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Will takes a shaky breath, the aftermath of encephalitis casting a haze over his thoughts and clouding his ability to concentrate. As he blinks rapidly, his vision sharpens, revealing Hannibal's dark brown patient's entrance looming before him. The door's weathered surface is a stark contrast to the tumult within his mind. He pauses, a profound sense of disorientation washing over him as he struggles to piece together how he arrived at Hannibal's workplace.
Will raises a trembling hand to wipe away a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, the dampness a reminder of both the heat surrounding him and the internal turmoil he’s grappling with. His palms are clammy, betraying his anxiety as he fights to regain a sense of clarity amid the confusion engulfing him.
Will cautiously raises a hesitant fist to the door, his knuckles barely tapping against the polished wood. Half a minute ticks by, stretching into what feels like an eternity, before the door swings open. On the other side stands a familiar figure clad in a dark maroon suit that accentuates his sharp features and intense gaze.
"Hannibal..." Will mutters, barely a whisper as the weight of the world seems to press down upon him. He feels his body give way, slumping against the doorframe, unable to muster the strength to stand.
Hannibal's expression transforms from curiosity to deep concern in an instant. With surprising gentleness, he scoops Will up into his arms, cradling him carefully as if he were handling something fragile. “Will, you’re dissociating. Can you hear me?” Hannibal's voice is steady and distinct, cutting through the hazy fog that envelops Will's mind.
In response, Will emits a faint whimper, a soft sound of acknowledgment that barely escapes his lips. As Hannibal's hand presses against Will's forehead, he feels the heat radiating off him—a telltale sign of a dangerous fever.
“Will, I’m going to help you inside. Just lean on me,” Hannibal murmurs, his accent thick and soothing as he deftly slings Will’s arm over his shoulders, grounding him. The warmth of Hannibal’s presence anchors Will, pulling him back from the edge of the disorienting void he’s been lost in.
About ten minutes later, Will gradually becomes aware of the gentle sensation of Hannibal’s thumb tracing soft, swirling patterns across the palm of his hand. A cool, damp rag is pressed lightly against his forehead, providing a soothing relief. As Will's eyelids flutter open, the world around him begins to materialize more clearly. His gaze locks onto Hannibal’s, and he blinks, momentarily disoriented.
Hannibal remains quiet, his presence calm and steady as he continues to caress Will's skin with slow, deliberate movements until it seems the boy has fully returned to consciousness. After what feels like an eternity, Will speaks, his voice scarcely rising above a whisper. “What just happened to me...?”
“Hmm,” Hannibal responds softly, his tone almost melodic, “I suspect you experienced a mild seizure, possibly exacerbated by your current state of mind.”
“Oh,” Will replies, a faint furrowing of his brow revealing his confusion. He blinks again as if trying to process the information.
With a gentle smile that exudes warmth and comfort, Hannibal rises to his feet. “Would you like a warm cup of tea, or perhaps some hot chocolate?” he suggests, his voice imbued with genuine care.
The mere mention of hot chocolate sparks something childlike within Will, igniting a flicker of excitement that momentarily eases his concern. “Hot cocoa, please...” he murmurs, his finger tapping rhythmically against his leg in anticipation.
Hannibal’s smile broadens reassuringly. “Of course, I’ll be right back,” he assures, before turning to disappear down the dimly lit corridor.
Will’s eyes wander to the Roman numeral clock mounted on the wall. As he studied its intricate design, a surge of realization washed over him; he had arrived almost at 8:30, likely just moments after Hannibal had finished his dinner. The thought weighs on him, mingling with his lingering confusion about what had just transpired.
Soon enough, Hannibal's shadow, tall and poised, drifted back into the softly lit room, cradling two steaming mugs in his hands. The rich aroma of hot chocolate filled the air, warm and inviting. He approached Will with a faint, enigmatic smile and handed him one of the mugs. As Will inspected the contents, he noticed a delightful twist—his hot chocolate was adorned with fluffy marshmallows, their white surfaces glistening like little clouds against the dark liquid.
As small and seemingly insignificant as this gesture might appear, it sparked a profound sense of warmth within Will. A wave of childlike joy washed over him, reminding him of simpler times when such treats were small treasures. He couldn’t help but smile up at Hannibal, his expression radiating gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but genuine.
