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His Boy in Blue

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   “Darling, what’s that?” Hannibal murmured against Will’s ear. His chin perched on Will’s shoulder, chest pressed flush to his back as Will carded through his closet, searching for something suitable to wear for a night out on the town. Amongst the plain tees and awful flannels, a flash of crisp blue caught Hannibal’s eye. A soft sigh slipped from Will’s lips, and he traced a finger over the starched fabric.

   “Oh. That’s my old uniform from New Orleans.” He turned a lopsided smile on Hannibal. “I should probably just get rid of it. But I can’t seem to.”

   Hannibal hummed, nuzzling his nose against Will’s neck, drinking in his scent: lingering sweat and faint notes of cedar and pine, courtesy of the fine cologne that Hannibal had bought for him in an entirely unsubtle coup against the old ship-on-the-bottle swill. Goosebumps rose against his lips as he pressed them lightly to the back of Will’s ear.

 “Ah, yes,” Hannibal breathed, “I sometimes forget that you were on the force before Jack took hold of your leash.”

   Will cut his eyes at him, bristling at the implication of subservience. For so long now, they had been dancing an intricate pas de trois of deception, with Will claiming fealty to both Hannibal and Jack. It was never certain where his loyalty lay, or which of his masks was truer, the lawful man or the natural killer. The knife edge of trust they walked was sweetly thrilling, but Hannibal feared how deeply it might cut.

   Though Will’s mercurial nature was infinitely fascinating, Hannibal elected for the moment to simply bask in the glow of his romantic mood. He chuckled lowly and nipped at his neck, eliciting a little shiver.        

   “Yeah, well, working homicide sort of lost its appeal after I got stabbed,” Will said gruffly.               

    Choosing to ignore Will’s deflection, Hannibal hummed again, turning over an image in his mind, like worrying a pebble between your fingers until it shines.

    “I’d like to see you in it,” he said with his teeth against Will’s clavicle.

    Will made a small, surprised noise. “Why?” he asked, smile turning sly and voice teasing, “Do you have a thing for men in uniform, Doctor Lecter?”

     Declining to confirm or deny, Hannibal merely raised his eyebrows and pressed a kiss to Will’s shoulder. “Indulge my whimsy, won’t you, darling?”

   “I can hardly wear it out, but all right, darling, I guess I can humor you. Just this once.”

   Will turned and looped his arms around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that was soft but full of promise, his teeth tugging lightly at Hannibal’s lower lip. Hannibal’s hands fell to Will’s hips, tightening greedily. Will tsked and stepped back, pulling the uniform from the closet. Hannibal noted the reverence with which Will’s fingers skimmed over the fabric as he laid it out on the bed, the careful way they traced over the glinting silver badge, a crescent arcing over a star. A simple touch that spoke so eloquently of honor, duty, and regret.

     Will held Hannibal's gaze as he stripped out of his clothes and began to redress, his eyes darkling and electric. Almost as an afterthought, he laced on heavy black work boots;  not quite correct, but close enough. He paused when he finished, lifting his chin challengingly. Hannibal had to admit, whatever his feelings on ‘men in uniform' were before, he was utterly bewitched by this image of Will. The navy slacks highlighted his powerfully muscled legs,  the short sleeves of the summer uniform clung to his shoulders and biceps, and the light cornflower blue contrasted nicely with the storminess of his irises. The riot of brown curls that framed his face like a halo were certainly not up to the severe standard of the police force, but they they gave him a fierce angelic beauty,  like Caravaggio's David. He radiated a quiet sense of power and authority that raised the fine hairs on the back of Hannibal's neck.

   “Come here,” Will beckoned him, voice soft and low, but unmistakably commanding. Hannibal swallowed thickly and stepped to him, running a worshipful hand down his cheek to his stubbled jaw. Will caught his wrist and pressed a lingering kiss to it. Hannibal cleared his throat and raised his eyes to meet Will's. A sharp barb of desire hooked behind his ribs.

   “Perhaps we ought to have a night in, after all,” Hannibal suggested lightly, his voice coming out breathier than intended. Will graced him with a skewed smile before pulling him in for another kiss, this one rough and full of teeth. Hannibal moaned weakly into his mouth. Will pulled him flush against himself, tilting his hips against Hannibal's teasingly.

   “You wanna play cops and robbers, is that it, baby?” he purred, voice suddenly molasses-thick with the Louisiana drawl that normally only surfaced when he was deep in his whiskey. The sound stoked heat low in Hannibal's gut. In his groin.

   “Yes,” he breathed, throat tight with wanting. A wolfish grin bared Will's teeth.

