Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10713369.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hannibal_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Will_Graham/Hannibal_Lecter
  Additional Tags:
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Hannibal_is_in_his_40's, Rough_Biker_Hannibal,
      Anal_Sex, Rimming, Roughness, will_is_a_brat, Discussion_of_severely
      underage_sex, Discussion_of_paedophilia, Implied/Referenced_Drug_Use,
      Swearing, Feminization, An_almost_blowjob, Will_is_perhaps_15..., the
      consensual_element_wanders_into_dubcon_I_think, given_that_we're_basing
      consent_on_conscious_and_practiced_intention_rather_than_legal_age
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-23 Completed: 2017-04-24 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 2558
****** Aidos ******
by octaviamatilda
Summary
     Will is precocious. Hannibal is a creature of keenest advantage.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** 1 *****
Hannibal withdrew his tongue from the sweat soft skin of the young flesh
writhing against the bare cement pillar. Under the hyper saturation of the
blue-green lights, the onslaught of the strobing and the bass thud, he thought
it had been a girl; after a few whiskeys and a nose full of powder, they all
smelt the same, tasted the same. No matter. The thin limbed boy, delicate as a
gazelle in his extremities, heaved against him, trying to pull them flush from
throat to groin. He made the right sounds – kitten mewls and sweet gasps – and
his arms and legs knocked deliciously at wrist and ankle, so fine boned was he.
But his chest was broadening with testosterone. It met Hannibal’s bulk nearly
exact. The boy was too old. Hannibal began to pull back, already allowing his
gaze to wander over the sea of bodies that churned in the dark.
Immediately, he met a pair of eyes; still, large and liquid. The young creature
to which they belonged was fucking astonishing. A few metres away in the murk,
the beautiful thing was at pause – calm and deliberate. Not an animal trapped
in headlights, but a fine piece of jailbait pleased to be caught looking.
Hannibal pushed off from the pillar, offering no excuse. He wiped his mouth on
the back of his hand, never breaking gaze with the sweet cunt waiting for him.
As he drew closer, cutting like a shark through the gloom, Hannibal felt his
cock pulse in gratification. A boy. A beautiful boy. Nowhere near old enough to
be in a club like this, which meant this was the perfect place for him.
Before him now, a few inches separating them, the boy smiled. Plush red lips,
dark curls damp with sweat, delicate jaw and wet, thick-fringed eyes. A girl
child – soft and tender as lamb’s wool – in one blink, and a boy – supple, ripe
as a peach – in the next. Hannibal would not let this one escape him. He didn’t
get the chance to speak first.
‘I’m Will.’ He was steady; flushed but unhurried, clear. If he’d been drinking,
it didn’t show. Hannibal had no doubt he could charm a round of drinks out of
anyone he chose.
‘Hannibal.’ He took a step closer. Will’s nose only came to his collarbone.
‘Well then, Will. Are you here alone?’
A glistening tongue took his bottom lip into his mouth. It reappeared shining,
beet-red in the darkness. ‘Not any longer.’ Will tilted his head up, holding
Hannibal’s charcoal stare as his slim fingers crept up along the thick waist
beneath the open leather jacket. Silvered hair feathered down over Hannibal’s
forehead; he loomed – cigarette smoke, strong spirits, leather – and pressed a
muscled thigh between Will’s own slim legs. He steadied the boy with a firm
hand on the side of his marble neck.
‘Do you live nearby?’ Hannibal rumbled, almost pushing the question into Will’s
mouth.
‘Why? Do you want to meet my parents? I don’t think they’d like you.’
Hannibal’s cock twitched at the breathy laugh that Will puffed across his lips.
‘How old are you?’ The answer would make no difference.
Will dropped his gaze to Hannibal’s broad chest, then looked up through his
lashes. ‘Is your place close by?’
Little fucking tart.
Hannibal pushed, lifted his thigh a little; he felt Will grind against it,
looking for heat and pressure through two layers of denim. The small noise in
the back of the slim throat made Hannibal want to bend Will, force him down,
split him open.
Hannibal dropped his mouth to Will’s bony shoulder, rasping his sharp teeth
along the nobbly rise barely concealed beneath an over-worn soft tee. Up to his
neck, then, finally catching the taste of fledgling skin by dragging his tongue
heavy and wet up to Will’s ear.
‘Do you like bikes?’
***** Chapter 2 *****
The ride was a blind, black stride from the depths of the basement club to
Hannibal’s apartment. Will didn’t know where he was. He wasn’t worried in the
least. His parents believed he was staying at the house of his best friend, a
darling slut who covered his back as he covered hers, and he knew -knew in his
deepest, reddest core - that Hannibal would want him again. And again. And
again. And for that, he would have to be delivered safely to his destination of
choice afterwards.
Will ambled through Hannibal’s front door, surprised at being left unmolested
as he did so. The living space was un-dark in the way only a night city could
make it; the curtains were left undrawn and garish lamplight from the street
limned an irregular rectangle on the pale rug. Bright enough to taste by.
