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Will Graham stood limply over the body, lungs spasming in exertion. His eyes raked over the mangled corpse, the blood still black and warm in the moonlight.
His design.
He didn’t know the man, but the shotgun he had fruitlessly fired told Will he was a hunter. ‘How ironic,’ Will thought as he sunk to his knees and tore the man apart from gut to sternum, ‘That I am skinning you like your deer.’
His breath evened as he pulled out the man's lower intestine, letting it unravel onto the dirt road he kneeled upon.
A deer.
Will began to gut the man entirely, each organ removed with nothing more than blood-soaked leather gloves and a hunting knife. His hunting knife. It glinted in the effulgence of the moon, smiling wickedly at the victim before it.
The organs were discarded haphazardly around him as he worked, uncaring of respecting the animal. Pieces of muscle and intestine flew and stuck onto his face with each removal, the stench of copper hanging thick in the air.
His victim sat hollow in a halo of its own organs.
And it was exquisite.
Will licked the blood off his teeth, a smile splitting his face, and stood, allowing the image to wash over him. He bathed in the utter horror of what he had done and thrived off it.
Committing this particular design to memory, Will leisurely made his way back to his truck. It was a beater, an old 1988 Chevy that stalled minutely longer every time you attempted to turn it over. Rust coated most of the undercarriage; the red paint was dull and chipping away.
Hannibal hated it, which made Will love it even more.
He thankfully did not have to walk far, his prey only half a mile from where he had parked. Will paused as his glove touched the handle, blood smearing over faded chrome. A sigh blew past his lips as he began to strip off his clothes, throwing them into the hole-ridden bed of the truck.
Blood did not wash out of leather upholstery easily. He knew this because Hannibal had spent two days dedicated to cleaning his, their, car; ranting and raving about blood stains and Will’s lack of decorum.
The man would probably complain about washing the blood out of the back, but he was never pleased with anything about the car anyway. Or at least, that’s what Will reasoned as he slipped into the truck wearing nothing but his briefs and a still lingering smile.
The engine stuttered to life, another millisecond added to the turn-over time, and the tires slowly crunched over the gravel as Will shifted gears and made his way home.
He switched on the radio, flipping from station to station every few minutes. He would never confirm or deny the fact he lingered on the classical station for several miles.
-
Hannibal hummed, moving through their kitchen with practiced ease and grace. The smell of the evening's dinner still clung to each polished surface; a simple roasted salmon that Will had caught for him.
Will.
The man smiled and continued to clean up after himself, dishes stacked away in wooden cabinets and knives stored in their block.
Even after all this time, he still could not believe that Will was here with him. Every smile, laugh, after-shave bottle, fishing lure, mud print, ashed cigarette, and stolen kiss.
His life was irrevocably Will’s.
The same nameless song sounded in his chest as he heard the tell-tale crunch of gravel, the dreadful sputtering of the engine as it died out. Hannibal had tried to convince Will to sell it on several occasions, for any car would be better than the one he had chosen. Will simply refused with a sharp smile and poorly concealed laughter.
He made his way to their living room and sat in one of the lounge chairs, a random book in hand, schooling his face into feigned nonchalance.
A jingle of keys, a turn of a lock, and there he was. In his home once more.
And he was absolutely radiant.
Goosebumps covered Will’s exposed body, forever unused to the Canadian temperatures. He strode in, blood still matted in his hair and eyelashes. Hannibal inhaled the copper musk, a small smile coming to rest upon his face as Will walked over to his seat near the fireplace.
“What are you reading?” His partner asked mundanely as if he was oblivious to the gore that painted his face, leaning down to hover above Hannibal.
“Nothing important,” Hannibal breathed, face tilting upwards to meet the man’s darkened gaze. Oh, how he wished to dive into the endless pools of his pupils, swim in the emotion they so tightly held. Sink into his skin until they became one, flesh melding and minds blurring.
Oh, how he loved Will.
Will hummed, moving even closer to Hannibal’s slightly parted lips.