Hannibal observed Will, intrigued by the boy's reaction. The rare sight of Will’s smile held an almost magical quality; it warmed Hannibal's heart while stirring within him a complex mixture of emotions—uneasy, yet undeniable adoration that crept into his chest like an old, familiar friend.
“You’re welcome, Will,” Hannibal replied, his voice smooth and inviting. He took a careful sip of his hot chocolate, feeling the rich flavor swirl around on his palate, before redirecting his gaze to Will. He watched intently as Will pressed his pursed lips to the rim of the mug, savoring the sweetness, his eyes momentarily sparkling with joy against the backdrop of the dimly lit room. The scene was simple yet filled with an unspoken connection that lingered in the air between them.
After a few more contemplative sips of his drink, Hannibal leans back slightly in his chair, his voice cutting through the quiet of the room with its signature raspy tone. “It’s quite late; have you eaten dinner?” he inquires, his gaze piercing but warm, a subtle hint of concern dancing in his eyes.
Will feels a tightness in his jaw as Hannibal’s question hangs in the air. The truth weighs heavily on him; he can’t quite bring himself to *lie*, yet the thought of worrying Hannibal adds another layer of complexity to his feelings. Caught in this mental tug-of-war, he wrestles with his emotions, his mind racing through unvoiced explanations. Finally, he opts for silence, shaking his head slowly, a gesture that speaks volumes about his internal struggle while trying to mask his turmoil from the man across from him.
Hannibal's lips curled into a sly, knowing smile, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come now,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “I’ve prepared a delightful array of salads for you to choose from.” He set his mug down on the polished wooden table with a soft clink, the rich aroma of hot chocolate lingering in the air. Standing gracefully, he gestured toward the kitchen, the fabric of his tailored suit shifting subtly with the movement. Will, intrigued by the offer, followed suit, rising from his seat with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As he trailed behind Hannibal, he could already imagine the colorful selection awaiting him, each dish promising a unique blend of flavors and artistry.
Will glanced over the sleek kitchen island as Hannibal opened the fridge, revealing an array of colorful salads he had meticulously prepared. The vibrant greens, glistening under the soft kitchen light, were artfully arranged alongside other fresh ingredients. After a moment of contemplation, Will selected the smallest salad, one that was adorned with crispy bacon, assorted chopped vegetables, and generous shavings of cheese.
As Hannibal began to plate his meal with precision, Will felt a grateful smile form on his lips. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice raspy, barely above a whisper.
Seated at the island, Will took his first bite, the flavors bursting pleasantly on his palate. Across from him, Hannibal observed with an intensity that made Will acutely aware of his presence. His focus was unwavering, those deep-set eyes tracing the line of Will's lips as they gracefully slid the fork to his mouth. The moment felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken words.
Hannibal’s silence was palpable, almost electric, and Will could feel his own heart quicken as he realized the weight of the gaze fixed upon him. He tried to steal a glance but found his dark lashes causing a veil over his striking blue-green eyes. Nevertheless, the sensation of being watched stirred an undeniable awareness within him, prompting his eyes to flicker up to meet Hannibal's gaze.
“What?” Will managed to ask, a nervous fluttering beginning in his chest, his pulse pounding against his ribcage in response to the charged atmosphere between them.
Instead of answering, Hannibal stepped closer, his presence commanding and intimate as he positioned himself beside Will. “How is it?” he asked, his voice a smooth, velvety murmur that seemed to envelop the space around them.
Will’s heart raced anew, realizing just how close they were—only inches separated him from Hannibal’s hips. The nearness sent a rush of warmth flooding through him, igniting a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that he could hardly suppress.
Will swallowed hard, his gaze flitting nervously around the dimly lit room, unsure of where to direct his attention. “It’s good,” he managed to say, his voice croaking. His eyes finally locked onto Hannibal’s striking maroon gaze, which sparkled with an intensity that sent a shiver down Will’s spine. There was a moment of tension as Hannibal’s fingers twitched, a barely contained urge to reach out and wipe away the smudge of Italian dressing that lingered on Will’s lips.
