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He'd never intended for the night to go like this.
Something similar, sure, but not like this. Will had been planning on behaving, for the most part. Smiling blithely as academics and socialites droned on and on about this or that, complimenting the food and sipping the wine like he was just another mindless member of the flock. Maybe peppering in a single devastating remark that just barely stayed within the confounds of propriety, just to get under the host's skin. It's grating, but at least he would get an orgasm or two out of it.
Hannibal is always...forthcoming, after a successful dinner party. It's part celebration, part apology. It's endearing, in a way, how excited his lover gets over something as simple as a party. Hannibal thrills at a good performance, and the dining room is one of his favorite stages. Will prefers his other performances, though- the ones that take place in the bedroom or the basement and have much smaller audiences.
Still, he always attends, and stays on reasonably good behavior. Will still remembers how Hannibal had sulked for a full week the one time he'd refused to make an appearance, and his lover is somehow even more insufferable in a poor mood than he is in a good one. Hannibal is well aware that he'd rather be almost anywhere else, though, so he always makes it worth his while.
But Lord, tonight is tedious. Alana Bloom is here as usual, but she has some fancy-looking woman on her arm and Will doesn't feel like meeting a new person. And one of Hannibal's doctor buddies from way back when is in town, so Will can't even find amusement by hovering in his lover's orbit.
It hasn't stopped him from trying, though. He's been lurking on the outside of the conversation for a good ten minutes, drinking his wine more quickly than is technically appropriate and trying like hell to get a word in edgewise. Medical talk is a bit beyond his repertoire, so he's close to giving up.
A part of Will wants to just grab Hannibal by the arm, excuse the two of them, and pull him to the dance floor. Will isn't much of a dancer, but Hannibal adores it whenever he's given the chance. Spinning Will around the room to the tempo of some tired classical record, inevitably dipping him low and kissing him until he's swooning like some heroin in a period drama. Luckily he can't do that in front of anyone. Will might die from the embarrassment. But Will wants to do it anyway. Just for a few minutes of his undivided attention.
Keeping their relationship a secret was the wise choice, of course. No additional pressure when they consult on cases together, and if suspicions surrounding them ever rose they could explain away their secrecy by exposing the affair, thus relieving any tension regarding their more...closely guarded secrets. Besides, neither of them felt like it was anyone else's business that they were together.
As the months have passed, though, Will's found himself wishing they could go public. If only for moments like this. Everyone, everyone here wants Hannibal's attention. They all want him to themselves. And as embarrassingly petty as it is, he wants to show off a bit. He wants to steal Hannibal away to the dance floor and show them all that his lover is already taken, that he chose Will, and that everyone else is a lower priority.
The thoughts put him in a petulant mood, which is an admittedly unflattering look for him. It's entirely unwarranted, too, as Hannibal is simply enjoying his evening. Being a good host, as always. And of course, the moment the last guest leaves, Will can have him all to himself again. There's nothing wrong with sharing. Will can share.
Will moves to take another large sip of his wine, only to find that it's empty. The open door to the study catches his eye. Hannibal wouldn't mind if Will raided his liquor cabinet. They would live together, if it wasn't for the matter of secrecy, and Will's dogs. And Hannibal is too wrapped up in the party to notice if Will slips away, he won't be missed.
He absconds to the quiet of the dimly lit study, opening the cabinet and pulling a bottle of whiskey from inside. Maybe he could just spend the rest of the evening in here, read a book in Hannibal's desk chair and wait for all these hangers-on to go away.
"I don't think Doctor Lecter would appreciate someone stealing from his private reserves, you know. Especially not when the wine is flowing like water out there."
Will chuckles, turning toward the door. A tall, willowy woman strides into the study, a coy smile playing at her burgundy-painted lips.
"Hannibal is a wine snob, he won't miss a few fingers of whiskey," he says, pulling a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself some.
She looks him up and down, studying.
"Enjoying the party?" He asks.
She shrugs, disturbing the auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. "I needed a break from the crowd. So when I saw you snooping around, I thought I'd join you."
"There's lots of snooping to be done here, if you know where to look."
She laughs. "I'll bet. You seem to know your way around, too. How do you know Doctor Lecter, exactly?"
Will swallows. "We're friends. Colleagues. This isn't the first dinner I've had at his house. And you?"
"We met through the ballet."
Will takes another look at her. Lithe, strong. Excellent posture. Legs for days, too. "You're a dancer?"
She nods and holds out a hand, three thin silver bracelets clinking together with the movement. "Sybil Ashford," She says.
Will takes it, shaking it firmly. "Will Graham."
Two guests walk by the door, their conversation filtering in and interrupting the exhange.
"We should probably go rejoin the party, Mister Graham," Sybil says, mischief twinkling in her eye. "We wouldn't want anyone to think we were up to something."
