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delorita! x
One month later
Face leant against the door frame, breathing hard and feeling the ache in his almost healed ribs. His head was pounding, his legs were like jelly and his knee was sore, but, he looked at his watch, he’d done it, beaten yesterday’s time again.
With a huge effort, he pulled himself upright and stepped back into the house.
“Hey,” Hannibal called him from the lounge where he was sat reading the paper with his feet on the table. “How did you do?”
Face wandered in and let himself collapse onto the carpet, rolling onto his back and starting to stretch his leg muscles out. It gave him a warm glow inside to come back and find Hannibal waiting for him like this, knew the old guy had been watching out the window for him returning, would have had his own watch running so he knew when to expect Face back, exactly when to start worrying. But of course he didn’t want Face to know any of that, tried to hide how much he still worried, how much he thought Face was overdoing it, pushing himself too far, too fast, and Face loved him for it. Loved him more than he ever thought it would be possible to love another person.
“Ten seconds faster,” he replied, pulling his knee up to his chin and stretching it out again.
“Ten seconds? Wow, you’re really flying kid! You feel okay?” And there it was, that anxiety, hiding just below the surface of what should be a perfectly innocuous question.
“Knackered,” Face complained truthfully, “but I don’t hurt.” He let out a wry laugh, “Well, no more than usual anyway!” Ever since he’d talked to Sosa he’d stopped trying to con Hannibal, telling him the cuts and the breaks didn’t hurt, it was a waste of time, just like it was a waste of time to try and pretend his time with Yousafzai hadn’t left him with mental scars as well. And perversely, Hannibal fussed far less over him if he was brutally honest and catalogued every single ache, pain and terror, rather than if he tried to just gloss over them all.
Hannibal put his paper down and watched in silence as Face finished his stretches and then allowed his body to go lax, flopping back on the floor and tilting his head up to look at his boss, beautiful smile on his face. Smiling back, Hannibal got up from the sofa. “You want me to rub your muscles out?” he asked as he grabbed a pot from the mantelpiece and headed over to kneel between Face’s feet.
“Hmmmm,” was his only answer as he settled down and started undoing trainers.
Face closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles in anticipation of the boss’ massage. No one could do muscle rubs like the boss, anyone who’d ever been in his team knew that as, at one time or another, they’d all been in receipt of one. But the massages that Face had been enjoying since they’d got together were different, special, and he certainly hoped he was the only one in the world that Hannibal would touch like that.
He felt his shoes and then his socks removed, and instantly Hannibal’s hands were there, cooling his hot feet with a damp flannel that he knew the boss must have had ready and waiting for his return; then a towel, warm and dry, searching out every scrap of moisture from his skin, from between each toe and under the arch of his foot. Face jumped as he felt Hannibal’s finger stroke up the underside of his sole and a throaty chuckle met his ears, “Ticklish, boy?” he was asked.
“Get lost,” he mumbled good naturedly in reply, already feeling the lethargy in his limbs seeping into his mind.
Hannibal moved up, using the cream, a natural healing balm they’d ordered off the internet, smoothing it over the red scars and the odd stubborn wound that criss-crossed the tops of his feet and his calves. Face couldn’t help the long sigh he let out as the soothing cream dampened the fire that his sweat had started in the new skin and just relaxed, letting Hannibal take care of him.
Then those hands reached his knee and Face felt himself stiffen, anticipating the pain he would feel as Hannibal manoeuvred his barely healed torn ligaments. “Relax,” that deep voice soothed him, “I know where you hurt, trust me sweetheart,” and Face did, with his entire being and so he relaxed back into the carpet and let Hannibal’s fingers go to work, gently working in circles, just enough pressure to be felt, never enough to hurt all around the tender areas, helping his skin to absorb the cream, helping his body to heal itself.
And then he moved up. Face had found himself slipping towards sleep, but as soon as Hannibal’s hands slid north of his knees, certain parts of his body started to wake themselves up a bit. He let out another long sigh, but this time edged with a hint of frustration as he wished his body wouldn’t react this way to Hannibal’s touch, not now, not yet – it was too soon. There really was no real point to those body parts getting interested; he and Hannibal talked about this on numerous occasions and Face had told Hannibal that there was no way that he would be ready for anything like that until he was one hundred percent healed again. Hannibal had kissed him and told him it was absolutely fine, that he understood completely.
