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Hannibal tests the strength of the straitjacket the minute they finish locking him up inside the van. He shifts in the uncomfortable seat as he does it, to hide the movement, but there’s little to no give to the restraints. He knows that Will is somewhere near, he can hear the awful new cologne he wears, but he hasn’t seen him. He tries not to think about the child and the woman, but the thought swirls around in his mind. There are two guards sitting in front of him, talking to each other, bored, as if Hannibal wasn’t there.
Will doesn't even talk when he walks in, but he doesn’t need to. He commands attention instantly, the guards go quiet immediately and scoot over to give him space. Will sits down in front of Hannibal and having him this close again is a gift the older man won’t take for granted after all this time.
He looks intently at Will, but the man doesn’t look back at him, at least not at his eyes. The wire cage has small sized holes and a glass plane reinforcement, but as he looks at the scar Will sports (almost proud) on his temple he wishes for a second that Will could touch him, even if through the cage, even without holding him, just a touch.
The door of the van is closed from the outside and the sound seems to make Will shift, bringing him back from wherever his head has led him to. He’s sitting straight now, shoulders back, neck visible and distracting. Hannibal swallows, eyes roaming the expanse of free skin until they reach Will’s eyes.
His boy is looking right back at him.
The van starts and the guards slump against their seats. Hannibal doesn't spare them a glance, not when Will is looking at him like this. Is that hunger in his eyes? Is it lust for blood? For meat? Oh Will, what can we do about that? He is glad the muzzle around his face shields the other man from seeing the smirk that has taken over his face.
The bumps on the road can’t distract them. They are slightly swaying with the movement, both staring at each other’s eyes like it’s the last time with the soft hum of the motor marking the time. A dance of its own, something the guards next to them will never know or understand.
What breaks the moment is unexpected to Hannibal. He sees Will grip the edge of his seat, hold his position soft enough to sway but strong enough to stay. Outside there’s a siren and before Hannibal can react, he hears the shot that kills the driver and feels as the van loses control. Will is right in front of him in seconds, watching as Hannibal hits the back of his head, not able to hold on without his hands.
He hears a small chuckle as it all goes to black.
—
When he comes to, he is out of the cage, still in the straitjacket. He is sitting on the floor, propped up against the outside of the cage. Hannibal looks around, the guards are gone, but the unmistakable smell of blood makes his mouth water. There’s some blood splattered on the walls of the van, but not likely the driver’s. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Will, just outside the doors, holding the lifeless body of one of the guards, tucking it away from the view of the highway, besides the vehicle.
As if he can feel Hannibal’s eyes, he turns around and smirks.
“I think the dragon was trying to do you a favor.” Will grumbles.
He wipes the dust off his pants and walks back into the van. It bounces with his weight and Hannibal looks up to him. Will walks up to him, relaxed, confident, every bit of the sass he had when he asked him to join this ‘destined for failure’ plan, please? Hannibal shudders at the memory and strains against the straitjacket, trying to move to stand. The inequity of the circumstances eats at him in the back of his mind, Will's had too much power over him these last few years, the inconvenience of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
“Tssk.”
Hannibal hates how the sound makes him stop moving, like he is just another one of the dogs in Will’s pack.
“That’s right.” He says, a whisper as he kneels in front of Hannibal.
“Instead," Will continues, "he might have given me a gift.” His eyes darken.
Hannibal can smell his arousal in the soft breeze, he takes a deep breath and swallows, tries to keep it in him. Will's right hand slithers onto his hair, grasping the strands, pushing his head back and exposing what little of his neck is available.
"You look so pretty like this, all tied up." Will leans into Hannibal's neck, speaks gently by his ear. "When there's nothing you can do about it…" Hannibal holds still, tries to control the urges that want to make him lean into the touch. "Shame that's not a gag, you would look even better with one."
He feels how Will takes a deep inhale, taking in his scent. "A gift indeed, all wrapped up for me."
