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Forgive and Forget

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“The same unfortunate aftershave.”

Of course that would be his primary response, Will thought, the aftershave.

“Too long in the bottle.” The doctor continued, seemingly unfazed by the fact that a man who’d tried to kill him twice and still had every reason to had broken into his house. Hannibal smiled and Will felt a surge of irritation. The man acted as if this were simply another one of their unusual encounters- God knows there had been quite a lot of those- and as if he hadn’t framed Will for his murders and nearly destroyed his life all under the guise of being his friend. It was infuriating.

He kept his face an emotionless mask as he slowly raised the gun and pointed it at his once-friend. He wondered whether the discomfort that flashed across the doctor’s face was genuine or not. Probably not.

“Our last kitchen conversation was interrupted.” He didn’t quite recognize his own voice, but he knew there was a little of Hannibal himself in it. “By Jack Crawford. I’d like to pick up where we left off. If memory serves, you were asking if it would feel good to kill you.”

“You’ve given that some thought.”

Understatement of the century. He had acted on that thought and his eyes automatically flickered to Hannibal’s wrists, hidden from his sight by layers of cloth. He had the sudden urge to see the fruits of his decision, reckless and short-sighted as it had been. He quelled it just as quickly.

“You wanted me to embrace my nature, doctor. I’m just following the urges I kept down for so long.” The words fell smoothly off his lips, provocative and mocking at the same time. “Cultivating them as the inspirations they are.”

“You never answered my question.” Hannibal replied, trying to appear unaffected, but Will could see the impact his words had on him, not on the human veil Hannibal Lecter presented to the rest of the world, but on the monster that lay underneath. He wanted to truly see that creature.

“How would killing me make you feel?”

“Righteous.” He hissed and raised the gun, taking no small amount of pleasure in Hannibal’s answering flinch. He had no intention of killing the man, though. Not anymore.

“Aren’t you curious, Will? Why you? Why Miriam Lass? What does the Chesapeake Ripper want with you?” His voice wasn’t quite desperate, but it held an urgency to it. It was no longer calm and impassive. Yet, he still twisted the words expertly and Will fought down a smile.

“You tell me. How did Miriam Lass find you? You made sure no one could find you that way again.”  No, Hannibal was far too smart for that. Still, he was curious to know what had given it away the first time. What had Lass seen?

He could see that the doctor was thinking, that exceptional mind analyzing, dissecting, deciding… His next words did not disappoint, though Will had to swallow down an amused chuckle at them.

“If I’m not the Ripper, you murder an innocent man.” The thought of Hannibal Lecter being innocent in any manner was so utterly ridiculous that Will didn’t even comment. “You, better than anyone, know what it’s like to be wrongly accused. You were innocent and no one saw it.”

“No, I’m not innocent. You saw to that.” He shot back, once again eyeing the scars hidden from him. Hannibal followed his gaze and the corners of his lips tilted up. A feral smile split Will’s face in response.

“If I am the Ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions? Don’t you want to know how this ends?”

He finally laughed out loud, a sharp, unpleasant sound born of dark amusement and grudging admiration. Hannibal’s eyes darkened and he swallowed, Will tracing the movement of his throat with his eyes, savoring it.

He stepped forward, gun still raised and ready, forcing the psychiatrist to instinctively back away. Will continued advancing until the older man was flush against the fridge, the door closing under his weight. He didn’t stop until he was almost pressed up against Hannibal. He placed both hands on the fridge, caging the other in, gun dangling uselessly from one hand. He could feel the heat emanating from the doctor, hear his breath quicken and smell the unique, spicy scent he was all too familiar with.

“Alana came to my house, with my dogs,” he whispered, lips ghosting over Hannibal’s. “She wanted to know if you were safe. From me and for her, though she would never acknowledge the latter.”

He could feel the man drawing in a deep breath, their chests brushing against each other at the motion. But that did little to hide the breathlessness of his voice when he finally spoke.

“She has known me for a while.” The words were quiet, intimate. Will parted his lips as if to taste them. “I can imagine why she would be appalled at the thought of me being a murderer.”

