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Scipio Africanus or the definition of "defeat"

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Hannibal brought out two plates. At first glance, it looked like a large pile of scrambled eggs and perhaps blood sausage. Then came sauces, a silver porringer and a squat bowl with what looked like thick deep brownish red gravy and perhaps a sweet magenta fruit syrup respectively. 

“Blodplättar.” Hannibal announced. “I’ve prepared a sort of breakfast for dinner; quail eggs and what is known as blodplättar or veriohukainen, a small usually fried sweet bread that calls for the blood to be whipped into the milk before adding the other ingredients. Most prefer lingonberry syrup,” he motioned to the basin and its accompanying syrup. “But if one is more adventurous, I’ve developed a blood sauce that I think will compliment the hearty meal best.”


Hannibal smiled as though at a toddler who had just uttered their first coherent word. It was encouraging yet patronizing. Will knew what he was doing, a subtle disapproval with the sole purpose of igniting a desire to set it right. Unfortunately, it worked and Will felt almost supernaturally compelled to please him.

“Blood, like the mythical fountain of youth, gives us breath and curses us. Blood marks the beginning and ending of our life, christening us with life creating placenta but marking our downfall should we lose too much.” Hannibal eyed Will. “Intimacy and blood are linked inextricably.” Like everything Hannibal said, it felt like a message, and if Will was just clever enough he could understand. 

“Are you saying that I need to bleed or get a girlfriend.”

Hannibal pursed his lips and Will couldn’t help but stare. He tried to think of Jack and his warning. “You cannot let him in.” And yet when Hannibal spoke it was as if they were speaking the same language. A language that no one else could ever learn. 

“You are shielding yourself from certain pleasures because of your fear of intimacy.”

“I’m not afraid of intimacy.” The speed at which the reply left his mouth surprised Will just as much as it did Hannibal. 

Hannibal finished plating the table and turned to Will. He motioned to the wine glass and Will nodded. He poured just a little bit more in Will’s glass. Will sipped slowly. Hannibal devoured the image, every second, like he could see the liquid slide down his throat. Will raised his eyebrows but Hannibal’s face remained stagnant. He sat down adjacent to his guest, having put a few of the blodplättar and a spoonful of eggs on his plate. 

“Would you like to serve yourself, William?” Hannibal kept his eyes down but Will could practically hear his heart racing. 

Will eyed the blood sauce. The burgundy liquid begged to be spilled, it rippled like something was clawing its way to the surface or maybe he was seeing things again. Will stared for what was admittedly too long. He reached out to dip a finger into the liquid and brought it to his lips. There was no indication that Hannibal had even noticed except for the fact that he’d frozen with a fork to his lips. Will smiled and deliberately let a drop slip down his chin. He felt the air sweep out of the room and Hannibal’s eyes snapped up. 

“Will,” he said like a stone had dropped into his gut. Like nothing outside that room could ever matter. Like every action he’d taken had pushed him to this moment and yet he was still taken aback that Will took the bait. Will suddenly had the advantage, he felt as if as long as he kept Hannibal on his toes, he was safe. 

Will stood and Hannibal’s eyes slid down his body. His thin but muscular frame shook as he stepped closer to Hannibal, officially entering his personal space. Hannibal took a deep breath and Will imagined he could smell arousal in the air, like a predator. Hannibal made to stand as well but Will pushed him down with a strong hand on his chest. Will pleaded with his eyes. If he was going to do this, he needed some leverage; some form of security, some form of escape. Hannibal nodded and sat back in his chair. He rested his arms at his sides, showing surrender. 

Will slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, each new inch of skin sending shivers down Hannibal’s spine. His mouth fell open when finally the button up fell to the floor. He reached out to touch but again Will pushed him back. Will turned and dipped a couple of his fingers into the blood sauce again, only this time he pushed the finger into Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head and Will smiled. He ran his bloody hand down Hannibal’s chest, staining the shirt with the maroon liquid. The image seemed to do the trick as Will began working on the buttons to Hannibal’s slacks. When Will pulled away the restricting fabric, Hannibal’s cock sprung back against his stomach like a trap. Will couldn’t help but notice the slight blush to his cheeks, a loud and unusual betrayal of emotion. 

Hannibal clenched his fits, clutching the armrests in his hands. His knuckles were near white with the strength it took to keep them where they were. A thrill slid down his spine. Until now he was only partly aware of how much power he had over the Chesapeake Ripper. Now he was sure. He enjoyed watching Hannibal struggle. 

“When I was sick,” Will began. Hannibal’s eyes snapped up, freezing entirely. “I dreamt of something like this quite often.” The hard angles of Hannibal’s face broke into an unsure smile. 

