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It's rare that Will wakes up before Hannibal nowadays. That wasn't always the case. His nightmares followed him to Cuba and beyond, and still creep in from time to time.

But it's not nightmares that have him awake first this morning. It's a growing restlessness that he's become too familiar with over the years.

In Cuba, he'd spent the first four months recovering from his injuries and the next eight months trying to recapture that feeling he'd experienced the night they'd slayed the Dragon. He'd been so reckless and half out of his mind. There are portions he cannot remember. It's a miracle that he and Hannibal made out of any of it with their lives, let alone their freedom.

They'd hunted together in Havana, and later in Buenos Aires, La Planta, Mendoza, and Córdoba. None ever came close to that first hunt, but they didn't need to. They still made him feel alive and in communion with Hannibal, and that’s what matters.

They can't hunt here. El Calafate is a small, close-knit community and missing tourists would draw too much attention to the foreign couple who moved in less than a year ago. Hannibal's gift five months back had been enough of a risk.

Hannibal himself is asleep on his stomach, with his arms folded under his pillow and his head facing away from Will. He's naked, the sheet at his waist, and the ugliness of the Verger crest stands out pale and uneven against his tanned back. For everything they have done to each other, Hannibal has long been a source of peace for Will. He's even more peaceful in sleep. 

Will rolls over onto his front, closer to his husband and reaches out. He traces the musculature of the bicep, up to the shoulder, and over that awful brand. When Hannibal doesn't wake, he moves his hand down the spine and to the hip.

Will shifts, his cock hardening against the mattress, and he begins to rock. His hand slips down underneath the sheet, across the swell of buttocks, and down the thigh and back, palming the meat of it. He wants to delve between the cleft, seek out the hole, push in and—

Will stops.

"You're awake," he says with realization. "You've been awake the whole time." 

"I am," Hannibal says and turns his head on the pillow to face Will. "And I have been. Does that disappoint you?"

Will reaches up and runs his fingers through Hannibal's hair. In the seven years since the cliff house, it has gone completely gray and Hannibal now wears it loose and long, the length hitting below his ears.

"Yes," Will answers honestly. 

Hannibal takes Will's hand and kisses his knuckles. "You know that you could ask anything of me, Will. You could do anything to me, or have me do anything to you."

Will smiles. "Yes, I feel like that's been well established by now." 

Hannibal cups Will’s jaw. "What do you want?" he asks.

Will pushes aside the words he wants to say and goes for another option. "I want you to fuck me."

Will knows Hannibal can see through it, but Hannibal rolls over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. Will pushes down the bedcovers and removes his shirt and boxers. When Hannibal turns back to him, Will kisses him and pushes him against the pillows. He takes the bottle from Hannibal, pours the contents on his fingers, and pushes two inside himself. Hannibal strokes his own cock, getting himself hard while he looks at Will fucking himself. After Will is finished preparing himself, he takes over for Hannibal, slicking him up, and sinks down with a groan. He starts riding Hannibal hard, one hand braced on Hannibal's chest and the other working furiously on his cock.

Will closes his eyes, focusing on the thighs slapping against his ass and the rough chest hair beneath his palm. The slide of the hard cock inside him is so good, and he angles his hips until it strokes his prostate with every thrust. 

"Will," comes a voice and then there are hands on his hips, startling him out of his daze.

He opens his eyes and sees Hannibal looking up at him, an assessing look on his face.

Will huffs out a laugh. "Are we really going to do this right now, Doctor?" He groans as Hannibal's hand joins his on his cock, the palm of it rubbing across the sensitive, wet head. 

"Yes," Hannibal answers. "Where were you just now, Will?" 

"I was here. I am here, Christ." Will shudders as Hannibal's other hand caresses his sack, already drawing tight. He's so close.

"What do you want, Will?" Hannibal asks again, taking over stroking Will completely. Will's hand drops to his thigh.

"What do you want, Hannibal?" Will parrots back, fully aware he's playing right into Hannibal's hands.

