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Will is messy.

Hannibal adores that about him.

He smiles, admiring his boy, the sheen of sweat on his exposed body, bound to a chair. He'd been silent, watching Hannibal as Hannibal tied the ropes around his wrists and ankles, so he can't kick out and can't fight his way free. There are red marks forming under the ropes from the testing pulls, and then more frantic writhing as Hannibal had put the finishing touches on him.

"Hush, darling," he purrs, smiling up at Will from where he is on his knees, working Will open with two slick fingers. Will groans, head tilted back, exposing his throat as he swallows, chest heaving as he tries to keep his breathing even. Hannibal curls his fingers, knuckles tight against Will's greedy rim, stretching him out and putting merciless pressure on his prostate.

Will whimpers, cock twitching and leaking on his stomach. "Such a messy boy," Hannibal says, tutting as Will makes another weak, desperate sound, thighs tense and toes curled up against the floor, trying to push himself down onto Hannibal's fingers. Will is greedy, so greedy; he likes it hard and fast and deep.

Hannibal has no intention of giving him what he wants tonight.

The latex gloves he's wearing help with the glide. Will has tears in his eyes, baring his teeth at the lack of intimacy, from Hannibal's still-perfect hair to the plastic suit he's wearing. As though he's going hunting.

No, there is a sweeter thing for him to devour tonight, that crawled so willingly into his lap and begged for Hannibal to use him.

Hannibal rises, pulling his fingers out, and takes the plug from his table of tools beside him, too high for Will to see. He pulls off his glove and slides his fingers into Will's mouth, smiling as Will bites down past his knuckles, sucking on them no matter how deep Hannibal pushes them. He relishes the clench of Will's throat around his fingertips, how Will's eyes shine with tears.

And widen, when Hannibal inserts the plug into him, snug in his greedy ass. "There we go," he murmurs, as Will swallows, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth because his slack jaw can't hold the seal around Hannibal's fingers. Hannibal pulls them out, tutting, and wipes them on Will's cheek. "Such a messy boy."

Will's cheeks flush with shame, rosebud red that Hannibal wants to sink his teeth into. He doesn't deny himself the urge, gripping Will's chin and biting along his cheekbone. Will winces, and shivers, knuckles going white.

Hannibal licks the tears and sweat from his cheek, and straightens, considering his plaything. Will stares up at him, panting now, the flush spreading down his chest.

Hannibal turns away, and picks up the next toy. A sound, long and thin and shining in the low light. Will doesn't say anything when he sees it, but his red cock twitches in anticipation. Hannibal smiles at him, and kneels again, adding a small extra drop of lubricant to the tip.

He leans in and licks up Will's shaft, forgoing the sensitive and leaking head. He takes it in his uncovered hand, sound in the gloved one, and carefully angles the tip to the slit of Will's cock. "Breathe in for me," he whispers. Will obeys, and moans loud and long as Hannibal gently pushes the sound into him, all the way down until he meets resistance he knows he shouldn't push through. A fresh wave of sweat has broken out on Will and he's trembling, trying his best to stay still but helplessly rocking down onto the plug, desperate for stimulation.

Hannibal sighs, so pleased with how Will took it this time. The first time they did this, he sobbed and begged for Hannibal to stop, even before Hannibal managed to turn the vibrations on. But he's so much better now.

"Good boy," he purrs, kissing Will's shaft, too lightly to be of any relief. Will moans again, head rolling back on the edge of the chair. His wrists twists in the ropes, fingers flexing and curling around the edges of the armrest. "You're doing so well, darling. I know."

He stands, and pulls off the last glove. Will's eyes widen, breathing hitching in anticipation.

When Hannibal takes up the magic wand, pulling the cord to him so he has all the slack he needs, more tears start to fall. Hannibal smiles at him and steps between his knees, nudging them as wide as the chair will allow.

