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"Will, I wanted to be the first to let you know that we're on our way to Dr. Lecter's house to interview him regarding involvement in Abel Gideon's disappearance and the security guard’s murder. Call me when you get this." Jack's voicemail rang metallic through the speaker of Will's cellphone.
Will had been up all night bouncing between shooting back another finger of whiskey and mulling over what he knew about the Chesapeake Ripper case. The reason he made it to the bottom of the bottle and ended up losing sleep altogether on this particular night is because he had finally figured it out.
The Chesapeake Ripper had been Hannibal all along. It was obvious, really.
And that posed a problem. Well...several problems.
Problem one—Will was technically supposed to be on bed rest for another week to fully recover from his encephalitis and therefore did not have all of the details on the case that he would have liked. He couldn't logic Hannibal out of the issue at hand.
Problem two—Because of his still-healing brain, the alcohol he drank that night was a noticeably bad idea. He ached all over and looked like hell.
Problem three—arguably the biggest problem—Will was still in love with Hannibal despite his epiphany.
He had realized that he was in love with the man the minute he had stepped into the disheveled office and felt immeasurable relief wash over him at the sight of Hannibal still alive, victorious over his attacker, Tobias Budge. Will, the self-doubting dumbass that he was, still hadn't made a move because he was in it so deep for Hannibal that he couldn't bear messing it up and ruining his chances at a relationship. Hannibal understood him completely and accepted him perfectly as no one else had ever understood or accepted him before. He wasn't about to lose that.
And yes, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a cannibalistic serial killer who had killed his only friend while he was lying helpless in a hospital bed, but Will didn't care. He dialed his phone instead.
Under normal circumstances, he would have kept waiting for Hannibal to make the first move. Fortunately and unfortunately for them both, these were not normal circumstances.
"Hannibal," he exhaled as the line connected.
"Will, this is unexpected," the soothing timbre of Hannibal's voice further cemented his decision.
"Jack's on his way over to interrogate you about Gideon's disappearance. I assume you have no alibi?"
"Why would you assume that? Do you believe I am culpable?"
"I'm on my way." Will hung up. He shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his car keys from the hook by the door, and sped all the way to Hannibal's house.
He parked a block away and sprinted through the chilly, misty morning air to the fence surrounding Hannibal’s backyard. Jack still wasn't there. Will's healing body protested the sudden exertion, and it took him a couple of tries to scale the wall and finally drop onto the carefully manicured lawn on the other side. He had just barely made it through the back door and into the dining room when he heard the doorbell ring. It was most certainly Jack.
Will had an idea. He didn't come to Hannibal's empty-handed, so to speak. He had the time to strategize on the car ride over, but his plan still made him nervous as all hell. It could go wrong on so many fronts, but it could also go so, so right.
Will unlaced his muddy boots and peeled off his sweaty clothes, throwing them into a heap in the pantry, until he was standing on the marble floor, shaking in nothing but his boxers.
"Hello, Jack," he heard Hannibal's distant voice as the front door was opened. Footsteps sounded through the foyer and down the hall towards the living room. Will crept to the door and peered around the corner. They were out of sight. Good.
"What can I do for you?" Hannibal was the picture of ease. No tension was betrayed in his calm voice whatsoever.
Jack, on the other hand, was noticeably short with his words. "Gideon took a fall down a stairwell last night. Was hospitalized. Security guard standing watch was killed in what looks to be another Chesapeake Ripper murder. Now Gideon is nowhere to be found."
Will tiptoed down the hall as the man spoke and dashed past the open door to the living room as quick as he could. It was risky, but no one seemed to be paying attention. It was going to be much more convincing if he came through the other side of the room, anyway.
"He escaped?" Hannibal feigned perfect innocence.
"We know he didn't walk out of the hospital. His back was broken. Someone took him. Someone he knew," Jack's shoe squeaked as he moved closer to Hannibal. "Where were you last night?"
"Here."
"All night?"
"Yes."