Hannibal smiles. "I want you to drug me and have me. I want you to have me in the ways you won't allow yourself to have your gifts. I want you to use me, Will."

"Fuck," Will gasps, coming suddenly, his release streaking Hannibal's stomach. Hannibal's hand pulls every last drop out of him. 

His breathing unsteady, Will rubs his come across the hair on Hannibal's belly and chest. He braces himself there as he continues to rock on Hannibal's cock, still trying to scratch that itch. If anything, Hannibal's words give more fuel to his restlessness. 

"Will," Hannibal says, his hands going to Will's waist and his own movements slowing. 

Will shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Keep going," he says and Hannibal starts to pick the pace back up.

"It feels so good, Christ," Will says and falls forward onto Hannibal's chest, his mouth open and pressed against Hannibal's neck. 

Hannibal pulls at the back of Will's thighs, bringing Will up further. Will groans as Hannibal's fingers rub his sore rim as he continues to fuck into him. Will nips at Hannibal's ear and is rewarded with a sharp thrust.

"Hannibal," Will gasps as a finger slips alongside Hannibal's cock. "Fuck, please," Will says against Hannibal's cheek, his lips pricked by stubble. "Please just, God," he cries out as Hannibal adds another finger. "Please," he says again and Hannibal pulls at his rim, stretching him wider. "Hannibal, please. Use me first."

Hannibal groans. He withdraws his fingers and pushes Will off him, leaving Will feeling empty. It doesn't last long. Hannibal rearranges Will's body how he wants him, leaving Will with his ass high in the air, his legs spread wide, and his face pushed down into the sheets. Hannibal grips Will's hips and pulls him back onto his cock. He starts up a punishing rhythm and Will has no option other than to take it.

Will's hands twist the sheets as the new angle puts more pressure on his already tender prostate. It skirts the edge between pleasure and pain, and Will gives himself over to it, letting the chips fall wherever they may.

Hannibal's thrusts soon become erratic and he pulls Will up and back into his lap, Will's calves bracketing Hannibal's. Will grunts as Hannibal wraps his arms around him and pushes in as deep as possible, his thrusts shallow and unrelenting. Will's glad Hannibal has a firm grip, because he is certain he'd be unable to hold himself upright if not. His hands slip in the sweat coating Hannibal's arms as he takes hold, his head falling back onto Hannibal's shoulder. 

Groaning, Hannibal thrusts hard once more before stilling, his arms going tighter around Will. Hannibal holds him close, kissing his jaw before Will finds himself gently lowered to the bed. He winces when Hannibal withdraws, feeling the simultaneous need to remain filled and to not be on the receiving side again anytime soon.

Will doesn't register Hannibal leaving the room but he must have at some point, because glasses of water and orange juice are set on the nightstand, along with a tray of fresh fruit and toast. 

Will feels a warm cloth sweep across his back and down his thighs before cleaning between. Hannibal is exceptionally gentle, but Will still winces when it crosses over his hole.

Hannibal kisses Will's shoulder. "Can you sit up?"

Will nods. "Yeah." It hurts a little, but he's learned from prior experience to let the pillows at his back take his weight. Hannibal covers Will’s lap with the sheet. 

Will downs the water and half the orange juice before starting in on the toast. 

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" Hannibal asks.

"In a little while, thanks." Will picks up a piece of apple and eats it before continuing. "Hannibal, did you mean what you said earlier?"

"Of course," Hannibal says, taking a slice of apple himself. "Let me know when you're ready. I have everything we'd need." He pops the apple into his mouth, a twist on his lips.

Will chuckles. "Of course you do." He drinks the remainder of the orange juice before carefully sitting more upright. "Come here."

Hannibal does and they meet in the middle. Will hums into the kiss before parting. "About that bath."


Two weeks later, plagued by night after night of sleeplessness and increasing irritability, Will is near a breaking point. He leaves their home after breakfast for a long walk with the dogs in yet another attempt to physically relieve the tension and noise he feels in his mind. He's not successful. 

