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Will responds to Hannibal’s touch in two different ways. 

Wavering indifference is the first, most often employed through the duration of their days. Hannibal will approach him either in the kitchen or the study, and Will almost every time will feign ignorance. Hannibal has learned to see through this façade, understanding that Will’s hackles are always raised, his peripheral sight always in use for any unexpected phenomena.

Will does not shrug away from Hannibal’s touch, nor does he verbally put a halt to it. In fact, indifference is most often an invitation to continue. It is his natural state, as his other opposing reaction to Hannibal’s touch uses an extensive amount of energy. 

The other way in which Will responds is to be magnificently overwhelmed. 

Hannibal has never met another man (nor even a woman) who can become so undone from just a thumb and forefinger on their chin, holding him in place. Or, a hand at the incline of his back, or even a kiss under his kneecap. 

More often than not, Hannibal will work through the side-eyed glances Will gives him when he’s in the study reading, or in the kitchen watching. He’ll stroke his cheek until his stone faced veil fades and he starts to shudder, pressing into his hand as if it’s the only source of water in a vast desert. 

Hannibal can manipulate him psychically, so easily, and only because Will has given him the ability to do so.

He can shut it off. Whenever he pleases. His wavering indifference can become a cold shouldered, closed off affair. On rare occasions when they manage to rile each other up, both are extensively trained in the art of stubbornness, of bitter reticence. 

They can go for days without touching each other, and in a twisted way, Hannibal prefers the outcomes of these petty scuffles. 

Will comes back to him with trembling breath and needy eyes. He leans into him, drags his hands over his body, moans with abandon when Hannibal fucks between his thighs and forgives him all in the same maneuver. Will allows himself to be held after the fact, to be stroked and soothed like a bird with a broken wing. 

It was in the Swiss Alps retreat they spent their recent summer at that Will initiated sex for the first time. It had been after cups of herbal tea and an album or two of European folk music on the record player. Will had been flushed all night long, and Hannibal wanted to see what would happen if he disregarded his presence almost entirely. 

It didn’t take long at all for Will to scoot closer to him on the couch, to catch his hand in his own, and slip Hannibal’s fingertips just slightly between his lips, to give them a wet kiss. 

“Give me a tour of the bedroom,” he had demanded, in a low sultry voice.

Hannibal had easily complied, to his fullest and most passionate intent. 

They came home to sweat-slick Argentina from the snowy peaked mountains of Switzerland feeling nourished and revitalized. Will seemed a new, buoyant person, and Hannibal felt utterly content for the first time in a long time. 

Will is settled on top of Hannibal. 

What had first just been a comfortable way to kiss him, lick into his mouth, a relaxed and domestic gesture, had soon turned into a desperate rutting with sucking lips and tongues. 

Hannibal has two fingers buried deep in his ass, slick with the lube from their nightstand. There isn’t a lot of talking tonight; both of them can be very chatty in bed depending on the mood or circumstance, but tonight they’re both high-strung and horny and not exactly looking for a wordy explanation as to why that is. 

Will sits up just enough to tug his white shirt over his head, and Hannibal’s hands flutter down to his ribs, stroking the creamy skin there. A strange thought that he feels like a soft pig, pink and docile, crosses his mind. 

Hannibal imagines him strewn in ropes, a trussed pig laid out for me to devour. 

Will doesn’t give Hannibal much time to gawk at him; he comes crashing down in the next moment, groaning into his mouth with the force of their collision. Hannibal’s hands travel back down to the curve of his ass, his slicked fingers disappearing between his cheeks once more. He inserts a third and Will lets out a breathy noise against his lips. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, forehead falling to the crook of his neck. 

Hannibal keeps stretching him, scissoring his fingers in and out until Will’s muscles start to give. He knows he’s ready when Will starts to rock back, forgets where he is and what he’s doing, is just a breathing humanoid form chasing its pleasure. 

Hannibal reaches down to tug his pajama pants down just enough to expose his cock. He’s surprised when Will sits up, towers over him lean and cat-like. 

He isn’t looking at Hannibal. His eyes are glazed over in thought as he rocks his ass back against his erection. Hannibal hisses, but doesn’t move him, allows him to do as he pleases.

After a moment, Will takes Hannibal’s erection, strokes up and down once to spread the precum down the shaft, and lines it up to press against his hole. 

Hannibal tries not to roll his hips up into him as he slowly bears down. Will has never ridden him, never asked or tried. Hannibal had been prepared to flip him over and take him fast and hard in the missionary position, as he normally prefers. 

It makes him weak to watch Will spear himself on his cock with a beautifully tortured grimace and short, delicate breaths falling from his lips. 

When he’s fully seated, he keeps his hands on Hannibal’s stomach, palms flat and warm. It sears Hannibal’s skin, despite the gentle touch.

Will adjusts for about a minute, and it is the longest minute of Hannibal’s life. Just waiting for Will to change his mind or to give up on this all together, decide this position has ruined the night for him, but after the minute passes he looks to Hannibal with a dark challenge in his eyes. 

Hannibal wants to reach out and touch him, his cock or his nipples, or over his rib cage where his heart will be beating rapidly, just for him. He wants to touch his quivering yet powerful thighs, but instead he keeps his arms at his side, and waits. 

Will meets his stare with mettle. 

Then, he lifts his hips, pressing one palm harder into Hannibal’s belly to give himself the momentum. He closes his eyes just when Hannibal’s cock is about to slip from his body. The head is pulling at his rim, but instead, Will drops back down abruptly. 

Air is punched out of Hannibal, and a small cry from Will who’s eyes shoot open in shock. The sensation is different for him, it must be. The pressure on his prostate is something he can control for himself in this position.

He can control everything. 

