#tehluv

[remypost]

tehluv replied to your post: “tehluv replied to your post: i want french fries ok Burger King or...”:

aw man KFC potato wedge you know your shit can we just elope

first we gotta have  romantic dinner of kfc and potato wedges

[remypost]

tehluv replied to your post: i want french fries

ok Burger King or Mac Donald’s ?

mm maybe burger king but also like kfc potat wedges or even like oreda baked shit i just want a potat in my body and french fries seem the most efficent way to do it

[tickatocka]

Hannibal | Unsleeping | Hannibal/Will

Entirely caused by this fanart.

— — — — — — — —

He tells Will to shower, that he'll order room service and stay however long Will would like him to stay. Will nods, breathless and trembling, and shuffles to the bathroom, peeling off his sweat-dampened shirt. Hannibal strips the bed and remakes it with fresh sheets from the cabinet, and is reaching for the phone to order food (for Will; he wouldn't deign to eat room service himself) when Hannibal hears the bathroom door open. The noise surprises him -- the water's been running for a few minutes now -- and Will leans out of the door, a towel around his waist, his eyes wide and fearful.

He takes a breath and starts with "Hannibal--" but that's all that needs to be said before Hannibal is nodding, rising to his feet. He follows Will into the bathroom without a sound and closes the door behind them.

They've done this before -- only once, and never brought it up again. It wasn't simple the first time, and it's not simple now; but Hannibal strips carefully, folding his clothes on the countertop, while Will watches him with relief and gratitude apparent in his expression. Hannibal says nothing as he gently takes the towel from around Will's waist and folds that, too, before he hangs it on the bar beside the shower.

He adjusts the water temperature, turning it up until it's almost too hot to bear, and then steps in, offering a hand to Will, which Will takes. It’s silent except for the hush of water against skin; irregular shudders still grip Will every few seconds, but he fights them, teeth clenched. He holds one arm across his chest, his right hand resting on his left bicep, and keeps his eyes low and to the side, not looking at anything in particular, least of all Hannibal, or Hannibal's face -- at least, not until Hannibal lifts his hand to Will's neck. His palm rests warm and firm against Will's clavicle, his thumb dragging across the soft indent at the base of Will's throat, pushing in just enough to make Will's breath hitch.

Hannibal's other hand rises to Will's jaw, and then slides back through his wet hair, fingers tightening into the curls; he pulls slightly, and Will's head tilts obediently back, his eyes closing, his lips parting with an audible intake of breath.

Hannibal stares, completely still for a long moment. He watches a water droplet run down Will's face, around the deep-set ridge of his eye and down over his sharp cheekbone, past his jaw, sliding over the pale, fragile, exposed column of his throat, and then over Hannibal's own fingers.

The bony apple of Will's neck bobs when he swallows, the movement of it bringing Hannibal out of his trance; he leans down to kiss Will's neck, gently at first, then with teeth, biting sharp marks into Will's skin before soothing them, laving at them with his tongue. Will makes a soft sound in his chest, somewhere between a moan and a whine. Hannibal steps into his space, pressing himself against Will, and bites him again, harder this time, nearly drawing blood before he sucks at the skin, drawing color to it. He feels Will's cock twitch against his hip; a moment later, Will makes another noise, a low groan from deep in his chest, and his hands are on Hannibal's face, pressing his lips against Hannibal's with hard, desperate, open-mouthed kisses, nearly pushing Hannibal off-balance with the force of them. Hannibal pushes back, teeth dragging over Will's lower lip, digging in too hard, as his hand slides from Will's hair, running his nails over Will's shoulder and down to his nipple, first brushing a thumb over it, then trapping it between his thumb and index finger. He pinches Will, hard, dragging a moan out of him; Hannibal swallows it with another kiss.

"I have no problem with noise, Will," Hannibal says into Will's mouth, sliding his hand lower still, over his hip, "but I cannot speak for Jack."

