Sunday, 29th of March,
Flesh, cruelly hid.
Tempting roundness, firmness craves;
Begs to be explored.
Tuesday, 12th of April,
By this point I am most certain that I know most of Will's trousers, their brand, their size, their design. It would be of no great difficulty to acquire those pairs a size smaller and switching them out with those in his washing machine. The probability of Will believing that they have shrunk is high. Naturally, they would have to be worked on beforehand as not to let their newness show.
However, being aware of how many eyes rest on Will's backside drives me to the conclusion that it is better to leave his trousers as they are no matter how much it would please me to see him wear a tighter fit.
It would be troublesome if more people were acutely aware of what his trousers cover. Two of the dinner guests showed intolerable amounts of interest in Will's appearance. They shall not be invited again with Will present. Chances of them meeting by chance away from my dinner table are slim and can be dismissed with the tiniest of worries. The difficulty of blocking the view from preying eyes is not to be underestimated as the host.
Perhaps it would be wiser to from now on only invite Will to dinner when it is the two of us.
Friday, 22nd of April,
The decision of no longer inviting certain people with Will present turns out to be the correct one. Mr. Dinhaven approached me in the opera and inquired to the whereabouts of that "boy with the fine ass". Terribly crude of him even if the statement itself is not untrue and it was made abundantly clear to Mr. Dinhaven that his interest was not welcome.
Will blinked a few times, trying to register what he had just read. Had Hannibal killed a guy for looking at and mentioning Will's buttocks? The question whether or not this amount of obsession was to be considered worrisome did indeed cross Will's thoughts but was drowned out by his mind loudly chanting "OMGOMGOMG". He had not known that Hannibal was this possessive of him and it stunned Will. In Hannibal's company he felt appreciated instead of tolerated and it made him feel strangely satisfied to know that Hannibal valued him so much.
Sunday, 1st of May,
Summer is fast approaching and the idea of getting a pool of some kind - perhaps a whirlpool? - won't let go. The possibilities that arise from possessing one are tempting albeit most are not likely to happen.
Would Will be willing to wear speedos if I provided some in the right size? The answer is probably no but perhaps the feeling of security is now strong enough in my presence to allow for a relaxed evening in the water.
His willingness to enjoy that and his opinion regarding pools in general needs to be investigated.
Wednesday, 4 th of May,
As expected seeing Will in speedos is not achievable at the moment. More persuasion and the building of trust and warm feelings is necessary before it can be accomplished. The probability of getting him to wear said piece of clothing does not increase by much should I get him drunk. Drugs where he is still able to walk and get the swimwear on himself are too dangerous to even put into consideration. Of course, the drugs that are already used on him would be an option but the view of his undoubtedly beautiful buttocks while he moves would be far more appealing.
The glimpse of something one cannot yet have, tempting and tantalizing, stirring one's hunger until it is a blazing craving. Satisfying that desire after that, no, getting that desire satisfied after enduring makes it that much sweeter.
Will might have made a choking noise, although how choking was possible when his mouth felt dry like that he did not know.
He vaguely remembered Hannibal making an offhanded remark about pools and a lot of people feeling less self-conscious there than on the streets in short clothing and states of security that come with the feeling of fitting in and belonging to a group and "What do you think about whirlpools, Will?".
He should stop reading if he ever wanted to be able to look again without blushing. But curiosity not only killed the cat but also logical decisions. Will found himself unable to put the journal with Hannibal's neat handwriting filling page after page away.
Saturday, 21st of May,
Imagination is both a wonderful and a torturous thing. It can become an unwelcome distraction when one is unable to switch it off or ignore the visuals it produces. How ironic that Will's body tortures its host with horrendous images and hallucinations and now me as well albeit unbeknownst to the culprit and with nothing that could be considered anywhere near the term horrendous.