Hannibal swallows and makes eye contact with him when they’ve both recovered. Will smirks deviously before lifting up again, and dropping just as quick. 

One of Hannibal’s hands flies to his hip, grips tight. He doesn’t try to stop him, or change up his movements, his instinct is merely to hold on. 

With another rise and fall of his hips, Will starts to gather way. 

He uses his thighs to bounce, the strength in his knees to push himself up and off of Hannibal’s cock and back onto it again, over and over. Soon enough, he’s riding Hannibal earnestly with a slack jaw, and wide and curious eyes. 

Hannibal can tell he’s shocked he’s never tried this before, shocked at how good it feels. If the trembling fingers embroiling the hairs on Hannibal’s stomach are anything to go by, Will is on the verge of falling apart. 

Hannibal has remained still this entire time, despite his hands squeezing Will’s hips on and off in encouragement. Will is going to topple forward or backward unless he harnesses a sliver of control, so he leans up and digs his fingertips into his hip bones. 

He thrusts up into his velvet soft body and Will moans loud, head falling back to expose  his beautifully contoured neck. Hannibal wants to lean up and bite, bruise. 

He doesn’t. He remains on his back, head cocked up high enough to watch Will ride him like they’re going to disappear tomorrow. He’s dripping with sweat, moaning with every hard thrust Hannibal gives to him, and he’s not stopping or slowing to breathe or to break. 

Hannibal drags his nails down his back, cups his ass and digs his fingers into the crease, closing in on where his cock is thrusting in and out of his supple opening. 

“Yes, yes,” Will whispers frantically, hips stuttering once when one of Hannibal’s fingers brushes up against his rim just to feel how wide he’s stretched. 

Will’s head falls forward, and he looks up at Hannibal behind hooded eyes and a wet flop of dark hair. He looks feral in the moonlight, shadowed and luminous all at once. 

Hannibal’s breath hitches, and before he can figure out if he even wants to say anything, Will is intertwining their hands, braiding their fingers together. Will shoves their hands above Hannibal’s head with inhuman speed and force, and keeps them pressed against the pillow as he fucks himself harder on his cock. 

Their faces are close, and Hannibal can see the subtle snarl on Will’s face. The emboldened curl of his lip, the confident dominance dancing in his eyes. 

Hannibal cranes his head back, presenting his neck in capitulation and Will makes a broken noise, clamping down on his cock and coming in wet jolts over his stomach and his own thighs. 

Hannibal comes when Will digs his grip into his knuckles, and bites his neck all at once, continuing to thrust back against Hannibal’s cock in shocky, needy motions. 

He spills inside of Will, deeply seated and throbbing. 

His head rolls back to its natural position, and Will is watching him with parted lips and shock in his eyes. The confidence has drifted away, and Hannibal wants to chase it and convince it to never leave. 

“My love,” Hannibal murmurs, voice hoarse despite its disuse. 

He raises a palm to Will’s cheek, but he jerks away, climbing off Hannibal’s lap. 

He wobbles to a stand at the foot of the bed, and reaches down for his briefs, slides them on before sliding them back off again after a moment of deliberation.  

“I’m going to take a shower,” Will tells him, an unstable smile appearing for only a second before he disappears into their bathroom and locks the door. 

Hannibal sighs, settling down onto the bed. 

He feels grimy and well-used. 

After a minute of comfortable, sated silence with himself, Hannibal considers picking the lock of the bathroom door. He decides against it, and ties his pajama pants tight around his waist before traversing down to the kitchen to make a midnight snack. 

He goes a bit overboard, when he realizes he has just enough mayonnaise to make devilled eggs.

Will tramples down the stairs just as he’s finishing. 

“The kettle is still warm, if you’d like tea,” Hannibal says without turning to face him. Will watches for a moment and scratches his beard. 

“I – ” he sighs and crosses his arms. “No, I came down to see why you left.”

“I was hungry,” Hannibal responds, glancing up to catch his uneasy stare. “I assure you, that is the only reason.” 

“For devilled eggs…at midnight.” 

“I had the ingredients. Eggs are quite healthy, Will.”

“Sure,” Will grumbles, running a hand through his mussed hair. There is silence as Hannibal sprinkles paprika over them, and then he hands one to Will who takes it awkwardly.

He’d dried off the sweat from his hair and skin in the bathroom with a towel, Hannibal can tell, but he isn’t able to mask the smell of sex from his skin. The scent travels in the air like blood, hot and aromatic. 

Will doesn’t tell Hannibal it’s good, but he grows closer to the tray with a hum and snatches another. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth and chews with a squirrel-like cheek. Hannibal tries not to be too endeared, taking a careful bite of his own. 

He hums in pleasure towards his own work. 

“Are you – ” Will pauses, licks salt from his thumb before turning his body to face Hannibal. “What I mean is, I’m sorry if I…”

Hannibal meets his eyes and Will looks away, unable to continue. 

“I am not so fragile,” he assures and Will sighs. 

“Hell, I know that. I should know that better than anyone.”  

“And yet you feel guilty?” Hannibal questions, taking another egg from the tray. He admires the floral shape of the filling before taking a bite and turning to find Will dipping his head in acquiescence. “Because you ran from me, like you did the first night.” 

“Can I have some wine?” 

“As I’ve told you, this is your house as well as it is mine. You are free to have wine whenever you please,” Hannibal gestures to the wine cabinet. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Will asks, inching towards the bottles. He’s asking because he wants to explain himself, he doesn’t want Hannibal going to bed thinking he’d been rejected.

Hannibal knows what occurred had not been rejection, perhaps just fright. 

“I will stay up to have a drink with you.” 

Will smiles, and pulls out a bottle of Merlot. He holds two clear glasses in one hand and pours the drink halfway full for the both of them. He hands Hannibal his glass and sets his own down so he can re-cork the bottle. 

