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Will Graham grew up very much alone and as far as he could recall he'd been anxious about anything sexual. He was in his late thirties when he met Hannibal Lecter. Being of the same loneliness as the Doctor they quickly grew intimate.
Three days after they had begun to cohabit (after a period of convalescence from a tremendous fall off a cliff onto jagged rocks and seething sea foam) Will and Hannibal were alone in their villa in X. Hannibal wore tight dark grey slacks and a well fitted purple shirt that pulled nicely around his thick chest and modest belly. Will began to realize as he looked that Hannibal might share his anxiety and felt even more anxious that day because he hoped he would be stark naked under his trousers.
Hannibal had shapely pale bare feet that skimmed the stone floor as he sat in the kitchen. He unfolded his legs but Will was unable to see the outline of his cock (this name, which he always used with Hannibal, was, he thought, by far the loveliest of names for the penis). It merely struck him that by slightly shifting the man's position, he might see his private parts pressed tight against the fabric.
In the corner of the kitchen there was a saucer of milk for the dogs. “Did Cleopatra really bathe in milk to stay youthful?” asked Will. “Do you dare me to sit in the saucer?”
“I dare you.” Hannibal answered without pause.
It was a bright day with a fierce heat. Will placed the saucer on the small bench out back by the garden of cultivated herbs. With eyes fixed on Hannibal he took down his shorts and sat in the cool milk. The blood shot straight to Hannibal's head and he stood with a telling stillness, immobile, as Will eyed his stiff cock bulging in his trousers. Then, Hannibal laid down at Will's feet without him stirring and for the first time saw his pink and dark flesh cooling in the white milk. They remained motionless, both equally shocked and at a loss.
Will got up and Hannibal saw milk dripping lavishly down Will's thighs. He wiped himself with a handkerchief and stood over Hannibal's head with one foot up on the small bench. Hannibal vigorously rubbed his own cock through his trousers while writhing on the floor. Will did the same and they reached orgasm at almost the same instant without even touching one another. Later, when one of the hounds came inside, Hannibal was sitting in a low armchair. He took advantage of the moment when Will tenderly snuggled in the animals fur: he thrust his hand under his shorts and rubbed at Will's ass between his two burning thighs.
That night, Will moved quickly to his own room, eager to masturbate again. The next morning there were such dark rings around his eyes that Hannibal, after peering at him for a while, buried his head in Will's shoulder and said earnestly: “I don't want you to masturbate any more without me.”
A love life started between Will and Hannibal that was so intimate and so intense they they could hardly lock eyes without engaging in debauchery. And yet they hardly ever discussed it. Will realized Hannibal's feelings at seeing him were the same as his own at seeing Hannibal but found it difficult to have things out.
One day, when they were in a car tootling along at top speed, they crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl with dark hair and pale skin. Her head was almost totally torn off by the wheels. For a long time they were parked a few yards beyond without getting out, fully absorbed in the sight of the corpse. The horror and despair at so much bloody flesh, nauseating in part, and in part very beautiful, was fairly equivalent to their usual impression upon seeing one another.
Will was fairly petite and despite his facial scar, very lovely. (in fact Hannibal often mentioned how beautiful the new scar made him, much to Will's disagreement) He was usually natural; there was nothing heartbreaking in his eyes or his voice any more. But on a sensual level, Hannibal knew that he so desperately craved any upheaval that the faintest call from the senses gave him a look directly suggestive of all things linked to deep sexuality, such as blood, suffocation, sudden terror, crime; things indefinitely destroying human bliss and honesty. All the time they had shared before was contained in the multitude of their small lives here now in X.
Hannibal first saw him mute and in absolute rapture (which he shared) the day they slaughtered Francis Dolarhyde, or the day he sat down in the saucer of milk. True, they only exchanged fixed stares at analogous moments. Will had always been shy of eye contact. But they never calmed down or played except in the brief relaxed minutes after an orgasm.
