[ week five ➝ hannibal ]

[sweats]

[ So, today happened. Will's been swinging back and forth between righteous fury, empty desperation, and a resigned heartache and none of it was coming from him. A lot of pairs were fractured today, a lot of love lost and through all of it -- there was Hannibal, by his side and quite happy to be there. Will's stopped caring about what he hides and doesn't hide, not really. He wouldn't expose Hannibal but the population here tends to be so stupid that he doesn't care anymore. They ask him what he can do, and he'll tell them. He reads their secrets like a beaming flash of neon light and there is nothing they can do about it.

There is nothing he can do about it.

So, when he left, he had full intention of following Hannibal back to their room but he was waylaid by Ash and instead took a while to come back. When he finally returns, he's not really bothered by the experience either way but he does seem a little determined as he enters the room. When he closes it and toes off his shoes, he takes a breath before making a straight beeline for Hannibal. He doesn't even say hi.

When he gets to him, he takes hold of his face with both hands and pulls hims close to kiss, demanding and needy with tongue and teeth. If he's on the bed, Will moves to push him back and straddle him, fingers moving to curl into his hair and thumbs brushing against the side of his face. He'll stay like that for a long while, at least a solid ten minutes or so of just pure kissing, before he murmurs against Hannibal's mouth -- ]

When I die, how will you kill for me?

[ Not an if. A when. A how. Will knows Hannibal entirely. ]

Comments

oh my god keywords

[sating]

[ It had become a routine for them that after the trials, they would slip away together, back to their room, and so Hannibal was slightly surprised when someone had interrupted. Not too much, since he expected that maybe Ash had something to discuss with him, but instead, it was Will. There was nothing less than a smile of amusement on Hannibal's face at the time, even a comment of "That's a reversal from the usual," but Hannibal had let the two of them go have their talk. He wasn't worried by it, and so he had returned to their room. Hannibal picks up his journal as he often does, but instead of writing, today, he draws.

The sketch is only that, and so by the time Will returns, it's almost done. He's drawing Sara in beautiful detail, but reminiscent of a painting of Themis. It's always amused him to draw people he knows as the characters that made up Greek mythology, though the urge hadn't struck him here until tonight. He's comfortable here. Lounging in bed, drawing, completely unbothered by the message that had come this morning. It was what he expected, so Hannibal only wished to enjoy it. So he looks up from his work with a small smile that's at ease and relaxed, though a corner of his lip quirks in curiosity at Will's expression. ]

No "hello"?

[ Hannibal asks as Will approaches with purpose, but it's only a wry question. They know each other far too well for it to be a serious question. He sets his drawing aside without complaint, because as soon as Will returns, it barely interests him anyways. He welcomes Will closer, and though he's surprised by the near-desperation in the kiss, it's only out of curiosity at what sparked this level of it. But it's a question that will be answered in time. They always are.

As Will pushes him back, Hannibal has no particular problem with taking a leisurely path towards the answer. He doesn't need words to find it, and so he responds and indulges all at once. His hands rest steadily on Will's waist to pull him closer in his own way without getting in the way of how Will keeps their faces together. It's no different than any previous time they've kissed, in a way. There's no less passion, as if Hannibal were determined to make up for the lost time it had taken for Will to come to the realization that this is what they both wanted.

The kiss breaks for a question, but Hannibal smiles easily. There's little pause, but his voice comes out low and dark between puffs of heavy breath as he regains it. ]

Beautifully. It would be my masterpiece.

[ He cranes his head up slightly, stealing another kiss greedily before he relaxes again. ]

I would eat them entirely. Flay every piece of flesh from their bone so that the skeleton lays bare. Feast on their meat and eat their heart raw, because to be without you, my heart would feel the same. It is only fair that I return the favor.

[ There's more to it than that, and that's probably the "masterpiece" part in the picture in his head, but he waits for that. He wants to see how Will reacts to that basic idea. Their flesh being torn apart would certainly be a mirror to his own feelings, he knows. ]

what the fuck is this

[sweats]

[ The answer seems to soothe something in him. His eyes close and the tension held taut finally snaps and he sinks against Hannibal, foreheads pressed closer as his hands slide lower, hanging loosely off of Hannibal's shoulders. He likes the idea of it, likes the force of the vengeance he could picture going through Hannibal's entire body -- the vicious, snarling thing Hannibal keeps locked tight under flesh and mind.