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the warmth that was pooling inside his shorts as Hannibal’s hands worked through the exhausted muscles of his thighs, rubbing and squeezing, kneading and smoothing, just as he needed it in every single spot. To be honest, he’d never gone so long without sex since he first lost his virginity, but he was in no rush at all to get back onto the wagon, so to speak; as time passed, his worries and concerns seemed to intensify rather than diminish. Yousafzai’s men had taken particular delight in beating his more intimate parts with their sticks and their whips and had returned there again and again for their own amusement. Face shuddered at the memory and hastily pushed it away as Hannibal, probably feeling the shudder, ran a soothing hand up to the bone of his hip and down again.
Despite the doctors telling him that everything was in perfect working order, and in fact, a couple of ‘practise runs’ on his own in the shower that had worked out just fine, Face still had lingering doubts about the effectiveness of his tackle in a real life situation. As long as Hannibal was happy to wait, then that was just fine by him.
Hannibal had moved to his chest now, sliding his running vest up and out of the way, fingers ghosting over some of the deeper wounds, still there, still sore, still healing, while his palm smoothed cream into the red lines which showed where the rest of the lacerations had been. He smoothed right down to the elastic of his shorts, but didn’t progress any further, instead taking Face’s upper arm in both his hands and massaging the muscles there, creeping down, further and further until his fingers were ringing the thin, red skin of his wrists, still showing the lines left by manacles and rope. Again the cream came out and this close to his nose, Face could smell the thyme oil it was scented with as Hannibal massaged it into the fresh new skin, before moving on to his other arm, giving the upper muscles the same treatment, fingers skimming over a still healing gash, and finishing off at his left wrist. And then he sat back.
Face kept his eyes closed but knew there was a smile on his face as he felt Hannibal’s knee just touching his ribs. “Fuck, boss,” he whispered, too boneless to move even a finger, “you are so good at that.”
He felt Hannibal’s laugh against him and then felt those fingers again, this time tracing gently around the elastic of his shorts and then, so, so carefully, sliding under and lifting the material away from Face’s abdomen, edging it downwards. His eyes flew open to find Hannibal staring at him, irises almost hidden by the black of his blown pupils.
“Boss?” he whispered, suddenly unsure of where this was going.
“I think it’s time, don’t you?” Hannibal whispered, his voice so low it seemed to zero straight in on Face’s cock.
“I... I...” Face had to swallow as his mouth was suddenly so dry, and in that second, Hannibal lifted his shorts away and down, bunching them up around his thighs, exposing his erection to the room.
For a second there was silence as both men looked down, Face just relieved that everything seemed to be in working order, Hannibal with an expression that could only be described as hunger. “Beautiful,” Hannibal whispered almost reverently as he trailed a single finger up the heated flesh, and then he turned to meet Face’s eyes, smiling as he took in the startled expression. “Don’t worry,” he whispered soothingly, finger now running back down again, “this will be fine, this will be perfect.”
But Face was far from convinced and sat up, his hand taking Hannibal’s wrist, holding it still, “I don’t think...”
Leaning in, Hannibal pressed a kiss to his lips, “I know what you are worried about,” he whispered, “and I know the longer we leave it, the more worried you will get. But I promise you, it will be fine.” Face just held his stare, anxiety leaking from every pore. Hannibal kissed him again, a little more forcefully this time and then dropped his gaze, “Look down,” he instructed, and almost against his own will Face did so, shuddering in anticipation as he saw Hannibal’s hand gently wrap around his cock and stroke it, up and down, up and down. He swallowed – hard. “See?” Hannibal reassured him, “Everything seems to be working just fine.”
For a few minutes they just huddled on the floor together and watched as Hannibal’s hand stroked slowly up and down. “All healed up,” Hannibal whispered again, and letting go with his hand, stroked a finger over one of the red scars, stretched and distorted by the swollen flesh, but still undeniably, healed. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” Face breathed, his heart pounding in his chest.
“This?” Hannibal asked again, tracing another red scar and this time Face could only shake his head. “Well, how about this?” he asked and this time his finger found the worst one, the gash that had cut into his testicles, both of them in one go, that must have been absolute agony to endure and had needed very careful stitching. But again Face only shook his head as Hannibal traced the thin red line not distorted the way those on his erection were. “See?” he whispered again, kissing just to the right of the gash on his temple “Perfect. Now, would you like to test it out? Properly?”
Face let out a long, shaky breath as Hannibal resumed his slow, slow pumping. “I’m just...” he whispered, eyes fixed on that hand. “I’m worried...”
“What sweetheart? That it will hurt when you slide into me?” Face had to close his eyes at that, knowing damn well that Hannibal was teasing him, but he still had concerns, still had worries.