They wander in the direction of the living room, but Hannibal curls his fingers around Will’s wrist and leads him outside. He settles down on the padded bench on their porch and waits for Will to do the same. 

Cicadas’ tymbals vibrate and buzz frantically, and the wind wisps past them in strong gusts. It is a stormy night, with clear skies. Will shivers, only in a white shirt and boxers. Hannibal would give him his coat if he had one on. As it stands, he’s wearing less clothing than Will, but still feels hot as if it were a summer’s day. 

“The last time you reacted as such, you had been under me. Your eyes went wide with fear, and I thought I’d injured you,” Hannibal recollects. 

Their first time had been intense and profound. Will opening up to him for the first time felt like a miracle. Breaking him down to a sweat, to a shaking, moaning, strumming organism of pure need had felt like the closest thing to euphoria Hannibal could describe. After an orgasm that had stretched on like sweet taffy between them, Will had run off to the shower, not coming out for an hour after the fact. 

When they spoke of it together, in similar conditions, with wine glasses and pajamas adorned, Will had admitted that he’d never felt so complete in the entirety of his life. 

It had scared him, to feel so consummate. 

“It’s not the same. I’m prepared for how that feels now. How we feel together,” Will begins, wavering. “But, I wasn’t prepared for how I’d personally feel in that position.” 

“And what position is that?” Hannibal asks, curious. 

“On top,” Will mutters, so low Hannibal cannot hear. 

“Hmm?” 

“Dominating you,” Will restates, firmly and clearly. “I felt like I could rip your throat out and you’d let me. I felt like I could chain you to the wall and you’d be powerless to stop me. I felt like I owned you.” 

“That bothered you?”

“It felt…that isn’t our dynamic. It felt like I’d misstepped.”  

Hannibal remains silent for a moment. He savors a sip of wine, and then settles back against the briery wicker bench. Will sits on the edge of the bench, right leg in the early stages of a rapidfire bounce. 

“What do you think our dynamic is?” Hannibal asks finally. 

Will’s head swerves to face him. For a man who claimed to understand what it is only moments prior, he is struggling to formulate a response to the question. 

“I’m not saying there’s an imbalance,” Will assures, fingers jittery where they flutter absently on the cushion. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, but it’s not about that. I feel equal to you.” 

“But, in the bedroom…” 

“You take care of me,” Will whispers. “You take me apart and put me back together again, and I want you to because it f – feels good.” 

Hannibal watches him closely, allowing him to unravel the truth for himself. 

“For the first time, I felt like I was taking you apart. It was exhilarating, and it was terrifying. That you could give me that much power over you, it felt disingenuous, like I’d taken something from you that you hadn’t offered.” 

“In risk of sounding like a broken record, I must warn you that you worry too much, Will,” Hannibal says, placing his palm on top of Will’s twitching hand. 

He flinches away, but his hand finds Hannibal’s again, almost instantly. 

“Did you really want me like that? Or was it obligation?”

“Nothing about our intimacy is obligation,” Hannibal corrects sternly. “You possess power over me you don’t realize.”

Will meets his eyes, their light color brimstone in the shadows. 

“I do realize.” 

Hannibal smirks. 

“If it is a complaint you expect from me, you will hear nothing of the sort. I don’t believe I have to tell you how immensely I enjoyed you taking the reins,” he says, low. 

Will’s lashes flutter, and his lips curve up. He leans in, gaze falling to Hannibal’s lips and Hannibal collides with him gently, slipping his tongue into his mouth to taste the wine and paprika lingering inside. Will moans lightly, bringing a hand up to cup Hannibal’s cheek. 

They break apart after a few seconds, content to leave it at that. 

“Come to bed,” Hannibal whispers, forehead pressed into Will’s. Will pushes back and nods without separating them. 

Hannibal leads them back through the kitchen so he can store the eggs in the fridge, and the dishes in the dishwasher. Will shadows his movements and smiles warmly when Hannibal takes his hand and shuts off the lights downstairs in unison. 

They settle into bed together, and Hannibal shifts up against Will’s back. The cotton shirt is soft on his chest. Will’s body is chilled from the night air, and the sensation of him breathing steadily is enough to lull him to sleep. 

They don’t speak about the incident again. 

Weeks pass, and Will occasionally sits astride Hannibal to ride him into oblivion. Hannibal never refuses, always delighted to watch his dark horse gallop and cry out as he finds his own pleasure, and takes Hannibal’s for himself. 

One notable evening, Will climbed into his lap when he’d been reading Zeno’s Conscience by Italo Svevo. Apparently Will’s opinion of Svevo had made itself known when he’d tossed the book toward the fireplace. It hadn’t been engulfed, obviously, but even if it had, he’d distracted Hannibal with his hips and grip at the sensitive hairs on his neck. 

More often, they stick to Hannibal fucking Will. 

Will likes this position. He likes to be on his back as Hannibal slides into him, and gruffly finds a rough rhythm, bringing them both to a heady and affectionate release. 

Will likes to snake his arms around Hannibal and hold him as he’s screwed senseless, and he likes to whisper sweet words into Hannibal’s ears as he comes apart. Only once and awhile though, to keep his confessions a surprising treat for when they do occur. 

One morning, they are feeding a flock of Rosy-billed Pochards by the edge of the lake behind their house. Will is holding a bag of microwaved peas, and Hannibal dips his fingers into the bag only a few times throughout their walk to toss a few to the chubby one at the far corner of the lake’s incline. 

“I want to ask you something that may sound like an accusation or a grievance, but is neither,” Will tells him, tossing some peas to the ducks that have waddled up close to his feet. 

