HANNIGRAM ;3
(Open, Moderated)
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Summary
Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims."
"Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?"
"My Alpha's discretion."
Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."
Series
- Part 1 of Doctor's Orders
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“Just a sandwich, o-ok?” he stuttered, as Hannibal nuzzled beneath his ear. “Turkey, or ham and cheese...”
- “I can do that,” Hannibal assured, as he sucked Will's earlobe into his mouth.
“N-nothing fancy,” Will moaned, as his hands worked to pull Hannibal's shirt from his trousers.
“Nothing fancy,” Hannibal agreed, as he unzipped Will's fly with crafty fingers.
**
Awful man, Will cursed silently the following Monday. Awful, awful man.
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Every day at work, Will's lunchbox is filled with decadent creations, prompting questions from curious coworkers. Hoping to solve the matter, he asks Hannibal for a 'simple' sandwich, but quickly learns Hannibal doesn't quite grasp the meaning of this. Or does his boyfriend have an ulterior motive for his lavish lunches?
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Hannibal just wanted a simple cup of coffee. Too bad he has to deal with a mouthy barista who refuses to spell his name correctly.
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From self-righteous anger, personal wrath, and betrayal - Hannibal had imagined a variety of emotions that Will would possibly be emitting once they’d finally met face to face after his release from prison.
Every deliciously potent emotion was welcome. He yearned to see those blue eyes alight with fire. Yearned for their focus - now unveiled from the so-called ‘person suit’ Hannibal wished to free him from.
Perhaps Will would be hurt, that his only friend had betrayed him so deeply.
What he had not considered, however, was something else entirely.
Indifference.
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For HannibalCreative's #ItsStillBeautiful event. (And now added to Fresh_Meat_Friday!)
He can hear the formulation of something scathing on the tip of Hannibal's tongue, the man incapable of holding it in, so he forges on, reformulates, lets his eyes drop down, his brows draw together. He shakes his head in the way he knows Hannibal likes. “No, I mean...” He pauses, then looks up under his lashes, as coy as possible. “I wish you could give me a baby. Yours. And mine.” He steps closer, presses up against solid warmth, knocks their knees together, lifts his arms to clutch at Hannibal's shoulders.
Bites his lip.
“I wish you could make me pregnant.”
Hannibal's pupils blast open, and something seems to crack on his face.