Chapter Text
Will considered himself, for all intents and purposes, a sane man, and any sane man would be terrified by his current situation. Any sane man would turn and run—run as far and fast as his feet could take him—away from Hannibal Lecter. But Will was not truly a sane man and no amount of consideration could change that.
Despite his considerations, Will had known of the darkness lingering in the back of his mind for a very long time. He knew of the beast he kept chained within himself— the madness he rarely thought to let out, the hunger he rarely thought to feed. The monster inside of him growled and clawed and cried out for Hannibal, for what he could give him, nearly starved to death from years and years of repression.
“You do not seem shocked by my admission,” Hannibal notes, expression smug as he regards Will from across the table. “Nor do you seem afraid.”
“You knew I wouldn’t be,” Will replies. “You knew… I don’t know how , Hannibal, or for how long, but you know, don’t you?”
Hannibal raises a brow, tone almost as if he is challenging Will when he says, “Would I let you see me if I did not think your reflection matched mine?”
Will hums. “You would if you wanted me as a meal.”
Hannibal licks his lips. “I do want you as a meal. I want to devour you. I want to consume you. Not in the way one would consume a pig, though.”
Will’s thighs press together under the table. “In what way, then?”
“In the way one would consume a lover,” Hannibal replies.
Will nearly loses his breath, dessert forgotten. “Do it, then, Hannibal,” he says. “Take me. Consume me.”
Hannibal grins and Will is in his arms before he knows it. They kiss as Hannibal carries Will to the stairs, only setting him on his feet so that they can make it to Hannibal’s bedroom with as few mishaps as possible.
Their hands do not leave each other for the rest of the night.
Will awakens to a warm embrace, the feeling of an arm slung over his middle, a hairy chest pressed against his back, and soft breath against his shoulder. Despite the blinding sunlight filtering through the curtains and the blaring red of the alarm clock that reads 7:00 AM, he smiles.
“Good morning,” Hannibal mumbles as he feels Will shift in his arms, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “I trust you slept well.” Hannibal's hand drifts down to Will’s hip, rubbing gently.
Will hums, the soreness he feels in the aftermath pleasant in its own way. “Like a baby.”
“Infants often sleep restlessly, I’ve heard.”
Will laughs. “I slept just fine, Hannibal, I promise. Best I’ve slept in months, I think.”
Hannibal kisses the back of his neck. “Let us hope you have more wonderful nights of rest ahead of you.”
Will snorts. “Knowing me, I’ll fuck it all up again before the week is out. Probably pull an all nighter three days from now and show up at your door looking like death.”
Hannibal chuckles. “You are always welcome in my home, Will. Though I must insist on taking better care of yourself.”
“Make me.”
Hannibal’s hold on Will tightens. “Do you think I would not care for you in every way to the very best of my abilities?”
Will shivers. He wonders what it would be like, to live life in Hannibal’s lap, always cared for, always looked after, always treated like a treasure of some sort. He would give anything for a life like that.
“I would like for you to,” Will whispers.
Hannibal nuzzles the back of Will’s neck. “I have something rather serious to ask of you first.”
Will squirms in Hannibal’s hold, turning to face him. “What is it?” he asks.
Something like fear shines in Hannibal’s eyes. “Run away with me,” he says. “Say the word and we will leave. Betray Jack…” Hannibal wraps a hand around Will’s own, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “And choose me.”
Betray Jack.
Will had not been prepared in the slightest for such an ultimatum. He should have been, he thinks. He should have expected this, but any thought of his current life and the consequences of his actions were lost last night in the haze of lust that had consumed him. Desire had overridden his system, blocking out every rational thought.
“I…” Will begins, but he doesn’t know what to say.
Hannibal’s face falls. “It is a hard decision, I know,” he says. He looks over Will’s shoulder, presumably at the alarm clock, and purses his lips. “I’m going to give you twenty-four hours, Will. When you leave, I will begin packing my bags. If you return in the morning, we will leave together. If you do not…”
“It’s goodbye, isn’t it?”
Hannibal nods. “I will not stay here to suffer, nor will I stay to watch your suffering.”
Will swallows. “I understand,” he replies softly. He moves closer to Hannibal, holding him tightly.
“If this is goodbye,” Hannibal says, his hand drifting further down Will’s back. His lips brush against Will’s. “May I? I do not wish our first time to be our last.”
Will kisses him. “Yes,” he answers, moving onto his back and pulling Hannibal on top of him. “Yes. Please, Hannibal.”
Hannibal leans down to kiss Will as he lazily ruts against his thigh.
There’s an I love you on the tip of Will’s tongue, but he swallows it down with Hannibal’s moans.
When they’re both finished, they move on to the shower, kissing every inch of skin as they gently clean each other. Will begins to fear more and more with each press of lips that this really is goodbye for them.
He doesn’t want to leave Hannibal. He doesn’t want to be without him, but he isn’t sure he’s ready to take this step. He’s standing on the edge of a cliff and all that’s left to do is jump— to plunge into the waters below, hand in hand with Hannibal, and take whatever comes next. All that’s left is to turn his back on all he’s ever known for all he’s ever wanted. The feeling is as frightening as it is enticing.
But Will needs to think. He needs to go to work, go home, sit with his dogs, and think. And then he needs to sleep, and then think some more. So he kisses Hannibal on the cheek once he’s dressed, shares a lovely breakfast with him, and prepares to leave for work.
