A guest room in Glacia, Thursday night Fandom time

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal settled his things in the wardrobe and wandered about the room, familiarizing himself with everything in it. Karla's hospitality was as impeccable as he would have expected, even if he had been for all intents and purposes kidnapped. He wondered darkly for a moment if Glacia had an equivalent of the FBI to investigate such things.

Which naturally led to other thoughts. Of Jack, of Alana. And especially of Will.

He stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed, calming himself.

Jono	The equivalent of the FBI, in Glacia? Julian. Jono. How in the world did Hannibal keep befriending those types, anyway? To the point, in fact, where one of them was currently standing outside of the door to Hannibal's room, wondering if perhaps now was a bad time? //Hannibal?// It wasn't so much a word as it was a question, a light wash of inquiry, wondering if he was intruding. Maybe a sort of soft hint of, 'hey, I'm worried, I'm here if you need somebody' to go along with that.
Hannibal	Something about the violence and intellectual challenge of the job, maybe? Whatever it was, Hannibal had several fewer friends now than he had earlier in the day. He nodded, swallowed, and spoke just loudly enough for Jono to hear. "Come in."
Jono	Oh. Oh. That was a tone of voice that Jonothon had never heard from Hannibal before, and it had him hesitating at the door for a moment before reaching for the doorknob and letting himself in, pulling the door shut again behind himself. //Hey,// he said, tentatively. //Just wanted to check up on you, mate. Karla was in a hell of a rush to usher me away when you got in, and I never got a chance to ask if there was anything I can to do help.// But he had plenty of time to finish cleaning the canapés from the floor while Karla chased Hannibal up to the shower. So. That had been something.
Hannibal	And Hannibal would greatly appreciate that cleanliness once he got back home. For now, he turned to Jono and did his best to smile at him. It was a fairly credible one; he did have a lot of practice. "Thank you." He sat on the corner of the bed, and took a moment to think. "I don't believe there is, but I do appreciate your concern."
Jono	//Nah,// Jono replied, nodding once, //I figured that might be the case.// He'd danced this dance before. Though maybe with somewhat less murder than had been involved, not that he was aware of that much. //But I figured I ought to make the offer all the same. You don't have to force a smile for my sake, Hannibal. I'm not here because I think your pain is a spectator sport.//
Hannibal	That got a more humorous smile. "I hadn't thought it was. Although I wouldn't hold it against you to be a bit morbidly curious. It's human nature, isn't it?"
Jono	//Can't deny that,// Jono allowed. //We don't much care for mysteries, though if you're not feeling up to talking about what happened, I'm not going to push you for information. I know it wasn't your blood, I know you're more pulverized in an emotional sense than the physical one that Karla was letting on. And if there's anything you want to talk about, I'll listen. If you don't want to talk, I'm just fine with sitting here in silence, if that's what you want. Or leaving. It's your call, mate. No expectations, no demands. I don't expect you to perform, here. I just...// He shrugged. //... care.//
Hannibal	Hannibal waved Jono to sit. He wasn't sure if he could or should speak of what had happened, but perhaps the company would distract him.
Jono	Well, if Hannibal wasn't going to chase him out of the room, Jonothon was going to nod and take a seat in a nearby armchair. //Thanks,// he said, leaning forward a little. //... You know, I think this chair is actually more comfortable than the one in my room? There's how you tell Karla likes you, mate. You get the comfortable chair.// He... was rambling. Fabulous. //Hope she didn't put you out too much, kidnapping you away to Glacia like this.//
Hannibal	"I haven't ever missed a class before," Hannibal confessed. "I feel like I should be back there, doing something useful." Though given his current mindset, it was probably just as well that he not be around his students. "I feel..." he grimaced. "Like Sisyphus after his rock rolls back down the hill. I keep staring after it, wondering why it's fallen and how long until I have the strength to try again."