Will leaned in further, until his lips were brushing the shell of Hannibal’s ear. He could feel a faint shudder course through the body he was pressed against.

“But you are, aren’t you? A murderer,” he breathed against the cool flesh, the final word a soft, velvety caress; an endearment, almost. He smiled at the doctor’s sharp gasp.

In a second, he had torn himself away from Hannibal and was gone, leaving a stunned and aroused man in his wake.



Hannibal stared at the empty seat in front of him, nursing a glass of wine. In his mind’s eye, he saw Will Graham- the old one, the one who’d relied on him and thought of him as an anchor, the one who’d nearly wept when he thought that Hannibal had been killed by Tobias Budge. He was quite sure that Will Graham had loved him. He had seen very little of that Will in the man who had cornered him in the kitchen the other day, who had pointed a gun at his head with cold detachment which later gave way to dark amusement, who now possessed an aura of assurance that Hannibal felt both attracted to and wary of. That man who looked a monster in the eye and smiled.

Two versions of the same man. Hannibal wasn’t sure which the one he preferred was. The old one was so… malleable. Hannibal could see himself molding that one into something glorious. He had attempted the same. But the new version of him was made of marble, with hard edges. And while he knew that he’d played a part in the transformation, the end product was something completely out of his grasp. Unpredictable as Will had always been and much more dangerous. A potential equal.

A knock on the door drew him out of his musings. This was Will’s hour, so the chances of it being a patient were quite slim. He was momentarily tempted not to answer, but he stood up nonetheless. He opened the door, masking his irritation at the interruption, and was struck speechless by the sight of none other than the very man lodged in his thoughts.

Only, Will looked… different. Breathtaking.

“May I come in?”

It took phenomenal self control to keep his voice steady when he replied.

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?”

“Not tonight.” Was the answer he received and he had to fight down a fond smile as Will stepped inside.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“Only you.” He was aware that his voice more affectionate that it had any right to be, but he made no effort to conceal it.

When he next spoke, Will’s voice was completely neutral in a way it’d never been prior to his incarceration, “You kept my standing appointment open?”

“And you’re right on time.”

Will wandered further into the office, still not turning to face Hannibal. “I have to deal with you,” he said, voice soft and cautious, “And my feelings about you. I think it’s best if I do that directly.”

“First, you have to grieve for what is lost. And what has changed.” The words were hollow. He knew it. Will knew it. Yet, they had to be said.

“I’ve changed.” Will replied, turning to face him and there was something in his eyes that sent a chill up his spine. “You’ve changed me.”

“The friendship we had is over.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue, but they were true nonetheless. It would be impossible for them to resume that relationship. Too much had changed. Will had changed. “The Chesapeake Ripper is over.”

“It had to be Miriam Lass, didn’t it? She was… compelled to take his life so she could take her own back.” There was something in Will’s tone that made it quite clear that he didn’t believe for one second that Chilton had been the Ripper. Good. That deception was for others, not Will.

“How will you take your life back?”

Will smiled at that, an expression that was nothing like his old smiles. Those were quick, uncertain things; awkward and endearing. This was a cold twist of the lips, almost predatory. His breath hitched at the sight.

“I’d like to resume my therapy.” And then he walked to the seat he’d often occupied and sat down, looking expectantly at Hannibal. He took his own seat in a daze and if he was not so sure of his control on his own mind, he’d be tempted to believe this was all just a hallucination. His voice was slightly breathless when he spoke.

“Where shall we begin?”

“Take your pick, Hannibal.” Will’s eyes were intense, focused and they held his gaze with unprecedented ease. It was rather unsettling, even though this was precisely what he desired for oh-so-long.

“It is usually the patient and not the therapist who chooses what they want to discuss.”

Something shifted in the younger man’s expression as he leaned forward and Hannibal caught a fleeting glimpse of the man who had cornered him in his own kitchen and pinned him with his body and his words.

“Oh, but we’ve never been normal. Why start now?”

