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Kiss Me, Hold Me, Taste Me, Fuck Me

Chapter Text

The box, creme white with a black ribbon tied around it, lies underneath some old drawings Hannibal had done at some point. Gently, a pair of hands reaches within and pulls it out from its hiding place to put on the desk in the soft sunlight streaming through a gap in the large curtains of the office.

Sea bluish-green eyes stare at it, followed by a hand lifting the lid carefully to place to one side. What lies within is a sight that surprises. Fingertips lightly brush the La Perla lace thongs, knickers, tights, and a blue ribbon.

Taking a deep breath and calming his heart rate, a conspiratorial smile slowly spreads across Will Graham's face. It was time to plan a date with.....the Chesapeake Ripper.

Chapter Text

The deep shade of crimson lipstick is slowly applied to fine, smooth, kissable lips as maroon eyes keep glancing in the mirror to make sure nothing goes wrong. 

Over the top lip, until it is completely covered, then the bottom lip. Then gently purse them together to ensure both are fully covered.

Pleased with the outcome, Hannibal Lecter rises slowly from the ornate chair close to the makeup table. He walks across the plush carpet in the room that no one else knows about and picks up the white creme box with the black ribbon on it. 


After taking out the La Perla collection, Hannibal calmly slips the lace thongs on with simple practiced ease, followed by the clip-on tights. He smooths them so they don't get wrinkled and reaches for the final item - the light sea bluish-green ribbon. 


Chapter Text

Hannibal Lecter, exhausted and sated from a euphoric night of hunting, lies under the soft silk covers of the large king size bed, nude as the day he was born, calmly sleeping when a harsh vibrating sound chooses this inconvenient moment to shatter his peaceful sleep. 

Grumbling a Lithuanian curse, he reluctantly lifts his hand from under the soft warm covers, then reaches for the offending object. The illuminated screen of his mobile phone tells him that it is 5:34 a.m. and it is Jack Crawford calling. Pressing the answer button, he brings the phone to his ear. 

"There had better be a good explanation for this call, Jack," Hannibal growls. 

"I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter. The Chesapeake Ripper has struck again, but with some really strange differences. I think you better come and see." 

 Hannibal finds himself tapping one hand on the leather steering wheel, trying to figure out what had Jack meant by "strange differences" as he remembers last night's hunt and the prey he was hunting. 

The underground bar is filled with the haze of curling, writhing smoke from cigarettes, while lily-shaped lamps glow softly in ornate sconces on the walls. 

In a far corner of the bar, perched elegantly on a bar stool and sipping a glass of amber liquid, is Hannibal Lecter, unrecognisable with the crimson lipstick and gloss to make it shine - wearing a long black dress adorned with golden ginkgo leaves. 

His hair is slicked back a certain way, and teardrop earrings like droplets of blood hang from his ears, glinting in the faint light each time he moves to look for his prey. 

He finally spots a potential victim, heading up to the barmaid to order some drinks for their mates. Picking up his cigarette in the antique gold cigarette holder, Hannibal brings it up to his mouth to place between fine lips. 

The prey turns to look at him, taking in every detail of his body. Hannibal reaches into his beaded evening bag for a lighter when the flame from a very expensive lighter - indeed, he notices - soon illuminates his face for a brief moment in the darkened corner. 

Hannibal leans close to light his cigarette, flicking his gaze upwards in a certain coy way, and sees how his sweet vulnerable prey is caught between two choices - stay and talk to this lovely cross-dresser, or go back to their mates who are waiting for their thirteenth round of drinks no doubt.

"You...don't have to go back to them. I do...get rather lonely without any company. I haven't had any for a long time, ever since my ex treated me so badly for...what I do," Hannibal purrs out, low and seductive, reaching for the prey's hand and stroking it lightly with his fingertips. The flirty gesture makes them look down, then back up at Hannibal again. 

"Do you have a name?" they ask him, making him smile softly. With a wave, Hannibal invites them to sit down on the empty stool next to him.

"You can call me...Nimue," he replies, placing his hand over theirs, already imagining the perfect tableau for them. 


Coming out of the memory, Hannibal pulls the car into a free space close to the crime scene, seeing Will's car parked up ahead. He breathes slowly in and out to calm his rage that someone had messed with his tableau, then unclips the seatbelt. 

Calmly he gets out of the car, closing the door before he walks ahead and sees Jack, close to the fluttering yellow police tape, arguing once again with Freddie Lounds. Price and Zeller meanwhile are hedging bets on who will win the argument. Hannibal stalks past them and approaches his tableau. 

The prey he had killed last night is still in the same place against the riverbank.

But not in the position he had put it in. 

Instead it has been laid out in a hollow which has been dug for it. Scattered around the prey are many flower petals - roses, deadly nightshade and sakura blossom. 

The hands of his prey have been arranged to suggest they were morbidly enticing someone to come nearer to them and embrace them. The head was turned at a certain angle to bare the pale expanse of throat and one blood red teardrop earring. 

Hannibal recognises it as one of his own. When the prey had tried to escape, they slapped him across the face, causing the earring to come flying off to land in the darkened alleyway somewhere in the shadows. 

It seems someone had found it and used it. 




Chapter Text

Pearl-Lace/Will's P.O.V: 

The underground bar is filled with wreathing smoke that curls and wisps in the environment as I slowly descend the steps leading down to it, seeing Hannibal sitting in the far corner of the bar. 

He is beautiful. Those soft kissable lips of his outlined by the cherry lipstick, crimson teardrop earrings dangling from his ears, then finally the black dress with golden ginkgo leaves on it. 

I'm wearing a lime green dress that splits at the thighs and has a fragile lace piece attached to a ornate choker that also becomes sleeves right down to the hands. Underneath is the corset I had bought after discovering Hannibal's secret in the drawer in his office. 

I want to go up to him. But instead I head to a corner booth after ordering a glass of absinthe. Carrying it, I walk silently past a bunch of young men who are about to get their possibly thirteenth round of drinks - or maybe not, as Hannibal seductively flirts with their friend. 

One of them manages a quick slap on my ass, making me throw him a slightly peeved look, then wink flirtatiously at him as I head to my seat. 

If Hannibal had seen me, he might have recognised me. But this get-up was my alter ego and something I had wanted to do since I was seventeen years old and living with my father, who had also been a drag queen in his time. 

Mother had quelled all of that by burning his drag queen outfits out in the garden. She was ashamed of what her hoity-toity friends would think if they discovered her husband's "shameful and disgusting secret," as she called it. 

I come out of that memory, seeing how Hannibal has enticed the prey to sit down next to him. They begin to chat among themselves. 

I take sip of the absinthe, jealousy and anger surging in my veins when the prey reaches out to place a hand on one of Hannibal's thighs. They then slip it upwards under the dress, the brazen action causing Hannibal to give a slight hitched gasp. 

They move their hand a little more, making Hannibal lean into them to breathlessly whisper in their ear something I don't hear. They soon rise from their seats and saunter towards the exit.

I follow them both outside into the cold air, seeing how the prey keeps on incessantly fondling Hannibal, who is still managing to keep up the act as the hand between his thighs feels through the fine lace La Perla panties I can see peeking out slightly from the dress. 

