Will reaches out a tentative hand to cup Hannibal’s cheek, drawing his thumb across his mouth, dragging it through the blood staining his lower lip. xxx18 Will is shaking, his breath coming in ragged gulps as he writhes on the barber’s chair. Will lifts his face, opening his mouth more for Hannibal’s exploration, encouraged by the small moans coming from his throat. His body is clenching, desperate for relief and for Hannibal’s cock. With a deep breath, Hannibal withdraws from Will’s warmth, leaning back, searching his expression for some sign of acceptance. Hannibal lets out a primitive snarl, taking the flesh of Will’s shoulder fiercely between his teeth, biting down hard enough to reopen the wound at his neck that has clotted.
