
And Will complies by hurriedly wrapping a hand around his cock and tugging hastily. Hannibal twists his fingers inside of Will and presses firmly, searching out the right button to push until hearing the beautiful noises Will produces. He nudges the tips of his fingers against the same spot and the result is the same as before. More choked up moans and half-hearted gasps that remain incomplete.
Will has to brace his other hand onyo desktop to prop himself up and stare down at the crime scene photos as he strokes himself vigorously. Depictions of graphic mutilations and lifeless bodies that cloud over Will's brain even when he shuts his eyes. Hannibal withdraws his fingers from Will's somewhat loosened entrance and lets go of the man's hair with a little shove.
Will stills his hand for a moment, waiting intently as he hears the faint ruffle of Hannibal undoing his fly. Hannibal snatches Will by the hair and angles his head marginally, prompting Will to lick the palm of Hannibal's other hand thoroughly. Will drags his tongue in long savoring swipes, tasting the mixture of pre-come and other bodily secretions. All Will could think about is how that same hand killed a man.
Will takes his time, knowing how much of a wanton whore he must look like right now and not particularly caring. Anyone could walk into his classroom right now and Will wouldn't care. He feels more like a dog lapping at his master's hand than anything else, slobbering pathetically to convey some form of trust. Hannibal pulls his hand away all too quickly and Will makes a short whimper like the dog he is right now.
Hannibal wets his cock with Will's saliva. It's not nearly enough for what he plans to do, but neither man really intended for this to take place in Will's classroom. Or at all, for that matter. Hannibal would have rejoiced in drawing out Will's pleasure all night long but now that it's started, neither one of them intends to stop. Proper sexual etiquette be damned.
The surreality of the moment is capitalized when the head of Hannibal's cock wedges between Will's cheeks, seeking out entry into his body and receiving it in abundance. Will's hole, though somewhat resistant, gives way to make room for Hannibal's cock and takes it jaggedly. It isn't the most pleasurable entry but it isn't entirely bad either. Hannibal's cock nudges in on the right side of painful, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Will.
Once Hannibal has bottomed out within Will he places a hand upon the man's hip while the other makes itself at home around his neck. Will was almost afraid Hannibal wasn't going to do that again and was thankful when he applied some pressure. This action makes Will upright a little more and he has to make an effort to look down at the photographs on his desk. Will was now at a perfect balance of suffering.
Without further preamble, Hannibal begins a rough pace of thrusting in and out of Will's entrance, loving the way his body grips him snugly. Sounds of distress and immense stimulation are pushed out of Will with each snap of Hannibal's hips and Will looks down at the picture he's chosen as a distraction from his quickly impending orgasm.
Will is stroking himself in a jagged rhythm that can't keep a specific cadence because Hannibal's thrusts push him much too forcefully and one hand keeping him upright isn't the best support either. Will focuses on the picture, admiring the Chesapeake Ripper's work of art as Hannibal fucks the sound out of him. His moans are somewhat choked up, however, seeing as how the hand around Will's throat deviates each incoherent syllable.
Will is ashamed at how close he is already but strokes his cock vigorously enough to get him to his threshold. His mind in this moment is just one jumbled up mess. Will is concentrating on the picture and how Hannibal's hand around his neck feels as Hannibal thrusts shallowly into his channel.
It's all too much and Will finds himself moaning more loudly than he means to. Hannibal cuts off these sounds by squeezing his neck, prompting Will to think about the comment Hannibal made earlier about strangling him. Will shudders and then it's finally over for him as he comes all over his fist and desk, ropes of white just barely missing a snapshot or two. His cock jerks here and there as his body is wracked with aftershocks but Hannibal doesn't stop or slow down.
Hannibal releases Will's neck and pushes him down flat against the desk, letting Will's torso obscure the majority of brutal photographs. He grabs ahold of Will's hips and really starts to give it to him, making Will mumble incoherent ramblings of post-orgasmic nonsense. Will's hole is tighter than it was before, more tense after his muscles contracted from his orgasm, and Hannibal has to make an effort to thrust even remotely smoothly.
Ultimately, Hannibal opts to pull out at the last moment. He pushes Will's shirt up to expose the small of his back and takes his cock in hand, jerking it a few times before marking Will with warm, white streaks. Hannibal makes a soft groan of completion and continues to stroke himself until the tingling sensation of release subsides to a dull indifference.
He looks down at Will who is covered with sweat and come and crime scene photos, panting breathlessly as he grips onto the edges of his desk. Will couldn't look more perfect than he does right now and as much as Hannibal would love to bask in it a little longer, he knows they must get cleaned up before someone unknowingly stumbles across their coupling.
Hannibal wipes off the small of Will's back and the desk with tissue the teacher often leaves in his desk for nose blowing mostly and helps the the young man to stand up on shaken legs. Will is still pleasantly flushed a bright pink color, looking guilty as ever when he puts himself away. It's as if Will is ashamed with himself even after the fact and it has Hannibal curious.
"Which picture were you looking at when you climaxed?" Hannibal finds himself asking soon after.
"Jeremy Olmstead," Will replies, seeing no reason to lie to Hannibal. After all, he already knows the worst of it.
"Why that one?" Hannibal goes on to inquire, genuinely curious why Will chose that one out of all the Chesapeake Ripper's victims.
Will has to stop and think for a moment. He can't even begin to describe why, of all the pictures on his desk, he picked that one. He just did. What's odd is that Hannibal looks almost pleased with this answer, like he had been expecting it all along. A thought crosses Will's mind, one that dares to change his perception of Hannibal, but he disregards it before it can fully form.
"It was beautiful," Will praises instead, looking Hannibal directly in the eye.
Hannibal smirks, satisfied with Will's answer.
"It certainly was."