“Tell me.” 

Will thought for a moment, drawing it out and thoroughly enjoying every second Hannibal seemed to grow more frantic. He adjusted his glasses and then, as if finally making a decision, he placed them on the table. They made a soft series of clicks on the wood. The sound made Hannibal flinch. It was fascinating and made Will feel powerful. He had the man he feared for so long, on edge. He was no longer prey. 

“You removed my clothes.”

Hannibal’s hands moved to the edge of the armrest but he did not release. He searched for an answer in Will’s eyes. At long last, Will nodded. It was small, subtle, but Hannibal took it graciously and his long skillful fingers immediately went to the button on Will’s jeans. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of both jeans and boxers and in one quick harsh movement he drew them down Will’s legs. Will reached out for balance and found Hannibal’s shoulders, he lifted each leg in turn and allowed Hannibal to fully undress him. 

He was eye level with Will’s cock at that point. He respectfully looked up, allowing Will the moment to retreat if necessary. Will betrayed nothing. Then he took Hannibal’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his half hard shaft. Hannibal closed his eyes and took a deep resetting breath. He moved his hand and took his time, trying several different speeds and grips until Will sighed and his head fell back into his shoulders. 

“Tell me what happened next?”

“Usually you speered me straight through with your antlers.” Will looked at him behind glazed over eyes. Hannibal stutterd in his motion. 

“Is that a metaphor?” 

“No.” Will shook his head. “You literally killed me. Every night.” He said it with no emphasis, like it was simply extraneous after thought. His eyes narrowed. 

Hannibal grunted and Will watched the blush spread down his chest. Will twisted to reach behind him. Hannibal couldn’t look away, completely wrapt at the way the light was falling in streams down Will’s frame. Like a Greek sculpture with devastatingly perfect hips and astronomical shoulders. He was a work of art, pure and evocative and meant to be in every way. 

When Will turned back, in his hand was one of their wine glasses. Will grinned halfheartedly. Hannibal stopped breathing. Bolstered by this reaction, Will tipped the wine glass over his shoulder letting the wine spill down his neck and chest. 

Hannibal jumped out of his chair. Will flinched. He assumed Hannibal was upset about the way the wine splashed onto his grey slacks. Hannibal moved slowly, softly pushing Will’s chin up so Will was forced to look at him. Hannibal licked his lips. Then he kept pushing. He lunged forward, licking the bitter liquid off Will’s neck. Will moaned. 

“One puncture to this vein,” Hannibal wrapped his strong fingers around the back of Will’s neck and dragged his tongue along the vein. “The jugular vein, one of several veins of the neck that drain blood from the brain, face...” He sounded like he was having trouble breathing at the mere thought. “...and neck, returning it to the heart. You cut here,” he dragged a nail down Will’s neck, “it would only take two minutes to bleed to death.”

“Would you like that?” Again Hannibal barely even breathed. Will looked down and noticed Hannibal’s cock was red and leaking against his hip. Then Will grinned and Hannibal attacked his neck, sucking and licking. Will gasped when Hannibal sunk his teeth into the meat of his neck and shoulder. One particular hard bite that was sure to leave a mark caused Will to whimper Hannibal’s name. 

Hannibal ran his fingers along the sharp corners of Will’s shoulder blades. Then they slid up and around this tan shoulders and broad collar bone. He shifted so he could squeeze one of Will’s nipples, so he could hear Will whine again. His thumb dipped into the valleys of Will’s abs and belly button. Each move drew out a deep humming moan from the shorter man. 

Finally, Hannibal reached Will’s waist, admiring the narrow hips and perfect inviting V of his muscles. He gripped his waist and pushed, essentially turning the man so he was facing the table. A loud thump sounded as Will used the table for support. Then Hannibal’s touch vanished. Will felt like he could finally breathe. Hannibal told him to stay and then there were footsteps leaving the room.

Will breathed. He bucked his hips and felt his hard cock bump the table. 

What was he doing? Was he really going to fuck Hannibal Lecter? Will nodded. It wasn’t a metaphor. His dreams truly used to terrify him. But now the images of himself covered in blood were morphing in his head; wet hands caressed him and held him as he whimpered. He moaned as the breath was stolen from his chest, the liquid drained from his body. Across the room he could practically see the man with the antlers. The same man who had taken him apart piece by piece in his dreams night after night. A man Will couldn’t help but notice had morphed into a familiar face. 


