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Viscum Cruciatum

Chapter Text

Will looked around at the people assembled in Hannibal’s study. And the dining room, the sitting room—because heaven forbid Hannibal refer to it as something so mundane as a living room, and hallway. Hell, every room on the first floor of the house was filled with people. Hannibal was in his element, showing off, throwing a lavish holiday party. Thousands of tiny white lights backlit cream- and gold-colored decorations, creating a soft, diaphanous cloud of illumination. Occasional pointsettia flowers stood out in stark contrast, like scattered drops of blood on a pristine and elegant canvas.

Hannibal’s appearance had surprised Will more than the throng of bodies—seriously, how many people did the man know?—when he’d arrived. Will had expected to find Hannibal in his burgundy suit. Instead, he’d been quite startled to see the man in bright red velvet trimmed in black satin, a crisp white shirt, and a shiny satin green tie and pocket square. Although, the satin was probably silk, and for some reason Will wanted to touch it and find out. The man looked like a present that needed unwrapping.

A small smile curved his lips at the absurdity of the thought, and Will took another drink from the scotch in his tumbler. Will was the furthest thing from being in his element, and the liquor helped immensely with the anxiety.

“Probably should have paid more attention to where you stopped, Graham.”

Will’s gaze dropped to Beverly’s face just in time for his brain to register her actions. Her hands grabbed the sides of his head and she planted her lips on his. Too surprised to think clearly, Will responded, sliding one arm around the small of her back and leaning into the kiss, teasing at the seam of her lips with his tongue.

When at last they parted, she stood with a hand on his chest, breathing heavily.

“Jesus, Will. If I’d known you could kiss like that, I’d have gotten you under the mistletoe a hell of a lot sooner.”

Will tipped his head back to see that, indeed, the doorway he leaned against was festooned with a lovely spray of leaves and berries.

“I suppose that would also require you to have a better opinion of me, now wouldn’t it, Bev?” He spoke to her, but his eyes were locked onto Hannibal’s face, who looked wholly displeased, judging by the firm set of his jaw and the way the man glared at Beverly.

Still in his arms, Beverly sighed. “Nice sweater, by the way,” she said as she pushed away with a grin. Will’s responding laugh was genuine.

“It’s certainly a far cry from what everyone else is wearing. I don’t own any fancy clothes. This is the most festive I can do.” Will gave Beverly the once-over as she moved on. She wore an emerald colored dress, with silver ornament earrings and a jingly necklace. In another time and place, he might even consider making a pass at her. But he wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. He drained the remainder of his scotch and moved toward the bar—because of course Hannibal had hired a bartender for this—for a refill.

“That certainly looked cozy.”

Will glanced over at Alana as she stepped up next to him.

“You made it clear you wanted to steer clear of me, remember? Besides,” he continued at the hurt look on her face. “It was just a kiss under the mistletoe. Nothing to get jealous about. It’s not like it meant anything.”

He walked away before he said anything else. His filter was rapidly disintegrating, and in the interests of self-preservation he stepped outside for a few moments. The crisp air was refreshing, helping to dispel a bit of the fog the alcohol had created. There was a steady snow falling, and he briefly thought of his dogs. Even if he stopped drinking now, he probably shouldn’t drive home. The back roads would be tricky. Will pulled his phone out and dialed his neighbor. He’d spoken to her earlier in the week regarding the potential need for her to feed the dogs and let them out because of the party tonight, so he didn’t feel guilty for a last-minute request. Will would catch a cab back to the academy later and sleep on the couch in his office.

Chapter Text

When Will finally went back inside, the crowd had thinned greatly.

“Ah, I see you have given up your pursuit of becoming a human popsicle in my garden. Come Will, sit in the study by the fire. I shall refill your drink for you.” Hannibal’s smooth voice warmed him nearly as much as the dancing flames in the hearth and the amber liquid in his glass. Since their initial rocky meeting, Will had grown rather fond of the enigmatic doctor and they’d formed quite the bond. Hannibal’s hand was a welcome heat on the small of Will’s back as he guided him to the fireplace.

“You look ridiculous, you know. Yet somehow you pull it off effortlessly. How do you do that?” he said, watching Hannibal’s face as he concentrated on pouring Will’s drink.

Hannibal gifted Will with one of his rare, true smiles that actually reached his eyes. Without a word, he glided away, off to charm another person in an expensive suit. Will wandered the study, skimming the books on the shelves aimlessly. It amazed Will that he could feel so comfortable here, in Hannibal’s home, while simultaneously being so out of place among the tailored clothing and expensive jewelry and advanced degrees. He stopped at a table in the corner covered with heavy papers. They were drawings, sketches that he’d never seen before.

“Christ, is there anything the man can’t do?” he mumbled into his glass as he took another drink. The skill was undeniable, the drawings nearly photographic in quality. Will shifted a few pages around, nearly choking when he recognized his own face in an expression he knew he’d never made in Hannibal’s presence.

“That certainly calls for more alcohol.” He drained his tumbler once more and carefully straightened the papers, returning the image of himself to the bottom of the stack before heading for the sideboard and the decanter he knew to be there.

Leaving the study, Will spoke with a few of the remaining people that he recognized from other events at Hannibal’s home. Jack and Alana left, and then Beverly appeared at his side once more as she donned her coat. The look she gave him went beyond friendly, and she threw her arms around him for an unexpected hug as he stood there woodenly.

“You’ve got my number,” she said into his ear before releasing him. He stared after her a moment before shaking his head and making his way to the kitchen to see what was left for food. It occurred to him that he’d drunk far more than he’d eaten. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hannibal watching him and wondered idly if he’d seen Beverly hug him. And then he wondered why that mattered to him.

Plate in hand, Will lounged in the doorway as he watched the last guest leave. The waitstaff that Hannibal had hired followed shortly thereafter, and Will was surprised when he glanced behind himself to find the kitchen nearly spotless. Hannibal gave him an appraising look from his place at the front door. Will didn’t miss the sound of the lock engaging.

“I do hope you were not planning to drive home to Wolf Trap tonight. You are not in a sufficient condition to do so.”

“Nah, I figured I’d grab a cab to the academy and sleep in my office.” Setting his plate on a side table, he retrieved the last of his drink.