The image of his perfectly shaped buttocks will not leave my mind. Worthy of a Michelangelo sculpture. Another David. It was the tasting of the forbidden fruit, no, more like the smelling of it and now being unable to return to a time where the exquisiteness of it was only the faintest of ideas.
The urge to not touch when given the chance was too strong to resist although I usually pride myself with the amount of control I possess. In that instance it abandoned me utterly. Even through the thick trousers the shape was unmistakably wonderful, better than what I had imagined up to that unforgettable moment and it begged to be explored more thoroughly.
The prospect of more chances like that, created by my own hands fill me with greedy anticipation. It remains my unwavering desire however to one day explore those sweet shapes of flesh and bone when Will is conscious.
Hannibal had been fondling him when he wasn't conscious? How many times had he laid his hands on Will after drugging him? Not only violated his mind but also his body?
Will felt the blood creeping into his cheeks and with it the realization that it wasn't anger that heated his face. Was he blushing over the fact that Hannibal had groped him? Definitely not. And Will was also not going to imagine how Hannibal's hand on his skin would feel, carefully exploring every inch. He was not going to imagine the slow motion of the hand. Hannibal would take his time; only the desire to savour everything overtrumped the mans greed. No, Will was not going to think about that. He didn't want to.
Too bad his mind had other idea. The supply of far too vivid imagination made Will want to cringe in embarrassment. Especially when warmth began to pool in his belly.
Something was seriously wrong with him.
He should feel offended and outraged at having been touched without consent. Who knew how far Hannibal had gone? Will hoped the man had had the decency to not strip him to get a better look and feel of his buttocks.
The man was obsessed with his ass! Will wondered what face Jack would make if he knew, or Alana. Stifling a dry chuckle at the image of their shocked faces, Will returned his gaze to the page. It couldn't get much worse now, could it? Not even Will's empathy could supply him with a sure answer to that. Who could predict a man that gave his butt observation journal to the subject itself? Granted, Hannibal hadn't called it that but that didn't make it any better. The man knew no shame.
Thursday, 8 st of June,
His callipygian* backside will not leave my mind. It has taken hold of my thoughts like a dragon of gold and will not let go of me. Surely his body was designed like this to be admired and worshipped. Every inch of his butt cheeks need to be explored and admired.
It is such a terrible waste that that perfection is covered by denim. Who would desire a piece of art as beautiful and desirable as the goddess of lust herself to be covered?
The desire to draw, to make imagination visible, the faint hope to reclaim control over my thoughts drives me. My hands feel as if possessed with the raw need of creating what I crave for. Providing me in whatever form with what I cannot yet have. Voicing my longing without language, giving it shape and trying to tame the flames of desire.
Will almost dropped the journal when he turned the page and was confronted with a drawing of him. To be more precise of his backview. With the attention focused on his buttocks.
Swallowing, Will inspected the drawing more closely.
Hannibal sure knew how to draw. The sketch was beautiful. It was exposing and at the same time tastefully avoiding a too exposing view. It left a desire to be able to see the rest of the person portrait and at the same time not. It would ruin the graceful line of the body, the alluring and tempting pose. It made Will wonder whether or not the actual thing could live up to Hannibal's imagination. Would Hannibal feel that his level of devotion had been unwarranted after all?
The realization of what he was thinking about made Will freeze whilst simultaneously urging him to smack his head against something. Hard. If he had any common sense left, he should burn this journal right this instant and very quickly leave this house. If he had any common sense left he wouldn't wonder whether or not Hannibal would find his ass as attractive as the man imagined it to be.
Will should leave and find a proper therapist and talk about his reactions to being confronted with mind-blowing truths. There were quite a few worrisome reactions. Feeling strangely pleased by Hannibal obsessing over his backside being the least of his problems.
Notes:
I'm crossposting my works here from ao3, sadly I can't embed the butt sketch I used in here, if you want to see the version with sketch *thanks Michelangelo for lending me your work* go over to /works/7177400
callipygian* having beautifully shaped buttocks
The poem at the beginning is a Haiku I did