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Ensnared

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Will woke the next morning with a slight headache and an empty bed. Hannibal hadn't been gone long, judging by the ache in his arm and the warmth in the bed next to him. As if on cue, he heard a shuffling in the bathroom. Will shifted himself in the bed as other noises echoed and then the door opened, revealing a strangely rumpled Hannibal. His hair was falling across his face and into his eyes and the sleep pants he wore were wrinkled. It was a surprisingly sweet look on him and almost made Will forgive him for what he was certain was morphine.

Almost. 

"You're awake," Hannibal said, nearing the bed. 

"I wanted your voice, not pain killers." 

He wasn't surprised when guilt didn't flash over the other's face, but instead a rather small smug smile that vanished as quickly as it came.

"You were in pain." 

Will decided not to argue. Instead, he shifted himself on the bed, trying to push upward. Hannibal was around the bed in an instant, offering a steadying hand as Will pushed himself upward. The other stayed close, their hands clasped together as Will stood. The pain still made him dizzy, though he supposed he could be forgiven considering it was only a few days since he was shot. Hannibal was also clearly dizzy from pain when he was shot too, and it was part of the reason the two of them had continued sleeping in the same bed once they arrived in Cuba. The two of them had spent more than enough time in each other's space, propping each other up even on trips to the bathroom. Nothing they had was unknown to the other. There were even a few days went the two of them couldn't muster enough energy to move downstairs to eat. So, instead, they lied in bed, not touching, but together and drifting in and out of sleep. 

Will stumbled slightly, stepping wrong and causing pain to shot through him like a bolt of electricity. Hannibal caught him immediately, searching Will's face urgently. 

Hannibal was always a reserved person, but Will knew how to read his face. Even when he tried to hide his emotions from himself. So Will knew the concern that greeted him from behind those warm, amber eyes. He wondered if Hannibal let himself feel everything since Will was shot, or if he shoved it all behind a wall to deal with another time. Hannibal was good at that, so was Will.

He let Hannibal move closer as he navigated across their bedroom to the bathroom. Hannibal left him as he went about his business, eventually splashing water over his face. He would have to shower soon, and that would be difficult with the gunshot wound. He and Hannibal had basically bathed in the sink following their injuries with the Dragon until Hannibal deemed it ok to remove their stitches. He was certain Hannibal took too much pleasure in washing his hair. 

They had brought in one of the chairs from the balcony and leaned it against the sink. Hannibal insisted on washing Will's hair first and then watched Will closely when it was his turn. 

He should have kissed him then. Or any of the other times they were in such a close space. He should have crossed the boundary of their bed. Hannibal should have too. 

Better late than never he supposed. 

Hannibal opened up the door, likely due to the lack of noise on Will's end. Will's hands tightened on the counter before he jerked his head, beckoning Hannibal closer. The other neared, letting Will lean his weight against him. 

"Breakfast first," Hannibal said, likely sensing his train of thought. 

"That nose of yours can tolerate me for longer?" Will joked only for Hannibal to turn and bury his face in Will's neck. 

He heard the other inhale and he shuddered slightly, especially when Hannibal's lips brushed over his neck. "I think you mean, I delight." 

Will wanted to push him away, seeing Hannibal's playful smirk as he pulled away. Amazing how much of their past pain was meaningless now. Nothing more than a joke. A preamble. For this. 

They ventured toward the stairs, Will leaning on Hannibal. He knew the other would most likely pick him up again, but he waved him off before he ever had the chance. Instead, he grasped the metal railing, gripping Hannibal probably too tightly with the other hand, and began the descent one step at a time. He was careful and it was a slow process, most of it spent with Hannibal ready to pick him up the moment his legs seemed the slightest bit unsteady, but he made it. Hannibal deposited him on the couch and then began rattling around the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and opening and closing the refrigerator. 

Will forced himself up after a while and moved to one of the chairs that were on the other side of the counter in the kitchen. 

Hannibal looked up at him as he settled himself, leaning on the counter to watch the other cook. 

"Protein scramble?" Will asked, watching the eggs cook. 

"A light one for you. Mostly eggs and sausage." 