Will crept towards the other entrance, sensing his cue was about to present itself. He ruffled his already wild hair even more.
This had better work.
"Anyone besides you can verify that?"
Will let the silence hang heavy for a split second past comfortable before finally stepping into the room, rubbing imaginary sleep from his eyes, and folding his arms over his bare chest.
"I can."
Jack's jaw dropped before he could stop himself. As much as Will enjoyed the shock flashing through the stern man's eyes, he enjoyed the look on Hannibal's face much, much more. It was absolutely dripping with bewilderment and, more thrillingly, desire at the sight of him disheveled and in nothing but his underwear. He could have sworn he even heard Hannibal squeak quietly in surprise.
Will tried to not blush as he leaned casually against the doorway. "I was here with Hannibal all night, Jack. What are you accusing him of?"
"I'm not accusing him of anything," Jack cleared his throat. "Only asking his whereabouts."
Hannibal composed himself and the cool, unbothered mask was back on his face. "That's not all you were asking."
Jack nodded stiffly and hesitantly turned to leave. "Will...a word?"
"Jack, I am afraid now is not the time," Hannibal all but growled as he led the man from the room and out the front door.
Will let out the shaking breath he had been holding in and grabbed a soft green throw blanket from the nearby velvet armchair and wrapped it around himself. He felt cold and exposed in more ways than one. He heard the front door being closed and locked. Footsteps fell rapidly as Hannibal made his way purposefully into the room once more.
"Will—"
He held up a hand to interrupt. "Before you say anything, it's my turn to talk, Hannibal." He rounded the coffee table and plopped down on the plush grey Chesterfield couch, folding his shaking legs beneath him. He met Hannibal's dark eyes. "I know."
"You know... what?" Hannibal moved closer to him, a menacing spark in his eyes.
A pause.
"I. Know."
The other man inhaled sharply and Will caught Hannibal's gaze darting around the room for a weapon. As if he needed one.
"Hannibal, relax," Will almost rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to turn you in. It's fine."
Another pause.
"It's...fine?"
Will rose from the couch and took a step towards Hannibal, clutching the blanket around him. "Yes."
"When?"
"I figured it out last night."
"And yet here you are," Hannibal’s guarded expression softened into a Mona Lisa smile.
"Here I am." Will stepped closer.
The man's breath hitched and his posture straightened even more. "Why?"
Another step closer. "You know why." He stared Hannibal in his golden-maroon eyes and let the sincerity pour past his mental forts and into the room around them. He was risking everything, being so vulnerable.
Hannibal closed the remaining distance and lifted a hesitant hand to cup Will’s stubbled cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into the touch. Hannibal smelled warm, like the morning sun shining through a forest after it had rained. He exhaled and placed his hands on the man’s broad chest, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders and pool onto the rug below. The room stilled as they both held their breath, Hannibal’s thumb brushing over his cheek, soft and gentle and nothing like a murderer’s fingers should be. Will felt no fear—only safety.
When Will opened his eyes, he met Hannibal’s and was flooded with the aching, desperate longing that shone through them. His own stormy eyes reflected the sentiment like a mirror.
“Will,” the man said his name like a prayer. Reverent. “May I—”
“Please.”
Their lips met, gentle and exploring at first—as if they both wanted to memorize everything about the moment. Will’s hands slid into Hannibal’s soft hair and he shivered when he felt warm fingers skimming feather-light touches across his bare ribs and down his spine. Their kiss deepened in mutual hunger, searching hands clutching tighter. Will traced the other man’s pointed cupid’s bow and coaxed his tongue between Hannibal’s lips, which pressed bruisingly firm against his own. Hannibal parted his lips and, with equal fervor, they both began to devour each other.
He let loose a moan into the other man's mouth as he was pulled even closer, his bare skin pressed against soft cashmere. Liquid heat poured through his skin at each touch and pooled low in his gut.
Will was the first to pull back for air, grazing his teeth over Hannibal’s full bottom lip, eliciting an inaudible whine.
"I want you," he whispered.