“No. That the cuts will...” he tailed off once more and Hannibal had to swallow down his anger. If Yousafzai was not already dead, Hannibal would not rest until the bastard was rotting in hell.
“They won’t open up, sweetheart, they won’t.” Hannibal reassured him, “We asked the doctor, right? He said it would be fine.”
“Yes,” Face grumbled, “but we didn’t exactly specify where it would be going, did we?” he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation and could feel his cheeks flush red.
“I did,” Hannibal whispered, right into the shell of his ear and yet again Face had to close his eyes at the thoughts that produced.
“You didn’t...”
And there was that throaty chuckle, “Oh, I most certainly did.”
Face shook his head in embarrassment; he was so glad he hadn’t been there for that particular conversation, he’d never be able to look the doctor in the eye ever again as it was.
“So – we’re okay?”
“We’re okay.”
Silence fell once more as Face opened his eyes and watched Hannibal’s hand stroking him, slow and sure, firm but gentle, and it didn’t hurt at all, in fact it felt fucking amazing. “Okay,” he eventually whispered.
Hannibal’s hand paused for just a fraction of a second; “Okay?” he even sounded a little surprised. Face nodded. “Okay then, kiddo, let’s move this upstairs shall we?”
Face allowed himself to be tugged upright, but when he went to pull his shorts back up, Hannibal was there before him, looking him right in the eyes as he pulled them further down. “We won’t be needing these anymore tonight,” he growled in that same hot timbre and Face almost combusted on the spot. Then Hannibal took his hand and smiled at him before leading him towards the stairs wearing nothing but his running vest.
As soon as they entered the bedroom, though, Face froze, looking at the bed and wondering and going back a month in his head when he couldn’t even breathe without wanting to scream in pain. Instantly Hannibal was there again, “What kid? Tell me.”
“John,” Face whispered, past liaisons with both men and women flashing through his head with alarming speed, “I just don’t see how we can do this, I mean my knee and my ribs and-”
“Shhhh,” Hannibal leaned in and kissed him to reinforce his order and then pulled back again once he was sure Face would listen, “It’s okay, I’ve got it all planned out, it’ll be fine.”
“You have?” Yet again Face was stunned by the amount of planning Hannibal had obviously put into this.
“I have, so come here and kiss me,” Face didn’t even pause, completely happy in his trust of Hannibal and their lips found each other with the familiarity that five weeks of practice had given them, and as his arousal mounted, Face found his fears being pushed further and further back into a distant corner of his mind as Hannibal pushed them closer and closer to the bed.
Face’s running vest was stripped over his head and his own quick fingers instantly went to Hannibal’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over as well, moving straight to the buttons of his jeans where they scrabbled and tugged at the stiff denim. “Here, let me.” The throaty chuckle was back, and Face found himself wondering how in the hell Hannibal could be so damn relaxed about all of this. But he let Hannibal take over and stepped back out of the way, watching wide eyed as the boss slipped off his jeans, tugging his socks off in the same movement, before standing up and smiling at Face as he pulled down his white trunks.
By the time he’d straightened up again, as naked as the day he was born, Face had had enough of watching, He was straight in again, mouth on the boss’, hand straight onto that glorious cock and working him, slow and steady just as Hannibal had touched him downstairs.
For long minutes they stood like this, tongues entwined, hands stoking the fire higher and higher, but then Hannibal pulled away, breathing hard. “Kid,” he whispered, reaching into the drawer for an innocuous bottle of lube, “I have been waiting ten years for this moment with you, I really don’t think I can last another second.”
The burst of heat that sentence produced in Face’s heart was quickly followed by a similar blast in his groin and he could only gasp as a slicked up hand suddenly grabbed his cock and covered it with the warm lube, before Hannibal settled himself on the edge of the bed, feet on the carpet, legs spread wide, and lay back, smiling wickedly at Face, “I’m all yours, Temp, come and get me.”
Face had never moved so fast in his entire life. The bed was an old one, matched the antique feel of the house completely and so was a little higher than usual, perfect for Hannibal’s plans. He positioned himself in the gap between the boss’ legs and reached over for the lube, but Hannibal’s hand was there too fast and grabbed his wrist to stop him. Face looked up in confusion, “Boss, I-”
“Leave it,” Hannibal cut him off, smiling, “I’ve already done it.”
Face’s mouth literally fell open, “You planned this?”