The sausage caught Will's attention and he glanced back out of the kitchen and toward the door he knew led to the basement. He wondered who Hannibal had down there, and when exactly Hannibal caught this specific pig. He was working his way through them intently. The marrow soup, the sausage. He doubted this pig was still alive, give that sausage was normally made from intestines, but Frederick Chilton could attest to the fact that not all of one's intestines were needed to live.

Hannibal likely wouldn't have left while Will was unconscious to find someone. 

Which only left one person. 

The guard. 

He doubted Hannibal took the sailboat to take them back to Cuba given how slow that would be. The other didn't answer when Will asked what happened, though he was putting together the pieces for himself. Hannibal had gone after the guard after Will was shot, taking him and a faster boat to bring all three of them to Cuba. 

Hannibal plated the food, carrying them to the table. Will slid from his chair, watched carefully by Hannibal until he dropped into the chair at the table, the food steaming in front of him. 

He remembered the first time Hannibal made a protein scramble for him, likely from Cassie Boyle. He never had verbal confirmation on that, but he could guess and guess accurately enough. 

Just keep it professional. 

Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly. 

Will smirked to himself. They were far beyond friendly now. He remembered answering the door to his motel room in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and briefs. Neither of them was wearing shirts now. Hannibal, despite the warmth of the climate, was in a pair of pajama pants and Will in a pair of shorts. He could see Hannibal's bullet wound, healed and now only a round scar on his abdomen and his back where it entered. 

His fork paused halfway to his mouth as he looked more closely at Hannibal. 

"Something on your mind Will?" 

The table was small enough that Will could reach without much trouble to brush his fingers over the scar on Hannibal's abdomen. "Same side." 

Hannibal's eyes dropped to Will's wound and then back to his face. A million emotions ran behind those amber eyes, but instead the other only nodded, uncharacteristically silent. He let it be for a moment, but he wouldn't let it be for long. They finished their breakfast and as Hannibal did the dishes, Will moved into the kitchen, watching him as he did the day before.

"Hannibal," He said quietly as the other folded the towel back over the faucet, the dishes put away and the meal cleaned up. "Talk to me." 

"You're very determined to break down all my walls," Hannibal observed not looking at him.

"You broke down my walls. I've climbed over yours, weaving between them and over them. Let me past this last one." 

Hannibal turned around, leaning against the counter and bracing himself. Their eyes met and Will saw. The fear, the sadness, the worry, the relief. All of it ran over him like a freight train and then Hannibal was moving. The other wasn't gentle as he crashed into Will, pushing him back into the refrigerator and attacking his mouth with fervor. Will winced slightly as his back collided with the cold metal behind him and then Hannibal's arms were around him. 

Will was going to drown in him, and quite happily. 

His arms wrapped around the other, seemingly spurring on Hannibal's assault. The other shifted, sinking his teeth into the other side of Will's neck, biting and sucking another bruise. Claiming what was already his again, just to know that Will belonged to him. He could feel the heat of Hannibal's skin, the way his pulse sped up under Will's touch as he pushed one of his hands into the other's hair. He felt Hannibal's teeth in his neck, the way they were angled, and how sharp they were as his jaw flexed, pressing them into Will's skin. And then Hannibal's tongue, soothing over the bite. He didn't break skin, didn't make Will bleed. But he certainly marked him. 

After a moment, the other shifted his grip, lifting Will and walking them through the room. Will didn't even have time to adjust his legs before they were falling onto the couch. Hannibal was under him, the other careful to adjust himself to that there wasn't direct pressure on Will's wound. 

Hannibal's hands splayed over his back, pressing them together. He let go of Will's neck to find his lips once more. 

"You stood in front of the guard," Hannibal muttered against his lips accusingly. 

"You stood in front of the window." Will accused back. 

"I told you-" Hannibal began, but Will cut him off. 

"You won't watch me die. And I won't watch you die." Hannibal looked up at him, his eyes filled with so much love it made Will's heart ache. "We either live together or we die together. I won't live in a world without you in it." 

Actually saying the words this time felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. 

"I love you," Hannibal said softly, cupping the side of Will's face, staring at him adoringly. 

"I love you too." 

