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"Should we run through this scene a couple of times?" asks Hugh. Hugh and Mads are in one of the dressing trailers on the set of Hannibal and with only two more episodes to shoot in season two, they want to make sure it goes smoothly.
"We'd better, so we don't end up laughing like we did with that barn scene," says Mads.
The scene in question calls for a confrontation between Hannibal and Will where Will backs Hannibal up against a wall and gets very close to his face before giving him a piece of his mind. The two actors have about an hour's break before they're needed again, so there's plenty of time to get the scene right. They run through the first practice session but when Hugh starts backing Mads up against the wall, they both burst out laughing and cannot stop. When they stitch themselves back together, they try again and this time the laughter is even worse. A third time and they are able to contain themselves somewhat and get through about half of the scene, but Hugh forgets his lines, which causes a new eruption of laughter. By the fourth time, most of it is out of their systems. Hugh backs Mads up against the wall of the trailer and starts to deliver his lines, but he falters. No laughter this time. Their eyes meet and there is a strange tension between them. Something that they have both felt on the set many times but have always laughed off or allowed to play out in innuendo only, for the enjoyment of the audience. This time, there is no camera rolling and there will be no audience. And yet that feeling is there, hanging between them. Hugh clears his throat, backs away, stuffing his hands in his pockets and mutters, "Let's start again." Mads nods.
Now it's the fifth attempt, Hugh backing Mads up against the wall and gets in very close to him. Again, their eyes meet and Hugh completely forgets his lines. Now, they are just looking at each other, searching each other's eyes and the tension is building. Involuntarily, Mads's tongue pushes out between his lips, licking them slowly before disappearing back inside. A sigh escapes Hugh's own lips before he can stop it. Each of them thinks that the other must be able to hear his heart beating. They are both frozen in place but shaking imperceptibly. It is Mads who moves first, putting one of his arms out to tentatively touch Hugh's side. Hugh swallows, but does not break the gaze.
Hugh's lips are slightly parted and he keeps looking between Mads's eyes and Mads's lips. Agonizingly slowly and hesitantly, Mads stretches his head forward, seeking permission with his eyes and when he thinks he finds it, he presses his lips lightly to Hugh's. At first, all Hugh can do is stand stock still, accepting the kiss but not responding. Mads waits a moment, lips hovering there, and then at once, Hugh presses his own lips full-on to Mads's, causing Mads's head to push back up against the wall.
The dam between them breaks and now they are kissing and groping each other in a frenzy, all of the sexual tension built up over the last two years culminating in this moment. It feels inevitable to both of them and unbelievable at the same time. Their kiss turns fierce as if they cannot get deep enough into each other mouths and they start ripping frantically at each other's clothing, desperate to feel the skin of the other pressed against his own.
They are a mass of lips and tongues and hands and kissing and panting and groping and gripping. Hugh's hands find their way into Mads's hair and ruin the effect of the Hannibal gel holding it in place. Mads's hands migrate to Hugh's bottom, squeezing and rubbing and pulling him in closer. They are both nearly out of breath from kissing so hard. All of a sudden, Hugh pushes himself away, putting his hand to his forehead and turning in a quick, tight circle. "Bloody hell! Bloody hell! What the hell are we doing? What is this?"
"This," answers Mads calmly, "is two years of build up. We can blame this on Bryan, ya know. He's been putting us in these sexual situations again and again for the past two years. It's not all that surprising if you consider that." He is reaching for Hugh again, but Hugh is still freaking out, pacing around in a figure eight, not sure what to do with his hands. "Bryan's fault. Yes. Blame it on Bryan. I blame it on Bryan. Oh my God..." he swings back around to face Mads, blowing out a breath of defeat and pushing Mads back up against the wall. "I can't stop it. I want you."
Mads pulls him in, "Don't stop it. I don't want you to stop it." They are kissing fiercely again and sliding down the wall together as one, hitting the floor. Mads crawls on top of Hugh, pausing to rip his Hannibal vest off, thankful that he had removed his Hannibal tie when he first entered the trailer. He has his entire shirt to unbutton and make sure that it stays in good condition and he's cussing the buttons as his fingers work clumsily through each one of them in maddeningly slow motion.
As Mads struggles with the buttons, Hugh tilts his body up to pull his T-shirt over his head, flinging it to the side. Then he goes to work helping Mads with the buttons. When the shirt is open, he pauses for a moment to run his fingers through the crop of glorious hair there. He helps Mads pull the shirt sleeves down over his arms, but both of them forgot to undo the sleeve buttons and one of them pops off as Hugh yanks the sleeve off Mads's arm.
