what a dangerous thing it was, to be taken so fully inside the maw of a cannibal. his teeth had ripped through flesh thicker than this, yet as he pulls garret’s cock inside his mouth once more, it’s with the utmost devotion. hannibal takes the shrike like communion, placing the head of his prick along the flat of his warm tongue, holding it inside, willing it to dissolve like wafer, willing him to push in further so that he could digest him and honor him in the only way he would understand.
instead, hannibal teases him with the slightest suction, easing him in further. the ring of his mouth is loose with intention: he had no plan to finish him here, on the toilet, but as he finds garret’s cock growing bulbous and heavy, he almost wishes to. his taste was of everything hannibal had grown to enjoy, heavy with sweat and salt, the smell of his arousal a balm to his coiled nerves.
hannibal slips garret’s slacks to the floor, raking his finger nails up the back of his downy soft thighs, until they reach his ass. only then does hannibal pull himself off of his cock, breathless. ❝ you took the words right out of my mouth. ❞ hannibal’s maroon eyes blink slowly, travelling up to meet garret jacob’s gaze with a heady look of his own.
the hand on hannibal’s crown prompts him to return with fervor, taking him by the arse and spreading the flesh, digging his fingers into the meat; his mouth comes to rest along his shaft, licking a long, tender stripe up to the frenulum.
hannibal takes great pride in the use of his tongue, inside the bedroom & out: he thinks of the years he was without words, idly, and wants to tell his little lover just how lucky he is to behold the man he is today - how grateful he should be to witness the amalgamation of his years and the hard work that had gone into the subset of his ability.
his tongue explores until he finds the slit of his cock, tonguing the beading arousal, prodding the sensitive head.
only when he finds garret becoming torturously hard does hannibal make the decision to push him back with a gentle hand, cleaving a foot of space between them.
hannibal looks at his cock, smiles, and gently places a hand at garret’s hip.
garret enjoys this. so much so that he finally let's slip a soft moan of pleasure, his head tilting back and eyes closing. the touching and kissing and massaging of his body was almost enough to make him finish right then and there. the post-high of a kill still saturated his brain.
but then hannibal stops and urges him away.
naturally he makes a noise of disappointment, yet the loss of the warmth on his length making him somehow harder. hannibal was good with his mouth ― surprisingly so sometimes. this wasn't a regular occurrence after all; more often than not it felt as though it were a treat of sorts for being good or obedient or, in this case, a weapon.
oh. right. the bath. garret glances over at it and frowns ever so slightly. it's hot, he knows it. the steam coming off the water already left a sheen of sweat on his body and the mirrors were fogged up. he steps out of the clothing pooled at his feet and kicks the garments to the side. gazing at the light above him, he takes note of the steam tendrils dancing in front of it.
he puts one foot in and grimaces. then the other. he wants to move slow but he isn't sure how that would translate to the doctor so he sucks in a breath and lowers himself down. the water burns and he can almost feel his skin turning red though it seems to have no impact on the erection he maintained. rather, it makes an impact on the sore muscles he forgot he sheltered under damaged skin.
with his arms on the ledge of the tub, garret leans back and the undampened hair on his body raises at the cold sensation of the tub that was not yet touched by scorching water. he's only a bit uncomfortable but he knows he'll get used to it. hell, he may want it hotter.
leaning his head against the back of the tub, ❛ almost wish i could get used to this. ❜
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