Will pulls abruptly back, eyes startled, wide, slate blue-gray in the bathroom light. He stares at Hannibal for a long few seconds, who simply tilts his head to the side and stares back evenly; then, Will's neck muscles twitch and he gulps, turning away from Hannibal, closing his eyes and leaning into the shower spray.

Hannibal feels himself smiling; he leans to kiss Will's shoulder, lingering there, circling his tongue over the same spot, alternating with tame, gentle bites. Will doesn't shrug him away, nor does he flinch when Hannibal's hands trace up Will's sides.

It's only when Hannibal's left hand shifts too low, his fingertips scraping at Will's hipbone, that Will moves. His fingers dig into Hannibal's wrist, trembling still, although for an entirely different reason now; Hannibal thinks for half a second that Will is stopping him, stopping this -- but then Will steps backwards, out from under the spray, pressing his back flush to Hannibal's chest. Hannibal pins him there with his other arm, his hips rocking forward, his cock hard against Will's ass. Will's fingers twitch around Hannibal's wrist; he inhales sharply when Hannibal's teeth drag against the edge of his ear, and lets out an equally harsh breath when Hannibal's hand slides the last of the distance between Will's hip and Will's cock, and tightens around the base of it.

"Shhh," Hannibal whispers, lips against Will's ear, fist sliding to the head of Will's cock.

He whimpers from the touch, and clenches his teeth to keep back a noise when Hannibal's fingers pull smoothly over sensitive skin, the soft pad of his thumb circling his slit, an unsteady, teasing rhythm, desire coiling tight and low in Will's belly. His hand moves to cover Hannibal's, fingers nearly interlaced as he guides, teaches, strokes himself with it. Hannibal's need is restrained, as always, but still apparent; his hips press forward, gentle, slow, patient, but the head of his cock rests at the small of Will's back, the length of him sliding between the globes of Will's ass.

Will's heartbeat pounds in his chest, loud and fast, but he can hear Hannibal's breath coming ragged against his ear -- and it strikes him suddenly that this is Hannibal, this is the reserved Dr. Lecter, naked and breathless and needy against him, naked and breathless and needy for him -- and the idea fills his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Hannibal's fingers tighten suddenly just below the head of Will's cock, and before Will can stop it, a "Fu-uck--" tears out of his chest, his back arching, his head tossing back against Hannibal's shoulder. The sound echoes in the small space, as does the subsequent slap of Hannibal's right palm over Will's mouth.

"Will, please," Hannibal breathes, slowing his hand.

Will whines, his hips snapping forward, and fuck, he's close, if Hannibal would just--

"I'm sure we both prefer that Jack not get involved."

"Fuck Jack," Will tries to say, but the hand is still firmly over his mouth, and, moreover, Hannibal's other hand releases Will entirely, tracing up over his ribcage instead.

When Will whines in garbled protest, Hannibal twists at one of his nipples again. "Shhh," he murmurs, and steps slightly back, sliding his hand down Will's back, between his legs. His fingertips brush against the rim of Will's ass a moment later; Will swallows, moaning into Hannibal's palm, and shifts his legs apart, grinding back, dizzy with need.

"Hannibal," he pleads, and even with the hand over his mouth, the name is comprehensible. "Hannibal--"

A fingertip pushes against him, into him, tight but not painful, and the world blurs as desire jolts up Will's spine, makes his cock jerk. He begs for more, although what comes out of his mouth aren't words; Hannibal understands him anyway, kissing him on the side of the neck as he adds another finger, an edge of pain sharpening the sensation.

Hannibal's fingers work into him, twisting, torturously slow, only barely skimming over his prostate; the way his teeth dig into the side of Will's neck, hard but not hard enough, only increases the agony. He's glad for the hand over his mouth, now that every small touch against his skin is a pinprick of heat that ripples and spreads, and every move Hannibal makes draws a low sound from within him.