“I’m sure Ovid would be devastated to hear you say so,” Graham placed his hand on the cover of Metamorphoses, pushing it out of Hannibal’s loose grasp and onto the floor.
“Ovid has not seen the magnum opus that is your beauty.” The older man’s gaze shifted to Will’s mouth, before looking back into the ice-blue depths of his love.
A smile etched onto Will’s face, his cheeks burning slightly at the laudation.
“And what a shame that would be,” Will ghosted a kiss over Hannibal’s lips, “To not see my beauty, that is.”
“A shame indeed,” Hannibal murmured, breathless, before leaning up to capture Will’s essence. The man above him deepened the kiss readily, heat now radiating off his lean figure.
A pleased sigh sounded from Graham as he pulled slightly back, a hand coming to brush against the light stubble on Hannibal’s jaw.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” with a slip of his hand off his face, he disappeared into the darkened hallway of their home.
‘Always the tease,' Hannibal chuckled lightly, sinking back into the lounge chair once more.
He waited until he heard the faint sound of water hitting tile, slinking to the door of the bathroom and opening it slowly. The door cursedly creaked, despite Hannibal’s tireless efforts of trying to fix it in the past.
Shedding his clothes quickly and efficiently, barely giving himself time to fold them and set them on the counter somewhat nicely, Hannibal opened the shower door and stepped in.
He slid in behind Will, winding his arms around his midsection; sighing both from the hot water and the skin-to-skin contact.
“D’you need something, Hannibal?” The brown-haired man rumbled, the water running down him pink with blood.
“Yes.” Hannibal’s face pressed into his neck, lips pressing light kisses into heat-flushed skin. “I need you.”
“I’m covered in blood if you haven’t noticed,” Though, despite his biting tone, Will leaned into Hannibal’s touch.
“Oh, I noticed, my love.” His half-hard dick pressed against the curve of the shorter man’s ass, fingers tracing shapeless patterns against Will’s flesh.
A pleased hum resonated out of Graham, his head leaning back into the crook of Hannibal’s neck. “‘S there something you’d like to do about that?”
“So many things, mylimasis,” Hands began to wander down Will’s v-line, “How was your hunt?”
“Mm, he tried to shoot me,” The man sighed deeply as a calloused hand wrapped around the base of his dick, “He tripped and shot—ah—a tree.”
“Poor tree.” Hannibal’s arousal thickened accent murmured, his hand sliding up and down Will’s shaft.
“‘S buckshot, could’ve killed me.” The previous indifference in Will’s tone dissipated with each lazy stroke, a slight southern drawl creeping into his voice.
“I doubt anything so mundane as a bullet could kill you, my dear Will.” He thumbed the slit of Will’s dick, causing him to inhale sharply. “You have survived much worse, have you not?”
Graham only nodded slightly, lips parted and panting heavily. Hannibal kissed the now, mostly clean, wet curls that framed his face; grinding his length slowly against Will.
“Perhaps we should move this to the bedroom, no?” The question was heavy with implication, sending embers of pleasure down Will’s spine.
“Jesus—please.” And with that simple request, the cascading water was cut short, Hannibal quickly ushering him down the hall and into their shared bedroom.
Both of them were still dripping wet, however, Hannibal seemed to only care about getting Will onto the silk sheets. Hannibal pressed Will onto the bed, settling over him to press deep kisses wherever he could.
The man keened softly, melting deeper into the mattress with each press of his lover's mouth. Will wound his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, guiding him up towards his face.
Hannibal stared into his eyes for a brief second, completely enraptured with the man underneath him. “What a blessed sight you make, my love,” He praised unabashedly, kissing the corner of Will’s mouth.
“‘M very boring darlin’,” Will muttered, “I also still got blood on me.”
“Your beauty is unmatched, I could spend an eternity looking upon your figure.” Hannibal shifted to rest on his forearms, his left hand coming to card through Will’s wet hair. He pulled the digits back, each one stained slightly pink with blood, and licked them clean.