Will raises an eyebrow. This is fighting dirty. He knows it's fighting dirty. He's done a lot of things to get a rise out of Hannibal before, but this might be a step too far. He'll get quite the punishment for it, too. An all-or-nothing sort of punishment. He's either going to be unable to sit for weeks or he won't be allowed to come until the next time Hannibal throws a party. Or both.
And Will is just enough of a glutton for punishment to play those odds.
"Well, I'm here with a dancer, and music, and a dance floor. It would be foolish, to not at least ask if you'd join me."
Sybil looks pleased. "I'd love to."
Will and Sybil leave the study, and Will immediately looks to where he'd left Hannibal. He's still talking to a circle of austere-looking gentlemen, as if he hadn't noticed Will's absence. Will places a guiding hand on the small of Sybil's back, resting his palm on the silver fabric that lies just before the open portion of her dress.
He catches Hannibal's eye as they're moving to the dance floor. He looks at Will, then to Sybil, and back to Will. Will tries to look innocent. To his credit, Hannibal manages to keep his reaction mostly in check, but Will notices the twitch of his upper lip, resisting the impulse to curl into a snarl.
Hannibal can be terribly, terribly possessive at times. It's not hard to make him jealous, but it is hard to make him rude. So despite the burst of territorial energy Will just witnessed, he's not surprised when Hannibal just rejoins his conversation a moment later.
When a new song begins, Sybil glides easily onto the floor, resting a hand on Will's shoulder and intertwining the other with his own. Will places his hand on her waist, begins to move with the music.
She gives him a curious look after a few measures. "Do you dance often, Will?"
Will chuckles. "Is it that obvious?"
"Here, let me," she says, and lifts his hand from his waist to her shoulder, bringing her own to his hip. "I'm used to leading, anyway."
Sybil's hand pulls him closer, their bodies almost flush as she guides him fluidly across the floor. Will becomes aware of eyes on them, many sets of eyes. He glances across the room and sees Alana and her date watching them. He recognizes the other woman, then. He hadn't given her a proper look before, but they do know each other, somewhat. She's another one of Hannibal's patients. Small world. She raises her brows at him, as if to say she's impressed. Alana mostly looks confused.
The music swells and Sybil spins him gracefully. Will laughs, a light flush rising to his face. "You make this look easy," he says.
She smirks. "I'm more than just a pretty face, Will. Are you?"
He falters. "I think it's debatable whether I'm a pretty face to begin with."
Sybil chuckles at that. "Trust me, Will Graham," she says, and she's suddenly leaning even closer to whisper in Will's ear. "You wouldn't be with me if you weren't. I only settle for the best."
The song reaches an almost overwhelming crescendo, and Sybil dips him low. He's surprised by her strength, but then again Ballerinas are much stronger than people give them credit for. He's suspended beneath her for a moment and she looks at him, eyes lidded.
When she brings him back up, he's almost instantly met with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Will," Hannibal says. He's trying to maintain an air of politeness, but it's tight. Forced. "I do hate to interrupt, but I'm afraid I need to speak with you."
"Doctor Lecter, I wonder why you've never introduced me to Miss Ashford," Will says, grinning with satisfaction at how deeply he's gotten under Hannibal's skin. "She's extraordinary, isn't she? What a talented dancer."
Sybil smiles. "Thank you, Mister Graham. I'd love to teach you a few moves, sometime."
Hannibal offers her a tight-lipped expression, though calling it a 'smile' would be very generous. "Miss Ashford, I hope you're enjoying your evening, but I must steal Will from you for a moment."
Will looks at Hannibal, victorious. He has his lover exactly where he wants him.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait. It would be rude for me to leave my partner before the song is over, don't you think, Hannibal?"
Checkmate.
Hannibal can't insist without looking impolite, which he would never do and especially not here, in front of so many of his acquaintances and colleagues. No, he'll be forced to relent, and he'll have to watch Will show off and flirt with Sybil all night, and be patient for once in his life. He can have his fun punishing Will for being a brat, but Will gets to have his fun too, winding Hannibal up all evening.
At least, that's how this was supposed to go.
Will is taken completely off guard when Hannibal snatches a fistful of his suit jacket, wordlessly dragging him across the floor.
"H-Hannibal-" Will laughs in disbelief, half-whispering as he follows Hannibal's rough pulls. "Hannibal, people are staring at you."
And they are. People Will's never met are looking at them with wide eyes, scandalized by the sight of Hannibal Lecter acting so uncouth. Will feels himself blushing when he catches Alana and her date in his periphery, both of them tracking the action with obvious amusement. He tries to stop, to keep Hannibal from making any more of a scene than he already has, but he just yanks Will forward more aggressively.
Hannibal leads him into the hallway, barely out of view of the party, and shoves him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.
Will laughs nervously. "Did I strike a nerve, doctor?"
