// Y’know Commonly An Art Show Is Depicted On Screen As This Fancy Thing With Champagne Flutes And

Lomographa Temerata - Pistetuomimittari, male above

Will doesn’t even blink, snatching the paper out of Hannibal’s hand.  “You say so, doctor.”

“She’s a friend with a shared interest.”  Hell if he’s going to let Hannibal send this to shit on him.  “She’s off-limits, Hannibal.”

"Who the fuck is Susan?"

“First of all: where in the hell is this coming from?  Second of all: she’s a friend.”

Once Hannibal was close enough, Will reached out slipped his finger behind the knot of his friend's tie. With a tug, he said: "Get this shit off you."

“Could be.  C'mere.”

Yes, Hannibal.  Look, you know I prefer to leave the past exactly where it is: the past.

[runsonfear]: Leave him out of this

you mean hannibal? 

Will outright grinned.  There is a certain flavor of satisfaction that comes from being the first to do anything for someone.  Having this would be another link in the gold chain of his mind, tying together the various impressions he had of the man in front of him.

“I think you will,” he said, fingers working to unclasp the belt and slip it out from its loops.  “And I’ll start slow.  Make it last as long as it needs to.”  The leather was tough and smooth in his palm.  Folding it once, he gave one soft smack of it against his palm.  He folded it one more time and did it again, this time satisfied with the sharp, tight sound he got.

Standing up to full height again, he unzipped Hannibal’s pants and slipped his fingers down to palm the hard girth there.  He wanted to feel it before he saw it:

“Well, shit, Dr. Lecter,” he murmured, “not bad at all.”

He continued to stroke, lightly, as he continued:  “I need you to pick a word.  Any word you like, but it’s got to be short and easy to remember.”  Absently, he slid the belt gently up and down Hannibal’s thigh, his back, up under his chin.  “Anytime you want me to stop, use that word.  I’ll stop no matter what, alright?”

He nipped at his new lover’s jaw while his mind whirred over a myriad of possibilities; some included the belt, the counter, the chocolate, and the hours left to them in the night.  “What’s your word, Hannibal?”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

“I’m not sure either but I assume it has something to do with American Beauty.”

// ignoring the choco-sex thread sitting like a neglected child in my drafts for daayyyyysss // [runsonfear]: "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?"

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean…” 

Who told u

Head cannon that Will is a secret Backstreet Boys fan.

He also unironically listens to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up

Wow.

Which head or yours is doing the thinking right now?  The big one or the little one?

Try again.