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La Mer

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And when the day arrives

I'll become the sky

And I'll become the sea

And the sea will come to kiss me

For I am going


Nothing can stop me now - Nine Inch Nails “La Mer”


The only way out is through, Will thinks as he floats in a warm darkness.  The only way out is through, through it all into the center of the matter.  He wants a life with Hannibal, not this farce of games and plans, cat and mouse, almost always at odds instead of actually being as they desired.  Huntsman and patient lure, similar and complementary to each other.  They could, can at their best selves, together, be symmetry in motion.  But damn their games, their competition, always having this insatiable urge to prove themselves to the other.  Their arrogance betrayed them, as it had caught many others before.  Pride goeth before a fall, and fall they did.

Straight into the cold, cold water below.  Who knew where Hannibal was?  Will didn’t.

They separated as they fell, no matter how tight they had clung.  All for naught.  Will was dying a fisherman’s death in the bosom of the sea.  He knew the water was like ice, but that feeling is fleeting, when you’re completely submerged.  Will felt only the warmth, and the pain of holding his breath, his lungs straining for the air that he could not reach.  Will knew he could hold his death for a while, but a while is not forever.  It’s cold and it’s dark, and he can’t see.  Will’s chest hurts, feels as if his heart is about to burst out of his chest, and if he could just find Hannibal then maybe this wouldn’t feel so bad to be dying here.

It’s poetic, and Hannibal would certainly appreciate the drama of it, dying in the arms of his beloved, but that is not this life.  Will’s vision begins to spot, on the verge of passing out from the effort of holding his breath under the water for so very long.

Maybe the next, Will thinks, as he gasps and then the water takes him.


Will wakes up in a pool of sweat, gasping as if he’s broken the surface and taking deep breaths as he fights himself free of tangled covers and sits up.  He’s in his old home, in Wolf Trap.  He was drowning though, Will knows he was drowning, literally, and now maybe he’s drowning figuratively too.  He had died.  

There was no one able to save him, and likely Hannibal met the same fate.  There was no question of this, no matter how many sedate laps Hannibal liked to do to keep in shape.  The sea was a wild goddess, and she got her due.  A riptide had caught Will and though he had swam out of it eventually, he had gotten pulled far, and lost all sense of direction when he came out.  Will knows that he hadn’t made it out of the sea.  Those last moments before he lost consciousness were seeing nothing but water all around him, no floor, no sense of the sky nor the shore.  Will fell into the water, and Will drowned probably five minutes later.

What kind of Hell was this?  Will doesn’t know, but there is only one way to find out it seems to be.  He moves out of the bed, his limbs heavy and unwieldy, and he goes to grab his phone, and then he sees.  He sees exactly what kind of Hell this could be stretching in front of him.  Because today is the start of it all.  This is the day that Jack drags Will into the Minnesota Shrike case.  This is the day that sets in motion everything.  This is the day that will change everything, although before, Will hadn’t had a clue how significant it would prove to be.

Will feels as if he's still underwater.  But this is not the calm warmth of giving up, this is the cold shock of hitting the water.  If you could live life again, what would you change?  It was one of humanity’s eternal questions.  One they rumination on again and again, and Will would get to live it.  It seemed like a fairy tale, one of the old ones, not the kind told much anymore.  Why bother with living the same life again?  That teacup shattered and could never be put back together the same way.  This is before, why not try to avoid repeating the same mistakes as before?  Will is here now, and Will is able.  Play the game to a different end, to secure a future instead of self imposed exile, then death just when things finally started to look like they could be worked through.  So much to do though, and for some he had to go through the motions, as much as possible.  Couldn’t let the wrong people catch on to the predators in their midst.  

Today is the day after all.  Jack will corner Will after his class, poking and prodding trying to see what those stimuli will tell him about Will Graham.  Good Old Uncle Jack will care enough about Will to try and protect him from shattering under the weight of all the derangement that Will sees thanks to Jack’s cases, but in trying to protect Will he will unknowingly bring Will’s doom.  He will give the wrecking ball itself unfettered access to everything, Will, the cases, and Hannibal will take and break everything handed to him like a petulant child, assured that life will bring him new toys when he’s destroyed the old beyond repair.

For some things though, Will knows he will have to head off the games at the beginning.  The encephalitis would not be allowed to progress to Will’s brain on fire, him unable to tell what’s real and what’s not.  Will would not be another broken plaything to Hannibal, even if just for a while.  He was not here to allow himself to deteriorate just to amuse Hannibal and his god complex.  Will was here to build something with Hannibal.  Something new, maybe a life worth living for himself.