Hannibal had returned with lube. And a paring knife. Will's heart jumped into his throat. The images he’d conjured disappeared like smoke. Hannibal set the lube on the table, leaning over Will and reveling in the way Will’s body tensed up. Will’s eyes flitted between the doors to the room, wondering how far he could get when Hannibal reached out and took Will’s wrist. He locked eyes with the shorter man and placed the knife in his hand. 

Will couldn’t help himself. He laughed. A breathy relieved sound that had Hannibal’s head swimming.

“Funny.” He said for lack of a better word.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Will.” Hannibal said and it somehow sounded like a threat. Like he was reassuring the room that no matter what upperhand he gave Will, he still had all the power. Will shivered. He raised the knife like he was going to push it into Hannibal’s chest before turning around and nodding to the lube.

Hannibal sniffed and moved slowly, like an animal testing the water, unsure of the beast in front of him. He worked Will open. Impossibly slow, agonizingly slow. Will didn’t even know someone could touch him that softly and yet he was absurdly turned on.

“Ah! H-Hannibal. I’m-” Just as he felt he was about to come, Hannibal removed that immaculate touch. He felt Hannibal’s smile as he brushed his lips over that vein in his neck. 

“No, I still want…” The word seemed to catch in Hannibal’s throat. He pulled Will back. Hannibal took a seat, looking somehow more debauched than Will felt. Then it hit him. He wanted Will to ride him. 

“To fuck me?” Will offered. Hannibal winced. 

“I suppose so.” Hannibal didn’t quite smile but the ghost of it was present on his lips. Will’s grip tightened on the knife in his hand. 

“Say it.” Hannibal watched him. That patronizing smile from earlier spreading over his face. Will knelt down in front of him, bringing the dull edge of the knife to his cock. “Say you want to fuck me, Hannibal.” Will’s breath drifted along his shaft. Will was hotter than ever before with a knife on Hannibal’s cock and a playful grin spreading across his lips. 

“I want to fuck you, William.” Will put the knife between his teeth and nodded. Then he stood, turned, and sat down in Hannibal’s lap. The feeling was strange, tight and pulsing and fucking fantastic. Hannibal’s hands swarmed up and around Will’s chest, gripping him tight and pulling. Will took the knife and tossed it to the table. Not too far almost out of arm's reach, figuring he didn’t need it at the moment. 

“Oh! Hannibal. I- ah...” 

Hannibal hauled him down again, running one hand down his chest to pull at Will’s cock. Hannibal rotated his hips and bucked and Will was losing focus. He felt like he was being poisoned, heat spreading from his gut to his head. Slowly dulling his senses until all he knew was pleasure. Hannibal was an expert in all things it seemed and sex was not an exception. He skillfully worked at hitting the spots that had Will gasping for air and moaning his name. 

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, Will?” Hannibal, only slightly out of breath, asked before leaving more teeth marks on Will’s shoulder.

“Stop talking.” Will shook and struggled against Hannibal’s hands. But he wasn’t trying to escape. He wished there was more of him. He wished that the man from his dreams was here. He wanted to feel Hannibal on every inch of his body. 

Hannibal hissed and changed the angle of his hips. Will grasped at the table for support. He couldn’t believe there was something that could make him feel like this. Something that could take him apart in a way he could enjoy. His hair fell into his face. Hannibal fanned his fingers over Will’s perfect shoulder and pulled down, somehow knowing exactly what Will needed. Sweat dripped to the floor but for once Will ignored it. It was like no one else existed. The whole world consisted of the way Hannibal’s hips slapped against his. Nothing else mattered but the way Hannibal’s nimble fingers moved on his cock. He could live on the simple deep moans breathed into his ear.

“Hannibal, please. Right there. Please. I- don’t stop.”

His orgasm shocked them both. He sobbed out a moan and Hannibal followed suit shortly after, he continued thrusting, working them both through it. What felt like hours passed in a minute or two. Hannibal breathing that hot breath on his neck and Will feeling like he’d been drained empty and filled back up too full. 

When Will finally stood up his legs barely held him and he clutched at the table for dear life. Hannibal watched, completely mesmerized by the sight. Hannibal took Will’s hand and led him to the bedroom where he pulled the sheet back for him. Will felt a jolt in his stomach. He looked up at Hannibal with wide eyes, feeling his fight or flight nudging at his brain just below the surface. But the adrenaline was draining fast and he wanted more than anything to lay down, encapsulated by silk sheets and Hannibal and the promise of more.

“Indulge me.”

Will did so, finding a comfortable position with Hannibal at his back. 

“Like Scipio Africanus and my ancient counterpart, you’ve ruined me Will Graham. You’ve left me with nothing but the responsibility to oversee.”

“I’m not taking anything from you.” Will laughed. But the sound got caught in his throat. 

“We shall see.”