Hannibal swallowed, feeling more human than he has in a very long time. Will’s eyes darkened at the action and his gaze lingered on his throat before slowly travelling up to meet Hannibal’s. His lips curled as he waited for the doctor to speak.

“I suppose that’s true. Shall we start where we left off?”

“Alana Bloom?” Will raised an eyebrow, as if bemused by his choice. “She won’t approve of this, you know. She’ll probably try to convince you to give me a referral. For your sake, of course.” Will seemed merely amused instead of upset or angry over Alana’s blatant distrust of him, just like he’d been the other night. Did he no longer care for her?

“How do you think she sees you now?” Hannibal asked, genuinely interested in the answer. The empath’s feelings for her had been quite strong and protective before. That, however, was not the impression he received from the man in front of him. Instead of answering immediately, Will stood up, the movement smooth and graceful, and covered the short distance between the two of them. Hannibal almost expected some form of violence, but Will simply circled around until he was right behind Hannibal, his fingertips resting on the smooth black leather of his chair.

His instincts- honed to perfection over the years- all but screamed at him to eliminate the threat (and Will was very much a threat), but he forced himself to remain absolutely still. The hands on the back of his chair crept forward until they were resting on either of Hannibal’s shoulders. The younger man let out a delighted chuckle, as if he knew precisely what Hannibal was trying not to do and approved. He probably did.

Will’s voice was low and soft when he replied, “Dr Bloom probably believes that I… opened a door inside of myself that no one knows how to close, when I tried to have you killed. She is probably scared of all the nasty little things that may emerge from inside.”

Suddenly, there were hot puffs of air against the shell of his ear as Will bent down, the hands on his shoulders sliding sensually to wrap loosely around his torso. Hannibal’s pulse picked up speed.

“She’s right.” The words were whispered into his ear like a confession, but there was no guilt or shame behind them. If anything, Will sounded pleased.

Soft lips traced the shell of his ear and moved up to his hair, the pressure light and heavy at the same time. He heard Will draw in a deep breath, nose buried in his hair. Hannibal remained still as stone, not entirely sure what was happening and reluctant to end it with any interruption on his part.

After Will had his fill of the doctor’s scent, he once again placed his lips near his ear. “You’d love that though, wouldn’t you? To know that I’ve finally embraced the darkness inside myself.” Will pressed his face to the older man’s cheek, mouthing the words against the flushed skin. “It’s what you wanted, after all. What you tried so hard to achieve.” There was a hint of teeth against his skin, gone as soon as he felt it. “So tell me… are you satisfied, doctor?”

Phenomenal self-control or not, one could only resist such beautiful temptation for so long.

Hannibal reached and gripped the back of Will’s neck as he pulled him back, turning his own face so he could claim those lips with his own as he’d desired for so very long. Will moved with inhuman speed, one of the arms wrapped around Hannibal rising up to catch the psychiatrist’s chin in a bruising grip, fingers digging painfully into flesh. Their mouths were a mere centimeter apart and he could feel the words brush against his lips when Will spoke.

“Oh, you can’t have it all, Hannibal. You already have Alana.” The fingers dug in deeper and he bit back a moan. “You can’t have me as well.”

“Alana is inconsequential.” The words were muffled, but Will did not let up.

The profiler smiled- all teeth and mockery- and bit down, hard, on Hannibal’s bottom lip, sharp teeth easily drawing blood. This time, Hannibal did moan as Will sucked and licked, not wasting even a drop. He fisted his hands in the younger man’s hair, eyes fluttering close at the sensation.

It was over all too soon and Will released him, pulling back from Hannibal’s grip. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of a flushed, bright-eyed Will Graham, with tousled hair and bloodied lips.

The view sent a jolt straight to his groin.

“Prove it then.” Was all he said before he walked over to his coat, put it on and let himself out of the room.

A tiny part of Hannibal’s brain that was still capable of rational thought noted that this was the second time Will left him like this.



Hannibal had no idea what game Will was playing. He knew the profiler had some agenda, but he could no longer read the man. True, Will always had been a little unpredictable to him, but the encephalitis and his dependency on Hannibal had worked greatly in his favor.