Jono	It was an interesting comparison. After all, Sisyphus' fate was a punishment devised to rub in his face that he thought he was more clever than the gods. //Your class will get on without you for a week,// Jono shared, //though there's enough of a connection to the island from here that you can contact somebody to take over your class if need be. As for the rock...// He shrugged his shoulders again. //I don't think you're damned to push it for eternity,// he offered. //And even if you are, you're certainly not required to push it alone. But...// His brow furrowed faintly as he tried to puzzle out how to say what he wanted to say. //That doesn't make it less brutal now. As much as 'this too shall pass' is true, that doesn't always make the here and now easier to stomach, does it?// This was heartbreak, wasn't it? Heartbreak was crushing.
Hannibal	"No, it doesn't," Hannibal agreed. "I still failed. I have still lost friends." Will had still rejected his friendship, rejected his own nature.
Jono	//I'm sorry,// Jono murmured, and he very much meant it. //It's the doubt afterwards, isn't it? When you end up asking 'what could I have done differently?' Picking apart every little aspect of what you've done, inspecting it in minutiae, after the fact.// And hindsight was always perfect, wasn't it? //Makes the loss that much worse.//
Hannibal	Hannibal clenched his hands around the edge of the mattress, his jaw set. "I trusted someone." Offered him my friendship. But he rejected it.
Jono	//Ah.// Jonothon's eyes rested on Hannibal's hands for a few moments, and then he looked up, trying to meet his gaze. //That's worse, then.// He didn't need to be a telepath to catch the undertones of betrayal and rejection in that statement. //Trust is a dangerous proposition.//
Hannibal	Especially for someone with Hannibal's secrets. "I told him I forgave him. I'm not certain if I meant it." Forgave him for putting him in a position to kill or be killed by Jack, certainly. Forgave him for rejecting both Hannibal and his own nature? Possibly not. Or possibly he still held out a tiny ember of hope.
Jono	//Do you suppose you'll ever be able to mean it?// Jono lingered awkwardly in that seat for a moment, and then nodded to the spot next to Hannibal on the bed. //May I?// This just seemed like it had evolved into the sort of conversation you didn't have from opposite ends of the room.
Hannibal	Hannibal nodded to the second question. To the first... "I gave him more than I've given anyone in a very long time. He turned it down. I don't know if I can easily let that go."
Jono	Jono stood, making his way over to sit down beside Hannibal, his gaze falling back to the floor once he was there. //And when you've been that closed for that bloody long...// Ouch. //Serves to reinforce why you don't open up in the first place. Rough bloody reminder of it. For what it's worth, I don't think anybody's going to expect you to give more than you feel you're able. Especially not in the wake of something like that.//
Hannibal	"Bloody in more than one way," Hannibal acknowledged with a grim smile. It wasn't as if Jono were going to forget the state he'd been in when he'd arrived home.
Jono	//Bloody in more than one way,// Jono agreed, glancing sidelong at Hannibal, at that. //Care to talk about that, at least? Or is that something you'd rather not discuss?// He wouldn't deny his curiosity on that front. It wasn't as though he could pretend he wasn't—Hannibal would know better just as well as he did, after all. It was human nature to want to know.
Hannibal	"I..." Hannibal tried to find some words to say that would be descriptive without being damning. He pictured the scene that he'd left at his Baltimore home, and nearly vibrated with grief and frustration. He swallowed and consciously tried to relax himself again. "Not now," he answered a bit curtly, trying to smile to soften it. "Perhaps when it isn't so close." When he could think about it more objectively, speak of it without the danger of losing control.
Jono	//Not now,// Jonothon echoed, nodding again. He hesitated for a moment before leaning sideways just a little, just enough to kind of bump his shoulder lightly against Hannibal's, filling his next words with as much patience and reassurance as he could. //Not ever, if you never feel up for sharing it. I'm not going to press.// Much as he wanted to. His curiosity wasn't worth endangering a friendship over.
Hannibal	Sharing. Hannibal nodded again, then all but threw himself off the bed, unable to sit still any longer. "Thank you," he managed, squeezing Jono's hand for a moment before he stalked away to pace.
Jono	Ah, pacing. Jono knew that urge well enough, himself. He sat silently for a minute, just watching, before pulling himself to his feet. //Anxious, mate? Want a hand working some of that frustration off?// Sometimes it helped to just hit things.
Hannibal	It did. And sometimes it helped to carve things up. But even if Jono wouldn't actually be harmed by that, Hannibal doubted that was what he was offering. He flicked a glance over at Jono. "What did you have in mind?"

