Chapter Text
Sophia
“Will,” Hannibal calls him softly. Will makes a sound, but doesn’t look up from his newspaper. “There is something I have to ask you. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” Will answers, suddenly curious. It was not habitual for Hannibal to talk like that. “What is going on?”
“I was wondering if it would be okay to have someone for dinner,” Hannibal starts and has to suppress a smile when he sees Will’s expression. “Not the way you are probably thinking, though.”
“What is this even supposed to mean?” Will grumbles, eyebrows up. “Enlighten me.”
“There is this woman - her name is Sophia. I met her a few weeks ago…”
Will swallows hard. “Wait. Where?”
“There is a small, but charming confectionery a few blocks away from here, as you know,” Hannibal says, still soft and calm. He opens the fridge and selects a few ingredients. “Sophia usually goes there in the afternoon and, after meeting me there three or four times, she told me I should invite her over. To have dinner, of course.”
“And what have you said?” Will asks, feeling a little nauseated.
“I said I live with my best friend,” Hannibal smiles gently, looking completely unaffected by his own words. Will doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast, but he tries his best not to look so nervous. “Who is not very fond of sudden social interactions.”
“She must think I am a great person,” Will coos and Hannibal bites back a compliment. He shouldn’t. He can’t. “But it is okay, I mean… Are you sure it is safe? What if she knows who you are and is about to call the cops?"
“I do not believe this is the case, Will,” Hannibal says, slowly opening a bottle of red wine. Will knows it is barely five o’clock, but he doesn’t say anything. “Will you drink with me?”
“Why not?” He shrugs. Wine was not really his thing, but who cares? His body felt like it needed some good amount of alcohol - and soon. “This… Sophia knows you live with me, then. This is… okay, I suppose. I don’t know if I am being too conspiratorial here - do you think she knows anything about us?”
“I have not asked her about this particular theme, as you can imagine, since it would be very dangerous,” Hannibal hands Will a glass of wine before grabbing his own. They have a toast and soon Hannibal is sipping, looking truly pleased. Will feels a strange weight on his belly to see the other appearing so satisfied with himself. Even more than he usually appeared, anyway. “I do not believe she is the kind of person who takes her time reading about murders and serial killers, though. She is forty-five and a very classy woman - this is a good sign, I presume.”
“Okay,” Will shrugs, taking a sip of his wine as well. He makes a face, disapproving the taste, but keeps on drinking. “What do you expect me to say, then? It looks like you already know what you want to do.”
“I am asking for your permission to bring someone to our house,” Hannibal says, cautious. Will’s body is abnormally hot. “Tomorrow night. Of course you are invited to have dinner and drink with us, I just want to make sure it will not disturb you. It is a known fact that you are not a fan of strangers and we have never brought someone to this house, so I feel I must have your permission to do such a thing. Will you be comfortable with this?”
“Sure, Hannibal,” Will smiles at him, raising his glass in false approval. He is not sure why knowing Hannibal is bringing someone over is so deeply irritating, but he refuses to give it a second thought. In order to shut his mind off, he drinks more and more.
- x -
“Good evening,” Sophia smiles when Hannibal opens the door. He looks just as handsome and classy as he looked in their previous meetings, so she raises an eyebrow and lets out a discrete sound of approval. “Always a gentleman, Draco, aren’t you?”
“Only when I am trying to impress,” Hannibal answers and slowly bends to kiss her cheek. “Please, come in. Can I have your coat?”
“Oh, sure,” she almost closes her eyes when his hands, long and manly, touch her shoulders. He can smell her arousal, but being a patient man was part of his essence. “What is this smell, dear? It is just amazing.”
“This, my darling, is our dinner,” Hannibal says, hanging her coat on the wall. “Mikael helped me choose tonight’s menu. I hope his tastes suit yours.”
“I am pretty sure I will be satisfied, Draco, thank you,” she answers with a hint of flirtation in her voice and Hannibal can’t help but offer her a smirk. It has been so much time since the last time he felt desired - his ego, always so hungry for praise and devotion, had missed being so caressed. “I believe Mikael is okay with me being here, then? I don’t wish to be a problem for you, of course.”
“He is more than okay with it,” Hannibal says. “Shall we go to the dining room?”
When they arrive, Will is there. He and Sophia share a long look - beautiful woman, he thinks. I can’t blame him at all - I’d probably do the same.
“Hello,” she says and he knows she is nervous. He thinks, for a moment, she might have recognized him from a newspaper or magazine. He waits. “Mikael, right? My name is Sophia. I am pleased to meet you. Thank you for letting Draco invite me over.”
“Hello,” he answers, observing her reactions. When her shoulders relax, he knows that she doesn’t know. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Sophia, but I am very… sorry to say I will not be able to have dinner with you tonight. My girlfriend called me and asked me to see her. I know it is very, ahn, rude, but I think it must be something very important.”
He doesn’t miss the way Hannibal frowns. He doesn’t miss the way Sophia’s eyes shine. He knows he will be the third part of something that doesn’t need third parts - and he knows, more than anything, he doesn’t want to see them flirting.
“Are you sure?” Hannibal asks when he comes closer and kisses Sophia on the cheek, murmuring fake apologies. “You have talked to her earlier, haven’t you? Wasn’t she okay?”
“Yes, she was,” Will answers, begging with his eyes for Hannibal to just shut the fuck up. “This is precisely why I believe she must be needing me for something. But don’t worry, Draco, I will be here as soon as I can. Have fun, you two.”
