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Hannibal sat in the shadows of Will’s kitchen, savouring the subtle sweetness of whiskey on the back of his tongue. He’d found the bottle stashed in the back of a cupboard, no doubt being saved for a special occasion.
And what occasion, Hannibal mused, is more special than this?
Hannibal was disappointed to see that Will’s taste in decor hadn’t been influenced by the grandeur of Florence; his house was still furnished with chintzy old chairs and fishing paraphernalia. He turned one of Will’s fishing lures over in his hands, the hook glinting wickedly. He pressed his thumb onto the barb. The blood shone black in the moonlight, small and jewel-like on the pad of his finger. Hannibal pressed his thumb to his lips and glanced out the window. The full moon cast a blue light over the forest, snow blanketing the ground.
Initially he’d gone to Wolf Trap, to the lonely cabin at the foot of the woods. He’d found the house empty, all traces of Will gone. The sight had caused a strange ache in his throat. His hands had itched to break something; he’d settled for a little rabbit who strayed across his path; she’d paled in comparison to how glorious Will would have been. He’d seen her face on a poster on his way out of Virginia. .
It took some time, but eventually he tracked him to rural Washington, hiding in a small cabin at the edge of civilization. As close to Canada he could get without crossing the border. Hannibal took comfort in watching Will through the windows. Sometimes Will would sit on the porch and stare, glass in hand, eyes on the road in the distance. Hannibal liked to think that he was waiting for him.
The crunch of snow under tyres alerted Hannibal to Will’s return. He left his half-empty glass on the table, slipping into the dark corner next to the front door. His skin prickled with anticipation. Tension coiled tight in his stomach. It was time.
The lock clicked and Will stepped inside, his curls slightly damp from the light snowfall. He shucked his coat and threw it to the side where it landed in a heap on the floor. Hannibal tutted silently. Sloppy. Will moved further into the house, his shoulders creeping higher as he sensed the uneasiness in the air. Hannibal licked his lips hungrily. He pulled a thin piano wire from his pocket, his leather gloves rasping quietly against it. Will began to turn, but one step forward was all it took for Hannibal to loop the wire around his neck and pull it taut.
Will gasped in pain, bucking instinctively against the garotte. He grabbed Hannibal’s wrists, pulling against his crushing grip. Hannibal held it just tight enough to draw a few droplets of blood; the smell of rust and salt permeated the air. They crashed against the door, Hannibal keeping tension on the wire as Will struggled.
“Hello, Will,” Hannibal murmured, pressing his lips to Will’s ear, “you thought you could get away from me?”
He kicked out Will’s foot, sending him to his knees with a thud. Will let out a cry, his head jerking back, fingers clawing at the wire on his throat. Hannibal gripped the garotte with one hand, using the other to caress Will’s cheek. Will swallowed hard, hissing in pain as the garotte dug deeper. Hannibal watched his Adam's apple slide under his skin, catching against the wire. He smiled to himself as he heard Will wince; something stirring in his stomach at the sound. Keeping Will on the precipice, the wire slicing easily through his delicate skin, his breaths short and sharp… It was invigorating.
“Why?”
Hannibal frowned, “don’t play coy, Will. You know why.” He gave the garotte a sharp tug, “put your hands behind your back.”
“Wh-”
Hannibal tightened the wire ever so slightly, “behind your back, Will.”
He reluctantly complied and Hannibal placed a pair of handcuffs in his hand, “put these on.” Will hesitated for a moment, shoulders tensed. Hannibal leaned forward, murmuring into his ear, “is this truly how you want to die, Will?”
Will glared at him out of the corner of his eye, “why don’t you just do it?”
“I told you to do it.” Hannibal traced the shape of Will’s jaw, his gloves smearing blood across his face, “I want you to submit to me.”
Will let out an angry grunt, but obediently fastened the handcuffs around his bony wrists. Hannibal watched the manoeuvre closely, only satisfied once the cuffs were locked tight. He let the garotte fall lax, placing it on the small table behind him. Will buckled over coughing and choking, sucking in gasping breaths. Hannibal hauled him upright and dragged him over to the couch and all but threw him onto it. Will collapsed into a heaving mess. He groaned, collapsing onto his side. Hannibal pulled off his gloves with a flourish, laying them neatly on top of his folded blazer; he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and turned back to Will. He was slumped over, breathing heavily.