    “Just a few more things then, to make it more fun,” Will promised as he gently pushed Hannibal away. He crossed to his dresser, and Hannibal admired the sway of his hips and the curve of his ass in his blues, which seemed to cup and caress him. Will turned back to him, and Hannibal's eyes dropped to his waist, where he had secured his gun, a pair of handcuffs, and a nightstick. Hannibal raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a slightly mocking expression, but the hot flush across his cheeks gave him away. Curling a finger under his chin, Will tilted Hannibal's face up.

   “If you want me to catch you, you'd better run from me, baby.”

   Hannibal's heart slammed against his ribs. He stood stock still for a moment, every tendon taut and straining, savoring the predatory glint in Will's eyes, the whiskey and thunder of his voice, the sharp scent of his arousal. Then, without preamble, he pivoted and fled from the room. Down the stairs and around the corner into Will's kitchen, Hannibal sprinted, delighting in the burn of his muscles, his breathing labored as much from anticipation as exertion. He knew Will would give him something of a head start, but not too much. His blood sang with the thrill of the chase. It was a sweet and potent high, playing the prey instead of the predator. Adrenaline and cortisol buzzed through him electrically and he wondered just how much harm his sweet William would cause. As he ran into the living room, he heard the pound of Will's feet and the harsh rasp of his breath behind him.

  “Stop!  Put your hands in the air!” Will barked. A shiver rippled down Hannibal's back, but he didn't slow. “Stop or I'll shoot!” Will commanded and Hannibal glanced over his shoulder to see Will's gun levelled at him. He bit his lip to contain his smirk and stood still, chest heaving, and raised his hands slowly in the air. Will prowled to him, keeping the gun trained on him. “Hands behind your head. Spread your legs.”

  At that, Hannibal couldn't resist leering over his shoulder. Will's eyes narrowed and his upper lip curled in a snarl. He yanked Hannibal's arms tight behind his back. The cold, hard bite of  handcuffs snicked around Hannibal's wrists as Will pressed up behind him. His pulse pounded, and his knees felt rubbery and prone to collapse.

   “Dr. Lecter, you're under arrest on suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney---” The Mirandizing ended abruptly with a grunt as Hannibal ducked and threw his shoulder into Will's abdomen. It was inconvenient not have the use of his hands, but he could still put up a good fight. There was nothing more satisfying than grappling with Will, intellectually, sexually, or in combat--the pleasure of such an adept opponent made defeat equally as sweet as victory.

   Will recovered his balance quickly and growled, jamming his knee behind Hannibal's and grabbing his restrained arms to bear him none too gently to the ground. Hannibal smiled into the floor as Will's weight pinned him down, his knee in the small of Hannibal's back, one large hand splayed on his nape. How he loved Will’s hands: strong, deft, and capable of great violence or gentleness; as at ease tenderly washing a matted and dirty stray dog as firing a gun to bring down a killer. Overpowered by those hands, staring up into Will’s eyes and recognizing the glint of a predator there, Hannibal’s stomach fluttered full of restless wings.

   Near delirious with desire, but unwilling to cede too easily, Hannibal bucked his hips up hard, using his larger frame to offset Will's leverage, and rolled them over, clamping his thighs tightly around Will's hips to hold him down. Will bared his teeth, eyes flashing fiercely, and lunged up to headbutt Hannibal in the nose. A hot trickle of blood rushed down his mouth and chin and he reeled. Will seized the opportunity and brought up his nightstick, cracking it sharply into Hannibal's flank. He lunged forward and reversed their position, straddling Hannibal's hips and forcing the nightstick under his chin, tight against his throat. Swooning might be the right word for what Hannibal was feeling, like some frail Victorian damsel, dizzy and breathless, waiting for a strong man to take her in hand.

  “Resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. You're going to go away for a very long time, Doctor Lecter.” Will's breath brushed hot against Hannibal's ear. Hannibal rocked his hips, pressing his hardened cock against Will's mirroring erection.

   “Is there any way I can change your mind Officer…” he dropped his eyes to read the neat white stitching on the uniform, “Officer Graham? I can be quite persuasive.” Another tilt of his hips, and Will hissed, biting hard on his lower lip to hold back a moan.

        “Can you now,” Will drawled, putting his accent on extra thick with sarcasm, “why don't you give me a little demonstration then?”

 To Hannibal's surprise, Will eased the nightstick off of his throat, reached for his hip holster and pulled out his gun. He locked eyes with Hannibal, sliding open the chamber and emptying the bullets into his palm, then pocketing them. The tip of the barrel nudged at the crease of Hannibal's lips.

