Archive of Our Own ^beta

With all the time they spend drawling metaphors and taking part in long-winded discussions to break down philosophical topics, one would think the two of them would be adept at proper communication, however, Will feels as disconnected to Hannibal as he’s ever been. 

The fall had not been easy, and recovery even less so. 

Those days were filled with persistent pains and dull aches, cold sweats, and shortness of breath. Creaks and groans from their bones, and too many days gone without a decent shower. 

Even then, Will would take another hundred or so of those days than any more time spent festering on the age old question; What are we?  

When they kill their first victim after the Dragon, a dainty man in Argentina that requires no more than a small dagger wielded in Will’s hand and Hannibal’s brute grip which efficiently and ultimately snaps his neck, Will acknowledges they are partners in crime. That is one thing they are, at least. 

For certain. 

Each night when they share dinner and Hannibal sits across from him with a wide, indulgent smile on his face, and Will smiles back because his company is all he could have ever asked for, Will acknowledges they are friends, close friends at that. He is closer than any friend Will has ever had or ever will have. 

Yes, there is definitively friendship. 

One night, a couple years later, when he and Hannibal are sprawled out on reclining chairs in their backyard in France, Hannibal’s fingers brush against Will’s where their hands both dangle off the sides, and he points up to the sky in a broad gesture. 

“The constellation of Perseus and Andromeda.” 

“I don’t recall their story,” Will replies softly. 

Hannibal turns his head to face Will, and there is a look in his eyes that often takes up its occupancy when he’s looking at him. It makes Will feel a certain kind of restlessness he hasn’t been able to pinpoint for nearly a decade now. 

“Persues found a beautiful woman chained to a seaside rock, her assigned purgatory by her parents as punishment for the wrath of the Greek god Poseidon who believed her to be too beautiful. Persues managed to free her,” Hannibal sounds thoughtful as he continues, “And he killed her family and the man she had been betrothed to be with her. Together, they still wander the north celestial pole.” 

Hannibal gazes wistfully up at the sky again and Will hums. 

“Where is it?” 

Hannibal’s pointing hadn’t helped much, and he startles when Hannibal takes his arm gently and lifts up Will’s pointer finger to help him trace the constellation himself. It is in this moment that Will is forced to acknowledge; Hannibal is in love with him. 

That much has been true at the very least since he’d heard Bedelia suggest it. 

It isn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind in the few years they’ve spent together, but Will hasn’t bothered reading deeply into it. Perhaps with the assumption Hannibal would bring it up if he were so inclined, and he hasn’t appeared to be. Even with all the wanton desire Will can sense from him, he hasn’t done more than touch him in gentle, platonic ways, and stare at him with a yearning that is often satiated by one look alone. 

It becomes something Will is helpless to forget as more months pass. They aren’t getting any younger, and Hannibal isn’t communicating anymore than he normally feels inclined to. 

They spend a night on their couch in front of the fireplace, both becoming mildly tipsy as they tell stories about their childhoods, and Hannibal’s face ends up chuckling so close to the crook of his neck, that Will can feel his warm breath on his skin. 

When they both retire for the night, and Will can’t get his mind off of how close Hannibal had gotten to him, Will is forced to then acknowledge; that this is a personal issue, not just Hannibal’s. 

In fact, Hannibal seems perfectly content to stay this way forever. 

Will however, knows something is lacking. 

In France, Will and Hannibal accept the jobs of instrument preservationists. It was a way to mix both of their interests into one gig. Hannibal can be around goliath sized pianos from the Victorian era all he likes, and Will can enjoy working on just about anything when he’s allowed to use a wrench and pliers. They refurbish old instruments, and repaint them. It is simple and rewarding work that pays pretty well, not that they need the money. 

It’s just a way to pass the time and blend in. 

They don’t see customers too often. Not many people want to buy a two thousand dollar worth piano or violin, but there is an interior designer named Estelle who spends her time catering to the elite social circles of France. That is the demographic for these instruments, as well as a variety of common collectors, and Hannibal always seems to know just the right model to suggest to the woman coming in with vague ideas about what her client wants. 

Will never pays her any mind, too absorbed in the act of accumulating grease on his elbows and sweat on his brow. He and Hannibal try to keep far apart to not draw any unneeded attention, anyway. 

It happens one evening when he is by the front desk chatting to the clerk named Ron whose first language is also not French. He and Will have become something resembling friends, both jokingly degrading each other for their mutual poor use of the French language, when Hannibal and Estelle make their way to the front door. 

Hannibal speaks eloquently and quickly to her about shipment and receipts, and Will has trouble following exactly what he’s saying, but that is when Estelle leans up and kisses him chastely, but purposefully, on the cheek. It isn’t in the European farewell sort of way either, there is intent behind this. Flirtation. Will can feel it like poison in the air. 

Ron is still speaking to him, but Will’s attention is now entirely locked onto Hannibal who smiles brightly at Estelle and holds the door open for her as she departs. 

Will feels like he just witnessed something illegal, in front of a group of people who are all too air-headed to realize. 

He rudely walks away from Ron and storms down the hall and into the back room where he workshops. He rips his gloves off and clocks his hours for the day. 

He’d break something if he tried to fix anything else today. 

Hannibal doesn’t return home until the end of his normal shift. 

Will had leftovers right when he’d gotten home, so Hannibal doesn’t have the opportunity to cook for him. Instead, he fixes them both glasses of champagne, and sits across from Will in one of the cushiony armchairs Will never sits in. They sink too much, and Will feels like he’s drowning. 

Will stares into the fire, ignoring the gaze burning a hole in his head accompanying the silent psychoanalyzation. 

“You left rather abruptly today,” Hannibal notes. 

Will cocks a brow in his direction, feeling bitter when he sees his face, his cheek where Estelle had placed her lips. What has become of him that he thinks these things? 

He has never considered being with another person other than Hannibal, not once. Not in a close friend way, and certainly not in a romantic way. Not once after the fall. 

It’s not as if he’s thought of Hannibal all that much in romantic connotations, but no matter what they are, he would never. He couldn’t. 

It makes him feel something dangerous, to understand that Hannibal feels differently. 

Will bites the inside of his cheek to restrain himself from barking out sarcastic insults that will get them nowhere, have gotten them nowhere in the past, and instead declares;

“I had a personal revelation.” 

“Would you care to tell me?” 

Will scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. 

So that’s it then? The elephant in the room finally emerges in this moment. Because Will had become agitated at work over a woman. Perfect. He can’t lie to Hannibal, he’s unable to, and he hates him for it, almost as much as he hates himself.

“Are you sleeping with Estelle?” Will asks, chin turned down towards his glass of champagne, half empty. He despises the vulnerability in his own voice.

Hannibal is taken aback. Never has a question gone so long without being answered between them, and after a few beats of gathering his faculties he responds, “No.” 

This doesn’t satisfy him, he demands more. 

“Would you sleep with her?” 

“Will, what is the significance – ”

“Just,” Will’s grip tightens on his glass, “answer it, please don’t make me – just answer me. If she asked, if she propositioned you. Would you sleep with her?” 

“No.” 

Will sighs, though the weight on his shoulders is still abnormally heavy and before his consciousness can even catch up with his mouth, he’s asking for more, divulging more about himself in the process, more than he’d ever planned to. 

“Have you considered sleeping with anyone since the bluff?” he asks, voice small again. When there is another long pause of hesitance, he adds, “Please don’t lie to me.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal confesses.

The glass in Will’s hand is definitely going to break at this rate. 

“Who?” he grits out.

“Will – ”

Will can’t hear this. It feels like breaking up and it feels like infidelity. It feels like betrayal, and god, it shouldn’t. It has no right feeling that way. 

“Tell me,” Will commands, firmly, “Who?” 

Hannibal averts his gaze, a rarity. 

“You,” he says in a low voice. “Only you.” 

Will stalls, and he sets his glass down on the coffee table in front of them to slump back, unable to do much else for a few moments other than stare blankly. 

“Oh,” Will murmurs, blinking a few times. All of the nauseous feelings wracking his body moments prior are forgotten. He scratches his beard and adds, “How long?” 

Hannibal smiles weakly, still staring at a spot on the rug rather than meeting his eyes. 

“That is a complicated question. It did not take me a long time at all to realize you were an exquisite person, inside and out.” 

Will lets out a long breath, trying to wrap his head around these sudden confessions. He knew Hannibal was in love with him, but hearing that he wants him, it’s something else entirely. 

“I never wished to make you uncomfortable, Will. What we have is a precious thing I would not exchange for anything else, and I hope that you will forgive me.” 

“Forgive you?” Will echoes. “Hannibal I’m n –I ’m not uncomfortable. ”

Hannibal turns to him finally, his eyes naked with wonder and almost fearful. As if one word could kill him in an instant. Will feels like shit for forcing the truth out in this way, but he supposes it’s better late than never. 