For a second, Hannibal’s smile was as wide as his legs, a cocky retort on the edge of his lips but then it all fell away and a look of utmost seriousness replaced it. “Not planned,” he whispered, eyes wide, “but hoped. Wished for. Desired. I want you, beautiful boy, so, so much.”
Face just fell onto him, left arm holding him up on the bed as he stifled a hiss of pain at the ache in his ribs the move produced. His desperate mouth found Hannibal’s even as his right hand was groping about between them, trying to line himself up with Hannibal’s entrance.
Hannibal kissed back for all he was worth, gloriously ecstatic on every level that they were finally going to do this together. He slipped his own hand down as well, aware of Face’s desperate fumbling, he drew his knee up and took hold of his lieutenant’s wrist, guiding his hand to the right place, and just as he felt that hot, hard pressure right there, waiting, Face pulled out of the kiss and drew back, looking at him.
Keeping one hand on his wrist, Hannibal lifted the other to rest on Face’s cheek, “I swear to you, this will be fine.”
Face nodded, took a deep breath and pushed in.
It wasn’t fine, it was fucking amazing. Face had never felt anything like it in his entire life, the heat, the pressure, the love... The way that Hannibal was looking at him, so... reverent as if Face were the most precious thing in the entire universe. It was mind blowing. And of course it didn’t hurt, not at all, not anywhere in his whole body, in fact it was the exact opposite, it made him feel as if he were flying. He smiled at Hannibal, snapped his hips just a shade harder and almost came on the spot as Hannibal groaned, arching his back and pushing his head into the mattress, legs lifting up to wrap around Face’s waist.
“Oh, yes, kid, that’s the spot,” he moaned and Face was lost. Dropping down so that both hands were on the bed either side of Hannibal’s head, Face leaned in as far as he could and gave it everything he had. Hannibal moaned with every thrust, and Face, eyes wide and staring knew he had never seen anything as remotely erotic as that sight ever in his whole life. He watched transfixed as Hannibal’s head rolled from side to side, as his hands repeatedly gripped and released the covers, and then, just as he was sure that this whole experience couldn’t possible get any better, he watched as Hannibal’s eyes opened and fixed on his own blown pupils.
“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, the sounds going straight to Face’s straining cock, “I’m gonna come, Temp, just for you, watch me, watch me, kid...”
And Face looked down, thrusting desperately now, knowing that nothing in the world would ever be enough to make him stop and right in front of his wide, incredulous eyes, Hannibal came. Thick spurts of semen splashed out from the end of his cock, coating his chest and stomach and Face had never seen anything like it, never been invited to watch his partner come like that, noticed everything, every twitch, every pulse every jerk, and then he was following, eyes closing all by themselves, even as he tried to keep them open, head thrown back as he filled Hannibal with the evidence of his love.
Afterwards it was all a bit hazy. Face went from ecstasy to agony in half a second as his calf muscle cramped and he went down, wrenching his cock free as he fell. But Hannibal was there in an instant, somehow knowing what was wrong and lifting Face’s leg as he rolled on the floor, taking his foot and bending it up, pushing through the blinding pain to find the stretch that pulled all the pain out and then he let him down, rolled him to his side and spooned up behind him, pulling the sheet from the bed as they lay together, letting their heart beats settle.
Five minutes passed in silence before a single word was spoken.
“Sorry.”
But it came from both of them together, and Face turned in the circle of Hannibal’s arms, his forehead creased in a frown as he asked, “What have you got to be sorry for, boss?”
Hannibal smiled sadly and stroked Face’s cheek. “For rushing you into this, and I could ask you the self same question.”
Face returned the same smile, “For ballsing it all up.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t balls it up at all! It was incredible!”
“And you,” Face returned, placing his own hand on Hannibal’s cheek, “didn’t push me into anything.” Hannibal just raised his eyebrows at that and Face laughed, “Okay, well maybe you did. But,” he stopped Hannibal from dropping his gaze, made him keep eye contact, “I’m so glad you did. You’re right; it was getting worse with every day we didn’t do it. Time would have come when I’d have been so scared of what might happen you would never have convinced me to try...”
He looked so sad at those words that Hannibal leaned in and kissed him, firm, but gentle, reassuring him with his touch. “It would never have got to that point,” he whispered, “brave, brave boy that you are, but, well, I’m glad we didn’t wait any longer. I’ve wasted far too much of my time with you as it is.”
Face smiled, a real, happy smile this time as he leaned in for another kiss. Too much wasted time? Well, he knew exactly what he could do about that...