The darkness in Will was no longer elusive. Instead, it pulsed within him and lay over him like a cloak. It was beautiful. And so very dangerous. Hannibal had the distinct feeling that he’d unleashed a beast that was far beyond his control.

The thought was exhilarating.

But while Hannibal wasn’t entirely sure what Will’s intentions were, he was quite certain that the effort to terminate his relationship with Alana was in order to protect the young woman. He was also equally certain that Will desired him so he had no qualms about indulging him. He knew full well that his affair with Alana would eventually result her death anyway. Her seduction had had two purposes; one was to give him an alibi for Abel Gideon’s disappearance while the other had been retaliation for Will’s attempted murder. Because, while he had been delighted that Will finally embraced that part of himself, his chosen method had irked Hannibal.

As fond as he was of Alana, he had been serious when he told Will she was inconsequential. He had proved that when he sent Gideon to her.

Putting his thoughts aside, he smiled at the lovely woman in front of him as she laughed and talked, oblivious to his slight preoccupation. Will seemed to be practically invading his mind these days. It was only fair, he supposed, given how he had tampered with the empath’s mind without permission. Still, when Alana had called that evening to ask if she could come over, Hannibal had agreed quite readily. It was a perfect opportunity to finish things with her.

He’d deduced from her tone that the reason for this visit was not romantic, but they had yet to talk about anything other than the current case and other mundane things. They were settled comfortably in Hannibal’s living room, each cradling their preferred beverages.

He knew, from the tight set of her shoulders and the shift in her scent, that she was about to broach the topic that brought her there even before she spoke. “You know,” she began, carefully but with an air about her that made it quite clear that she believed she was right, “the only thing stranger than finding a woman in a horse’s stomach is seeing Will graham back in therapy. With you.”

Alana was so wonderfully predictable without being too boring.

“I am sorry you feel that way, but I have to admit that I wouldn’t change anything that led to Will resuming his therapy with me.”

“He tried to kill you, Hannibal.” Her tone was earnest, almost pleading; so desperately concerned for him. He wanted to smile.

“Do you know why he did that? He wasn’t trying to avenge Beverly Katz’s death; he was trying to prevent yours.” The words were uttered gently, but the intended effect was anything but. He knew Alana felt a tremendous amount of guilt for abandoning Will, no matter what the reason. His words- and they were the truth- pulled at that guilt, dragging it out of the confines of her mind and into her wonderfully expressive eyes so that he could drink it in. Her pain was palpable in the air and her body was unconsciously asking to be held and comforted.

Now would be the time for him to approach her, wrap his arms around her, take her to bed and proceed to drive away all thoughts of Will Graham and the accompanying guilt from her mind.

He does nothing of the sort.

He didn’t even move from his position on the couch as Alana visibly pulled herself together, shooting him a small smile meant to convey that she was alright. He returned the smile, anticipating her next move. He wasn’t disappointed.

Slowly, she set her glass- still half-full with specially brewed beer- down and stood up, walking towards Hannibal with heated eyes and a slight sway to her hips. It was an enticing sight, but Hannibal undoubtedly preferred the smooth, predatory gait of a certain profiler to this.

He kept his face stoic and unassuming until she made to settle down on his lap. Then, schooling his features into an expression of apologetic regret, he held out a hand to stop her. Inwardly amused at the shock and hurt that flashed across her face, he said, “I don’t think this is such a good idea, Alana…”



Now that his next appointment with Hannibal was fast approaching, Will found himself relieving the conversation with Jack over and over, viewing it in his mind with equal parts amusement and disdain. It was funny, how Jack thought he would just forget how easily he abandoned him and get back to working for him, just like that, because of a half-assed apology. It seemed that Jack still expected him to do all the work, not quite caring about the immense danger it placed him in. You’d think he’d learned his lesson with Lass.

Pity the game Will was playing was not quite the one Jack thought he was playing.

The thing was, the door he’d opened inside himself… it had been more of a re-opening than anything else. Only this time, he had no intention of closing it. Not even Hannibal knew this, but he would soon.