“Out of all the things you’ve done to me, Hannibal, wanting to screw me is pretty tame.” 

There is a grimace at the phrase ‘screw me’ that passes quickly over Hannibal’s face, but he looks more relieved than anything.

There is another long silence that feels like it's begging for someone to clear their throat, but Will won’t give into the cliche. As dry as his throat is in this very moment. 

Eventually, Hannibal breaks the silence.

“I do not want another person emotionally or physically, Will. Even if I cannot have all of you, I know I could never find solace in another human being.” 

Will lets out a shaky sigh and responds, “I’ve spent all these years on the run trying to puzzle us out, figure out what we are. I slapped about a hundred labels on us, and still couldn’t figure it out. I wondered if we were lovers of another kind. A rare type of coupling that happens only once in a million years.” 

Hannibal smirks, regaining his confidence. 

“You wanted to put us into a category? Are you sure Miss Lounds hasn’t gotten into your head?” 

Will pointedly ignores the comment about Freddie. 

“I wanted to know what we meant to each other, what it was really that kept us so irrevocably drawn together. I know you love me, and I love you, but I…”

He hadn’t expected to feel such intensity accompanying the admission. Hannibal is staring at him like he just dropped his glass of champagne on the rug, and Will feels very much like he did too. There’s no turning back now.  

“But, I don’t know how – how to want you.” 

Hannibal swallows, making hard eye contact with him from across the living room. The fire crackles just to the left, and time seems to slow down, becoming just as insignificant in their effectiveness as the clocks Will had once drawn. 

“Do you want to want me?” 

“Yes,” Will breathes, feeling the weight in the room vanish. “God, I feel like I’m going crazy sometimes with how much I want to want you. You belong to me, and I can’t even, I wouldn’t know how to – ”

He runs a hand through his hair and picks up his drink, chugging the rest of it before placing the glass back down on the table again. 

“I didn’t think we’d be doing this today,” he mutters to add levity to the situation. 

Hannibal huffs out a noise of amusement, head inclining downward in acquiescence. “I must admit, I had no plan for this either.” 

“We’ll figure it out?” Will asks, almost begging for assurance. 

Hannibal just smiles warmly and nods. 

“Of course. As we always do, together. If that is what you want.”

“It is,” Will responds softly. 

The image of Estelle kissing Hannibal’s cheek still plays in his mind, and he finds he needs one more clarification. Needing some form of profession, closure. 

“I know you said you wouldn’t desire anyone other than me, but,” Will swallows, now the one to avert his gaze. “You slept with Alana as a part of your mind games. Would you sleep with someone else if it were for one of those games? Just to pass the time if someone perhaps asked. To play with your food?” 

“You don’t want me to?” Hannibal questions sincerely. 

They have both played with their food in the past couple years. Neither of them has had sex with any of their victims, but it’s certainly a tactic used by Hannibal in the past. It is a natural question, because Hannibal does want to know Will’s specific limits. 

“No, I don’t want you to. I don’t think I could cope,” Will mutters, a bit vexed at being coaxed into such an admission, but he needs Hannibal to know he can’t.

“I would not have, even if you hadn’t asked. But, I won’t,” Hannibal tells him and cocks his head, waiting for Will to look at him before he implores, “I would ask the same of you, if you are willing to set these terms.”

“You don’t need to, I wouldn’t do, you know,” Will gesticulates wildly, “ that , either. Hell, I haven’t even thought about it since, well, since then.” 

The roar of the ocean just below the bluff echoes in Will’s ears for a moment, and he remembers the heated embrace he and Hannibal shared. 

It had been impossibly simple then, and Will remembers thinking for a fleeting moment that he’d like nothing more than to kiss him in the pale moonlight, while the blood still looked like shadows cascading over their heaving, broken bodies. He hasn’t thought of kissing him since, but he knows that he did once. Whenever he thinks of the bluff, he remembers wanting it then, wonders if he could ever recapture those instincts. 

“Are we in a relationship, Will?” Hannibal asks deviously, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Will feels heat rise in his chest. “I guess we have been,” he laughs under his breath, stomach quivering with it. “When did that happen?” 

Hannibal looks overjoyed and in any other situation it would piss Will off, but he can’t help but protrude his empathy toward him and feel it all the same. The elation, the relief, the love. It’s suffocatingly warm. 

“You said you want to want me,” Hannibal says after a gleaming pause. “Could you explain to me what that entails?” 

Will sighs, more at a loss for words than anything else. 

“I know you’ve been alright with the way we spend our time, with each other and otherwise. I know you would be satisfied if I were to never want anything,” he takes a deep breath, ignoring his nerves, “ romantic with you. Even if you want it, you would allow us to just coexist harmoniously, and lately I haven’t been seeing that outcome as ideal. I personally feel an empty cavernous space in our relationship, and with each day, it grows wider. I haven’t been able to fill it, I don’t exactly know how, but I think, I think that maybe I’ve been gradually growing magnetized to you in a way I am not familiar with.”

Will scratches his beard again, hysterically feeling like a schoolgirl admitting to their feelings to a crush, and Hannibal’s enthralled, completely in love expression, isn’t doing much to help. 

It is a night of many firsts, because Hannibal is now at a loss for words, so Will keeps talking. 

“I’m not gay, that’s never been a thing for me. Still isn’t, but imagine my shock when I realized how fucking in love with you I was and there was no way to express…” 

Will trails off, eyes welling up. 

“I’ve got no clue how to show you, I’ve got no clue if I could go through with anything. God, Hannibal, I’m sorry I’m not being coherent at all. I know you hate that.” 

“Will, not every conversation needs to be veiled in refined language and coherency,” Hannibal comforts, and Will registers the careful tone he is using. He uses it when he’s worried he’ll scare Will off. “Do you want to try?” 

“Try?” Will sniffs, swallowing the upsurge of emotion. “Try what?”

“Being with me?” he clarifies. “In that way.” 

Again, it is a simple and natural question. There shouldn’t be a reason that Will is so goddamn stumped, unable to give a short and understandable response.

He makes eye contact with Hannibal and expects to feel nervous, terrified even. But, Hannibal’s face is gentle and optimistic in a way that makes his heart ache, not cower. His breath catches in his throat, and he feels remnants of those urges he’d had on the bluff. 

“I do,” he says, a tad sheepish.

No one else would have noticed the way Hannibal blinks too fast and the way his Adam’s apple bobs dramatically before he manages to find his voice again.

“What is it specifically that you struggle with, Will?”

“I find you attractive, but I’m not attracted to men. It’s a conflicting feeling, and a simple, close-minded issue I suppose, but I often don’t think about our being together, because I can’t imagine myself with another man,” Will explains, feeling almost as if he’s in a therapy session. It feels good to have Hannibal listen to his uncertainties in this matter; he’s not sure he would have been able to think about these thoughts so clearly if Hannibal wasn’t here to help. 

“Have you had any feelings of this nature?” he presses.

“I’ve thought about kissing you once,” Will admits, jaw clenching as he shifts his gaze away again. He thinks of the bluff, but then of the kitchen in Baltimore, right before Hannibal stabbed him. “Maybe twice.” 

Hannibal leans forward, elbows on his knees and his expression softens.

“Would you be amenable to a suggestion?”

Will gives him a jerky nod. 

“Kiss me the next time you think about doing so,” Hannibal tells him. “You wouldn’t be forcing yourself into doing something you’re not sure you want to do. It might be easier to transition into something more, if you still want it by that point.”

It’s a good plan, with one flaw.

“Hannibal, I have no idea if I’ll have another one of those moments again. It was a fleeting, in the moment kind of deal. You might have to wait another few years or so, if we wait that long.”

“So I’ll wait. You should know very well that I am a patient man,” Hannibal responds brightly. “The admission that you’ve been thinking about these things in general is enough to keep me elated for years to come, I imagine.”

Will blushes and frowns, more out of embarrassment than anything else, and turns toward the fire. 

He startles when Hannibal reaches between them and lifts Will’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles chastely, satisfied beyond all words. Will can’t find it within himself to protest. 

His skin burns where Hannibal had lain a kiss, and they depart for bed not soon after, without another word, and a silent agreement between them. 

Hannibal is a bastard.

This isn’t news; Will has always known this. 

He had been thinking that imagining a kiss between them would be a hard thing to do, that another fleeting moment of wanton need for it wouldn’t come to pass. He didn’t want to lie to Hannibal and just kiss him to get it over with, he wanted to wait for the moment Hannibal told him to wait for, and he finds that the moment comes the very next day, and the day after that. 

It comes so often, Will thinks he’s going crazy. 

He can’t kiss him only a week after they’d discussed it. It would seem like he’s blatantly going against the rules. 

It’s not his fault he’s been thinking of it, it’s just something that’s been on his mind since the discussion. The urge and desire might just be derived from the need to test out the theory; can he overcome his reluctance to kiss a man?