“Now Will, you know I have plenty of guest rooms. There is no need for traveling unnecessarily in this weather.” Hannibal had crossed the distance between them. “Although this garish sweater would be quite the sight first thing in the morning, and I’m afraid I must insist you let me give you some clothing.”

Will cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t like my holiday sweater?”

Hannibal’s lips pressed into a firm line as he stared at the offending article, and Will was unable to contain his laughter any longer. It was a bright green material, with a large felt applique of a beagle in a Santa hat on the front, complete with flashing lights. His neighbor had given it to him one year for Christmas, and he never wore it. He wasn’t sure why he’d worn it tonight, except that he knew it would torture Hannibal the entire evening. Will circled his arm in the air between them, gesturing at Hannibal’s body.

“You’re one to talk, you know. You’re wearing a red velvet suit. You look like a pimp.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he stared at Will in shock for a moment before he started laughing.

“I do believe that is the first time I have ever been accused of that.”

Will grinned at his friend. “There’s always a first time for everything, right?”

Hannibal’s jaw tightened and he swallowed hard, his gaze on Will’s lips. The drawing flashed to the forefront of Will’s mind. At the time, he hadn’t known how to process that image. With more alcohol in him now, however, he found the proposal not so shocking.

“You’re probably right about me staying here,” he ventured. Another person might not have caught the way Hannibal’s breathing faltered, but Will did. “And you’re definitely right about this sweater.” Reaching an arm up and behind his head, he tugged the horrid thing off, revealing the snug t-shirt he wore beneath. “Care to do the honors?”

Hannibal looked at Will’s outstretched arm as if the synthetic material might bite him before gingerly grasping the garment.

“With pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Hannibal pressed his lips together, nearly biting them off in his efforts to keep from smiling. Will was a source of constant surprise and delight, often doing the opposite of what Hannibal anticipated. Tonight’s antics were the most entertaining yet by far, however. Hannibal hadn’t thought Will capable of such a joke as the sweater he was now unceremoniously dropping into the trash bin.

He could feel Will’s eyes watching his every move. Hannibal closed his own for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning back to face him. Torturing himself with the object of his obsession was an exercise in control, and Hannibal prided himself on his self-control. Even if said object was intoxicated and thereby easily swayed.

“So what’s with the holly mixed into the mistletoe on this doorway unlike all the others? I know you, there’s some significance there.”

Despite Will’s mistake, Hannibal found himself smiling as he turned. Of course Will had noticed the difference and commented on it. That he had done so pleased Hannibal.

“What you see above you is, in fact, entirely mistletoe.”

Will stretched an arm up to touch the spray adorning the kitchen entrance, arching his back in the process in such a way that Hannibal faltered in his stride. For reasons that he did not yet understand, his curiosity—obsession—with Will had taken a decidedly carnal twist of late. What he was going to do about that remained undecided.

“But these berries are red,” Will stated flatly.

“Indeed they are. The leaves of the holly are dark green and feature several spiky points, which I would have expected you to know. Even in your inebriated state, I am sure you can see that the leaves you are looking at are all similar, all mistletoe.” Will lowered his arm, glaring at Hannibal as he did so. Hannibal continued his explanation. “Common mistletoe is of the species Viscum album, and produces the white berries you are used to seeing. There is another species, Viscum cruciatum, which produces the red berries, and is found in parts of Spain, Portugal, Northern Africa, Asia, and Australia. Unless one pays attention to the leaves, it is easy to make the mistake.”

“You always have to be the smartest person in the room, don’t you? Always have to impress everyone with how fucking special you are, how esoteric your knowledge is, and your ability to obtain rare shit.”

Hannibal’s jaw tightened.

“I will forgive you that statement this one time, owing to your level of drunkenness. Mark my words, Will. I seek knowledge for it’s own sake. I impart that knowledge to others when I can. I have a fondness and affinity for the rare, yes. And I am fortunate enough to be able to indulge my desires. But never once have I sought to impress you with any of that. I wish only to share with you.”

“You don’t even deny it, you’re that narcissistic.”

“I do not deny that there are others beneath me. They are not of importance to me.”

“Then what am I doing here, Doctor? I am well below you on the social scale.”

“You interest me.”

“So once I no longer interest you, will I fall beneath you as well?”

“You are too unconcerned with where you fit on the social scale for that to happen.”

Will cocked his head, his confusion evident on his face.

“You are aware of your social limitations. Yet you do not seek to alter yourself to meet expectations. That is why you will never ‘fall beneath me’, as you put it. Because you aren’t even on the scale. Has your careful study of me not revealed to you that I do not care for the scale either? The difference between us is that I am comfortable being in both places, where you are not. You view it as an all or nothing, instead of embracing the opportunities the differences provide.”

For a moment they simply stared at each other in silence. Will processed what he’d just heard, while Hannibal wondered if he’d said too much, given too much away. All too often, he found himself revealing things to Will that he’d never intended. The man disarmed him, in the most surprising of ways.

Hannibal stepped in front of Will, joining him in the doorway. When he spoke again, it was in a soft voice and placating tone. He did not wish to argue with the man. “Come, Will. I think you have had enough to drink for this evening. You need sleep now.” He reached for the tumbler that had reappeared in Will’s hand.

“I haven’t had enough to drink to put me to sleep yet.”

Hannibal acknowledged the implication there, and chose to ignore it. Will had spoken before of having difficulty sleeping, and he wasn’t surprised that Will’s choice of self-medication was alcohol.

“Then perhaps a hot shower to help you relax?” Will didn’t fight Hannibal as he took the glass, but he didn’t move either.

“I don’t think either of us is allowed to go anywhere yet, now.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to tip his head in confusion.

“We are both standing under the mistletoe, dear Doctor.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched with the slightest smirk. “This is true. But I’m sure you are aware that the custom is for men to be able to kiss any woman under the mistletoe. There are no rules against a man refusing a kiss.”

“Are you saying I’m not pretty enough for you?” A sharp laugh escaped Hannibal as Will continued. “You looked rather put out when I kissed Beverly earlier. Tell me, Hannibal, why was that? 