It's late into the afternoon when Hannibal finds him sitting on their front porch, staring off into the distance, trying to find some peace in the icecap mountains and the still of Lago Argentino. Hannibal sits beside him and Will leans into him, burying his face into the crook of Hannibal's neck. Hannibal’s arms enclose around him.

“Can I use you tonight?” Will whispers.

Hannibal tightens his hold and Will feels him nod. "Give me a few hours to prepare. How do you want me?"

Will thinks of the morning the offer was made, of the long lines of Hannibal back and the swell of his ass. "On your front,” Will answers, drawing back. “How long will it last?"

"The pills take about 30 minutes to sedate me. After an hour, I won’t be aware of anything for another four,” Hannibal says.

“And you’ve done this before,” Will confirms.

“Yes, though not to myself.” Hannibal doesn’t elaborate and Will doesn’t ask him to.

Will swallows. “Is there anything off limits?” He knows the answer already, but he needs to hear it.

“No," comes the expected reply.

“Okay.” Will kisses him. "I'll help you with dinner."


After they eat and clean up, Hannibal leaves Will to have his two fingers of whiskey by himself in the den. He hears the water in the bath turn on and later off, and waits another hour before he makes his way to their bedroom.

His breath catches when he crosses the threshold.

Hannibal has laid himself out like one of his gifts. 

His nude body lies prone across their bed, his skin dewy with scented oils. Will can distinguish sage and perhaps bergamot this time around. Hannibal’s left cheek rests on his pillow, his face relaxed in deep sleep. Will reaches out and traces the cut of his cheekbone down to his slightly parted lips. His fingertips dip inside, tracing the points of Hannibal’s teeth. Will leans down and kisses the corner of his husband’s slack mouth. 

Hannibal’s gifts have always been essentially flawless specimens. While often resembling Hannibal in facial structure and built, they are young and completely untouched by years and life. They could be considered ideals.

Will has never cared much for ideals.

Will looks in absolute wonder at the gift he has been given tonight. While near 60, Hannibal’s body is strong, still honed to be a predator and entirely beautiful because of the life he's lived. On display now are his broad back and wide shoulders, a torso marked with a brand and gunshot entrance wound that had nearly killed him with infection. His long, graceful legs are dusted with hair and a puncture scar on his right calf from a metal hook from Jack in Florence. His midsection is soft, extra flesh at the sides that Will now shares on his own body—a sign of comfort, age, and a kind of happiness. 

Hannibal has added another detail to his tableau that was absent in all his other gifts: a pillow under his hips, presenting his ass to Will, and a clear glass plug nestled between his cheeks.  

Will sits beside Hannibal and begins to move the plug slowly. He watches as the rim clings to it as he pulls, expanding as it reaches the widest part and then shrinking again as it reaches the tip. He pushes it back in, watching the rim stretch and then swallow the tapered base. He repeats the process over and over again, fucking the hole with the plug, palming himself through his pants. He holds it still at the point where it stretches the rim to its limit, and God, he can see inside.

Will strips off his clothes and gently pulls out the plug completely, replacing it with three fingers from his left hand. He drags them out slowly and then plunges back in, transfixed by the relaxed hole swallowing them up. It's something he has done countless times before, but Hannibal is always so vocal and responsive to the act that Will is unable to block that out and focus on the feel of it. He can now. He focuses on the softness of the rim as his knuckles glide past, the slip of lube, the warmth: everything encouraging him to add a fourth finger and to go deeper until half his palm is inside. Will moans, jacking his cock, holding his hand inside and marveling at the greediness of how it sucks in his fingers.

He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, holding his cock. He leans forward to rub it against the hole, not pushing in yet, just needing to feel the swollen rim and the slight gape against the head. Will glides it inside, just an inch, nothing more, and smears precome and lube everywhere as he enters and retreats again and again.

After a while, he can't help himself anymore and he has to sink in, moaning at the tightness despite being so well-stretched. He slides in deep, holding the cheeks spread, desperate to feel as much of the grip that is physically possible. 

