Will was frustrated. And nothing was helping him. Not the runs he had started doing in the morning, not watching Hannibal swim, not the time he spent training their new puppy. Not even the wedding preparations, not that there was much to do. Since they were now known to be alive and well, people such as Jack Crawford and the FBI were still looking for them. Which meant that Hannibal couldn't have the massive wedding he had planned on. Not that Will minded much. He wasn't one for big weddings. Even with Molly, they had only had a small ceremony and an even smaller reception. No one from Will's life previously had been at the ceremony, and it was the same this time. He didn't want them there, he didn't need them there. Hannibal, however, wanted to show off. Show off himself and show off Will. The other, though, was content with a smaller ceremony.
Though dinner was a different affair.
Hannibal had insisted on making what was essentially their wedding night dinner himself. Or rather, their second wedding night. Will never truly escaped from the idea that their kill of the Dragon was more binding and ceremonial than standing at an altar and exchanging vows. It was an absurd idea, but one he knew Hannibal would also probably agree with, though he never voiced it. It felt like a consummation; like they had finally taken that final step into utter entwinement. The rings on their hands were merely physical representations of their bonds that ran soul deep.
But not even finally saying that Hannibal was his in all the ways that mattered truly ended his frustration.
The wedding did nothing for that frustration; the preparation of their dinner the night before had done nothing.
Ultimately, Hannibal's idea of "rude" was very flexible. Hannibal would kill for small things, but that wasn't Will. It wasn't someone saying something rude that would ultimately land them on the table for Hannibal's creative culinary artistry. He needed something more. Something that would calm that one small part of him left that still believed in some type of justice. Or so he thought. It turned out that there was one other thing that could force Will into a kill. And that was someone attempting to lay a claim, however small, to Hannibal. And Hannibal was more than willing to let his definition of rude include those who sparked Will's jealous, protective, and slightly possessive side. Will knew he would allow it because Hannibal would kill for the same reason.
That was the reason that ultimately propelled their main course.
Will and Hannibal had been shopping for the ingredients for their wedding night dinner. The wine Will had brought was saved for their dinner following the wedding. However, wine wasn't their only ingredient for dinner. Hannibal had been detailing the origin of some meal that had immediately vacated Will's mind the moment he saw one of the market workers with her eye on Hannibal. Listening to Hannibal talk was one of his favorite pastimes, but it was his and his alone.
Will took her eyes.
Hannibal was more than pleased to watch.
But not even that kill, no matter how brutal it was — and it was brutal — satisfied Will's frustration. He was wound up so tight, he was going to start cracking. The worst part was not knowing why. He had been wound up like this before, and that time too, it had involved Hannibal. It was before his encephalitis came to light. His response to finding himself so wound up for no apparent reason was to go to Hannibal. And this time, Hannibal was already here, watching calmly as Will paced or found some other way to relieve his frustration.
Initially, he thought his frustration was sexual, but it didn't feel like sexual frustration. Not the same way he had felt it in the past.
However, it did mean that the moment they returned from the wedding, Will was practically tearing at his clothes. Hannibal was amused as he tore his tie from his neck, about ready to send it flying. But even still, no matter how much he wanted to liter the clothing around the house, he couldn't. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't sit right with Hannibal.
Hannibal, who had followed Will into their house and immediately made for the kitchen to finish the preparations for their dinner.
Will couldn't take it. How was Hannibal being so normal? Unaffected. Was it really just him who was so frustrated? Or was Hannibal just as frustrated over nothing?
Will followed him into the kitchen, pacing in front of the counter as Hannibal moved around the kitchen, owning the space as though he was a god in his domain. And it was his domain and he was quite frankly a god. Will's god.
Hannibal's hair had grown out a bit since they returned, the other not really leaving the house to be far from Will even though they had been back two months at this point.