Hannibal took a deep breath. Dare he speak the truth? Dare he acknowledge the anger and jealousy he’d felt, much to his own surprise? Will’s hand came forward, reaching for Hannibal’s chest. He slipped Hannibal’s tie free from beneath the suit coat and wrapped his hand around it, using it as a leash to pull Hannibal across the small space between them. 

“Do you truly desire this, Will?”

“Are you saying that you don’t?”

Eyes locked on Will’s, Hannibal emptied the remains of Will’s drink in one large mouthful. No need to let good Talisker go to waste. Heat, from both the drink and lust, suffused him. Will gave another tug on the tie, bringing their bodies in contact with one another. Hannibal grasped the side of Will’s face, cupping his chin and running his thumb along the stubble there.

“I did not expect this of you.”

“Thought maybe I’d give listening to my therapist a try. He pointed out that I’m not really living, I’m only existing. He seems to think I should embrace my desires and stop making myself uncomfortable.”

“He sounds extremely intelligent.” 

“He likes to think he is.” Will rested his forehead against Hannibal’s. “I thought the mistletoe was as good of an excuse as any to get you to finally kiss me. It doesn’t look as if you’d try otherwise.”

Hannibal’s heart raced, echoing the rapid beating of Will’s pulse beneath his hand. Would Will expect him to stop at just a kiss? Hannibal didn’t know how far he’d take this once it started. He adjusted his hold on Will, grasping a handful of hair at the back of his head. With a not-so-gentle tug, he jerked Will’s head back, watching the pupils of his eyes dilate.

“You should be careful what you wish for, Will.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, damn it.”

 

Chapter Text

There was a brief moment of hesitation on Hannibal’s part. Will wondered if he’d pushed too hard, demanded more of Hannibal than he was willing to give. Maybe he’d misread the situation after all. Hannibal worked hard to keep himself hidden from the world. Will knew the small amount of insight he had into the man was more than most, yet the picture was far from complete. Perhaps Hannibal would deny himself this, deny Will this, deny that there was something beyond platonic going on between them.

And then Hannibal’s lips crashed against his, firm and demanding. Devouring Will, dominating him. The glass fell from Hannibal’s hand and shattered upon the floor as he slid his free arm around Will’s side, pressing into him, pinning him to the door frame with his body. Will responded in kind, reaching up to grasp the back of Hannibal’s head while maintaining his grip on the tie. Their tongues dueled, each exploring the other’s mouth. It was every bit as feral and needy as he’d expected and then some. Will’s head spun, and when he broke the kiss to gasp for air, Hannibal’s teeth caught his lower lip, biting hard.

“Has that satisfied you, Will?” he rasped into Will’s ear, nipping at the lobe.

“Barely,” he breathed. He rolled his hips, pressed himself against Hannibal, pleased to find the man as hard as he was. It was tangible proof that Will hadn’t imagined everything, hadn’t misinterpreted the signs.

Hannibal’s hand tightened in his hair and Will braced himself, still expecting Hannibal to stop whatever was happening here. Hannibal had never made mention of any lover or relationship, so Will couldn’t be certain how far he was willing to go.

Hannibal inhaled sharply. “You have done this before, yes?” he asked, licking Will’s neck.

“A—a few times. N—no—not since New Orleans,” he stammered.

“I will not be gentle with you, you understand this?”

A moan escaped Will and he ground his hips against the hard length of Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal pulled back to meet Will’s gaze. He was floored by the hunger he saw on Hannibal’s face, the lust he saw in his eyes.

“I believe we both dip our toes into the same darkness, Will. Do not hold back with me. You can view this as an extension of your therapy, it that helps. Let go. Use me to act out your deepest fantasies. Tell me, Will, how long have you wanted to fuck me? What do you want to do to me? Or for me to do to you?”

“I don’t know, I … it wasn’t a conscious decision. Not until tonight.”

“And what changed your mind so suddenly?”

Will felt his cheeks flush. “In the study … I saw your drawings…”

“Ahh, did I forget to put that one away?”

“Er, yes. But it made me think, and, well, these dreams I’ve been having, they’re about you, and I didn’t know what to do about all of it.”

“So you stayed and continued to drink.”

“Liquid courage?” Will offered, not even caring that Hannibal saw right through him.

“Am I that unapproachable?”

“You’re … intimidating. And this isn’t exactly an appropriate doctor-patient relationship, now is it?”

“Then let us move beyond that, shall we?”

Hannibal slid down Will’s body, falling to the floor at Will’s feet. Will’s breathing grew ragged, and he tightened his fist around the tie still clenched firmly in his hand. The sight of Hannibal before him, looking up expectantly, was a powerful one.

“Tell me,” Hannibal purred, palming Will’s pants over his painfully hard cock. “What do you want me to do to you?” He licked his lips as he waited for Will’s answer, and Will nearly lost it. He gave a strong tug on the tie, pulling Hannibal up to his knees, bringing his face even with Will’s crotch. Hannibal’s eyes dilated in response.

“Suck me,” he commanded, keeping the tension on the tie, knowing he was limiting Hannibal’s ability to breathe.

With a satisfied smirk, Hannibal undid Will’s belt and popped the button of his pants. When he took his time with the zipper, slowly dragging a finger down the length of Will’s shaft as he went, Will increased the pressure on the tie for a moment before releasing it, a silent reprimand for not moving faster. Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered, a look of pure bliss settling on his face before he refocused on Will. Skilled hands quickly freed Will from his boxers. Hannibal leaned forward, inhaling deeply as he stroked Will, gliding his thumb across the tip and gathering the drop of precum already there.

“I said suck, not tease,” he hissed, tightening his pull on the tie once more.

The resulting growl from Hannibal should not have been as hot as it was, and Will relaxed the tension as he bumped against the back of Hannibal’s throat with a groan. Hannibal drew back, letting his teeth scrape along the sides of Will’s cock.

“Fuck, yes. Take me,” he ground out past clenched teeth as he drove his hips forward. Hannibal didn’t stop him. He let Will use him, force his cock past his lips, into his mouth, his perfect goddamned mouth that always has something to say about everything, and now you can just shut the fuck up and suck my cock, and what do you have to say about that, Doctor? Will buried his fingers in the hair on top of Hannibal’s head with his free hand, grabbing tight. With an extra hard thrust, he drove in, pulling hard on the tie as he came.