He leans down and kisses Will's forehead, breathing in the scent of him; sweat and lust and such need, he stinks with it. Hannibal's precious, dirty little creature.

"I want you to tell me when you're close," he commands. Will nods, gasping, face turned up in a desperate search for more affection. "You'll do that for me, won't you?" Will nods again, and Hannibal's lips pull down at the corners.

He hums, and slaps Will, more sting than power, across the cheek he bit. "Use your words," he snaps.

Will gasps, and swallows, and nods again. He flinches when Hannibal's hand rises for a second hit. "I'll tell you," he manages to say, breathing the words. "I'll be good, I swear."

Hannibal smiles. "Good boy."

He turns the wand on, and presses the large head to the base of the plug, first. Will's reaction is immediate. His body arches and he cries out in sweet agony, dribbling pathetically around the tip of the sound. Hannibal wraps his fingers around Will's cock, so gently stroking him, ring of his fingers far too light. Will sobs, gasping for air, rutting down onto the plug as Hannibal makes it vibrate against his prostate and tease his sensitive rim.

"Oh, God," Will gasps. "Fuck, Hannibal, please, please -."

"Please, please," Hannibal echoes, mocking. "You're so greedy, my darling boy. So impatient." Will sobs, every inch of him flushed and shaking. Hannibal pushes the head of the wand harder against Will, and then up, stimulating his perineum as well as the base of the plug so that Will gets it from both sides. Will lets out a ragged noise, breath hitching.

Hannibal knows Will's tells better than anyone. How his lashes flutter and his mouth goes slack. How his stomach tenses up and his cock darkens another shade.

He tuts, and pulls the wand away. At Will's plaintive cry, he wraps his fingers in Will's hair and jerks him back. "You get what I give you," he growls, pulling Will's hair until he winces. "If you can't take that, I'll find some other pretty thing to entertain me."

He won't, and Will knows he won't, but when he's bound and helpless the threat sounds like a promise. Will's eyes widen in horror, and he shakes his head, wincing when his hair is pulled even tighter by the motion. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I'll be good."

"I know you're trying, darling," Hannibal purrs, soothing the ache in his scalp. He cups Will's chin and kisses his forehead again and Will whimpers, and then seizes up as Hannibal puts the wand to the very tip of the sound. He pitches forward and Hannibal lets him, watches with pleasure as Will writhes and screams behind gritted teeth, his hands and feet jerking at the ropes until the chair creaks in warning.

"Sit back," Hannibal says, a hand on Will's throat shoving him against the chair. He tightens his grip as Will continues to arch up as best he can, desperate and uncoordinated. Like a needy little animal. God, Hannibal adores him when Will looks at him like that; like he'd do anything Hannibal wanted if it would make him smile.

Hannibal does smile, and takes the wand away again, and Will sobs.

The final phase sits in an innocuous cup on the little table. Hannibal turns the wand off and sets it beside the cup, and reaches in, pulling a half-melted ice cube into his palm, out of sight of Will. He approaches Will again, and kneels down.

"You're doing so well," he praises quietly. Will stares at him, wary and trembling, and then every muscle in him tightens as Hannibal wraps his cold fingers around the head of Will's cock, forcing the ice cube against the sound so that it drips over Will, and into Will.

"Fuck," Will cries, head tilting back again. Hannibal growls, and bites savagely at Will's pale, trembling thigh, making him whimper and flinch again. He latches on and tugs at the flesh between his teeth until Will learns, and goes still. He strokes the ice cube up and down Will's cock until he feels it wilt slightly, only held up because of the rod of metal inside it.

"Oh dear," he murmurs, when he sees the mess. "That won't do. You should have better control over yourself by now."

Will stares at him with watery eyes, which close when Hannibal feeds him another ice cube, petting his teeth so that he can't chew it, merely has to let it melt in his sweet mouth and let it trickle down his throat. Will arches and cries out again, biting down, when Hannibal puts the wand back on the plug. His entire lower body clenches, as though trying to suck it in further. Desperate, greedy little thing.