Their lips met again, softer this time, but with no less emotion. Will let his weight shift slightly, pressing himself more against Hannibal under him. Strangely enough, it was such a familiar feeling, even though they hadn't been exactly like this before. Will had tucked Hannibal under him in BSHCI, his weight pressed against the other's body. But even then there had been an audience and layers of clothing between them. Now, with Hannibal's skin against his, feeling every way he twitched as he moved his hand from Will's face into hair, the heat of his hand against Will's back. It felt closer.

Intimate.

He shifted himself to bury an arm under Hannibal's body. The other let out a noise that was half snarl and half groan as his grip on Will's hair tightened. 

Their lips moved in sync, tongues meeting and exploring. Every breath he took felt as though it was pulled directly from Hannibal's lungs. Hannibal tugged at his bottom lip for a moment, sucking at it before letting it go with a soft pop, and then they were back at each other again. 

He felt the way Hannibal tugged him closer, attempting to cradle Will against him. He could feel Hannibal's loose hair brush across his forehead. His free hand moved into the other's hair feeling every strand that feel through his fingers. Hannibal's mouth drifted away, pressing kisses against his shoulder, over the stab wound. It was Will's turn now to bury his face in Hannibal's neck, and he wasted no time doing so and sinking his teeth into Hannibal's neck. Hannibal groaned and pressed more against the back of Will's head, holding him place. 

Will sucked a mark into the other's neck before Hannibal's lips pulled away from his shoulder, seeking his own once more. 

The other's hand began massaging over his back, stroking up and down his spine and raising gooseflesh in his wake. 

Will was lost, floating somewhere outside his own body but still wrapped completely in Hannibal. 

The two of them somehow managed to roll onto their sides, with the pressure off Will's injury. Their hands found each other's, fingers tangling together. His other hand was functioning as Hannibal's pillow and vice versa. His thigh slipped between Will's legs, the two of them shifting yet again to press growing erections against the other for some form of relief. 

He hadn't truly had a make out session since college. He forgot how hard it was to stop. Especially given how much Hannibal didn't want to stop too. 

He didn't know how long they were there, lost each other, mouths finding the other's and then brushing over warm skin before returning again. He could feel the way Hannibal's fingers deftly pushed the right buttons, finding places he didn't even know he liked to be touched. His hips, his lower back. The way he couldn't help but shudder when Hannibal's fingers trailed lightly over his arm. Hannibal seemed to be just as affected, as Will learned the other's body. But neither reached lower than the waist line, except for where their legs pressed against the other's erection. 

But he couldn't stop his hips from grinding slightly when Hannibal twitched. 

And he couldn't stop the moan that echoed from his chest when Hannibal sucked another mark onto his collar bone. His teeth sunk into the other's shoulder, eliciting a moan from him. 

They were both breathing heavily when Will drew back slightly, mostly bring himself back down to earth. He was greeted by Hannibal, searching his face carefully to make certain he hadn't overstepped. Will leaned forward slightly, brushing his nose against Hannibal's and feeling, more than seeing, the way the other's lips quirked. 

"Are you mad at me?" Will asked quietly, returning them to their earlier conversation. 

Hannibal let go of Will's hand, using it to stroke his face and push some stray curls back. "No. I suppose you did warn me that you would do it." 

Will had. In the car, before they ever left. He asked Hannibal why he stood between him and the window, when it was his plan all along to stand between Hannibal and the rest of the world. 

"I love you, Will Graham. Even when you surprise me or do something like standing between me and a gun." 

"You stood between me and a gun." Will answered. "It's one of the reasons I love you too, Hannibal Lecter." 

Hannibal's eyes shimmered for a second and as Will leaned in for another kiss, he felt a tear drop on his cheek. Hannibal loved him. And he loved Hannibal. 

After a moment, he broke away to settle himself more into the couch, wrapping Hannibal in his arms and the other pressing him closer. Now and then, they would shift, a silent request for a kiss. 

When they finally broke apart, remembering their original intentions to clean themselves up, he saw that their whole detour to the couch lasted over three hours. But that didn't matter when Hannibal scooped him up into his arms, carrying him up the stairs.