The sound of Hannibal gagging around Will’s cock as his cum filled Hannibal’s mouth gave him an unhealthy sense of pride and accomplishment. To his credit, the man didn’t fight him, but tried his best to swallow as Will maintained his hold until the last spasm ended.

Will let his arms fall lax at his sides as his heartbeat returned to a normal pace. Ever the perfectionist, Hannibal licked him clean, gentling Will through every shudder.

“Christ,” Will exhaled. He looked down. Hannibal was disheveled, hair mussed, tie askew, a hungry gleam in his eye. “Was that too much? I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

Hannibal rose smoothly to his feet. “On the contrary, Will,” he said, wrapping his long fingers around Will’s neck. “That wasn’t nearly enough.”

 

 

Chapter Text

 

Hannibal tightened his hand around Will’s throat, noting with glee how his pupils dilated.

“I told you not to hold back, and it was beautiful. You revealed more to me in the past few minutes than you have in hours of discussion. I want you to embrace your desires, Will. Let yourself go, and bathe in glory of what lies beneath.”

“What lies beneath is dark and dangerous, Doctor Lecter.”

“Then let us bring it into the light, that we may see it in all it’s magnificent menace.” He slid his hands up, one to cup Will’s jaw that had firmly set, the other to fist tightly in the mass of soft brown curls at the crown of his head. He wanted so desperately to ravage Will, to leave him bloody and broken and begging for more. Stronger than that, though, was a need for Will’s complete surrender.

“Do you trust me, Will?”

He seemed to consider a moment before answering. “Not always."

Hannibal appreciated the honesty. He didn’t trust himself around Will, though for assuredly different reasons than whatever made Will hesitate.

Will you trust me? Would you like a safe word?”

Will’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

“I … probably shouldn’t, it’s probably the alcohol talking, but I feel safe with you right now. No safe word.”

Hannibal took a moment to savor the words. Eyes closed, he took several breaths, basking in the knowledge and power that Will had given him.

Without warning, he moved quickly, dragging Will into the kitchen by his hair. Hannibal shoved him against the counter, bending him backwards.

“Stay,” he commanded.

With great restraint, Hannibal took his time removing his jacket and draping it on a chair. The vest followed, folded neatly and laid carefully atop the jacket. Will straightened, but remained leaning against the counter where Hannibal had left him. Hannibal undid his cuff links and unbuttoned his shirt, adding it to the collection on the chair. The tie, he kept. It hung loose from his neck, unknotted, because he had plans for it. Will eyed the tie, and Hannibal was pleased to note the rise of his chest as he did.

“You may remove your clothing as well. Unless, of course, you’d like me to do it for you?” In an instant, Will had toed his shoes off and kicked them aside, quickly tossing his trousers and t-shirt into a pile in the general direction of Hannibal’s clothes. Hannibal let a small sigh escape, and rolled his eyes behind closed lids.

“Is there a problem?” Will asked, eyes glinting with mischief. They stood facing each other, clad now only in their boxers.

“For you. Not me.”

Will’s breath caught.

“Are you sure you want to do this dance with me, Will? This is your last chance. I won’t ask for permission again.” Hannibal saw the way Will’s hands tightened their grip on the edge of the counter, the way his legs dipped slightly, and how his eyes darkened. He could feel the desperation coming from Will.

“God, please…” Will closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Hannibal watched his Adam’s apple bob as Will swallowed and tried to voice the words. Hannibal needed to hear those words more than he needed his next breath. He needed them more than he needed to feel himself buried to the hilt inside Will’s perfect ass.

“Please what, Will?” he asked, closing the distance between them and caging Will with his arms, looming over him.

His eyes opened, a hunger to them that Hannibal had only seen after Will had killed Hobbs. For a moment, their gazes locked, the only sound their heavy breathing.

“Use me,” he whispered. “Punish me.”

“There will be no going back from this. From what you will see of yourself. And of me.”

Will raised a hand, tentatively caressing Hannibal’s cheek. “I want to see.”

Unable to stop himself, Hannibal leaned into Will’s touch, allowing himself a single moment of tenderness. Allowing Will to see that he was Hannibal’s one weakness. Hannibal felt Will’s tension ease as his body relaxed. That was how he knew it was time to start.

Hannibal turned his face in Will’s hand, biting hard on the fleshy pad of his palm. Will cried out in shock, his body arching up into Hannibal’s. He wrapped one arm around Will’s shoulders, holding the nape of his neck as he plunged his tongue into Will’s mouth once more. His other hand grabbed roughly at Will’s ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Will moaned and rolled his hips, rubbing himself against Hannibal. Hannibal ground against him in response, pressing Will’s back into the counter forcefully.

Will dug his fingers into Hannibal’s back, his blunt nails biting into the skin. Hannibal dipped his head to Will’s chest, biting the pectoral hard just above his heart. A deep growl rumbled through Will, and his arms flailed to the sides, knocking over items on the counter top.

“Such impudence from you this evening, Will. I do believe I must teach you a lesson.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m a terrible student.”

Hannibal paused, trying to ascertain if Will spoke the truth, or merely what he thought Hannibal wanted to hear.

“In that case, I shall have to redouble my efforts as your teacher.” Regardless of Will’s motives, the resulting moan that escaped his kiss-swollen lips was more than enough to spur Hannibal on. He spun Will around, bent him forward, and trailed a finger down his spine. Will’s back presented a beautiful canvas, one that Hannibal longed to mark, to brand him now and forever as belonging to Hannibal. Because it would be forever, of that he was certain. Nobody would ever satisfy Will’s darkest cravings the way Hannibal could. Once he had a taste of that, Will would be begging him for more.

Hannibal stepped away, confident that Will would remain in place. He was pleased to find his assumption correct. From the knife block he retrieved a simple utility knife, not too large or small, one that wouldn’t do any excessive damage. From the workstation next to the stove, he grabbed the decanter of olive oil. It was time to see just how far he could push Will before he broke.