Will moved around the counter as Hannibal beckoned. Hannibal offered him the ladle he was currently working with, pressing it into Will's hands and guiding his movements. Will's frustration calmed immediately as Hannibal guided his movements. He could feel Hannibal hovering at his shoulder, their bodies pressed together as Will began to take over the last of the meal prep. Hannibal's other hand was on his hip. He wasn't guiding any other movements other than those of his hands, not even bothering to talk as all Will needed was a simple tap this way or that to know exactly what the other wanted.
But what Will wanted was at the forefront of his mind.
He wanted the closeness. Certainly, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms each night, but that wasn't the same. They were close, but not awake for it. He rarely had any nightmares anymore, with Hannibal so close, but it was still sleep. He needed this closeness while awake.
The ladle was loose in his fingers as he turned his head slightly, finding Hannibal over his shoulder, their lips brushing briefly. Will dropped the ladle.
He turned in Hannibal's arms, finding the other equally as receptive to his attention as Will was to Hannibal's. Will pressed against the other, his hands sliding in his suit jacket to pull it away. Hannibal was equally as eager, tugging at Will's jacket and discarding it on the kitchen floor. He pressed the other moving them back into the refrigerator as Hannibal had once done to him. Hannibal's hand moved into his hair, tugging at his curls lightly before they moved off the appliance and through the house toward the stairs. It wasn't exactly graceful, as they managed to fall over on the stairs while they tried to wrestle Will's shirt from him. He landed on top of the other, who didn't seem to care that his body had taken the brunt of the fall onto the stairs. Instead, he tugged Will closer and eventually discarded his shirt haphazardly.
He tore Hannibal's shirt from him before they managed to climb to their feet.
Rather than risk the two of them falling over again, Will wrapped his hands around Hannibal's thighs, lifting him upward. He knew Hannibal drew some joy from the fact that Will could manhandle him, especially now since it meant Will was better.
Hannibal tugged at Will's curls, twisting his head this way and that for better access as they moved through the house, toward the bedroom.
They collapsed onto the bed with very little grace. But it put them close together.
Will groaned at the skin to skin contact, feeling the way the hair on Hannibal's chest pressed against his own. He could feel the other shift and move, the way his hair tickled Will's chest slightly. It was an altogether different experience than the ones he'd had previously, even with other men, but he wasn't averse to it. In fact, he quite enjoyed it.
His lips were everywhere he could reach, and his hands everywhere he couldn't. Hannibal was the same their hands brushing often as they moved around each other, feeling out the other's body. It wasn't as though they were exploring new territory, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves, but it was far different now. Hannibal tilted his head, shifting Will so he could kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids.
Will was shaking in Hannibal's grasp, needing closer.
He turned, finding Hannibal's shoulder where his hand pressed the other closer and sunk his teeth into flesh. Hannibal moaned, praising him gently and massaging his scalp with every flex of his fingers in Will's hair.
Hannibal's hand stroked over his back, both somehow claiming him and fueling the fire that was already burning within him.
He ground his hips down, grinding against Hannibal's still concealed cock with his own. Not that either of them had been freed yet.
Will returned his attention to Hannibal's lips, mouths opening to let tongues explore. He slid his hand into Hannibal's hair, immediately tugging at the strands and making his normally perfectly tamed hair less than tamed.
One of Hannibal's hands pressed against his lower back, forcing him down slightly for them to grind together again. He obeyed, moving his hips to produce some friction between them. Hannibal shifted to trace his tongue around the shell of Will's ear, before tugging the lobe between his teeth lightly. Will rolled them onto their sides, his fingers dancing over the hem of the other's pants, feeling Hannibal nod slightly in encouragement. Will wasted no time undoing his pants and shoving them and the underwear down. Hannibal did the same, his nimble fingers making Will shiver where they grazed over his flesh.
He shuddered when Hannibal's bare leg grazed his. It set him on fire, feeling the skin on skin contact, feeling Hannibal and just Hannibal so close.
Hannibal. His Hannibal. They were bound, conjoined.
Hannibal had captured him. And Will had captured Hannibal in return.