They waited a long time before copulating. They merely took their opportunities to indulge in unusual acts. They did not lack modesty – on the contrary – but something urgently drove them to defy modesty together alone as immodestly as possible.
That was the period when Will developed a whimsical mania for breaking eggs with his behind. He would do a sort of headstand on an armchair in the parlor, his back against the chair's back, his legs bent towards Hannibal while he jerked off in order to cum in Will's face. Hannibal would put the egg right on the hole in his arse, and Will would skilfully amuse himself by shaking it in the deep crack of his buttocks. The moment Hannibal's release shot out and trickled down his eyes, Will's buttocks would squeeze together and he would cum copiously while Hannibal smeared his face abundantly in his ass.
Sometimes, while about the garden alone together, Will would lay himself out on the grass and plead for Hannibal to piss upon his body. What else could he do but as his beloved asked. On other occasions, Will would urinate while Hannibal watched, pissing his white shorts yellow in the hot sun while Hannibal prepared dinner on the patio.
They had both taken, with curious trepidation, to bullfights which took place twice monthly in X. The first bull they saw together, the one whose balls Hannibal looked forward to having served raw on a plate, was a kind of huge black monster, who shot out of the pen so quickly that despite all the efforts and all the shouts, disemboweled three unfortunate horses in a row before an orderly fight could take place; one horse and rider were hurled aloft together, loudly crashing down behind the horns.
When the star matador, Granero, faced the bull, the combat was thick with all the drama and life of the opera, proceeding amid a frenzy of cheers. The young man sent the furious beast rallying around him in his pink cape; each time, his body was lifted by a sort of spiraling jest, and he just barely eluded a frightful impact. In the end, the death of the solar monster was performed cleanly, with the beast blinded by the scrap of red cloth, the sword driven deep in the blood-smeared body. An incredible ovation resounded as the bull staggered to its knees with the uncertainty of a drunkard, collapsed with its legs sticking up, and died.
Hannibal, who sat next to Will, witnessed the killing with an exhilaration at least equal to Will's and he refused to sit down again when the acclamation for the young man was over. He took Will's hand wordlessly and led him to the courtyard of the filthy arena, where the stench of equine urine was suffocating because of the great heat. He grabbed Will's cock and Will in turn seized Hannibal's furious erection through his trousers. They stepped into the stinking shithouse, where sordid flies whirled about in a sunbeam. They were reminded of a night years ago when they had shared blood lust and fear, a man emerging from death, Hannibal's hand upon Will's, assuring and whispering secret truths into his soft open ear. Standing there, Hannibal exposed Will's ass and into his blood-pink, slippery flesh he stuck wetted fingers, then his cock, which entered that cavern of blood while he jerked Will off. Hannibal squeezed his shaft hard, almost punishing. At the same time, the roofs of their mouths cleaved together in a storm of teeth and drool.
A bull's orgasm is not more powerful than the one that wrenched through their bodies to tear them to shreds, Hannibal's thick penis ticked and throbbed greedily in Will's stuffed ass, which was gorged so lovingly with cum.
Their hearts still boomed in their chests, which were equally burning to press stark naked against wet unslaked hands, and Will's wet hole was still as greedy as before and Hannibal's cock stubbornly rigid, as they returned to the first row of the arena. But when they arrived at their places, there, in broad sunlight, on Will's seat, lay a white dish containing two peeled balls, the size and shape of eggs, and of a pearly whiteness, faintly bloodshot, like the globe of an eye: they had just been removed from the first bull, a black-haired creature, into whose thick neck Granero, the matador, had plunged his sword.
Will was already kneeling before the plate, peering at it in open interest, but also in puzzlement. It seemed he wanted to do something but didn't know how to go about it, which exasperated him. Hannibal picked up the dish to let him sit down, but Will grabbed it away from him with a categorical “no” and returned it to the stone seat.
Hannibal leaned over and whispered to Will, asking him what the matter was.