Hannibal turns, taken aback by the statement. 

Will had been easy going all morning, no sign of trouble. 

This doesn’t mean there’s trouble, but there is always room for Hannibal to be surprised. He wonders what Will could possibly be ready to ask. 

“Go on,” Hannibal urges. 

He buries his hands in his morning coat when Will turns to him. Will’s bottom lip is sucked into his mouth, and he flexes his fingers at his sides as he stumbles over ways to word what he’s about to say, in his head. 

“You don’t initiate,” Will declares. 

There is silence and quacking for a precarious moment.

“I don’t initiate,” Hannibal repeats, just to understand that this is precisely what Will is claiming. 

Will nods, then sees the dilemma and chuckles. 

“No, I mean, I know you initiate. You initiated a long time before I could even dare – You don’t initiate when I’m the one, you know, when I’m the one leading.” 

Hannibal tilts his head, puzzled. Will huffs in frustration. 

“You never ask me to take control. You never ask me to ride you. You don’t have to, I’m just wondering if it’s not something you really want, or if you prefer the other way we, you know, I don’t mind if you’d rather we didn’t.” 

Hannibal realizes Will is underestimating just how easygoing a man he is in certain scenarios. Sex, being one of them. 

“Trust me, I prefer the variety we’ve discovered together.” 

“Then why – ” Will huffs again then dumps the ziplock bag of peas on the grass. The ducks catapult forward and poke their bills into the wet soil, searching for every last bit. Will shoves the bag in his pocket and approaches Hannibal. “You’re saying that you want me to take over, and that sometimes you even prefer it that way around.” 

Hannibal all but shrugs. 

“I prefer you anyway you allow me to have you,” he admits. 

Will shakes his head, sour amusement lining his voice.

“You have to have a preference occasionally. You’re telling me in the evening when we’re having dinner, you don’t think about how you’d like to have me on my back or if you’d like me to ride you on the living room couch,” he argues.

“I do think up specific scenarios,” Hannibal agrees. “But, if the night does not go according to plan, I adapt. It does not bother me, and I would delight in any position we try.” 

Will is forcing himself to accept this. Hannibal can see in his eyes he’s stretching his empathy out, surrounding the both of them. He wants to understand this as the truth; he needs to accept that Hannibal is pliable, willing, and moldable to his whims. 

Dark understanding crosses Will’s eyes when the realization sets in. 

“So, if we were to switch things up, you wouldn’t mind?” 

Hannibal shakes his head. 

“Okay,” Will murmurs. “Okay. Let’s go get dinner.”

The night after this discussion, they are preparing for bed.

They don’t always come to bed together. Some nights, Hannibal retires early and Will comes in after hours alone in the study, crafting fishing lures and making friends with the stray cat that sleeps on the outside windowsill. 

Tonight however, they are sliding under the sheets together. Both have washed up, and Will smells of the cucumber soap Hannibal had purchased for him on his birthday. Will snuggles close and turns on his side, ready to be held. 

Hannibal has been harboring an idea since the lake. 

Will desires some form of initiation. He wants to see that Hannibal wants his dominance just as badly as he wants his submission. He can ease into that for him, and he knows just the way to start. 

Instead of hugging Will close, he also turns on his side and reaches back to take Will’s left arm and manually drape it across his chest. 

Will’s hand freezes on his bare chest, rigid and unsure. 

Hannibal shimmies back to show this is exactly what he wants. It only takes a moment following this for the tension to drain from Will’s body and for him to press close and settle against him. His heart is thumping rapidly against Hannibal’s back. One of his legs slips between Hannibal’s and there is a comfortable weight on the back of his balls. 

He sighs and forces himself to relax as well. 

It has been a long time since he’s been held. In fact, Hannibal can’t remember the last time he had been. They have never slept this way, and while Will has often held his hand or cuddled up to his side on a bench or a couch, he’s never wrapped himself around him, held him entirely.

Something in him cracks when Will kisses his neck tenderly.

He wraps Will’s arm tighter around him, and he struggles to swallow. 

“You’re not doing this for me, are you?” Will asks softly, and the concern in his voice makes Hannibal’s skin crawl. He wants to grind his teeth to dust.

“No,” he mutters. 

“You’re trembling,” Will observes, stroking down his forearm and feeling goosebumps. 

He moves to back away, but Hannibal digs his nails into the arm tucked across his belly. He cuts deep enough to draw blood and whispers, “Don’t.” 

They lay together for some time. Will’s breathing is quick and hot against his neck, and his arm is rigid again, but not with anxiety. He’s drawn tight as a bow, cock twitching against the curve of Hannibal’s ass every time he shifts. 

When he tilts forward to kiss his neck again, closer to his ear, Hannibal leans into the touch, nuzzling his temple against Will’s cheek. 

He catches Will’s gaze in the dark, sparkling and adoring. He captures Hannibal’s mouth in his own and kisses him with intent, grinding up against the curve of his ass. 

Hannibal’s hand moves into the crevices of the one flat on his stomach and he drags it down to cup the front of his briefs. Will gasps, fondling Hannibal’s cock, marveling at its hardness. 

A quiet noise falls from Hannibal’s lips and he clamps his mouth shut, unwilling to fall apart at the seams even when Will’s fingers slip beneath his waistband and curl around him. 

Will’s resorted to sucking marks into his neck, thrusting against him rhythmically. 

His leg slips in further between Hannibal’s, to keep them entangled. Hannibal’s legs clamp around him when Will thumbs the head of his cock, trailing precum around in a circle. 

“Yeah?” Will breathes into his skin, pushing the tip of his thumb into the slit and Hannibal’s breath hitches. Will gives a pleased sigh in response. 