One morning in late December, they are taking a stroll into the city. Sometimes they go without the car, opting for the forty five minute walk together, but it is rather cold, and Hannibal’s breath can be seen on the wind. It makes Will want to taste it, lean forward and feel the heat of his lips rather than the cold air on his own. 

It is a perfect moment, but something is still holding him back. 

He wants it and it’s a bit frightening how quickly the shift had occurred. Had it been his jealousy of Estelle or finally being able to admit out loud he’s open to the idea of possibly being romantically involved with Hannibal. Fuck. 

This isn’t easy. 

On their walk back home, Will braids their fingers together, and Hannibal looks at him like he’s just captured the moon for him. It’s intoxicating, and he decides that physical intimacy with a man isn’t so bad after all. Not if it’s him.

Will decides then, a bit deviously, that he’ll kiss him on New Year’s day. 

They don’t exactly celebrate the New Years holiday, but they are both aware of the change of year when the clock eventually ventures close to the stroke of midnight. 

The meal is only slightly more extravagant than their normal dinners, and Will feels sated and full while they help each other clean up. Hannibal washes the dishes while Will dries them and puts them in their proper place. It had been strange moving into a new house, a few times now, and figuring out where specifically Hannibal wanted the dishes placed. 

Now it’s as easy as pie. 

Will checks his watch to find the time at 11:58. 

Hannibal catches him doing so and cocks a brow, but Will does nothing but smile innocently in return. 

He takes the last plate to the kitchen cabinet by the right of them, and Will wonders how in the hell this could have been perfectly timed. Hannibal washes his hands in the sink with hand soap and Will follows suit, checking his watch again straight after. 

11:59.

“Are you late for something?” Hannibal teases, drying off his hands on the hand towel wrapped on a silver runged hanger. 

Will lifts up a pointer finger, rudely forcing Hannibal to wait without explanation, and when the time turns to 12:00 midnight, he wraps a hand around Hannibal’s tie and pulls him in for a firm kiss. 

Hannibal’s eyes widen as he’s pulled in, and he doesn’t have the time to kiss back before Will is letting go of his tie, and allowing him to wobble back into a stable standing position. 

“Happy new year,” Will says smugly, licking his lips.

It hadn’t felt much different than a kiss with a woman, it even felt more significant. He wants to do it again, and Hannibal very much looks like he was cheated. The kiss had only been a moment long and so Will pulls him in for a proper kiss, one where he can let Hannibal lead all he likes. 

Hannibal brings up a hand to cradle the back of Will’s head, making up for the first one by surrounding Will’s upper lip with both of his, and then his bottom lip, smiling against him as he opens up, tongue lapping each time they collide, and Will finally opens his mouth in a gasp, sighing when Hannibal slips inside.

Giddy is not what he thought he would be feeling with Hannibal pressed close to him, one hand still gently stroking through his curls, and one gripping his waist, but he is grinning between kisses, feeling for the first time in his life like something fits. 

When they both pull away for air, Will can feel Hannibal’s hot breath against his spit slick lips, and the moment is perfect. Hannibal is grinning too. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that,” Will mumbles jokingly. 

Hannibal’s teeth flash wider. 

“I must admit, Will, I had assumed I’d be waiting for quite a long time.” 

“Me too,” Will murmurs bashfully. 

The hand that was in Will’s hair has found its way to his face, and Hannibal is staring at him reverently, stroking a thumb under his eye. The contact feels so good, his eyes flutter closed. 

He doesn’t know what he expects next, but Hannibal pulls him closer, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. His arms coil around Will’s shoulders and he feels a kiss placed on the top of his head. 

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist in reciprocation, the hug far more intense than the kiss had been, somehow. This reminds him of the bluff, as many things between them do. 

Shocking dread that he might lose him one day rushes through Will and he grips tighter.

“Stay with me,” Will whispers, fear dancing along the edge of his voice. 

Hannibal takes a moment to pull back and cup Will’s face in both hands. With gentle eyes and an even gentler voice, he echoes words long forgotten

“Where else would I go?” 

Kissing becomes a regular occurrence in their household, and occasionally outside of it if Will is feeling particularly duplicitous. 

It took a while at first. Will had to learn to incorporate kisses into their routines. Hannibal very rarely wants to be doing anything that isn’t kissing Will, and Will had encouraged him to “go for it” whenever he felt like doing so. So, there is quite a bit of lip locking, especially during tedious (but necessary) tasks. 

At work, Will had been on one of those rollers you lay atop of, the ones that help when you need to go under the car to fix the wiring. Really, it doesn’t make sense that they exist for piano repair too, but Hannibal had used it to his advantage nonetheless.

He had grabbed the cart Will had been lying back down on and tugged it out from under the piano so abruptly Will had dropped his pliers on his stomach. Hannibal’s mouth was covering his before he could even voice a complaint. 

He’d pushed him away because one, it was in the middle of their workplace, and two, upside down kisses don’t work as well as they do in the movies apparently. Hannibal’s teeth had scratched his bottom lip. 

That’s when he realized he’d gotten quite used to the kissing.

It’s what doesn’t stop him from going too far. 

A few months after the New Year, Will and Hannibal are making out on their living room couch. It had been a rainy day all day, no reason to go outside and spend time hiking. Not much else to do other than cook, be artistic, and be intimate. 

Hannibal does all of those things and Will can really only manage one, so he’s pretty satisfied to be comfortably pressed up against his side, being kissed until there is nothing but static in his brain. 

Hannibal has one hand on his neck, where it is normally placed, and the other is stroking very gradually from his hip up to his pectoral muscles, and back down. The gentle caressing makes him feel warm, and safe. The familiar press of Hannibal’s tongue inside his mouth makes the butterflies in his chest flap rampantly. He thought that after a while those feelings would go away, kind of hoping they would so he could stop feeling like a virgin college student who’d just discovered he’d like to try experimenting. 

It doesn’t matter, as long as Hannibal is with him, and they want each other. 

Mine, he thinks, and presses closer.

Will runs a hand through Hannibal’s hair to mess it up. He likes doing that, it makes him look good and rugged. Where his other hand is trailing down the curve of his neck, Hannibal’s skin is hot to the touch. 

“Mmm,” Will’s voice rumbles, breaking off to catch his breath. This is the longest they’ve gone just kissing one another. It always makes him feel light-headed and limited on oxygen. He’s not sure he’d mind if he passed out from it. 

“I think we should stop for tonight,” Hannibal suggests calmly, petting down Will’s flanks. 

Will smirks and doesn’t think about it as he insinuates a leg in between Hannibal’s to get closer so he can kiss him again, both of their lips tacky with spit and sticking together when they collide again. Hannibal makes a small noise as Will’s knee brushes up against his erection. 

He’s extremely hard, and Will moves back more out of shock than anything else. 

“I apologize,” Hannibal says quickly. “I should have stopped this sooner.” 

“No, don’t apologize,” Will responds in a rush, cheeks still hot. “I just can’t believe you got that worked up over just kissing me.” 

Will hasn’t exactly gotten hard from any of the kisses they’ve shared, and he doesn’t know if that is because of his residual hang ups on his sexuality, or because kissing has just never turned him on in general. He doesn’t remember getting hard kissing Molly, but he always knew it would lead to sex. 

He hadn’t even assumed Hannibal might be getting immensely turned on by this, and he feels guilty for not noticing sooner. 

Hannibal still looks unsure, so Will takes his hand in his own and kisses his knuckles like Hannibal always does to calm him. 

“Hey, I wouldn’t have wanted to stop sooner.” 

Hannibal’s cheeks rise, and his face is a deeper shade than usual. Will wants desperately to keep kissing him, but he’s also a man who knows how hard it is to get your mind off of sex when your body’s decided that’s what it wants. 

“I like it,” Will adds. “It reminds me you’re human.” 

“I do not want to rush you, in any way,” Hannibal admits slowly. “I did not want to make you anxious at the prospect of any future consummation in our relationship.”

Will’s throat grows dry as Hannibal continues, “If that is still something you want, one day.” 

“I want that with you,” Will turns his gaze down toward where their hands are interlocked. “I do one day, but I haven’t had any…feelings about that lately. It’s much more complicated than kissing, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal nods. “I know.” 

“Even with women, it takes a lot to, uh, arouse me.” Will feels a blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, unfortunately exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. He harps a blunt laugh. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it just makes me nervous wondering how I’m going to feel when I’m trekking into unchartered waters.”

“I do not want to join with you in that way unless you physically want to be with me, Will,” Hannibal states, firm in his decision. 

“That might never come,” Will has to admit the truth. “I don’t think it will be like the last time when I couldn’t stop thinking of kissing you right after our discussion. I knew we’d be having this discussion sooner or later, and I still haven’t had those urges. I’m sorry.” 

“Will, do not apologize for that,” Hannibal tips his chin up so he can make eye contact. Will feels weak under his stare. “You do not know what you have already given me.”

“But, what if – ”

“If you never want it, Will, I am satisfied.”