The lock snapped shut behind him. Will turned to the clink of keys thrown on
the side; Hannibal, dark and broad and leather jacket cast away, stood in the
doorway. Impassable. Will almost felt tempted to indulge in histrionics. His
prick hardened at the thought of what this man would do to him if he asked to
leave, if he begged, cried, screamed. One of them had hit him before; Will had
been served a vicious backhand when he’d gone too far with the teasing. He’d
laughed in delight with his own blood shining on his teeth and the stupid
fucker had panicked, thrown Will’s clothes back at him and bundled him into the
street babbling about not being that kind of man. They were all that kind of
man, more or less.
Will approached him, chin up, lips parted. He plastered himself to Hannibal’s
torso, mouthing at a heavily furred chest, the sensation pricking his lips and
the tip of his nose through the thin cotton shirt.
Hannibal growled, breathing in the saccharine sweat from the top of Will’s
head. He grasped the slim upper arms of the boy that rippled and sighed against
him, damp mouthed and hot skinned.
‘How old are you?’ Hannibal spoke into his curls, near snarling the demand.
Will gave a low sweet laugh. It pitched up into a gasp when Hannibal spun him
and laid him heavily against the door. He forced Will’s head up, a strong hand
beneath his jaw.
‘Is that it? That what you’re into – kiddies?’ The lewd, oily bravado on Will’s
face gave the older man pause. Hannibal gave Will a long steady look.
‘Some people are never ready for it, whatever their age. And others are ready
before the law allows. A good deal before, in certain cases.’ Hannibal showed
his teeth. He simply looked and looked. His silence spoke as it stretched on: I
am not beneath this and neither are you. ‘How long have you been doing this?’
Hannibal changed tack.
Will gave a tight grin and his eyes slid closed. When his gaze snapped back, it
was mock innocent; as false as it was, Hannibal’s gut clenched.
‘Long enough.’ Will surged against Hannibal, his willow-whip frame pushing off
from the counterpoint of the solid door behind him but not even knocking
Hannibal off balance. Strong thighs planted evenly kept him immovable as
ballast; he allowed the attempt, then roughly shoved the boy backwards. He
thunked against the wood, head and shoulders striking with surprising volume.
Hannibal was as rigid as iron in his jeans; while Will gulped and caught his
breath, blinked away the stars that had burst behind his eyes, Hannibal pushed
his groin, and again, and again, against the delicate cradle of the boy’s
pelvis. Will whined at the crushing pressure.
‘I’m 16.’ Will relented.
Hannibal stilled.
Will’s grin was obscene, teeth like pearls in the half-dark. ‘In seven months.’
Will choked out the last word on a laugh. His lips were raw and self-bitten,
waiting, gasping, for the older man’s bruise. Instead, Hannibal pressed his
open mouth to the boy’s neck, sucking the flesh, pulling red-purple blood to
the surface; he growled in his throat to hear, to feel, Will practically
purring. Before his quick tongue could cost him any dearer, Hannibal stopped
it: he stepped back to rip Will’s t-shirt over his head, yank his jeans down
his hips and force him, fist tightening in his curls, to toe off his shoes.
Will wore no underwear; his cock looked raw and desperate. In just his socks,
uneven on his razor blade shins, Hannibal pushed Will to his knees on the wire-
hair doormat. With one hand still clutched in soft curls, he opened the buckle
of his belt and his fly with the other. He pulled his prick free, heavy and
thick and uncut. Hannibal gazed down at the boy; his own breath was coming a
little faster now and patches of sweat marked out semi circles beneath his arms
and a deep arrow down the centre of his shirt. Will looked up, eyes shining and
tongue already out and panting.
The source of Hannibal’s infinite patience was drooling at his feet. He asked
again with unusual restraint. ‘How long have you been doing this?’
Will pushed up into Hannibal’s touch, roiling in his grip. ‘You really want to
know, don’t you? Fuck, you are into kids. I knew it when I saw you.’ He brought
his slick lips to within a hair’s breadth of the plump cock head in front of
him. His tongue flickered out and Hannibal’s eyelids shuttered for the briefest
instant. ‘Since I was 12.’ Will tried to nudge forward, mewled when he
couldn’t. ‘Since I convinced one of my dad’s friends to touch me at a dinner
party. He couldn’t believe his luck. He came in his pants before he even
managed to get a finger in me. I was disappointed.’
Hannibal canted his head, considering. Without warning, he pulled Will up, hand
on the back of his neck. He stumbled as he was shoved, not seeing where he was
going until he was upended onto a large bed. Sprawled face down, he panted as
strong hands pushed his slim thighs open, pulled his hips up into the air. He
dared not move as he listened to the rustle of Hannibal shucking his jeans
down, discarding his shirt and kicking away his boots.