Will was quite sure that he would never fully forgive the doctor for betraying his trust just like a part of him would always want to kill him; feel that glorious specimen of a man go limp beneath him, watch the light leave those beautiful burgundy eyes. He just knew that Hannibal would be beautiful in death.

But he would suppress those parts of himself because he very much preferred Hannibal to be alive.

He could now see the doctor for all that he was, past the flawless human veil into the depths of his soul.

And he liked what he saw.



Their new case was quite intriguing but that was not what Will wanted to discuss with Hannibal. But he patiently played along, never once taking his eyes off from Hannibal’s.

When he finally saw an opening to steer the conversation into more… interesting waters, he seized it happily.

“No. You nearly destroyed me.” The words hung heavy in the air, but the psychiatrist did not miss a beat in responding. The words were bland and hollow and Will felt a surge of irritation at all this cloak and dagger bullshit.

“Stop right there. You may have to pretend, but I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” The words were softly spoken, affection coloring them. Will held back a smile.

“I don’t expect you to admit to anything, but I prefer sins of omission to outright lies, Dr Lecter.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He made no effort to hide the threat behind the words, instead allowing his eyes and voice show that there would be retaliation if the demand was not met.

“Will you return the courtesy?” Hannibal asked and he smiled, nodding. Of course he’d return the courtesy. All Hannibal had to do was ask the right questions.

“Why did you resume therapy?” The query was a bit predictable, but it was a valid concern, so he answered honestly. “Can’t talk to just any psychiatrist about what’s kicking around in my head.” What he meant was, no one would be able to truly appreciate it like Hannibal. The message got across nonetheless if the pleased look in his eyes was anything to go by.

That wasn’t Will’s only reason, but Hannibal didn’t push further.

“Do you fantasize about killing me?”

Will felt his lips twist into a smile, delighted at this line of questioning.

 “Yes,” he all but purred the word and watched how Hannibal’s pupils dilated in response.

“How would you do it?” There was genuine curiosity as well as a hint of arousal in his voice and Will felt his own breathing pick up marginally. His voice was breathy and intimate when he replied.

“With my hands.” Hannibal closed his eyes and swallowed, drawing Will’s eyes to the pale skin of his neck. He was hit by a savage desire to feel that throat beneath his lips, to feel flesh part under his teeth and taste Hannibal’s life on his tongue. He let out a shuddering breath.

“I need to know if you’re going to try and kill me again, Will.” Hannibal sounded like he didn’t know which answer would please him more: Yes or No. Will knew exactly how he felt.

“I don’t want to kill you, Dr Lecter, now that I finally find you interesting.” His eyes flashed open, pupils fully dilated, the exotic maroon shade nearly swallowed up by abysmal black. Will grinned, a feral baring of teeth, and leaned forward in his chair, drinking in the sight of his flustered psychiatrist.

“That’s not all I fantasize about, Hannibal.” The words were whispered in a low voice, a threat and a promise rolled into one. “I want to fuck you just as much as I want to kill you.”

He grinned wider as the older man froze, Hannibal visibly trying to bring himself back under control. He took no small amount of pleasure in the knowledge that he could affect him like this with words alone. Then again, words were weapons, especially to the likes of them.

Hannibal’s eyes were wide and laden with lust even as he brought his breathing back under control. Will leaned back in his seat and affected a casual air into his next question, “How is Dr Bloom?” He received an amused smile in return and the doctor’s voice was infuriatingly calm when he replied, free of the dark desire that Will could see in his eyes.

“Rather upset, I believe. She is currently under the impression that she made certain… assumptions about our relationship.”

Will chuckled, genuinely amused. Leave it to Hannibal to instigate a break up and make his partner feel guilty.

“You know, I half expected you to just kill her. I’m sure it occurred to you.” He had, after all, told Hannibal to prove that Alana was inconsequential. That could be interpreted in a number of ways. But his words provided him with the exquisite pleasure of seeing genuine shock settle into Hannibal’s expression, and Will realized that Hannibal thought he was simply trying to protect Alana. “You believed I was trying to keep her safe from you, didn’t you?”