Hannibal soon grabs hold of them to haul them into a darkened alleyway where I silently follow.

I soon stop short when I see Hannibal slammed face first up against the brick wall as the prey starts to rip the dress apart. Hannibal lets loose with a warning snarl. 

I see a glint of something in Hannibal's hand, silver and metallic, followed by him stabbing into their side, dragging the curved devil's claw knife downwards to rip the flesh apart at the same time the prey looks at him in shock and surprise as crimson rivulets begin to stream down either side of their mouth. 

I want to step closer to take hold of Hannibal. Pull him back to me and kiss him heavily, smearing both our lipsticks - lime sea bluish-green mixing with cherry crimson. 

I want to be the one to hunt with him, instead of watching from afar. But for I now I must. 

This prey will also soon be my design. 

My courting gift to him. 

Along with a poem wrapped in lace and a pearl on top. 



Chapter Text

Hannibal Lecter's Memory Palace is vast, with memories and places like Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore  in Florence, Italy ingrained into it so that every time he sinks into a deep sense of calm, that is where he goes. 

It is where he is at the moment, exploring the memory of the hunt last night.

The underground bar is filled with the haze of curling, writhing smoke from cigarettes, while lily-shaped lamps glow softly in ornate scones on the walls.

In a far corner of the bar, perched elegantly on a stool and sipping a glass of amber liquid, Hannibal Lecter – unrecognisable with the crimson lipstick and gloss to make it shine – wears a long black dress with light golden ginkgo leaves on it.

His hair is slicked back a certain way, and teardrop earrings like droplets of blood hang from his ears. They glint in the faint light each time he moves to look for the Prey . He finally spots them heading up to the barmaid to order some drinks for their mates. Picking up his cigarette in an antique gold cigarette holder, Hannibal brings it to his mouth to place it between fine lips.

The Prey turns to look at him, taking in every detail of his body. Hannibal reaches into his beaded evening bag to retrieve his lighter, when the flame from a very expensive lighter - indeed, he notices - soon illuminates his face for a brief moment in the darkened corner of the bar. He leans close to light his cigarette, flicking his gaze upwards in a certain coy way, and sees how the Prey is torn between two choices - stay to talk to this strange cross-dresser, or go back to his mates, who are waiting for their thirteenth round of drinks no doubt.

“You…don’t have to go back to them. I do…get rather lonely without any company. I haven’t had any for a very long time, ever since my ex treated me so badly for...what I do,” Hannibal says, reaching for the Prey’s hand and stroking it flirtatiously with his fingertips, making them look down, then back up again at him.

“Do you have a name?” they ask him, making him smile softly. With a wave, Hannibal invites them to sit down on the empty stool next to him.

“You can…call me….Nimue,” he replies, placing his hand over theirs, already imagining the perfect tableau for them.


The Prey is oblivious, even when they stumble into an alleyway with Hannibal being slammed face first up against the brick wall. Hannibal slowly unfolds the small but deadly devil's claw knife in his free hand. He feels their slobbering mouth, stinking with alcohol, press against his ear as they tear at his dress and growl with disgust:

“I think after I fuck your faggot hole raw, bitch, I’ll just leave you in this alleyway with my cum and your blood running down the inside of your thighs. You'd enjoy that…cockslut.”

They have not sensed it. Hannibal whirls around with a snarl, stabbing into their side, causing a muffled grunt of shock and surprise to come from the Prey who pulls back with blood starting to seep out of their mouth and trickle down the sides of their lips. Then he twists it more effectively, slicing upwards to split the skin apart – like fabric being ripped apart at the seam.

“Hush now. Hush now. Don’t worry. I’ll take…care of you. I promise. And I always…keep my promises.”



Afterwards he is back in the bar, pretend-weeping as he tells the Prey’s mates what their supposed friend had tried to do to him. He hears shocked and sickened exclamations of disgust while they all insist on escorting him home so it doesn’t happen again.

Hannibal politely declines their offer and allows them to kiss his cheeks lightly, while one of them, Anthony Dimmond – who is leaving tomorrow for Florence - gives him his handkerchief to wipe away the trails of mascara which have stained his fine cheekbones.

He does allow Dimmond to help him walk up the stairs of the underground bar into the cold night air, where the first snowflakes have started to spiral down. Pulling the soft fake fur coat closer around him and the now-tattered dress, he allows the not-Will to walk him to his car.

Dimmond says nothing, only gives him a light kiss on the lips and pushes away the hand attempting to return the handkerchief, indicating Hannibal may keep it.

Hannibal does.


There is now a heated discussion in the morgue room between Price and Zeller, discussing the best way to open the body carefully and gently, as Hannibal, still deep in his Memory Palace , slowly comes out of the Memory.

 If anyone were to look at him, they would just think he was bored and would rather be somewhere else.

Not understanding the concept of what a Memory Palace was.

“Okay, we delicately take the light blue thread out, then get to the other stuff as they watch,” Zeller says, followed by Price rolling his eyes and bringing over what they need to start opening the body.

A cracking noise, followed by a gasp of “What the hell…is this?!!” coming from both Price and Zeller, make Hannibal fully aware of what is happening in reality. He heads over to see, nestled where the heart lies, a special kind of paper wrapped up in…..soft lace.

It is, however, what has been placed on top of it that sets his heart thrumming at a dizzying pace, threatening to escape his rib cage – a pearl, gleaming white, and a real one.

His mother had once told him, before she had been brutally murdered in front of his and his sister Mischa’s eyes, that pearls were a Courting Gift, and someone would one day, when he was older, give them to him – one at different times – until the very last one.

Slipping on a pair of gloves, he carefully takes the lace-wrapped paper and the pearl out of the gaping chest cavity and carries them over to place them in a metal tray as Jack, who has come into the large morgue area, walks over to have a look as well. Placing his hands on the lace, Hannibal unwraps it and gently smooths out the paper, revealing a poem that has been written for him by this secret Admirer of his.


Your heart is aflutter no doubt

Like the soft stirring of butterfly wings as it begins to stretch them out

In the soft morning light


I saw you from afar

So beautiful, hauntingly so

I ache for you


By just thinking of kissing those soft lips of yours

Wondering how they would feel against mine


My gift to you…is my Pearl


And there will be more to come

Until they become a necklace for you


A necklace to show off your inner Aphrodite within yourself

My sweet Ripper



Chapter Text

A vibrating, humming noise makes Will shift in his sleep, pleasantly dreaming of what had happened in the alleyway, with the added bonus of grabbing Hannibal to kiss him so heavily their lipstick had soon smeared together.

It vibrates again, this time more incessantly, making him flick his eyes open. Rising up slightly like a feline stretching, he reaches for his phone and sees it is Jack calling him.

Had the Ripper already replied to his Gift within the body of their Prey?

His thumb hovering in anticipation, Will answers it and brings the phone to his ear. He hears shouting, followed by Jack shouting something back, followed by Jack sighing heavily.

Will, it’s him. You need to get down here.”