There is a rustling sound; Will is shimmying out of his boxers, so Hannibal follows and throws his own briefs across the room along with Will’s. He grunts when Will lines up his cock to the crease of his ass and begins to thrust. It’s the closest thing to being fucked Hannibal has ever experienced and for the first time in his life, he wants it. 

Hannibal hasn’t told Will that he’s never been fucked by a man. When they were first starting out, he’d told Will vaguely of his experience. Will knows he’s been with men, has most likely assumed he’s done it both ways, but he couldn’t be more wrong. 

Hannibal has never given his body over to another in that way. Sex has always been another skill to be masterful at. He can make love to someone until their throat burns from screaming, and he can use his tongue on almost any part of a person’s body, and watch them unravel in minutes. But, he has never opened himself for another man. Would never have if asked to. 

He tenses when Will’s free hand slips between them and fingers over his tight hole. He’ll let him, if he wants to. He promised him that much. 

Of course, because it’s Will, he must sense something is off. 

“We won’t if you don’t want to,” Will murmurs, voice strained with arousal. He huffs a breath against the nape of his neck and bites lightly, affectionately. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Just like this.” Hannibal is well aware his accent is thick, words jumbled, but he grips Will’s hand tight, the one that is stroking his cock in short and tight twists of the wrist. 

“Anything,” Will kisses behind his ear. “God, anything you want.” 

Hannibal arches his back, pressing his ass against Will’s erection; Will makes a tortured throaty sound in response and starts to rut against him faster, harder. The crease of Hannibal’s ass is growing slick not just with sweat but with the fluid leaking out of Will’s cock. 

Will’s hand picks up the pace, and Hannibal sighs in delight. 

He doesn’t have to do any of the work. He just has to react naturally, allow his body to move in ways that its instincts tell it to. Will is pouring out his love into his skin, showing him just how badly he desires him, desires him in the same way Hannibal does when he has him caught in his talons, digging into supple flesh, and begging for him to wail. 

The head of Will’s cock catches on his rim, and Hannibal groans in surprise, falling forward into his pillow. Breath is punched out of him and he grasps at the mattress to maintain some semblance of control. Fabric is slipping between his fingers; even this clutch is crumbling. 

“Look at you,” Will’s reedy voice commands him to return to reality. He bites at Hannibal’s shoulder and draws out a sharp, shuddering gasp. “Fuck, you’re taking it so well.” 

Hannibal imagines taking it. He imagines relinquishing his sovereignty.

Could Will truly empty his mind, worm a screw into the cogs and shut him down? For one glorious moment, Hannibal could allow that. 

But, not tonight. 

Will moans, thrusts roughly against him. He’s gripping his hip with the other, keeping him on his side so he can keep jerking him off, dragging him closer to release. 

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice rumbles like a purr. “Will, I’m yours.” 

“Yes,” Will keens, and he squeezes his fist around Hannibal. 

That’s all Hannibal needs. One thrust of the damp head of his dick through a tight circle of fingers has him spilling across the bedsheets with a high-pitched sound ripped from his lungs. Will huffs in surprise, turned on to the point of shaking. 

Hannibal’s orgasm brightens with each rub against his rim, and he jolts under Will when he drags the head of his cock over his hole, presses slightly but not enough to pop in. 

“Come inside me,” Hannibal urges gruffly. The request forms out of nowhere, from the darkest halls of his mind palace. He didn’t know he needed this until now. 

“Huh?” Will asks sweetly, blinded by his arousal. 

Without turning, Hannibal reaches back and steadies his hip with a hand. He wraps his hand around Will’s hard cock and presses him up against the rim of his hole, he strokes him for a moment so Will understands.

“Oh god,” Will whines, but starts stroking himself frantically. He places a firm palm on Hannibal’s spine to lower him to the mattress, so Hannibal cocks his hips up to make it easier for him. Will groans, rubbing the head of his cock over his hole as he tugs himself to completion. 

“Hannibal, I can’t – ” he starts, but is unable to finish. Wet spurts of come splash against his thighs, covering his hole. His rim twitches from the heat, and he’s sure some of it dribbles inside of him. Will moans helplessly, the head of his cock twitching against Hannibal’s ass in the aftershocks. 

He collapses over him and sprinkles his shoulder blades in languid kisses. 

“Was that okay?” Will whispers once their skin begins to cool.

Hannibal finally heaves himself up and around, and gathers Will into his arms. He kisses him with gratitude, love, and any other positive emotions he can muster up from his melty, surged out brain. 

“You are a force of nature. You rip my roots from their foundation, and you plant new ones in their stead,” Hannibal takes Will’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls. “If I am to be the harvest to which you reap, I would like nothing more than to be unearthed from the soil once more and offered into your celestial palm.” 

“I’m guessing yes,” Will murmurs, and laughs into the kiss Hannibal drags him into. 

They do not sleep in this position again for some time. 

Nor does Will ride him for another week, though their sex isn’t lacking. 

It seems this part of their relationship needs some time to grow and change, to adapt. They can’t rush into it, both of them realize that. Will realizes more than Hannibal can even fathom.

Will is doing maintenance on their boat when Hannibal finds him. 

It is only a twenty minute drive from their home. 

It is nearing lunch time, and Hannibal wants to know if Will would prefer something pasta-based or something with fish. Considering he’s spent almost all day out on the water, Hannibal assumes pasta would be the way to go, but he always likes to make sure. 

When Will sees him, he drops his hammer. 

He stumbles to his feet with a gawky smile spreading across his cheeks. It endears him, but Hannibal knows Will wouldn’t pause his work unless it were truly important. 

“Hannibal,” he greets. 

“Will. How’s she coming along?”

“Good days and bad days,” Will admits, looking over the stern of the ship. “Today’s a better day. I think I can take her out on the water soon without any problem.” 