"Damn!" says Mads. "I'll have to either fix that or get another shirt before the next scene."
"Oh shit!" Hugh is panicked. "The door, Mads, the door! Anybody can walk in. Go lock it."
"Oh, right." Mads gets up from the floor, his shirt dangling off of one arm as the one cuff is still fastened, and stumbles his way to the trailer door to lock it, feeling decidedly unHanniblesque in the process. Hugh gets up off the floor to meet him halfway because he does not want to wait the time it will take for Mads to get back to him before he can start touching him again. Mads takes the rest of his shirt off on the way back from the door, letting it drop to the floor. There is a couch against the wall, and they both make their way to that and fall down onto it together, kissing madly once again. Hugh pushes Mads's chest away from him, takes a deep breath and says "What about our wives?"
Mads hesitates, thinking for a moment. "Well, if they ask us if we've ever been with another woman, we will still be able to say No."
"But what if they ask us if we cheated?"
"Why would they ask us that?"
"Well, we're cheating aren't we?" asks Hugh, panicked again.
"We can still look them in the eye and say, 'You're the only woman I've been with since we've been together.' and we won't be lying," says Mads, sounding ridiculous even to himself. "They're not going to ask us, and we don't have to say anything either – this could just be between us."
"But this is wrong, isn't it?"
"Probably." And with that, Mads leans down, covering Hugh's body and pressing a strong kiss onto Hugh's lips to shut him up. They squirm on the couch, naked chests smashed together. Mads starts down Hugh's neck, kissing and licking, his nose tickled by Hugh's scant beard. His hands wander over Hugh's torso and Hugh is running his hands through Mads's chest hair, so unlike his own bare chest. Then Mads is undoing Hugh's jeans and Hugh is helping him, wriggling out of them and pushing them down with his hands.
"Wait," says Hugh.
"What?"
"My shoes."
"Oh"
Mads gets off of Hugh long enough to allow him to take his shoes off and pull his jeans the rest of the way off but Hugh leaves his socks and underwear on. He is ridiculously hard, his cock tenting his boxers. Mads stares for a moment and then gets to work undoing his own slacks while kicking off his shoes. He disrobes in one fell swoop: boxer-briefs, slacks, and socks – gone. Hugh is left staring at an erect penis not very far from his face. Suddenly, he's embarrassed and unsure of himself. And scared. He looks up at Mads. "Uh… I don't know if we should be doing this. This isn't right. We're married. We shouldn't be doing this."
"Well, we could stop," says Mads. They both consider this option for a moment, then almost simultaneously throw it out the window and start kissing fiercely again, Mads tearing at Hugh's boxers to rid him of them.
Now, the two men are both completely naked except for Hugh's socks, and they can feel each other's hardness. Hugh is not sure how he feels about that but he kind of likes it. It's different. It's thrilling and scary at the same time. But Mads's mouth is on him, his lips kissing his neck and nuzzling his ear, and he can't think straight. He can barely think it all. He feels possessed, like he would not be able to stop even if somebody were to walk in on them.
Mads moves his hands down Hugh's body and grasps Hugh's erection. Hugh groans and lets his head fall back onto the couch, eyes closed and mouth open. Mads watches his face for a little while, stroking him slowly. He really does love his friend – he is so beautiful and all the time that they spent on the set together has only made things more intense. When he is playing Hannibal, he is truly, deeply in love with Will and he sees Hugh that way now. He sees him as perfection, as a lover, as desire manifested before him. With his large, strong hands, he wraps them around both their members, then moves his hips back and forth so that he is stroking Hugh's cock with his own. Hugh looks down to observe this phenomenon, something he never in a million years would have thought he would allow. He is fascinated by it and repulsed all at the same time. But when he looks back up into Mads's eyes and at his lips, he is simply infatuated and it's all okay.
They kiss some more and then Mads travels down Hugh's body; quickly, on a mission. He gathers Hugh's cock into his mouth and his strong suction and beautiful lips cause Hugh to whimper and grasp at Mads's hair again. The suction is unlike what he's ever felt before. He feels dizzy. His head feels like it's floating. He thinks he might pass out. Mads releases his member from his mouth and travels back up his body to his lips again. 'I want you, Hugh," he whispers into Hugh's mouth.