I want to want it, though. More than anything. Badly. Will melts into the hand cupping his scarred cheek, turning to kiss his palm.

“Have you ever felt arousal towards me, Will? Because of me?” Hannibal questions then. His voice sounds a bit tired, as if this question has been weighing on his mind for a while.

The simple answer is no. Nothing like a spontaneous erection of blood flowing to his nether region, balls tightening lightly out of attraction. Nothing like that. 

The complicated answer?

“Sometimes, I get this feeling like my blood is boiling underneath my skin. My eyelids feel heavy, and my limbs loose and limp like I’d just spent all my energy crawling out of my own grave. When you look at me, really look at me sometimes I feel that way. It’s unlike any kind of arousal I’ve had with a woman and I’ve certainly never felt that way about another man. It’s just you,” Will replies. 

He pictures the time Hannibal had asked if he fantasized about killing him, how he would do it. He remembers staring straight back into that black abyss of eyes and feeling heat and power, and all those aforementioned feelings that wracked him from head to toe. Feelings he’d never felt, before he’d answered, “With my hands.” 

“Would you consider that a form of arousal?” Will prods further. 

Hannibal looks conflicted. He looks a little worried that if he agrees, Will might take it as a go ahead to try and fuck him the next time he feels that way, but also that if he disagrees Will might never even think of trying. He also looks very horny. 

“I would. But, it matters what you think,” Hannibal decides plainly.

“I think I’d count it,” Will mutters, staring at Hannibal’s lips. “Do I have your permission to try you out for size next time I feel such a way?” 

Hannibal eyes blink closed for a fraction too long before he opens them and gives a heavy nod. In order to prevent him from regretting his decision, Will leans in to place a chaste, loving kiss on his lips. 

When Hannibal kisses back, Will bites his bottom lip hard, drawing blood. 

Hannibal barely flinches, pulling back with wide eyes before Will is leaning back in again to lick the blood off of Hannibal’s lips and deepen their kiss. “A contract signed in blood,” he murmurs against his lips and Hannibal grips his arm so tight the bones nearly snap. 

A week later, Hannibal and Will attend a socialite's dinner party. 

The man, Beau Lirette, had met Hannibal at their place of work. He’d purchased a large ivory piano and had chatted idly to Hannibal about compositions until Hannibal had worn him down and the man had asked if he’d like to play a tune or two at his upcoming anniversary with his wife. 

There aren’t many people at the party, and it strikes Will strange that they’d be invited alongside a handful of his friends, if these even are his friends. 

“This guy’s giving you a run for your money,” Will mutters to Hannibal after the first course, when the group disperses from the dining table and moves around the house like ants exploring a new mound of dirt. Except the dirt is a five million dollar mansion with a waterfall just beyond the front door. 

Hannibal isn’t too appreciative of Will’s words and Will is thrilled at the fact he can still manage to bruise Hannibal’s ego. 

“Don't start. You know I prefer your cooking,” he reassures, squeezing Hannibal’s wrist and a shrewd thought crosses his mind. 

He stops one of the waiters carrying around silver trays of champagne and asks politely where the bathroom is located. The man points upstairs and down the left hall. 

“Thank you,” Will says and waits for the waiter to walk completely out of earshot before he stretches up to speak close to Hannibal’s ear. “Countdown from the two minute mark and then follow me.”

Hannibal analyzes Will, finding no answers in his carefully calculated expression. He says nothing as he watches Will ascend the marble steps and vanish down the left hall. 

It is dark upstairs, and the doors of the left hall are all ajar, whereas the doors on the ride side all appear locked. Perhaps this side of the house contains the guest quarters, a way to make sure guests don’t wander into the bedrooms of the host and decide they want to snatch a few souvenirs. 

Will doesn’t actually intend on using the bathroom, so he glances through the toiletries spread out before him. This bathroom is definitely not used by the host, only occasionally perhaps. There is a door leading to an adjoining bedroom that had been shut but not locked, and Will snoops inside, finding it small enough, but with a bed big enough for two. 

Interesting.  

Hannibal appears in the open doorway of the bathroom in no time with a curious look on his face. Will smirks when he sees him, cocking his brow, an invitation.

Finally, Hannibal understands Will’s design. 

“Will, we are in another person’s house,” Hannibal reminds. It is not anything resembling an admonishment, for Will thinks Hannibal would kiss him atop the dining table in front of the whole party, if he asked nicely. “We are guests.” 

In a sultry manner, Will drags him in by his tie, fingers inching up the fabric as he continues to pull him closer. “If he catches us, we kill him.” 

Hannibal’s pupils dilate, and he puts up no resistance as he’s drawn in. 

Instead of kissing him, Will reopens the bedroom door and tugs him inside with a harsh grip, closing the door behind them. Hannibal’s eyes search the room, wide with wonder, as he hadn’t expected a bedroom to be hiding behind what looked like a restroom closet. 

There is an implication to dragging Hannibal into a bedroom, an implication he hadn’t exactly been fully considering until right now, and he knows Hannibal won’t make any moves on him if he doesn’t ask, but he still voices his reasoning just to make sure they’re on the same page. 

“It’s not what you think,” Will tells him, watching Hannibal’s eyes dart over the bedsheets and back to his face. “It’s just easier than kissing you against a bathroom counter.” 

Will shoves him down on the bed with two flat palms and pats his thigh to get him to shift closer to the middle of the bed. Hannibal goes gracefully, as Will clamors down beside him, kissing his parted lips with fervor. 

It tastes like the dinner they’d just consumed, and Hannibal, and a bit of the coffee they’d shared this morning, all wrapped into one. Hannibal lifts up off the sheets just enough to throw himself fully into the kiss, one hand dragging over Will’s scalp. 

“I wouldn’t want our first time to be in some prissy idiot’s mansion anyway,” Will murmurs, relaxing for the first time tonight from the touch of Hannibal’s hands and mouth, his heavy warm body stretched out underneath him. 

“Probably doesn’t even have any lube handy, anyway,” Will says because lube is definitely a part of homosexual intercourse that they’re going to need to think about one day. Hannibal’s kisses are becoming desperate, as if he wants to taste Will by biting into him and ripping his flesh off. A horrible part of Will would allow it. He continues rambling a bit even when Hannibal is now on top of him, kissing and sucking on his neck, leaving marks that the guests will certainly recognize as what they are. 

There is a warm stirring in his gut, but it is only close to arousal. 

“You’d probably want a hundred candles in the room too, all scented really nice. What would you use? Pine? Lemon? Fresh linen,” he says the last option with a chuckle, and Hannibal makes a broken noise which is muffled into his neck. 

It is the first time Will notices how roughly Hannibal is breathing, and the cock hardening against his thigh. 

“My gibberish sex fantasy is really what’s getting you off?” Will asks delicately, trying not to bark out a laugh, because he knows Hannibal is a volatile personality and would take significant offense. 

Hannibal has to catch his breath, face still tucked into the crook of Will’s neck. He can feel it like a breath of fresh air when he finally relaxes and rests on his side, looking up at Will with dark eyes and a suspiciously insecure smile. 

“I feel bad I keep getting you worked up when – ” When I can’t get hard. When I have no intention of going through with sex yet. When I lead you on by accident. When I just mean to kiss you and it always turns into something more. 

So many things he can’t say. 

Hannibal shakes his head, a soothing gesture, but Will still feels tense. He takes a deep breath and trails his hand down Hannibal’s chest, descending down to the front of his pants before Hannibal can realize what he’s doing. He brushes his fingers once over the sizable bulge in his trousers and Hannibal snarls, grabs his wrist with a sudden violence that leaves Will cold. 

Hannibal’s face softens, instantly apologetic as he loosens his grip.

“I don’t want it this way, Will,” he says in a low voice and Will’s gaze flickers down between them, where Hannibal’s fingers are still loosely wrapped around his wrist, making sure it doesn’t snake back down between them. “I couldn’t allow you to.” 

“But, you want it,” Will presses. “I’m a grown man, I can make my own choices, Hannibal. I’m not some blushing virgin who doesn’t know how sex works. Just because I don’t want anything yet, doesn’t mean that I can’t – ”

“No.” It makes him tense to hear Hannibal’s voice strained. He’s pleading for Will to understand, Will thinks he does. If he were in Hannibal’s position, he’d be doing the same thing. 

A beat passes before Hannibal can force his next words out; “It would be torture.” 

“I know I’m inexperienced but I doubt my touching you would be torture,” Will jokes, the side of his mouth upturned. Hannibal’s huffs in amusement and lets his wrist fall between them. 

Hannibal instead brings his hand up to Will’s uninjured cheek and strokes the skin there, watching him with adoration. 

“It would be all I’d ever dreamed of. And the reality that I wouldn’t be able to make you feel the same after the fact would haunt me for as long as I live, I’m quite sure of it.” 

“When did you become so romantic,” Will mutters, cheeks feeling warm under his touch. Hannibal smiles, continues his caress. 