  “Go on, Doc. Make that mouth of yours useful,” Will purred. His gaze blistered on Hannibal's skin like touch, following the drop of his Adam's apple, the parting of his lips, and the flick of his tongue as he opened for the gun.

    Pride welled up in Hannibal's chest for his fierce, glorious boy. No one else could make him submit like this. No one else would dare but this beautiful, dangerous creature. He held Will's gaze as he wrapped his lips around the cold, hard metal and sucked tenderly, almost lovingly at the barrel. The metallic tang was thick on his tongue, not exactly pleasant, but as a proxy for Will, entirely appropriate.  

  “Fuck,” Will growled, “That's it. Take it. Show me how bad you want it.”

   Hannibal moaned loudly around the barrel, partly theatrics, but mostly genuine. He swirled his tongue around the tip and then licked up the length before hollowing his cheeks to take the barrel in as deep as possible. Will moaned and pushed it further in, easing back only when Hannibal began to choke. “Look at you. So beautiful, and taking it so good. I don't know if I should let you go, Doc. They'd love you in prison. You'd be everybody's little boy toy. Seems kinda unfair to deny them. Whadda ya think, baby?  You'd probably love that wouldn't you? Using that dirty mouth of yours to service all of them?” He began to thrust the gun in a slow, lazy rhythm, leisurely fucking Hannibal's mouth. Moaning, Hannibal shook his head, arching his hips against Will as if to say just you.

      Fisting a hand in Hannibal's hair, Will stood and dragged him up to his knees. Hannibal kept his lips tight around the barrel of the gun, gazing up adoringly and beseechingly at Will from beneath lowered eyelashes. The very picture of a penitent kneeling before a wrathful god. Will's eyes fell dispassionately on him, steely and remote. He sped up the motion of his hand, fucking Hannibal's mouth roughly. The metal clicked against his teeth, and Hannibal's jaw and throat ached sweetly.

  “You made a big mistake fucking with me, Doc.” Will stated calmly, as if commenting on the weather, “I really ought to lock you up with the other animals, let them use you for what's so clearly your true purpose.” He stroked a thumb tenderly down Hannibal's jaw, over the column of his neck, his other hand tightening in his hair.“But you're trying so hard, aren't you, baby?  Maybe I can let you off with a warning. If you make me happy.”

  He pulled the gun from Hannibal's mouth, wiped it on the doctor’s pristine white dress shirt until it was no longer shiny with saliva, and tucked it back into its holster. Taking Hannibal's chin in his hand, he tilted his face up to survey him. Hannibal's lips were swollen and red, his high cheekbones flushed and glistening with sweat, his pupils blown wide with lust, and his irises darkened to a rusty brown like dried blood.  He looked positively wrecked and ravishable.

 Will unzipped his blues and took out his cock, flushed carnation red and leaking precum, pressing the head to Hannibal's lips.  “Now, let's see if you're really as good as you made it look. Open up for me.”

 Will's voice stroked over Hannibal like velvet wrapped steel, and he shivered, parting his lips as wide as possible to take Will in. Hannibal moaned whorishly, straining to take Will's cock as deep as possible without the use of his hands. His wrists twisted in the cuffs, and he growled at the futility of the gesture. His inability to touch Will was maddening, but Hannibal channelled all of his frustration into worshipping his lover with his mouth. A fathomless depth of idolatry was evident in the way Hannibal’s tongue teased at the slit of Will’s cockhead, in the greedy, inarticulate noises that issued from his lips and reverberated deliciously up and down the length of Will’s shaft. In his role as prisoner, Hannibal was unable to speak the prayers that formed in his throat, so he sublimated them into obscene kisses along the length of Will’s cock.

  “Damn,” Will swore thickly, tightening his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, sending ripples of heat cascading down the doctor’s scalp and neck, “you missed your calling as a whore, darlin’.”

    Hannibal growled against the girth in his throat, face flaming. That crass, wicked tongue. It did terrible things to him. Will’s hips bucked against his chin, their rhythm increasingly erratic. His throat resisted, and he breathed deeply to push down his gag reflex, leaning his forehead into Will’s hip crease, and drinking in his pungent scent. Before long, Will’s nails dug into his shoulders and the profiler shuddered and swore as he filled Hannibal’s mouth with hot, salty cum. Hannibal swallowed him down gratefully and continued his ministrations, tenderly lapping at the head of Will's cock until he was completely clean. As far as he was concerned, nothing on this Earth could compare to the taste of his delightful, wicked Will. Not the finest wine or most decadent cuisine. Will was a movable feast that Hannibal would gladly sup on til the end of all things.

  A whine of disappointment escaped from him when Will pulled out of his mouth and zipped his pants again.