He takes Will's cock with his cool fingers and runs the wand up and down, to the very tip of the sound, down to the plug. Will's hips twitch and rut along with the motions, Will's eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he starts to finally surrender to Hannibal, to become a mess of nerve endings Hannibal can exploit at his leisure.

"Look at you," Hannibal murmurs, drawing Will's unfocused gaze. "So desperate, aren't you? Already, and we've barely gotten started." He smiles, not kind, but somewhat fond, as Will swallows. "You remember the rules, don't you, darling? You must tell me when you're close."

"I do," Will gasps. "I am," he adds a second later, eyes tightening at the corners.

"Good boy," Hannibal says, and draws the wand away again.

"Hannibal, please," Will cries, lunging forward like he might be able to get out of the chair and take what he wants. Hannibal knows what he wants, and what he needs, and those two things are rarely the same for his dichotomous Will Graham.

"Please," Hannibal echoes in a mocking tone. Will flinches like it was a blow. "You should know better. But you can't help yourself, can you? You're just a creature of base instinct, my love, wanting to sweat and rut all over yourself." He gestures to the mess already on Will's stomach, to the shine of lubricant on his thighs, to the sweat and tears and saliva on Will's face. "You'd get me all messy too if given half the chance."

Will's cheeks are red with shame, his cock almost purple now with stimulation and need.

Hannibal hums, and takes the tip of the sound between his fingers, pulling it out halfway. Will moans raggedly, knuckles white around the arms of the chair. Hannibal smiles, and puts the wand right at the head of Will's cock, and works the sound back in. Out and in again, fucking Will's cock open and making the sound vibrate every inch it's buried inside him.

"Hannibal," he breathes. "Hannibal, I'm gonna -."

Hannibal takes the wand away and Will lets out a sound like he's been stabbed. It's raw, gut-deep, punched out of him as more tears leak down his face. "Please," he gasps. "Please, whatever you want, I'll do -."

"Whatever I want, yes," Hannibal says mildly. "What makes you think this isn't exactly what I want?"

Will says nothing to that, because he knows the answer.

Hannibal works the sound back into him, as deep as it will go. He kneels down again and nuzzles the blooming bruise on Will's thigh, sinking his teeth in to make a twin right next to it. Will shudders, pressing his lips together, staring down at Hannibal with black eyes.

"I'll give you a choice, darling," Hannibal purrs, smiling up at him. "You can come, and I'll untie you and leave you here to rest and recover, or you can wait until I'm finished with you, and I'll take you upstairs and take care of you."

Will's eyes flash, shining with tears he has yet to shed. He swallows. Hannibal knows he's already so worked up, but Will must learn to be patient to get what he needs, to submit to Hannibal's design. And he's so greedy – sometimes he needs to be left alone, but this is not one of those times. Not with the way Will came to him and kissed him and begged to be touched.

His greedy boy will do anything to get a kind touch after. He's so starved for it he might as well be skin and bone.

"Please don't leave me," Will finally says, breath hitching at merely the notion.

Hannibal's smile widens, and he shows his teeth, and kisses the marks on Will's thigh. "Very well."

And so it continues like that, Hannibal using the wand and the sound and the plug to drive Will right to the edge of madness, and cooling him down with ice on his cock and in his throat. He kisses Will's forehead and mocks his pleas for relief.

"You asked for this, darling," he reminds Will. "I know you're stronger than this. Just one more, I swear."

"Liar," Will hisses, but begs for more nonetheless.

After almost two hours of torturing Will, until Will is no longer struggling, no longer making those delicious noises that nourish Hannibal more than fresh meat ever could, he turns off the wand and sets it down. Will's lashes flutter. His hair is black and limp with sweat, his stomach stained with precum up to his chest and around his hips, every inch of him red and shaking.