Will knows Hannibal now.  He’s not some blind maiden venturing into the woods alone.  Will knows the deepest waters of Hannibal’s psyche, his drives, his motivations.  Hannibal wants what most want.  His desires are not so different from any other human’s.  Hannibal wants to be seen.  He wants to have a connection, understanding.  He’s been waiting for someone to show themselves as an equal to him, and Will became that.  Will is that equal that Hannibal has been searching for, had been longing for.  He’s the other side of Hannibal’s coin, and Will cannot wait for that knowledge to become known to Hannibal.  It will be a glorious reunion for Will, and it will be the dawning of a new age in Hannibal’s life.


Will is glad that so few are able to catch even a glimmer of his inner moods.  They only ever see what he wants them to see, and that has always suited Will.  He’s eager for this lecture to come to an end, for Jack’s interruption, even if dear old Uncle Jack can’t know.  He can’t see that Will wants this.  Will wants this, he wants to see Hannibal again, it gnaws inside of him, like how hunger does when you’re starving.  Will is starving; Hannibal is the feast.

What a feast it will be after a long famine and a brief taste before his death.

Will was different than the first time, as the old maxim goes, “Those who can't, teach.”  But cliches become cliches because they are true.  Will had been too unstable for the FBI and maybe too unstable for normal human contact.  He showed up each day for the criminal psychology class he taught at Quantico, but did not interact with the students.  He stands in a darkened lecture hall, showing them slide after slide, and he talked at them, not to them.  He did not want to know his students.  At this point the first time around, he didn't really want to know anyone anymore.  Being at home and playing with his dogs, the only comfort, the only family he had those days was all Will had to look forward to when his day teaching ended.

Will hadn’t had a partner, or even a one night stand in years at this point.  He’s not even sure if the people he worked with realized that Will had ever functioned enough to have a relationship of any kind.

He’d had problems disengaging from the thoughts of the killers he hunted.  He had problems with sleep, with remembering to eat, and any stray dog I happened upon became a part of my pack.  Will had been a complete mess, and the encephalitis had only been the tip of the iceberg.

Will had needed an anchor, but there was not one to be found.  He was too dark by many’s measure.  Will had seen too much of the darker sides of human nature to ever find himself in the sunlight again.

Will spots Jack standing at the back of the lecture hall, giving him a look.  He wants Will to wrap it up, and dismiss the students.  He has something that’s urgent to share, after all.  This is when he brings me in to start the investigation that ends with me killing Garret Jacob Hobbs, and saving Abigail.

Will clears his throat, “Class is dismissed.  Bring in your write ups of how you would have used the evidence at hand to catch the killer to the next class.”  He never took questions, either the students would understand and do the work, or they would fail.  It would probably be better for them in the long run if they fail.  They will live happier lives if they don't see the ugliness that killers paint with corpses.  It would probably have been better for me if I hadn't had the ability to see the ugliness that lives within the human psyche just by observation.

Jack walks down the stairs to my desk as I'm packing up my notes into my briefcase.   He skips a greeting, as to him, they are just wasted time when you could be getting on to more important parts of the conversation, “Will we've got a killer that we need your help catching.”  He looks me over, “We think he's taken another victim.”  Jack pauses and looks me over, looking for signs that I am listening, despite the lack of traditional cues, like eye contact.  “We could use your help.”

Jack begins to walk out of the room, expecting me to follow, expecting his command to make me roll over and do what he wants me to do.

It works.

Will knows where this will lead him.  Eyes open, feet first, no plan of a safety net this time.

Will follows him out of the lecture hall, down the corridors of the facilities, to the office of the Behavior Science Unit.  He doesn't speak again until we are inside of his office.  There are pictures of several pretty girls, brown hair, brown eyes, slightly chaffed skin, all college age.  All looking like they were picked because they looked like someone else, someone important to the killer, even if no bodies have turned up yet, it's highly unlikely they are still alive, when the first was taken over eight months ago.

Will knows these girls are dead, and he knows who the golden ticket is, but that’s not something he can just say to Jack.  The evidence backs up his inferences, but this time Will has more than his gift to rely upon.  He has the gift of hindsight, and everything is made much clearer with hindsight’s benefit.

Jack considers Will, then he speaks again, “What do you see?”  A simple statement.  A simple statement that is so much more complex through the lens Will views the world through now.  