The only answer he received was a cautious nod, paired with a searching gaze. The reply had thrown Hannibal and he was wary; re-evaluating all he knew about Will. He’d give him more to go on soon enough. He leaned forward, perching on the very edge of his chair, happily braving the assessing gaze trained on him

“You see, Hannibal, I’m not really the type to forgive and forget.” That was intended for the doctor as well and he could see the message was received, but they could concentrate on that at a later time. “And even on the rare occasions I do forgive, I rarely forget.”

He stood up and stalked towards Hannibal, stopping just short of his legs, staring down at the most brilliantly dangerous man he’d ever met.

“I very much dislike being betrayed. But-” he eased himself onto the chair, his knees sinking into the plush leather on either side of the older man’s thighs, arms beside his shoulders, caging him in. “- for you, I can make an exception.”

“Oh?” Hannibal breathed, “And why is that, William?” the way he said his name was almost sinful, the doctor’s exotic accent deliberately caressing the syllables suggestively. A shudder ran through his body and Will closed his eyes at the sensation. When he opened them, Hannibal was staring at him with something akin to worship I his eyes.

He felt powerful in that moment, even more than he did when he killed.

“I think you know why.” He leaned forward so their bodies were even closer, “After all, you and I are just alike.”

Will kissed him then, a hungry clash of lips and teeth that held no amount of tenderness, fuelled by a heady mixture of anger, lust, awe and frustration. Hannibal’s hand twisted in his shirt as their tongues battled for dominance, Will licking his way into his mouth, lapping and sucking greedily. When they finally parted for much needed air, he was fully settled in the older man’s lap and his hands were buried in ashen hair. Hannibal looked deliciously disheveled; eyes bright, skin flushed and the normally neat hair in absolute disarray.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs was not my first kill.” He whispered against Hannibal’s lips, pulling back to watch his eyes widen in shock at that little bombshell. “Far from it… How do you think I learned to let all those killers in and still be myself?” he smiled and nipped his way down the stunned man’s throat. A particularly harsh bite tore a moan from him and he gripped Will’s hair, roughly pulling him up so he could look into his eyes.

“Tell me…”

A part of him wanted to do just that while another part of him wanted to drag Hannibal to the floor and fuck him senseless. Briefly, he contemplated doing both, but decided against it. Maybe next time.

With considerable effort, he wrenched himself from Hannibal, both parties reluctant to lose the contact. It was rather amusing to see lust warring with curiosity on that chiseled face.

Will settled back on his chair, not bothering to pull together the ripped edges of his shirt. Hannibal had one hell of a grip. Said man was looking at him expectantly, lips swollen red and pupils blown wide. It was a beautiful sight. Leaning back, he began recounting events he’d never told anyone else in his entire life.

“I have always been… fascinated by certain serial killers. A bit too fascinated, actually. I was showing signs of instability by the time I was in college. They were subtle and everyone else missed them, especially as I had no friends. I knew they were there, though. I could barely talk to a person without imagining numerous ways to kill them. And I wanted it, Hannibal, I wanted to kill them, if only to know how it felt. I wanted to know if it would feel… good.” Those had been the most stressful years of his life, his fragile moral code warring valiantly with the desires he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried. “I was quite a popular target for bullies though, especially since I never fought back, not physically at least. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to stop before I got too far. Then, one of them went too far, broke my arm and cracked a couple of ribs.” It had been the result of a pathetic, pointless scuffle but while the memory amused him now, he hadn’t been so pleased back then. “I told everyone I fell down the stairs. He kept his mouth shut too, probably thinking I was either too embarrassed or too scared to tell the truth.” Their reasons for their respective silences had been vastly different, though. The moment Will’s body had hit the asphalt, he’d decided to do the hell away with his clingy morals and give into the monster squirming underneath his skin. It had been the monster that emerged with the broken bones and lied to the doctors and teachers, eagerly biding his time. Bradley Parker- his attacker- had been marked for death from that moment.

