Hannibal woke up abruptly, heart in his throat. His poor organ doubled his pace in the moment his not-yet awake brain realized that his body couldn’t move. Someone was sitting astride him, completely blocking his chest and his arms.
Hannibal moved, trying to dislodge the body above him, but his attempt didn’t do anything but make the weight of the intruder press into him even more and the hand shutting his mouth moved to partially close his nose as well.
In a millisecond the air to his lungs diminished drastically and panic grew, making him believe he was suffocating. A rational part of him, but completely overwhelmed by fear, told him he wasn’t suffocating, but his lungs seemed to burn and the air, there was no air and his sight-
“Sh, sh, Doctor Lecter,” a calm and reassuring voice whispered into his ear, “calm down, Doctor.”
The hand moved away from his nose and Hannibal tried to take a deep breath.
“Yes, Doctor, that’s good, breathe, everything is okay,” the voice went on, sweet and steadfast as an embrace.
Hannibal focused on his breathing, in and out, in and out, and when even his body was convinced he wasn’t suffocating anymore, Hannibal tried to focus on the person who was whispering reassuring nonsense in his ear. His heart had started beating almost normally, but his mind was finally awake and alert: the panic had finally receded, and in its place there was a rational fear. Who the hell had broken into his flat? And how was it possible that he hadn’t woken up earlier?
Dim light filtered from the window, but the feeble rays of the crescent moon were enough to sharpen the delicate traits of the intruder, traits that Hannibal had memorized perfectly during the past months, since the FBI had gotten him on the case.
Will Graham, wanted for seven murders and suspected for five more, was sitting on him and was looking at him with bright and too perceptive eyes. As much as Hannibal knew Graham’s face by heart, nothing could prepare him for his live impression, for his classical beauty and the intelligence shining from those eyes. Hannibal swallowed and wondered whether he would become the victim of Graham’s first murder that month. Hannibal wasn’t Graham’s victim type, but for what reason the man was sitting on him that night if not to kill him, Hannibal couldn’t say.
“Come on, dear Doctor, calm down,” Graham answered his thoughts and Hannibal gave him a startled look. “Your fears are clear, but completely unfounded.” Graham went on.
Hannibal tried to open his mouth, but Graham’s hand kept preventing him and Hannibal glared at the man. Graham smiled almost maniacally and moved his hand.
“What do you want, Mr Graham?” Hannibal asked, voice cold and implacable.
Graham had the guts to smile at him, as if it were Christmas and Hannibal had just given him a gift.
“But it’s obvious, dear Doctor!” Graham cheerfully answered. “I want to know the man who’s been chasing me! Last week you almost bumped into me!”
Hannibal’s brows furrowed. When-?, he asked himself, but then shook his head. He wouldn’t let himself be dragged into a little tête-à-tête with a serial killer.
“And now that you are here?”
If possible, Graham’s smile widened even more and the man leaned forward, hands on Hannibal’s pillow, one at each side of Hannibal’s head.
Hannibal’s heart lurched, when Graham’s tongue licked a line of skin from the base of his neck to his lobe. Graham’s breathing tickled his ear when he spoke and Hannibal shuddered.
“Now, dear Doctor, we will get to know each other much, much better.”