“You’re supposed to be in bed resting.” It was clear that Hannibal was trying to convince himself to do the ‘right’ thing more than actually denying Will.
Will wanted to break him.
“Convince me that bed can’t be yours, Hannibal.” Will fawned up at him through his lashes, a clear intent to manipulate.
It worked anyway.
With a growl that set loose butterflies in Will’s stomach, Hannibal nipped sharp teeth at his jaw and lifted him off the ground. Will clung to Hannibal as if for dear life and locked his arms around the man's broad shoulders and his legs around his waist.
Their pelvises met and Will gasped when he felt the thickening length of Hannibal's erection grind against his own. He pressed himself closer with a gentle roll of his hips and he felt like he could just die when Hannibal's sucking warm kisses vibrated with moans into his neck. He wove his fingers into Hannibal's silver-blonde hair and pulled him back up into another violent kiss. The splayed hands caressing his back continued to sear through his bare skin and intensified the molten craving within him.
Without realizing it, Will had been carried up the stairs and down the hall towards Hannibal's bedroom. Not missing a beat, Hannibal kicked the door open, clearly damaging something if the sound of the cracking wood told Will anything. He was flung onto the plush bed, flushed and panting. He propped himself up on his elbows and fixated on the hedonistic way in which Hannibal’s eyes raked over every inch of him. He had never felt more alive.
Will couldn't just lay there, the emotions pouring from the other man were unbearably intense and made him want to cover up and finish undressing all at the same time. He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, fisting a hand into the front of Hannibal's crimson sweater and yanking him closer until he stood obediently between Will's parted legs. Will needed to touch him, to know that this moment was real and not a hallucination clinging onto the dregs of infection in his brain. He needed Hannibal to know how he had longed for him; to trust him.
His hands skimmed under Hannibal’s cashmere sweater and caressed the warm skin at his sides, his back, his stomach. With a fluid motion, Hannibal shed his top and threw it, uncharacteristically careless, into a heap on the ground behind him. He placed a hand on Will's shoulder and the other into his wild, dark curls. Will could feel his warm breath reflect off Hannibal's stomach and back into his own face, they were so close.
With a coy glimmer flickering in his ocean eyes up at Hannibal, Will pressed a kiss to the man's bare abdomen. The hand in his hair tightened and he could have sworn Hannibal purred. So he did it again, and again, teasing and licking and tasting and relishing in the twitch of Hannibal’s clothed cock against his neck. Will felt both powerful and helpless at the same time. Torturing Hannibal was torturing himself.
Will dipped his wandering fingers just under the elastic waistband of Hannibal’s pajama pants. His tremulous hands teased the smooth, warm skin at the base of Hannibal’s spine. "Do you—can I—"
"Will," Hannibal whined, his feverish eyes pleading, lip trembling almost imperceptibly.
It was an emphatic yes, so Will tugged down his pants and silk boxers in one go, keeping his flaming eyes peering up at Hannibal’s through dark lashes. The grip on his shoulder tightened as Hannibal's length sprang free from its confines and grazed the stubbled skin of Will's cheek. Will pressed another kiss to Hannibal's abdomen as he slid his hand over a dipping hip bone and onto and around the aching cock in front of him.
Hannibal was very clearly bewitched by the sight of Will in front of him if his frantic, gasping sighs were any gauge.
"Do you know, Hannibal, how long I've needed you?" Will whispered against his skin as he began to lightly stroke the man.
"At least a month or two fewer than I've needed you," he choked out with his head thrown back.
Will's hand stilled and Hannibal whined silently at the loss of friction. "Why didn't you do anything sooner?"
"The same could be asked of you."
"I was waiting for you to make a move," he stared up at him.
"And I was waiting for you," Hannibal chuckled.
"We're idiots."
"Quite s—" Hannibal was rudely interrupted by Will's tongue, licking him from base to tip.
