[ Relatively speaking, it wasn't too long ago that Will calling someone a friend would inspire something in Hannibal. It would be that desire to pick and prod at all the little bits of Chane's mind, to see where her weakest points were, to expose them, and to let them blossom into whatever they would become. It sounds possessive of Will, and he was always acutely aware of that implication. Maybe it was, in a way. But Hannibal had never thought of it as such. Bringing out those parts of people around Will was just something that felt as natural as breathing, because with each one, Will came to understand what Hannibal wanted to convey to him, but there were never any words for it. So he had chosen action instead.
Though as their lips comes together—as they come together—that desire is absent. There's no need for it anymore.
He's been waiting for this moment. He's thought about it in every embrace (especially the bloody ones), but even his imagination could never do it justice. And how could it? He could have never have guessed at the circumstances that would lead to this moment, but he's glad for every part of it. For all of his pining, for every love letter written in blood and corpses, it had all culminated into this moment. And it's such a relief that it almost has his normally so steady hands trembling with emotion as he shifts his hands to hold Will's face in both.
The sound that Will chokes out isn't mirrored vocally, but Hannibal wonders if that's his own emotion being reflected back at him or if it's Will's. He hopes that it's at least both, considering how his own eyes feel wet. It strikes him as almost comical, because for every time his eyes have gotten glassy over Will Graham, he had never actually cried. It somehow feels fitting that it would come now, at the mutual, physical acceptance of each other. He had thought this would come with more violence too, to be fair. He's glad it did not.
He takes his time as he returns the kiss, but it's not quite the languid, lazy enjoyment like he's been taking in this weekend otherwise. If it were that, he probably would be more vicious, but he's not hungry for Will anymore. With each touch of their lips, even as they're slow, that ache ebbs away. It feels like forever and not any time at all when Hannibal is the one to draw back, though it's to kiss with care along the line of Will's jaw, heading towards his neck. ]
This is why I've waited, by the way.
[ He breathes out against Will's beard, and that's probably why he wants Will to shave later... He'd much rather feel his skin. ]
The Sheriff mentioned that your empathy was heightened. This seemed like it may be too much.
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Though as their lips comes together—as they come together—that desire is absent. There's no need for it anymore.
He's been waiting for this moment. He's thought about it in every embrace (especially the bloody ones), but even his imagination could never do it justice. And how could it? He could have never have guessed at the circumstances that would lead to this moment, but he's glad for every part of it. For all of his pining, for every love letter written in blood and corpses, it had all culminated into this moment. And it's such a relief that it almost has his normally so steady hands trembling with emotion as he shifts his hands to hold Will's face in both.
The sound that Will chokes out isn't mirrored vocally, but Hannibal wonders if that's his own emotion being reflected back at him or if it's Will's. He hopes that it's at least both, considering how his own eyes feel wet. It strikes him as almost comical, because for every time his eyes have gotten glassy over Will Graham, he had never actually cried. It somehow feels fitting that it would come now, at the mutual, physical acceptance of each other. He had thought this would come with more violence too, to be fair. He's glad it did not.
He takes his time as he returns the kiss, but it's not quite the languid, lazy enjoyment like he's been taking in this weekend otherwise. If it were that, he probably would be more vicious, but he's not hungry for Will anymore. With each touch of their lips, even as they're slow, that ache ebbs away. It feels like forever and not any time at all when Hannibal is the one to draw back, though it's to kiss with care along the line of Will's jaw, heading towards his neck. ]
This is why I've waited, by the way.
[ He breathes out against Will's beard, and that's probably why he wants Will to shave later... He'd much rather feel his skin. ]
The Sheriff mentioned that your empathy was heightened. This seemed like it may be too much.