Hannibal stops Will halfway out the front door, fingers wrapped tightly around Will’s wrist. He pulls Will back inside, and the other man makes a sudden noise of protest. Before he can question Hannibal, they’re kissing again.
Hannibal draws back slowly, the look in his eyes making Will’s heart clench painfully.
“Aš tave myliu,” he whispers.
“What?” Will asks. He isn’t sure what Hannibal said, much less in what language.
Hannibal smiles fondly, caressing Will’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Have a good day,” he replies.
“Oh,” Will says, smiling back. He pecks Hannibal on the cheek. “You have a good day, too.”
He doesn’t make any promises to come back. They both know it’s going to take more than sex, a tender shower, and a delicious breakfast to sway Will’s mind on the biggest decision he’ll ever make.
Will leaves, waving at Hannibal as he backs out of the driveway, feeling the man’s gaze on him until he disappears from sight.
Not for the last time, he hopes.
At the end of the day, Will is exhausted from both teaching and working with Jack on the latest case— a killer who’s taken to slaughtering dancers in the Baltimore area. He can’t find it in himself to be too interested, though, his every thought still focused on Hannibal. Most of his teaching and consulting was done on autopilot, his mind still contemplating his lover’s offer: leave this life behind, betray Jack, and be with him for the rest of their lives. Maybe they would even kill together, sate Will’s bloodlust as a couple.
But he can’t betray Jack. Can he? Can he betray his friend, his boss, the man who has enlisted his help for months to stop killers and save lives? To stop killers like Hannibal Lecter, and save lives like Miriam Lass’s. Can he rationalize away the casualties of Hannibal’s proclivities as Hannibal will for him? Can he leave behind everything he has ever known, the man he’s been for so long, for this one shot at a life that is truly authentic to himself?
The answer is no. No, not yet. He needs more time; more time to think, more time to learn, more time to understand. He needs more time to fall in love.
Just a little more time, he pleads. He isn’t sure to whom.
Will goes through his evening routine of letting the dogs out and preparing dinner, both for himself and his pets. He lets the pack back inside to eat, sits there and watches them as he enjoys his own food, then makes his way to the bathroom. He isn’t sure he needs a second shower in twelve hours, but he needs something to relax him, so he steps into the tub and turns on the faucet.
After basking in the feeling of hot water raining down on him for nearly an hour, Will exits the shower. He stares at himself in the mirror, wiping away the film left by the steam, catching his own startling blue gaze. For a moment, he imagines Hannibal behind him, dripping wet and leaning against his back, staring at him in their reflection. He imagines they’re in some hotel bathroom, taking a break during their trip to a new life. He reaches down to the hand he imagines is on his hip, feeling a sudden stab of disappointment when he doesn’t feel it there. He thinks about never having the opportunity to feel Hannibal’s hands on him again.
Will turns away from the mirror and dries himself off, then heads into his bedroom. He slips on a pair of boxers and a shirt before looking over at his half-open closet, spotting a suitcase he’d left in there the day he moved in. Finally, Will makes a decision. Sort of.
Will takes his time as he packs his clothes and the various belongings he wants to take with him. He doesn’t force any sort of eloquence from himself as he pens a note to Jack, and then another to Alana. He sets the packed suitcase and the two letters—now signed, sealed, and stamped—on the couch, knowing the dogs won’t bother any of it. He goes back to his room and gets into bed, then sets his alarm clock for four in the morning, around two hours before the next day’s sunrise, giving himself more time to decide when he wakes up. He’ll sleep, wake up, and decide then. It’ll all be fine, he tells himself.
Will turns off his bedside lamp and slides further under the covers, thinking of how much warmer it felt in Hannibal’s bed, in his arms. His heart clenches painfully. He tries not to think of how his few hours of happiness with Hannibal could have been his last, and finally lets sleep take him.
Will awakens to light streaming through sheer curtains and a warm body pressed against his own. He snuggles into the embrace instinctively, and the arm around his middle tightens. The press of cool metal against his abdomen sends a shock through his system and he opens his eyes. He catches sight of the alarm clock.
7:00 AM.
Something is wrong. It takes Will another moment or two of collecting his thoughts before he remembers he fell asleep alone last night— alone in his bed, with an alarm set for four in the morning. He should smell sweat and dogs and feel cold, cheap sheets against his skin. The room should be pitch dark, barely illuminated by slivers of moonlight through the blinds.
“Good morning,” a voice behind him purrs. Lips press against the back of Will’s shoulder. “I trust you slept well.”
Will stiffens. Despite the unfamiliarity of the location, the voice and the words give him a strong sense of déjà vu.
“Like a baby,” he replies warily.
A soft hum, and then, “Infants often sleep restlessly, I’ve heard.”
Slowly, Will turns over, finally coming face to face with the other person in the bed. He is both shocked and not shocked to see Hannibal’s face staring back at him. And yet…It’s not Hannibal. His hair is shorter and darker, no hint of gray or sign of product. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, a rare sight for Will to catch in Hannibal’s gaze. Even his voice is different, his accent thicker and slightly different from Hannibal’s. It’s deeper, too, sending a pleasant shiver up Will’s spine.
“Hannibal?” he whispers. “Where…” Will swallows, panic beginning to settle in alongside the confusion. “Where are we?”
“Were you drunk when you came over, sweetheart?” the man asks. “Who is Hannibal?”