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Jack Crawford’s two fingers of whiskey settled on the counter right in the center of the rifle’s crosshairs. From a short distance away, view optimized by its slight elevation, Will watched his former boss carefully, his breath slow and even between beats of his heart.
He wouldn’t shoot Jack. Not as unceremoniously as this, at least-- anonymously from the comfort of the man’s own back woods. The rifle’s scope was simply a tool in observation. And what Will observed was that Jack was completely and utterly alone
Will felt the heat of Hannibal behind him at the same time he heard the snow crunch under his shifting weight. “Jack is rarely one to surprise me,” Hannibal eventually said. “But I would be lying if I were to say I would have expected him to stay put.”
“Jack wouldn’t move,” Will replied casually, eyes still pressed against the scope. Jack held his glass and looked out the window in a blank gaze. “He’s obstinate.”
Will ran his tongue along his bottom lip, then put the gun down. He could see Jack clearly without the telescope, as they couldn’t be more than fifty feet away. Shrouded in the darkness of night, he imagined the comfort of being in Jack’s kitchen with him now. Inside, away from the biting cold breeze that felt like a blade against the scar on his cheek.
There was, however, something quite titillating about being in his backyard unseen. Unhidden yet unnoticed on his property.
Will had noted the security cameras and flood lights that encompassed the brick walls; accouterments to the blue shutters flanking each window plastered across the grand house’s façade. With so many windows, it was almost as if Jack was asking to be looked at.
In that regard, Hannibal and Will closely shadowed the Guru’s fall from grace with particular interest. After they’d run away together, TattleCrime was eager to document Crawford’s otherwise quiet “resignation” and return to civilian life. Will and Hannibal, in turn, were eager to follow it, trailing the story back to its roots in Virginia.
“It will be hard,” Hannibal said, breath wisping visibly in the cold air. “Saying goodbye to an old friend.”
Will made a humming noise in agreement, though he knew it wouldn’t be too hard. Killing Jack was an inevitable part of their retribution. It was impersonal.
Hannibal placed a firm hand on Will’s shoulder and continued to speak hotly against the scarf on his neck. “Especially the one we owe our relationship to.”
Will turned at that, practically bumping his nose against Hannibal’s. “You attribute our relationship to Jack Crawford?”
“Don’t you?” Hannibal said with a raised brow. “Were it not for Jack, we wouldn’t be where we are now.”
Hannibal wrapped a strong arm around the waist of Will’s coat, adding a subtle warmth against his body. Will smirked at that. It’s not something he’d necessarily considered. Of all the push and pull of their relationship, Jack Crawford had seldom been the one Will considered to thank.
“Our matchmaker…” He murmured sardonically, leaning against Hannibal’s weight.
Hannibal turned his head and kissed Will tenderly, stroking the bent index finger of his glove against the underside of Will’s chin.
“Imagine…” He purred after separating, nosing Will’s scarf and flitting his eyes towards the window where Jack sat none-the-wiser, “what he might do if he were to look out that very window now.”
Will groaned softly at the thought; it excited him to imagine. Would Jack be surprised? Scandalized? Disappointed? Afraid?
Hungry for more, Hannibal tugged off Will’s scarf and tossed it aside before swallowing against the skin of his neck, providing more heat to Will’s skin than the accessory had been able to provide.
“Or,” Will continued, practically babbling, “Picture the Jack Crawford we knew five years ago… finding out about us now.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Jack was no less innocent or hardened then, but definitely more trusting. His compassion for Will had blinded him, and it turned Will on to think of the slap in the face it would be to his past-self to know where all their futures lay.
Sensing Will’s arousal, Hannibal picked at the finger of his glove to pull it off and hurriedly pushed his hand into Will’s pants. The heat of Will's body warmed the hand as it felt the fabric of his boxers and fondled his half-hard cock. Will’s instinct was to close his eyes, but he couldn’t bear to. The thought of not having his eyes on Jack when he might potentially look out to see them was too big of a risk.
“Hannibal,” he grunted out as he felt the hand snake under the hem of his boxers and wrap itself around the shaft of his cock.
Will's throat constricted with the urge to moan as he felt the sensitive swipe of Hannibal's thumb collecting precum from the weeping slit of his head. Hannibal continued to stand against him, chest pressed flush against Will’s back, kissing tenderly at his neck with a softness that contrasted the voracious need rousing inside of him. Their eyes were both glued on the window where Jack stood no more than thirty feet away.
“Do you think he knows?” Will huffed with a smile in voice.
“Knows what?” Hannibal says with a grin into Will’s cheek. “That I’m pleasuring you in his backyard?”
Will shook his head, hips involuntarily twitching forward to get better friction from Hannibal’s hand.
