| It was a warm
night. They were going to a concert and then on to
dinner. But Will had arrived early and as he waited
for Hannibal to
get ready, he�d made himself comfortable in the lounge,
kicking off his
shoes and settling down on the sofa with his latest case
files from Jack
Crawford�s desk. There was soft music playing in the background, a piano against haunting bass and touched with a woman�s soulful voice. Hannibal, it seemed, was in no hurry. He was almost dressed but his feet were still bare. Padding into the lounge with a half-full glass of wine, he paused for a moment to listen to the words. I may be mad I may be blind I may be viciously unkind But I can still read what you're thinking Glancing at Will, he smiled to himself. �Dance with me.� Will looked up. �What?� �Dance with me. Come on.� Hannibal turned, put down his wineglass onto the coffee table and reached out to the man on the sofa. �Dance with you?� �Yes!� Lecter rolled his eyes with affectionate patience. With an expressive shrug, Will dumped his files down onto the leather next to him and pressed his hand into the strong one extended to him. Pulling Will to his feet, keeping hold of his hand, Hannibal slid one arm under the dark, expensive jacket, to glide around his friend�s slim waist. He kept his touch loose but intimate as he touched cotton-covered skin at Will�s waist. He�d expected resistance, but all he got was a small smile and a little shake of the dark blond head before Will wrapped his arm under Hannibal�s, resting his hand on the silk-clothed shoulder. Taking a half-step forward, Hannibal drew the other man close. �Relax.� Whispering softly, he moved them only gently to the music, barely shifting his feet. His touch to Will�s waist became a little firmer and he smiled when Will settled his head between Hannibal�s neck and shoulder. This was what he�d wanted from the first moment, however dangerous it might be. Closing his eyes for a moment, Hannibal touched his lips to Will�s hair then he turned and rested his cheek there. Hand trapped between the perfect warmth of Will�s body and the light material of his jacket, he spread his fingers over the small of his partner�s back. But as they moved, Lecter imagined another dance. Darker. Much, much darker. The same room, different music. A different night. Stepping up behind Will, Lecter reaches around to cup his lover�s genitals through the loose, soft linen of his pants and holds him in place. In his other hand he nurses an open switchblade. The handle is nestled in his palm, the blade held between his fore and index finger. He means to use it. He means to cut. Slowly he lifts his hand to the base of Will�s throat and touches the wicked blade to the delicate skin there. Will tenses, scared, aware. Lecter slowly works the linen between his fingers until Will�s treacherous cock starts to harden. The man shudders against him. �Ummm�.� Lecter hums appreciatively, the firm ass rubbing against his groin. Will instinctively draws breath. He didn�t meant to arouse his lover, now his killer. But he always does. Moving in rhythm to the music surrounding them Lecter strokes the knife down Will�s shirt, slicing at the cotton behind the buttons, dropping them one by one to the floor. Despite the warmth, Will shivers. Smiling, turning his hand, Lecter presses his lips into the hollow of Will�s shoulder and draws the tip of the blade down the centre of the pale chest, across to touch the cold tip to each nipple � left then right - to the waistband of his pants. He sways them gently, back and forth, an obscene parody of a dance of sorts, and slices through the linen just to the right of the fly. Will almost begins to fight, but Lecter fondles him again, still through the material, holding his pants in place. The linen is hardly a barrier between them and Will feels every touch, every squeeze. He�s hard in Lecter�s playful fingers. Lecter hooks the elastic waistband of Will�s underwear under his thumb and pulls the briefs down slightly. He moves his hand inside the layers of clothing, trailing the blade along the sensitive skin of the unwilling erection. Lecter�s mouth opens in anticipation and he bares his teeth, lips curled back. Slowly, he folds the knife in his hand, closing it up. As he slides his arm around between them, his fingers brush over Will�s ass. He leans in and bites very gently at the throat exposed to him. With consummate skill he presses between Will�s buttocks and nudges the tight ring of his anus with a questing knuckle. Will stiffens in his embrace, starts to speak, to beg. But the sounds are what Lecter wants. With a turn of his wrist, he thrusts the folded switchblade up into Will�s rectum. The handle is brutally thick, the silver decoration mercilessly cruel. Will�s scream blends with the music and Lecter hums softly. Smiling, he holds them like that, lost in the pleasure of the other man�s suffering. Until his victim�s struggles become violent. Then he begins the torturous fuck in earnest. And the louder Will screams, the harder Lecter bites into the tender flesh at his throat. When he feels blood begin to run from the torn ass, over his fingers, he curls back his lips and starts to eat. Will�s in shock now. All he can feel is the pain. His screams have died and there�s only the music. The game is at an end. Signing with disappointment, Lecter pulls the switchblade from his lover and with a flick of his wrist, opens out the blade. The music faded. Lifting his head slowly, Will looked quizzically at the man who�d so recently become his friend. And he smiled. Maroon eyes dancing, Hannibal closed the space between them and kissed Will for the first time. He was delighted when the gentle touch was returned. The game began. |