“Baltimore - the old toy factory.”

“All right. I’ll be there.”

Jack cuts off, leaving Will to lie there looking up at the ceiling, smiling softly at the fact that Hannibal had managed to make sure Pearl-Lace got a gift back from the Ripper so quickly.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he gets up and slowly heads to the bathroom, passing the seven snoozing dogs – Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, Yukish – and then looks at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Pearl-Lace, hidden beneath his skin, appears in the mirror for a brief moment. Leaning close, Will places his lips against the cold glass over the reflection, feeling the coldness of it against them.

In his mind he is imagining a different pair of lips brushing against his – Hannibal’s lips.



When Will finally reaches the crime scene, he parks his car close to Jack’s large Land Rover and then just sits there, looking at the sight in front of him. He feels his heart start to thud against his rib cage.

The Gift.

One that has been given to him by Hannibal.

Unfastening his seat belt, he gets out the car and heads over to Jack, who is waiting impatiently for him. Willing his heart to stop thudding against his rib cage, he looks at the circular tent which has been erected by Hannibal. Placing a gloved hand on one of the curtains, he pulls it back slightly to look within.

Two bodies are displayed in the pose of “The Kiss” by Klimt. Will sees how Hannibal has placed the bodies in such an intimate way. He knows he will have to up the ante in his own gifts to the man he is courting.

Will knows that if they are ever discovered and Hannibal is arrested by Jack, people will say they are in Love and Freddie Lounds will have a field day writing articles about it on TattleCrime’s website.

It was Love.

The kind that only he and Hannibal understood, because the older man can see potential in him. He steps closer, seeing, hidden from sight, that the two bodies have been stitched together. He waits for the rest of the forensics team to leave when Jack gives the order.

He soon closes his eyes, allowing the golden pendulum to swing once, twice and finally a third time, dragging him into the crime scene.

You gave me a gift, Pearl-Lace.

 I return the favour by giving you one back in a way that I know you will appreciate. I choose two Prey who are suited to this Tableau of mine, and after taking what I need, place them in the pose of my intention.

I stitch them together with black thread, sewing them to become entwined like Klimt’s “The Kiss,” and stepping back to admire my work, wish you were with me.

Holding me from behind to stabilise me.

This is my Design.

This is my Gift to you


Chapter Text

The letter with Hannibal’s elegant handwriting arrives on Friday, just as Will is returning from taking the dogs out for a long-needed walk. Picking the envelope up from the porch, he allows them to go in ahead of him.

He looks at his name carefully written on the thick creme-colored envelope in fancy Elizabethan script, and his heart begins to flutter in his chest. Heading over to the old rocking chair on the porch, he sits down to slit it open and begins to read, hearing Hannibal's smoky voice in his mind as he does so.

Dear Will,

I would appreciate your company at a dinner party at my home this Saturday night at 7:00. You need only bring yourself and no one else. Although I anticipate that you and I will desire some time alone together later in the evening, I have also invited Jack Crawford and his wife to the table, along with Alana Bloom, Margot Verger, and an old colleague of mine, Dr. Donald Sutcliffe, who informs me he is bringing a guest with him.


Will smiles softly at Hannibal's signature, written with a flourish of the pen in his inimitable style. Will sits back in the rocking chair, still smiling, heart thudding quietly, his gaze unfocused and his thoughts drifting. He is soon brought back down to earth, however, as Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, and Yukish insist it's past their dinner time.

Each dog receives a generous bowlful of Will's specially prepared homemade dog food, along with many pets and skritches. While the dogs enjoy their dinner, Will goes to the living room and places the letter in the bottom of his chest of drawers, underneath a black box with a crimson ribbon wrapped around it.





Saturday night arrives with a slow gentle ease, like the opening strains of a waltz, as Will eases into the driveway of Hannibal’s house. Standing on the stone front steps, looking impossibly, effortlessly handsome, is the man himself, waiting for his guests.

Will is glad he is the first to arrive and not the last. It would be rude of him to be last and late. He pulls up neatly beside Hannibal’s car, then nervously smooths down his black leather trousers and wonders what the older man would think if he knew Will was Pearl-Lace.

That underneath his clothes he is wearing La Perla "Crimson Night" lace panties and tights with suspenders on them. Around his throat he is wearing a maroon ribbon choker; his legs are adorned in high-heeled lace-up boots that his father had sent him for his thirty-first birthday.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Will gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. He smiles as he nears the steps and gets a better look at Hannibal, who he sees is wearing diamond studded earrings. Will wonders if underneath the man is wearing one of his many lingerie collections. He ascends the stone steps, his eyes locked on Hannibal's and his smile growing wider.

“Will, you look….utterly divine,” Hannibal breathes, stepping close to him on high-heeled shoes. He leans close to Will, inhaling deeply the delicate perfume Will had chosen to wear.

Will hears in the process a soft breathless moan – so faint it sounds like a gentle breeze ruffling the tops of the trees.

“I aim to make sure….I provide nourishment for those who like to look at me, Hannibal,” Will says, flirting seductively while wishing that Hannibal would just grab him around the hips to pull him close and smash his lips into his.

Followed by dragging him inside and upstairs where, after cancelling the dinner party, they could thoroughly ravage each other in pleasure and ecstasy on dark blue silken sheets decorated with gold ginkgo leaves.

“Is that……Peach Blossom Sin….you're wearing, Will?” the older man asks him, stepping closer. Their chests are touching now. Tilting his head back slightly to expose his throat, Will sees how Hannibal licks his lips to wet them at the sight of pale, unmarked skin.

“Why? Do you like it or would you prefer what I get for Christmas?” he teases, suddenly feeling Hannibal grab hold of him to pull him into the house, closing the double doors behind them both. He lifts Will up in his strong arms and slams him against the wall, next to (in Will's mind, but he is barely thinking at the moment) a hideous, odious painting. The impact of Will hitting the wall sends the questionable work of art crashing to the floor, the glass of the frame emitting a tinkling smash as it breaks into a million pieces.

Will's hands are seized around his wrists and lifted up to be pinned above his head, where he feels a macabre Gothic candle holder – empty – attached to the wall. A wicked idea begins to form in his mind. Looking up at Hannibal, he sees the man is thinking the same thing. Will hears the clink of a belt being unbuckled, his rapt gaze never leaving Hannibal's, followed by the belt's smooth leather being wrapped around his wrists and the rest wound around the Gothic candle holder. The older man lowers his head, maroon eyes dark with passion and want. He wraps his arms around Will, presses him close, and kisses him heavily.

Will kisses back, flicking his tongue over soft, kissable lips. Hannibal accepts the admittance asked for, opening his mouth to allow Will to probe it deeply with his tongue – feeling the enticingly sharp canine teeth, which could easily rip out his own throat or someone else’s, for that matter. Sparks of danger and desire shoot through Will's blood as they begin to grind their hips into each other, tongues still entwined and breaths growing heavy and hot. One of Hannibal's large hands slowly slides down to caress Will's beautiful ass, supple and smooth beneath black leather.

