Work Text:
“I kissed Alana Bloom.” Will tosses his coat aside, so distracted by his own words that he just walks in without an invitation.
“Well. Come in.” Hannibal is rarely caught off guard by someone’s words, but this is one of those times.
Will looks around the opulent dining room, only just realising that he’s intruded on Hannibal's night. “You have a guest?”
“A colleague. You just missed him.”
“Didn't finish his dinner.”
“An urgent call of some sort.” Hannibal walks past him towards the back door that Tobias has left open in his haste to leave and briskly closes it. Tobias truly is useless. “He had to leave suddenly.”
He turns towards the kitchen and Will trails after him. “This benefits you because I have dessert for two.”
He opens the oven, proudly admiring his own efforts with the bread pudding. “So. What was Alana's reaction?”
Intellectually he knows that it was Will who initiated the kiss with Alana, yet it feels like Alana is the one invading his territory. Trying to steal his rightful prize. He has killed people for far lesser grievances than this.
“She said she wouldn't be good for me, and I wouldn't be good for her.”
“I don't disagree.” He notices Will’s flash of indignation, but ignores it. He focuses on organising the dessert perfectly and watches Will out of the corner of his eye. “She would feel an obligation to her field of study to observe you, and you would resent her for it.”
“I know.” Will is exasperated with himself. It was a stupid thing to do. He knows that. Dammit, he knows that.
“Wondering then why you kissed her and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it.”
“Well, I wanted to kiss her since I met her. She's very kissable.”
That amuses Hannibal, but he isn’t about to let Will brush it off now. Will came here to figure something out or admit something, not for jokes.
“You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason, in addition to wanting to.”
“I heard an animal trapped in my chimney.” He watches as Hannibal places the cream just so on the plate. “Broke through the wall to get it out. Didn't find anything inside. Alana showed up, she looked at me… I… maybe her face changed. I don't know. But, um, she knew…”
“What did she know, Will?” he prompts.
“There was no animal in the chimney. It was only in my head.”
This fact doesn’t seem to faze Hannibal in the slightest, Will notes with relief, watching as he artfully drops chocolate shavings onto the bread pudding. He moves towards the kitchen island.
“I sleepwalk. I get headaches. I am hearing things. I feel unstable.”
“That's why you kissed her. A clutch for balance.”
And there it is laid bare between them. He tried to use Alana to keep his sanity in check and when she rejected the idea, he came here for his therapist to put him back together.
He’s unsurprised when Hannibal tries to make him feel better by blaming it all on work.
“You said yourself what you do is not good for you.”
“Well, unfortunately, I am good for it.”
Hannibal hears the warning in his tone and changes tactics. Distracting Will with work will usually give him focus. “Are you still hearing this killer's serenade behind your eyes?”
A parody of violin music echoes in his ears and Will can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Well, it's our song.”
Those words make something deep inside Hannibal snarl in rage. The idea of Will hearing Tobias’s song is utterly repugnant. Tobias is a dullard, a chicken trying to be a nightingale. He thinks of Plato’s words, that music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul. If any killer’s song should unlock the dark Monster in Will’s mind, lure it out to sing, it ought to be that of the Chesapeake Ripper. His own.
Will accepts the desert with a weak smile of thanks. He looks down at the exotic bread pudding, dutifully impressed with the elegant presentation yet too caught up with his twisted thoughts to do more than poke at it with his fork.
But it helps Hannibal choose his course of action. He wants to be the one to share that song with Will.
He might still kill Alana though.
He walks around the counter and stands beside Will. Will stops morosely pushing the fruit around his plate and turns his head, blinking at him, innocently confused.
Hannibal wraps his hands around Will’s neck, leans down, closes his eyes, and presses his lips against Will’s mouth. He hears Will’s sharp intake of breath. It’s a soft, chaste kiss, but very clear and deliberate.
He opens his eyes and leans back.
Will’s bright blue eyes are wide, stunned. He’s gripping the countertop tightly. Hannibal lets him go and waits.
“What… Why did you…”
Hannibal runs a finger down Will’s stubbled cheek, lets his hand rest on Will’s chest. “I wanted to.”
