Will Watches The Flex And Roll Of Hannibal’s Muscles For A Few Moments; The Suggestion Beneath His

Ten minutes. Ten friggin minutes slowly creeping over to this guy, including s l o w l y edging my way closer on my elbows and knees to get some nice close-ups. The results made me happy.

Last week was #NPRWormWeek - and I made these worm trading cards to celebrate! Each feature’s a special worm species from the week’s stories.

Check out the full stories:

Could Worms In Your Gut Cure Your Allergies?

How Worm Warriors Are Beating An Unbeatable Worm

Should We Make Room For Worms On Our Dinner Plate?

Why The World Isn’t Close To Eradicating Guinea Worm

The Power Of Worm Poop

Think you know worms? Take our wormy quiz here to test your knowledge.

(Also - on Tuesday we raced worms. On Friday we ate worms)

You know there's a difference between understanding and knowing.

I resent that. I would think by now we’ve got a fair understanding of each other.

Jesus.  Alright, how's this?: I'd like to know why you're so keen on fucking me.  Let's start there.

Alright then. What would you like to know?

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Will brings his own wine glass to his lips; an unintentional mirroring.  "What kind of tricks?  Are we talking Benihana or…?”

The wine is white and not over-sweet; a light taste to cleanse the palate and compliment the meat.  That’s the extent of Will’s knowledge on the matter, but he appreciates it all the same.

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

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

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

Try again.

You don’t.

Your standards were set when you displayed Randall as you did.

I’m not your standard, I’m your goal.

Lust burns inside you, I can hear it soaking your words.

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.”

Plate XIII.

British Butterflies. 1860.

Internet Archive

He notices his mouth has gone open: just a little breath shaped ‘o.’ Taking the wineglass he finishes it off in one gulp, hissing between his teeth when the bitter front of the wine blooms in his throat.

“Now that,” he stands, letting his eyes run over the shape and fabric of Hannibal’s suit, “does arouse my interest.”

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

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