Saliva is exchanged and trickles down the side of their mouths. Through the fog of his desire, Hannibal realizes that exciting as it is to have Will's hands bound, he would much prefer to have them on his body. Without breaking the kiss, the arm around Will's back reaches up blindly and releases his wrists from their bond. The passionate kisses continue as hands fumble clumsily to undo trousers. Breathless sighs and moans fill the air, while Will strokes Hannibal through the soft lace panties he wears, feeling the outline of how large, throbbing and pulsating the older man is.

The….things you do to me, Will. The….way you make me feel. It’s like wicked tongues of flame are caressing me from within and making me so….hot and aching for you,” Hannibal pants out, between kisses, rocking his hips into Will’s hand that cups him.

Hannibal reluctantly breaks the kiss and tilts his head back to breathe. He shudders heavily with a soft breathless moan at the debauched look he sees on the younger man's flushed face. He slips downwards to place Will’s thighs in the crooks of his arms. Kneeling almost reverently, he pulls the leather trousers further apart and down a bit more with his teeth. His eyes widen and his brain scrambles as he sees the lace panties Will is wearing.

So this is Will's secret as well.

He leans close, caressing the lace-covered bulge with his lips and upwards to where pearls of pre-cum are beginning to seep from the tip of Will's cock, soaking through the lace fabric. Hannibal extends his hungry tongue and licks upwards, causing a hitched gasp to come from Will and soon the loud ecstatic cry of his name - “Hannibal!!!”

The taste of Will is like the sweetest ambrosia. Placing his teeth against the lace, he rips it to fully expose Will's beautiful cock. He then bends his sleek head between Will’s thighs, tasting him intimately. The hallway near the dining room is soon filled with soft moans and breathless gasps that become music to his ears.

A symphony of pleasure and ecstasy.




Will can still feel the chemical endorphins of sexual arousal running through him, even when he now sits to Hannibal’s right, across from Alana and Margot. Next to him are Jack with Bella, and across from them sit Dr. Sutcliffe and a young man called Matthew Brown.

Hannibal is busy in the kitchen, applying the final touches to the dinner he has made. Picking up the glass of fine wine, Will takes a sip to calm himself. Hannibal soon appears, bearing the plates of food for the first course.

“That smells amazing, Hannibal. What is it?” he hears Jack ask. Hannibal replies, “For the first course, oysters in gelée, a dish I was taught by a French cook in Paris when I was very young. Though some would consider the oyster to be... an aphrodisiac. Young men in ancient Greece believed it…spurred their sexual desire.”

 Laughter fills the dining room, while Will flicks his gaze up to Hannibal when the man places his plate down in front of him. They are so close he could lean up, right in front of everyone, to pull the older man into a heart-stopping kiss.

Hannibal moves away, breaking that spell, to sit down himself, after unbuttoning the bottom button of his waistcoat. Knowing it is rude of him to start eating without the older man’s permission, Will takes one of the oyster shells, staring at the viscous fluid of the meat topped with tiny cubes of aspic. He brings it to his lips, tips it down to swallow the meat.

He can feel maroon eyes watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Lowering the oyster shell back down on the plate, he sees how Hannibal is smiling as he brings his own up, doing the same.

Soon chatter and laughter fills the dining room, while the oysters are either left or devoured by the gracious guests. More wine is poured.

“So, Mrs. Crawford, are you an Annabelle or an Isabella?” Will hears Hannibal ask Jack’s wife – who he can see is not eating at all – and she smiles softly at him.

“A Phyllis. Only Jack calls me Bella,” she replies, making Jack tell the story of how he met her in Florence, Italy, when she was working for NATO. The Italian men would call out “Bella, bella!” (beautiful!) as she walked down the city streets, so he wanted her to be his.

They married a few days later.

Their wedding day had been a beautiful day for them both.

As he is taking another sip of wine, Will suddenly notices, out of the corner of his eye, that Matthew Brown seems to be watching Hannibal with a kind of curiosity. Will leans close to Hannibal, who turns his face slightly to acknowledge him.

Would you like some help to bring the main course through?” Will whispers, making sure his lips are close enough to Hannibal’s ear to make him give a subtle shiver at the feel of his hot breath on his cheek.

The older man nods, getting up to take away the empty dishes and clear the table for the main course. Heading through to the kitchen, he can feel Will’s burning gaze on his back. Jealous, no doubt, at what he had seen.





The large kitchen of Hannibal’s home is quiet and peaceful, with a marble kitchen island in the center to accommodate any produce brought in from the herb and vegetable plot outside.

Going up to the double doors that lead out onto the porch and into the back garden, Will can see the shadow of a tall sakura blossom tree near a pond, with small Japanese spirit shrines close to it. Large clever hands wrap around his waist, pulling him back flush against a warm chest.

“The meat will spoil,” Will says quietly, feeling Hannibal nuzzle his nose softly against his cheek and up to his ear to whisper, “There is... a better dish in front of me I would rather savour.” He is turned around to face the older man, who begins to slowly walk backwards, pulling him along until they reach the island.

“Tell me or show me,” Will hears himself saying to Hannibal.

With a quirk of his eyebrow and a half-smile on his lips, Hannibal gracefully turns his back to him and calmly unbuckles his belt. He slips his suit trousers down and off to reveal the fine lace thong and tights, then bends over the polished marble surface to present himself.

Will almost forgets how to breathe at the sight. He slowly walks over and places the palm of his trembling hand on the dip of Hannibal’s spine, feeling the stays of a fine corset. Hauling the older man up – after slipping his own trousers down and off – he unbuttons the fine black waistcoat and the crimson shirt.

Hannibal helps him to slip them off, allowing them to fall to the kitchen floor with a muffled thump. A hand comes up to take hold of the back of Will's head to sift through his curls, and he unbuttons his own shirt, chucking it to the armchair in the far corner of the kitchen. They fall once again into passionate kisses, savouring the taste of the oysters and rich wine.

Soft wanton moans and heavy breathless panting are coming from them both, while Will remembers that just next door the rest of the dinner party are waiting for the main course – lambs' hearts in hot sauce, with root vegetables and sweet baby potatoes – and could possibly hear them.

Hannibal, though, doesn’t seem to care about being overheard and releases Will’s lips, a strand of saliva still connecting their lips together. Will gently turns him to face the island, and Hannibal assumes his previous position, heart pounding in anticipation. A warm hand slipping into the confines of his lace thong from behind makes Hannibal tilt his head back and gasp softly.

Fingers already coated in lube (Will had a small bottle tucked away in his inside blazer pocket) rub against his puckered entrance, spreading the lube and teasing gently. The fingers soon press inwards and Will begins to scissor and stretch, as evidence of his arousal, covered by his fine lace panties, presses against Hannibal's thigh.

Hannibal presses back against the hand, rocking his magnificent ass slowly back and forth, feeling the fingers reach deep inside to rub the wee gland within that makes him gasp and clench around them. Finally they slip out, making him feel bereft of the loss.

