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Insanity, doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result, but what Will is doing doesn’t fit that definition. He’s not doing it expecting change, hell, he has no expectations at all. Hannibal has been doing this for a few months now and shows no signs of stopping.
Neither does Will.
His hands curl in the abdominal cavity, ripping away the first thing it wraps around. The person wails under him, cries echoing out of the basement and to the kitchen. Hannibal pauses, turning the pot on the stove down and pulling the soup spoon from it, setting it aside with a soft clank before he follows the sounds of soft shrieks and grunts. He turns on the basement light with a single flip of the switch, eyes softening when he sees Will bent over a corpse, covered head to toe in a beautiful ruby red that really brings out those feverish blue eyes.
“Dinner is almost done,” he says with a small smile that makes Will’s scowl deepen, “Should I expect you at the table when this tantrum is over?”
His response is a growl of sorts, his attention back on the spasming body under him. Deeper, he breaks through bone and thick tendons until he finds what he’s been pulling for. A heart, still beating but weakly, is crushed in his grip as he turns and tosses it at Hannibal with trembling fingers.
“I see dinner will have a delay.”
He takes a step closer with feigned caution, letting his shadow loom over Will but the brunette pays him no mind. He’s busy being wrathful, pulling veins from muscle and grumbling something Hannibal can’t decode. Perhaps he’s complaining, yes, that must be it. How he hates to see Will unhappy but adores the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s enraged. He crouches next to him, reaching out to pet his head but Will jerks away. Nonverbal, he glares at him and groans his gibberish response. His heart races as Will finally prowls closer, the man looking him over as if something is out of place. Slowly, Hannibal stretches out his hand again, hoping Will would hold it.
Instead he pounces, pining Hannibal to the ground by his neck.
“You let them touch you.”
“Will-”
“You let them talk to you.” His grip tightens, blue eyes shifting into a graphite gray. “Should I take out their tongue or yours.”
“My tongue pleasures you daily-”
“Yet you still waste it in casual conversation!” He’s usually not one to shout but what a lovely tone he has when he does, “I can’t stand it!”
“So you end it? Just how many people do you intend to kill, Will?” His pulse is echoing in his ears, cock straining in his pants as Will sits on top of him. He does his best not to smile, “Will you kill everyone I come into contact with?”
“ Nngh - No, I’ll just keep you here with me .” Will grinds against him, frustration changing forms in his mind as Hannibal lifts his hips. “No one else can have you, Hannibal.”
“No one else will.”
Their kiss isn’t soft, jagged from Will nipping whatever he can and shoving his tongue wherever he pleases. Hannibal groans under him, letting the brunette do as he pleases if it means he’ll stop this nonsense. Blood smears down his apron, staining it deeply before Will rips the cloth away and ravages Hannibal’s chest with his mouth. He cradles his head with his hand as Will’s mouth moves lower, stopping him before he pulls Hannibal’s pants down.
“Wait until after dinner,” The groan Will lets out makes him chuckle.
They eat dinner in silence, Will refusing to wash the blood from his hands and only swallowing what Hannibal puts into his mouth, spoonfuls of thick stew that make him hum. He usually puts up more of a fight when Hannibal tries to tend to him but tonight it seems he becomes irritable whenever Hannibal does so much as look away. How adorable, his pretty lips sticking to the spoon before it’s pulled away as if he wants to keep it all for himself. Hannibal wipes his mouth and carries him upstairs to bathe, the two sitting in the tub and Will spending their time together brooding no matter how Hannibal tries to cheer him up.
“You do know they mean nothing to me-”
“Then why do you keep going to them?” He speaks through gritted teeth, refusing to look Hannibal’s way. “You claim I satisfy you yet every time I turn my back I turn around to your eyes lingering on another, Dr. Lecter ”
Formalities because he’s frustrated, how irritating.
“It’s hard to hunt in unfamiliar territory, Will.” Hannibal kisses the nape of his neck, smiling when the porcelain skin flushes a pig-pink. “I only want you eating the best meat and when I leave you to pick our produce you often choose meat that’s already rotten.”