It’s easier to repeat myself, “He is reliving something, he is searching for something.”  A deep breath, to calm, to center, “The golden ticket.  There is one girl that is the template for all the others.”  Will studies each of the snapshots, looking like he’s thinking about what he’s saying before he says it, “It won't be the first,” I glance at the latest picture, “or the last.”  Will shakes his head, “But there is something that these girls represent to him.  He is looking for the perfect one, or recreating her.”  

Jack considers Will’s response, “Do you know which?”

“Not yet,” Will smirks a little inside because he knows the answer is none of these girls, but maybe he can save the golden ticket, from both her father and Hannibal.  “But show me more, and I will.”


Things have been the same so far.  Seeing Jack, the boring flight to Minnesota, then finding Elise Nichols tucked gently into her bed.  When Will is coming back home to Wolf Trap after his first visit to Minnesota, he finds Winson again, and that is another gift that this has given him.

That night there is the first change.  Will doesn’t dream of Elise next to him.  Instead he dreams of being wrapped in velvet darkness, next to Hannibal.


A few days later is when Jack finally brings them together.  Will doesn’t act the same. He can’t bring himself to completely avoid Hannibal’s eyes this time.  He glances into them once before looking back to the ground.  It feels like it’s been forever, even though it’s only been a few days since Will woke up.

Hannibal is himself as always, wearing his very carefully constructed person suit, but unable to resist poking at Will, trying to find Will’s soft underside.  It’s just who Hannibal is, Will knows.  But the poking reminds Will that this is also not his Hannibal.  Not yet.  They changed each other.  This Hannibal is still very much the lone wolf.  This Hannibal is very much the spoiled child, glutted on treats, thinking that he is the only apex predator in the room.

Hannibal’s wrong though, but it won’t be too long before he finds out.  Will will show Hannibal what he is.

Will can’t help but to comment on Freddie Lounds though, she has always been and will always be a completely tasteless bitch, chasing ambulances to get hits for her trashy articles, no matter who she runs over in the process.  “Tasteless.”

“Do you often have trouble with taste?”

“My thoughts are often not tasty.” Will spits out.

Hannibal’s reply is soft, “Nor mine.”  Hannibal sits next to Will and sips his coffee, “Do you often have problems with eye contact?”

Will laughs softly, somewhat bitterly, “Eyes are distracting.  See too much, you don’t see enough, and it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking about are those whites really white?  Is it hepatitis or a burst vessel?”

Hannibal looks smug, he always looks somewhat smug, but Will hadn’t noticed the first time, too busy with avoiding eye contact and building forts to hide himself in.  “I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.”
Will knows last time this is when he got angry and shortly stormed out.  He hadn’t liked Hannibal trying to psychoanalyze him, he’d never liked it when people tried to get under his skin.  

Instead of trying that route again, Will makes himself laugh it off.  “Maybe you’re right Doctor Lecter.  I push everyone away because I know that the ugliness in the world has a refuge in my mind, and no one would want to be exposed to the ugliness that lives inside of me.”  Will stands up from the chair.  “In any case, I have to go.  I have a lecture to give.” He holds his hand out to Hannibal, “I will see you again, Doctor Lecter.”  Hannibal’s handshake is firm, polite, everything a gentleman’s handshake should be, as carefully constructed as Hannibal’s person suit.  It makes Will’s heart beat like a frantic bird caught in a cage to touch Hannibal again, even if this is just an impersonal handshake, to Will it’s a promise.  

A promise to show Hannibal exactly who Will is.


It’s a week before Cassie Boyle’s body turns up.  Will spends the time waiting, and working on his own plans.  He sees a doctor, and manages to convince them of the tests that Will knows will show that his brain is already catching fire, then starts a treatment plan to put it out.

Will also spends his time thinking about the other killers that will come.  He hates Tobias Bulge a little, for daring to think that he could be Hannibal’s match, when he was at best a pale imitation of the brilliance of the symphony that Hannibal conducted.  

Maybe this wannabe suitor of Hannibal’s could be Will’s first gift to Hannibal.

Will isn’t sure yet, what he’s going to do, but it’s only fair that Hannibal’s first gift to be a body, when Hannibal’s first gift to Will is Cassie Boyle’s death, allowing Will see the negative of Hobbs, so he could see exactly what Hobb’s design was.