Will nods to himself. “Right.” He runs his fingers over his lips tentatively. “I… see.”
There is quiet in his head. The symphony killer’s song is silenced, imagined howling animals forgotten, Alana’s words irrelevant, it’s all just… gone. He’s almost awed by the serenity.
But what a hell of a way to achieve it. The phrase 'shocked into silence' crosses his mind.
Will experimented when he was younger, but as being sociable proved too tiresome, relationships have never been his true métier. Flirtation he can recognise, and ignore when it suits him, but he’s never gotten that impression from Hannibal. At all.
If he’s being honest with himself, Will has no idea why Hannibal Lecter, so refined in his designer suits, so perfectly controlled in everything he does, would be attracted to someone as wildly messed up as him.
So of course, his brain kicks into gear and starts picking it all apart, searching for evidence that he’s apparently missed in all their time together. He starts with the obvious.
“I kiss Alana and then you kiss me. Is this jealousy doctor?” Hannibal's face is as unreadable as ever. “Is that what this is?”
“Yes,” Hannibal says. Now is not the time for lies. He inclines his head slightly. “Partly.”
Also the truth. Of course, Will has no idea what Hannibal has planned for him.
Will runs his hands over his face. “Yes,” he repeats, stunned.
He realises that his hands are still dirty from ripping his chimney apart and looks around for a cloth to clean off his hands.
Hannibal steps aside, letting Will move over to the sink so he can wash his filthy hands, but then he comes up behind Will and brushes his lips against the back of his neck. Will shivers all over and keeps his hands under the warm water.
Deeming them finally clean, Will swallows heavily and turns to face Hannibal. Hannibal takes Will’s hands into his, carefully drying them. Will says nothing, just watches as the plush tea towel wipes water off his weathered skin.
“Have I overstepped?”
Will smiles grimly. “I don’t think something like this… will exactly give me balance.”
“Forget balance,” Hannibal whispers. “Let go.”
Will’s eyes go wide in alarm. Hannibal knows what he’s capable of, has always seen it in him. His voice is so faint he can barely choke out the words. “But… I need it.”
He brushes the curls off Will’s face. “Not when you’re with me you don’t.”
Will grabs him by the arm, pulls him close, and kisses him.
Hannibal is surprised by the intensity of the kiss. It sends a swift pang through him and Hannibal yields up his mouth without thinking, his eyes closing.
Hannibal relishes the taste of Will’s tongue, the taste of his lips, the taste of his mouth. He tastes perfect, better than he could have ever imagined.
Chills run down his spine as Will's kisses grow even fiercer and then Will completely catches him off guard.
Will’s teeth press against Hannibal’s bottom lip, just hard enough to break the skin, and a few drops of Hannibal’s blood well up.
A groan lodges itself in Hannibal's throat and he opens his eyes and sees the Monster within, staring back at him in Will’s brilliant blue eyes.
Will’s eyes are wide in alarm, appalled at what he’s done and he tries to pull away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”
“You can’t break me, Will.”
Hannibal digs his fingers into Will’s arms, pulls him close and Will smiles faintly at the painful pressure.
Hannibal captures his mouth again, tasting his own blood along with the distinct taste of Will's mouth. Will’s fingers tangle in Hannibal’s hair, scratching at his scalp. It hurts. A shiver of pleasure runs through him.
Will seems to be oddly intent on inflicting pain on him and – oh! - how Hannibal delights in pain. Will slows their frantic kissing and runs his tongue over Hannibal's lower lip, tasting the blood there. He growls softly and kisses Hannibal so hard that Hannibal sees stars behind his eyelids.
Slowly, reluctantly, they part, pressing their foreheads together, catching their breath.
Will opens his eyes.
Looking up into Hannibal's darkened eyes, taking him in properly, as if for the first time,
(Something stirs in the sweet new stillness of his mind. Its hooves stretch out. Will can feel it there, black antlers pressing against the bars he tries to keep it trapped behind)
Hannibal is surprised by how fast his heart is racing. Will is still holding him, his arms strangely comforting. How easy we fit together, he muses.
“How do you feel now?” Hannibal whispers.