[OOC: Preplayed with the wondermous furnaceface and continued in comments! NFB]

[ETA: Now very firmly NSFW!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

Jono didn't jump when the door opened, per se, but he did tense a bit. Apparently the door was just out of his line of sight, especially since he was tethered down so firmly. But he relaxed a bit once he confirmed that the one stepping into the salle again was Hannibal, tilting his head faintly.

//Welcome back.//

He'd wave hello, but for some technical difficulties.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Did you miss me?" Hannibal smirked a bit as he walked back over to Jono. There was no smell of sex or sweat, given Jono's metabolism, but his scent seemed sharper-edged and the air just a bit more charged.

[furnaceface]

//Oh, very much. And not just because you left me wondering about th'door, either.//

Though that had certainly had him figuratively sweating for a few minutes.

//Have a good walk?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"The redecoration has been a relief. Karla has much better taste than her uncle." Not like that. Though he would love to cook that man.

He put a hand on Jono, then gripped him tight, enjoying the feel of his skin and the movement of his own muscles.

[furnaceface]

//Well, I imagine we'd all rally together if she didn-mmmmm.//

Hannibal had found a good way to distract Jono and make him shut up, look at that! And given the way his muscles tensed as he did so, and the way he'd shifted his weight yet again, it was probably fairly apparent he'd been waiting for more contact since Hannibal left the room.

Jono could compose symphonies singing praises to this man's hands, at this point.

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunate that Hannibal was a huge fan of music.

He slipped the sketchbook and pencil under the bench and turned his attention back to Jono. He held the scalpel out of the way for now and concentrated instead on kneading his skin, just a touch too hard to be a relaxing massage.

[furnaceface]

And then there was this guy. Touch-starved and more than a little masochistic when he felt so inclined, Jonothon's first reaction might not have been 'mmm, comfortable,' but it was appreciative all the same. There were still things for Jono to enjoy about being rubbed at a little too hard, after all- it forced him to relax whether he wanted to or not, for example. And the strength in Hannibal's hands, the way he had already picked out exactly where to press to get a reaction out of him, the fact that he was here doing this at all...

And on top of it all, knowing that there could, at any moment, be a sensation far more immediate and biting than this, that right then, this was him getting off lightly...

He had no words, but he did share a wave of appreciation, excitement, and anticipation, wrapped up neatly in a blatant expression of lust. Yes, Hannibal was more than welcome to continue doing this. Yes, he was quite welcome to do whatever he wanted.

[sharp_as_knives]

What Hannibal wanted at precisely this moment was to watch the blood flowing down over Jono's skin, following the lines of his muscles and bones. The scalpel was perfectly sharp, and he knew just where to cut to get the most blood with the least depth.

He continued to knead and dig into Jono's back with his other hand, smiling and waiting for the sensation to hit.

[furnaceface]

It took a few moments, Jono's attention occupied by the much harsher feel of Hannibal's hand against his back, before he was even aware that the scalpel had been brought into play. The well and trickle of blood was what alerted him to it, the blade too sharp to cause real, immediate pain, but the moment he was aware of it, that was where his focus was drawn, holding on to the creeping sting wherever the scalpel moved. He grasped on to that, too, like a drowning man finding air, his eyes closing tightly and his hands balling into fists as he willed himself to stay still.

He was trembling, though it was in anticipation of more, not out of fear or concern or pain, and he sent another wave of approval while he did his damnedest not to writhe under his hands.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal's hands now were moving together in concert, encouraging the blood from the cuts he was making and smearing it over Jono's back. Not so artistic (or deadly) as his usual human art, but there was a certain flair to the combination of pale skin, dark wrappings, and bright blood.

[furnaceface]

Was Hannibal... playing in it? Practically painting with it, if the way his hands were moving across Jono's back was any real indication. And that wasn't terribly surprising either, really. After all, the man was an artist. Jono hazily remembered painting the outside of the Boards along with him on one of those odd weekends, though it was drifting vaguely along the back of his mind, dulled by the sharp edge of Hannibal's hands coaxing blood from his split flesh.

//Your hands are a bloody treasure, you know,// he murmured, and now he did shiver, his few visible flames flickering between yellow and blue.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I have a number of talents," Hannibal answered, smirking.

Right before he leaned down to lick over one of the cuts he'd made, adding just a hint of teeth.