Will took as much as he could into his mouth in one, sudden motion. His tongue pressed flat against Hannibal and he memorized the salty taste and thrilling way his airflow was almost cut off by the intrusion into his throat. It had been a really long time since he had done this, but unless Will’s intuition was suddenly horribly wrong, the choking, languid groan coming from the trembling man before him was anything but a complaint.
Gripping the back of Hannibal's thighs, he worked himself up and down, humming a vibrating moan against the cock in his mouth when both hands came to fist his hair. Hannibal’s grip was gentle though insistent, allowing Will to maintain the leisurely pace with which he worshipped. Of course Hannibal would be a patient lover—the man was patient in every other aspect of his life. And Will, ever rebellious, wanted to break even further past that facade of control. He wanted Hannibal to act as desperate for Will as Will was for him.
He wasn't about to be done until he had turned Hannibal into a shaking, whining mess.
He picked up his pace and forced himself to take more, fingernails digging bruising crescents into Hannibal’s hips. Will made himself still, his nose pressed against Hannibal’s pelvis, partially to overcome his throat’s instinctual contractions, and partially so he would have time to look up at Hannibal’s face. And what a sight it was. Hannibal’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown impossibly wide. His usually controlled hair was hanging carelessly in his eyes, and his bottom lip was just barely bleeding and trembling from where it was held between his sharp teeth.
If Will could have smiled, he would have. Instead, he pulled back in satisfaction but mostly in selfish desire to have his own growing needs met. He was by no means complete in his quest to absolutely ruin Hannibal, but it was a start.
Hannibal leered down at Will and, now seemingly lacking his usual patience, pushed Will flat onto his back while going to kneel down.
“You don’t have to—” Will could hardly believe the words escaping him, so he caught himself with a hand to his mouth.
Hannibal was already inching Will’s boxers down over his hips when he suddenly stopped at his words. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” He sounded mildly disappointed.
“God—no, I want everything. Please.” This was hardly the time for his self-worth issues to rear their ugly head. He was going to take.
“Very well,” Hannibal purred. The smirk on the man’s face would have been disturbing in any other context, given his murderous tendencies, but right now, it made the bottom of Will’s stomach drop almost nauseatingly hard in desire.
He tilted his hips up to allow himself to be undressed more easily. His boxers were cast aside, again without care. Hannibal lifted Will’s legs up onto his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the inside of Will’s thigh as his lips inched closer. It was agonizing.
Will had nothing to do with his hands, so he clutched the silky sheets at his side. It was a good call, since it meant he had something tactile to ground him in reality when he felt a warm tongue press against him. “Hannibal—” he gasped.
The obscene sounds that came from the man licking into him were eclipsed by the keening moans escaping Will’s throat. He was squirming helplessly and impossibly hard but he couldn’t help but wrap his legs further around Hannibal’s shoulders and pull him closer.
He was overwhelmed as it was, but he needed more. “Hannibal, please—”
Hannibal pulled back and looked up at Will. By the smug smirk on his face, it was clear that Will was looking thoroughly debauched. “Yes, Will?”
“Fuck me.”
Hannibal’s smirk dropped and Will could have sworn he saw a red glint in the man’s eyes. It looked almost like bloodlust, and in a way, he supposed it was. It was another crack in the facade, and it drove Will mad when Hannibal just froze in place.
"You're still healing, it would be unwise to—"
Will dropped his legs back to the floor and pushed himself into a seating position. “I said,'' he leaned down, almost menacing in his stare, and put a hand to Hannibal’s throat. “Fuck me.”
He felt Hannibal swallow against the pressure of his hand as he gazed into the man’s fluttering eyes. He liked being choked. Interesting.
“Anything,” Hannibal whispered, reverent, and rose to stand.
Will slid back towards the center of the bed as Hannibal caged him into a kiss, elbows on either side of his blushing face. Will thrust his hips up against Hannibal's and swallowed a groan when they slid against each other.
Hannibal fumbled to grab something from a nightstand while he kissed a trail along Will's collarbones. A bottle clicked open and Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal's waist in anticipation.