“There’s no need to be dramatic,” Hannibal chided, grabbing a fistful of Will’s hair and pulling his head back. The pale skin of his neck was marred with blood, trickling down and soaking into his shirt. Hannibal leaned forwards and traced his tongue along the hollow of Will’s throat.
Will flinched away, hissing in pain. He glared at Hannibal, teeth gritted, “fuck you.” He threw himself forward, headbutting Hannibal squarely in the nose. Hannibal stumbled back with a cry, clutching his bloodied nose. He glanced up to see Will staggering towards the door. Hannibal launched himself over the back of the couch and tackled Will to the ground. They landed heavily, Will grunting with pain as his face hit the floor.
“Don’t try to escape, Will,” he hissed, tucking a tendril of hair behind Will’s ear, “it will only make this harder.”
Will sucked in a sharp breath, “s-stop”. He struggled and Hannibal pushed his head down, pressing his face against the floorboards. “Hannibal. Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Let me go.”
Hannibal rolled Will over, straddling him, “after how much effort I went to to find you?” He slid his finger over Will’s split lip, licking the blood from his finger. “You were smoke in the wind.” Will turned his head away, grimacing; he tried to squirm free, but Hannibal held him tight between his thighs.
“For months I was your shadow. Until tonight.” He grabbed Will’s jaw, turning his head so he could stare deep into Will’s eyes, “I will never let you go again.”
He leaned down, capturing Will’s wounded lips in a kiss. Will tried to jerk away but Hannibal had him in a crushing grip. Then, Will’s teeth found purchase in Hannibal’s bottom lip, tearing into his flesh. Hannibal jerked back, slapping Will across the face. Blood bloomed under Will’s skin, the beginning of a bruise spreading along his cheekbone. His pupils were blown wide, blood smeared across his mouth, his teeth red. Heat coiled in Hannibal’s stomach and he rolled his hips, relishing Will’s soft groan. Hannibal touched a hand to his mouth, the mutilated skin sensitive and raw; his fingers came away bloody. The throbbing of his lip made him itch to kiss Will again, to feel the savage anger behind those teeth.
“Will you bite me again?”
Will glared up at him, tongue darting out to lick the blood on his lips, “yes.”
Hannibal smirked, “I see.”
He rolled his hips once more, feeling Will harden beneath him. It sent a thrill up his spine and he moved his hands down to Will’s chest, beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. Hannibal devoured the sight of Will’s scarred skin, tracing his fingers over the contours of his collarbones. Bruises had already begun to bloom along the pattern of his ribs, a lattice of purple, blue, and black. Will yelped as Hannibal pressed the tender skin, his brows pulling together. Hannibal’s hands travelled lower, ghosting over the scar on Will’s belly.
“I think of this night often” Hannibal mused, running his fingers along the silvery skin, “it was beautiful. Seeing you so vulnerable. Bare.”
Will tried to jerk away, grunting in frustration, “I should have killed you.”
Hannibal smirked, “is that truly what you regret?” He pressed his palm against Will’s groin, making him whine, “or do you regret not coming with me?”.
“Oh, God.”
Hannibal leaned down, closing a hand around Will’s throat, “God isn’t here, Will.”
Will sucked in a strangled breath, “are you going to… kill me, Hannibal?” He took another short, sharp breath, “is that… what you want?”
“Oh, sweet Will,” he squeezed his hand around Will, “I want to destroy you.” He began to rock his hips back and forth, keeping a hand clasped around Will’s throat, bringing his other hand up to Will’s jaw. Will choked out a whimper, his eyes fluttering closed. Hannibal bit Will’s ear, “I’m going to ruin you.” Will shivered, letting out another groan; a delicious mix of pleasure and pain. “I’m going to defile you,” Hannibal brushed his lips over Will’s cheek, “and you’re going to enjoy it.”
He pressed another kiss to Will’s battered mouth and this time Will’s lips parted beneath his, pliant and wanting. The kiss deepened, Hannibal tracing his tongue over Will’s bottom lip, invading his mouth. Blood coloured his pallette, rust and salt coating his tongue. He began to rutt faster, unable to hold back his own soft moan.