Hannibal was a man who knew no boundaries when it came to desires; he embraced indulgence as a way of life, and at that moment, the sight of Will’s pink tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip only deepened the yearning that stirred within him. It was a mix of disappointment and craving—a dangerous concoction that made the air thick with unspoken tension.
Hannibal gently lifts Will's chocolate curls, his fingers brushing against the damp skin of his forehead. “Will, are you feeling any better?” he inquires, his voice laced with concern. Although there are no visible signs of perspiration, Will’s skin feels clammy to the touch.
Will, finally finished with his meal, chews thoughtfully for a moment before setting his fork down on the table with a soft clatter. He looks up at Hannibal, his gaze steady. “I’m doing much better,” he replies cautiously. “Have you injected me with any medication?” There’s a hint of curiosity mixed with suspicion in his tone.
A slow smile spreads across Hannibal’s face, revealing a glimmer of satisfaction. “I’ve administered a low dose of azathioprine,” he reveals, his voice smooth and reassuring.
Will processes this information, staring at Hannibal for a moment, before letting out a soft “oh” and nodding, as if the revelation makes sense.
Unexpectedly, Hannibal runs his palm gently over the sensitive skin on the back of Will’s neck, eliciting a soft gasp from him. “You’re experiencing the aftereffects of your fever,” Hannibal observes, a playful chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re positively scalding to the touch, Will.”
He leans in just a bit closer, and Will feels the warmth radiating from his body. It’s a familiar comfort, yet it only amplifies his awareness of the heat rising from within. “Then again,” Hannibal continues, his tone teasing, “you’ve mentioned before that you tend to run warm, haven’t you? Sweating more than usual at night?” The intimate inquiry lingers in the air, wrapping around them both like a delicate thread, binding their shared vulnerability. Will nodded slightly, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he replied, “I do… get hot.” His breath caught in his throat as he felt Hannibal lean in closer, his raspy voice sending a shiver down Will’s spine. The warm, inviting scent of Hannibal’s breath filled the air, mingling with the faint notes of herbs and spices that always seemed to linger around him.
Hannibal smiled enigmatically, his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and mischief. “I suppose you’ve tried sleeping in a colder environment,” he mused, his tone both teasing and serious. “But I imagine that’s quite difficult during the sweltering summer months.”
With a careful shift, he inched even closer, their proximity making the air around them feel charged with unspoken tension. “That brings me to my next question, Will,” he added, his voice dropping to a low whisper that felt intimate and inviting. “Do you plan on spending the night here? If so, I would be more than happy to accommodate you.”
Will can feel his heart racing in his chest, a rapid drumbeat that echoes the confusion and uncertainty swirling in his mind. He stammers over his words, each syllable coated in a mix of gratitude and vulnerability, and warmth spread across his cheeks, leaving them flushed. “That’s incredibly kind of you… I do want to stay here. With encephalitis complicating things, I’m not sure I can trust myself to leave…”
In that moment, Hannibal feels a swell of emotion at Will's admission—how deeply dependent he seems, a stark contrast to his usual guarded demeanor. The softening of Will’s expression, combined with the unmistakable sense of safety he finds in Hannibal’s presence, could easily make anyone swoon. It’s an intimate exchange, full of unspoken words and palpable tension, as the understanding between them deepens in the quiet space they share.
“You don’t trust yourself, you trust me,” Hannibal remarked, his tone almost gleeful as a subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Dear Will, that simply overjoys me. I’m thrilled that you allow me to be your paddle,” he continued, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection.
Will felt a warmth spread across his cheeks, teasing at the edge of a blush, but he opted instead for a bright smile that lit up his face. It was moments like these, woven with understated intimacy, that made him feel both vulnerable and cherished.
Hannibal’s gaze flickered down to Will’s nearly finished salad, the vibrant colors of the fresh vegetables a stark contrast to the muted tones of their surroundings. With a graceful fluidity, Hannibal picked up the bowl and carried it to the sink. Will observed with amusement as Hannibal meticulously rinsed the remnants of the meal before placing the dish into the dishwasher, his precision almost ritualistic.
Watching him, Will couldn’t help but smile at how fastidious Hannibal was about cleanliness. It was amusing—and somewhat endearing—that while Hannibal couldn't tolerate even a single dish left in the sink, Will tended to let things soak overnight, leaving a trail of culinary chaos in his wake.