“I’ll be happy to traverse the sea with you once more,” Hannibal tells him, and Will averts his gaze discreetly, looking down to admire his own feet.

Their first kiss had been during the boat ride here, to their new life. 

“I’ve come to pick you up for lunch.” 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Will shifts, scratches the back of his neck as he looks out at the sea. “Can we do that first?” 

“Of course,” Hannibal agrees, warily. “In the car?”

“Yeah,” Will says distractedly. “Sure.” 

The car ride for ten minutes is nothing but floundering silence, Will looking out the window from the boat docks to the more desolate areas close to their home. Hannibal glances at him as much as he can without taking his eyes off the road. It gets easier the closer they come to isolation. 

Will sighs, playing with a screw he’d picked up from the boat. 

“Need I warn you about the dangers of rusted nails?” 

Will lets out a short laugh. “Yeah I don’t think this is rust, Patina maybe.” 

“Patina is rust,” Hannibal informs, suppressing the smile tugging at his cheeks. 

“Ah hell,” Will blunders, and tosses the screw into one of the empty cup holders behind the stick shift. “Should have taken more than one medical course at Quantico.” 

“You are fortunately in good relations with a Doctor.”

“If having sex with you is being in good relations, I wonder what marriage with you would be like. Being in cahoots?” 

“You had something to tell me,” Hannibal presses, now that Will has comfortably slipped into conversation. Even so, Will’s brow furrows and he turns back to the window.

“It was something I realized a couple weeks ago,” he murmurs. 

A couple of weeks ago had been the night Will spooned him, came inside him in a manner of speaking. Hannibal had taken a shower the next morning, wondering reverently if any of Will had remained inside of his body. 

“It was a reaction you had, while we were, intimate,” Will continues, “At first I wondered if it was my business, then I told myself it was. It is my business. Our barriers vanished a long time ago, and I need to hear it from you. You’ve never been taken by a man have you?” 

Hannibal swallows, hands tightening on the wheel. 

“No, I have not. I don’t see the significance.” 

Will sighs, “You weren’t going to tell me. You were just going to let me – you were going to let me fuck you, and you weren’t going to let me have the privilege of knowing I was the first to do so.”

“I’ve slept with men, Will. Several.”

“Do you even want to?” Will asks, incredulous and mildly (predictably) jealous. “Or have you discovered a new fascination with martyrdom?” 

“Will, I’m positive my reaction from weeks ago told you how deeply I want you. I’m not sure what I can tell you to convince you of this fact,” Hannibal answers. 

He turns right and they are soon driving the long road home. 

The woods grow thicker, the plains of land wider and more expansive. 

Not seeing any oncoming cars, Hannibal turns to find Will’s face muddled with uncertainty and skepticism. His hands are folded together, fingers squirming and restless. He turns to face Hannibal and closes his eyes when he sees his sincerity. 

“I want you to make love to me, Will,” Hannibal declares and Will’s eyes shoot open, wide and blithe. “I want you to be my first. I want us to share the privilege of taking our…questionable virginities from one another.” 

Will laughs when he says that and Hannibal grins back, teeth flashing. 

“I want you to have me as I’ve had you. Not only because it is what you want, but because I want it as well.” He turns back to the road, relieved to have an excuse to avert his eyes. Waves swell within him, threatening to crash over and surrender him to tears. “I’ve never wanted that, Will. I hope you know what it means that I want it with you.” 

He turns again and Will’s lips are crashing into his. His grip on the wheel falters, and the car swerves off the road a little. Will jumps back, startled, and Hannibal regains his grip and balance with grace. 

“Shit, sorry,” Will mumbles. 

“Will, I would be honored to die with you. Even if we crash into a tree.” 

“Yeah, me not so much.” 

Hannibal turns and finds a playfulness returned to Will’s features. He nudges Hannibal with an elbow, and crooks his jaw in amusement. 

“I have unfinished business with you.” 

Hannibal sighs through his nose, facing the road with a smile. Will puts a hand on his thigh, resting and calm for the rest of the ride home. 

Will didn’t fuck him the day Hannibal picked him up from the boat. Hannibal had expected it, taken a shower before bed, but Will had curled up against his back and surrounded him with thin arms and legs, immediately drifting off into a cozy slumber. 

Hannibal had been more than happy to sink into sleep while being held, the sensation new and charming, but he was anxious to see Will’s vision unfold. 

Little did he know, it wouldn’t come until several days later. 

Will has been giving him eyes all day. He’d been watching Hannibal while he’d been playing piano, composing. He’d been watching Hannibal sketch from the living room couch, a glass of red wine in hand and dark unforgiving eyes that nearly betrayed his purpose. 

Will waits all throughout dinner, toeing at the part of Hannibal’s ankle that’s bared under the table. Hannibal glares at him and threatens him silently to bury his petulance, but Will continues. 

When the table is cleared, and the dishes put away, Will drags him in for a searing kiss. Before Hannibal can even touch him, Will shoves him up against the pantry cabinet. He reaches between them and digs the heel of his palm into Hannibal’s cock. 

Hannibal’s body comes alive and his breath gets caught in his throat. 

“Will,” he sighs, palms fluttering to his cheeks. 

Will’s hands disappear under his sweater, and before he can protest, it is being tugged over his head. “This damn red sweater, every time you wear it I swear to – ” Will’s rambling muffles when he presses his open mouth to the side of Hannibal’s neck. 

Will’s cock brushes up against his own, both clothed, but Will is so hard Hannibal is hysterically wondering how he couldn’t smell it. Then, he realizes his cologne is specifically heavy, on purpose no doubt. 

“Will, you heathen, ” Hannibal rumbles, kissing him frantically with tongue and teeth. Will kisses back just as filthy, with probing hands pinching at his nipples and the soft flesh of his tummy. 