Will groaned at the obscene gesture, dick twitching at the sight of Hannibal’s tongue flicking between his fingers. His fingers curled into the ashen-blond hair of Hannibal and pulled him towards his mouth, tasting the copper on his lips.
The man deepened the kiss, teeth nipping at Will’s lower lip. He pulled back to whisper into his ear, “Do you like that? Tasting your prey on my tongue?”
“Oh—fuck,” Will writhed underneath Hannibal, desperate for any amount of friction on his weeping cock.
Hannibal only hummed at his response, reaching blindly for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. He watched as Will’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the bottle opening, pupils dilating as he slicked up three of his fingers.
He sat up on his knees, spreading apart Will’s tense legs with gentle and skilled ease. He slowly teased around his entrance, finger slipping just barely in and out.
“Hannibal, please—just—please,” Graham whimpered and squirmed underneath his barely there caresses, a nervous flush beginning to rise on his skin.
The older man complied, probing deeper into Will with his index finger. The action caused Will to both sigh in relief, but also tense around the intrusion.
“Shh, relax mylimasis,” Lecter soothed, using his free hand to stroke comfortingly up and down Will’s leg, “pailsėti.”
“You know I—ngh—don’t speak Lithuanian.” Will gasped out, groaning at the sensation of Hannibal’s finger flexing inside of him.
“And yet you understand it all the same,” The man hovering above him argued, slipping in a second finger, causing Will to moan wantonly, “Taip? ”
“Yes.” Will hissed out between clenched teeth, pushing back against Hannibal’s incessant fingering.
Hannibal gave him a small smile, kissing the inside of Will’s thigh before adding a third finger. Will’s eyes fluttered shut at the deep stretch, his back arching slightly off of the silk sheets clinging to his drying skin.
“Like Achilles, you fall under the slightest pressure.” Hannibal teased lightly, pulling out his fingers with a final flex; savoring the sight of Will’s hole fluttering around his absence.
“D’you take pride in being my Achilles heel, Hannibal?” Will’s dilated gaze was accusatory but no heat was held behind his words.
“It would be foolish of me not to, my dearest Will.” The man responded simply, lining his now fully-erect cock up with Will’s loosened entrance.
The retort was caught in Graham’s throat as Hannibal eased his way in slowly, the man watching closely for any sign of discomfort in his partner.
Will’s hands fisted into the sheets, a high whine escaping through his lips as Hannibal buried himself to the hilt.
His breath was shallow, lips parted, legs spread, hair disheveled, eyes struggling to focus. Utterly disheveled, and utterly his.
Hannibal committed the sight to memory, another abstract part of his mind palace constructing with each gentle rise of Will’s chest.
A rough, life-worn hand rose and tugged at the hand that Hannibal was using to prop up Will’s right leg. Hannibal took the request in stride, leaning down to embrace Will as he slowly rocked in and out of him.
Legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he moved, contented moans and shudders slipping out of Will’s body and seeping into his own.
Lecter buried his nose in the crook of Will’s neck, allowing himself to smell the copper arousal that surrounded the man. And Will let him, baring his neck in complete trust and acceptance.
They continued to rut lazily into each other, each gentle thrust of Hannibal’s hips was met with Will pressing back against him. The Louisianan man had lost his voice, content to sit in silence and bask in the praise of Hannibal’s hips.
Hannibal pressed a kiss into Will’s jaw, moving to murmur against his ear. “Come for me, just like this, mano monstras.”
Will shuddered at the name, his monster, spine arching and sparks flying behind lust-filled eyes.
He spilled against Hannibal’s form, ropes of cum coating both of their abdomens, a choked moan escaping his parted lips. His vision whited out and he was left floating in a sea of darkness, warm waves falling around him.
Hannibal shallowly thrusted twice more before coming into the tight heat of Will, his chest heaved as he pulled out and slumped against the limp form of his lover, face pressing into dark curls.
What felt like hours of bliss must have only been a few minutes before Will spoke.
“...I got some blood on the driver's seat.”
Hannibal just sighed deeply, nuzzling deeper into the after-shave musk of Will Graham.
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”