“I feel…”
“You don’t have to hide from me, Will.” Hannibal nuzzles him just below his ear. “Ever.”
Will’s breath catches in his throat. To be seen… my true self recognised.
No. He has to contain that thing inside himself. The desire to keep the quiet in his head overwhelmed him and he got greedy, didn’t focus on keeping the Monster locked up and it took a bite of Hannibal.
Only it doesn’t seem as though Hannibal minds, he realises. His doctor seems extremely turned on by it.
It’s a tantalising idea. Letting the Monster inside prod at Hannibal… just a little bit. Blow off some steam, so to speak. Perhaps that’s why his brain has been all frazzled lately, that Monster he tries so desperately to hide needs to stretch its legs a little and –
No. That part of Will can never run free. That is just unthinkable. But here, with the faintest taste of Hannibal's blood in his mouth, perhaps his Monster will be sated with an evening of passion.
“What do you want of me, Will?” He takes Will’s hands in his and entwines their fingers. “Right now. What do you want of me?”
Will presses his lips to Hannibal's neck and slowly, oh so slowly, licks and kisses his way up Hannibal's neck. Hannibal allows himself to get lost in the sensation. Will reaches the pulse point in Hannibal's neck, leaves a lingering kiss, and then nips down on his ear hard. Hannibal’s breath shudders.
Alana was a mistake, he realises that now. He should have just come here first.
“You,” he whispers, still kissing and nibbling on Hannibal’s earlobe. “I want you, Hannibal.”
He can’t remember the last time he had wanted someone so desperately. As he lets Will explore his neck with his mouth and tongue and teeth, Hannibal reorganises and moves chess pieces around in his mind.
Of course, he does have other plans for Will. Wonderful and exciting plans that will be delightful to see played out but for tonight…
Tonight he wants to see how far Will will let the Monster within be freed.
He shifts his hips, grinds himself against Will, and smiles when Will groans softly, his fingers digging in. He feels Will's arousal hard against his own.
“You have me, Will,” he promises. “You have me.”
He leads Will up to his bedroom
.
Once naked, they pause to look each other over. Will sees childhood scars on Hannibal, instinctively knowing not to ask about their origin. There is something dark and forbidden about the skin long reduced into white lines against his tan body.
Hannibal sees Will’s scar, the stab wound on his shoulder because he refused to shoot his assailant, too afraid to let the Monster out that first time.
He presses his lips to it, kisses it softly, and thinks to himself: Soon. One day you’ll be truly free.
Will sighs again, leaning into him.
Will pulls Hannibal onto the massive bed. He reaches up to wrap his arms around Hannibal's neck, drawing him closer, shivering as his tongue fills Hannibal's mouth. Long moments of almost agonising enjoyment as Will draws out the torment with his tongue, gripping his shoulders.
Then he starts biting and Hannibal allows himself to be lost in the sensation, giving himself over to Will, encouraging the Monster within to sing its dark song to him.
One hand grips the silken sheets beneath him and the other presses into the strong muscles of Will’s back, urging him on.
Will leans back, looking at the man beneath, trying to decide what to do first. He wants everything. He wants to touch Hannibal all over, learn and savour every part of him. He runs a finger lightly over Hannibal's collarbone. He runs his hands over Hannibal's chest experimentally, and then he shifts back so he can lean over, and licks the tan skin beneath him, running his tongue over him, pressing down with his teeth.
Hannibal sighs softly as Will moves to a nipple and bites down hard. There is exquisite pain when Will moves over to his other nipple and bites down harder, and Hannibal claws at his back, dragging red lines of passion across Will’s skin.
Will hisses at the pain, arching his back like an eager cat, silently demanding that Hannibal do it again. Hannibal obliges, nails digging in even harder this time.
Will reaches between them and takes Hannibal in his hand, squeezing and stroking his cock.
He returns his mouth to Hannibal's, while Hannibal grows almost dizzy with desire as Will strokes him. Every few strokes, he swipes his thumb across the crown and bites into Hannibal's swollen lip.
Hannibal's lips are a little open, panting, mouthing Will's name without sound and he begins to rock into Will's stroking.
Will watches every moment. He doesn't want to miss a single gasp - every single one, each sound, belongs to him, and he wants them all.