“I’ve always been a romantic for you, Will.” 

“I suppose that’s true,” Will admits. “I liked the valentine you made me in Florence. It was beautiful. I watched it come to life before my very eyes.” 

“Did it beat very fast?” 

“Fast enough to let me know you were thinking of me.” 

Hannibal hums and leans in to place a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a few moments before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together.

The guests have definitely gathered back at the dining table by now, preparing to take on the dessert course. Hannibal could always make the two of them a dessert when they get home, and he’ll make it himself which is always what is more important to Will than anything else. 

“I knew you were there in the catacombs,” Will whispers. “I could feel you. How did I feel you?” 

Hannibal doesn’t have an answer for that, perhaps he’s asked himself the same question, but he does confirm, “Yes. I was there. I heard you forgive me, and I had the simultaneous urge to set fire to the Norman Chapel and whisk you away somewhere, even if you told me not to.” 

Will shudders, liking the prospect of both ideas very much. 

“I’m glad you did neither.” 

“I left, instead,” Hannibal bitterly recollects. 

“Kiss me,” Will begs, suddenly desperate for it. Hannibal shoots him with a puzzled look, but he presses forward and holds Hannibal’s body close to his as he licks into Hannibal’s mouth. “Just kiss me, please.” 

Hannibal complies, still somewhat aroused, but calmer than before as he leans in and allows Will to envelop him. Will grips Hannibal’s hair possessively, dragging the nails of his other hand along Hannibal’s jaw, moans into his mouth at the feeling of Hannibal’s tongue swiping against the roof of his mouth. 

If they go at this long enough, Hannibal might devour him, and the stirring in his gut feels more intense, warmer in reaction. It makes him feel heady in his temples, his chest. 

They decide to split apart before the night gets too late. They don’t want to appear suspicious, but Will suspects that if they’d gone a little longer, he might have become aroused. He certainly was yearning, needy to kiss Hannibal and claim him, perhaps needier than he’s been so far. 

“May I draw you this evening?” Hannibal requests. 

It is a month following the dinner party, on no day in particular. By his side in the kitchen, Will shrugs and nods, and Hannibal lips stretch into a wide smile. 

Occasionally, when he asks Will to pose for him, Will declines because sitting in the same place for an hour or two really encourages the ache in his shoulder to not just ache, but burn. But, he’d said no last time, and the ache isn’t all that aggravating today. 

“Where?” 

“The living room, the long couch beside the fireplace. Could you wear your black robe?” Hannibal finishes up at the sink and hangs his apron up on the hanger in the kitchen closet. 

“Yep.” 

“Meet me there in fifteen minutes,” Hannibal implores with a knowing smile. He is always excited to draw him. Will guesses it’s because he wants some way of remembering him just in case he were to not be around one day. Though Will never plans to leave Hannibal whether it's by choice or through death. 

He strips when he gets to his bedroom and takes a quick glance at himself in the mirror. His muscles have been becoming more refined, as his runs in the morning have been taking on a more athletic nature. His thighs look stronger than they’ve been in years. His skin is clear and he looks healthy; this might be due to a balanced diet, but nonetheless it is satisfying. 

He looks good, and it’s the first time in his life he can really admit he looks rather handsome. He isn’t sure if it’s for Hannibal or because of Hannibal, but either way, Will feels the sudden urge to show him. 

The feeling gets trapped in his throat and it’s a little hard to breathe as he imagines Hannibal watching him, worshipping his body, praising him for his beauty. 

Hannibal will be watching him while he draws him. The realization strikes up an opportunity, so after a quick shower, he straightens his hair out with his fingers, and slips the black robe on, discarding the silk belt that keeps it tied together.

As he makes his way towards the living room, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels like he’s walking barefoot on gravel. Ever so slowly wandering closer to Hannibal who is adding fuel to the firewood. 

He is holding together his robe with crossed arms, and Hannibal doesn’t seem to notice the missing belt when he turns and greets him with a pleased smile. 

“You can lay down for this piece,” Hannibal gestures to the couch across from his armchair, where he’s sat and drawn him occasionally in the past. 

Will waits for Hannibal to sit down, watches him with wide eyes, so wide Hannibal inclines his head forward with immediate concern. 

“Is there a problem Will? If you’ve changed your mind – ”

Without dwelling on the matter further, Will uncrosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, allowing the silk robe to drift off his body. He is completely bare underneath. 

Will can’t take his eyes off of Hannibal’s face. He watches him go from shocked to completely aroused in seconds, unashamedly dragging his gaze over the front of Will’s body, eyes lingering on the flaccid cock hanging between his legs. 

Will keeps his posture straight, even as he feels like wobbling over from nerves and a potent unfamiliar feeling which makes his head throb and his heart strain. 

“Is this alright?” his voice is small as he asks. 

Hannibal seems to catch himself before he sinks deeper into a trance, eyes trailing back up towards his. Will licks his lips, feeling a blush crawl up his chest, tingling in his veins. 

“More than,” Hannibal says, voice unwavering. 

Will moves to lie down in the position Hannibal had suggested, knowing full well he isn’t as graceful in his movements as Hannibal would be, but Hannibal’s hungry eyes are enough to make him relish a sense of accomplishment. 

It takes Hannibal a moment to fumble for the right pencil and actually start putting led to paper, but when he does, Will attempts to remain as still as possible, trying to squash the urge to heave in large breaths, keeping himself steady. 

He should have thought about something like this before. He’d thought about his blood boiling under his skin when Hannibal has gazed at him in the past. When Hannibal has looked at him like he wants to devour him; it all drives Will close to some sort of edge. 

Instead of his blood boiling this time, his cock starts to fill. 

It takes all of his faculties not to grin in triumph, and he’s a bit too aroused to be fully smug about this. He keeps his eyes on Hannibal’s eyes, watching him indulge in the sight of his nude body, spread out before him like a dish. 

About thirty minutes in, Will is shifting a bit restlessly. His cock has been half hard all this time, begging to be touched. It feels like Hannibal’s nails scraping down his flanks whenever he makes a broad stroke on the paper with his pencil. It feels like a touch when he looks at him, eyes lowering down to his abdomen, as entranced by Will’s arousal as Will is. 

Another thirty minutes in, Will forces himself to say something or else he’ll start reaching out and touching himself, and he wants to save that all for Hannibal. 

“It feels like a caress,” he mumbles, surprised even his tone of voice sounds aroused, “when you look at me like that.” 

Hannibal startles, glancing up from his sketchpad. 

“It feels physical,” Will reiterates, perhaps to explain away his erection, or to goad Hannibal into making a move. He’s not sure how much longer he can lie here without it becoming torture. 

Torture is a word they both like to pass around in a sexual connotation, it seems. 

Hannibal’s eyes grow soft, and his expression thoughtful. 

“The soul that can speak through the eyes can also kiss with a gaze,” he says, returning to his sketch. 

“You quoting something or was that all you?” Will pries. 

Hannibal smirks, keeping his eyes on his sketch. Will registers his cheeks are redder than when they’d started. He wonders if he lifted up his sketchpad now, if he could see his erection through his black trousers. 

“It was by a Spanish poet, Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.” 

“And for a second I thought you’d finally said something original.” 

They chuckle in unison, the atmosphere of the room lightening and growing less tense with each passing second. Will’s arousal doesn’t waver, however. 

Neither does his embarrassment of being stark naked in the middle of the living room, but that’s a small price to pay for Hannibal’s desire. 

“How, uh, how long is this going to take?” Will asks after another few minutes. They both know why he’s asking, and the butterflies in his stomach become a swinging pendulum, cutting into his sides with sharp anticipation, a deadly cadence. 

Hannibal looks up at him again, eyes trailing down deliberately to admire his erection. He licks his lips, parting them, and makes eye contact with Will when he answers.

“Not long.”

Will would have badgered him for a crystal clear response if he weren’t so willing to please Hannibal in this instance. At another point in his life, he would have considered that submissiveness weak, especially for a man, but his head is cloudy with thoughts of lust and need and not much else.

It’s been a long time since he’s had sex.

If he’s going to initiate this, it needs to be tonight. 

Hannibal only takes another ten minutes, and Will would have thought it was because he was in a rush, but he takes a few short strides to where Will is lying and hands him the finished work. Kneeling before him, he auspiciously watches him scrutinize his art.

In the sketch, Will is lying naked with eyes closed on a cloud. He is as nude as the day he was born, and a large white wing protrudes from behind his back, outstretched and feathery in his slumber. He is asleep, and innocently bare, unlike the more erotic position he’d been presenting Hannibal with. 

It is masterfully crafted, and Will’s eyes glisten with something anomalous. A sort of somber awe, that someone was willing to pour their soul into pencil and paper and draw his body of all things. It strikes him differently than drawings Hannibal has made of him in the past. 

“When you stretched out before me, you reminded me of the purity of the cupid, with your soft curls and supple skin. In early Renaissance poetry, the imagery of a Cupid in his slumber represented the act of languishing one's love for another.” 