A thought danced through Will’s mind, a vision of a shared life between them, filled with laughter and gentle arguments over household chores. He imagined how Hannibal would likely insist that Will needn’t lift a finger—his insistence rooted not just in care, but also in his stubbornness and independence. After all, Will was a messy gremlin in contrast to Hannibal, prone to leaving a whirlwind of disarray in his path, much to Hannibal’s dismay. The idea of such domestic bliss, with well-ordered chaos, brought warmth to his heart, filling him with anticipation.
As soon as Hannibal returned to Will's side, an electric tension crackled in the air between them. Will swiftly stood up, feeling the intensity of Hannibal's gaze as their eyes locked. The difference in their heights was slight, yet at that moment, Will couldn't shake the feeling of being dwarfed by the presence of the man beside him. It was as if he were a delicate, exquisite object meant to be cherished and admired, not just by anyone, but specifically by Hannibal.
Hannibal's smile was warm and knowing, and he could see the way Will's captivating blue-green eyes flickered with a mixture of awe and uncertainty, marveling at him like a sunlit landscape. In a tender gesture, Hannibal gently took hold of Will's face, his hands cradling the boy's cheeks. The contrast was striking: Will's stubble which suggested masculinity and maturity was physically rough while Will's skin was baby-soft, sculpted with delicate cheekbones that invited admiration.
"Dear Will," Hannibal murmured, his voice flowing like silk, rich and velvety, wrapping around the words with an enticing warmth. "You possess a curious tendency to hold back your true thoughts. I often find myself at a loss, unable to decipher the complexities of your mind as easily as I do with others." He leaned in slightly, his smile never wavering, his gaze never faltering. "So, tell me," he continued, his tone both encouraging and playful, "what intrigues you in that brilliant mind of yours, hm?" The invitation was clear, a gentle nudge for Will to share the depths of his thoughts, while the air between them shimmered with unsaid emotions and uncharted possibilities.
Will's large, doe-like eyes gaze up at Hannibal, the intensity of their connection palpable in the dim light around them. A soft breath escapes his lips, followed by a light chuckle that hints at both nervousness and curiosity. "What I'm thinking about?" he begins his voice a mix of uncertainty and intrigue. "I... I'm wondering the same thing about you."
As he speaks, Hannibal subtly shifts his body closer, the deliberate movement of his leg sliding in between Will's, creating an electrifying proximity. The sudden shift takes Will by surprise, a soft gasp escaping his lips as his heart quickens its pace. The warmth of Hannibal's presence floods Will’s senses, overwhelming him. Instinctively, he reaches out, his fingers wrapping tightly around Hannibal’s wrist, grasping it not just for an anchor but also for an unspoken connection amid the charged atmosphere that surrounds them.
The air hangs thick with unacknowledged tension, each second stretching into something profound and deeply significant. Will can feel the weight of Hannibal's gaze, a mixture of curiosity and something more primal as if they are teetering on the edge of a precipice. “I’m considering your treatment plan,” Hannibal growls, his voice low and velvety, each word rolling off his tongue like silk. The sound lingers in the thick, warm air, wrapping around them like smoke rising from a slow-burning flame, inviting and dangerous all at once.
Will, taken aback by the unexpected remark, stammers slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “My… treatment plan?” Confusion etches itself across his features as his brows knit together in concern. “You mean… encephalitis?” He searches Hannibal’s eyes for reassurance, the tension in his body palpable.
Without warning, Hannibal sweeps his arms around Will, lifting him effortlessly and setting him atop the counter as if he weighed nothing at all. Will’s heart races at the sudden shift, astonished by the ease with which Hannibal handles him. The man, nearly a decade his senior, possesses a strength that seems almost superhuman. Will can’t help but wonder, where does he find the time for such a rigorous fitness regimen? The thought flutters through his mind as he grapples with the dizzying combination of confusion and awe.
Will practically mewls as he feels Hannibal's hands on his thighs, holding him in place.
“Hannibal-!”
Hannibal smiles, “sweet boy, would you like to start the treatment now?” Hannibal leans in closely, his breath warm and soft as it brushes against the delicate shell of Will’s ear. The faint murmur of his voice wraps around Will like a gentle caress, filled with an intimate intensity that sends shivers down his spine.