 

Chapter Text

Will waited for Hannibal’s return, the anticipation fueling crazy ideas about what the man might be doing or preparing for him. The bite wound on his chest throbbed in time with the accelerated rate of his pulse. He tried to regulate his breathing, to center himself and focus on what was happening instead of wondering what might be happening. There were so many things, secret cravings, that Will wanted someone to some day do to him. He’d been suspecting for a while that Hannibal had a much darker side, one that maybe, just maybe—oh God, what is that?

Something cold and hard pressed into his shoulder blade, and Will hissed at the burning sting that followed in a smooth arc across his back. He held the edges of the counter, knuckles going white with the force of his his grip. The process was repeated on the other side.

“Breathe,” Hannibal murmured, hand rubbing comfortingly along his spine. Will drew in a jagged breath, adrenaline coursing through him. “You are so perfect, Will. I don’t even have to restrain you, do I? You want me to hurt you.”

Hannibal continued the assault on Will’s senses. One hand comforted, while the other created more stinging, more pain, in short little bursts on each of his shoulders. Through the haze of endorphins, Will vaguely wondered what Hannibal was cutting him with. He knew the knives were kept razor-sharp, and couldn’t tell how much pressure was actually being applied.

At some point, Hannibal stopped cutting. Will couldn’t be sure when, because he was too busy floating, euphoric from the pleasure-pain combination. Behind him, he registered Hannibal’s body close to his, warmth surrounding him as Hannibal leaned in, licking along the lines he’d etched. He braced an arm on the counter next to Will, slamming the knife down next to his face. Will stared at the crimson staining the blade as Hannibal’s cock rubbed between the cheeks of his ass. His boxers had apparently disappeared while he was floating, which neither surprised nor fazed him.

Hannibal was coated with something warm and slick, easing his passage along Will’s cleft. Will wasn’t given much time to speculate what the substance might be, however. Strong hands grasped him firmly, spread his ass wide as Hannibal speared him, driving his cock into Will, forcing himself inside with no preparation, no warning.

Will shouted in surprise.

It was violent.

It was painful.

It was bloody.

It was beautiful, and Will nearly came from the joy.

With another rough thrust, Hannibal buried his cock into Will completely. Will found the edge of the counter digging into his stomach as Hannibal’s hips pushed against him, pinning him there. Long fingers dug into his hair, yanking his head up and bringing his upper body with it.

Hannibal’s breath came fast in his ear, a sign of how affected the man was.

“Is this what you want? What you think you deserve? To be abused, punished, my toy to be broken?” The questions were punctuated by thrusts.

“Yes,” Will gasped, eyes closed, his face most likely appearing every bit as rapturous as the fantasy picture Hannibal had drawn. Soft satin slid along Will’s throat. Hannibal pulled tight on the tie and Will leaned back into him. Every movement of their bodies together caused the hair on Hannibal’s chest to push into Will’s wounds, irritating them and creating little random pinpricks of pain in counterpoint to the pain of Hannibal’s thick cock stretching Will mercilessly.

“I have marked you, Will. Claimed you. You will remember this moment forever. The moment you became one with all the beautiful darkness within. The moment the pain set you free.” He slid the tie up, over Will’s chin, pulling it between his teeth, yanking hard, making a handle and a gag at the same time.

His body had begun to accommodate Hannibal, accept him, welcome the intrusion. More of whatever substance Hannibal was using for lube was poured over them, coating his ass and Hannibal’s cock, enabling him to slide quickly and easily in and out of Will. He knew that if he turned his head and opened his eyes, he’d likely be able to see what it was. But he didn’t want to know what it really was. Not yet. The idea that it could be blood—possibly even his own—was disturbingly enticing to him. His head swam with visions of he and Hannibal, naked, covered in blood, fucking each other with abandon. Will was unable to contain the moan that escaped him at the image.

“What do you see, Will? What fantasies dance behind your eyes?” Hannibal asked, slackening his hold on the tie.

“Blood,” he gasped, unable to voice anything further.

“Whose blood?”

Will groaned as Hannibal thrust again, pivoting his hips and rubbing over Will’s prostate.

“Whose?”

“Yours. Mine. Don’t know.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“I am not currently bleeding. Do you wish to change that?”

Will shuddered, dropping more of his weight against Hannibal even as his hand groped for the knife on the cold marble. This man is clearly a psychopath. Why does that turn me on so much?

Hannibal pushed Will away and stepped back. Will stood at the counter, knife clenched firmly in his hand, his back to Hannibal. How far am I willing to go? How deep is this rabbit hole?

A glance to his left showed the bottle of Talisker nearby, not too far out of reach. Will knew from previous evenings spent in Hannibal’s company that this particular whiskey was outrageously rare and expensive, somewhere in the neighborhood of four thousand dollars a bottle. It was also outrageously delicious, and only appeared when Will was around. Hannibal had opened the bottle for the first time with Will, citing it as a birthday gift.

Will stretched for the bottle, the movement pulling at the cuts on his back. The copper tang of blood hit his nose, and he knew he didn’t want to end this. Not now that they’d started. Not now that Hannibal seemed to know exactly what Will had always feared to acknowledge, and instead of being repulsed, he embraced it, encouraged it.

As he’d said, Hannibal had claimed Will and set him free.

Will took a long pull from the bottle, enjoying the smooth taste and spreading warmth even as he blasphemed the wondrous liquid by drinking it in such a manner. He set the bottle carefully back in place before turning to find Hannibal standing, waiting patiently for Will to determine the direction of their actions. His eyes flicked down to the knife before he held Will’s gaze, a tiny curve lifting one corner of his mouth.

Slowly, Will advanced on Hannibal.

 

Chapter Text

Will honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more: kiss, fuck, or cut Hannibal. While he closed the distance between them, Hannibal stood steady, waiting for Will with that maddening little half-smirk on his lips. He grabbed Hannibal by the throat, tipping his chin up. Forcing him backwards, Will pushed Hannibal the remaining few steps until they crashed against the wall, mouths locked together. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as Hannibal arched his body into Will’s, grinding their hips together in a primal dance.

