(Hannigram, Rated: Explicit)
He’s had erotic dreams every night for a week and at first, they were kind of a welcome respite from the hellscape dreams about killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Who wouldn’t like to dream about getting a really nice, patiently paced blowjob and a little butthole tickle from some unseen and generous lover?
Now, though, they’re getting to be kind of a hassle. Whoever’s blowing him never actually gets him off and he ends up feeling sort of restlessly horny for the rest of the day even if he jerks off after he wakes up. It’s distracting as hell. In a lecture yesterday, he very nearly said “masturbate” instead of “manuscript.” He can’t figure out what’s changed in his life that he suddenly has more sex dreams in a week than he usually has in an entire year.
He’s just about to go take care of business when his phone buzzes beside him.
“I’m picking you up in a few minutes.” It’s Jack Crawford, sounding grim and authoritative as usual. “I’ve got Dr. Lecter with me. There’s a crime scene outside Bedford, Pennsylvania. Just a quick trip so we’re driving.”
Will rubs his boner through his shorts. “How many minutes is a few minutes?” he asks.
“We’re just turning onto the road to your house,” Jack says.
Hannibal speaks up in the background. “Tell him I’ve brought breakfast for him to eat in the car, and coffee, as well.”
Will is touched. More than a little annoyed at having to go, but definitely touched that Hannibal—and that’s how he already thinks of him, although he wouldn’t call him anything but Dr. Lecter out loud—would be so thoughtful towards him.
“Did you hear that?” Jack asks.
Will sighs. “Yeah, I heard.”
He manages to get dressed and have the dogs out for their morning constitutional, but there’s no time for anything else before Jack ushers him into the car. To his dismay, Hannibal gets into the back seat with him and starts unpacking breakfast. Will tries to sit in such a way that his persistent erection isn’t so obvious. If Hannibal notices, he’s at least polite enough not to mention it.
“It’s just leftovers heated up,” Hannibal says. “It was all I could pull off in the time allotted me.”
“You needn’t have gone through the trouble,” Will assures him. “Most mornings I just have coffee anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Hannibal says with a small huff. “Most important meal of the day and all that.”
“Just don’t spill any of it,” Jack says over his shoulder. “This is my car, not the Bureau’s.”
Will’s horror only grows when Hannibal unfurls a napkin and lays it over his lap. The tenting is not entirely subtle. He wonders if spilling blazing hot coffee on his groin would help any.
(Read the rest at http://archiveofourown.org/works/13662030)
“The Long Delay”
Published
Mostly reblogs and random words 