   “Mmm. You want it so bad, don't you?” Will asked breathlessly, petting through Hannibal's hair. Hannibal nodded, shamelessly moaning and licking his lips to recapture Will's taste. “Goddamn, that was amazing. You're a born cocksucker, ain't you, Doc?”

   Again, Hannibal nodded, locking eyes with Will, silently pleading for more. He tilted his head, baring his throat in a clear display of submission. Will chuckled hoarsely and let out a low whistle.  “You're something else, baby,” he purred, his Southern twang coating the words with honeyed warmth. “Well, don't you worry, pretty thing. I'm almost not mad at you any more. So I'll give it to you real good. Real sweet like.” Will smiled at him, feral and lopsided, as he stroked Hannibal's hair out of his face.

   “Please,” Hannibal begged hoarsely.

   “Please, what?” Will prompted him, tone light and mocking.

   “Please, Officer Graham. Fuck me.”

     Will tugged gently on the sandy- silver hair clutched in his hand until Hannibal rose to his feet. With firm hands on his shoulders, Will guided him to the couch and bent him over the back of it. Hannibal's erection was pressed uncomfortably against it, and he hissed. Will's hand squeezed warningly at his nape. His breath left him in a shuddering gasp as Will reached around his waist and undid his slacks, lowering them and his boxer briefs until his ass and the tops of his thighs were bared. Heat rushed to Hannibal's face, and he arched his back, thrusting his ass out farther. A warm, wide hand settled on his right cheek, calluses rough against his skin.

   “I'll be right back,” Will promised, “you stay right there. Don't you dare move a muscle.” He patted Hannibal's rump once, absently, before walking out of the room.

     Hannibal sighed impatiently, pressing his overheated face to the fabric of the couch. His eyes roamed the room while he waited for Will to return, cataloging all the minutiae of this strange, marvelous man’s domesticity. The scattered parts of what was no doubt a boat engine gleamed dully in a corner; a little cloud of dog hair fuzzed the couch cushion in front of him; the dogs themselves could be faintly heard barking in the yard; a fishing lure in progress was propped up underneath a magnifying glass on the table; next to an empty coffee cup, a book lay propped open on a chair, its spine crinkled and pages dogeared. A rush of affection compressed his ribs. All the signs of a hermit's life, a solitary man who hid himself from the world, only highlighted what a precious and rare gift it was to be admitted into his world.

    It was his fervent hope that he could be allowed the privilege of enriching that world, opening it to its full spectrum of delights by guiding Will in his transformation, awakening him to the fullness of his nature. Already, he’d evolved, so much fiercer and more assured than the repressed, muzzled man Hannibal had first met in Jack Crawford’s office. He would be radiant when his full potential was realized. Too bright to look upon.

   “Well, look at you!” Will exclaimed when he returned, voice warm with approval, “I guess you're learning your lesson, Doctor. Following the rules ain't so hard now, is it?”

     Hannibal shook his head meekly as Will stroked down his spine, rucking up his shirt to run rough-tipped fingers over his skin.

    “You're getting frissons, cher,” Will drawled, placing a kiss to Hannibal's goosebumped flesh. Hannibal mewled at the sound of the Cajun endearment on Will's tongue and arched up into his touch. Will ran his nails lightly down his flanks and he shivered.

   “Please,” Hannibal urged him, not certain that he could stand another minute without Will inside of him.

    “Be patient now,” Will shushed him, squeezing his hip reassuringly, “you're being so good for me. I'm gonna take care of you.” The sound of a bottle opening clarified what Will had left for, and Hannibal turned his head to watch Will slick his cock with lube. He poured a little more into his hand and then grabbed Hannibal's ass, spreading him wide. A whimper escaped him as Will massaged a finger around his rim.

     Hannibal canted his hips up, trying to impale himself. “Please,” he begged again, desperately. Will tutted disapprovingly, but he gave Hannibal what he wanted, pushing his finger inside of him and crooking it to stretch and stroke him.

   Will held him hard by one hip, anchoring him as he pushed another finger in. “God, you're so tight, but you're taking me in so easy, baby. You're gonna feel so good on my cock. I think I'll make you scream for me. Would you like that?” Will whispered against his ear.

  “Fuck. Yes,” Hannibal groaned. “Please. I want you inside of me now, Officer.” He ground down on Will's fingers, fucking himself on Will's hand. Will chuckled and nuzzled his nose against Hannibal's neck.  He licked a rivulet of sweat from his nape and bit down gently, sucking a faint pink mark into the skin. Hannibal moaned brokenly, and Will took pity on him, pulling out his fingers and lining up the head of his cock at Hannibal's stretched rim. He took a deep breath and pushed all the way inside in one long, slow thrust, until his hips settled against Hannibal's ass. Will stamped a kiss to his back.