When Will sees Cassie Boyle, it’s as brutal of a sight as it was the first time.  You can tell that Hannibal had no love inside him for her, she was just a rude pig to him.  Meat to put on the table, meat probably fed to Will in the protein scramble that Hannibal will bring to Will’s room tomorrow.  Will wishes he had access to Hannibal’s kitchen right now, just so he could see him work.  It is rather impressive that no one ever noticed that his meat was nothing like what Hannibal’s dinner guests had been served before.

Will tells Jack and the team working the crime scene that this is not their killer.  This is someone else, someone who will not kill this way again, and that they probably will not catch.  If only they knew.  

Jack sends Will back to the hotel again, like Will is a child and incapable of caring for himself, but this time it doesn’t feel like a slight.  This time Will knows he has a breakfast date to look forward to.


The knock is expected.  Will still answers the door in his undershirt and boxers, because at this early hour it is expected for him to still be in bed, and maybe a little because he wants to show himself off for Hannibal.

Hannibal looks perfectly put together, his suit is neat, somewhat stylish, but not so outrageous as some of Hannibal’s clothing choices tend to be.  “Good morning, Will.  May I come in?”

“Where’s Crawford?”

“Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today. May I come in?”

Will moves to allow Hannibal entrance, and Hannibal quickly begins to set the table with the utensils he’s brought, pulling out several neatly stacked tupperware containers of food.  “I’m very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage.”

Will digs into it, like he hasn’t eaten in days, “Mmm, it’s delicious, thank you,” he mumbles between bites.

“My pleasure.”

Will eats some more while Hannibal does the same, watching Hannibal all the while.  “This sausage tastes like nothing I’ve had before.  What kind of sausage is this?”  Will can’t help but to return Hannibal’s past prodding, with a little bit of some prodding of Will’s own.  

Hannibal doesn’t miss a beat, he is rarely ruffled by anything, and this is also no different, “My own blend, I make them myself, and the spice recipe is an old family secret, so I fear I must leave you in the dark on that.”

Will laughs, “If you told me, you’d have to kill me, huh?”

Hannibal nods, very seriously, and most would take this as a joke, but Will knows it is the stark cold truth, “I would.”

Oh the irony, Will knows now.  

“Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters?”

“Agent Crawford would also tell you that I am nearly too broken to function, but yes, I have a knack for the monsters.  I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field.”

“The devil is in the details.  What didn’t your copycat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?”

“Everything. It’s like he had to show me a negative so that I could see the positive.”  Will meets Hannibal’s eyes.  “That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped.”

“Gift-wrapped, you say?”

“Yes.”  Will eats another bite of his food, “I think that the copycat killer left that body for me, so I could see.”

“Hmm,” Hannibal hums, and then says, “Finish your food, Will.”

Will continues eating, trying to think of what to say, too early to say what he’d really want to say.  It’d come across as a little more unbalanced than he’d want to seem to Hannibal to tell him everything now, when they’ve really just met.  But this is a beginning too, and it’s a better one than picking a fight with Hannibal each time they meet until Will starts to bend under Hannibal’s gentle pressure.

Hannibal is smiling as he watches Will eat.

“What are you smiling at?” Will questions Hannibal.  Will knows that it’s probably just Hannibal being amused at feeding Cassie Boyle to him, while he thinks that Will is blind to what he is, but similar paths will lead them to where they need to be.

“Peeking behind the curtain. I’m just curious how the FBI goes about its business when it’s not kicking in doors?”

Will laughs again, it feels good to be able to laugh again.  It really had been a while.  “You’re lucky we’re not doing house-to-house interviews. We found a little piece of metal in Elise Nichols’ clothes, a shred from a pipe threader.”

“There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.”

A certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating, so we’re checking all the construction sites that use that kind of pipe.”

“What are we looking for?”

“At this stage, anything really. But mostly, anything peculiar.”


Will thumbs through the files, looking for Hobbs’ file, knowing that it is Will’s golden ticket.  Ah, there it is, unassuming and not completed, the red flag that spells Hobbs’ downfall.

This time, Will could stop Hannibal, maybe should stop Hannibal, but it worked out in the end last time.  Abigail survives, and thrives for a while, until Will makes Hannibal so angry that he destroys everything he’d tried to build to entice Will to his side.  This time they can skip that.

Will had thought he would stop Hannibal from warning Hobbs, but now that he’s in the moment, Will finds that he doesn’t want to.

He wants what Hannibal promised, and well, if Abigail’s mother survives, Abigail doesn’t end up under their influence.

So when Hannibal tips the papers off the box onto the ground, Will says “I’ve got it,” and lets Hannibal go back inside to make his phone call and play his game.


