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- Do it again, Hannibal.
Naked on the bed there is no barrier between the two of them. They offer themselves to each other constantly and, in that offering, they remember how hard it has been to get to this moment.
- What, Mylimasis?
- Touch me, right here - Will points to his heart.
Hannibal smiles and hugs the man he loves from behind. Behind them all the moments of suffering, of whispering, of touching and waiting in which Hannibal put all his patience and love.
- Like this? - he asks, his index finger on the profiler's heart.
Will nods. How to express what that touch makes him feel. How to tell Hannibal that he was the first to do it, that before him all the hugs felt empty and the kisses were nothing but dust. How to express that when he puts his arms around him he feels like he's home, and that he's built that home with the strongest foundation he's found to withstand it all.
- Yes. Do you see her, Hannibal?
Hannibal's hand resting fully on his heart, trapping every single heartbeat between his fingers for who knows when he might need it. Hannibal picks up whatever Will gives him and, also, those he doesn't directly. His mind palace is full of Will because, maybe one day, he won't be by his side.
- What do you mean?
- The light - Will raises his head and rests it on Hannibal's shoulder -. Look, it pierces the ceiling, surely it reaches Heaven.
Hannibal nods because although he doesn't see what Will sees, he feels it through his fingers and those heartbeats he keeps catching. He kisses the young man's cheek and wonders if he deserves this.
- I love you - once again, he opens his heart, the one he doubted he had and now fears not knowing it is his.
Will says nothing, it's too much. How to tell Hannibal that before him he didn't know the meaning of living, or rather, he thought he did, wrong. How to show Hannibal that behind him had appeared that light inside him, strong, blinding, and that it was only Will's sign to show the world that he belonged to him completely.
- Let's make love again - he turns, kissing his lips, the light enveloping them both.
Addiction. They could never get enough. Their bodies have burned together so many times it's amazing how they still hunger for each other. They know every nook and cranny and yet they always discovered something different each time. Magic. Desire.
- Ask, beloved, what you want me to do.
Hannibal didn't know at what point he had taken Will's pleasure as his own, relegating himself to second place. He didn't know how he had been able to give the young man so much power, and he was fascinated every day to realise that, despite having that power, Will would never hurt him or use it against him.
- I want to ride you. Lie down.
Feeling Hannibal under his thighs and taking him wherever he chose to go excited Will to no end. The psychiatrist's hands on his hips, holding him steady, accompanying him, were forever etched in that heart that, like Hannibal, Will knew wasn't quite his. Because maybe Hannibal fell in love first, but Will, when he did, understood that he would never feel this way again.
- Make me more yours than I already am, Will.
Will's smile bouncing in Hannibal's eyes and also saved along with the others he's given him. The profiler's legs around him and his cock so hard that Hannibal knows he'll cum as soon as Will starts to move enough.
- Wait for me," Will asks him. I want you too much.
Will positions himself on top of Hannibal, this time with his back to Hannibal. The light surrounds them, letting them know that there is nothing in the universe right now that could separate them.
- Will...
- Follow me, Hannibal. Cum with me.
As he takes the psychiatrist's cock in his hand and pushes it inside him, Hannibal's amber eyes widen, staring at the ceiling, and his legs tighten so much that he thinks he's going to cum now. Will turns his face and smiles. And starts to move, feeling Hannibal's hands on his hips, trying to control the uncontrollable.
- Will...slowly...
- Sir, don't let the age control you...
Will gasps and the room fills with his moans. Because Will moaning when they fuck is normal, and Hannibal loving those moans is even more exciting than the act itself. Sometimes he thinks he could orgasm just listening to the young man enjoy himself the way he does.
But the young man's thrusts leave no room for doubt. Will wants to show Hannibal something he can't do with words. Love me, touch me, hold me. Be the first one to do it, be the last one I want to do it. I know the world I found by chance and I want to share with you. Can't you see it, Hannibal? The light. Strong, blinding, surrounding us. It belongs to us.
- Fuck, fuck, fuck....shit - Will accompanies his moans with his swearing; in bed, anything goes.
Hannibal raises his hips moving with Will because he cares too much about his pleasure. His cock bounces on his prostate all the time and his body burns in such a way that both Heaven and Hell are in the room right now.
- Don't stop, rougher, Will. More...
Drenched in sweat, he sits on top of Hannibal, stopping suddenly.
- Hold me," he says. The end belongs to me.
Hannibal sits up and embraces Will, his arms around his chest without pressure so he can ride him as he wishes. And just as Will wants, the end is his alone. He rides Hannibal, resting his hands on the psychiatrist's thighs, and for that time he forgets that until Hannibal his life wasn't life at all.
- I'm coming, Will ....
- Fill me up, fuck... - Will feels Hannibal's legs tighten and his semen spurts out to fill him completely.
Hannibal's arms around his chest, never leaving his core, as Will cums a few seconds later. The psychiatrist's head on his back and his breathing through the kisses he leaves on his skin as Will makes another mess between the sheets that Hannibal always calls a work of art. White on satin, the desire embodied in a bed that could tell so many things.
- Hannibal...
- You are exquisite, my dear. I burn with you. You are insatiable.
The purest light between the two of us. White, ethereal, eternal. Hannibal rests his hand on Will's heart and once again, he counts his rapid heartbeat. And Will squeezes it with his own, because he doesn't know how to make Hannibal understand that he has always been afraid. That the people he was with before didn't understand, or didn't want to understand. And that all of them ended up hurting him.
- Will - he takes the profiler's head gently and directs it towards the ceiling -. I see it now.