For a second Hannibal thinks Will might kiss his neck, but a sharp pull forces him to stand up with Will. He debates for a moment if he should fight back, try to get out of the straitjacket more effectively, but he can't move. He is pinned under Will's sight, trapped like a bug under a magnifying glass.
"Stay still, just like that." Will's hands cup his face, turn his head side to side, check his eyes, the side of his head. When he is satisfied, lowers his hands to Hannibal's waist, and he makes him turn to face the wall. "So good for me." He can feel the whisper in his ear, it travels all the way to his groin.
Will's hands brush through Hannibal's nape. Slowly, it travels down, creating goosebumps under the straitjacket and his jumpsuit. The touch is so soft Hannibal can hardly tell if it's his wishful thinking or actually Will.
He takes a breath. This isn't supposed to happen like this. At some point in the last three years he had convinced himself of it. He knew Will would come back, that their connection would deepen, that this would surely come; but slowly, romantically, after gentle whispered words about missing each other and finding relief in finally knowing each other changed and better for it. What had changed since the last time they had been together for Will to act like this?
“Poor thing, so touch starved.” Will murmurs softly, hands roaming the expanse of Hannibal’s back. He hadn't realized he was leaning into Will. The Doctor bites his tongue to not let anything slip out of his lips. He doesn’t want to break whatever spell holds Will at the moment. He doesn't want the words to have the effect they do on his body, he can feel the flush and heat all over.
“Can’t imagine Alana letting you be alone that much, did you like it when they watched you?” Hannibal can’t help but let out a small whine. “Oh Doll, you are so needy.” The word sends another shiver down Hannibal’s body, directly to his cock. He’s desperately trying to convince himself that Will won't notice. A small shake of the head is all Will needs to know, and he smirks as his hand clutches Hannibal’s hair and turns his still masked face to face him.
“Look at me.” The hand that’s not in his hair is now softly groping him through his prison clothes. “I want to see how much you like this.”
Hannibal tries to pull away, but Will knows he is testing his limits. He wants this too much even if it's not what he imagined, he'll bear it. It seems there’s nothing Will isn't taking from the doctor today; he grips harder, brings him closer, making him arch his back. “I'm in charge right now, baby. The quicker you accept that, the better it’ll be for you.” The words are rough, low, they feel dangerous enough for Hannibal not to test him again, specially combined with the hard squeeze on his cock Will marks his words with.
A small moan slips past and Hannibal blushes instantly at the sound. “That’s it.” Will murmurs before letting the hair go and pushing the older man forward.
He falls forward, with no arms to stop him from hitting his face against the seating bench in front of him. Hannibal braces for impact and holds his breath, but just seconds before the impact, Will catches him by the back of the straitjacket.
He has a moment of relief, even though it doesn’t last long as Will presses the side of his face against the bench anyway, leaving Hannibal with his ass in the air. He is left facing the open doors of the van, highway empty, the bodies of the dead guards right by the doors as if resting.
Will groans, pushing up the bottom of the straitjacket. “That’s it, baby, present for me.” He runs his hands over Hannibal’s backside, only stopping to grip the tight cloth right on top of Hannibal’s ass. He lets go and slaps hard, Hannibal feels it through the jumpsuit, for the first time in his life he feels completely naked while he is fully clothed. The strength of the slap makes him move forward, letting out a small grunt that brings out a chuckle from Will.
Will leans his weight on him and Hannibal can feel his erection straining through the jeans. After quickly reaching into his pocket Will pulls out a pocket knife and plays with the blade, the sound is very familiar to Hannibal's ears.
“You remember this, right?” He asks, his voice dangerous again. Heat coils on Hannibal's lower stomach. “I’m sure the original is somewhere in Italy.”
“Your forgiveness.” Hannibal whispers.
“I think you are finally ready for it.” He sounds earnest.
Fear comes over Hannibal, he struggles against Will’s hands on his waist, but can’t move far enough. The grip is hard enough for him to feel that they'll be bruises come next morning.
