Wax Poetical About Art, And Will Would Usually Sink Beneath The Surface Of An Inward Stream To Drown

No.  It doesn't surprise me.

What surprises me is how persistently you're trying to get me into bed with you.  Not that I'm not flattered.

We’re very similar in the way we think and act. I feel a certain passionate draw to you, it feels even seductive at times; I know you feel that as well, being the empath you are. Of course, you aren’t bad looking either.

This seems to surprise you?

Will allowed Hannibal to do this; let his hand be guided down and to the undoing of that top button.  He pressed his nail into the skin, feeling the dusting of chest hair there catch as he scratched his way down.  He let himself be guided back to the bowl, hands braced against Hannibal’s shoulders for balance.

“Then I’ll give you me.”  Will said, and felt the warmth of chocolate and Hannibal’s lips against his own.  He licked around and in Hannibal’s mouth, scraping his teeth against lips and tongue.  He brought a hand up to cup Hannibal’s neck and adjust the angle; he wanted to taste as much of this man as possible.  With his free hand, he undid the rest of the shirt buttons and ran his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair, sometimes scratching down to feel that rhythmic catching of hair against nails.

Pulling away, breathing a bit labored, Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  His fingers lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal some of his skin.  He paused and his mouth twitched into a smirk:

“What’s the magic word?”

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

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

[text]: Oh my God.

[text]: That was six.

[text]: What did you do?  Drink half your stores of fifty year old wines by yourself?

// i s2g this website is shit for sending asks and if i've just sent this to you multiple times i am so sorry // [runsonfear]: ⁇

“⁇” for a drunk text.

[text] Willl

[text] Wil

[text] Wiilll

[text] Willlllll

[text] It is impo ssible to count how many ls are in your name if i accidentally use more than 2

[text] Willllll

[text] How many wasa that?

[text] we don’t know.

WikiFur doesn’t have a name on file so I guess they’re just called bug-furries (or exoskellie, a proposed name from this tumblr user over here) are u suggesting something

What’s the insect species equivalent to the term “furry”??

stop having casual sex with men

“Any particular theme to these thoughts on me, in general?  That’s quite a look on your face.”

“You in general, yes.”

Will watches the flex and roll of Hannibal’s muscles for a few moments; the suggestion beneath his shirt, the tightening sinews of his arms.  He removes his own jacket, folding it over one of the kitchen stools.  Instead of rolling up his sleeves, he undoes the buttons of his shirt and discards it the same way; he stretches his arms, now feeling a little freer in just his undershirt.

“You think this’ll be enough, then?”  He stirs the chocolate with a wooden spoon, turning it over to keep the temperature even.  It occurs to him that, at a previous time and place in their lives, Will might have had an issue with Hannibal having an entire bowl of chocolate ready for this.  It also occurs to him that he is no longer the Will that would have that issue.

He dips his finger into the chocolate, about up to the second joint, covering it in thick syrup.  He walks over and brings the chocolate up to Hannibal’s lips.  “Tell me how it is.”

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

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

He watched the tie flutter and swirl down to the floor and he smiled.  Tit for tat, the old black magic.  It’s a game he knew well.  He spread his arms, palms out and inviting.

“Take it off for me.”  Be polite, though, “Please.”

Shit? Hannibal almost commented, but decided better of it. In very fluid movements he took off his tie and discarded it to the floor.

“Quid pro quo.” He said nearly in a whisper as he eyed Will’s shirt.

"You got me there. It's hard not to enjoy this. What were you doing getting your ass beat with a metal bar by a man named Brad?"

-whistles- “Yeah, that is pretty bad. Christ, who did that number on you?”