Chapter Text
They are married in Bath on a beautiful morning in April, drifts of pink cherry blossom dappling the sunshine, mingling with the showers of rice thrown over the departing couple. Their Lordships, in turn, toss gleaming copper coins from the Lecter family carriage, which had been driven down by Franklyn the previous week in order to carry them home in comfort and privacy.
It has been a fine turnout: in attendance are the Vergers and their parents; Lord Huntingdon and his sister Lady Cassandra; the Lords Price; Peter Bernard (who assures Will with a grin that he is only a very little heartbroken) and his parents; and a not inconsiderable number of fellow peers and Members of Parliament. Anthony Grantham, too, has made the trip south for the occasion, and Will is more than ever glad of his brother’s recent move to Derbyshire when the time comes for him to part with his parents. He bids them farewell with a tearful promise to bring his husband back to Bath for Christmas, and Hannibal issues them with an open invitation to visit Lecter House as often as they please.
Tolerable weather and good roads deliver the newlyweds to Derbyshire within two and a half days, and Will awakens on their first morning back to a series of languid kisses down his neck and a murmured, ‘Good morning, my beautiful husband.’
Will snares the hand which rests on his hip and raises it to his lips, brushing a kiss over the plain gold wedding band that matches his own. And another over the engagement ring which they had chosen together in Bath - a garnet within a circle of onyx, a tender wink to their unusual beginning.
‘Mm.’ Rolling over, he presses close to his husband and grins. ‘It certainly is a good morning. Is there anything that I can do to make it better still?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact…’ Hannibal’s free hand bunches up the hem of Will’s nightshirt to curl around his thickening length. ‘We do need to consummate this marriage, after all.’
‘Oh? And what was it that we were doing last night? And the night before that?’ asks Will, slipping his thigh over Hannibal’s and rocking into that teasing, stroking hand.
‘Coaching inns do not count,’ sniffs Hannibal. ‘Besides, it was impossible to truly relax on either occasion.’
‘Only because you were so very prudish about the thinness of the walls.’ Will squirms pleasurably beneath Hannibal’s sure touch. ‘I would not have minded if we had been overheard.’
‘Of course you would not, you little wretch,’ growls Hannibal, nipping at Will’s lower lip. ‘Even for the sake of a mere two days’ wait.’
‘It has been near a month since we have had proper privacy,’ points out Will, his own hands now busy tugging up Hannibal’s nightshirt. ‘Whoever knew that getting married would involve so much chaperoning?’
‘Well, as I intend that for the next week we shall leave this bed only to eat, we have ample opportunity to make up for the whole tiresome business. And now, if you please,’ as pushing Will onto his back and straddling him, Hannibal lowers himself onto Will’s cock with a pleased groan, ‘fuck me, darling.’
Evidently, Hannibal had worked himself open while Will slept; and welcomed into the hot clutch of his lover’s body, Will gasps words of adoration against lips parted in ecstasy. He grasps Hannibal’s hips and fucks up in shallow passes to draw his lover to taut pleasure, rocking gradually deeper and harder, bringing himself to the brink of his own climax.
‘Come with me,’ he pants, hips jerking in erratic thrusts as he finishes with a hot spill.
And as Hannibal arches with a shout, pearly spend spurting sticky, Will clings to him and tells him again and again how much he loves him.
***
One leisurely bath later, they descend to the Painted Hall and a warm greeting from Chilton.
‘Breakfast is ready, my lords.’
‘I did not realise that Chilton could smile so widely,’ whispers Will as they follow the butler through to the Oak Room, where buttery light spills through the windows. ‘I swear, when first I arrived, he thought me nothing but a menace!’
‘Darling, you were a menace. However,’ at Will’s pout, ‘you were a very charming menace, which makes all the difference.’
***
After Hannibal’s seductive promise to keep him abed for days, Will is fully expecting to be dragged back upstairs once the breakfast things are cleared. Instead, a walk outside is proposed. And since there are ample opportunities for privacy in the gardens, Will readily agrees.
They stroll through the Sculpture Gallery, in the centre of which stands a new plinth, and Will eyes it with interest.
‘Is this for your rutting stags?’
‘Not exactly.’ Hannibal grins. ‘Those are to be life-sized. No, this is for a new enterprise, which shall begin in approximately a fortnight’s time when Signor Canova arrives to take the preliminary sketches.’ The next moment, Will’s face is cupped and tilted for tender appraisal. ‘You shall make a subject so glorious as to rival his Endymion.’
‘I?’ exclaims Will. And, in alarm, ‘I hope that you do not entertain ideas of a nude study.’
‘My, how prim you have grown,’ laughs Hannibal. ‘But you need not fear, my darling. That is a sight which I would much prefer to reserve for my sole pleasure. No, it shall be a bust, my wedding gift to you.’
‘A bust of myself?’ Will wrinkles his nose. ‘I would rather it were of you.’
‘Well, I admit that it is also something of a gift to myself; therefore it is not your only present. Come with me.’
And on this mysterious note, Hannibal leads Will through into the orangery. There they find Randall guarding a large wicker chest, the lid of which is being pushed up by something snuffling and whining inside. It sounds, to Will’s ears, suspiciously like…
‘A puppy?’ Throwing decorum to the wind, he runs across the room and drops to his knees before the chest. ‘You got me a puppy?’
As if sensing that the time is right for escape, the animal begins scrabbling madly, and Will has barely lifted the lid an inch before it is thrust wide open by sizeable paws and a shining snout. Moments later, he is bowled over by a bundle of energy, the puppy’s coat a smooth grey, its eyes beseeching blue.
‘I did, to poor Chilton’s dismay. It is a boy, almost nine weeks of age.’ Smiling, Hannibal perches on the adjacent bench. ‘Do you like him?’
‘He is beautiful.’ Will laughs as the puppy sniffs around him and seizes the tail of his coat between sharp little teeth, tugging insistently. ‘I think that he is in need of some tiring out, however, otherwise I fear for your exquisite furnishings.’
‘Our furnishings,’ comes the soft reminder. ‘And as I think that you are right, I suggest that we put him into Franklyn’s hands for a time. He will train him up admirably.’
‘As long as we can have him back with us in the evenings.’ Will scratches behind the puppy’s ears. ‘I presume he has come from Boarham Hall.’
‘Indeed. I was allowed the pick of Clementine’s litter. And the Vergers would not accept a penny for him.’
‘Then we must be sure to invite them to dinner next week as a thank you.’
After a half hour more of play, the puppy flops at Hannibal’s feet and proceeds to fall into a contented doze. Randall scoops him up and takes his leave, allowing Will and Hannibal to commence their walk.
‘What would you like to name him?’ asks Hannibal, arm firm around Will’s waist as they set off across the lawn.
‘Hm. What think you of Winston?’
‘Very smart. You have excellent taste in names.’
‘How agreeable you are being.’ Will grins up at his handsome husband. ‘You do not need to court me now, you know. You have me, signed and sealed.’
‘The second and final contract between us.’ Hannibal tugs him to a stop and frames his face with gentle hands. ‘But I shall never stop courting you, Will Lecter-Grantham. For if I did, you might think me to be taking you for granted. And then my little ladybird might fly away.’
‘Ladybirds fly away home, and I am home already,’ Will reminds him with a soft smile.
He pulls Hannibal into a kiss. And then no more words are needed. They are both home. They are each other’s home.