Hugh tips his head away to speak. "Mads, I've never… there's something I've never done." Hugh is embarrassed to say anymore.
"Anal sex?" asks Mads, without hesitation.
"Yes," says Hugh, glad that his friend is able to articulate what he can't.
"That's okay," says Mads, "I have. You can fuck me."
Hugh is a little surprised, but thankful that he doesn't have to be the one, and wonders why they even have to do that at all. He knows the answer even as he's thinking it. The way things are right now, neither one of them would be satisfied with less. "Are you sure?" asks Hugh.
"Yes, but you'll have to go slow. I'll tell you how. You'll have to use your fingers at first. Damn! Where's a butt plug when you need one…. And what about lube? We'll need lube."
"Will spit do?" asks Hugh.
"No. That's not nearly enough," says Mads, obviously well versed in whatever is needed for what's about to happen.
"Bloody hell! We don't have any lube. Where are we supposed to find lube?" Hugh's voice raises to a high panic again.
"I don't know. There's all kinds of crap around here. Look – there's got to be something."
Hugh gets up and starts searching around the trailer. It's cluttered with costumes, makeup, props, tools. He picks up one thing after the other, hoping against hope to find something that will work. He finds some motor oil and holds it up for Mads to see. They both shake their heads, frowning in horror. He puts that down and keeps looking. Soap. There's soap. Uh-uh. They both shake their heads. He puts the soap down. He finds some half-used hand lotion. Well, that seems like a better option, but they silently agree to keep looking and save the lotion if they don't find anything better. There are loads of makeup sitting on a counter and Hugh finds a jar of cold cream. He holds it up. "What about this?"
"I have no idea – won't that sting or something?" Hugh shrugs and keeps looking, frantically shoving things to the side, dropping things accidentally, picking things up, turning things over, opening drawers and cabinets. At the bottom of one of the cabinets, way in the back, he hits pay dirt. He pulls out an unopened box of KY jelly that is tucked in with an assortment of first aid supplies; ACE bandages, Band-Aid's, alcohol. He holds it up in triumph. "Look, its KY!" he practically shouts.
Mads breaks out with a huge grin on his face. "Great! That's perfect," he says, thinking, 'good enough.'
Hugh makes his way back over to the couch with the KY, ripping it out of its box. He squeezes out a big glob onto his fingertips. Half of it runs down his wrist. He furrows his brow. “Uh, now what?”
“Fingers first. Remember? One finger, then two. It won't take very long, but you have to let me at least get used to it,” says Mads. Hugh is more than a little curious how Mads knows all this stuff, but he doesn't have the guts or the patience to ask. He's just grateful for it. He moves his hand down to Mads's crotch and gropes around underneath his balls, looking for the right spot. In the process, most of the KY rubs off on other parts, and he hopes there is still enough left on his fingers. He turns his head away from Mads's face and pushes one finger inside him, grimacing a little. Mads reaches up and grabs Hugh's face, turning it to him. “Kiss me while you're doing that,” he demands. Hugh does and finds that it helps because now Mads is starting to moan as Hugh moves his finger around and that makes Hugh more mentally comfortable. Mads says breathily, “Now two fingers.” Hugh does as he's told, and he feels just slight resistance but only for a second, then Mads is moaning again and rocking his hips a little.
After several minutes of this, Mads indicates that he can take his fingers out and he is ready for more. He changes position to kneel with his elbows on the seat of the couch and his knees on the ground, ass facing Hugh. Hugh looks at this display in utter disbelief but he can't let his mind wander too far or he will lose his nerve. He squeezes another glop of KY onto his hand and he starts to put it on his own erection, but stops to ask, "Wait – does this go on me or on you?"
"Both is fine," says Mads, a little bit exasperated. He wants to get on with it already. Hugh slathers some on himself and then up through Mads's crack. He takes his time rubbing it up and down in between Mads's ass cheeks, fascinated at what he's doing and what he's about to do. Then he positions himself for entry and puts the head of his penis up against Mads's crack, but backs away again almost immediately. Then he places it there again and kind of rubs it in between, but he's scared. He's really scared. If they do this, they are crossing a line that they cannot uncross. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.
"Yes, I'm sure. I want you. I know you want me."
"Yes, but..." All kinds of conflicting emotions are coming up for him, and a burning desire as well.