“Idiot.” He replied. “Can't you see I want to sit on the plate, but all these people are watching.”
“That's absolutely out of the question,” he replied, “please sit down.”
At the same time, Hannibal took away the dish and made him sit, and he stared at Will to let him know that he understood, that he remembered the dish of milk, the night in the stable, the death on the cliff, and that this renewed desire was unsettling those around them. From that moment on, neither of them could keep from fidgeting, and their shared malaise was contagious enough to effect other members of the audience.
It ought to be said that the fight had become boring, unimpressive bulls were facing matadors who didn't know what they were doing; and to top it off, since Will had demanded seats in the sun, they were trapped in something like an immense vapor of light and muggy heat, which parched their throats as it bore down upon them.
It really was totally out of the question for Will to lower his shorts and place his bare (now raw) behind in the dish of balls. All he could do was hold the dish in his lap. Hannibal told him he would like to fuck again before Granero returned to fight the fourth bull, but he refused, he sat there, keenly involved, despite everything, in the disembowelment of horses, followed, as he childishly put it, by “death and destruction”.
The events that followed were without transition or connection, not because they weren't actually related, but because Hannibal's attention was so absent as to remain absolutely dissociated. In just a few seconds; first, Will bit fiercely into one of the raw balls, fluid dribbled down his chin, to Hannibal's rapture; then Granero advanced towards the bull, waving his scarlet cloth; finally, almost at once, Will, with a blood red face and a suffocating lewdness, pulled his shorts down his small tan thighs, baring his loose, wet hole, into which he slowly and surely fitted the second pale globule – Granero was thrown back by the bull and wedged against the fence; the horn struck the balustrade three times at full speed; at the third blow, one horn plunged into the right eye and through the head. A shriek of unmeasured horror coincided with a brief orgasm from Will, who was lifted up from the stone seat only to be flung back with a bleeding nose, under the blinding sun; men instantly rushed over to haul away Granero's body, the right eye dangling from the head.
The next day they accompanied each other to the capital,where they found an even more liquefying heat and light than in X. A lavish abundance of flowers in the streets, geraniums and rose laurels, helped to put their senses on edge.
Will walked about naked under white cotton shorts that were flimsy enough to hint at his ass underneath and in certain positions, even his cock. Furthermore, everything in the city contributed to making him radiate such sensuality that when they passed through the torrid streets, Hannibal often saw cocks stretching trousers.
Indeed, they virtually never stopped having sex. They avoided orgasms and they went sight-seeing, for this was the only way to keep from having Hannibal's penis endlessly immersed in Will's flesh. But they did take advantage of any opportunities when they were out. They would leave one convenient place with never any goal but to find another like it. An empty museum room, a stairway, a garden path lined with high bushes, an open church, deserted alleys in the evenings – they walked until they found the right place, and the instant they found it, Hannibal would open and wet Will's body, lift one of his legs and shove his cock to the bottom of his ass in one push. A few moments later, he would pull out and their promenade would continue almost aimlessly.
After a while, they both happened upon a soul who had committed the most dreadful of crimes. The most unspeakable. They had followed him in silent and secret astral communication for a long time, finally seizing him when he was alone at home, as he had his own very young victims.
“Wretches. Thieves.” the man spoke, shocked at being caught in his own house. “the police, I'll call the police, they'll be here any minute.”
A ferocious grimace, a shaking like that of a cornered animal.
“Poor fool.” Will smirked. “Do you think we are going to let you wait that long?”
The idiot gaped dumbstruck at the two: a silly expression darted across his face. Something like joy began to open his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest and finally gazed at them with ecstatic eyes. “Martyrdom.” He uttered in a voice akin to a sob. “Martyrdom.” A bizarre hope of purification had come to the wretch, illuminating his eyes.
“First I am going to tell you a story,” Hannibal said to him sedately. “You know that men who are hanged or garroted have such stiff cocks that the instant their respiration is cut off, that they ejaculate. You are going to be martyred while fucking my husband.”