“You’re going to let me have you,” Will tells him, kissing down his neck and thrusting against his half-hard cock to prove his resolve. “Do you understand?”

Hannibal nods, then shakes his head.

“Bedroom,” he appeals.

“I have a mind to have you here,” Will murmurs in retaliation, lost in touch. 

“Not if you don’t want my legs to give out,” Hannibal whispers playfully. He’s starting to feel gelatinous. He’ll be a puddle on the floor if Will so much as breathes on the bare skin of his cock. 

Will groans, lets out a trembling sigh and nods, dragging him by his hand to their bedroom. The red sweater is left crumpled on the floor of the kitchen, but Hannibal doesn’t give a damn. 

Will pushes him down on his back when they reach the bed and he begins to undress, deliberately and quickly all at the same time. Hannibal feels graceless for the first time in a long time as he struggles to remove his black trousers. They had always been his tightest pair; perhaps this factored into Will’s plan. 

When Will is stark naked, glorious in front of him like a Greek God, he tugs Hannibal’s clothes the rest of the way off and pounces.

Hannibal keeps his hands on Will’s shoulders as he’s kissed thoroughly. He’s kissed until his mouth feels swollen, until he can’t tell his tongue apart from Will’s. 

He kisses Will’s skin reverently, his peaked nipples when he can reach them. He doesn’t notice Will reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer. 

“I know I look confident, but I’ve never done this before. Just so your expectations aren’t high or anything,” Will says, uncapping the lube and moving back to settle between Hannibal’s thighs. 

“Will, you could take me unprepared and it would surpass any intimate experience I have shared with another person,” Hannibal responds, watching him fondly. 

“Shh,” Will hushes, blushing furiously. He’s smiling, though. 

He’s calmed down a bit, they both have. Will carefully slicks up two fingers and presses them against Hannibal’s rim. He strokes once and Hannibal swallows. “Alright?” 

“You don’t need my permission,” Hannibal says.

“No, but I want it.”

“You have permission to use my body in any way you wish. If you were to slice me open and take my heart and devour it raw, I would let you.”

Will closes his eyes, and pushes one finger in. 

“God, Hannibal, you can’t say things like that.”

Hannibal shifts, clenching experimentally around the finger. It doesn’t feel much like anything, but the fact it is an appendage of Will’s makes it one of the most brilliant sensations he’s ever felt. 

“Why not?” he asks belatedly. “Too gruesome?” 

Will shakes his head and whispers, “Because I want to,” on his lips. He slips a second finger in when Hannibal gasps. 

His pupils blow wide, and he wraps an arm around Will’s back to keep him cradled close. Hannibal tangles his fingers in his hair to draw him in for a kiss, a kiss that says yes please, tear me open. Unconsciously, his thighs fall open further. 

Will grunts in satisfaction, descending for a moment to swipe his tongue over Hannibal’s cock. It twitches and hardens, and the heat in Hannibal’s chest is building. It is a different heat, one Will has not yet drawn out of him. He wonders if he’ll come out of this with charred skin and boiled blood. 

He kisses up his body, takes one of Hannibal’s nipples between his teeth, and ghosts his mouth over other sensitive spots of his body, finally meeting him with a kiss on the lips.

“I could watch you like this for hours. Would you let me? With my fingers inside of you,” Will curls his fingers against Hannibal’s prostate making him shudder bodily. “All night long until you come or until my arm falls off.”

Hannibal’s brow creases, and he tightens his hand in Will’s hair. 

Will crooks his fingers again and he lets out a soft noise. 

“Yes. I’d let you, Will.” 

“I’m going to add a third,” Will warns him, slicking up his hand with more lube before returning to his rim to push three in all at once. Hannibal’s hips twitch up. It burns, but he’s been branded before. Pain has never been much of a bother, and this pain in particular is nothing but inviting. 

Hannibal turns his head, eyes blurring from the pleasure.

The reality that Will is going to be inside him is dawning, and it’s making him tremble. His fingers feel heavenly, nudging his prostate from within, beckoning for him to moan and writhe. He stubbornly remains still, putting up a legitimate effort to remain quiet. 

It fails when Will kisses his nose and stares at him with doe eyes. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks kindly.

Hannibal’s bottom lip starts to quiver so he sucks it into his mouth, forming a tight unwavering line, and shakes his head, refusing to look back into those soft and gentle eyes. Will’s kindness is worse than his cruelty. It is so beautifully genuine that it crashes over Hannibal like a blue flame. 

Will fucks him with his fingers for longer than necessary. So long that Hannibal believes there is an ulterior motive behind it. He wants him to beg, or at least to ask. 

Hannibal isn’t above asking. 

“I’m ready, Will. I’m not fragile.” 

“As you’ve said,” Will grumbles, thrusting harder with his fingers. 

Hannibal’s cock is fully hard now, red and curved against his stomach. Will is staring down at it, seemingly mesmerized with the way precum pools at the tip the more he prods at his inner bundle of nerves. 

Hannibal grabs Will’s arm with ferocity and Will’s gaze snaps up to meet his. 

“Now,” he demands.

Will’s lips part and he removes his hand from his body. The emptiness is instantly nerve-wracking. It’s a loss that Hannibal never anticipated to feel so cavernously empty by, but it doesn’t last long. As soon as Will lubes up his cock, he’s lining up, sliding home without any preamble whatsoever. 

Hannibal throws his head back and clutches onto Will’s shoulders. 

“Feels good, right?” Will asks, a bit smug.

Hannibal can’t slip into any sort of farce to reply haughtily, or to have the last word. He nods and hooks one of his legs around Will’s waist, driving him deeper. Will groans and Hannibal lets out a series of soft, short breaths. 