He released Will’s throat, kissing the ruby red line etched into his soft skin. Will took a deep, gasping breath, crying out as Hannibal’s tongue darted across the fine cut. Their rutting grew more hurried, and Will’s back arched, pressing their bodies closer.
“Come undone, Will,” Hannibal bit at the hollow of Will’s jaw, “give yourself to me.” He twisted his fingers into Will’s hair and jerked his head back, licking the fresh blood that beaded on Will’s neck. Hunger curled in his stomach, the thought of sinking his teeth into Will’s soft flesh almost sending him over the edge. He traced his tongue along the taut tendon of Will’s throat. The stubble on Will’s chin prickled his lips as he moved back towards Will’s mouth. They kissed deeply, aggressively.
“H-Hannibal…”
Will’s hips bucked and Hannibal grunted, feeling his resolve begin to slip.
Not yet…
He straightened up, immediately missing the feel of Will’s heat. Will looked up at him through his lashes, swollen lips parted. Hannibal gazed down at his conquest, splayed out beneath him, back arched over his cuffed hands. Will’s cheeks were flushed, his hair a wild mess of dark tendrils. He was like a botticelli angel, painted just for Hannibal.
He stood and pulled Will to his feet in one fluid motion. Will stumbled, colliding with Hannibal’s chest. Will looked up and Hannibal felt his chest tighten at the delicious mix of anger and lust in his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to Will’s lips, enjoying the soft sound of surprise it elicited from him. Hannibal crowded Will, pinning him between the wall and his body. He was unable to resist the urge to roll his hips, shivering with pleasure when Will gasped against his mouth. They moved together, bodies moulded to each other. Their breath mingled and blood tainted Hannibal’s mouth, his head spinning. He pushed Will back by his shoulders, catching his breath.
“Can I trust you, Will?”
Will hesitated for a moment, “yes.”
Hannibal licked his lips in anticipation, turning Will around so he faced the wall. He fished the key out of his pocket, unlocking the handcuffs. There was a pregnant pause as Hannibal put the cuffs away, tension so thick in the air he could taste it.
And then Will sprung into action.
Hannibal grunted as Will’s elbow collided with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Will made for the front door but Hannibal managed to sweep his feet out from under him, sending Will to the ground. He recovered quickly, kicking out and catching Hannibal in the knee. Hannibal cried out, pitching sideways, clutching his dislocated knee. He gritted his teeth and jerked his leg, the knee sliding back into place with a sickening pop . There was a crash as Will pulled himself up with the end table, knocking a lamp to the ground, the ceramic base shattering. Hannibal grappled Will and wrapped an arm around his throat. Will choked, struggling to find his footing. Suddenly Hannibal felt a sharp pain in his side. He dropped Will and gripped his torso, blood seeping through his shirt. Will scrambled to his feet, a long shard of bloodied ceramic in his hand, the edges cutting into his palm.
“Get out, Hannibal,” Will growled through gritted teeth, “I won’t hesitate.”
Hannibal smirked, taking a deliberate step forward. “You keep saying that,” he took another step forward, debros crunching beneath his feet, “but I don’t know if you truly believe it.”
Will’s eyes flashed, “are you willing to stake your life on that?”
“I don’t need to.”
Hannibal pounced, sending them both to the ground in a tangled mess. He hooked his arm around Will’s neck, securing him in a chokehold. Will gasped, grabbing at Hannibal’s forearm. His short fingernails dug into Hannibal’s flesh, leaving gouges in their wake. Hannibal grunted in pain and tightened his grip; the short, sharp breath he received in response thrilled him.
He felt a blinding pain to the side of his head as Will’s fist slammed into his skull. His head swam and his grip loosened, giving Will his chance. Will pinned Hannibal to the floor, his hands closing around his throat. His hands were crushing, bruising. Hannibal struggled for breath, looking up at the angel that was strangling the life out of him. Will was beautiful, his face marred with blood and bruises, blue eyes alight with rapture. And then Will’s lips were on his.
The kiss was violent, Will’s hands not leaving his throat. Hannibal tasted the metallic tang of blood, and he was no longer sure if it was his or Will’s.
“Is this how you imagined it?” Hannibal choked, “is this your design?”