He remains unmoving until the instinct to take, to have, becomes too much and he begins to thrust. It starts off slow and gentle, pushing all the way in before retreating until he is barely inside, but it quickly becomes harder, sharper movements, jostling the body with every thrust.

Will is close within minutes, and not wanting it to end yet, he pulls out. He rests his cock between the cheeks, calming down, and watches precome drip onto the small of the back. He grips the cheeks, pushing them together, enclosing his cock, and starts to thrust again. It's a bit dry, not enough lubrication to move smoothly, but the friction is delicious and then he's rearing back and entering again, pushing deep, shaking as he comes. 

Will pulls out and grabs the plug, sealing the hole before anything can escape. He covers the body with his own and kissing Hannibal's shoulder, he falls asleep.


Will wakes to lips on his forehead and opens his eyes. The amount of external light in their bedroom indicates that it’s well into the morning. He must have slept for hours.

He’d shifted off Hannibal at some point but is pressed tightly against him. Hannibal is still in the same position. Will inhales at the memory.

"It seems like you had fun, dear boy," Hannibal says, a grin teasing at his lips.

Will raises an eyebrow. "I'm not done yet. Roll over."

Hannibal does exactly that and Will smiles when he makes a soft sound, presumably at the plug shifting inside him. Hannibal settles on his back, his hips tilted up by the pillow. He is already half hard.

Will settles back in close, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder. He runs his hand through Hannibal's chest hair and asks, "Could you feel anything? Did you dream about it?"

"Sadly no. You'll have to tell me," Hannibal says.

Will feels like that may not be entirely truthful. He plays along anyway. "You'd prepared yourself so well for me. It took everything not to have you immediately. To take the plug out and just slip right in." Will takes himself in hand, the back of his knuckles running against Hannibal's side as he strokes.

"Will," Hannibal says, a little breathless.

"Touch yourself, please," Will begs.

For a while, the only sounds are those of skin on skin and their breaths. Will mouths at Hannibal's shoulder, pressing his cock against Hannibal's hip, and his hand is back on Hannibal's chest, pulling and rolling a nipple between his fingers. Hannibal rubs his chin against the top of Will's head as he strokes his cock and rhythmically pushes his hips back, applying pressure to the plug inside of him.

"I kept playing with it," Will continues. "Moving it in and out. Your body took it so well. Fuck, Hannibal, I could see inside you."

Hannibal groans, his strokes quickening.

"You were so open. I had half my hand inside and your body was still begging for more." Will bites at Hannibal’s shoulder, leaving imprints of his teeth.

"Will." It's a request this time. Will can hear how close Hannibal is in his voice.

"Yeah." Will shifts between Hannibal's legs. He gently places one over his shoulder, removes the plug, and slides home.

They both moan. Will loses himself in how wet Hannibal is, the mix of lube and come kept inside just waiting for him to return.

Will moves, his thrusts already sloppy, and there is no attempt at technique or at making it last. "You feel so good,” he gasps. “You're always so good to me. You always know what I need before I do. You offer me beautiful gifts. You offer me you. I love you. Christ, I love you so fucking much."

Hannibal moans as he spills into his own hands, and shortly after, Will cries out into Hannibal's neck. Hannibal pulls him into a kiss and Will returns it fiercely. 

They lie entangled, cooling down. Eventually Will rolls off to the side, his restlessness finally abated. "Well, I definitely want to do that again." He pauses. "Why didn't you offer this before?” he questions. “Why bring me gifts?"

Hannibal turns on his side to face Will. "You know why."

Will's own voice echoes in his head. You were just curious what I would do. 

Some things never change.

Will reaches for Hannibal's hand, tangling their fingers together. "Will you bring me more gifts in the future?" 

Hannibal props himself on his elbow, looming over Will. "That depends. What do you want, Will?"

Will grins. "I want you to surprise me," he says and drags Hannibal down.