“I wasn’t even nervous, too many killers lurking in my mind for that. I was extra-careful though.” He didn’t elaborate further. Maybe he would, one day. But for now, the sweet melody of Bradley’s screams and the macabre beauty of his broken, bloodied body were for Will alone. “It wasn’t my best work, but it was my first. They never found the body.”

“That wasn’t your only kill, before Hobbs.” Hannibal sounded rather breathless and Will smiled, pleased at the effect.


“How many?”

He smiled Hannibal’s enthusiasm. Of course, he would be delighted by this news. He had taken great pains to unleash Will’s darkness and get him to embrace it. He had, in a way, succeeded.


“Why did you stop?” Hannibal sounded both curious and confused as to why he ceased the activity he’d obviously enjoyed.

“I deemed it too risky to continue once I joined the F.B.I. It was easier when I was a detective, much less scrutiny.” He shrugged, leaning forward a bit. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then, Jack came around and dragged me into all of it again.” Not that he was complaining anymore.

“You know, Hannibal, if it wasn’t for the encephalitis, I would probably have started hunting again.” He grinned, not all that pleasantly, at the doctor’s chagrin. “But the sleepwalking bouts and lost time freaked me out. I didn’t trust myself to kill again when my own mind was against me. You really should have told me about that. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

Hannibal pursed his lips, evidently displeased by that snippet of information. “Yes, I suppose it would have. In my defense, I had no idea you were already a killer. I believed the encephalitis would assist me in pushing you towards your true potential.”

That was the closest thing to an apology he’d get from the man.

Will just watched Hannibal with a small smirk playing on his lips, enjoying the look the older man was giving him. He looked more than a little besotted. And it felt good to be on the receiving end of that look.

“I still want to kill you, of course.” Hannibal looked positively delighted by that observation. “But I very much prefer you alive.”

“Oh, William…” a faint shudder rippled through the doctor’s body and Will felt his breath catch. In a flash, he was on the other man, claiming his lips with barely controlled violence; one hand clutched at the chair while the other curled loosely around Hannibal’s throat. He didn’t fight any of it, eagerly welcoming Will and spreading his legs to better accommodate him.

He felt sharp teeth tear into his bottom lip, tasted the metallic tang of his own blood, and it sent him into a frenzy. He slipped on to the floor and roughly dragged Hannibal down with him, one hand still wrapped around his neck. He straddled the older man, erections pressing against each other, and kissed him again, licking his blood from his mouth and moaning helplessly at the taste.

He made quick work of Hannibal’s pants, pushed it down to his knees with his briefs and curled a hand around the impressive length that sprang forth. Hannibal let out a strangled gasp that may have been Will’s name and he grinned, delighted. He let go of his throat to wrench at his tie and work at the buttons of his jacket. The doctor relinquished his death grip on his shoulders to help him, his fingers efficient and fast despite the quivers coursing through them. He didn’t bother fully removing the garments, impatiently parting them to get to the skin underneath.

Hannibal moaned, low and wanton, as his mouth closed around one pert nipple and sucked, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Will stroked him slowly as he kissed, licked and bit his way down his chest, eagerly lapping at the sweat beading on the skin. Too impatient for more exploration, he straightened and released his hold on Hannibal’s cock, only to wrap his mouth around the head soon after. A choked gasp echoed in the room. He set a brutal pace, driving his mouth up and down the hard flesh, the way Hannibal moaned and writhed beneath him spurring him on. A hand gripped his hair, pulling tightly, but he didn’t slow down, pinning Hannibal’s hips down so he could control the pace. The older man was making desperate, choked-off noises, muttering words that weren’t even English.

The hand in his hair tightened and then Hannibal was coming into Will’s mouth, shouting his name in a barely recognizable voice. He swallowed as best as he could, some it dribbling down his chin. He pulled off and licked the last of the come from Hannibal’s spent cock, grinning when the man jerked as his tongue ran over the over sensitive flesh.