"God—please—Hannibal—" Will moaned when he felt a finger press against him, teasing and massaging and agonizingly gentle. When he was finally breached, the sharp gasp he let out had Hannibal chuckling as he kissed down Will's chest. It was not surprising that Hannibal was also enjoying Will coming apart at the seams. The finger continued into him, coming to hook at the bundle of nerves that made Will twitch in pleasure. They were equally matched in their desire to make the other fall apart at their hand.
By the time a third finger was worked inside, Will was rocking against Hannibal's gentle thrusts. But Will was done being patient—done letting Hannibal break him apart. He locked his legs around Hannibal's waist and flipped them over so he was straddling the man.
"So impatient—" Hannibal's snark was promptly cut off with a biting kiss.
"You've had plenty of experience in ruining me at your hand, one way or another. It's my turn now." Will dipped back in for another kiss but was stopped by a hand to his chest.
"My dear Will, what makes you think you haven't rearranged my whole being time and time again?" His eyes were soft but his words were serious. "I have always been, and will always remain, entirely at your mercy."
Will blinked.
As insightful as he was, there always seemed to be a blind spot—a void—in that insight when it came to his relationship with Hannibal. He supposed it must be due to the fact that no one in the history of his life had ever had the ability to see and understand him so completely. So when Hannibal showed up in his life, was able to see him fully, and still wanted to be a part of it, Will was perpetually suspended in disbelief.
Even though Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, he was still too good to be true.
"Hannibal, I—" he wouldn't say it. Not yet.
"Yes, Will?" Hannibal's shining eyes, gazing up at Will through pale lashes were impossibly innocent for someone so well-acquainted with darkness.
God damn this man.
But he wouldn't say it. So he deflected.
"Um, condoms? Did you—" As objectively irresponsible as it was to fuck a serial killer, Will didn't want to be too irresponsible.
"I assume they tested you in the hospital?"
"Yes, I'm negative."
"As am I. I shall leave the choice up to you."
Will leaned back and poured some lubricant onto Hannibal, straight from the bottle so it was cold, delighting in the nearly imperceptible wince it elicited.
"For what it's worth," Will stared coyly and pointedly at Hannibal as he began to slick up his cock. "I would like nothing more than to experience you raw—in all aspects of our relationship."
Hannibal’s predatory eyes widened at his words.
Will lifted himself up and began to sink down onto Hannibal, inch by torturous inch, as slowly as his patience could manage. He needed to watch each tremor of Hannibal's pupils as they dilated with each involuntary contraction of Will's body as he got used to the invasion. And oh, God, did Hannibal feel incredible. It took all the control left in Will's being to not start moving immediately. But the opportunity to further destroy Hannibal's composure was too much to deny for such a pedestrian thing as his own immediate gratification.
So he stayed still for a minute, which honestly felt like hours, panting and trailing his fingers across the bruises he had kissed into Hannibal's stomach.
"Will—"
"Yes?" He quirked a brow in challenge and remained motionless.
"Move." Hannibal was whining, and it was delicious.
"Why Dr. Lecter, it appears you've forgotten your manners. Terribly rude." Will leaned down to place his hands at either side of Hannibal's face, and even that slight shift provided friction enough to have them both gasp. Will stared into the half-lidded eyes of the man below him. "Beg."
"Please, Will."
"I said beg." Will's hand moved to squeeze Hannibal's throat.
Hannibal, the vicious force of nature that he was, was trembling now, just as Will had wanted. He was brought down low to the point where he was forced to choose between his pride and his lust. It was hardly a small surprise to them both that his need for Will had once again transcended his need for dignity. Hannibal's hands flew to clutch at Will's hips, nails scraping skin as desperate fingers dug into tender flesh.
"Will, please. I need you." His voice choked out gravelly, though not entirely from the pressure on his windpipe. Hannibal's face was twisted and flushed with desperation.
Satisfied with the mess he was making of the man, Will leaned forward even more, grip tightening on Hannibal's pulse, and caught his parted lips in a kiss. He wanted to taste whatever sound came from him when he finally moved.