They pull up to the Hobbs residence.

Things follow the same path.  The door opens as they are walking up and Garret Jacob Hobbs pushes his dying wife out the door before slamming it shut.  Will doesn’t stop to check on her this time.  He steps over her terrified body as she’s busy bleeding out on her own front stoop, part of a nightmare that she had no clue about.  Will is going for what’s inside.

Still not quite quick enough.  Hobbs already has his daughter caught, the knife held to her throat.  Will knows his thoughts, if I can’t keep her, then no one can have her.  The mantra of the possessive abusive souls that think that they can own someone completely, that their wants and wishes are the most important facet of existence.  Blood spurts out of Abigail’s throat as Hobbs doesn’t hesitate.  Will doesn’t hesitate either, and this time one neat shot hits his throat.  Will watches him fall dispassionately.  This is just a means to an end, Will grabs a towel from the stove and holds it to Abigail’s neck, while Hannibal just lurks behind him, watching.

Watching is one of Hannibal’s favorite pastimes after all.

Wind them up and watch them go.


The aftermath is the same, Abigail is in a temporary coma, and Hannibal Lecter is interested in knowing more about Will.


The owner of a string shop is found strung up by his own strings, turned into a grotesque instrument that will haunt the people who found the grisly display’s nightmares.  Will gets to walk the crime scene, and think about the care that went into the act. Budge is suspended in his shop, his arms reaching upwards bearing a bouquet of flowers.  Will picked the flowers with care.  Twelve blooms in the bouquet in total, a mix of red and purple carnations, with red roses, arranged around a hothouse orchid, to tell Hannibal how he feels.  He hopes Hannibal will recognize the care he took in picking the flowers.  Will had poured over books on flowers before he settled for what he chose.  The arrangement says that he deeply loves and admires Hannibal’s mature refinement and capriciousness, at least according to Will’s cursory search for flower language.  Will cracked open Budge’s neck, and thinks he will make a good sound now that he’s been treated.  On a cursory glance, Will is hoping that the FBI will take this as a Chesapeake Ripper kill, even if the Ripper himself will know that it was not.


Will goes to his first official meeting at Hannibal’s office.  The office is still the intimidating edifice to Hannibal’s artifice, as it’s ever been.  Will has always found it amusing that Hannibal keeps the tissues next to his chair, to force his patients to ask for them, a small power play that Hannibal cannot resist, even though he has to know that it a tiny red flag, showing how Hannibal really doesn’t care about his patients, his only concern is control.

Hannibal is standing at his desk, ruffling through some papers, while Will explores the titles that Hannibal felt were good enough to display in his office.

“What are those?”  Will asks to move the conversation along.

“Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane.” Hannibal smirks, “Well done.” 

Will laughs at Hannibal’s familiar audacity, “Did you just rubber stamp me?”

“Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn’t break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.”

“Unobstructed by paperwork, aka, not on the books as a patient of yours, Doctor Lecter.”

“Yes, I thought we could try something a little more friendly than a doctor/patient relationship.”

Will laughs, “Hannibal, I’m not sure that you can grasp the meaning of friendship or doing something without an ulterior motive.”

Will knows he is skirting the edges, and to be honest, Will doesn’t care.  It’s hard to tread the familiar paths of the past, knowing that they could be so much more.  Will wants to just come clean, wants to scream from the balcony that he knows Hannibal.

“Why, Will, I am hurt.”  Hannibal gestures at Will, “Look at what I’m doing for you.  You will be able to continue your work without interference now.”

“Without interference?”  Will laughs again, “Hannibal, I don’t think anything I do now will be without your interference now.”  Will climbs down the ladder and moves closer to Hannibal.  “I think you want to know and touch all the parts of my life,” Will moves into Hannibal’s personal space.  “I think if cracking my skull open would tell you, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

Hannibal looks at Will.  He looks deeply, and Will lets Hannibal catch his eyes.  Hannibal’s eyes are dark pools, flat and cold, with so much going on under the surface that even Will’s gifts struggle to see what he is thinking at times.  Will lets him look, and neither can pull away caught in each other’s gaze.

“The cliff,” Hannibal pauses, “Do you remember?”

Will starts, a shock going through him.  “The Red Dragon.”

Hannibal’s face is no longer impassive.  “Yes, Will, do you remember?”

Will nods slowly, “I do.”

Those words bring a slow smile to Hannibal’s face.