Final part
delorita! xOne month later
Face leant against the door frame, breathing hard and feeling the ache in his almost healed ribs. His head was pounding, his legs were like jelly and his knee was sore, but, he looked at his watch, he’d done it, beaten yesterday’s time again.
With a huge effort, he pulled himself upright and stepped back into the house.
“Hey,” Hannibal called him from the lounge where he was sat reading the paper with his feet on the table. “How did you do?”
Face wandered in and let himself collapse onto the carpet, rolling onto his back and starting to stretch his leg muscles out. It gave him a warm glow inside to come back and find Hannibal waiting for him like this, knew the old guy had been watching out the window for him returning, would have had his own watch running so he knew when to expect Face back, exactly when to start worrying. But of course he didn’t want Face to know any of that, tried to hide how much he still worried, how much he thought Face was overdoing it, pushing himself too far, too fast, and Face loved him for it. Loved him more than he ever thought it would be possible to love another person.
“Ten seconds faster,” he replied, pulling his knee up to his chin and stretching it out again.
“Ten seconds? Wow, you’re really flying kid! You feel okay?” And there it was, that anxiety, hiding just below the surface of what should be a perfectly innocuous question.
“Knackered,” Face complained truthfully, “but I don’t hurt.” He let out a wry laugh, “Well, no more than usual anyway!” Ever since he’d talked to Sosa he’d stopped trying to con Hannibal, telling him the cuts and the breaks didn’t hurt, it was a waste of time, just like it was a waste of time to try and pretend his time with Yousafzai hadn’t left him with mental scars as well. And perversely, Hannibal fussed far less over him if he was brutally honest and catalogued every single ache, pain and terror, rather than if he tried to just gloss over them all.
Hannibal put his paper down and watched in silence as Face finished his stretches and then allowed his body to go lax, flopping back on the floor and tilting his head up to look at his boss, beautiful smile on his face. Smiling back, Hannibal got up from the sofa. “You want me to rub your muscles out?” he asked as he grabbed a pot from the mantelpiece and headed over to kneel between Face’s feet.
“Hmmmm,” was his only answer as he settled down and started undoing trainers.
Face closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles in anticipation of the boss’ massage. No one could do muscle rubs like the boss, anyone who’d ever been in his team knew that as, at one time or another, they’d all been in receipt of one. But the massages that Face had been enjoying since they’d got together were different, special, and he certainly hoped he was the only one in the world that Hannibal would touch like that.
He felt his shoes and then his socks removed, and instantly Hannibal’s hands were there, cooling his hot feet with a damp flannel that he knew the boss must have had ready and waiting for his return; then a towel, warm and dry, searching out every scrap of moisture from his skin, from between each toe and under the arch of his foot. Face jumped as he felt Hannibal’s finger stroke up the underside of his sole and a throaty chuckle met his ears, “Ticklish, boy?” he was asked.
“Get lost,” he mumbled good naturedly in reply, already feeling the lethargy in his limbs seeping into his mind.
Hannibal moved up, using the cream, a natural healing balm they’d ordered off the internet, smoothing it over the red scars and the odd stubborn wound that criss-crossed the tops of his feet and his calves. Face couldn’t help the long sigh he let out as the soothing cream dampened the fire that his sweat had started in the new skin and just relaxed, letting Hannibal take care of him.
Then those hands reached his knee and Face felt himself stiffen, anticipating the pain he would feel as Hannibal manoeuvred his barely healed torn ligaments. “Relax,” that deep voice soothed him, “I know where you hurt, trust me sweetheart,” and Face did, with his entire being and so he relaxed back into the carpet and let Hannibal’s fingers go to work, gently working in circles, just enough pressure to be felt, never enough to hurt all around the tender areas, helping his skin to absorb the cream, helping his body to heal itself.
And then he moved up. Face had found himself slipping towards sleep, but as soon as Hannibal’s hands slid north of his knees, certain parts of his body started to wake themselves up a bit. He let out another long sigh, but this time edged with a hint of frustration as he wished his body wouldn’t react this way to Hannibal’s touch, not now, not yet – it was too soon. There really was no real point to those body parts getting interested; he and Hannibal talked about this on numerous occasions and Face had told Hannibal that there was no way that he would be ready for anything like that until he was one hundred percent healed again. Hannibal had kissed him and told him it was absolutely fine, that he understood completely.