Hannibal can’t resist, doesn’t want to. He wraps his hand around Will’s thick length.
He strokes, squeezes, and massages Will slowly but firmly. Their breath mingles, hot and uneven against each other’s skin. They bite and kiss.
Then Will twists his hips away.
Will is curious. “How long have you wanted this?”
Infuriated by his timing, Hannibal chooses to answer by creeping his hand up Will’s throat, squeezing just hard enough to make Will’s eyes darken with excitement.
Will leans over off the bed, reaching for Hannibal's discarded pants. He pulls off the belt, soft, supple leather that no doubt cost hundreds of dollars. He sits back up, straddling Hannibal, gripping the belt tightly, and looks at Hannibal’s hands.
Hannibal's eyes gleam. Their duet just got more interesting.
“You’re sure?” Will asks, his voice husky with desire.
Hannibal runs his fingers along Will's neck. Will shivers. “Yes,” he breathes against Will's stubbled cheek.
Let the Monster out, he thinks. Know what it’s like to be a true god.
Will pins his wrists above his head, binds them with the belt. Looking down at Hannibal, tied up and at his mercy, he can feel the darkness inside himself unleashed. It’s a fever in his veins, his entire body crackles like a live wire.
He feels alive.
His hands travel down, thumbs massaging the strong muscles of Hannibal's powerful thighs.
Hannibal looks down. Realising he’s being watched, Will smiles slowly, wickedly, taking his time, his eyes not leaving Hannibal's.
Hannibal smiles back at him – at the Monster within, watching as Will leaves a trail of love bites as he makes his way down Hannibal's abdomen.
Will nuzzles the inside of Hannibal’s thigh, teeth brushing over the skin. Hannibal gasps as Will's tongue runs up and down his length before closing his mouth over him. He gently sucks, his tongue stroking, lightly at first, but then harder.
Hannibal lifts his head so he can watch as Will takes him deep into his warm, wet mouth. His entire body shivers with pleasure. Will's nails trail up the inside of his thighs, scratching and marking him. He sucks harder and Hannibal moans, his head dropping back.
It’s not quite the same rush of power he felt when he killed Hobbs, Will thinks. But seeing Hannibal writhe, bucking in the sheets, and moaning like this as he uses his mouth on him is very, very close.
Just as Hannibal begins to get drawn near to climax, Will releases him. He crawls back up so his face is just over Hannibal's. Hannibal's chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.
“Tell me what you want,” Will orders.
Unable to hold him, Hannibal presses their foreheads together. “I want you inside me,” he whispers back, urging the Monster on. He grinds their hard cocks together, desperate for friction, smiling when he hears a soft growl in reply.
Will grabs the lube from the nightstand and slicks up his fingers. Will kisses him, bites his ear, and then slides a long finger inside Hannibal, watching his face intently.
Hannibal gasps, his back arching, but it is from pleasure, not pain.
Will can’t believe he is being permitted to do this. My chains have been cast aside and I can do whatever I want. Hannibal has given him permission.
Will kisses his stomach, moving his finger gently, stroking that sweet spot, taking his time. Hannibal moans, and Will watches as he loses himself in the sensation. Again, Will kisses Hannibal's belly lightly and adds another finger, smiling to himself when Hannibal gasps even louder and writhes beneath him.
Will leans forward enough to press their lips together. The force of Will's kisses increases, more biting than kissing.
“Now, Will,” he gasps between kisses.
Will draws back a little and Hannibal sees the Monster lurking in those burning blue eyes.
“Beg me.” He sounds almost taunting in his demand.
Will pushes his fingers in and out, each thrust striking deep.
Hannibal's back arches again, his eyes closing as he relishes the pleasure Will gives him. You have no idea, he thinks, but you should consider yourself lucky that the Chesapeake Ripper has given himself over to you. You don’t realise what dangerous words you just spoke.
Will continues his relentless possession, waiting to hear the words from Hannibal's lips.
The last person that told Hannibal Lecter to beg had his throat ripped out and his body has never been found.
“Please,” Hannibal groans beneath him. He wants to see the Monster so he will play along. “Please Will!”