“No no, baby, you have to be good for me.” The profiler says with a small smirk that can be heard even if Hannibal can’t see it.
One hand travels up Hannibal’s back, applying soft but unrelenting pressure in between his shoulder blades. The other one slowly draws shapes over the jumpsuit with the knife. It runs along the bottom of his ass, drifting over the thighs.
“Be Still.” He warns in a tone that promises retaliation.
Hannibal’s breath hitches as it crosses over to the front of his legs, swiftly pressing the point over his cloth covered cock. He can’t help that it twitches, the blush goes up to his ears, Will can certainly see it.
“Take it like a good boy, won’t you? For me?” Please?
Will leaves it pressed up against Hannibal for a few seconds, insistent. In the instant he waits for the blade to move, he realizes there's nothing he wouldn't let him have. The older man holds his breath, every muscle in his body taut as to not anger his god.
His knees start to tremble. Hannibal doesn’t know how long he feels it there, cold and pressing, he waits until a hum breaks the silence and with a small push to his back Will returns both hands to the jumpsuit’s back. With steady hands he pushes the cloth slightly away from Hannibal’s body and cuts a narrow stripe down with the sharp knife.
Hannibal takes a small breath in as he feels Will’s hands caress his skin under the cotton boxers he’s had to wear for three years. “Such a proper doll, keeping all of this safe for me.” He hums, enjoying the soft warm skin, groping and holding his waist.
There’s a loud noise Hannibal assumes must be the knife hitting the floor. He manages to get a look as soon as Will kicks it away from them. It falls out of the van, right onto the asphalt.
Will keeps feeling his skin, slowly goes from one side of his ass to the other, until he grabs the underwear to forcefully pull it to the side. The movement creates tight pressure against his cock. It feels so good, it’s so much more than he’s had in a long time, and even if it wasn't, it's Will. The wet patch that has been steadyingly forming on the front of the boxers feels cold and sticky, he can’t help it, he lets out a diminutive moan.
Somewhere behind him Will chuckles. “You love this, baby, I can tell.” Hannibal bites his lips to stiffen the response that begs to come out. There’s something about this Will, so beautifully raw and powerful, that makes him unable to control himself. He feels Will’s fingers investigate the newly exposed skin and tells himself that it’s the cold air that flows into the open van that's making him shiver.
“Have you even touched yourself since I last saw you?” Will slides in between his legs until his hand gets to the front. “Mm I doubt you did, since what, Italy?” He presses against Hannibal and hums.
“See? You’re so wet already, fuck.” Will’s fingers are insistent, roughly working the front of his wet boxers into the slit of his cock. Hannibal whines out loud, it’s too much.
“Wi-Will.”
“Shh… Doll, come on, you know you love this, I can feel it, there’s no need to stop.” Will’s left hand pets his hair as he leans over him and Hannibal gives a shaky nod. “Be sweet for me, baby.” The soft pets turn into a grip on his hair.
The fingers keep going, more and more precum comes out, staining Will's fingers.
Hannibal can feel how cock twitches at the thought that Will will smell of him, even after this is over, his hands marked by him even if no one else can tell.
“You’ll make this so much easier.” Will says as his other hand leaves his grip on Hannibal’s hair and ghosts down until it grabs an ass cheek. The older man gasps as Will exposes his hole.
Wet fingers travel all the way back, leaving a sticky trail on his thighs. There’s a second where nothing happens and Hannibal tries to turn his head to look at the profiler, but suddenly there are fingers teasing at his entrance.
“There we go, let’s get you wet where it matters.” Will hums, admiring the view. His hand goes back and makes quick work of stroking Hannibal’s cock one last time, getting his fingers wet again only to press them against his begging hole, lingering.
Hannibal presses against the fingers. "Easy, princess." The blush returns to Hannibal and Will presses one finger into him. It's not enough, but the strain feels better than he could have expected after so long.