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the warmth that was pooling inside his shorts as Hannibal’s hands worked through the exhausted muscles of his thighs, rubbing and squeezing, kneading and smoothing, just as he needed it in every single spot. To be honest, he’d never gone so long without sex since he first lost his virginity, but he was in no rush at all to get back onto the wagon, so to speak; as time passed, his worries and concerns seemed to intensify rather than diminish. Yousafzai’s men had taken particular delight in beating his more intimate parts with their sticks and their whips and had returned there again and again for their own amusement. Face shuddered at the memory and hastily pushed it away as Hannibal, probably feeling the shudder, ran a soothing hand up to the bone of his hip and down again.
Despite the doctors telling him that everything was in perfect working order, and in fact, a couple of ‘practise runs’ on his own in the shower that had worked out just fine, Face still had lingering doubts about the effectiveness of his tackle in a real life situation. As long as Hannibal was happy to wait, then that was just fine by him.
Hannibal had moved to his chest now, sliding his running vest up and out of the way, fingers ghosting over some of the deeper wounds, still there, still sore, still healing, while his palm smoothed cream into the red lines which showed where the rest of the lacerations had been. He smoothed right down to the elastic of his shorts, but didn’t progress any further, instead taking Face’s upper arm in both his hands and massaging the muscles there, creeping down, further and further until his fingers were ringing the thin, red skin of his wrists, still showing the lines left by manacles and rope. Again the cream came out and this close to his nose, Face could smell the thyme oil it was scented with as Hannibal massaged it into the fresh new skin, before moving on to his other arm, giving the upper muscles the same treatment, fingers skimming over a still healing gash, and finishing off at his left wrist. And then he sat back.
Face kept his eyes closed but knew there was a smile on his face as he felt Hannibal’s knee just touching his ribs. “Fuck, boss,” he whispered, too boneless to move even a finger, “you are so good at that.”
He felt Hannibal’s laugh against him and then felt those fingers again, this time tracing gently around the elastic of his shorts and then, so, so carefully, sliding under and lifting the material away from Face’s abdomen, edging it downwards. His eyes flew open to find Hannibal staring at him, irises almost hidden by the black of his blown pupils.
“Boss?” he whispered, suddenly unsure of where this was going.
“I think it’s time, don’t you?” Hannibal whispered, his voice so low it seemed to zero straight in on Face’s cock.
“I... I...” Face had to swallow as his mouth was suddenly so dry, and in that second, Hannibal lifted his shorts away and down, bunching them up around his thighs, exposing his erection to the room.
For a second there was silence as both men looked down, Face just relieved that everything seemed to be in working order, Hannibal with an expression that could only be described as hunger. “Beautiful,” Hannibal whispered almost reverently as he trailed a single finger up the heated flesh, and then he turned to meet Face’s eyes, smiling as he took in the startled expression. “Don’t worry,” he whispered soothingly, finger now running back down again, “this will be fine, this will be perfect.”
But Face was far from convinced and sat up, his hand taking Hannibal’s wrist, holding it still, “I don’t think...”
Leaning in, Hannibal pressed a kiss to his lips, “I know what you are worried about,” he whispered, “and I know the longer we leave it, the more worried you will get. But I promise you, it will be fine.” Face just held his stare, anxiety leaking from every pore. Hannibal kissed him again, a little more forcefully this time and then dropped his gaze, “Look down,” he instructed, and almost against his own will Face did so, shuddering in anticipation as he saw Hannibal’s hand gently wrap around his cock and stroke it, up and down, up and down. He swallowed – hard. “See?” Hannibal reassured him, “Everything seems to be working just fine.”
For a few minutes they just huddled on the floor together and watched as Hannibal’s hand stroked slowly up and down. “All healed up,” Hannibal whispered again, and letting go with his hand, stroked a finger over one of the red scars, stretched and distorted by the swollen flesh, but still undeniably, healed. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” Face breathed, his heart pounding in his chest.
“This?” Hannibal asked again, tracing another red scar and this time Face could only shake his head. “Well, how about this?” he asked and this time his finger found the worst one, the gash that had cut into his testicles, both of them in one go, that must have been absolute agony to endure and had needed very careful stitching. But again Face only shook his head as Hannibal traced the thin red line not distorted the way those on his erection were. “See?” he whispered again, kissing just to the right of the gash on his temple “Perfect. Now, would you like to test it out? Properly?”
Face let out a long, shaky breath as Hannibal resumed his slow, slow pumping. “I’m just...” he whispered, eyes fixed on that hand. “I’m worried...”
“What sweetheart? That it will hurt when you slide into me?” Face had to close his eyes at that, knowing damn well that Hannibal was teasing him, but he still had concerns, still had worries.