"Stop being such a Brit, Hugh. It's not that big a deal. Just stick your dick in me already," cries Mads, pushing his ass towards Hugh. With that, Hugh finally presses forward and the head of his penis disappears into Mads's hole.
Mads lets out a gasp. "Okay, stop for a moment," he says. "Don't pull out. Just hold still. Let me adjust." He breathes deeply a few times, visibly relaxing. Hugh waits, not daring to move even a millimeter, just looking down at the connection between his cock and Mads's ass. He is utterly transfixed by what he sees and his cock seems to be growing even harder than it already is.
"Okay, now slowly go in a little and then pull out, but not all the way out. Then in a little bit more. Keep doing that. Slowly though, ok?" says Mads. Hugh does exactly as instructed, pushing in through tight hot wetness that makes him feel like he might black out. He pulls back then pushes in a little further. There isn't much resistance and it doesn't take long before he is buried up to the hilt. He stops there for a moment, resting against Mads and caresses Mads's back. Then he resumes his movements, falteringly and slowly, with great concern for Mads's comfort.
"Is it okay?" he asks.
"Yes. It's good. You can go a little faster if you want. Not too much though.“
Hugh picks up pace and finds a rhythm. He retains this for several minutes, allowing himself to feel the pleasure of it. For Mads, the pleasure is starting to intensify. "Hugh." He breathes rather than speaks his friend's name.
"Umm." Hugh's eyes are half closed and he is lost in sensation. "Call me 'Will,'" he says, slipping effortlessly into his American accent.
At this Mads's arms give out and he face plants into the couch, ass in the air "Umph," he groans, "Will. Will. Fuck me, Will."
"Yes, Hannibal. I'm gonna fuck you. I'm gonna fuck you good." Being in character is flaming the fires even more, and they are both breathing heavily, grunting and groaning and feeding off each other's excitement. "Oh Will. Will, fuck me! Will. Fuck me. Yes! Harder," breathes Mads, his mouth open against the couch, bangs splayed out over the fabric, eyes looking back, seeking out Hugh's face. Hugh lets himself go then, not worrying anymore about whether he's hurting his friend or not. He pulls out and rams himself back in over and over, quickening his pace, his buttocks tensing as he pushes himself inside as far as he can go.
He pops out several times and has to reposition himself, but based on the sounds coming from Mads, he thinks he's doing a pretty good job. Plus, he's starting to lose it himself, his eyes half rolling in his head, his breathing quick and shallow, his hands gripping tightly at Mads's hips. Mads's breathing is quickening as well, but he needs his cock to be touched very badly. The fact that the tip of it is bumping against the couch at each thrust is not enough for him. He realizes that Hugh probably doesn't have the wherewithal at the moment to reach around for him, so he moves his own arm underneath him and grabs onto himself and starts pumping with abandon. "Oh, yes. Yes. Will. Fill me up. Oh God! I need it."
Hugh is inflamed by Mads's pleading and quickens his pace even more, whining and gritting his teeth. "Umm, Hannibal… Oh, God! Uh, uh, gonna come..." He feels the heat rising over his face, enveloping his head. He feels his balls tighten, and he pushes his pelvis as far forward as he can, pressing into Mads's ass, as he releases deep inside him with a grunt, toes curling inside his socks. A few more pumps and then he collapses on top of Mads's back and lays there catching his breath. At the sound and feeling of Hugh having his orgasm, Mads is now ready for his and he pumps himself hard and fast. He lets out an unbridled growl from his throat as his cock throbs, shooting as far as the couch will allow with pulse after pulse of white fluid.
When Mads is completely drained, he pulls his arm out from under him, letting it drop to his side and he makes a move to roll over. Hugh pulls out and picks up his weight enough to allow Mads to roll so that now they are facing each other again. And now they are kissing again and holding each other. And when the panting dies down and the heavy breathing dies down and the kissing dies down, all that is left is the two of them holding each other in each other's arms, hearts beating together.
"We can't ever tell anybody about this," says Mads softly, his throat raspy. "Ever."
"No. Not ever. And it can never happen again," adds Hugh, an Englishman again.
"No. Never again," agrees Mads, and then a moment later, "But if it does,..."
"No, it can never happen again," says Hugh.
"We can't tell anybody, not even our wives."
"Not especially our wives," says Hugh.
"It can never happen again," says Hugh. But even as he is saying this for the third time, they start kissing again, and neither of them is 100% sure that it won't ever happen again.