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Summary
Hannibal grabs him by the waist and pulls him back down, slides a hand between his legs.
“That’s against the rules,” Will protests, but the protest is anemic. He can barely summon a single no before letting his head fall back.
“I know,” Hannibal soothes, kissing his hair. “But one massage is forgivable. You've had such a hard day.”
“Stop,” he sighs. “Stop it, Hannibal.” Will spreads his legs wider. Hannibal doesn’t stop.
Their murders are getting messy, so Will withholds sex. Things get weird.