“No. That the cuts will...” he tailed off once more and Hannibal had to swallow down his anger. If Yousafzai was not already dead, Hannibal would not rest until the bastard was rotting in hell.
“They won’t open up, sweetheart, they won’t.” Hannibal reassured him, “We asked the doctor, right? He said it would be fine.”
“Yes,” Face grumbled, “but we didn’t exactly specify where it would be going, did we?” he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation and could feel his cheeks flush red.
“I did,” Hannibal whispered, right into the shell of his ear and yet again Face had to close his eyes at the thoughts that produced.
“You didn’t...”
And there was that throaty chuckle, “Oh, I most certainly did.”
Face shook his head in embarrassment; he was so glad he hadn’t been there for that particular conversation, he’d never be able to look the doctor in the eye ever again as it was.
“So – we’re okay?”
“We’re okay.”
Silence fell once more as Face opened his eyes and watched Hannibal’s hand stroking him, slow and sure, firm but gentle, and it didn’t hurt at all, in fact it felt fucking amazing. “Okay,” he eventually whispered.
Hannibal’s hand paused for just a fraction of a second; “Okay?” he even sounded a little surprised. Face nodded. “Okay then, kiddo, let’s move this upstairs shall we?”
Face allowed himself to be tugged upright, but when he went to pull his shorts back up, Hannibal was there before him, looking him right in the eyes as he pulled them further down. “We won’t be needing these anymore tonight,” he growled in that same hot timbre and Face almost combusted on the spot. Then Hannibal took his hand and smiled at him before leading him towards the stairs wearing nothing but his running vest.
As soon as they entered the bedroom, though, Face froze, looking at the bed and wondering and going back a month in his head when he couldn’t even breathe without wanting to scream in pain. Instantly Hannibal was there again, “What kid? Tell me.”
“John,” Face whispered, past liaisons with both men and women flashing through his head with alarming speed, “I just don’t see how we can do this, I mean my knee and my ribs and-”
“Shhhh,” Hannibal leaned in and kissed him to reinforce his order and then pulled back again once he was sure Face would listen, “It’s okay, I’ve got it all planned out, it’ll be fine.”
“You have?” Yet again Face was stunned by the amount of planning Hannibal had obviously put into this.
“I have, so come here and kiss me,” Face didn’t even pause, completely happy in his trust of Hannibal and their lips found each other with the familiarity that five weeks of practice had given them, and as his arousal mounted, Face found his fears being pushed further and further back into a distant corner of his mind as Hannibal pushed them closer and closer to the bed.
Face’s running vest was stripped over his head and his own quick fingers instantly went to Hannibal’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over as well, moving straight to the buttons of his jeans where they scrabbled and tugged at the stiff denim. “Here, let me.” The throaty chuckle was back, and Face found himself wondering how in the hell Hannibal could be so damn relaxed about all of this. But he let Hannibal take over and stepped back out of the way, watching wide eyed as the boss slipped off his jeans, tugging his socks off in the same movement, before standing up and smiling at Face as he pulled down his white trunks.
By the time he’d straightened up again, as naked as the day he was born, Face had had enough of watching, He was straight in again, mouth on the boss’, hand straight onto that glorious cock and working him, slow and steady just as Hannibal had touched him downstairs.
For long minutes they stood like this, tongues entwined, hands stoking the fire higher and higher, but then Hannibal pulled away, breathing hard. “Kid,” he whispered, reaching into the drawer for an innocuous bottle of lube, “I have been waiting ten years for this moment with you, I really don’t think I can last another second.”
The burst of heat that sentence produced in Face’s heart was quickly followed by a similar blast in his groin and he could only gasp as a slicked up hand suddenly grabbed his cock and covered it with the warm lube, before Hannibal settled himself on the edge of the bed, feet on the carpet, legs spread wide, and lay back, smiling wickedly at Face, “I’m all yours, Temp, come and get me.”
Face had never moved so fast in his entire life. The bed was an old one, matched the antique feel of the house completely and so was a little higher than usual, perfect for Hannibal’s plans. He positioned himself in the gap between the boss’ legs and reached over for the lube, but Hannibal’s hand was there too fast and grabbed his wrist to stop him. Face looked up in confusion, “Boss, I-”
“Leave it,” Hannibal cut him off, smiling, “I’ve already done it.”
Face’s mouth literally fell open, “You planned this?”