He is reminded again how Hannibal is his creature entirely. His monster to keep. His beast to claim. There is barely any human left in him but every part is his -- animal and man, all belong to Will. He will not let anyone else have it, he will not share custody with the Ripper with Jack Crawford or Alana Bloom or anyone else. No, he is Bluebeard's Wife and he is the last. ]

There wouldn't be any meat left. You'd eat them until you were full and then continue to feast. It would be the only way for you to be close to me again.

[ It would be like Mischa, he thinks. He wonders if he has reached that tier, if anyone can and he has a sudden desperate urge to be that important to Hannibal. Hannibal was altered completely by her death, wouldn't it be the same for Will's? He doesn't know. He truly does not know but he hopes. He hopes to God.

He start kissing again, slower but just as hungry and savors the feeling of Hannibal's lips against his. He is warm and soft and nothing Will thought he would be and Will is happier for it. He didn't think he was being deprived until it started and now, Hannibal as close as this, as free to touch, is all he could ask for. ]

I feel such affection for you, Hannibal. It's -- new. Surprising. I feel I might burst from it, unable to contain the build up and I leak like an oil spill

that gay shit (tm)

[sating]

[ When Will relaxes, Hannibal's arms shift to hold him in a loose embrace instead. It's a contrast in that moment, because for how easily Hannibal speaks of horrific violence as if it were breathing, the way his expression softens in an easy, comfortable bliss against Will doesn't seem to fit that. It would be easy to mistake those soft moments for that part of Hannibal that may still be a man, but it's not. This is the monster so comfortable in its own skin that it willingly steps out into the sunlight to be seen as no one else would be allowed to. It's honesty that Hannibal rarely affords himself. ]

Just as the worshiper feels close to Christ in the Eucharist. I would eat in memory of you.

[ They've always spoken in extended metaphors, sometimes extending years, and Hannibal as a God of his own was only one of them. So perhaps it was fitting that after the fall, it would continue in this way. But at least it doesn't continue, because where a long conversation could easily extend from their own, twisted theology, there's something simpler to occupy them. Even as much as Hannibal enjoys their conversations, the novelty of these long, languid kisses is a much easier trap to fall into. To the point that each time Will pulls back, it's almost a disappointment, because the pleasure of the physical is new and novel for them. But also because it's Will, he never truly minds. ]

It is surprising, isn't it? [ He responds coolly, since it's not a wry comment at all. It's warm, affectionate, but also understanding. ]

It is how I felt about you when you came to my office. I actually always wondered if you would notice. With you, I always wondered just how much of me you could see. If the affection I felt was as clear to you as it was almost frightening to me. I suppose, in a way, I did burst from it. We both did.

[ Probably more than once, in fact. ]

finally after all the shit that happened as a result of this stupid tag

[sweats]

[ That's all he needs, really. To know the extent Hannibal would go, to know just what's waiting on the other side of that. He expects it to be him because Hannibal is a beast of his own making, nearly infallible with his ability to slip out of harm's way. So, it must be Will who dies first, isn't it? And he will watch from wherever he ends up as Hannibal takes and takes and takes until he's returned to Will. They can't be apart, can they?

So, instead there is the kiss and the hold they have on each other. The physical part of this is such an interesting progression of their relationship -- it feels nothing like kissing Molly, like kissing Alana so long ago. It feels like an extension of everything else he craves from Hannibal -- love, acceptance, knowing. Hannibal speaks and Will savors the ghost of the touch of Hannibal's mouth, feels his eyes close as his forehead presses to Hannibal's. ]

It was less of a struggle to know and more of a fight to let myself see. There was so much about you I didn't want to accept. I -- I didn't think you were capable of it. For a long time, I thought there was no way you could have felt...

[ Felt love, for Will. Affection. Anything soft and true that isn't allowed for monsters, for people like Hannibal. The possibility was unfathomable, even to someone like Will. ]