Pacified, Will nudges Hannibal's legs further apart and slicks himself.
Will bites down into the curve of Hannibal's neck as he thrusts forward. Hannibal hisses as Will’s teeth dig into the flesh of his neck, arching his back, wanting Will more than anything else.
Will goes still, taking in the surreal intimacy of the moment, the sensation of their bodies fitting so perfectly together.
(A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention, a flash of black, and there is the stamping of sharp hooves)
He finds the right angle again, the one that makes Hannibal arch up to him, withdraws partway, and looks into Hannibal’s eyes.
“Watch my face,” he orders. He moves forward, gasping as he does so. Sweat rolls off his body.
Hannibal's eyes don’t leave Will's, allowing himself to be captivated by the sensation of Will inside him.
With his wrists bound, he’s denied the ability to touch Will and he so desperately wants to. He wants to feel Will’s skin under his hands, grip his ass and pull him close, run his fingers through those soft, dark curls. Instead, all he can do is twist and squirm against the leather in frustration and eagerly take what the Monster gives him.
Will seems to sense his frustration and wraps his arms around Hannibal to hold him down, rolling his hips in a ruthless rhythm. Hannibal rises to meet him each time.
Will looks down at the man below him and all he can think is: mine.
Abruptly, Will pulls out and rolls him onto his side, and enters him from behind.
And then with each powerful thrust, the Monster begins to bite his back, and he can feel the teeth sinking into his sweat-damp skin, threatening to break it, but choosing to bruise him instead. Hannibal gasps raggedly each time Will fills him and his teeth mark him. Yes, he thinks. Yes. Be free.
“What do you feel?” Will whispers, tipping Hannibal’s face to his.
Hannibal moans as Will thrusts into him. “You,” he pants, looking into the eyes of the Monster. “I feel you.”
Feeling Will deep inside him, his head tilts back a little as Will moves back and forth slowly, hitting the sweet spot that makes him shudder every time. Will’s breath is hot on the back of his neck.
Will withdraws and rolls Hannibal over to face him and fills him again.
(There is no light to be found, only the vast maw of the dark)
Will is a frenzied mess, biting Hannibal everywhere he can reach as he thrusts. Hannibal arches to meet him and writhes in turn, wanting more. He can feel the need for release growing closer and closer, doesn’t know how much longer he can hold off…
“Will,” he gasps in warning. “Will!”
Will's eyes are glazed, gasping with each powerful thrust. Hannibal watches in fascination, awed by the sight. This was not Will in control of himself.
This is Will, freed, too caught in his – their – lust to keep the Monster locked away.
He is beautiful to behold.
Will braces himself as best he can on one arm and places a wrist against Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal's eyes widen slightly, questioningly, and Will nods.
“I want you to bite down on me when you come,” he confirms. He nuzzles into the space under Hannibal's ear and then pulls on Hannibal's hair.
(The dark delights in his debasement, thriving on his violent lust. There’s excited snorting and antlers toss eagerly, waiting)
Hannibal arches up, shivering with sheer delight at the prospect of Will’s demand. Biting Will during his peak, tasting him like this, was not something he had anticipated at all.
As Will’s movements become brutal and frantic, Hannibal meets every thrust. Hannibal urges him on, wanting him, needing him, to watch, moaning against Will's skin and his body tightens, closer and closer to release.
Will, feels Hannibal's teeth begin to press into him.
His teeth dig into Will’s flesh, pressing down against the hard muscle and tendons, indenting the skin, and this time, it breaks.
Marking him. Branding Will as his.
Hannibal holds Will’s wrist through the cresting wave, and the taste of him carries him high and washes everything else away.
When Hannibal bites, Will comes. His entire body seems to dissolve into dark ecstasy. He's no longer a creature of skin and nerves; he's just pleasure, holding onto the twin sensations to guide him through.
Hannibal lets go of him and they stare at each other, trying to catch their breath.
Will withdraws slowly, exhilarated, and his eyes flick over to the corner of the room.