Will’s gaze is distant when he stares at the image of himself on the paper. 

“Cupid’s arrow became a part of his mythology as arrows wound and set aflame their victims, as love wounds and inflames one’s heart. You have done more than set fire to my heart, Will, you’ve flagrantly torn into my flesh and ignited what has remained cold for as long as I can remember.” 

Will looks up at Hannibal behind tears that don't fall, but burn, and a gawky smile forms on his lips before he whispers, “It’s beautiful.” 

Will sets aside the sketchpad on the coffee table and sits up, watching Hannibal’s heavy gaze trace the lines and curves of his body without the veil of a figure drawing observer. It sets his skin alight, and his blood boils once more, a rush of power running through him. 

“Hannibal, I want you,” he discloses, knees parting just so. 

Hannibal looks up at his face from where he’s still kneeling on the floor. Will can feel his fingers on his ankles, stroking the soft skin over his Achilles tendons.

“Are you sure?” It looks like it pains Hannibal to double-check, but he’s a gentleman for doing so. Will might not have asked that in his position.

For a moment, he isn’t sure, retracing all the steps that led him here and wondering if he’s rushing into things by throwing himself at Hannibal the first time he’d felt the slightest hint of arousal.

Then he really looks at Hannibal’s face. 

Hannibal’s eyes are half-lidded, his cheeks pink, and his lips parted and slick with hot, heaving breaths, and he decides that he wants nothing more than to lose himself in him. Sex with someone of the same gender is trivial compared to the momentous feelings he harbors for him. And he’s still hard, remarkably. 

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything in my life,” Will responds. 

Hannibal cocks a brow in a teasing gesture and Will huffs. 

“This is a moment of clarity for me. You know I haven’t had many of those. I had one before we fell,” Will places a hand in Hannibal’s hair and the older man’s eyes slowly shut. “And, I’m very much having one now.” 

“As long as there are no ledges near by, I’m sure I will delight in your clarity,” Hannibal says in good humor. “May I take you to bed?” 

Will bites his lip, teasing him for a moment longer. 

“You’ve been waiting a while to ask me that.” 

Hannibal blinks twice, almost expecting to be rejected. Will supposes he has good reason to think that given their history, but Will cups the back of Hannibal’s neck and drags him in for a kiss. This time, the kiss sparks heat up and down Will’s spine and he can feel his cock twitch against his thigh. 

“So have I,” he whispers, arousal so overwhelming he feels faint. 

Hannibal stands, and reaches out a hand for Will to take and haul himself up. Blood rushes fast throughout his body after such a long while lying in one position, and his head throbs due to it. Hannibal must see his grimace, and the hand which rubs at his own temples on the way to the bedroom, and at the open archway. Hannibal kisses both his brows.

“Allow me to help you forget the aches and pains tonight.” 

“I’m sure there are aches you won’t dismantle,” Will replies in a teasing lilt. 

A devious smirk appears. “Perhaps.”

Hannibal closes the door behind them, an unnecessary stride, but it makes the room feel more personal, and intimate. 

Will feels ridiculous standing nude in the middle of the room while Hannibal is still fully clothed, but he strolls to the edge of Hannibal’s bed, strewn in golden silk sheets, and sits upon them.

For his part, Hannibal looks nervous. As Hannibal Lecter is not a man known to be nervous, it comes across as muted insecurity and restrained eagerness. 

“Come closer,” Will beckons. 

Hannibal walks to the edge of the bed, until his knees are nearly knocking into Will’s, and he gazes down at him, still with that look in his eye like he can’t quite believe Will is here in his bedroom, intending to have sex with him. Wanting to. 

Will reaches up just enough to start unbuttoning Hannibal’s dark blue shirt. It is all he is wearing, and Will is thankful he didn’t have to disassemble one of his three piece suits. 

After he is done, Will runs a hand through the hair on his chest. There is not too much or too little. It is a handsome color, accenting his chest with a deep silver, reminding Will somehow of the timbre in his voice. Hannibal’s breath catches when he curls a fist and tugs on it gently. 

Hannibal’s eyes are asking what his mouth is unwilling to voice; Do you like it?

“It’s different. I expected to be turned off, but maybe because it’s you…” Will drags his nails down his sternum, liking the tickle of it against his skin, “It appeals to me immensely.” 

Hannibal hums as he does it again, getting used to the feeling.

“Do you care that I don’t have any?” Will asks bluntly, just curious. “Are you into that?” 

“I, like you, find appeal in your appearance because it is you. I have never had a type, as you might say, but everything about you is preferable to me, because you are all that I desire.” 

“Careful, Cupid’s arrow sounds like it’s running a bit hot in there,” Will traces over his chest where his heart is pumping away, thankfully not punctured with a genuine arrow. 

Hannibal smirks and slips off his shirt completely, revealing those muscles that drive Will mad. He tries not to stare at them, but he’s spent so long groping them while kissing Hannibal, he’d been eager to get to look at them and feel them in this context. 

“I think that it took awhile for my brain to understand I wasn’t trying to force myself to want a man, and that I was just trying to find a way to want who I love.” Will swallows an upsurge of doubt and contrition. “I think I’ve always wanted you, and clearly didn’t know what was up from down. I’ve done quite a bit of time wasting.” 

Hannibal soothes him with a hushing sound and leans down on one knee to stroke his thighs in a gentle caress. It isn’t meant to be arousing, but his touch there still sparks a moment of heat. Instead of honing in on it, he allows himself to be kissed. 

Hannibal pulls back for only a second to speak in a low voice, rhythmic like the tide of an ocean. 

“You’ve wasted no time at all. I could not imagine a more perfect moment.” 

His mouth is kind and warm where it presses up against his own, non-intrusively. He parts his lips to allow Hannibal inside, but Hannibal seems to want to keep things gradual and natural, as he pulls back the second Will attempts to deepen it.

Will glances down at his pants to see the sizable bulge and he tugs Hannibal back up in a standing position before he gets to work on the belt, button, and zipper. 

“Do not rush into anything, Will,” Hannibal reminds softly, not stopping him even after his warning. Will nods, and helps him step out of his pants before his fingers flutter over the briefs keeping his erection sealed. These are also black, hard to see the outline of anything, and Will’s mouth waters which doesn’t even happen when he’s with women. 

Hannibal nearly moves as he can see Will’s hesitation, but Will grabs him by the hips and curls his fingers into the waistband. Before tugging down, he looks up, staring him straight in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?” 

The heated, patient expression on Hannibal’s face shifts into something resembling vulnerability. One of his hands cards into Will’s hair, and he appears on the verge of tears all of a sudden. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he strokes a few times through his curls with a devastatingly loving touch before he nods, decisive. 

Will shelfs away his shock at Hannibal’s speechlessness, opting instead to focus on lowering Hannibal’s briefs, watching his nearly fully hard cock spring out in slow motion. 

It is large, but not incredibly large. There is girth, but then again not incredible. It’s a perfect cock, or what Will assumes is a perfect cock. He hasn’t thought much about it over the years. Wonder how that will feel , he thinks. 

“May I kiss you?” Hannibal asks abruptly, and Will nods. Hannibal leans forward without hesitation, kissing him firmly on the lips, and Will realizes that Hannibal is not the type of person that enjoys being under an eye of scrutiny, even by Will. One day, perhaps he’ll rectify that. 

“Hannibal,” he rasps between kisses, “Can we–we should,” He breaks the kiss completely to gesture to the middle of his bed. Hannibal’s leaning down at an awkward angle, and Will’s legs are still dangling off the edge of the bed. “Move.” 

Hannibal smiles in understanding and lets him shimmy towards the middle. He follows not soon after, gracefully towering over Will on all fours, like a beast in the wild. Will is balancing on his elbows and he smirks back at him, dragging him back in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Hannibal is trying not to lean so much weight on Will, either out of extreme courtesy, or because he believes he’ll scare Will away if he displays too much readiness. 

Will trails one of his hands down the smooth incline of Hannibal’s back and presses him downward so he collides with his body. They both gasp at the intimacy, and Will grinds up into the sweaty heat between their pelvises with a sigh. 

“Oh, this is much better than the kissing we’ve been doing,” Will mumbles, splaying his fingers over Hannibal’s biceps to feel the bulky muscle there. 

It’s more than intoxicating, Hannibal’s attention directed completely towards him, their world narrowed down to just the two of them and their pleasure. To have his body completely surrounding him. He feels drunk and high all at once, and goes a bit off the rails as he drags Hannibal in for another intense kiss, moaning into his mouth as he feels the dry skin of their cocks glide against each other. 

“Will,” Hannibal says faintly, it is almost unheard between their heavy breathing. Will sucks on his bottom lip, letting it fall from his mouth as he stares up at him and Hannibal continues sounding quietly frenzied, “You make me lose myself.” 

