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Summary
Hannibal’s hand is halfway to stroking down Will’s spine before he catches himself. He is achingly hard and the source of his arousal is inches from him, blissfully unaware. Slowly, he draws his hand back and lets it slide downwards, towards the swell of his erection, letting out a hiss as he grazes against the silk that is barely containing it.
This is… rude. Inexcusably so. Were he entirely in control, Hannibal would surely retreat into his mind palace and wait until he was less affected.
But…
Hannibal cannot touch Will as he aches to. So he touches himself instead.