Will works the finger in and out, eyes fixed on Hannibal's, taking in every reaction until he hits the place he is looking for. Hannibal's mouth hangs open, swaying back and forth. Will's finger grazes his prostate and he moans, no qualms about it.
He can barely feel himself relax, when Will slips out his finger, only to push two back in. It's too quickly and yet not quick enough, but the burn ignites the heat inside him. He needs Will in him soon or he might combust.
He suddenly feels empty, clenching around nothing. Will groans at the sight. "You look so good, baby." Hannibal whines again, tries to twist his neck to see Will, anything but the open highway he's forced to look at.
Will spits at Hannibal's hole before shoving back his fingers, three this time. Hannibal moans again, closing his eyes, hair moving with the movement, uncombed, in every direction. The profiler leans over Hannibal again. “Anyone can walk in on us right now, do you think they’re coming for us?” He whispers. “I wonder what they’ll say when they see you being such a good whore for me, how well…” He crooks his fingers on the way out, rubbing against his sweet spot. "you take this, how much you want it."
Hannibal has been reduced to a whimpering mess, soft rhythmic sounds coming out of him in turn with Will's movements.
"You're leaking all over the floor, doll, like a bitch in heat."
Will holds Hannibal down with his left hand. The sound of the belt buckle and the zipper on his pants being opened breaks the silent pants and whines coming out of Hannibal. Clothes rustle, and he can imagine Will’s cock, size, girth, how proud of it he probably is, if he is as wet as he is; he whimpers. Will groans at the reaction.
“You’ve thought about this?” Hannibal can’t nod, he’s desperate for Will to get in him, but the man won’t take his silence for an answer. His cheek is pressed against the bench hard enough to leave a mark.
“Answer me.” Will says gruffly, the hand on his head pushes down harder. Hannibal whines, struggles against Will’s hand.
“With your words, come on, pretty thing. Did you think about having my cock in you these last three years?” Will is now right by his ear, body covering his. Hannibal gets goosebumps all over.
“Y-Yes.” Hannibal moans, almost unintelligible.
Will lets out a groan, he presses his hips into the man’s ass, cock rubbing against his hole. "Bedelia wasn't enough, huh?" His voice drips of jealousy. "All that whoring around, you only needed this." He grips his cock and slaps it against Hannibal's entrance.
Hannibal keens and nods. He feels Will's hot breath against his ear, panting softly. He smells incredible, sweat and arousal, no hint of that stupid cologne.
“You want this, baby?” He asks before biting the earlobe right by his mouth. “Tell me, what do you want me to do to you?”
“Will… please.” Hannibal whines, tries to move to press his ass into the other man.
“No no no.” Will hums as he stands back up. He spits on his hand and grabs hold of his cock. “What do you want?” The sound of him slicking himself up drowns every thought in Hannibal’s head. "Tell me what you need." The press against him is unbearable, he tries to move backwards, to press back, but Will holds him in place.
“P-please, fuck me.”
Will slides in like it’s his home. It’s too much and not enough at once, the pain is welcome, even if Hannibal flags down a little at the intrusion. Finally. He doesn't wait for him to get used to the stretch, doesn't even go all the way in, just starts moving like a piston in and out of him.
Hannibal moans, as loud as he can, as loud as his body needs. Will’s hands on his hips hold tight, enough to bruise, enough for Hannibal to know he’ll look at them and trace them as soon as they bloom.
“You were made for this, Hannibal, fuck.” Will sets up a punishing pace, angling his hips on the way in.
The sound of slick thrusts fills the van. The smell of sex, of both of them combined in this way, is exquisite, more than Hannibal had hoped for. He tries to commit the smell to his memory, just in case, but it's so hard to not get distracted by what Will's talented hips are doing.
"Will…" He moans wantonly, trying to stay present.