“Tell me about it,” Will mutters, never imagining he’d be in this position in his entire life. If someone had told him ten years prior he’d be desperately needy for sex with a man come the following decade, he’d tell that person to go fuck themselves. 

They can’t keep kissing and grinding or they’ll both be so close to the edge they might start tearing into flesh and ripping hair out. Hannibal kisses down his neck and whispers against his collarbone, “What do you desire, dear Will?” 

Will’s brain is sort of blanked out from the hickey-kisses he’s sucking into his skin, but he manages to form a response, albeit belatedly.

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you care to see this the full way through?” Hannibal questions, and Will could curse him for being so irritatingly vague sometimes. “Or would you prefer we keep things simple.” 

Full. That’s all Will really understands. He wants the full thing or not at all. 

“I want all you can give me,” Will tells him. “I want to go the full way through.” 

Hannibal smiles, and strokes his cheek, resting his weight on one arm, beside Will’s head. His hand travels down over Will’s smooth chest, over his thigh, curving gently around the meat of one of his ass cheeks. He resists bucking up.

“Would you allow me to be inside you? Or would you prefer it the other way around?” Hannibal asks him this simply, as if it were an average, everyday question. 

A thready whine escapes Will’s throat before he can help it, and Hannibal’s eyes dart to his, a fiery pride deeply embedded in those golden irises. 

Will hadn’t even considered the other way around when he’d thought of this in the clinical way. He’d been so focused on imaging what it would be like to be taken, to have a cock inside of him, Hannibal’s cock specifically. 

He decides he’ll allow the other way around to overwhelm him another day. It is too much all at once, and in his relaxed and languid state he’s not even sure if he could find the energy to get up and dominate Hannibal like that.

It doesn’t mean the thought of it doesn’t strike heat low in his gut, because it does very much so, and the heat rises to his cheeks like a burner on a stove set to high. He is going to have to say it out loud. It’s almost too much.

“I–I want you inside of me,” Will drags out the words, as if that will make the admission easier. Instead of any mocking response, he watches Hannibal’s eyes widen gradually and his pupils swallow the color of his eyes. 

Hannibal looks like he’s about to pass out, so Will kisses his cupid’s bow, and meets his gaze with as confident an expression as he can muster. 

“Please,” he lulls, knowing precisely what it does to him. 

Hannibal kisses his lips earnestly and climbs over him to reach his bedside drawer. Just as Will had expected, he’d been storing lube there. A large bottle too, and Will has to smirk at that. A presumption that they’d be having quite a bit of sex sooner or later, it seems. 

They forgo a condom without discussion. It’s common sense really. One of them would mention if they had any diseases unbeknownst to the other, and it’s not as if they didn’t have one another’s blood mixing around in their bloodstreams. 

He returns and places the bottle of lube to the right of Will’s hip. 

Hannibal must sense the sudden tension in Will’s body, because he starts descending down his chest with gentle kisses, rubbing pressure points with his thumbs to ease the tension into a heady relaxation. “This will not hurt if I am slow. And I won’t hurt you.” 

Will nods, believing him. 

Hannibal licks over one of his nipples on his way back up, and it sends a shock through Will’s body, a shock he’d never considered a forty year or so old man could even get from nipple stimulation. Or perhaps he’s never had a woman touch him there, so he couldn’t have known. 

It strikes him all of a sudden that he’s had very basic vanilla sex his entire life. Mostly missionary, and sometimes women would ride him, but he’d never initiate that position. He wonders if he’ll even enjoy this or if it’ll all be so new that he won’t be able to properly absorb into the feelings and sensations. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Hannibal whispers, kissing the crook of his neck. 

Will comes back from himself. 

“I’m here,” he assures. 

Hannibal appears mildly unconvinced, but he uncaps the lube and squeezes some out onto two fingers. For a moment, Will thinks he’s going to start with two and his eyes widen, anxiety rippling through him, but Hannibal just smirks and reaches down to use the two of them to rub around his hole, slathering it on his rim, stimulating it to relax and open up. 

Will digs his nails into Hannibal’s shoulder, his other hand gripping the one that is working diligently between their bodies. 

The sensation is strange, but alluring. He can feel his body clench around nothing when Hannibal adds a bit of pressure, and he can feel his hole swell out, almost attempting to follow his movements. 

Will’s breathing has grown heavy and his eyes are glazing over when he realizes Hannibal has been watching his face this whole time with wide, observing eyes. Before Will can snap at him for it, Hannibal speaks softly. 

“Have you done this to yourself before? Or has anyone done this for you?” 

Will blinks, hips rocking back and forth unconsciously. 

“I t–told you, I haven’t, I–I haven’t had sex with a man,” Will manages, and then feels foolish when he realizes that wasn’t the question. “I had a prostate exam, once.”  

Hannibal holds back a laugh, pressing harder against the tight muscle underneath his balls and Will’s breath hitches as his finger almost slips in. “Please, just–” his near incoherent ramble is cut off by a sharp kiss, and Hannibal descends down his body once more. 

“You currently connect the act of penetration in this place as something clinical, and most likely uncomfortable. I’m going to help you to overcome that. This will also help you relax for the intrusion,” Hannibal explains, and Will holds back a comment about how saying it like that is only going to make this more clinical, but his middle finger is finally slipping inside of him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, shocked by the bizarre feeling of it. 

Will hadn’t really known what Hannibal had been talking about just now, but he feels a mouth on his cock and he finally understands. 

“Oh–” Will’s hips twitch up into wet heat, for a moment forgetting the finger that had slipped inside him, is still inside him, prodding away at his inner walls. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

Hannibal is adept at fellatio because of course he is. He has no problem deepthroating Will (who’s length isn’t insignificant) and his tongue does dangerous things to the head of his cock that no one he’s ever been with has done. He reaches a hand down to stroke through Hannibal’s hair. He feels a bit too wet down there, and his head won’t stop buzzing as Hannibal slips in his index finger alongside his middle. 

Will’s chest heaves and he cranes his neck back to escape the upsurge of arousal that threatens to drag him too close to the edge. “Oh fu– uh! ”  

Hannibal’s fingers brush up against his prostate and he nearly comes. He starts tugging on Hannibal’s hair, but the man won’t let up. “Hannibal, god, stop. ” 

He can’t help the moan that crawls out of his throat as he continues sucking on the head of his cock and twisting two of his fingers inside him simultaneously. Will has no idea when the penetration had become a pleasurable part of this mix, but it has all become bittersweet torture nonetheless. 

Hannibal does stop, just when he thinks he’s about to spill into his throat. He pulls off Will with a pop, and his red and straining dick plops against his stomach, sticky and desperate for release. Will squirms because Hannibal’s fingers are still inside of him, poking and prodding at his prostate from within which isn’t helping quell his erection in the slightest. 

“Fucking hell,” Will whimpers, pliant when Hannibal places his free hand on the middle of Will’s chest to keep him still. He pumps his fingers out with a little more fervor before scissoring them and stretching the walls more than Will thought possible. 

Will makes a strange noise when he removes them to squeeze some more lube on his hand. His lathers up three fingers this time, and Will distantly acknowledges it appears he’s done this many times in his life. 

Will wonders how many times Hannibal had been on the receiving end. 

Will is struck with a possessive optimism about possibly being the first one to unravel Hannibal like this one day. And he’ll actually allow him to do it. 

“Breathe, Will,” he says in a low voice, pressing two back in, then presses the tip of his ring finger alongside those. Will can feel the stretch before it starts, but before he can let out a hurt noise from the burn, Hannibal is kissing him deep and gentle, soothing as a turtle dove. The pain at that point isn’t even pain at all, it is just a warm burn that slowly subsides the longer he presses and splays his fingers inside of him. 

The angle is a bit awkward, and Hannibal doesn’t quite reach his prostate perfectly, but it’s better that way. Hannibal’s cock is going to be inside him and he’ll have more time to relish it if he’s not so worked up. 

The kissing and thrusting of three fingers slowly becomes not enough, especially when the burning sensation has completely shifted into the wet drag of fingers against his rim, and he wants something bigger. 

“How much do your balls hurt?” Will mumbles bluntly in a tease, laughing against Hannibal’s mouth when his loving gaze turns into an agitated glare. 

Hannibal pulls back to expertly press all three fingers against the bulge of Will’s prostate and that shuts up him. “Okay, okay, just, get inside me already.”

“Such delicate words,” Hannibal mutters sarcastically, but not without affection. He pulls all three fingers out, and his rim swells out, ass clenching around nothing but air. It almost hurts, the ache of loss. 

Hannibal shakily reaches for the lube, but Will catches his wrist. 

“I can, um, I can put my mouth on you,” Will suggests softly. “Instead.” 

Hannibal’s eyelashes flutter and he looks like he’s considering it, but he uncaps the lube anyway. With a placating smile, he responds, “Another day. I’m not sure I could handle myself if you were to do that now.”  

Will nods, lying back with a dreamy expression. 