He dropped his face to Hannibal’s neck, nipped at his shoulder before continuing lower. A low moan escaped Hannibal as Will bit into his chest, mirroring the wound he’d given Will. He looked up to find Hannibal’s eyes closed, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for air, all the while kneading Will’s ass. He’d never seen Hannibal so vulnerable, without the seemingly impervious self-control the man possessed. To realize he was the source of Hannibal’s undoing was a heady feeling. He was curious to see how many more layers he could peel away, how deep into the real Hannibal he could get.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the knife in Will’s hand pressed into the taut skin of Hannibal’s abdomen without any conscious act on his part. He watched the skin around the metal bend, give in, turn white before reaching it’s breaking point. Then he watched the blooming of red, running along the edge of the blade, mixing with the remains of his own blood there, as he dragged the razor edge down at an angle. Three more angled marks followed before Will fell to his knees. With his empty hand he caressed the brand, smearing the blood across Hannibal’s body, coating his palm. He took Hannibal’s length in hand, noting the blood already there and acknowledging the fact that alcohol and adrenaline were all that kept him from feeling the pain he rightfully should be.

Will licked Hannibal from base to tip, the metallic taste of their mixed blood combining with the salty musk.

“Will,” Hannibal gasped as a tremor ran through his body.

Will tossed the knife aside. It clattered across the floor as he grabbed Hannibal’s arms and dragged him down to the floor with him. Hannibal used his momentum to push Will backwards onto the cold tile, the friction and movement pulling at the cuts on his back, and he winced. Bent in half, knees by his face, Will hissed as Hannibal entered him once more and the tears from earlier stretched further. He clutched at the back of Hannibal’s head, pulling hard at the short hair there and he sought something to hold onto.

“So perfect,” Hannibal murmured as he nosed Will’s face. Their bodies rocked together, Hannibal thrusting as Will could do nothing but cling to him. With one arm Hannibal held Will’s leg at a painful angle. His other was braced against the floor beside Will’s head, the only thing keeping them from sliding along the smooth surface made slick by the blood flowing from his wounds.

Will ached for release, unable to remember the last time he’d been so turned on, so hard, especially after a blowjob not so long ago. A slight shift of position had Hannibal rubbing over his prostate again and Will tightened his grasp on Hannibal, blunt fingernails digging into the man’s back as he tried to get even closer, pull Hannibal even deeper inside.

“Give yourself to me, Will. Let go. Don’t think, just feel. Close your eyes and see whatever it is you wish to.”

Will felt every millimeter of Hannibal’s cock as it slipped in and out of his battered hole. Every thrust in, every retreat out, was laced with pain. Hannibal had claimed him, all right. He’d forced himself inside Will in the most intimate of ways possible, in the most painful way possible. The fact was that Will had wanted it, wanted the rough, wild, unpredictable sex. He didn’t want tender kisses and gentle preparation. He wanted the blood, wanted to be consumed by Hannibal.

In his mind’s eye, Will focused on the pain. The tears he knew were there, that he knew were bleeding. His blood, coating Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal’s blood mixed in as well, thanks to the cuts scored into him by Will. It couldn’t get more intimate than that. They were closer than any amount of preparation or lube would have ever gotten them.

“You are mine now.” The deep growl came through clenched teeth, through a jaw firmly set and pressed into Will’s cheek. He’s holding back. Still. Waiting for me.

Hannibal’s abdomen stroked Will’s cock as his hips rolled, sliding wetly along his shaft. More blood. Blood that he’d drawn from Hannibal, now smeared along Will’s shaft.

“Yes,” Will gasped as he came, erupting, hot jets of cum covering them both.

Hannibal grunted, body going rigid. His arm wrapped around Will’s thigh and held him tight, so close that Will felt the prick of Hannibal’s pubic hair, felt every spasm of his sac, every pulse of his cock as his orgasm hit and he drove himself as far into Will as he could, filling him, giving himself at his most vulnerable to Will.

For several moments, neither of them moved.

Now that it was over, Will couldn’t help but wonder where they went from here.

Hannibal surprised him by pressing several soft kisses to his neck and shoulder as he spoke, the first one to break the spell.

“We should continue this upstairs.” Kiss. “I have a salve that will help relieve pain,”—kiss—“and expedite healing.” Kiss. “I need to wash your back before I can attend to the cuts.” Kiss. “After that we shall worry about finding you some sleepwear.”

Will gave a contented sigh. “What about the floor?” he asked as he rubbed his cheek along Hannibal’s.

“Now or later, it will clean the same. I’d rather see to you, first.”

 

Chapter Text

Despite all his warnings about not being gentle with him, Hannibal carefully disentangled himself from Will, acutely aware of every wince and flinch that ran through his body. He’d been perhaps a bit more forceful than intended, having gotten carried away in the moment. It had been ages since Hannibal had been so overcome. But Will’s surrender had been so complete, his responses so open, unfiltered…

Granted, there had been traces of MDMA remaining in Will’s drink which Hannibal had consumed and likely contributed to his own actions.

Hannibal acknowledged this, and filed the information away to examine later when he was no longer influenced.

He stood and helped Will to his feet. Will looked back down to the floor, and the smear of blood there.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Will. This is a non-porous surface. It won’t stain. I shall clean it later. After I have attended to you.” He cupped Will’s cheek, turning him to face forward once more. There was a light in Will’s eyes, a spark of something Hannibal didn’t dare to name. He closed his own eyes, brushing his lips over Will’s. “Upstairs. Now.”

A soft moan emanated from Will as he leaned into Hannibal, into the kiss. Hannibal captured Will’s lower lip between his teeth and nipped. Not too hard, not enough to break the skin, but enough to get his attention.

“Go.”

With a laugh, Will turned. Hannibal caught Will’s hand as he trailed behind, finding himself loathe to break physical contact. A giddy smile curved Will’s lips as he shot a glance over his shoulder when he reached the top of the stairs.

“You know, all the time I’ve spent at your home, and I’ve never been off the main floor.”

Hannibal returned the smile and tipped his head in the direction of the master bedroom. Will hesitated for just a moment before striding confidently down the hall. Hannibal guided Will into the en suite with a light hand on the small of his back.

“Make sure to keep the water in front of you. You don’t want the spray hitting your back directly. I will help you wash.”