Hannibal doesn't speak, removing his suit jacket and placing it on the bathroom counter. He moves to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, quick and efficient.
Will sighs. "Come on, you know I was just playing-"
"You will speak when you are spoken to. Don't test me," Hannibal says. His voice is sharp, commanding. Will shivers.
With all the practiced grace of a panther, Hannibal pushes Will into the counter, gripping his hips so hard Will can practically see the prints he'll be wearing tomorrow. He crushes their mouths together, kissing him savagely until his lips are bitten and tingling and Will is gasping for air.
"They're all gonna know what you're doing in here," He taunts when Hannibal pulls away. He can't resist the desire to be a bit bratty, not when he's evidently wound Hannibal up so much that he's getting his reward early.
Hannibal focuses on unfastening Will's belt, roughly pulling his pants partially down his thighs along with his boxers. Will's already half-hard from all this manhandling, and he gasps when Hannibal starts stroking him.
"Well, apparently this is what I have to do to keep you from acting like a cheap whore in front of my associates," he bites, using his other hand to grab a fistful of Will's curls. He pulls them sharply until Will is staring up at the bathroom ceiling, whimpering in the back of his throat. "Do I have to put a collar on you, Will? Is that what you want?"
Will moans, bucking into Hannibal's hand. Hannibal tugs his hair again, and tears start to gather in his eyes.
Hannibal tuts, quickening his pace. "No, I doubt I could trust you to keep it on. Perhaps I should brand you instead. A permanent mark, showing everyone you meet exactly whose bitch you are."
Will whines, tries to nod despite the grip pulling at his scalp.
"Yes?" Hannibal prods. "You'd like me to mark you?"
"Yes, fuck- yes, Hannibal, mark me, please. I want everyone to know I'm yours."
Hannibal's hand stills on his length, and Will whimpers, rutting helplessly for just a little more friction. He leans close, whispers into Will's ear. "My what, Will?"
Will shudders.
"Say it."
"Y-your bitch," he whispers.
"Pardon?"
Will swallows, forces himself to speak a little louder. "I'm...I'm your bitch, Hannibal."
Hannibal chuckles, a dark rumble that makes Will's pulse skyrocket. He's rewarded with a set of dangerous, sharp teeth sinking into his bared neck. Will yelps, melting into a low moan as Hannibal proceeds to litter his throat with bites and bruises until he's thoroughly, unmistakably marked. Will's cock is leaking, begging for his attention as much as the rest of him is. He's a mess by the time Hannibal is satisfied with the army of red and purple marks on Will's body, trembling and wide-eyed and more turned on than he's been in a long while.
It occurs to him that, if Hannibal truly wanted to be cruel, he could leave Will just like this, and simply rejoin the party. He imagines it- being left alone, shaking and needy and rock hard in Hannibal's bathroom. It would be a fitting punishment for making Hannibal watch him dance with Miss Ashford.
Hannibal steps back to take him in, and Will bites his already tender lip at the hungry look in his lover's eyes.
"Gana maža kekšė," Hannibal mutters, and Will has to brace himself on the counter. Fuck, Hannibal's hot when he speaks Lithuanian. And Will doesn't know much of the language, but he knows that word very, very well.
Kekšė. Slut.
"H-Hannibal," he pants. "Come on, it was just one dance."
Hannibal tilts his head, closing the space between them again.
"I just got so bored, baby. I just wanted to play-"
He's cut off when Hannibal spins him, bending him over the counter.
"Well, if I must keep you occupied to avoid being made a cuckold at my own party, then I suppose I must provide you with a distraction," he growls, punctuating his words with a rough grope of Will's ass.
Will presses his forehead to the cool countertop, waiting. He hears the medicine cabinet open and close behind him, and shivers with anticipation.
Hannibal is merciless when his lube-smothered fingers come to Will's entrance. He's quick, methodical. Will can tell that he's only fingering him as preparation, not as a vehicle for pleasure, and the promise of Hannibal's cock has him squirming desperately against the digits.
He lifts his head, looks into the bathroom mirror until Hannibal meets his gaze through the reflection. Will stares up at him with Hannibal's favorite look- the needy puppy-dog eyes that he can never, ever say no to- and says "Please."
Hannibal plays a big game, with the degradation and the roughness and the domination, but at the end of the day he's just as whipped as Will is. They both know it, too. No one could ever get away with half the shit Will gets away with, Hannibal is just powerless when it comes to his lover.
He removes his fingers and slicks up his cock, staring at Will in the mirror as he does. Will takes a moment to look at himself, too. He's a disaster, predictably. His pupils are blown and his face is flushed and his lips are swollen, but he doesn't feel truly debauched until he raises his chin.
Hannibal hadn't missed a single angle, Will wouldn't be able to hide the claiming bites from anyone. Even if, by some miracle, no one attending the party had heard him moaning like a whore in here, they would know instantly that Hannibal had branded Will as his own.