Will trembles and grips the back of Hannibal’s suit.
Will can feel how badly Hannibal wants him, and even worse- he can feel himself gain interest, so much interest. He swallows and croaks. “Yes please..”
Hannibal made candid eye contact with Will as he ripped the boy’s shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Will stared up at him, precious and vulnerable, his chest now visible. Hannibal can see his pretty pink nipples sprouting in contrast to his smooth pecs, and oh he wants.
Sweat drips from Will's forehead due to the heated moment; Hannibal laps it up with a flattened tongue. Will whines and yanks Hannibal closer.
“‘Hannibal” will mutter.
“What is it my darling… what is it you demand..”
Will can’t find the words so he just clenches his jaw, wanting badly to feel Hannibal closer, always closer. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal and brings their lips together in a sweet loving kiss rather than hurried and sloppy.
Hannibal gently pulled away from the kiss, his heart racing as he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of their shared moment. He closed his eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of the connection between them. As he breathed in, the air filled his lungs, mingling with the lingering aroma of their closeness and the faint notes of his cologne that still clung to his skin. He could feel a wave of emotion wash over him, a mix of desire and vulnerability, as he glanced at the other, their faces still inches apart, both lost in the intimacy of the moment, he moaned at Will's natural scent mixed with his arousal. He pushes Will gently against the island countertop. Will involuntarily rolls his hips upwards, helplessly turned on by the older man. Hannibal begins to lightly suck on the skin of wills neck, leaving light bruises in their wake, this draws a series of pleasurable noises out of wills mouth.
Hannibal takes a moment to step back and marvel at the state he has his boy in, eyes cloudy with want, lips quivering like he hadn’t experienced this in a while. Hannibal’s eyes turn down to a small wet spot in wills jeans, and his cock twitches, intrigued. Will's legs instinctively try to close when Hannibal runs a finger over the wet spot, Hannibal notices this and spreads Will's thighs far apart. Will's legs quiver, and he stares at Hannibal as the older man begins to connect the dots. 1, the darling boy had no bulge despite the time had been aroused, 2. The spot kept growing bigger, faster than anyone could produce pre-come. This surprise makes Hannibal smile down at will, endlessly adoring
“Seems I need condoms after all, don’t I will?”
Will swallows and nods, cheeks flushed.
Hannibal kisses Will's cheek before leaving the room, leaving Will feeling cold and second-guessing this entire encounter.
Hannibal arrives back with 3 extra large condoms, glances at the package, and balks, his legs start to tremble, terrified.
Will gasps and whines as his pants are roughly dragged off his body and thrown to the side. Will is left on the counter in only his boxers, admittedly uncomfortable as his dripping come had dropped from his pussy down his ass crack.
Hannibal can sense the boy's nerves, and despite the sadist he is, he leans down and presses soft kisses on Will's jaw.
“You look beautiful, will” Hannibal whispers, his fingers traveling along the waistband of Will's boxers
“I suppose this is frustrating for you, isn’t it sweetheart?.. especially with this mess you’re making..” he taps his fingers atop Will's clothed clit, and the boy squirms.
“Yeah… take them off please-“ will whines.
Hannibal’s erection spikes in growth, he pulls down wills boxers, revealing wills leaking pink pussy, and Hannibal groans.
Hannibal ducts his head down, lips on lips, he slurps obscenely on Will's swollen clit and labs up any escaping streams.
Will cries out, his legs twitching uncontrollably, his pussy so sensitive he can barely form words. Hannibal does unfathomable things with his tongue, from twisting it skillfully around in Will's hole to roughly sucking on Will's clit.
Hannibal slides two fingers inside while nibbling on wills clit, feeling his soft insides. Will arches his back, whining out pleas and begging for more.
Hannibal gently scoops the boy into his arms, cradling him securely against his chest. With measured steps, he ascends the staircase, each creak of the wooden treads echoing softly in the quiet house. His heart swells with anticipation as he approaches the door to the bedroom, envisioning the warmth and comfort that awaits them inside. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the window, promising a peaceful retreat as they prepare to settle in for a thrilling experience.