He slathers some lube on his cock, and it is glistening and hard in the dim moonlight shining in from Hannibal’s bedroom window. The sheets have been somewhat kicked down in their frantic kissing and grinding, and all the things in between, but Hannibal pulls up the golden silk until it is halfway covering their bodies. 

He takes one of his pillows and carefully shoves it under Will’s hips, tilting them up so he is drawn open completely for Hannibal’s cock. He feels a bit like he’s in a porno, except in a porno a golden sheet wouldn’t be covering their lower halves. It feels good on his skin though, where it falls over Hannibal’s hips, and brushes his thighs. 

They somehow look picturesque and nowhere near obscene, as Will is used to sex being crazed and unorganized. Sweaty bodies, exposed and exploited. This is loving; this is worship. 

Will feels Hannibal’s cock bob against the sweaty crook of his thigh and he looks down at Will with curious eyes, imploring. 

Without saying a word, Will reaches between them and wraps a hand around Hannibal’s dick, gasping at the heaviness and the girth. It is so slick. Hannibal’s eyes close, and don’t open until Will draws him closer to his hole, pressing the head up against his rim. 

Hannibal watches Will’s face closely as one of his own hands travels downward to wrap around Will’s fingers, and help him push the head of his cock into his body. Will’s heaving breaths become breathy whines as every sensation in his body, except for the physicality of Hannibal’s cock entering him, disappears. Will brings up both hands to grip Hannibal’s shoulders, steadying himself. 

Hannibal braces himself on his elbows, kissing Will’s stubbly jaw as he ever so slowly rocks back and forth, sinking deeper into Will each by inch. 

It doesn’t exactly hurt, but Will feels so full that he’s grimacing and twitching with each press inside. The fact that it is Hannibal sinking into him, inside of him, sets him on fire. 

“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” Will tells him, scratching his nails over the nape of Hannibal’s neck as his jaw falls open. 

Hannibal finally bottoms out and Will lets out a gentle sigh, feeling perfectly content and without thought for the first time in his entire life. 

“Please don’t ever leave,” he adds in a whisper and Hannibal smiles against the warped skin on his right cheek. 

“You know I don’t have the power to leave you.” 

“I mean don’t ever stop fucking me, but that too I guess,” Will clarifies with a grin. Hannibal’s eyes go bug-wide for a moment, brows raised, at the language, then his usual veil of tenacity returns and he rocks forward. 

Will chokes on a moan, so Hannibal does it again. He isn’t pulling out and pushing in quite yet, just rocking against him, keeping pressure on his prostate so he goes mad. 

“Oh Hannibal, that feels–” Will groans and tightens his thighs around Hannibal’s waist, hooking his ankles there so they don’t slip off. The sheet miraculously is still covering them. “ Don’t stop. ” 

Hannibal doesn’t stop, but he changes it up. He draws his hips back, pushing back inside of Will with a tortuously slow slide. He repeats it and with each push he brushes up against Will’s prostate making him sweat, and writhe, and moan helplessly as he picks up the pace.

It isn’t hard sex, or all that fast, but the rhythm works Will up to the brink in no time, and every push inside feel like he’s going to topple over that edge, but he doesn’t. 

“Will,” Hannibal mumbles obsessively, and sucks at his lips, his tongue when he can reach it. Will accepts the kisses graciously, nipping at the plump skin of his mouth, moaning when Hannibal nearly pulls out completely, rocking the head of his cock back against his rim before shoving inside in one sharp movement. 

“Fuck!” Will shouts, scratching at Hannibal’s back. 

They undulate together as the pressure builds, and Will needs to come, so badly it feels like an affliction, but he doesn’t want the sex to stop. He wants to stay this way forever, with Hannibal making a place for himself inside of Will’s body, his hair falling out of his place as he uses Will for his pleasure. Will kisses his jaw where it hangs slack, and he pants into his mouth when he picks up the pace, short thrusts back and forth until Hannibal groans, into the crook of his neck, close to completion. 

It is immensely satisfying to know that he is the cause of Hannibal groaning like that. He wants to hear more of those noises, and he desperately wants to make him come. He’s never had that urge before. Sex has always been about himself. Not that he’d been a selfish lover, but internally, he was always focused on his own orgasm. Now, he could care less how tight his balls are drawn, or how painful his cock is, sticky and bouncing between their abdomens with every push. 

Will swears he sees dark constellations on the ceiling, Perseus and Andromeda.

He clenches around Hannibal’s cock purposefully. 

“Oh god,” the moan becomes a whine when Hannibal’s hands grip hard at his hips, nails digging into the supple swell of flesh just above his ass. “Harder.” 

Hannibal grunts, and his thighs slap against the back of Will’s as he works to accommodate his request. Will throws his head back, meeting Hannibal on every thrust, squeezing his legs around Hannibal’s hips as if he’ll disappear if he doesn’t continue latching on. 

“Will, you feel–” It is rare Hannibal can’t finish a sentence, but he slows down with the thrusting as if he’d just been close to the edge and wants to stave off his orgasm. Will can empathize. 

He rubs Hannibal’s back as they both slow their movements for a moment, relishing in the searing wet heat instead of the rush of sensation. 

“Good?” Will finishes, optimistic. Hannibal nods above him, sweat sparkling at his hairline. Will wants to taste it. He kisses him instead, and Hannibal slips his tongue in as starts to thrust hard and fast again, pummeling back toward the finish line. 

“Come inside me, Hannibal,” he encourages, tightening his muscles around his cock again. “I wanna feel it.” 

Hannibal makes a beautiful noise into his neck, somewhere between a whine and a high-pitched moan, and Will can feel teeth baring against his skin. 

Before Will can even start to touch himself, Hannibal reaches a hand between them and circles it around Will’s dick, untouched since he had entered him, and starts to jerk him roughly, in short circles around the head. Will groans, trying to keep his focus but finding it very hard. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Will warns with a tremor in his voice, arching up against his body as Hannibal picks up the pace with his hand and hips, fingers stroking against his shaft with a devil’s touch. “Oh fuck,” he moans loudly, feeling his pleasure crest and peak. “ Fuck, Hannibal!” 

Will clamps down hard on Hannibal’s cock as he comes in heavy spurts against his stomach. A string of moans fall from his lips as he’s continuously thrust into, prolonging the orgasm wracking his body with shaky pleasure and white hot fire. His hole flutters around Hannibal’s cock, drawing his spend out of him abruptly. 

Hannibal grunts and bites lightly at Will’s throat as he spills inside of him, twitching against his hips when a word that sounds like ‘ Cazzo’ slips from his lips, under his breath. 

They slump together, breathing heavily in the sweaty space they’ve created for themselves on the bed. Everything feels damp and warm and tingly with residual pleasure and Will grins because of it.

“Was that Italian?” he asks, grin widening. 

Hannibal blinks, shifting up on his hands to loom over him. “I suppose it was,” he admits, as if he had no idea he’d just sworn in a different language. He pulls back even further to allow his softening cock to slip out of Will’s body. Will hisses, feeling his hole throb and clench around empty space. 

Hannibal’s fingers come up to trace the rim of it, one dipping inside and making a wet noise as it does. Will squirms with overstimulation, breathily attempting to push Hannibal’s arm away, but the effort is in vain. Without another word, Hannibal dips down to lap up Will’s come, currently drying on his stomach.

Will watches him reverently, until it is all gone and his stomach is spit-slick and tacky from Hannibal’s efforts. 

Will takes a deep breath and reaches down to brush his fingers through the semen spilling out of his hole, trailing down his thighs. He lifts it to his lips, kitten licks the taste off the tips of his fingers and doesn’t have time to comment before Hannibal’s lips are crashing into his, chasing the taste of himself off of Will’s tongue. 

Hannibal makes him hot chocolate after they’ve cleaned up and taken separate showers. He joins Will on the couch in the living room, beside the dying flame. 

Will’s throat is a bit sore from all the moaning and shouting, and the chocolate feels thick and creamy on the way down, soothing it delicately. 

“How are you faring?” Hannibal questions, stroking a caring hand over Will’s thigh. They are dressed in sweaters and sweatpants, horrible combinations, but domestic to a point that makes Will light-headed. 

“Good,” he tells him. “Ass is a bit sore though.” 

“It will pass soon,” Hannibal tells him sympathetically. 

“I don’t mind,” Will clarifies, preventing the concern from etching too deeply in his expression. “I like it. It reminds me.” 

Hannibal’s responding smile is close to bashful as he sips his own cocoa, still pink in the cheeks from the turn of events the night had taken. 

“Here’s to a near decade of sexual tension resolved.” Will holds out his cup to Hannibal’s and Hannibal dinks them together once with a grin slowly forming. 

“Did it take us that long?” he muses. 

Will shuffles closer, tucking his forehead against the heated skin of Hannibal’s neck, holding his cocoa close to his beating heart when he whispers, “As long as we’re here, I don’t care.”