(The raven feathered stag stands in the corner. Its unfathomable eyes watch him and its black head is held high, and proud of what he has just done. It stays still and silent and yet seems to whisper promises of dark glory)
Will reaches up to undo the belt, lets it fall to the floor. He looks down at Hannibal, the bruises and bites, looks at the aching bite mark on his wrist. A testament to his own unbalanced mind.
(See? A dead voice hisses and beside him, an all too familiar corpse grins smugly. See?)
A knot begins to form in his stomach.
.
After they have showered, they lie in bed, and Will massages Hannibal's shoulders, kneading the aching muscles carefully. The lights are off, though a sliver of moonlight slips in between the heavy curtains.
Hannibal has gone slack against him, eyes closed, his breath slow and even. Of course, the good doctor doesn’t do anything as undignified as snore to confirm if he’s fallen asleep. Despite the dim light, it gives Will a chance to inspect the damage he’s wrought on Hannibal's person.
Will cringes, rubbing the red marks on Hannibal's wrist ever so gently. It will be days before some of these fade away.
“Will.” Hannibal is watching him. “I would have stopped you if I didn’t want it to happen.”
He tilts Will’s face to his. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”
Will smiles awkwardly. It’s very rare that he hears fond words like that. Most people just want him for his supposed ‘gift’. Not like… this.
Hannibal runs his fingers over the mark he left on Will’s wrist and kisses it ever so gently. Will’s breath catches.
Hannibal keeps his eyes on Will’s as he breathes his words over his mark. “Be proud of this.”
(Behind him, the stag stamps its ebony hoof and swings its antlers as if agreeing)
Will studies Hannibal. “Your eyes,” Will says wonderingly, bringing a hand up to cradle his face. “It’s like… it’s like you can see all of me.”
Hannibal smiles. “Not yet. But I will. One day.” He pushes himself up and kisses Will gently. “I see what lies below the surface. You just haven’t let it out yet.”
Will lowers his eyes, sees all the purple bruises and bite marks that adorn Hannibal's body. He feels like he’s choking on the shame of what he’s done.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“With me, you can.”
He has confessed dark things about himself to Hannibal before. Hannibal may very well know him better than anyone else in the world. Yet Hannibal was still a mystery to him.
(The raven feathered stag snorts and fades from view)
Will’s brow furrows slightly, confused, but is relieved that it’s gone. He resumes massaging Hannibal's shoulders.
“And will I see you in return?”
It has been a long time since Hannibal has felt genuine affection for another. In all truth, he has only vague memories of it, and those memories are hidden away.
He recognises the signs of it in people, a checklist to be ticked off. Listens to them drivel on about the problems in their love lives on an all too frequent basis. Any relationships he has are short-lived illusions.
Perhaps it’s possible that he is not immune to such things.
To be truly seen, truly known, by Will is an interesting prospect. He thinks that he could see Will at his side, knife in hand as together they cut into a body, blood streaking his face. Helping him cook their kill. Sitting across from him at the table as they eat the perfectly prepared meal. A meal for two gods.
“I hope so,” Hannibal says softly and leans back into Will’s soothing touch.
.
Hannibal of course insists on making him breakfast. Will is both amused and pleased by the hottokeki. He probably would have just gotten a crappy breakfast burrito somewhere, though he’d never admit that to Mr Foodie Fusspot here. Though the look of disgusted outrage he would have gotten could have been worth it.
Hannibal pours their coffee into cups that probably cost more Will’s sofa. He’s frowning uncertainly.
Will pauses, fancy pancake partway to his mouth. “What is it?”
Will would figure it out soon enough, Hannibal reasons, making a show of toying with his cup. He’s a clever boy. But Tobias is a fly that needs to be swatted promptly.
“I hesitate telling you this, as it borders on a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. A patient told me yesterday he suspects a friend of his may be involved with the murder at the symphony.”
Will sighs, dropping his fork, appetite for his delicious breakfast lost. His head fills with shrieking music, the cries of the unavenged dead. A serial killer’s symphony.
“Right, um... Um... what did he say about his friend?”
.
“I killed two men.”