After removing his lace undies, Will pulls Hannibal up again and leads him to the narrow end of the island, patting the marble surface with an insouciant smile to indicate Hannibal should hop up and lie down. Hannibal, who would normally be absolutely scandalized by the mere thought of having sex in the kitchen, much less on a food-preparing surface, obeys without hesitation. His breathing stutters as Will lifts his legs onto his shoulders, still covered in the elegant tights. They gaze at one another for what seems like an eternity, the anticipation of this moment holding them in its thrall. Hannibal's eyes drift closed as Will caresses his thighs. He loses track of time for a moment, only to bite his bottom lip as a long, breathless moan threatens to escape when he feels Will push aside the lace that lies over his slicked and stretched entrance, and slowly begin to slide the head of his cock inside. Will continues to sink into him until he is fully sheathed within.


Will shudders heavily when he feels himself now within Hannibal’s tight, warm insides. Willing his heart to stop thudding against his rib cage, he slowly and gently begins to undulate his hips back and forth. Hannibal grasps the sides of the island, wanting to keep gazing into the wicked depths of Will's ocean blue eyes, but pleasure overtakes him. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes in bliss, gasping and grunting softly with each thrust.

Will pulls back slightly to look down each time he slides his cock in and out of the warm, clenching, tight and hot rim of Hannibal’s ass, mesmerized by the sight. He is pulled down into a breathless kiss by Hannibal, who is flushed, sweating and looking utterly debauched.

 They are well on the way to losing themselves in fiery passion and ecstasy.



Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Sunlight filters through a gap in the ink blue curtains of my bedroom to shine a shaft of light down onto the large king size bed as I softly flutter my eyes open basking for moment in the warmth then sleepily smile at the sleeping form of Will Graham under the covers.

He looks peaceful and calm. No nightmare at the moment to disturb of his sleep and hear him give small “Hmm” followed by reaching out for me as I allow him to pull me close to him then sea bluish-green eyes open to look up at me making me bend my head down to kiss him lightly.

Our lips move against each-other’s gently and he changes position each-time to deepen it then pulls back to bury his face into the crook of my neck, wrapping his arms around to hold me close to him.

“It feels good being in your ar…Oh god!!!? The dogs!!!?” He begins to say, only realise about his dogs and scrambles out of bed when I pull him back to stop him from going any further.

“Will, calm yourself. I brought them here while you were asleep and placed them in the large outdoor kennel I have outside.” I say, leading him over to the window to show the outdoor kennel outside in the garden.

 Seeing him smile at the sight of all of seven dogs napping in the sun and enjoying themselves.

“You…I don’t what to say.” Will says, surprised and amazed I had done such a task for him then turns in my arms to face me, while I lift him up to place up against on the window-seat and licking my lips to wet them stroke his cheek lightly with my thumb.

“I want to make love to you. May I?” I ask him, followed by bringing the lube up in front of my face and uncapping it pours some of the stuff onto the palm of his hand.

He slips it downwards causing me to arch slightly at the touch of his hand on me, followed by resisting the urge to thrust my hips into it as he strokes me from where my pre-cum is already forming small white pearls at the tip to down below, cupping me in a certain way, I have to place both hands on the glass window to stabilise myself.

His other hand he had coated his busy between his own thighs, prepping himself for me and Will moans heavily baring his neck in the process then breathes out “Enter me, Hannibal.” and moving his hands away, enter him with a single thrust of my hips.

Hearing him give breathless hitched moan and wrapping his legs soon around my waist for support then begin to jolt him up and down, causing him to rock his hips in sync with mine as watch every expression he makes.

The way he gasps breathlessly, lips parted in soft moans and gasps of pleasure.

The arch of his spine off the soft fabric of the window–seat and hunching my muscles more speed up slightly as I begin to feel the pressure building within me coming to a climax.

It hits so suddenly, I find myself arching my back heavily distantly feeling Will tighten his thighs around my waist as I cry out heavily with whiteness coating my vision.

Blocking out every external sound around me, except for the beating of my heart within in my ribcage and every fibre of my being tensing as slowly release into him – filling his warm, tight clenching insides with it.

Euphoric is the only word I can think of during this time.




Breakfast at the dinner table is simple meal of scrambled fluffy eggs, sausages and sliced baby tomatoes that we share together on one plate to save the hassle of washing two dishes.

“It’s a beautiful day.” Will comments, looking out the dining room double door windows then grinning turns his face back to me. “Come and walk the dogs with me, Hannibal, please?” making me look at the seven dogs lounging on the porch waiting for a walk.

“Anything for you, Myilamis.” I say, smiling back at him and getting up find myself swaying my hips for him hearing his gentle laughter fill the dining room as he comments “Your such…a diva, Hannibal.”

Yes. But, I’m your Diva and no-one else’s.  




Walking the seven dogs - Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, and Yukish – with Will’s arm in mine as we walk down the forest path together feeling him clasp his hand in mine feels peaceful and calm.

“What are you thinking about?” Will asks me, when with my free hand throw a stick for the dogs to go after hearing their excited yips and barking.

“Nothing that concerns you, dear Will. Just the happiness you’re here with me.” I reply, turning to face him and leaning forwards rest my forehead against his wanting to say the words.

But they don’t come out. Making me capture his lips with mine to distract him from asking me about the silence and try not to think that is was feeling like I was slowly being led into a snare.

Who was luring me though?

Will or Jack?

Or someone else hidden in the shadows?


Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Monday is the busy day of my appointments for my patients as I calmly allow poor neurotic and bumbling Franklyn to leave through the back door of my office trying not burst into tears because of his state.

I tolerated him for a reason, because he saw me as someone he could talk to about his friend Tobias Budge – one of the Violinists of Baltimore‘s Orchestral Symphony Movement - who been acting strangely in certain ways.

“Dr. Lecter…umm….Thank you.” Franklyn says, just before I go to close the door wringing his chubby hands in the handkerchief as though he wants to say something else to me.

“Yes, Franklyn? What is it?” I ask him, making him reach into his suit pocket to hand me flyer for the Opera which I see is showing “Carmen” for tonight only and gives small smile.

“I saw it and…thought maybe you would be interested. It’s on tonight only, I’m afraid and leaves for…Okinawa, Japan tomorrow. I’ve already got tickets thanks to Tobias.” He says, sighing heavily at his friend’s name when a knock on my front office door makes me turn my head to look up at the grandfather clock seeing the time.

“Same time as usual, Franklyn.” I tell him, making him nod in reply and head off leaving me alone with the flyer in my hand then closing the door silently behind me head over to my desk as another knock more insistent this time at the front door.

Smoothing down my suit and waistcoat, I almost wish it were Will waiting in the interview room for me and stroke my neck lightly where hidden under the shirt is the first pearl from Pearl-Lace on the lace sea bluish-green ribbon that I had made into a choker feeling the smoothness of it through the fabric.

No-one had noticed when I had been close to my own kill in the Behavioural and Science Unit that I had come back to take the evidence – the Pearl and the poem wrapped in fine lace – then heading over to the door, calmly open it.

The waiting room is empty, devoid of anyone and go to step out of my office. Stopping though when I notice in front of me is a large lingerie box with a crimson ribbon wrapped around it then bending down pick it up, carry it back into my office after closing the door behind me.