When the horrified man rose to defend himself, Hannibal brutally knocked him down, twisting his arm.
Next, Hannibal, slipping under behind his victim, pinioned his arms at his back while Will gagged him and bound his legs with a belt. Binding his wrists with an old tie, Hannibal disabled the man's legs with one kick, leaving him writhing on the floor. With no real effort, Hannibal kept the man's head still between his thighs.
“And now.” Hannibal said to Will. “Mount this monster.”
Removing his trousers, bare beneath, Will straddled the man, tore down his clothes and held himself above a sad and flabby looking cock.
“Now, Will. Squeeze his throat, the pipe just behind the Adam's apple: strong and gradual pressure.”
Will squeezed, a violent shudder ran through the mute, fully immobilized body, and the cock stood on end. Hannibal took it into his hand and had no trouble fitting it into Will's readied hole, while he continued to squeeze the throat.
Utterly intoxicated by the act, Will kept wrenching the sad little length in and out of his ass, atop the body whose bones were cracking violently in both of their formidable strangleholds.
At last, Will squeezed so resolutely that an even more violent thrill shot through his victim, and he felt the cum shoot inside his ass. Now, he let go and collapsed backwards in joy.
He lay on the floor, his belly up, his thighs smeared by dead man's sperm which had trickled from his hole. Hannibal stretched out at his side to fuck him in turn but all he could do was squeeze him in his arms and kiss his mouth because of his love for Will and the death of the unspeakable creature. He had never been so content.
“Hannibal,” Will said, rubbing his cheek gently on his shoulder, “I want you to do something.”
Will made him come over to the corpse: he knelt down and shooed away a fly that had landed on the it's face. He completely opened one of the monster's eyes.
“Do you see the eye?” He asked.
“Well?”
“It's an egg.” He concluded in all simplicity.
“All right.” Hannibal urged him, confused. “What are you getting at?”
“I want to play with this eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen, Hannibal,” he finally let out, “you must give me this, tear it out, I want it.”
Hannibal removed a knife from his wallet, knelt down, then nimbly inserted the fingers of his left hand into the socket and drew out the eye, while his right hand cut the obstinate ligaments. Next, he presented the small whitish eyeball in a hand reddened with blood.
Will gazed at it and finally took it in his hand, completely distraught, yet he had no qualms, and instantly amused himself by fondling the depth of his thighs and inserting this apparently fluid object. The caress of the eye over the skin was so utter, so extraordinarily gentle, and the sensation so bizarre that it had something of a rooster's horrible crowing.
Will amused himself by slipping the eye into the crevice of his ass, and after laying down on his back and raising his legs and bottom, he tried to keep the eye there simply by squeezing his muscles together. But all at once, it spat out like a stone plucked from a cherry, and dropped on the thin belly of the corpse, an inch or so away from the cock.
In the meantime, Hannibal had undressed himself so that he could pounce stark naked on the crouching body of his husband; his entire cock vanished in on lunge into Will's body. He fucked him hard while he played with the eye, rolling it all over the contours of Will's body. Over a nipple, under his armpit, over the back of his neck.
“Put it up my ass.” Will pleaded.
Hannibal could hardly pull himself from the steaming body of his lover but finally Will left him, grabbed the beautiful eyeball from his hands and with a staid and regular pressure from his hands, slid the slobbery flesh into himself. And then he promptly drew Hannibal over, clutching at his neck and smashed his lips on Hannibal's own so forcefully that he came without touching him and his cum shot all over Will's body.
Now, Hannibal stood up and, while Will lay on his side, he drew his thighs apart and found himself facing something he imagine he had been waiting for the way that a guillotine waits for a neck to slice. Will's ecstatic sobs helped give the dreamy vision a disastrous sadness. He even felt as though his eyes were bulging from his head, erectile with horror; in Will's hairy ass, he saw the wan blue eye of Abigail Hobbs, gazing at him through tears of cum.