Will bit Hannibal’s lip sharply, “you can’t help yourself, can you?” Will tightened his grip, pressing his thumb into the hollow under Hannibal’s jaw, “even when I win you can’t help but gloat.”
Hannibal gave him a smug smirk. That earned him another bite, hard enough to draw more blood. Will’s tongue lapped up the blood before invading Hannibal’s mouth, violent and frenzied. Hannibal imagined what they looked like from an outsider’s perspective: a feral mass of gore and lust, feverishly grasping at each other, fighting for control as they both spiralled into savagery.
Will suddenly pulled Hannibal up, only breaking their kiss to get to his feet. Then he was on Hannibal again, hard and heated. Will then shoved him hard into the bedroom. Hannibal stumbled back,the floor disappearing from beneath his feet as Will pushed him onto the bed. Will stood over him, eyes sharp and predatory. Hannibal committed the image to memory so he could draw it later. He hoped he could capture the grotesque beauty of Will’s face, of his self-satisfied smirk. Seeing Will finally shed the skin of the Lamb was glorious; how blessed Hannibal was that he was the one to flay him.
Will walked over to his bedside table, opening the top draw. Hannibal tensed as Will pulled out a small hunting knife. He slid the knife down Hannibal’s chest, hooking the tip of the blade under the top button of his shirt. Will cut through the thread with a small snap .
Hannibal frowned, “this is an expen-”
Will pressed the point of his knife into the soft skin under Hannibal’s jaw. Hannibal’s breath caught, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
“Shut up, Hannibal.”
Will made quick work of the rest of the buttons, stabbing the knife into the wooden headboard when he was done. Hannibal could feel the power behind the thrust, a knot forming in his throat. Will tore open the ruined shirt, and Hannibal basked in the rasp of calloused hands on his skin. The touch was rough and greedy, fingers pressing against his tender, bruised skin. He sighed, looking up at his conqueror. Will’s expression was feral, his eyes wild; Hannibal couldn’t help himself, “you’re beautiful.”
Will scowled, setting himself onto Hannibal’s chest. He unbuttoned his pants and shoved himself deep into Hannibal’s mouth, “I said shut up .”
Hannibal choked against the sudden intrusion, a thrill rolling from his lips down to his groin. He looked up at Will through his eyelashes. Will met his eyes with a smirk, the bed creaking as he rolled his hips. He filled Hannibal’s mouth and he welcomed it all. For how long had he dreamed of consuming Will? Of feeling his silky flesh pass his lips? Hannibal groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He reached up, hands skimming the tops of Will’s thighs.
Will tsked.
In one quick motion he had Hannibal’s arms pinned to the mattress, trapped under his knees. Hannibal struggled against the hold but Will had him tight. He gagged as Will shoved himself deeper, pulling back before thrusting violently, making Hannibal choke. The feeling of Will forcing him down was intoxicating; all control taken from him, the aggression making him ache. Will moaned as Hannibal tightened his lips around him, swearing under his breath. He strained against Will’s grip just to feel him shove him back into the mattress. Suddenly Hannibal felt pressure on his crotch. Will squeezed his hand, palming Hannibal through his pants. A surge of pleasure rolled through him, making his head spin. He pressed himself harder against Will’s hand. He took Will further down his throat, his eyes watering.
“Jesus, Hannibal,” Will sighed, “you’d think you’d done this before.”
They thrusted against each other in unison, their moans intermingling. The only sound other than them was the pelting of snow against the window. It cast shadows across Will’s face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. He looked like a ghost; Hannibal was taken by the beauty of the man above him, his skin washed white by the blue moonlight. How desperate he was to reach up and take Will’s face between his hands. Itched to wrap his fingers around that delicate throat, to make Will beg for release.
Will picked up pace, his eyes sliding closed. Hannibal instinctively jerked back against the onslaught, gasping for air. His reprieve was short-lived, however, as Will tangled his fingers in Hannibal’s hair. He gripped the bedhead with his other hand, using the leverage to keep Hannibal trapped. Will thrusted harder, his movements growing more erratic. Hannibal’s lungs screamed for air but all his body wanted was the beautiful creature that was ravaging him.
