The Smoke [Hannigram]

Chapter 9. Love Is An Avenue Where Life And Death Kiss

I'll be your liquor
Bathing your soul in juice that's pure
I'll be your anchor
You'll never leave these shores that cure
Well, I've seen you suffer
I've seen you cry for days and days

So I'll be your liquor
Demons will drown and float away

Will's breath hitched, trapped in the volcano erupted in his lungs, when Hannibal sank to the floor unceremoniously and looked up at his face, gaze full of passion, light in the maroon irises eclipsed completely by the heavy need—the pull way too strong to maintain composure. Hannibal pressed his flushed cheek against the other's crotch, then sighed quietly and closed his eyes for a brief moment. A mesmerising sight to witness, destined to be drawn with red ink, sewn into the transparent lining of Will's skin. It was meant to haunt, meant to hurt. And the brunet couldn't fight the compulsion as he put his hand on Hannibal's head, not pressing his face more against himself, but not trying to draw it away either. A light pressure; steady anchor to preserve the continuum of touch, the great order of interfusion between the flesh in want.

Will stared down at the man kneeling in front of him on the verge of submission. It made his blood race fast and skin itch, all the receptors confused and fuelled with pure excitement to have this feral creature, a predator, in such a pose. It reminded him of that eventful day from a few months ago when Hannibal had done the same, but then he started tasting his bare skin, kissing the scar of his own designing over and over. He had cried that day, Will's memory completed the picture. Will hoped it wasn't the case now because he wasn't ready for the mighty sorrow or sentimental truths of past mistakes and glory that followed. He'd rather stay standing like this, trembling, his cock painfully hard, his body eager to feel. Anticipating. He adored the suffering of the whole process wholeheartedly—the strenuous lust crippling his insides from somewhere deep within, not completed, not executed yet, still denied. It wasn't clear what exact part of his body felt it the most, and where the pain truly began, through which path it travelled, or where it ceased to hurt in order to bring pleasure. The sensations were scattered and dissolved, split and not leaving any chance of finding out the primal source. They reverberated through Will like an echo of a very important calling. Like church bells from a remote location pleading in the unyielding wavelength to come by their chapel and stay for a holy mass. Was it a call to pray for sins or to beg for forgiveness in advance?

"Please." Will heard a weak noise, strained, followed by the hard swallowing, as he was studying the sweet maroon paradise relentlessly. "May I have you in my mouth?"

A shallow breath escaped Will as he heard the polite tone of such an obscene proposal. He parted his lips but no words came out. The sharp feeling of pulsing pain and pleasure in his crotch tested his ability to speak for a second. With pupils dilated, Will stroked Hannibal's lips gently with his thumb, curious to taste the shape, the touch so tender it was on the edge of teasing. He probably didn't need to say anything because the other certainly knew the answer, and he could read it from Will's face as he would read it from an open book. There was no alternative reality in any universe in which any version of Will would say no. It was always going to be yes, to everything the other man would whisper.

"You may," Will replied eventually, voice soaked in crude craving, the urge to unleash aggression brought close to the surface.

Hannibal was not patient today. With a quick flick of his hands, he pulled Will's trousers and underwear down till the clothes dropped low to his feet. A gentle caress of slick fingers applied directly to his thighs sent hundreds of shivers down the brunet's back. Hannibal opened his mouth and swallowed Will almost wholly at once, his cheeks hollowed out. Will looked down at him, blood boiling.

A beautiful picture of lusty greed.

Before Will thought about it consciously, he was already clutching Hannibal's hair and twisting soft silvery strands in his fingers. In response, Hannibal ran his hand down the other's backbone, and Will arched at the touch. The man wrapped his warm lips around the tip of Will's cock and put little kisses there teasingly. Will only clenched his teeth, the tension building inside his muscles. He could pull the other's hair to give him a silent command, and he felt a quiet sense of power running through his whole being at the thought. He was in charge. Will didn't do anything, though, not yet, letting Hannibal meet his needs with every touch, and gasped loudly as he felt softness tightening around him. While Will started throbbing and pulsing more, Hannibal's hot tongue licked him slowly from the base to the tip. Seconds were being stretched to neverending forever.