   “That's it, baby,” he crooned, “take me all in. God, you feel so fucking good.”

   Will set a languid, teasing pace at first, licking and sucking at Hannibal's neck in a way that would not doubt leave a collar of pretty bruise blossoms. The frustration was quickly becoming too much to bear.

  When Will finally hit his prostate, Hannibal keened,“Plus fort! Tu me rends fou!”  Immediately, Will slammed into him hard enough to make him wince and Hannibal moaned wantonly. Will dragged his nails down Hannibal’s back and bit down hard at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

   “Oh, mon cher, you beg so pretty. Ça c'est bon . Let me hear you scream, baby. Show me how bad you want me,” Will coaxed. Will fucked him brutally, each thrust slamming violently into his prostate, his large, strong hands gripping Hannibal's hips bruisingly, and his teeth leaving constellations of suck marks up and down the column of his throat. When Will reached around and finally gripped his aching cock, Hannibal did scream. Too far gone to stay in character, he panted, “Fuck. Will. I'm going to cum. Baise-moi. Fuuuuck.”

   Biting down hard on Hannibal's shoulder, Will smiled against the reddened skin. “God, you're so fucking beautiful. You're taking it so good. Cum for me. Go on.” He quickened the pace of his hand on Hannibal's cock and teased his thumb over the slit, continuing to pound into him. “Make a mess for me, baby,” Will whispered into Hannibal's ear, before sinking his teeth into the lobe. Hannibal gasped and came with a shudder, eyes clenched tightly shut as he spilled over Will's hand. “Jesus, you are so fucking hot,” Will growled. He lifted his hand to his lips to taste Hannibal's salty sweet cum. A few short thrusts later, he came inside Hannibal, biting down on his nape to anchor himself through the aftershocks.

   For a stretch of time, they simply floated, their world reduced to the sounds of their harsh breathing and the feeling of their bodies melded together. Will licked over the bite mark on Hannibal's neck and feathered soft kisses down the side of his throat, before pulling out of him and stepping back. Hannibal whimpered at the loss of Will's heat and the fullness of his cock inside of him.

    “Shhh,” Will soothed him, as he unclasped the handcuffs and rubbed gently over the chafed skin. He pulled Hannibal up into his arms and spun him around, leaning his forehead against Hannibal's. “That was…incredible,” he breathed, “I think the uniform will have to make an encore at some point.” Then, he tilted his head thoughtfully.“You OK?” Will's brow furrowed as his thumb traced over the trail of dried blood from Hannibal's nose. “Sorry if I got carried away.”

      Hannibal smiled and pressed a brief kiss to Will's lips. “It was wonderful, Will. Trust me, I would have let you know if it was too much. I adore your savagery, darling.”

  Will flushed and smiled crookedly. “God, Hannibal,” he breathed, burying his face in Hannibal's chest.

   With the use of his hands regained, Hannibal gleefully petted through Will's sweat soaked curls. He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, marveling at the miracle that he'd finally found someone who could match him in both violence and tenderness. “You’re perfect. Radiant,” he murmured, tilting Will's face up to kiss him deeply. I love you perched in his throat, ready to soar through his lips, but Hannibal swallowed it down. He was a patient man, and such fateful declarations could wait until they were on steadier ground. His helpless adoration of Will was no doubt unshakable. But his pride couldn’t take it if Will’s feelings weren’t the same. If he revealed himself to be Jack’s trump card, in the end.

   When they finally parted to breathe, Hannibal traced a hand over Will's chest, stroking the embroidered surname and the glinting badge. “I hope you didn't treat all of your suspects that way, Officer Graham. Should I be jealous?” he teased.  

   Will huffed and rolled his eyes. “I'll have you know, I was a damn good cop. I took the code of ethics quite seriously. And I cared a hell of a lot about my job. Thank you very much, Doctor Lecter.” He jutted his jaw out defiantly, and Hannibal couldn't help chucking him under the chin fondly.

    “Yes, you are overzealous in your work, Agent Graham. I hope this has helped you learn the value of play. Now, shall we shower?”

   Will nodded emphatically. “You wanna go for round two?” he asked almost shyly, shooting a coy glance at Hannibal from under the tangle of curls falling in his eyes.

  Hannibal pulled him into a tight embrace. “Now that I'm free to, I don't think it would possible to stop myself from touching every inch of you,” he whispered into Will's ear, delighting in the trembling it produced.

  Will twined his fingers in Hannibal's and they made their way up the stairs slowly, pausing often to kiss and paw at each other, leaving a trail of shed clothing as they went.