I place it on my desk, unwrapping the ribbon to place it to one side and lifting the lid off reveal the contents to be a long sea-bluish green dress that seems to shimmer in the dimmed office lights when I bring it out to fully look at it. Seeing what had made it shimmer were the delicate silver ferns embossed on it then heading into the bathroom, with the box slip my suit off.

Until I’m finally standing nude and the lace choker the only thing around my neck. Under the paper wrapping is another surprise - crème white stockings with light blue bows around the edges and corset the same colour to go under the dress that laces from the front then see resting on top of it, two Pearls this time and a poem wrapped in lace.



At night…..I imagine your touch on my bare skin

Fingertips delicately caressing like a butterfly feeding flowers to look for nectar

Your lips…..outlined crimson and shining like….blood in the moonlight

Predator that you are

Your body…..strong and sleek of that of a panther’s

You neither hide nor run

I’ve…watched you….

Thought of only….touching you

Holding….you against me

While we writhe entwined…..on soft silk sheets or among a bed of rose petals

Do….you not feel the same for me?

Wouldn’t… want to hold me?

Taste me?

Fill… to a point where everything begins….to blur at the edges

I….ache for you.

Do….you not ache for me?






Who is that?”


“That can’t be….Dr. Hannibal Lecter can it?!!”

“No, I think that is Mrs Komodo’s friend Miss Nimue.”


Whispers like snakes slithering over each-other to keep warm reach my ears from other patrons attending tonight’s show, while I calmly descend the curved white marble stairs to the main large ballroom of Baltimore’s Opera House.

Here everyone is waiting before the Opera starts. I’m wearing the sea bluish-green dress that has silver ferns on it and see Mrs Komodo is happy and delighted to see me “In my element” as she comes over to me, taking my hand to pull me into the circle of friends she has acquired.

I’m introduced to them – Mr. Anthony Dimmond, who is glad to see Nimue is doing better and I already know, a Mr. Andrew Caldwell – an independent Medical Examiner - and finally a newcomer I have not seen before.

“Now…this is Erisa Ereksigal.” Mrs Komodo says, introducing the person next to her and they turn to fully face me revealing….Will or was it Will….as they notice me looking them at strangely.

“You look pale, Nimue. Is everything alright?” I’m asked, making me turn my gaze away from not-Will or Will because I still couldn’t tell and look at her going to answer when a hand slips around my waist causing me to stiffen slightly at the action as it soon settles on my hip.

“I’m sure Nimue is fine, Mrs Komedo.” A gentle voice says in reply to it, making me turn to look and somehow I know in front of me is…my secret admirer Pearl-Lace.

They are wearing a soft shimmering brown suit jacket and trousers with purple and gold flowers stitched onto the fabric, while underneath the suit jacket can see they are wearing a white blouse that has lace ruffles on the collar.

“Yes, I’m fine” I manage to get out. “Will you excuse us?” making her nod in reply to this and heading away with Pearl-Lace walk up the flight of stairs to the second landing.

Sensing eyes watching us from down below as we do so.




The high box.

It is quiet and peaceful up here, while I step up to the edge placing my hands on the fabric balustrade of it looking down at large circular stage of the Opera House and the seats that will soon be filled by everyone waiting out in the main ballroom of this large space.

“Do…you like my gift to you?” Pearl-Lace whispers into my ear, when they came up behind me to place their hands on my hips and slip one of them underneath the dress to cup me through the white lace thongs attached to the silk crème white stockings.

You mean…Gifts….haaa!!….then Yes, I love them.” I whisper back in reply, feeling their fingertips brush the tip of my lace covered cock and rub where pearls of pre-cum are starting to form.

Their other hand slips down my spine, hitching the back of the dress up to reveal their Gift to me and I’m soon pushed down onto the balustrade by them then they lean over me, their breath hot against my cheek.

Arching myself to Pearl-Lace, I look over my shoulder at them and they cover me once more as their hand slips downwards feeling the seam of the lace thongs then lifting it tantalising up slides the hand within confines of them.

I arch fully, spreading my legs more widely apart and keeping my palms spread on the fabric balustrade moan softly – hearing slight echoing around the large area of where the Opera would soon be showing – then I’m whirled around to face them, while they haul me up onto the balustrade which thankfully has a metal railing to stop people falling over the edge.

Take hold of the railing with both your hands.” a command which I find myself submissively obeying and bringing my hands up grip the railing, while they take one the curtain ties from one of the high box curtains’ to soon tie my hands by wrists to it.

Crossing them over, until satisfied I can’t get free and watch them taking the fine jacket off to place over one of the viewing chairs. They come over to me, placing their hands on my thighs to spread wide apart and get between them then kiss me heavily, reaching between both our bodies.

A ripping of fabric, followed by harsh shove of hips forwards into mine causing my head to tilt backwards a pleasured moan escaping me before I can stop myself – that echoes around the empty space – then Pearl-Lace leaves me no time to adjust, jolting my body and up down with each thrust they give within me.

I writhe uncontrollably, every thrust sending ecstasy running up my spine of them sliding in and out of me each-time then fully get over me, bringing of my crème stocking clad thighs onto the shoulder filling me so deeply it overwhelms me.

Their… deep.....My body….It feels like I’m burning up within!!!

Trembling underneath them, I suddenly hear voices making me turn my face to see down below near the double entrance doors Mrs Komodo coming in with Andrew Caldwell, Anthony Dimmond – who had told me had missed his flight to Florence, Italy – and finally Erisa Ereksigal.

Then a particularly hard intense thrust causes me to clench heavily around Pearl-Lace’s waist and give a keening wail – which echoes all around - of pleasure as my back arches heavily of the fabric balustrade.

Succumbing to the pressure that been building up within. Distantly hearing from below shocked gasps coming from the group and yet, I only pay attention to Pearl-Lace who looks deeply into my eyes then pulls me into deep, breathless kiss in front of them all as I suddenly realise who they really are in front of me.




Chapter Text

P earl-Lace/Will's P.O.V: 

Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane is one of those places, where I do not want to be right at this very moment and rather be at home, relaxing with my seven dogs or checking to see how Hannibal is doing at his office.

Though my Appointment with him wasn’t until late in the evening and so, I would have to make do with Dr. Frederick Chilton boring my ear again over my Empathy Ability. He was obsessed in having an interview with me to discuss it and pulling the car up into an empty parking space reach into the glove compartment for some aspirin.

Persistent headaches and hallucinations for one thing, I would have to mention to Hannibal at some point and wonder if could recommend a good doctor for Neurology scans.

Maybe his friend and old colleague Dr. Sutcliffe could help me out?

Swallowing the aspirin down with some bottled water, feel the headache go down to a residual ache. I just hoped it wouldn’t be aggravated again by Jack or Chilton for that matter then get out the car.




What has happened here is very tragic. Especially with the death of one of the Nursing staff.”

Dr. Chilton, is it possible to still see the scene of the Crime. We need it as fresh as possible.”

“Ahh, yes. Come this way, gentlemen.”