Will’s legs trembled and he slumped forward, resting his head against his forearm, his eyes squeezed shut. With a final, stuttering thrust he came undone. Hannibal drank him greedily. For so long he had longed to taste Will; he wouldn’t waste a single drop. Will shuddered in pleasure, sitting back with a sigh. He reached down and stroked stray hair from Hannibal’s face. Hannibal leaned into the touch, looking up at Will through his eyelashes; he was truly a sight to behold. After a moment Will sat back, freeing Hannibal’s arms and mouth. Hannibal dabbed at his sore lips. They were tender and bruised. The sting was delicious.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Will, taking him in. Blood was smeared across his face and chest, both dried and fresh. Finger-shaped shadows criss-crossed his throat, matching the dark rings around his wrists. His blue eyes were hooded and glassy, bright against the flush of his cheeks. Hannibal needed more .
“Get on your back.”
Will raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know if you’re in a position to be making demands, Hannibal.”
Hannibal scowled. He lurched up, unseating Will and sending him tumbling. Will grunted in surprise and tried to sit up, but Hannibal was faster; he straddled Will’s chest, pinning him to the bed.
“Stay down,” Hannibal ordered, wrapping his hand around Will’s throat, “you’ve had your fun.” Will strained against Hannibal’s hold, so he tightened his grip in turn, “so defiant.” He moved his thumb to the underside of Will’s jaw, pressing directly onto his windpipe. Will gasped, continuing to squirm and struggle. Hannibal tutted. Disobedient . He added his other hand, crushing Will’s delicate bird-like throat. “You’re mine, Will …” he leaned down, biting Will’s ear, “and I plan to defile you.”
Will sucked in a weak breath, his eyes beginning to water. Hannibal could feel the heat building between them, dangerously close to bursting aflame. Ready for that fatal spark. He lowered his head, pressing his lips to the corner of Will’s bloodied mouth. Will closed his eyes, his hips arching up in response. Hannibal grinned.
“Will you obey?”
“For now.”
Hannibal yanked the knife from the headboard, savouring the way Will flinched away. He pressed the tip of the blade to Will’s chin, “Stay still.” He moved down the bed so that he was perched over Will’s legs. Will shivered as Hannibal hooked the knife under his belt, cutting smoothly through the leather.
“Take them off.”
Will obeyed, kicking his pants off. Hannibal grabbed the pants and threw them to the floor, situating himself between Will’s bare legs. There was power in being clothed whilst Will lay bare before him. Well, almost. He cut through his underwear, drinking in the uninterrupted planes of his body. He trailed the knife over Will’s belly, the blade rasping over his skin.
“Do you trust me, Will?”
Will’s eyes widened. He held Hannibal’s gaze for a moment before answering, “no.”
Hannibal considered that briefly, “good.” He repositioned the knife over Will’s chest and pressed the blade down, making a shallow cut in his skin. Will gasped and arched his back. His hands fluttered towards the knife but he made no attempt to push away. Instead he grabbed Hannibal’s hips, pulling him closer. Blood beaded up along the cut, glittering like jewels under the low light. Hannibal dipped his head and lapped the blood with his tongue. Will shuddered, his eyes rolling back.
“You’re a pretty victim, Will,” Hannibal murmured, delicately dragging the knife over the ridges of Will’s hips, “I want to open you up.”
There was a flash of fear in Will’s eyes and Hannibal drank it up. He made another shallow cut under Will’s rib cage, tracing the shape of an old scar. Hannibal watched blood dribble from his work, staining the mattress. Will followed his gaze.
“You enjoy ruining my mattress?”
Hannibal pressed the tip of the knife into the hollow of Will’s throat, “would you prefer I ruin you?”
Will’s lips parted, and Hannibal felt something harden beneath him. He licked the blade of the knife before stabbing it into the headboard. Will flinched.
“Scared little rabbit,” Hannibal murmured as he undid his belt and exposed himself, hitching Will’s legs over his hips. Sweat and blood mingled, and Will’s skin tingled everywhere that Hannibal’s fingers touched. Will reached up, cradling Hannibal’s face.
“Please.”
Hannibal thrust forward, Will’s body offering little resistance against the invasion. Will cried out, his legs wrapping around Hannibal’s torso. He twisted his fingers tight in Hannibal’s hair and pulled their faces together.