He lifts a trembling hand, runs his fingertips along the column of his throat.
Everyone will know that Hannibal Lecter has fucked him within an inch of his life.
Will's pulled from his thoughts when he feels the wet head of Hannibal's cock pressing against his entrance. He whines, arching his back.
"Look at me, kekšė."
Will's eyes dart up to meet Hannibal's in the mirror.
"I am going to mark you, inside and out," Hannibal says, gripping Will's hip tightly as he nudges teasingly at Will's rim.
Will gasps, trying to move backwards into him. Hannibal holds him fast.
He leans over Will's back, speaking low and soft.
"I don't want you to be able to move without remembering who you belong to."
Will chokes on a strangled moan as Hannibal pushes into him. His preparation was not enough to keep Will from crying out in pain when Hannibal immediately starts fucking into him.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it, bitch? My undivided attention?"
Will whines, pain and pleasure making his whole body feel sensitive as Hannibal's cock brushes against his prostate.
Hannibal groans low in his throat, fucking deep into Will. "Filthy little whore, couldn't stand going a few hours without my cock."
He moans helplessly, hips twitching at Hannibal's words. "Yes baby, yes," he says, fingers curling into useless fists against the countertop. "I'm your whore, I needed you to use me."
Hannibal pounds into him, clearly affected by Will's submission. "Purvina, bevertė kekšė."
Will's cock twitches. He might not know the language but he knows exactly what Hannibal just said. It's in the way he's fucking Will like he's a damn fleshlight, in the way he's making him feel sinful and debased and so deliciously used.
Dirty. Worthless. Slut.
"Hannibal, baby, please," he begs, needing his release like air in his lungs.
Will almost sobs when Hannibal wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it quickly in time with his thrusts.
"Tell me who you belong to."
Will moans, drooling with pleasure. "You," he slurs.
Hannibal slams into Will, and he would've collapsed were it not for Hannibal's other hand and its iron hold on his hip.
"Again. Say it again."
Will's close, he can barely think. "Fuck, fuck, Hannibal- I belong to you."
Will clenches around Hannibal, he's right on the edge. Hannibal cluchtes him so tightly he feels like his hip might snap.
"Who do you belong to, Will?"
Will cries out, tears slipping down his cheeks in overwhelmed pleasure. "You, you! I belong to you, Hannibal, n-nobody else, please, ple-"
Hannibal lands a well-aimed thrust against Will's prostate, stroking him through it as Will's orgasm completely consumes him. He comes, making a mess of his suit. He's wracked with full-body convulsions, sudderering in Hannibal's hold. Will lets out a loud, wretched sound, though whether it's a wanton moan or a sob of relief, he's a bit too far gone to say.
Hannibal's hand leaves Will's still twitching cock to press down on his spine, crushing his chest into the counter. He fucks into Will for a few more moments before he comes with a string of Lithuanian curses, filling Will and making him feel even more used.
Will is still gasping for air, plastered to the counter and exposed, when Hannibal withdraws to begin recollecting himself. Will lifts his head just enough to watch Hannibal in the mirror, observing as he straightens his tie and unrolls his sleeves. He pulls on his suit jacket, and save for the few loose strands of hair that have fallen into his face, he looks exactly the same as before, ready to rejoin the festivities.
Will, however.
He sluggishly brings himself to a standing position, feels Hannibal's come start to leak down his thighs. He grimaces, he's going to be feeling this for days.
"Can you walk?"
Will blinks at him. "Uh, yeah."
Hannibal nods. "We can get to the bedroom from here without being seen. I'll draw you a bath, and then you can rest for the remainder of the night."
"But...the party..."
"If anyone asks after you, I shall inform them that you were feeling unwell, so I offered to let you lie down upstairs." Hannibal kisses his cheek, gives him a soft smile. "You didn't think I would actually make you go out there looking like this, did you?"
Will laughs, still coming back to earth. "No. I didn't. I guess I just got really into the scene."
"I could tell," he says, looking very pleased with himself. "Come, let's get you upstairs."
Will nods, recollecting himself as much as he cares to for the short trip to Hannibal's en suite.
"Hey, listen."
When Hannibal looks at him, Will gives him a very serious expression.
"Don't kill Sybil Ashford, yeah? She doesn't know we're dating, she didn't do anything wrong."
"I don't enjoy sharing, my love."
He rolls his eyes. "Come on, for my sake at least. I don't want to feel like I got someone killed just because I wanted to get railed."
Hannibal sighs heavily. "If you would prefer that I didn't, I suppose I could still my hand, for now. On one condition."
Will smiles. "What's that?"
Hannibal pulls Will in for another hot kiss, dangerous and claiming.
"Don't ever make me jealous again."