“No… I meant…” Will reached behind him, cupping Hannibal’s jaw in a hard hold. “Do you think he knows the fucked up shit you love having done to you?”
Hannibal breathed in the scent of Will’s hair, unsure if he should play coy or rebuff the remark. He instead opted for silence, allowing Will to take the reins, curious to see where his delectable mind would drive it.
“What do you think he’d say?” Will continued, bucking his hips into Hannibal’s hand in an imitation of fucking. “Knowing that his fine China used its broken edges to cut Hannibal the Cannibal and bleed him dry?” He pulled Hannibal’s head towards him and kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip before adding, “And that the Cannibal liked it?”
Hannibal trembled, eyes darting to Jack in the window as he continued to jack Will off, the sound of wet flesh and the rustling of fabric filling the cold air.
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Hannibal mused breathily into Will’s ear. “That perhaps it was the Cannibal that broke the China while feasting on his victims?”
Will snarled at him, despite knowing that Hannibal was teasing. “You didn’t break me.”
Hannibal knew.
“I wonder if he dreams about us,” Will shuddered out, relaxing under Hannibal’s hand. He was fully erect now, cock sufficiently slicked by his own pre-cum.
“And what would he dream about?” Hannibal purred, eager more-so to hear Will’s train of thought than he was in the actual answer itself.
“I can’t imagine it’s close to reality,” Will chuckled before stifling out a soft moan. “Unless he’s getting visions of me screwing your brains out every night.” A particularly coarse yank from Hannibal causes Will to groan. “Think he knows how eager you are to please?”
Hannibal grinned. “Think he knows how insatiable you are?”
Unable to care that he’d be proving Hannibal right, Will growled at that and turned around to push Hannibal’s chest, causing him to stumble slightly backwards.
“Pants off,” he demanded.
When Hannibal didn’t immediately do as he was told, Will grabbed him by the hem of his pants and harshly yanked them down onto the ground; uncovering his bare legs in the patio light that reflected back onto the snow.Seeing Hannibal exposed below the waist in the winter air made surged a needy impatience inside of Will. He watched a moment as hannibal stood there not unlike a child who had to go piss in the woods. Not to mention, the thought of Jack being so close had only (unexpectedly) served to turn him on more.
He reached into his peacoat for the bottle of Vaseline he carried with him on these excursions. Useful for softening creaky hinges or quickly attending to cuts and scratches, he now sought it for a different purpose.
He bit the finger of his left glove off and tossed it onto the snow, then pulled off the other with his bare hand. He squeezed a generous portion of the Vaseline against his middle and index finger. Then, with his other hand, he turned Hannibal around with a strong grip on his shoulder and pushed to bend him over by the hips.
Hannibal obliged, interested and eager to know how far Will was willing to with Jack so close. His curiosity was answered as Will reached between his cheeks and felt Hannibal’s hole, which quivered from the contact. With his wet fingers, Will quickly massaged the pink muscle of the rim in obligation before easing the two fingers into the tight hole.
Hannibal grunted at the swift intrusion, but Will wasn’t particularly mindful of Hannibal’s needs or wants. Right now, he cared only about himself and Jack.
He scissored his fingers gently to ease Hannibal open, then turned his wrist upright and stroked upward in an attempt to hit his prostate. Pants still around his ankles, Hannibal did his best to spread his legs, grunting at the sensation of Will’s fingers moving so deftly inside him.
After a few more obligatory moments of prodding and stroking, Will pulled his fingers out unceremoniously, leaving Hannibal’s hole slightly gaped in the cold air. Hannibal gasped softly at the loss, attempting to spread his legs further for what he knew would come next.
Eyes unwavering on Jack, Will opened the fly of his pants and pulled out his hard, still-slick cock, then squeezed another glop of Vaseline into the palm of his hand and stroked himself to moisten it further. As his wet hand glided over the soft skin of his dick, he allowed his eyes to close and pictured fucking Hannibal all those years ago in the FBI offices. In the classroom at the academy. In Jack’s office. On Jack’s desk. Jack opening the door and finding them.
Fuck. He lined his leaking cock up with Hannibal’s hole and slowly began to push in, hissing at the tightness. “Relax,” he commanded, swatting Hannibal’s side as if admonishing him.
Hannibal did his best to follow Will’s order, consciously relaxing himself and reveling in the slow burn of Will pushing inside him. Will held a tight grip where Hannibal’s body bends forward, and slowly began to fuck into him, focusing on the ramping sound of his balls slapping rhythmically against Hannibal’s ass. For just a moment he felt as though Jack’s eyes passed over his and saw exactly what they were doing.