Things are better than alright now in Will’s world.  He’s not alone, not with some nascent version of Hannibal that hasn’t lived a life impacted by Will.  This is like a dream, this is like a fairy tale, and maybe it is one of the ones with a happy ending.

They are both here, together.

They are both alive again, in the past, after dying.

Will moves to stand above Hannibal, looking down at him before he reaches to cup his hand against Hannibal’s face feeling the warmth of his skin, the ghost of his breathing, how very alive that Hannibal and him once again find themselves to be.

Will tilts down to Hannibal’s face, and presses their lips together.

This kiss feels like dying again, desperate and gleeful, and a little bit cruel as Will nips hard at Hannibal’s bottom lip, drowning in getting to kiss Hannibal again without the threat of law enforcement coming to arrest them both for their crimes.

This kiss is homecoming, sharp teeth and the taste of blood when one of them nips a bit too hard.  Will pants and lowers himself down until he’s straddling Hannibal’s lap, while still kissing as if the kisses were the breaths that could have saved them from drowning in their last life.

Will pulls back from kissing Hannibal, and meets Hannibal’s eyes again.  “The teacup has come back together, Hannibal.  Don’t break it.”  Will strokes Hannibal’s cheek.  “We know what we are now, don’t we?”  Will kisses Hannibal again deeply, slowly before pulling away and finishing, “We’re predators.”

“We are also men, and I will work together with you Will.”  Hannibal reaches up and grips Will’s wrist tightly, “I will build a life with you this time, instead of wrecking both our lives to gain you.”

Will exhales because this was all he needed to hear from Hannibal, maybe it’s even more than he expected to hear from Hannibal, as Hannibal had always been a closed off sort of man.  Promising to work with Will and build a life together was everything.  “Thank you.”  Will leans back in and starts kissing Hannibal again, this time unhurried, knowing that they now have all the time left in the world to figure out where to go from here and what they want out of a life together.  Perhaps retirement in Florence could be in the cards for the two of them.

Hannibal pulls back from kissing Will, “As much as like the position of you in my lap, maybe we could move from my office to a more comfortable location?”  Hannibal tilts his head, “Maybe to my bed?”

“It’s a brave new world, Hannibal,” Will moves off of Hannibal’s lap and reaches his hand out to Hannibal to assist him up, “Lead the way.”

Hannibal doesn’t let go of Will’s hand and leads him out of the office area to other areas of the house.  Will follows Hannibal quietly.

When they reach the bedroom, Will takes his chance and pushes Hannibal backwards onto the bed before quickly climbing on top of him and going straight back to kissing Hannibal with the same insistent desire that had driven him in their first wild kisses.  This time though, Will allowed his hands to wander instead of chastely cupping Hannibal’s cheek.  Will ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, messing up his perfectly styled hair, then ran his hands down Hannibal’s neck and around to the front to begin fumbling with undoing Hannibal’s tie with one hand, while the other worked at pulling Hannibal’s shirt out of his trousers.

Will is ravenous.  He wants to touch and taste and feel everything.  He wants to lose himself so thoroughly in Hannibal that he forgets where the boundaries between them are.  Will wants to know every single thing he didn’t know about Hannibal before this, he wants to know what Hannibal enjoys.  In some ways, Will knows that he even wants to learn what he enjoys.  His solitary life and then not so successful marriage to Molly had not left him very familiar with his own wants and desires.  Will had always learned to turn those off, and just let the other partner have their fun.  “Hannibal, I want to know every single part of you.”  Will stops fumbling with Hannibal’s clothes and sits back on his knees still straddling Hannibal, but this time closer and Will can feel that Hannibal is not exactly adverse.

“And I you, dear Will.”  Hannibal reaches up and undoes his tie, making fast work of the complicated knot that had eluded Will’s distracted fumblings.  Hannibal chuckles and grabs Will’s hips and grinds Will’s ass against his erection.  “I will yield to your desires tonight, and you will yield to mine tomorrow night, and we will continue doing so long past when we simply know each other.”

Will starts undoing his own clothes, shrugging off his jacket, then popping the buttons of his shirt one by one watching Hannibal’s face and the open emotions displayed on it.  Hannibal looks happy and excited, and it already feels like they are mirroring each other perfectly.  Will is just as eager as Hannibal.  Why deprive themselves, when instead they can feast?  Will’s shirt is tossed carelessly off to the side, and Hannibal is still just reclined comfortably underneath him, propped on his elbows smirking and smug, and observant as Will sheds his layers revealing what he hides underneath his clothes.

