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Title: It's No Game
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Prompt: #383, Game
Author's Note: Sequel to "A Taste For Submission."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue. soar
***Will stared up at Hannibal, wide-eyed. He hadn't expected his lover to come back so precipitately, and he certainly hadn't expected to be caught masturbating. But he had been, and by the smirk on Hannibal's face, this was something he'd looked forward to.
Hannibal had asked him to masturbate for him once, but Will had been too shy to do so at the time. Now, he was more used to being watched.
He didn't think he would have a hard time blocking out everything all around him and pleasuring himself if his lover asked him to do it. When he'd first been asked, it had been early in their relationship, and he hadn't known the kind of games that Hannibal liked to play then.
But this was no game. He feared for his life.
"Hannibal, this isn't a game," Will tried to protest, shaking his head. "It's not that I don't want you to watch me -- I don't think I'll have a problem with that again -- but I'm worried. And I'm scared. I don't want you to treat that like it's meaningless."
"I'm not trying to do that, Will." Hannibal came over to the bed and sat down, turning to look down at Will, his expression serious. "I know that this is no game. And I will admit, I'm worried for you, as well. I don't want this person to get anywhere near you."
"Then don't smirk at me and act like this is some game we're playing," Will said, sounding more angry than he intended to. He sighed, raising a hand to run it through his hair. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound short. I just .... I'm scared, Hannibal. Really scared."
Hannibal frowned, leaning close to Will and taking his face between his hands, looking into his eyes as if he could find some answer that he sought there.
"I understand that you are frightened, Will," he said softly, his voice very quiet. "I will admit that I'm worried, too. But don't think that I am treating our relationship as some game. I can assure you that I'm not. I merely want to take your mind off the situation."
Will nodded slowly; he could understand that.
Of course Hannibal didn't want him jump and nervous and tense when they were together; it made sense that his lover would try to do something to make him relax. So if Hannibal wanted to see him masturbate, then he'd gladly do it.
Maybe it would even work as Hannibal wanted it to, and take the edge off his worry. Maybe he would be able to lose himself so far into the pleasure of touching himself that he would forget about the corpses that all seemed to resemble him.
"Try not to think about it," Hannibal told him, releasing him and sitting up, still watching him. "Keep doing what you were doing. I doubt that you were finished yet."
"I wasn't," Will murmured, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. It was one thing to tell himself that he could masturbate in front of his lover, but it was another to actually do it. He wasn't sure just how to go back to it; he didn't feel comfortable with the situation.
Hannibal solved that for him by taking his hand and guiding it to his cock, wrapping Will's fingers around his erection. He didn't take his own hand away; he gazed into Will's eyes, slowly guiding the young man's hand up and down his cock.
"Show me how you pleasure yourself," Hannibal whispered. "That will help me to better pleasure you in the future. It can only be good for both of us."
Will nodded, swallowing hard. He could do this.
"Close your eyes if you want to," Hannibal told him, his hand moving slowly with Will's, up and down, up and down. Will could feel the pleasure starting to gather within his stomach, could feel his balls tightening, the rhythm starting to sink in.
No, this wasn't a game. But what he was doing was pleasurable, and Hannibal was right. Sinking into that pleasure would help him to forget what he'd seen, at least for a little while -- and right now, what he needed the most was to forget.
And Hannibal's hand was on his, guiding him; Hannibal was letting him demonstrate what pleased him. He had no doubt that his lover would use that knowledge to great effect later; in retrospect, he was surprised that Hannibal hadn't asked him to do this before.
Will lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes and letting the pleasure unfurl within him. He still felt a little uncomfortable, but there was something about Hannibal's hand on his own that made him feel less exposed, and more in tune with his own body.
His hand moved slowly, tightening at the base, then moving up to the tip to rub his thumb over the sensitive slit, Hannibal's movements mirroring his own.
Now, this was the kind of game he could get used to playing.
The situation he was in might not be a game, but these kinds of sexual games that Hannibal so excelled at playing were good for taking his mind off of his problems. The memories of what he'd seen that morning were fading, moving into the back of his mind.
He didn't have to focus on them. He didn't have to think about them, didn't have to remember. He could let himself sink into the pleasure that he was giving himself -- or was it being given to him? he wasn't sure -- and let everything else fade away.
His body was already tightening, on the verge of climax; he took a deep breath, concentrating on holding himself back. He wanted this to last, wanted Hannibal's hands on him for more than just a few moments. He wanted to take his time, to spin out the pleasure.
A moment later, Hannibal's hand took over for him; he dropped his own hand to his side, a moan slipping from his lips. His pleasure was given over to Hannibal now.
Hannibal knew exactly how to play his body like a violin, Will thought as the other man's hand moved up and down his shaft, doing exactly what his own hand had done. But it somehow felt so much better to be touched by his lover than it felt to touch himself.
Hannibal's hands had the power to take him to the stars.
He didn't need to concentrate on pleasuring himself now; he could simply lie back and enjoy what Hannibal was doing to him. And enjoy it he did; he felt as though his body was melting in his lover's capable hands, that touch taking him apart, then putting him back together again.
Such pleasure couldn't last for long; Will could feel himself spiraling upwards, knowing that he would come down again all too soon.
When his orgasm broke over him, the waves of pleasure seemed much stronger than anything he could have given himself. Yes, it felt good to touch himself, but even better to be touched by the man he'd given himself to, the man who knew him better than he knew himself.
As the pleasure subsided, he gazed up into Hannibal's eyes. His lover smiled back down at him, then leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss across Will's lips. "There. That didn't feel like a game to you, did it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
Will didn't really know what to say. With Hannibal, almost everything was a game. He knew that. But this was a game that he didn't mind playing.
But no, this hadn't really felt like a game. It had felt as though Hannibal was trying to give him some kind of protection against the disturbing thoughts that had been crowding into his mind, and Will appreciated that. He had needed to be distracted.
That had been one hell of a distraction, he told himself. One that he appreciated being given, even though he should have known that it wouldn't last for long.
"No, it didn't," he finally answered, knowing that the words weren't quite true.
However, that didn't really seem to matter. Hannibal probably knew that he was still shaken, that he wasn't really capable of holding himself together at the moment. But he'd given Will something to hold on to -- and Will was sure that he would be willing to give even more.
Hannibal bent over him once again, moving to straddle Will. He placed his hands on either side of Will's head, gazing down at him, a hungry expression on his face. Will knew what that meant. This little interlude wasn't over; it had only begun.
He certainly had no problem with that. As Hannibal's hands moved down his body, he closed his eyes, giving himself over to the moment and pushing all other thoughts from his mind.
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