Will gets lost for a moment -- or maybe an hour, or a week, he can't tell -- in a way that he hadn't the first time. Then, it had been a primal, driving sort of urge; this time, it's pure pleasure, stripped down and made meticulously into art. It's Hannibal taking the same care he always had with food -- choosing, preparing, designing, laying it out -- all for that singular moment at the finish. It's Hannibal playing him the same way he would an instrument, winding Will tight until he could so much as breathe against the back of Will's neck and all the nerves in Will's body would quiver, resonate, elicit heady moans as Will's eyelids flutter shut. 

Hannibal's hand slips away from his mouth to touch Will's cock, waking him from the fog of arousal and pulling him straight to the edge. Hannibal's fingers tighten around him as his teeth bite into the back of Will's neck, his other hand pushing farther into him, the sudden rush of sensation almost painful now.

"Fuck," Will gasps, and Hannibal doesn't reprimand him, both too intoxicated anymore to care. He says Hannibal's name, repeats it, bracing himself with his hands on the walls as he fucks himself forward into Hannibal's fist, backward onto his fingers, alternating. "Hannibal," he manages another time, the only word he can remember now; "Hannibal--"

The coiling heat tightens too far, snaps violently, jolts Will into pieces. His hips snap forward, erratic, a shout tearing jagged past his lips, echoing in his ears. He feels Hannibal's fingers inside of him, forceful now, thrusting and working deeper even as Will's muscles spasm and clamp around him. He loses himself entirely this time, unravels in Hannibal's hands, shaking, shuddering, nerve ends stripped and frayed flooding his whole system with the aftershocks of pleasure. His head is resting weakly back against Hannibal's shoulder by the time he returns to his body, Hannibal's hand stroking out the last streaks of cum from his cock as Will's hips writhe with the dulled pain-pleasure of orgasm.

Hannibal shifts behind Will, his right hand dragging fingernails over Will's hips and up to Will's neck, where it settles lightly around his soft throat. Will tries to breathe, lightheaded and exhausted; he moans when Hannibal gingerly pulls his fingers from inside Will, the loss of them apparent, his hips rocking back on instinct.

Will's heart slows, finally; he swallows and lets out a breath, turning toward Hannibal on unsteady legs. The doctor's eyes are dark, dilated; his lips hang slightly apart, his breath coming shallow and short through his teeth.

Will reaches for him, kisses him and turns him at the same time, pressing him against the wall of the shower. One hand fists in Hannibal's hair, the other doing the same around his cock, and suddenly Will becomes acutely aware of the low, gravelly, near-inaudible sounds coming from Hannibal's chest, slipping out against Will's lips as he kisses him, fierce and urgent.

Hannibal's breath hitches high in his lungs, already close; Will sinks his teeth into Hannibal's neck while he strokes him, the bite deep enough for the coppery taste of blood to hit his tongue, and suddenly Hannibal stiffens and shudders against him, cum striping across Will's stomach. He grabs Will roughly by the throat and kisses him, his tongue shoving deep into his mouth to taste the blood as his hips still fuck into Will's hand. Will winces when Hannibal catches Will's tongue between his teeth, hard, sending a jolt of pain to his spine and a jolt of renewed arousal to his cock, before his mouth softens and he presses a sweeter kiss against Will's lips.

They stay under the spray of the shower for a long time afterward, Will's face in Hannibal's hands, his eyes closed, letting Hannibal run his fingers over the jut of his cheekbones and the ridge of his eyes, the soft line of his lower lip, the angles of his jaw. Will feels himself falling asleep, a merging of the shower's warmth and the safety that Hannibal's presence provides. Hannibal notices, of course; he turns off the spray and leads Will out of the shower, toweling them both off before taking Will's hand and pulling him fondly to the bed.

"Sleep," he says, and turns off the lights before he neatly settles next to Will under the blankets. "No more nightmares will come tonight."

Will falls asleep easily for once in his life, feeling spent and well-guarded. And Hannibal is right, as always -- Will doesn't dream at all.

[azreto]

i just wanna run my hand through those sexy ass curls mmhh son come give daddy a hug

DAD THIS IS EMBARRASSING OMG