Will waited, shivering with need. The bed dipped behind him.
‘Some are ready before the law allows. You’ve been getting men to fuck you
since before most boys even know what their prick is for.’
Will could only huff out a small laugh. ‘Men like you.’ He smiled into the
bedclothes.
‘Men like me.’ Hannibal echoed. ‘I’ve known hungry little sluts like you all my
life. And if I’d known you all yours, I wouldn’t have come in my pants like
your father’s friend.’
A blunt finger ghosted over Will’s furled hole. He gasped as it spasmed,
bringing his wrist to his mouth with a desire to sink his teeth into something.
There was a flash of humid breath on the back of his thigh, just at the join of
his ass.
‘Fuck, but you’re as soft as cream. And your cunt is the pinkest I’ve ever laid
eyes on.’ Hannibal rumbled against his skin.
Will shivered, groaned quietly and worked himself back, trying to push his ass
to Hannibal’s mouth. The heavy presence at his rear only grunted, immobilising
the boy’s hips with an iron grip. The brute could toss him like a ragdoll. Will
half wanted him to.
‘Don’t fucking move, princess. I want you where I can see you.’
A thick wet tongue rasped over Will’s hole. He couldn’t stop the wail that rose
from his throat; his eyes screwed shut as his mouth gaped open.
‘That’s it’, Hannibal spoke with his lips still pressed to Will’s tacky skin.
‘Let me hear it.’ He seemed to be murmuring to himself. ‘Always sweeter when
they cry.’
Another swipe of tongue; Will pulsed and his cock twitched beneath him.
‘Fucking old pervert.’ He gave a raw gust of laughter. ‘You’d have ruined me,
wouldn’t you? If you were my first.’
The scorch of Hannibal’s body suddenly enveloped him, the radiating bulk of
muscle and bone pressing down on Will’s softly curved back. His bird bone ribs
shuddered under the weight. Will was helpless, desperate to grind against the
boiling erection that laid heavy against his ass. Two broad fingers forced
their way into his mouth, compressing his tongue, searching for the wet silk
cavity of his throat. Saliva dribbled into the sheets.
‘Listen up.’ Hannibal’s muggy breath in his ear. ‘I don’t want to hear anything
but yes, no and your sweet fucking sobbing. And believe me, when I fill your
tight little cunt you won’t be able to do anything but cry. But right now, I
just want you to fucking listen.’ He murmured low and dangerous. ‘I don’t give
a shit what you think of me. I don’t care if you think I’m a pervert. All that
teasing, playing the fucking coquette, trying to get me to spill my worst
Lolita wet dream to you; it won’t work. I’ve fucked boys, girls. Older than
you, younger than you. Much younger than you.’ Hannibal viciously pinched
Will’s ear lobe between teeth. His gut lurched and he moaned softly. ‘And kids
like you…you always come to me. You want me to pull you apart and fucking open
you on my cock because no one else will. You see me and you know I’ll do it.
And I don’t fucking care how young you are, or however and for whatever fucking
reason you lie about your age. 12, 13…if you show me you want it, I’ll give it
to you.’
Hannibal removed his fingers from Will’s mouth, slick down to his palm with
saliva. Without hesitation, he reached back and shoved two fingers in Will’s
hole. The boy gave a genuine cry of pain, an indrawn breath and then a sob.
Hannibal pumped his fingers cruelly, twice, three times. Will bucked and
thrashed, moaning as he loosened. His knuckles were clenched white in the
bedsheets.
‘And I can hear,’ Hannibal continued, rumbling against Will’s back, ‘how much
you fucking want it.’
A broad hot hand scraped up Will’s neck and settled in his hair, pulling curls
straight and curving his throat up and out. Will gasped into the muffled quiet
of the room, shaking with pain and want. His cock still dripped red and swollen
beneath his tender belly. Hannibal stabilised himself, widening his knees and
pushing Will’s legs further apart. Preamble done with, Hannibal lined himself
up against Will’s hole and thrust, slow and unrelenting, sinking in halfway
before he stopped.
Will panted, trembling. His breath shivered on the air, high and frantic in
sharp complement to Hannibal’s low pleased grunts. The boy was so tight it was
almost painful to Hannibal. Almost. He sank in the last few inches, watching
Will’s body, raw and red, stretch around him. Will was sobbing now, breathing
like he had run a mile.
A coarse laugh. ‘You sure you still want it, princess?’ Hannibal snapped his
hips, shoving Will carelessly.
Will tried to nod, couldn’t, swallowed wetly and tried to engage his voice. ‘I
don’t- ye- yes.’
Hannibal laid himself low over Will, flattening him to the mattress. He pinned
his bony wrists in place by his head, deliberately chafing his stubble roughly
over Will’s soft cheek. ‘You don’t? Well it’s too late now, wouldn’t you say?’
End Notes
     Aidos. The Greek goddess of shame and reverence.
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