Hannibal takes out a knife, and cuts his arms and legs free. Will is too weak to move, and barely twitches as Hannibal removes the sound, and the plug. He does react when Hannibal slides his fingers into Will, curling them up and rubbing his prostate with slow, gentle strokes.

"Hannibal," he whispers, neck limp as a newborn when Hannibal cups his cheek.

"Come here, darling," Hannibal coaxes. He helps Will to his feet, Will collapsed halfway, knees unable to straighten, clinging to Hannibal's plastic suit with nails in his shoulders. Hannibal turns them and sits on the chair instead, pushing at the arms until they collapse to either side, and pulls Will into his lap.

He cradles Will's nape and puts Will's face against his neck, Will panting against the plastic as Will's thighs spread and his cock ruts slick against his belly. "You may finish when you're ready," Hannibal purrs to him. "If you think you can."

Will makes another wounded sound, wrapping his sore and exhausted arms around Hannibal's shoulders, holding on with his fingers around his opposite wrists. Hannibal smiles and pulls his legs up, feet tucked between Hannibal's knees so Hannibal can see the rope marks on his pale ankles. Will grinds against him just like that, an eager little animal, so slick with sweat and sore and sensitive.

Will whimpers against his neck and Hannibal sighs, rubbing his free hand up and down Will's arching spine. "Can't you come, darling?" he says, in a low voice. "After all I did to get you so close, you're not even going to finish?" He clicks his tongue and sighs when Will cries out against his neck, arms tightening.

"You should thank me," he presses. "I went through so much trouble to make you feel good and you haven't thanked me once."

Will moans, weakly. "Thank you, Hannibal," he rasps, throat hoarse from his cries. "Thank you so much. I -." His nails dig in, tighten around his own wrists, scratch on the back of Hannibal's plastic suit. Will is sobbing now, shoulders shaking as Hannibal closes his eyes and listens to his frantic, desperate cries.

Will's thighs tense, toes curling, as he shoves himself as close to Hannibal as he can. Whines; "Please hold me tighter."

Hannibal smiles. "Sweet boy." He tightens his grip on Will's nape, flattens his palm on Will's back, holding him close. Will shivers all the way down to his toes, soaking Hannibal's suit with his tears. He bites, plastic between his teeth at Hannibal's neck – because he knows better than to make a mess of Hannibal's nice clothes.

"You did so well, Will," Hannibal purrs, when Will's rutting gets a little more frantic. Will flinches like his own name is a strike to his face. Hannibal turns his head and kisses the red mark on his cheek. He slides his hand down and rubs Will's sensitive rim, not penetrating, but feeling where Will is still a little open, raw and warm. "My good boy. My sweet, darling Will."

Will goes still, his body tensing and then melting. His nails drag down Hannibal's suit, his feet uncurl from between Hannibal's knees and fall to the ground. He clings, shuddering against Hannibal as he comes. Hannibal feels merely the warmth, through the plastic, none of the mess. Will rubs himself off through the thick pool of come he leaves behind, trembling and gasping like he's sprinted a marathon.

He sags, panting. Hannibal scoops him up and stands, setting Will back on the chair, and peels off the plastic suit. He hangs it, and returns with a damp towel, washing Will clean with long, broad touches. Will shivers at each one, curled up on himself so that Hannibal has to make him extend each arm and leg, and finally lift his face so Hannibal can clean him up there, too.

He finishes with Will's stomach, and adds the towel to the laundry bin over which the suit is hanging. "Come with me, darling," he coaxes, helping Will to unsteady feet. Will clings to him like he doesn't know what's real, face buried in Hannibal's chest and breathing deeply, like his scent is soothing. Hannibal pets his sweaty hair and kisses the top of his head.

"I think a bath, and a nice long nap are in order," he says.

Will nods absently, and Hannibal tuts, and tugs on his hair. "Use your words," he reminds Will.

"That -." Will clears his throat. "Stay with me?"

"Of course," Hannibal says.

Will smiles, closing his eyes. "Okay."