[furnaceface]

There it was; Jono's back arching up as he felt Hannibal's teeth against his skin. It was exactly the sort of attention he appreciated, and if he was at all surprised that it was Hannibal giving it, he clearly wasn't dwelling on it overmuch.

//Lord... Your mouth is talented enough for both of us...//

Yep. Big fan.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I have a lot of practice in tasting," Hannibal answered. And demonstrated it by continuing on to the next cut, working his way over Jono's skin.

[furnaceface]

//And you like this, do you?// Jono was practically purring, now. Or, at least, as close as he could manage. //I'm flattered.//

He really was. Also, very aroused, and entirely too pleased with the whole situation, all things considered.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Every flavor has its own beauty," Hannibal answered throatily. He unbuttoned his shirt again and pulled it off, folding it next to Jono's things. He would hate to ruin two in one night.

[furnaceface]

Jono was glancing back again at the rustle of fabric, and was watching what he could see quite intently, but the half-lidded eyes were just as much a result of the show and Hannibal's ministrations as they were about that one comment, that one word that Hannibal had used.

People very rarely used the word 'beauty' in relation to anything to do with Jonothon. It tended to make an impression on him. Even more when it wasn't being used by people like Dracula (his own world's Dracula) or Emplate in reference to the power that they were in the process of siphoning off of him and manipulating to their own ends.

Jonothon had fantastic luck with cannibals, why stop now?

//Mmm... no shortage of beauty to be found right now...//

[sharp_as_knives]

But this cannibal had no intention of eating him, at least! Well, not of consuming him. That was progress, right?

Hannibal smiled, seeing where Jono's attention was. He came back over to the bench and knelt in front of Jono. He sank his fingers into Jono's hair, pulling his head over to nibble at the side of his neck.

[furnaceface]

It certainly seemed to be a step in the right direction. Jono's head pulled back as Hannibal pulled at his hair, resisting only enough to be able to feel the pull more keenly, but any motions to resist were lost well and truly as soon as he could feel Hannibal's teeth against his sparsely-wrapped neck.

//Ah, to be able to return the favour...//

There was a whisper of sensation along with that phrase, something wistful, all tied up in an echo of what Jono was feeling against his own neck. And then, without question, another wave of approval.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I have no complaints," Hannibal murmured against Jono's skin. He tightened his hand enough to hurt and bit Jono's ear hard enough to draw blood.

It was heady, this power and control willingly given to him. This was what he needed; Jono could have whatever he liked physically. The fact that he wanted to hurt only made it better.

[furnaceface]

There was something about pain, to a man who lived a life half-numb to physical sensation. Tender caresses and warm embraces were all fine and good, but there was something about the sharp immediacy of pain and the way that it lingered that Jonothon craved all the more.

It was so rare that he felt anything at all, these days. Pain was the most real feeling he knew.

He wished he could gasp, then. He wished he could moan. He wished he could breathe, because all of his pain and appreciation could be so neatly summed in one slow, shaking breath. But if Hannibal wasn't complaining - and he certainly didn't seem to be - then Jonothon was going to enjoy this.

//Could write a bloody song in honour of your mouth... Compose a ballad, or a sonnet, immortalize your teeth in lyric... Lord, your teeth...//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'd like to hear that," Hannibal answered, grinning. He sucked the blood from Jono's earlobe and raked his free hand across his shoulders. "What would it say?"

[furnaceface]

Well, there was an excellent way to make it difficult for Jonothon to think.

//Something... something... drink me dry... reminds me I'm alive... something...// He glanced sidelong at him, one eyebrow arced upwards just slightly. //Can't possibly expect me to deliver improvised iambic pentameter when you're making me feel like this.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"A true artist is always composing," Hannibal said in challenge. He stood and strolled back around to run his hand over Jono's back. The cuts were mostly bleeding sluggishly, a few last drops winding their way over his skin. Hannibal bit into one as he loosened his trousers and let them fall.

[furnaceface]

And there went Jono, shuddering with pleasure again.

//Keep that up and th'best I'll be able to manage at this rate is dirty limerick,// he murmured.

Don't worry, Hannibal. Jono wouldn't subject you to that sort of torment. He was the masochist in the room, after all.