For a second, Hannibal’s smile was as wide as his legs, a cocky retort on the edge of his lips but then it all fell away and a look of utmost seriousness replaced it. “Not planned,” he whispered, eyes wide, “but hoped. Wished for. Desired. I want you, beautiful boy, so, so much.”
Face just fell onto him, left arm holding him up on the bed as he stifled a hiss of pain at the ache in his ribs the move produced. His desperate mouth found Hannibal’s even as his right hand was groping about between them, trying to line himself up with Hannibal’s entrance.
Hannibal kissed back for all he was worth, gloriously ecstatic on every level that they were finally going to do this together. He slipped his own hand down as well, aware of Face’s desperate fumbling, he drew his knee up and took hold of his lieutenant’s wrist, guiding his hand to the right place, and just as he felt that hot, hard pressure right there, waiting, Face pulled out of the kiss and drew back, looking at him.
Keeping one hand on his wrist, Hannibal lifted the other to rest on Face’s cheek, “I swear to you, this will be fine.”
Face nodded, took a deep breath and pushed in.
It wasn’t fine, it was fucking amazing. Face had never felt anything like it in his entire life, the heat, the pressure, the love... The way that Hannibal was looking at him, so... reverent as if Face were the most precious thing in the entire universe. It was mind blowing. And of course it didn’t hurt, not at all, not anywhere in his whole body, in fact it was the exact opposite, it made him feel as if he were flying. He smiled at Hannibal, snapped his hips just a shade harder and almost came on the spot as Hannibal groaned, arching his back and pushing his head into the mattress, legs lifting up to wrap around Face’s waist.
“Oh, yes, kid, that’s the spot,” he moaned and Face was lost. Dropping down so that both hands were on the bed either side of Hannibal’s head, Face leaned in as far as he could and gave it everything he had. Hannibal moaned with every thrust, and Face, eyes wide and staring knew he had never seen anything as remotely erotic as that sight ever in his whole life. He watched transfixed as Hannibal’s head rolled from side to side, as his hands repeatedly gripped and released the covers, and then, just as he was sure that this whole experience couldn’t possible get any better, he watched as Hannibal’s eyes opened and fixed on his own blown pupils.
“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, the sounds going straight to Face’s straining cock, “I’m gonna come, Temp, just for you, watch me, watch me, kid...”
And Face looked down, thrusting desperately now, knowing that nothing in the world would ever be enough to make him stop and right in front of his wide, incredulous eyes, Hannibal came. Thick spurts of semen splashed out from the end of his cock, coating his chest and stomach and Face had never seen anything like it, never been invited to watch his partner come like that, noticed everything, every twitch, every pulse every jerk, and then he was following, eyes closing all by themselves, even as he tried to keep them open, head thrown back as he filled Hannibal with the evidence of his love.
Afterwards it was all a bit hazy. Face went from ecstasy to agony in half a second as his calf muscle cramped and he went down, wrenching his cock free as he fell. But Hannibal was there in an instant, somehow knowing what was wrong and lifting Face’s leg as he rolled on the floor, taking his foot and bending it up, pushing through the blinding pain to find the stretch that pulled all the pain out and then he let him down, rolled him to his side and spooned up behind him, pulling the sheet from the bed as they lay together, letting their heart beats settle.
Five minutes passed in silence before a single word was spoken.
“Sorry.”
But it came from both of them together, and Face turned in the circle of Hannibal’s arms, his forehead creased in a frown as he asked, “What have you got to be sorry for, boss?”
Hannibal smiled sadly and stroked Face’s cheek. “For rushing you into this, and I could ask you the self same question.”
Face returned the same smile, “For ballsing it all up.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t balls it up at all! It was incredible!”
“And you,” Face returned, placing his own hand on Hannibal’s cheek, “didn’t push me into anything.” Hannibal just raised his eyebrows at that and Face laughed, “Okay, well maybe you did. But,” he stopped Hannibal from dropping his gaze, made him keep eye contact, “I’m so glad you did. You’re right; it was getting worse with every day we didn’t do it. Time would have come when I’d have been so scared of what might happen you would never have convinced me to try...”
He looked so sad at those words that Hannibal leaned in and kissed him, firm, but gentle, reassuring him with his touch. “It would never have got to that point,” he whispered, “brave, brave boy that you are, but, well, I’m glad we didn’t wait any longer. I’ve wasted far too much of my time with you as it is.”
Face smiled, a real, happy smile this time as he leaned in for another kiss. Too much wasted time? Well, he knew exactly what he could do about that...
Final part
