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Sometimes it’s hard to understand, sometimes, neither of them understand what's happening and it's quite frustrating, mostly for Hannibal. How can he love someone like him ? How can this feeling even be possible ? How can it be that strong ? Will is everything he hates, everything that disgust him ; a man, so simple, so in the crowd. A man like Will could never have attracted him. And, yet, it happened. Suddenly, Will is all he wanted, all he ever wanted.Will in his house, Will in his kitchen, Will in his bedroom, Will in his bed… Will between his sheets, Will against him. It’s as if that man had bewitched the great Dr Lecter, with ropes and candles. The heart of Hannibal is tied, broken, he is too many things to survive without Will nearest him. Hannibal wanted Will to scream in his sheets, to tell him how he loved him, how he wanted him. He wanted to feel the body of Will bursting beside him, to taste his tears, to meet everything on his body. He wanted the body of Will just for him. He wanted Will to belong to him.
And he wanted him to know…
reblog !!
just a draft of hannigram I found in my docs, English is not my first language ¡
With Hannibal and Will sex is always an intense thing, it's rare that it happens, but they have learned to devour each other with their eyes, to make love to each other with words, gestures, smiles, looks. So they don't necessarily need the taste of pure flesh. When one wants something, they just let it be known by words, or a sudden rapprochement. It's often Will who asks, because he's the one who is the most dependent. Hannibal likes to stop during the day or evening, on the couch and touch Will until he makes him cum, simply with his hands and sometimes without touching his crotch. He plays with him, he drives him crazy. He simply goes until the last drop, and stops. Sometimes he doesn't even go all the way, when Will asks him, when he doesn't want to come, not to go any further.
reblog !!
excerpt of another hannigra draft ( it's in french, maybe i'll translate later ! )
“ Je ne t'ai jamais aimé ! “ les mots résonnaient comme un gros mensonge dans la bouche d’un enfant. Emplit d'une détresse absolue et d’une peine incurable. Il était bien trop blessé pour pouvoir dire autre chose qu’un mensonge. Il était au fond du gouffre. Et, il ne pourrait probablement jamais en ressortir. Un sourire s’étala sur le visage de son souffre douleur. Hannibal se rapprocha de lui doucement, effleurant sa joue d'une main. Will était incapable de bouger, le souffle court. Il avait dépensé toute son énergie dans des mots qui n’avaient eu aucun impact sur l'homme en face de lui. “ Tu mens “ Will ferma les yeux, essayant d’ignorer le frisson brutal qui venait de traverser sa colonne vertébrale. Il releva le menton, ses pupilles dilatées refusant de voir la réalité en face. Il n’aimait pas Hannibal. Il ne mentait pas. “ Tu te voiles la face mon beau Will “ chuchota le balte, augmentant la proximité entre eux deux. Son sourire horripilant toujours plaqué sur le visage “ Ce n’est… pas… vrai. “ articula difficilement Will, rouvrant les yeux pour les poser sur le visage de son trouble paix. Il refusait de l’admettre. Hannibal avait foutu sa vie en l’air, pourquoi lui ferait-il le plaisir de lui faire entendre ce qu'il voulait ?