As Franklin pathetically rambles on, Hannibal thinks of Will, hot and hard, of being pinned beneath him, watching the Monster be free. If Tobias has stolen Will from him, had the audacity to rob him of ever experiencing that again…
(Skeletal hands begin to pound on the tightly locked doors of his memory palace and a child’s voice, small and frightened, begins to call out his name over the music in his head)
He snaps Franklin’s neck.
He moves in for the kill and the little girl’s voice is drowned out once more.
.
Hannibal looks up as Will enters the office and he lets out a shaky breath, painfully aware that his eyes are damp with unshed tears. He notices that Will’s hand is sporting a bandage. He’s been hurt. He wishes he could kill Tobias all over again, piece by piece, for daring to hurt his Will.
“I was worried you were dead.”
Will nods in acknowledgment of his concern, his eyes soft, but there is something dark and angry in them too.
He watches Hannibal as Jack speaks, raging at himself. If only he’d acted quicker, Hannibal wouldn’t have been hurt. He asks his own questions, trying to pull the evidence together, see it clearly, but there are simply too many people, too many distractions, and he can’t make it work.
Displeased with the answers for some inexplicable reason, Jack sulks off to study the scene.
Will slides onto the desk. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world.”
Hannibal shakes his head. “I got here on my own,” he soothes. He looks up. “But I appreciate the company.”
Will smiles.
.
Night has fallen before the last of the police officers leave Hannibal's office. He insisted on staying to oversee their work, but it will probably be another day before he can hire crime scene cleaners to come in and sanitise the building.
Will has been silent a long time staring at the spot where Tobias’s body lay until it was carted away. Still trying to work out Tobias’s deathly design and if Franklin worked into it in some way. He’s missing something. Perhaps it will reveal itself at Tobias’s house or even Franklin’s. Tobias was performing for someone and he wants to know if they got the message.
His head aches and his ears are still ringing a little from the gunshot a little. It’s nothing compared to Hannibal's injuries. Will winces – stabbed on top of all the aches and pains he’d left on him.
“I should take you home,” he says abruptly. “Let you get some rest.”
Hannibal blinks. He’s been enjoying the calmness of their solitude amongst the wreckage of his office. He looks over at Will.
“I’m sorry I put you in danger.”
Will shrugs it off. “Ah, we would have caught him sooner or later. He wasn’t being subtle.” He gathers his nerve to ask what he really wants to know.
“Did the uh, paramedics say anything about the uh…”
“No.” Hannibal shakes his head. “I sent them off. It’s shallow enough that I can treat it at home by myself.”
“About last night…” Will begins hesitantly.
Hannibal studies him. Once more, Will has repressed the Monster. Forced it deep within and made it slumber. A pity.
“I understand.”
He can be patient. He reaches out and tucks a strand of Will’s messy hair behind his ear. He will set free the Monster inside and it will be beautiful. One day he will have Will at his side and they will kill together. Blood will flow.
There is time.
He presses his lips to Will’s temple. “It was beautiful music we made – even if it was only for a night.” The corner of his mouth. “I am always here for you.”
His fingers slide up the cuff of Will’s oversized coat and find his teeth marks, his brand, in Will’s skin. He brushes over them. “All of you. I hope you know that.”
Will trembles at the touch, unable to speak. Hannibal didn’t care how unhinged he was. He welcomed it. Embraced it eagerly.
But he can’t be allowed to give in to his darker self. To be someone like Tobias Budge. Like Garret Jacob Hobbs. To feel that thrill, that power again. To be God again.
Even if Hannibal would let him feel that while in his arms again, it’s just too intoxicating, too dangerous.
I’d want it all the time.
He knows that, knows himself well enough to know that terrible truth.
Will swallows heavily. “Let’s get you home.”
.
As they walk past the spot where Tobias Budge’s blood still stains the floor, a dark smear on the pristine wood, Will suddenly remembers the guest that Hannibal had over for dinner last night. The one that left so quickly out the back door.
Something scratches at the back of his brain, trying to get his attention.
He glances over at Hannibal. He’s loosening his collar and Will can see one of the marks he’s left on the curve of his neck. Suddenly all he can taste is Hannibal's tongue in his mouth, feel his hot breath against his skin.
He reaches for his bottle of aspirin instead and pops open the lid.
.
Hannibal smiles, singing inside.
.
END