Stepping into the Nurse’s room, I see why Chilton had said he already had the Ripper in his clutches because in front of me is a scene that looks just like that of a Crime Scene called the “Wound Man” with the nurse impaled on the metal I.V. stand back arched in certain way.

Both our eyes squished right down into her sockets and stepping closer know immediately Hannibal didn’t do this because it was sloppy and too trained looking to be one of his Tableau then slipping my glasses off, place them in my shirt pocket.

I close my eyes. The golden pendulum swinging once, twice and finally a third time dragging me deep into the depths of the reconstruction.

Their voices around me, while they wheel me fast to the Infirmary because they think I had some kind of seizure or stroke. Fools.

They wheel me into the room, where the Nurse starts to set up equipment as I calmly slip the skeleton from wee nick in my skin and begin to unlock the handcuff around my wrist.

She is too busy, doing her endless job of sorting everything and it is only when she turns to see me standing there. She goes to scream or shout for help, but I silence by punching her in the larynx effectively shutting her vocal cords up.

She tries to escape, but I grab hold of her to slam her against the shelving and onto the floor where she lands on her back. I straddle her, reaching up to her face and shushing her, place my thumbs on her eyelids pressing down until hearing a satisfied squelch.

Looking for something, I look at the I.V stand and pull it out then go around until I feel her hands touch my shoe when she tried to crawl away but didn’t get far then lifting it up above her, bring it down….hard.


Harshly, I come out of the reconstruction only to suddenly see I’m not in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I’m in Hannibal’s office waiting room, where moving backwards sit down in the chair to drag my hands down my face.

I had lost time.

I had somehow lost time in the reconstruction or after it.

“Will, this is unexpected surprise. Your appointment isn’t until late this evening. Though today as been…rather quiet without you.”

Yeah, no shit…Darling…to me arriving here unannounced.

I hear Pearl-Lace saying in my head, while Hannibal comes to stand in front of me. Just in time to catch me, when I fall forwards into his arms and flicking my gaze up to him allow him to help me up out the seat then into his warm, homely almost office.





A glass of wine poured into two glasses.

The light from the lit fire in the hearth, reflecting in the polished surface, followed by him turning to look at me sitting in one of the leather backed black armchairs with the small glass table next to it.

I have taken off my jacket, placing it over the back of the armchair, while have unbuttoned the top three buttons of my salmon shirt. I’m busy looking through his sketch-book of the many different artworks he has done.

“Anything you find interesting, Will?” He asks me, when I flick to page of a sketching of…me as my alter-ego Pearl-Lace and himself writhing on the Balcony Opera box balustrade that happened just a few nights ago.

Thighs clenching tightly around my waist.

Hearing Hannibal giving a keening wail of pleasure, followed by being allowed to be pulled into a breathless kiss by me.

“The Ripper’s admirer?” I ask, accepting the glass of poured wine from him and hand him back his sketch-pad continuing to speak as he sits down across from me. “Zeller and Price are joking that they’re both plotting Crème de la Passion with each-other, because of the Gifts being given.”

“Is that what they think?” Hannibal asks me, not answering my question and brings one leg up to cross over the other.

 Placing my glass down on the small glass table, I get up out the armchair and head over to go around his chair then stepping behind him, place my hands on his shoulders gently and calmly. I don’t want to spook him and end up with my arm twisted behind my back or worse my neck snapped.

“There’s something bothering you isn’t there, Hannibal?” I ask him, only for him to slip away from me as he gets up from the armchair and heads over to his desk then picks up his scalpel to sharpen his pencil.

There was only one reason why he was acting like this. He knew….deep down inside I was….Pearl-Lace and the one been giving him the Gifts.

In his mind I had betrayed him and excuse myself by asking if I can use the bathroom.

He gives a nod in reply and nothing more. 




Inside the dimly lit bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror and start to rip my clothes to shreds until I’m finally standing in the laced up corset – black with red sweet Williams flowers stitched onto it; the lace diamond shaped nylon tights which clip to it and the lace pants with black ribbons trailing down from them.

Opening the bathroom cupboard, I get out the makeup kit to place on the bathroom counter surface and look once last time at myself then begin to apply the makeup that will transform me….into Pearl-Lace.

There will now be…from now-on only…be….Pearl-Lace for the Ripper.

No Will Graham.

Only Pearl-Lace and nothing else.

Madness shared by two.

Pearl-Lace and Ripper.




Hannibal is not in the office, when I step out of the office bathroom in the sleeping kimono that has koi fish swimming around and around it as Ginko leaves seem to float on the surface of what could be consider water then look over to his desk.

The pencil is sharpened. The scalpel missing though and telling me, he has taken it with him and the glasses of wine have been cleared away then stepping fully out of the bathroom, close the door quietly shut the door behind me.

A creak above my head on the mezzanine library balcony landing makes me still in walking any further and listening quietly for more. None happen, meaning the person above was waiting for me to make a move reminding of the game Mahjong – where one player would play the white side and the other the black – then step forwards to look up.

There is no-one there or if there was they were hiding from my sight. It is something though that makes me head to the ladder and going up step onto the landing.

I walk around to where feeling a draft coming from somewhere makes me frown and placing hand on a book that is out of place on the bookshelf watch the whole of it soon disappear to reveal a long black tunnel with stone steps leading down into the darkness.



The small flashlight is alright in the long tunnel, which seems to extend a long way to somewhere seeing it is probably one built in medieval times due to the stonework around me. I keep on walking, the only sound being the clicking of the high-heels I wear echoing around me and finally see a faint pinprick of light appearing.

I switch the flash-light off, placing it in the corset for safekeeping and reaching the light see it is coming way above me, while iron rungs are the only way up. Some are corroded and other’s looking extremely fragile then taking a deep breath in and out to calm my nerves start to climb them slowly – glad I had decided to put my normal trousers and shirt back on along with my jacket to keep warm.

The kimono, I had left behind over his chair in his office in case he came back and reaching the top push the hatch open to reveal a small arched storage space then clamber out to look fully at the sight in front of me.

I knew Hannibal was the Ripper.

Everyone though, only knew the serial killer was masochistic always killed the rude in sounders of three and seeing it shone in harsh lit reality causes me to suddenly….unexpectly heave when I realise I never knew what he was doing with the victims.

Bile splashes onto the floor, along with trembling softly at the fact he been forcing me to eat….and shake my head to side to side trying not to think about it then wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, step reaching for sharp hunting knife hanging up on the rack.





Alana Bloom’s laughter and Hannibal speaking from the dining room, stills me when I come out of the underground hidden cellar out into the kitchen then taking a bottle of wine from the rack, head over to the glass holder rack and take two down.

I pour myself a drink and pour another for him, hearing suddenly Jack’s voice making me want to strangle Hannibal for doing this to me.

Bringing all the players onto the Mahjong board. So making my decision, I slip off my normal clothes and step out of them placing them on the armchair near the clock on the wall then getting out the flash-light, place it back in his kitchen drawer seeing a shade of lipstick is in it.

Unused. It is called “Black Ochre Sin” and unwrapping it, go over to the mirror to apply it seeing how it shines black in the moonlight coming from the kitchen windows behind me then sorting it by pursing my lips together, pick up the two filled wine glasses.