Though he’d sunk his cock deep into Hannibal’s body, he remains still.

Hannibal looks up and shifts his hips against Will’s pelvis, swallowing when Will stays where he is. He has both hands on either side of Hannibal’s head and his face is inscrutable, nothing to work with. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Hannibal assures. “And if you did, I’d welcome it.” 

He clenches hard and that does nothing but change Will’s eye color. They look black in the shadows, but Hannibal suspects they’d look the same in the light. He shifts again restlessly, but Will won’t budge. 

In a swift movement, Will leers down and licks into his mouth. Hannibal careens forward, meeting him stroke for stroke. Will sucks in a breath, jaw shifting in a way he does when he’s overwhelmed, but between the two of them, he’s the one maintaining stability. 

“Ask me to fuck you,” Will says on his lips. 

Hannibal shivers, clenching again without meaning to, and Will digs crescent shapes into the meaty flesh of his thighs. 

Cruel boy, he muses to himself. 

“Take me Will,” he pleads. “Have me.” 

“That’s not what I asked,” Will replies sternly. He leans up again to meet his gaze. Dark and unrelenting. Hannibal is going to have to say it, or Will is going to retreat. 

“Please Will,” Hannibal begins slowly, licking his lips and tasting only salt and Will, “ Fuck me. ” 

 Will’s eyes close and he rolls forward, hips moving by themselves. He curses under his breath and doesn’t stop rolling. Each movement brushes up against Hannibal’s prostate and he’s craning his head back to avoid spiraling into the abyss too soon.

Having Will inside of him, as an extension of him is far too beautiful to handle. 

“I can’t believe you said that,” Will jackhammers into him, knocking the breath out of him with every thrust. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Our insanity is one mutually experienced, I believe,” Hannibal mutters, voice thready. Another thrust of hips causes a choked moan to erupt from his throat. Will moans in response, shoving his forehead into Hannibal’s shoulder as he grips his thighs for purchase, to continue fucking into him steadily.

“ Folie à deux,” Will whispers into his skin.

“ Yes. ” 

Will sits back on his haunches, hauling Hannibal’s hips up to lay atop his thighs as he fucks him from a new angle. Hannibal closes his eyes tight, his prostate getting pounded with each and every slap of skin on skin.

He bends Hannibal’s knees forward until he’s folded almost in half, and he drapes himself over his body, thrusting into him with grunts and groans only growing in pitch. 

“Hannibal, I won’t last,” he exclaims, “Christ, you feel so good.” 

“Touch me,” Hannibal begs, tone desperate. He despises himself for it, but Will is wrapping a hand around his cock, the one still slick with lube. Hannibal’s head thrashes to the other side, and the tendons in his neck strain with the force of his impending orgasm. 

It’s never felt like this, not even with Will. 

He feels held. 

“Come with me,” Will pleads, lips finding his once more. 

They’re tangled together like vines, like threads of ivy riddling the walls of a castle. Hannibal wants to disappear inside of Will, and he wants Will to burrow inside and replace his skeleton with his own. 

In a fit of passion, Hannibal wraps both arms around Will’s back, and gyrates against him. It’s the most abandon he’s ever shown, to give himself completely over to his pleasure, but he can’t stop. He wants to sync up with Will’s movements, become him. 

“Oh,” Will breathes behind his ear and his hips stutter forward, slapping harshly against the back of Hannibal’s thighs, and then he stills. He comes deep inside of Hannibal and it feels like the first splash of blood from the cut of a blade. 

The feeling sends Hannibal hurtling over the edge, and with another nudge at his prostate, and another jerk of his cock from Will’s tired wrist, he comes across his own stomach. 

He breaths in rapidly, scratching and tugging at the skin of Will’s back as he rides through the aftershocks. Will holds him through it, now completely spent and lax. 

He remains inside of him for a few delicate seconds.

“One day I might inject you with a paralytic to keep you inside me for hours. You wouldn’t be able to move,” Hannibal murmurs when he settles, when Will finally slips out. 

“I don’t know why that doesn’t bother me,” Will says with a laugh. “Maybe it’s the honesty.” 

“Would you let me?”

It is more conversational than it is a serious question. 

“I don’t know. If you’re going to let me cut you open and eat your heart raw, I think I’m gonna have to.”

Will plops down on his side next to Hannibal and reaches up to ruffle his hair. It falls in a silly way, and he grins weakly. “Seriously, don’t wear that red sweater again unless you want to be jumped on the spot.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for when I want to be jumped on the spot,” Hannibal responds with humor. 

He’s never sated enough to feel like he can drift off to sleep immediately after he has sex, but he’s very close to feeling sated enough now. Will watches him doze with a smile.

“I take it there’s no complaints.”

“Don’t feign an innocence you do not possess. You know you are irresistible and unparalleled.” 

“Perhaps I enjoy a bit of vindication,” Will mumbles, kissing Hannibal’s shoulder. 

Though his body screeches with resistance, he turns to face Will and draws him into a chaste kiss. They nuzzle their noses together, brush lips over lips in an almost kiss, then Hannibal whispers to him lightly. 

“You have brought me to new heights of pleasure, my love. I will add this night to those of most significance. The day we met, the battle at the bluff, the first time we made love.” 

“The first time we kissed,” Will adds with tenderness. 

Hannibal knows Will adores that memory the most. He has a soft spot for it, just as he has a soft spot for boats and sailing.

“I would kill for you, I would destroy myself for you. You need only ask.”

Will shakes his head, strokes the back of his hand down Hannibal’s sternum. 

“I just want you. For the rest of time.” 

Hannibal’s eyes blaze, and he covers the hand on his chest with his own.

“You will have me.”