“Oh, so you don’t trust my tastes now.” He storms out of the bathroom dripping wet and fuming, stomping straight into their bedroom and slamming the door. He still seems to have a flair for theatrics.
Hannibal will have to fix that.
“Will, open the door,” his voice starts off as a kind coo before it turns commanding, “Now.”
Silence.
He waits, counting along with the clicking clock in the hall.
One.
Two.
Three.
He hears footsteps padding around.
Four.
They stop.
Five.
The door is still shut.
He breaks it open with a huff, the knob snapped and falling when he releases it. Will is sitting on the bed with his back turned, arms crossed over his chest and not even pretending to give a damn that Hannibal was pulling him into his embrace. He squirms but he’s pinned down, Hannibal leaning over him with sharp eyes as Will attempts to crawl away.
“This immaturity is unlike you, Mr. Lecter .” Hannibal’s voice has dropped and with it, Will’s will to resist. All it takes is that damn nickname he had started using after their fall, the one he always purrs out so prettily. Hannibal’s lips trail up to his jaw, lingering before he bites down without warning. “Perhaps I have neglected you lately, let me make up for the lack of training.”
Training? He’s not a dog! He doesn’t obey orders- okay, maybe he does, but how is he supposed to tell Hannibal no when he’s already being positioned. His back arches on its own, hands curling in the blanket as he curses under his breath. No wonder Hannibal doesn’t take him seriously, he submits too easily! God, he’ll have to lecture himself for it later, right now Hannibal is kissing all over him and all he can do is arch into his touch. Roughly, he’s tugged onto the man’s lap, forcefully turned around before he’s pinned back down.
“Hannibal-”
“I thought it was Dr. Lecter now.” They share an eskimo kiss, one that ends as Hannibal drags his nose to Will’s neck. His arousal reeks of desperation, reminding him that it has been a while since they were intimate. Will has always been a needy man, quick to throw a fit when he was left unattended. Now was no different, well, besides the fact that Hannibal had let him get this defiant. “Spread for me.”
“I won’t-”
“Very well, I’ll do it for you.” He holds one of Will’s legs back, pressing the head of his cock in without bothering to prepare him. He’s never minded the pain before, and right now it’s what he needed to remember his place. Hannibal leans down to kiss him but he jerks his head away, “ Will .”
“I won’t listen to a man who shares his voice with others.” Will hides his face in the pillow only for it to be flung away. “I won’t!”
“Then what will you do, hm ?” Hannibal’s voice is a sultry whisper in his ear, “Take what I give you with grace or I’ll have to leave you to count the bricks lining the basement.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
And that was how he ended up with his hands tied above his head as he hangs from a hook, gagged as punishment for his smart mouth. There’s red lines on his thighs from soft whips of a towel Hannibal repurposed as a whip and bitemarks on his chest, one around each nipple from Hannibal’s taunting. Cruel, he’s stroking him so slowly he’s barely moving his hand at all! Will tries thrusting his hips forward but then Hannibal moves away, casually turning his back to him.
“You’ve been misbehaving lately, I find myself too frustrated to handle you right now so you’re going to spend some time down here.” Hannibal starts to head upstairs, “You obviously need some time to think.”
And that he does, but mostly about the wrong things.
He thinks of Hannibal’s lips around him, tasting him, teasing him with that silver tongue he lies with so easily. It would trace his tip before he took Will into his mouth, then it would curl against his shaft as the blonde bobbed his head. Will would try to muffle his moan at first like he always did but then he’d give up and let himself cry out, let himself be consumed by the heat around him. He’d thrust his hips forward until Hannibal stopped bobbing and just savor the feeling of his throat, memorizing every ridge and plush muscle before they clenched around him. They’d make eye contact and Will wouldn’t be able to hold back the ecstasy banging on the door of his mind, it’d burst open, he’d crash and-
Shit.
He just came.
Hannibal is going to punish him for the mess.