He is not sure why, but he kisses Hannibal's cheek. The latter doesn’t appear to be surprised, but Will knows him way too well. Too much, maybe, he thinks before leaving them behind.
- x -
It is almost two in the morning when Will comes back. He opens the door silently, hoping to God he will not find Hannibal and Sophia on their couch. He sees nothing.
“Are you awake, Draco?” He asks, but no answers comes from the first floor. He closes the door behind himself and sees Sophia’s coat still on the wall. He swallows hard, knowing where they probably are. “Are you here?”
He checks the living room. He checks the dining room. Every plate is clear, every glass is washed. The whole house smells like incense and candles and Will feels like he is about to vomit. In order to kill the terrible taste that now invades his mouth, Will opens the fridge and grabs himself a can of beer.
He is taking a sip when a moan cuts the air.
He freezes in his place, eyes wide. He doesn’t dare moving for a while, waiting for another sound to be heard. When nothing comes, he drinks more.
They are fucking upstairs. They are fucking in Hannibal’s blood red sheets, enjoying the night that is coming through Hannibal’s window, sharing an intimate moment after many glasses of wine and a delicious dinner that used to be Will’s privilege. He shouldn’t be thinking that, but he is. He shouldn’t be thinking that, but that man who is fucking an irritatingly beautiful woman upstairs used to be so enamoured of him he would never, ever try to have sex with anyone else.
Something has changed.
Before he notices, he is opening another can. He takes another sip, mortified by his own thoughts, and decides to head to his own bedroom. He goes upstairs as fast as he can and locks himself into his room, eyes wide and mouth half open. He shouldn’t be thinking all the things he is thinking, but he is.
He sits down and closes his eyes. There is a moment of awkward silence, but the unmistakable sound of skin against skin fills the air soon. Will swallows hard and concentrates on the music their bodies are making together in the next room. So close to him, yet so far - he never felt so distant from Hannibal before. Not even when he was caged. Not even when he went to another country with Bedelia and disappeared. Never.
The cadence of his breath takes him somewhere prettier.
Hannibal’s fingers are pure art. They are not made for mundane things - no, not those fingers. They look incapable of doing anything that is not pretty, erotic or deeply emotional; it’s like they are made for poetry and hours and hours of lazy strokes and beautiful piano songs. Will knows better than that, of course, but there is something about those hands that has always made his knees weak.
Hannibal knows it. Hannibal always knew it. This is the reason he has been touching Will with his fingertips every now and then since the first time they have put their eyes on each other. This is the reason why his hands, so full of blood, always look so desperate to feel Will’s broken, scarred skin.
Will wishes Hannibal would play him like a piano. He doesn’t know why; he just know he wants it. He opens his eyes and stares at the wall. Wet sounds come from the other room and Will’s throat is dry.
He can smell Sophia’s arousal. He can smell and taste everything - it is like he can feel the way Hannibal’s body react when he enters her. How much pleasure he is feeling, how tight she is, how hot is her touch. He knows it all. It is intoxicating, desperate, disgusting and delicious at the same time and he is not sure he was supposed to feel this much.
Hannibal’s fingers enter her softly, caressing her insides, making her even more wet. He bites her neck with his pointed teeth and marks the creamy skin, then he moves to kiss and lick her round breasts. He is not a selfish lover, no. He is one of the best lovers she has ever had. It is like he knows exactly where and how to touch her - it is like he has been starving for a long time and has finally found something good enough to eat.
He curves his fingers; she moans so loud he chuckles and asks her to be quiet. Will is probably downstairs. Will should not be obliged to listen to their fucking - no, not Will, who always look so superior and so full of himself and who masturbates in his bedroom every night, pretending he doesn’t know Hannibal can listen and smell his release. Pretending he doesn’t know Hannibal aches for him and catches fire with the need to lay him down onto his bed and have a feast.
Will is an idiot. Will is a fucking idiot. He makes a displeased sound and gets under the covers of his bed, trying to ignore the way Hannibal’s moves appear to have become faster and stronger. He is pounding into her, he can hear it - he can hear her voice, low and respectful, but obviously aroused. He is silent, though. He is not asking her to moan. He is not asking her to shout his name. He is not asking her to shut up either.
Will never took him for a quiet lover. Again, he doesn’t know why he had thought so many fucking times before about how Hannibal was in bed - bullshit. He knows. He really, really knows. This is why this whole situation feels even more ridiculous than it is, he thinks.
Was it really so much to offer Hannibal his body? He had already given him his soul, his reputation, his life. He knows the man had never asked him to do such a thing, even though he has tried, more than once, to initiate something - it was always sweet, soft and cautious. He was always testing the waters with Will, but of course, of course he would grow tired of it. Hannibal was a very sexual creature - Will knew about all his previous affairs because the good doctor had told him about them himself. He enjoyed men and women, he enjoyed testing people’s limits, he enjoyed hours and hours of good, dirty sex. God, why Will knew that much about Hannibal’s sexual behaviour?
Because he had asked. Many, many times, he had asked. He had seen the way Hannibal’s pupils would get dark every time he started to talk about it and had told him to go on. He had played with his libido and made him anxious and never, ever had the consideration to get on his knees and offer him some relief.
Will shouldn’t be thinking this, but he is. And as he hears a single masculine moan coming from the next room, he knows exactly why he is thinking that much.