But, if he did, he made no expression or show of it. Perhaps he thought he was imagining things. Instead, Crawford finished his glass of whiskey and stood up from his stool, leaving the kitchen and shutting off the light.
“Fuck,” Will hissed out, an exclamation that Hannibal mistook as being one of pleasure. It wasn’t so much that looking at Jack aroused Will—he wasn’t exactly attracted to him in that way. Instead, it was the thrill of being so close to him. Of knowing Jack was right there and could look up and see them. That he might, at any moment, witness the consequences of his actions.
Hannibal let out a low moan. Eager to get Jack’s attention in some way, or at least risk it, Will pounded into him harder. When Hannibal let out a small cry, Will stilled as the light in Jack’s bedroom turned on.
Will slapped a hand over Hannibal’s mouth and froze, watching to see if Jack would come to the window.
He waited. A moment. Three. Seven.
Then, Jack crossed past the window, shirtless and holding pajama bottoms.
Will couldn’t help but smile. He leaned into Hannibal harder, pressing his nose against his ear and speaking lowly.
“Shh…” He said, slowly picking up his pace, humping against him in short ruts like an animal. “You want him to hear us? Huh? Want Jack Crawford to see what a little bitch you are?”
“Will,” Hannibal pleaded.
Crawford was out of sight again and Will snarled. He stood up straight and pushed Hannibal further down, one hand caught in his hair, the other on his shoulder as he snapped his hips quickly into him.
“Neugh…” Hannibal couldn’t help but wrap his hand around his own length, jerking himself off in time with Will’s motions. Typically, Will wouldn’t stand for it—used to batting Hannibal’s hand away in favor of his own— but the thought of being caught like this only sent an electrifying jolt to his dick.
He imagined it… Jack going to draw the curtains then pausing. He sees a figure in the snow below the house. It’s someone jerking off… no… it’s Hannibal Lecter jerking off. But he’s not just jerking off… somebody is fucking him. Somebody fucking Hannibal Lecter?
Oh my God, he’d say out loud. It’s Graham.
The thought alone proved to be too overwhelming. Will held his breath as his orgasm crested sharply, the sensation peaking against his twitching cock before finally releasing. Every trembling muscle froze from the crown of his head down to his curling toes with illicit pleasure that forced a sound somewhere between a growl and shout. As he felt his balls retract and begin to relax, his eyes immediately shifted to the window.
And, to his surprise, he saw something. Jack pausing and listening. He’d heard him.
Chest heaving with each breath, Will remained slack-jawed, patient and waiting for Jack to turn around.
But he didn’t.
He turned back to his bed, likely mistaking the shout for some animal or unruly neighbor, and continued unmaking the top corner.
Eyes still trained, and spent cock still inside Hannibal, Will swatted Hannibal’s hand away from his own shaft that’d been shrunken by the cold and took hold of it instead, roughly jerking it in an attempt to get Hannibal to cum.
“C’mon… c’mon,” He muttered, unsure if he was urging Hannibal or Jack.
Will almost considered stopping— this was soon to be a crime scene after all. But the thought of police finding Hannibal and Will’s cum in the snow outside Crawford’s final resting place was enough to make his softening cock twitch again inside Hannibal’s ass.
“Cum for me Hannibal,” he demanded, not caring about his volume. The only concern he’d had were neighbors, though the houses in Jack’s neighborhood seemed spread far enough apart to not be an issue. Besides, if some nosey neighbor did end up moseying around, it wouldn’t be anything he and Hannibal couldn’t handle. “I want Jack Crawford to know who you belong to,” he said.
Hannibal screwed his eyes shut and with a low moan, came from Will’s hand, spurts of warm semen landing on the snow beneath his spread legs. Will gasped, feeling Hannibal hole constrict around his drained cock and leaking seed.
For a moment, the two stayed huddled against each other, huffing breaths visible in the cold air as they heaved together in time.
“It’s a shame,” Hannibal eventually panted, “Jack missed such an event in his own backyard.”
Will grinned, giving Hannibal a playful swat on the ass before pulling out and tucking himself back in his pants. “Maybe we’ll perform an encore,” he smiled.
When Hannibal had finished getting his pants back on, he turned to Will with a waggish brow. “Ready?”
“Of course,” said Will. He reached into his other pocket to pull out the burner, flipping it open and quickly dialing a number.
From the ground below, he watched as Jack stood up from the edge of his bed and make his way to the bedside landline.
Hannibal picked up the rifle and aimed it at the knob of the backdoor.
“Hello?” He heard the sturdy voice through the receiver.
“Jack, it’s Will,” Will breathed out, putting on the best performance he could muster. “I don’t know where I am.”
Bang.