Will sits still for a moment stripped bare of his shirt, and allows Hannibal to drink in the sight, but Will is impatient now, with the person he’s wanted the most spread out beneath him, waiting for him to restart their play.

No point in waiting any longer, Will thinks as he leans back down to capture Hannibal’s lips again.  He licks his way past Hannibal’s lips tasting the traces of blood from their violent kisses earlier.  The urge to hurt has left Will though.  He just wants to sink into this and see where it will lead him.  Will moans as he kisses Hannibal, softly this time, and grinds himself against Hannibal’s cock again, before he sneaks a hand down between their bodies, and opens Hannibal’s belt, then undoes his slacks.  Will’s hand slides into Hannibal’s pants seeking out Hannibal’s cock, feeling heated flesh ready for whatever Will has planned.  Will gives Hannibal’s cock a soft squeeze and pulls back and away to fumble this time with his own pants, sliding them down to his knees, then further down and away, lost to the edges of the bed as Will hastily kicks his pants and underwear off.

He’s fully exposed on top of Hannibal now, and Hannibal is still mostly dressed.  Will hadn’t expected it to be a kink for him, but seeing Hannibal disheveled, well it does in fact do something for Will’s libido.  Will laughs and wraps his hand around Hannibal’s cock again, lightly stroking it, “You’re at my mercy now.”

“And what kind of mercy are you planning on showing me tonight?”

“None,” Will bites his lip, then moves to kiss Hannibal’s lips one more time before moving lower, trailing sloppy kisses down Hannibal’s exposed throat.  Will speaks again, “But I don’t think you’ll mind what I’ve got in mind for us tonight.”  When Will finishes speaking he is face level with Hannibal’s now weeping cock.  Will pops the head of Hannibal’s cock in his mouth, and sucks as hard as he can, feeling as his cheeks hollow from his efforts, and feeling as Hannibal’s entire body tenses as Will works his mouth down, trying to see exactly how much of Hannibal’s cock he can take in his throat before he has to stop.  Will only makes it halfway down, but chalks it up as a respectable effort, and Hannibal doesn’t exactly seem to mind by the way his breathing has sped up and the grip he’s currently exerting on the now crumpled bedding.

Will smirks to himself as he holds his mouth down as far as he can go on Hannibal’s cock and starts trying to make himself drool.  He’s always thought a blow job was far more enjoyable if it was sloppy.  Hannibal gasps when Will adds his hand and begins to move both his hand and his mouth on Hannibal’s member.  Will keeps at it, but keeps his pace languid enough that it’s more of a tease than a true satisfaction to Hannibal.  

Stroking lightly, but steadily, Will tightens his grip on Hannibal’s cock, and pulls back from his ministrations with his mouth to look at Hannibal, at his mercy finally, vulnerable heart exposed by the way he watches Will with open wonder and adoration.  It’s a heady feeling, but it’s still not quite enough for Will though.  “Do you have any lube?”

“Of course, my greedy boy,” Hannibal laughs as he reaches into the drawer next to the bed and pulls out a small glass bottle to hand over to Will’s grasping hands.  Will pops the tops and pours a generous amount on his hand before returning it to stroking lightly at Hannibal’s cock, and sitting the bottle down.  Will switches hands on Hannibal’s cock and moves to touch himself.  He ignores his own cock weeping precum and reaches behind his balls to start rubbing his entrance.  Teasing and playing lightly, he quickly moves to push one finger coated with lube inside himself.  As soon as the first finger is in, Will pushes a second one in, scissoring his fingers and working himself back and forth on them, getting himself ready for Hannibal.  Will pants as he pushes a third and fourth finger inside of himself at the same time, “Ugggh, Hannibal, I’m going to be ready for you soon.”  Will leans forward and clumsily kisses Hannibal again, as he fingers his hole open.  Will can feel the precum dripping from his cock, falling onto Hannibal’s fancy suit.  

“I think I’m ready.”  Will stops fingering himself and moves so that he’s hovering over Hannibal’s cock with his hand holding the head of it against his now throbbing hole.

