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Arousal guts him, like it always does, at what he sees.
His cock isn’t visible anymore — only the obscene pooling of transparent ooze that fills the slit at the top of Will’s hand, spilling over the ridges of Will’s knuckles when his fingers massage Hannibal’s cock with firm, noisy flexes.
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“Just… Need the bathroom, sir.”
The same blush from his cheeks rushes down to his neck. Mortification sets in when Professor Graham simply smiles — a crooked, devious thing that warms Hannibal’s chest and spreads tingles through his cunt. The corner of the ruler digs in a little harder at the soft underbelly of Hannibal’s jaw, sending sparks of heat up over his face and all across his scalp.
“You should have gone earlier, then. You know better than to disrupt my class. Don’t you?”
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this is a thread exploiting my one braincell that is purely dedicated to the thought of: peggy bundy coded nigel
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Will’s lips go lopsided. “You indulging me then, doll?"
“Don’t I always?” Hannibal asks, blasé while pinching Will’s engorged cockhead with his toes. Will cries out through gritted teeth, his hips stuttering into and away from the sharp sensation that just oozes more pearlescent slick through the thin boxers to taint Hannibal’s skin.
“Not recently."
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“Do a little spin for me,” he says, whiskey smooth, like he’s smiling. Like this is normal. Perhaps it is. You still feel weird, and the alcohol in your system doesn’t help things, but you’re not familiar with the protocol. You’ve never gotten into trouble like this before, so you try to let go of the lingering suspicion with a shrug of your shoulders and a deep inhale.
The phantom wrongness lingers, but you have to trust him — there’s no other choice.
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You've spent the night drinking with your friends, but you get pulled over by Detective Bronson on the way home. What will you do to avoid jail time?
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Hannibal remembers the pallor of Will's sweaty, pale face then. A lacquering of sickly hues in green, lilac, and rose. Will looked like a watercolor painting; a perfect fit for the frame of Hannibal's surgical hands. He remembers also, with a chill of want scraping down his spine, the lopsided and indulgent curl of Will's trembling, chapped lips. The way he tilted his head and drawled with a disturbing amount of confidence, "Not like you to ruin the meat. If you want me inside you so bad, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart."
Twitter thread drabble written in 3 hours inspired by art created by Luka (slasherstash).
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“It would please me to have you like this, Will,” Hannibal adds with a considering tilt of his head. “And after, you get what you want. Just like I promised.”
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“Wet,” Will exhaled sharply, pressing his face into Hannibal’s belly so that he could mouth at the glistening skin. Hannibal's insides undulated beneath Will’s lips from both an involuntary moan and the burning pleasure climbing his body when Will plunged a little deeper. Will’s fingertips longed to kiss the end of Hannibal’s cavity that squeezed in encouragement. “For me."