#mirror fun

Hannibal lays on the bed reading some tedious article Miss Lounds published on TattleCrime about how the infamous ‘Murder Husbands’ must be on some rampage or another in some rich European country with fake names and accents and the justice of eating the rude. Hannibal sighs as he lays his iPad down on the nightstand when he hears the door open to the ensuite. 

Will stands in the doorway, almost like a present, wearing a royal blue robe Hannibal bought him on their last tour in Italy. He can hear Hannibal purr, a sound deep in his throat that makes Will ache with want and yearning. His cock twitches and he can tell Hannibal’s eyes focused on that particular part of his anatomy. 

“It seems to fit.” He all but whispers to Hannibal, who he knows is staring at him with wanton eyes. 

“It fits very well, dear boy. You are a vision to behold.” Hannibal simply admires from his place on the bed, one hand propped under his head as Will stands there, robe open in the front, belt loosely tied around his waist. The scar on his stomach peeks out, the skin now only slightly pink, no longer angry. Hannibal lavished many kisses upon that scar.

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