He reared back to look at Hannibal and the sight that met him made his blood sing. The good doctor looked utterly ruined and Will loved it.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed Will, pulling him down and kissing him. This kiss was gentler than their last, more tender and explorative, the two of them drinking each other in with subdued passion. Hannibal reached down between their bodies and undid Will’s pants, taking his throbbing member in hand. He stroked him as they kissed, eagerly swallowing the empath’s whimpers and moans. Will didn’t last long, too keyed up from going down on the doctor and came into his hand with a breathless cry and violent shudder, collapsing fully on to Hannibal.

He wrapped his arms around Will and they lay like that for a while, kissing lazily now and then. It was Will who spoke first, his face buried in the crook of Hannibal’s neck, “I hope we manage to lose our clothes the next time.”

Hannibal chuckled and pressed his face into Will’s damp curls, breathing in the profiler’s rich scent.

“As do I.”



Will heaved a sigh as the last of his students filtered out and began gathering his things. It felt nice to be teaching again, but it was exhausting. Staying up half the night, preoccupied with Hannibal didn’t help either. Not that he minded. That man was addictive and he couldn’t get enough. The feeling seemed to be mutual, though Hannibal was prone to lose his precious control even more when Will was covered in someone else’s blood.

Killing alongside Hannibal was quite an interesting experience, though that damn plastic suit still made him laugh. The beauty of the Ripper and the Copycat’s kills paled in comparison to actually watching the man work. It was intoxicating and Will often opted not to participate simply so he could observe him uninterrupted.

Besides, he had his own kills to take pleasure in.

It was all driving dear Jack crazy, of course. The Ripper may have ‘died’ but Hannibal and Will were keeping him plenty busy. He often found himself wondering which of them would end up killing the man.

His senses tingled as they registered the presence of another and he turned, only to be greeted by the sight of none another than his new partner, smiling at him from the doorway. He raised an eyebrow in question, grabbed his bag and walked towards him.

“I guess it would be pointless to ask if you have any particular reason for coming here?” he asked, smiling. The urge to kiss him then and there was quite strong. Addictive, indeed.

“Of course I have a reason, Will.” Hannibal replied as they both stepped out into the deserted corridor outside his classroom. “You.”

He was about to retort with something about Hannibal being a hopeless romantic, when he heard it. A familiar tap tap tap of heels on the hard floor. He knew that rhythm all too well. Alana.

I’m not really the type to forgive and forget.

Hannibal- overly sensitive to his dear Will- had only noticed the abrupt shift in his mood, when he was slammed against the wall, a too talented mouth devouring his own with frenzied hunger. All thoughts fled his mind and he eagerly clawed at the man pinning him, moaning helplessly when Will trapped his tongue in his mouth and sucked.

A sharp gasp and choked ‘What the- ’ interrupted his bliss and he reluctantly pushed Will away, turning his head towards the source of the sound.

A stunned Alana was staring at the two them as if she was seeing them for the first time in her life. Hurt and betrayal were etched on her pretty face, pained understanding dawning on her. Abruptly she turned and all but ran away, but not before he caught the sight of her tear-filled eyes.

He turned to Will, who was staring at the spot she just vacated with smug satisfaction. Hannibal fought down a frown at his lover’s antics. He had to admit, though, that the look on Alana’s face had been worth the indignity of that public… display.

How on earth did this man strip him of his control so easily?

“I suppose that show was for Dr Bloom’s benefit?” he asked dryly, straightening his clothes and hair. Will picked up his bag from where he’d dropped it in favor of assaulting Hannibal and grinned at him. Their relationship- if so banal a term could be applied to what they had- had been their secret until now. It would be troublesome if Jack found out, but that could easily be dealt with. Neither man was really against its revelation. So he didn’t care that Alana saw, but he was interested in what prompted Will.

“Mostly.” The empath replied, those exquisite eyes locking onto Hannibal’s with burning intensity. “I wanted to make a point.”

“And what point would that be?”

Will smiled, dark and wild, and he was torn between the need to know the answer and the desire to drag Will to the nearest classroom and fuck him against the wall.

He kept that desire in check, though just barely. He wanted to hear his reason. Will reached out and gripped Hannibal’s chin, running a calloused thumb along his kiss-swollen lips.

“That you’re mine.”

They did end up in that classroom.