Will rolled his hips forward and ground down against the pressure of Hannibal's cock inside of him. He swallowed Hannibal's anguished cry of pleasure readily, and it tasted like power. His own cries were close to follow as he began to ride languidly, angling each thrust just so to make him see stars.
Will straightened up and rocked faster, thighs starting to burn from exertion. Listening to the strangled pants and moans coming from Hannibal as he continued to move lit even more the flame of want within him. He had hoped that having Hannibal would soothe the ache of longing within him, but it had only made it sharper—made him more hungry. What right did Hannibal have to weave himself into the fiber of Will's being, so intricately that to attempt to remove him would prove disaster? More importantly, why was Will so compelled to do the same to him? The ‘why’ didn't matter at that moment. All that mattered was that he was finally here, whole, accepted, wanted, craved, and that Hannibal was praying his name.
Will's nerves were humming with each thrust, and the subtle friction of his cock grinding against Hannibal's abdomen was building to a crescendo within him, and he needed more.
"God, Hannibal," he moaned.
Will leaned forward again, both hands on Hannibal’s throat, something the man was clearly enjoying since his pained smile was growing wider with each squeeze to his pulse. Will’s leaking cock was now trapped and sliding between their sweat-slick stomachs, and he couldn’t last much longer. His rolling hips stuttered, and Hannibal moved a hand to the back of his neck, pulling his face close.
“Come for me, Will,” a strangled plea whispered warm breath on Will’s face.
And so he did. His hands still gripping Hannibal’s throat, he threw his head back, and with a raw, growling scream, searing celestial-white light burning through each neuron of his still-healing brain, he let loose and finally surrendered everything to the monster beneath him.
Hannibal may have been the Devil, but he made Will see God.
Will kept riding through his contracting orgasm, and Hannibal whimpered, “Will, I—close—”
Will was reeling still, but he needed to watch Hannibal come completely undone, so he leaned forward once more and caressed the side of Hannibal's face as he continued to move.
"Open your eyes, I want to see you." It was a gentle command, but forceful nonetheless.
Hannibal's eyes flew open and met Will's. When Hannibal came, his cries passed through gritted teeth, deep breaths sucked in and pushed out with a hiss. The sparking amber irises were alight with thin flecks of crimson, his pupils deep and wide, filled with tortured mental anguish and carnal opiate pleasure. Bruises bloomed into Will's hips at the grip of each of Hannibal's vice-like fingers, and Will felt filled with warmth, both physically and emotionally.
He pressed himself close, not bothering to move off of Hannibal, and nuzzled his face into the crook of Hannibal's neck, feeling a racing heartbeat thrum against his lips and the rise and fall of steadying breaths against his smeared chest. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his back and they stayed like that, still coupled, embracing each other until they were both thoroughly convinced that this was indeed reality, and not a dream.
Will eventually rolled off to the side, laying on his back with his sweat-drenched curls resting on a plush pillow, his brow unfurrowed and face genuinely peaceful for the first time in a long time. Hannibal turned to get off the bed, and Will caught a wrist before the man got out of reach.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m just getting something to clean us. I’ll be right back.”
He let Hannibal go, and, as promised, the man returned with a damp cloth a moment later. Hannibal cleaned himself and then Will, and crawled back into the bed, laid on his back, and pulled the lush blankets over them both.
Will turned to face him and reached his hand out to trace over a sharp cheekbone, pleasure-drunk eyes staring into Hannibal’s. It was bliss.
"So did you really come all this way just to provide me an alibi, or was seduction your primary concern?"
Will chuckled and scooted closer, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around the man’s waist. “It was a possibility I had considered. You aren’t the only person capable of affecting a situation to turn out in your favor.”
“I have always found it folly to underestimate you, Will.”
“Good.” Will’s smug smile quickly turned into a stretching yawn.
“Get some rest.”
“Stay here?” His eyes drifted closed on their own accord.
“Where else would I go?” Hannibal pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
For the first time in forever, Will wasn’t worried about nightmares as he fell asleep.