I head to the dining room, hearing Jack still talking and another voice pipe in to the conservation – Abigail – then stepping around the corner hear various shocked and surprised gasps come from Jack, Alana and Abigail.

Hannibal is the only one who is silent at the head of the table, followed by getting up immediately and coming over to me then unexpectly slaps me across the face splitting my lower lip in the process followed by Alana admonishing “Hannibal!!!?” as I calmly turn my face to look at him.

“Oh, darling…is that really way to treat me. I was only bringing you some more wine, though it seems you….don ‘t want any of it.” I say, causing him to pull me flush against his chest with such force I drop the wine glass allowing them to shatter on the hardwood floor.

Both of us stare deeply into each-other’s eyes – sea bluish-green into maroon – and the tension rises to near boiling point where it is Jack who places a hand on Hannibal’s arm saying, “Hannibal that is enough. Can’t you see…your frightening, Abigail?” effectively stopping it.

I turn my gaze at the sametime he does, seeing she is pale and wide eyed at the sight in front of her and Hannibal, composes himself by slipping away from me as Alana follows him dropping her napkin onto the table with muffled thump.

I feel her brush past me, eyes looking over what she considers is no doubt in her mind Hannibal’s Prostitute or Slut or Whore and quietly follow Alana down to the kitchen, leaving Jack to comfort Abigail who asks him if he can take her upstairs as she feels she needs to lay down for wee while.

I stop just short of the doorframe, peeking in to see Alana glaring at Hannibal who has poured himself a glass of brandy and swallows it down in one gulp.

“I cannot believe this, Hannibal. You….invite myself, Jack and Abigail to dinner and suddenly out of the blue that turns up at the doorstep.” She hisses, pointing to me or “that” as she is calling me and detect in her voice a hint of what can only be jealousy, anger and shock.

“Alana, what I do in my private time….is actually none of your fucking goddam business.” Hannibal says, surprising me when I actually hear him swearing as I thought more of a person who hated it.

Who knew Hannibal…had such a filthy mouth on himself.

“You!!? So, was sleeping with me…..just a one-night stand then?” She asks, causing me to straighten at the words she is saying and go to step out fully into the kitchen when Hannibal flicking his gaze up to me stops me in my tracks.

He steps closer to Alana, hemming her in and it is only when I intervene he manages to avoid getting his throat sliced by knife. One I had seen she grab quickly from the knife block on the kitchen counter and stumbling backwards feel blood plip down from my cheek onto the polished floor.

“There….see how you care for your…Slut now, Hannibal.” She says, when suddenly my legs give out from underneath me and he grabs hold of me before I can hit the floor.

His gaze looking down to where blood is starting to leak slightly through a gap in the corset I’m wearing and realise suddenly with harsh clarity who been leading him into a snare all this time.

“It wasn’t you who took the scalpel?” I ask Hannibal, making him shake his head and flick my gaze over to Alana seeing the glint in her right hand is Hannibal’s scalpel gleaming with my blood.

Anger surges through my veins, forcing me to get up and stand up straight feeling my breathing coming in laboured gasps then grabbing the Hunting knife I had left in the knife block go to lunge forwards when a shot rings out sending me stumbling backwards into the armchair with a muffled thump as it feels like all the remaining breath in all my lungs has been knocked out of me.

In the far corner of my eye, I can see Hannibal has been sprayed with my blood from the impact of the bullet hitting my shoulder and is looking at me dazed. It is though he is experiencing some kind of traumatic memory where he once been covered in blood before like he is now.

The Hunting knife, slips out of my grip to land on the hardwood floor with muffled thunk followed by Alana rushing forwards as he suddenly collapses like when a puppet has it’s strings all cut then weakly I manage to get up, running past Jack by knocking him out the way and out of the dining room to upstairs when I hear chasing after me.




The upstairs sitting room in Hannibal’s house it quiet, the only sounds a ticking of Grandfather clock and yet, something is telling me I’m not alone in the room where moonlight is shining through the large window.

Blood is still plipping from the wound made by Alana onto the carpet to stain it with small crimson petals and trembling heavily hear a noise behind me. I fully turn around to see it is….. Abigail…not Jack standing in front of me and her gentle, sweet eyes red-rimmed like she has been crying heavily.

“Abig….” I begin to say reaching up with my hand, only for her to shove me heavily with such force I cannot even react when the glass of the window shatters all around me.

Time slows down into slow motion, seeing her watching from the shattered window frame at what is happening and finally I hit the pavement with sickening, bone-crunching thud followed by blackness succumbing my vision.

I remember nothing from thereafter.

I remember nothing at all.



Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

“Thank you for coming in, Hannibal.”

“Any…news on….Will’s condition, Jack?”

“I’m sorry, Hannibal to tell you this. But Will has gone into some kind of coma and Doctors predict he…may never come out of it.”

“Thank you for the information, Jack.”

Coming out of the memory of the conservation that I had with Jack at the John Hopkins’s Hospital, I head over to the fine leather seat to sit down feeling Bedelia’s gaze on me and lift my head to look at her.

“It’s…difficult to find words today.” I manage to get out, voice breaking slightly which she notices, seeing a crack in the “Person suit” as she calls it and gets up heading over to the drinks cabinet where she gets out two tumblers.

She pours some whisky for the both of us. I feel like declining her offer of a drink and yet, when she brings it over handing it to me I take it from her then bringing it to my lips, take a sip of it.

“Has something happened to deeply affected you, Hannibal?” She asks me, making me turn my gaze to look out the windows of her office to look at the trees with autumnal leaves starting to show swaying in the wind.

“Nothing has happened…that will concern you. It’s just….I’m leaving for Florence tonight.” I reply, making her place the tumbler down on the small table next to her chair.

“Then I guess you do feel emotions. He made you feel…different and now you’re leaving him behind.” She states, only to turn her face to look at me with confusion, when I get up out the chair slipping my coat on and head to the door. “Hannibal, what are…thinking right at this moment?”

A question, which makes me look back at her sitting there in her fine dress with one delicate, petite leg crossed over the other and opening the door leave it unanswered.

There was no need for her to know.





The heart monitor attached to Will, steadily beeps each-time the young man’s heart beats within his rising and falling chest, while oxygen mask has been placed over his face then a shadow peels itself from the far corner of the room.

The shadow walks towards the bed, followed by leaning over as a hand comes up to stroke a strand of hair from Will’s forehead and gently tuck behind his ear then lips bend down to it, lips moving as they calmly whisper something so quiet it is like a gentle breeze ruffling the top of trees.

The shadow pulls back with a whisper of “I’ll be waiting, Myilamis. My sweet, darling….Pearl-Lace.”

Soon sinking back into the shadows until there is only the heart-monitor steadily beeping then it rises slightly, only to go back down again. Then rises again three times and back down again then rises more steadily this time.

Within Will’s body his heart begins to wake from its deep slumber starting to beat faster and faster, until finally sea bluish-green eyes shoot wide open and lips curve into a…seductive smirk.

Will Graham….no longer exists.

Only……Pearl-Lace….remains now.