Will reaches for Hannibal’s head and grabs the bindings of the muzzle on his nape. He pulls him closer until Hannibal can hear his breathy moans in his ear, back arched as much as he physically can and enough that every push of Will’s cock into him hits directly onto his prostate.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” The words make the doctor sob, the pleasure is overwhelming. “I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner.”
The van sways from side to side with the strength of Will’s movements. Hannibal moves back, meeting every thrust, arching his back as much as he can without being able to use his arms.
“That’s it, baby.” Hannibal moans louder. Will kisses what amount of neck he can get to. “You were made for my cock, doll, fuck, what I’d give to be inside you all day.” Without thinking, Hannibal feels himself nodding. He gets a nip to his jawline for it. "Of course you'd like that, my slut."
The hand that it's not holding onto his mask slithers through the front of his ruined jumpsuit. Will grips his weeping cock and pulls it out of his drenched underwear, thumb pressing on the slit. He spreads the wetness over his stomach. "So wet." Will moans.
His hand travels back down to his balls, rolls them softly before going back to his dick and stroking, this time hard and fast.
"Will… Please."
“I know darling, come for me.”
Hannibal nods furiously, feels the mask dislodge from the force, it hurts against his face. "Please, Will, Please." He moans, high-pitched and needy, as Will strokes him hard and fast to the cadence of his own thrusts.
“That’s it, Hannibal, give it to me.” It takes one more trust before he comes all over the wall of the van. Will groans into his neck and bites hard. "So hot, fuck." Hannibal barely hears his breathy words. He shudders, overstimulated between Will's hand and his cock that's incessantly pounding him.
Will's cum stained hand reaches behind the older man, covering his dick with Hannibal's cum as it comes in and out. He offers the hand to Hannibal and moans when the man sucks at the fingers, blissed out. Will lets go of the muzzle and pushes Hannibal against the wall, just a few centimeters above the cum he plastered on the wall. With his fingers still wet with a mix of saliva and cum, he slowly pushes until his thumb manages to get inside Hannibal along his cock.
"You're so tight." Will's grunts turn into more vocal moans. Hannibal whimpers, everything inside him burns. Slowly, Will's thrusts start becoming erratic, losing pace.
"Doll, where do you want my cum?" Will asks, and Hannibal knows there's nowhere else his seed belongs. "Inside me." He breathes out, overstimulation crawling over his body. "Yeah, baby?" Will huffs into his hair. "Fuck, want me to come in you like the whore you are?"
Will leans against Hannibal's back, keeps whispering in his ear, but Hannibal can't hear him. It's too much, his mind screams at him. Will, Will, Will. The man finally cums and they both stand still, the hot liquid feels heavenly inside him. Will props him up against him, slowly slides out of him with a twin hiss. He leans over Hannibal's neck and slowly licks at the bite he left earlier, at the blood that has crusted over it.
Hannibal holds back the whimper, only because he needs to breathe. He lets himself be manhandled and turns around to face Will. He expects him to still be the confident reassured man that walked into the van hours earlier, but Will's eyes show concern as he looks all over Hannibal's face. He unties the straps of the mask and throws it out of the van. Whatever answers he finds, must reassure him because it's barely a minute before he presses his lips to Hannibal's. Hannibal kisses him back, no hesitation.
"Perhaps we have done this backwards." He murmurs jokingly the moment the kiss breaks.
Will chuckles softly and scratches his head. "We've never done anything the right way around." He looks at Hannibal's eyes again. "They probably realized we got intercepted, we have to leave." Will says as he takes Hannibal out of the straitjacket and ties it around his waist.
"I know a place where we could go." Hannibal smiles softly. "But you'll have to drive."
"Wore you out, huh?" Will beams at him.
"Not yet, but you could try again later." Hannibal says, eyes tired, but full of mirth.
They smile at each other, Will holds his hand and helps him to the nearest police cruiser. He pushes the seat back for him and gets him in before getting into the driver's seat.
"You bet I will." He smirks before driving off.
—