Will’s eyebrows rose slightly, concern edging his voice. “Are the cuts that deep? Did the good doctor get carried away?”

“Deep? No. Carried away? Perhaps.” Hannibal paused. “I must confess, Will. I often find myself losing control of my actions when with you. You … affect me. In ways I cannot explain or understand.” He retrieved fresh towels from the cabinet and arranged the needed medical supplies on the counter as he spoke, his discomfort at openly admitting this keeping him from meeting Will’s gaze.

Will appeared at his side, perching on the edge of the counter while Hannibal continued to fuss with the implements.

“Look at me, Hannibal.”

When he didn’t lift his head right away, Will reached over and did it for him. He waited until Hannibal met his eyes before speaking again.

“You’re not alone in that.”

Hannibal let his eyes close, leaning into Will’s palm. The words lifted a weight he hadn’t previously been aware of. Before he could speak, though, Will’s lips were once again on his own. Not rough this time, but sweet, gentle, reassuring. The tenderness there nearly broke Hannibal in that moment.

He was not a person who deserved tenderness and love.

“Come, Hannibal. Let’s get cleaned up so we can go to bed.” The unspoken promise in Will’s eyes did not escape Hannibal’s attention as he let Will drag him to the walk-in shower enclosure.

He tried to keep his actions clinical, focused on the task of cleaning Will and assuring himself that the hadn’t, in fact, cut too deeply. Will, however, appeared to have a different plan. Once Hannibal had finished washing him, Will stepped out of the water and coaxed Hannibal under it. The cuts on his abdomen stung, but Hannibal kept his back to Will as much as possible. He couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the emotion in those blue eyes. Yet again, Hannibal had gotten more than he’d expected from Will. Except this time, he didn’t know how to handle, process, and proceed with Will’s response.

Lost in his thoughts – and, admittedly, enjoying the feel of Will’s hands roaming his body – he didn’t notice what Will was doing until he felt a finger push inside him. He grunted, leaning forward a bit and bracing his hands against the wall.

“Marking my bathroom now, as well?” Hannibal gasped as Will’s finger massaged his prostate. “Not content to only have me think of this night every time I’m in my kitchen?”

“I will fuck you in every room of this house if I have to. I will lay claim to every little piece of you that I can, one at a time, so that one day I may eventually have the whole of you.” He withdrew his hand, and Hannibal felt the head of Will’s cock press against the tight ring of muscle, seeking entrance. Hannibal pushed back, encouraging without words. Will entered him with agonizing slowness, his fingers digging into Hannibal’s hips.

You already have me, he wanted to say, but the words died on his lips.

“Christ,” Will exhaled behind him. “You feel amazing. I’d forgotten.”

Hannibal hummed his agreement. He feared what he might say if he allowed himself to speak. The water cascaded down Hannibal’s back, collecting in the valley of their joining, easing Will’s passage. He let Will control him, let him have this as he’d let Hannibal have his way.

The act of submitting to Will was surprisingly arousing. Hannibal had allowed someone to dominate him in such a manner only one other time. It had been cold, detached, purely for educational purposes, an observation of the physical aspect and feeling. The idea of the act creating such an emotional response in him had never crossed his mind. After all, he was not prone to tender emotions, at least not toward other people. They either served a purpose for him, or not.

Behind him, Will’s thrusts had grown more forceful, his pace quickened. One arm snaked around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him upright. Hot water beat down on his face as Will’s forearm dug into his throat. Will groaned his release, then tightened his hold on him, pressing his mouth close to Hannibal’s ear.

“The next time you want to drug me, don’t.”

 

Chapter Text

Will shoved Hannibal away roughly and exited the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he crossed his arms and faced Hannibal as he, too, exited. He at least had the decency to look guilty as Will glared at him.

“I have upset you.”

“You fucking think?”

Will grabbed the jar of ointment off the counter of the large double vanity and shoved it at Hannibal before he turned and gripped the edge of the sink, dropping his head to hide his reflection in the mirror. He had to stay angry. Otherwise he might cry. Which was stupid, Hannibal was nobody for him to cry over, but thanks to the drugs in his system, he wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered after the first tentative swipe of Hannibal’s fingers on his back.

After a moment, Hannibal cleared his throat. “I suppose it was because I was curious what you would do.”

Will’s head snapped up, their eyes locking in the mirror. “You were curious? You were curious what would happen if you gave Ecstasy – an empathogenic drug – to someone with a severe empathy disorder?” He caught the surprise that flashed across Hannibal’s face before he returned his attention to Will’s back. “Yes, I know what you gave me. It took me a little while to notice and figure it out, thanks to the liquor. I’m aware of the … unorthodox uses of it in psychotherapeutic settings. I’ve tried it.”

“I sought only to help you, Will. I gave you a very small dose.” Hannibal, for his part, at least sounded chastised and apologetic.

“All you had to do was ask.” He hated the emotion clogging his voice, hated the blur to his vision from the tears welling in his eyes as he watched Hannibal in the mirror, efficiently caring for him still. “Or were you so afraid that I’d refuse your advances?”

Hannibal’s jaw clenched, the tell-tale little tic of muscle that always gave him away when he was suppressing a response to something. Will turned to face him.

“I’m not done,” Hannibal said, a slightly exasperated tone edging his voice.

“Answer my question.”

His gaze landed on the bite mark he’d left on Will’s chest.

“As you said earlier,” Hannibal said, caressing salve over the wound. “This isn’t exactly an appropriate doctor-patient relationship, now is it? Would you have let me mark you in such a fashion if all your carefully constructed walls remained standing? Would the result have been the same? I think not.”

“Not my point, Hannibal.”

“Still, the correct one.”

“You’re such a presumptuous asshole.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched as he fought against smiling.

Will sighed. “I just wish you would have asked me first. About the Ex or just … me. I probably would have said yes in either case.” He scooped some ointment from the jar in Hannibal’s hand and spread it over the ‘W’ he’d carved into Hannibal’s abdomen.

Hannibal’s hand came to rest atop his, and their eyes met.

“Turn your head, Will. See what I have given you.”

Slowly, Will twisted his head to the side as far as he could, looking over his shoulder to see his reflection.