Will lowers himself down, the head aches as it pushes past the ring of muscles, but the burn continues all the way down, until Will’s ass is flush against Hannibal’s pelvis and his entire cock is buried as deeply as it can naturally go.  It’s not uncomfortable though.  It doesn’t feel good yet, just weird to have someone this deep inside of him.  Will pushes up slowly, as Hannibal caresses his hips and helps to steady him, and yes, now it’s starting to feel like more than just the weird sensation of fullness.  Will pushes himself back down again, then rises picking up the pace as he does.  Each movement makes Will’s cock bounce up against his stomach.  Will shifts slightly and this time when he comes down on Hannibal’s cock he sees stars as Hannibal hits his prostate.  Will groans, “There, Hannibal right there.”  Will’s thighs shake as he rises again but this time when he’s lowering himself Hannibal takes a little more initiative and pushes himself up to meet Will’s movements.  From there they go wild, moving quickly, grasping desperately at each other as Will pants and starts to lean forward until his forehead is resting against Hannibal’s as their pants and moans intwine as they both get closer to going over another edge of a sort together.  Will hasn’t even really touched his own cock at all, but he can still feel the pressure building in his gut as Hannibal continues to enthusiastically fuck into Will’s very being.  

Will’s entire body tenses and then he’s shooting ropes of cum, while bonelessly slumping as Hannibal continues to relentlessly pound into Will.  Hannibal’s breathing is loud in Will’s ear as he grunts before he too finishes, and shoots his cum into Will.

Will is boneless and tired, but despite being spent Hannibal is not quite done with him.  Hannibal lifts Will off of his deflating cock, and sits Will up against the pillows next to Hannibal.  “Will,” Hannibal croons, “You’re a very greedy boy, but you still have much to learn on the subject of enjoying life.”  Hannibal rolls over and moves between Will’s thighs.  Hannibal laps at the traces of Will’s cum left on Will’s body, tracing kisses down his taut stomach to his limp cock, before lifting Will’s thighs onto his shoulder.  Hannibal squeezes Will’s thighs, and looks at his work on Will’s abused looking asshole, which is now red and weeping Hannibal’s cum.

Hannibal greedily buries his face in Will’s ass, licking and sucking as Will pants and cries and squirms beneath him, but tellingly never tries to get away.  Will’s hips buck when Hannibal’s tongue pushes inside him.  Will’s cock twitches, and Will wildly grasps at Hannibal’s hair as Hannibal tongues his hole clean.  “Greedy boy, this is a feast.”  

Hannibal leers at Will, “I am going to eat you out until you scream,” Hannibal rubs Will’s asshole with his thumb, “then when I am ready I am going to bend you over in half and then fuck you again.”  Hannibal pushes his thumb in Will’s hole.  “Look at how loose you are now.”  Hannibal grins, “Maybe I will fuck you so much you are still loose and ready for me tomorrow too.”  Hannibal buries his face back in Will’s hole, licking and sucking with gusto.  Will moans and thrashes more as Hannibal works at him.  It’s too much, it’s not enough and Will wants Hannibal to make good on his words and fuck him again.  

Will finally does scream though, and Hannibal pulls back to grin wolfishly at Will as he moves Will’s body as he pleases.

Will ends up with his ankles on Hannibal’s shoulders and Hannibal looming over him.  Hannibal presses down with his body, and Will finds himself almost bent in half, with Hannibal’s cock pressing against his sensitive hole again.  Hannibal pushes and then Will is breached again.  This time Will can’t move much at all, other than to grasp at Hannibal’s hair and sides.  It doesn’t really matter though, Hannibal sets his own pace, fucking Will with damn near unatural accuity.  Will is left to ride the waves of the punishing pace, taking each movement of Hannibal as it sets off stars again behind Will’s eyes, and rips moans from his lips.  Will reaches between their bodies to feel where his own cock is now once again hard and weeping.  Will strokes himself in time with Hannibal’s cock pushing in and out of himself.  Will can barely keep up, he can feel his body tensing again, with the coming of another wave pleasure from Hannibal’s thrust perfectly hitting that spot inside of him Will shoots cum again and then feels as Hannibal loses his control as Will’s ass clenches from his orgasm, and buries himself one more time to the hilt before groaning and cumming inside of Will again.

Hannibal slumps to the side and pulls Will into his arms.  He tiredly grins and lays a kiss against Will’s temple.  “Every night from now on, we will sleep beside each other.”  

Will lays back on the bed limp against Hannibal’s chest feeling his breathing as it moves him.  All of the tension Will had been carrying since he first woke up from his death has left him.  This is what peace is.  Nothing can stop them now.  Will doesn’t know what god is looking out for him and Hannibal, but he knows that he’s lucky.  You don’t normally get second chances like this, and the whole future is open before them, and Will is seizing the day today and every day of his life henceforth.