Will kissed Hannibal violently, their bodies entangled in a feral embrace. They rutted against each other and Hannibal had to force himself to slow lest he unravel too soon. He pressed himself against Will, burying himself in as deep as he could go.
Will mewled, his length trapped between their bellies. He arched his back in pleasure, his nails digging into the flesh of Hannibal’s shoulders. Their sex was savage, and they touched each other with bruising passion. Hannibal had visited this moment a thousand times in his mind palace and yet his imagination had never come close to reality.
Will suddenly pulled himself onto Hannibal’s lap, parting for just a moment. He impaled himself on Hannibal, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Hannibal’s eyes widened and he slowed. Tension had coiled so tightly in his stomach that he feared that he was ruined.
“Don’t stop,” Will whispered, his arms tightening around Hannibal’s shoulders, “please.”
Hannibal wrapped Will in a secure embrace, sustaining a long slow rhythm. Warmth radiated from between them and Hannibal ached for more; he hooked his finger under Will’s chin and tilted his face up. Their eyes met briefly before Hannibal captured Will’s lips in a soft kiss. Will deepened the kiss with a groan, tightening his arms around Hannibal.
Their breaths mingled and Hannibal felt high. He’d ached for this connection for so long. Sought it in so many… had even thought he’d found it once. But this was it.
“Hannibal,” Will gasped, “I love you.”
Fire ripped through every inch of Hannibal’s body, leaving behind nothing in its wake but sheer reverence for the beautiful man in his arms. He pressed his face against Will’s chest and inhaled, soaking in Will’s heady scent. They moved as one. Breathed as one. He bit into the soft flesh of Will’s chest, the salty taste of blood and sweat making his mouth water. His tongue traced a path over Will’s collarbone and up his throat, and when Will whimpered in his ear he knew he was finished.
Hannibal gripped Will in a crushing embrace, rolling so he was pinned beneath him. He buried his face into Will’s hair and let instinct completely take over, allowing the beast to finish his conquest. He fucked Will into the mattress, his movements erratic and violent until he finally came undone.
His every cell was exalted and he could feel God in the room then. Could feel His gaze as they bathed in the afterglow of carnal sin.
Will turned his face, pressing their lips together. Without breaking the kiss, Hannibal shifted his weight off Will, laying beside him. They parted, their eyes meeting in the dim light.
“I love you too, Will.”
Hannibal wrapped Will in his arms, holding him close to his chest. Will squirmed closer, throwing an arm over Hannibal’s stomach and tucking his face into Hannibal’s shoulder. Their breaths slowed and their skin cooled. The heat that had clung to them settled to a soft warmth, strongest where their bodies curved against each other.
“God truly is cruel.”
“What?” Will already sounded groggy, sleep threatening to pull him under.
Hannibal smiled to himself, sure that Will wouldn’t hear, “isn’t it cruel that we should find each other? That I should have this moment?” He brushed a stray lock of hair behind Will’s ear, the man’s face already slack with sleep, “what was it that Freddie called us? Murder husbands?”
He laughed softly, “truly a divine comedy.”
Will buried his face deeper into Hannibal’s shoulder, “shut up, Hannibal.”
Hannibal smirked, turning his eyes to the window. The snow had calmed to a flurry and the full moon hung high in the sky. That night, they were the only people in the world.
Hannibal buttoned up his coat, tucking his scarf into the collar. He smoothed his still-damp hair; he shouldn’t have dared to hope that Will owned a hair-dryer. The sun would soon be rising and Hannibal planned to be well hidden before its light reached the house.
He cast a glance back at Will’s sleeping form. His dark hair spilled over the pillow, his limbs splayed at odd angles. Hannibal drew closer, trailing his fingers up Will’s bare arm, goosebumps raising at his touch. Will’s face and body were painted with bruises and cuts, and Hannibal ached to leave him. To not kiss those bruises until they slowly faded away.
He placed a note on the bedside table and turned, forcing himself to leave. As he sat in his car, blasting the heater to chase away the winter chill, he watched the bedroom window. Hannibal hoped that Will would wake up and run to the window, chase him down before he could leave, but the curtains were still.
“I’ll be back, Will” Hannibal murmured, echoing the note he’d left, “soon.”