“Is that–, are those–, did you carve antlers on me?”

“It seemed appropriate. The Minnesota Shrike case is what first brought us together. You mentioned in our sessions that for a while afterward you often envisioned a stag when thinking about the case.”

“And when I think about you,” he added softly.

“Why is that, Will? This is something you have not told me before.” Hannibal managed to keep the shock from his voice, but the concern in his eyes was as clear as his reflection.

“I think you know why, Hannibal,” he said softly. “If you haven’t realized by now, I’ve been lying to Jack for months.”

In the mirror, Hannibal’s gaze shifted, from concern to approval. And then, from approval to something else. A flash of pride lit his eyes, before an emotion appeared Will once thought Hannibal incapable of—

He whipped his head forward, studying Hannibal’s face intently.

“Did you take some as well? Or was it just me?”

A wry grin twisted Hannibal’s lips.

“So observant. You really are quite remarkable, Will. I did indeed. Not as much as you, however. I ingested mine when I finished your drink.”

“So your walls are down as well.”

“I suppose you may be correct. To an extent.” Hannibal leaned in close, reaching over Will’s shoulders to resume his treatment of Will’s back. Will tipped his head up to look at Hannibal.

“You’ve suspected my knowledge for a while, haven’t you?”

“I have.” Hannibal taped gauze pads over the cuts. While necessary, Will was sad for the loss of visibility. He wanted to see his mark. Hannibal’s mark.

“I should be terrified of you. I know what you are capable of. Why am I not terrified?”

“I think you know why, Will,” Hannibal quipped without hesitation, repeating his own affirmation back to him.

“Because you can’t bring yourself to kill me.”

Hannibal placed the remaining supplies on the counter and exhaled heavily.

“Because I love you,” he said softly, combing his fingers through Will’s hair.

“People kill the ones they love every day,” Will deflected. Hannibal may have said the words, but he’d been unable to look Will in the eye when he’d said them.

“And you think my love would be as twisted as theirs?”

“I think you have an ideal of love. Whether or not you are capable of achieving that is something else entirely.”

“Is loving someone who accepts every aspect of your being without reproach not achieving that ideal?”

“Are you so sure that I accept you completely?”

“Would you be here if you didn’t?”

Before he could answer, Hannibal continued.

“Do you know what the great tragedy of our world is, Will? It’s not war, famine, poverty, any of the stories of woe you see on the news. The greatest tragedy is someone denying their greatest desires, their greatest dreams. It is someone torturing themselves daily, trying to fit into a mold that was never meant to contain them.” He trailed one finger lightly along Will’s jaw.

“And what is one to do, when they have broken free of that mold, only to find themselves abhorrent to the rest of society? Is it not better to stay in the mold?”

“Ah, that is why you need to find someone who shares your desires. It makes the tedium of society bearable when there is someone who understands you.”

Will’s gaze roamed Hannibal’s chest, lingering on the livid teeth marks. “I’m not a killer.”

“I will never ask you to be more than you are capable of in any given moment.”

“That sounds a whole lot like you want me to join you.”

“It sounds like I accept you. Every part of you. Even the parts you suppress.” Hannibal pressed Will’s hand to the cuts once more. “How did it feel, Will? How did you feel, cutting me, controlling me, dominating me?”

Will closed his eyes. He saw the blood coating the blade. Saw his cock shoved down Hannibal’s throat. Saw Hannibal bent before him, moaning, gasping. Felt the split second transition from lust to fear as Will held him, restrained him, threatened him.

Will shuddered. “It felt...”

“Tell me, Will.”

He bit the tip of his tongue.

“Say it,” Hannibal whispered against his lips.

“It was beautiful,” he breathed.

“And so were you.” Hannibal pulled Will close, kissing him deeply. Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist and found himself being lifted from the counter, carried to Hannibal’s bed.

 

*****

 

Will woke to the feel of the bed dipping as Hannibal sat at his side. The smell of coffee greeted him, and he noted the steam rising from a mug on the night stand. He rolled over and pushed himself to sitting, wincing slightly.

“You did insist,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s thigh.

Will grinned.

“A pain I will gladly endure.” He’d woken during the night needing the bathroom and found himself giddy with the reality of where he was and what had happened. Hannibal had woken when Will had tried slipping quietly back into bed and utterly failed. One thing had lead to another, and before he’d thought it through, he’d been on his knees, face-first into the mattress with Hannibal buried inside him. “Although, I will admit to likely needing a few days of rest.”

Hannibal sat quietly, watching Will closely as he drank his coffee.

“What?” he finally asked, growing uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Aside from the physical discomfort, how are you feeling this morning?”

“If you’re asking do I regret any choices I made or things I said, the answer is no. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I feel relieved, finally having everything out in the open.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Good. Then this is for you.” He produced a small, flat box from the pocket of his robe, wrapped in bright red paper with a green ribbon. Will cocked an eyebrow.

“You know, I’m never letting you wear that outfit out of the house.”

Hannibal laughed. “Perhaps I just need to get you a matching one.”

“I dare you. I’ll buy every ridiculous sweater I can find.”

The pure joy in Hannibal’s eyes was such a rare sight that Will found himself captivated for a moment by the hazel depths before Hannibal slid the gift across the bed to him.

“I didn’t get you anything,” he said, clearing his throat as he picked up the feather-light box.

“Last night you gave me more than I could have hoped for. Do not think of it.”

Will slowly untied the bow, removed the paper, and lifted the lid.

His breath caught when he saw what was inside.

“Are you sure about this, Hannibal?”

“I am. I did mean what I said last night, Will. I do love you. I have for quite some time, I must admit. I trust you. I want you to have this.”

“I’ll accept this on one condition.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to raise his brow. “And that is?”

“I know showing off is kind of your thing. But I’m going to need you to cut back on the killings. Or at least stop being so ostentatious about it and drawing Jack’s attention. I can only hide so much for you. And … don’t tell me if I’m eating someone. I’d rather continue not knowing.”

Hannibal reached forward and cupped the back of Will’s neck.

“Anything for you, my dear Will.”

Will smiled, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. And when he left Hannibal’s house later that day, it was with a new key in his pocket, hanging from a stag’s head keychain.