Will pushed Hannibal onto his back once more, this time moving down his body to kiss everywhere he could reach. Hannibal's hands stayed running over his shoulders and into his hair, even as his head fell back. Will could feel the other's chest hair as it crinkled under his lips. But even more than that, he could feel Hannibal's heart hammering in his chest. The other wasn't one to let his heart race, so it stroked what Will could consider an ego to know he had that kind of effect.
Will continued down the other's body, feeling everywhere he was soft and everywhere he wasn't. He nipped at the jut of the other's hips, trailed his tongue over his pelvis, even dipped to press kisses and small bites against his thighs. He knew he was easy the other slightly, avoiding the one thing he was truly aiming for, but Hannibal never protested.
He flicked his gaze up slightly, seeing Hannibal straining to look at him, before he ran his tongue over the other's cock. The moan he elicited was downright sinful. Will dropped his head, taking Hannibal's considerable length in his mouth and bobbing his head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Hannibal's hand fisted in his hair, tugging at his curls, rocking upward slightly into his mouth. He knew the other would be careful, would try not to hurt him. But he wanted him to thrust. He continued, not holding Hannibal's hips in place as he sucked, stroking the base of his cock with his hand.
Hannibal tugged at his hair, his fingers massaging into his scalp before he felt the other push him lightly. Will went. The other's cock continued to slide into his mouth and down his throat until Will felt his jaw straining and his breath cut off. Hannibal didn't keep him there for long, but long enough that Will felt slightly lightheaded.
When Hannibal released him, Will pulled himself off the other's cock, smirking slightly at the man above him. Hannibal raised an eyebrow as Will shifted slightly, running his hand over the other's chest. He crawled back up the other's body, settling himself just at Hannibal's waist.
Hannibal immediately pulled him in for a kiss, his hands running over Will's body happily. But Will had other ideas.
He grasped Hannibal's chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning the other's head slightly. Hannibal moved as he bid, and Will attacked his neck with fervor, licking and biting and sucking a new mark where others had been and faded. At the same time, his fingers traced over the other's lips and Hannibal wasted no time opening his mouth and sucking them in. Will hummed from where he was latched at Hannibal's throat.
He managed to slip a hand between them, wrapping it around his and Hannibal's cocks, stroking gently. One of Hannibal's hands wrapped around his wrist, holding his hand in place as he continued to wet his fingers, while the other hand joined Will's around their cocks, the two of them settling into a comfortable rhythm of rocking and stroking.
After several moments, and a series of marks that trailed down Hannibal's neck, he pulled his fingers from the other's mouth. It took little effort to push Hannibal's legs apart as he settled between the other's thighs, but it took more effort to move his hand between them. His other hand was still locked with Hannibal's around their cocks while Hannibal occupied his mouth with his own. He managed, nonetheless, to find Hannibal's entrance with probing fingers.
"Will." Hannibal moaned his name into his mouth, a sound that Will was grateful for.
He had to let go of the two of them to gain better access, balancing himself on his arm while he pushed a finger inside Hannibal's body.
The other groaned, pulling his legs up more to help him. Will pushed inside him with one finger at first, as Hannibal tugged at his hair lightly.
Pleasure and arousal pooled in his gut, amplified by every moan he managed to elicit from Hannibal.
Will shifted to add another finger, slowly before scissoring. He doubted Hannibal actually cared how much prep he did, but neither he nor Will was the kind of monster that would cause pain in this way. However, he was certain that Hannibal was letting Will have his way. However he wanted Hannibal, the other would let him.
He pulled his fingers from the other's body, this time reaching for the lube in the bedside table that he knew was there, even if he wasn't told as much. He didn't bother reading the label, though he was certain it was absurd and fancy. Instead, he coated his fingers, this time adding a third as he slid back into Hannibal.
The other's body was twitching with his movements, his eyes closed and uttering what Will was certain were obscenities in a few different languages. Hannibal couldn't keep his hands to himself, even if it was just stroking the arm that Will was balanced on.
When Will was certain the other was ready, he opened the lube once more, this time coating his cock. Hannibal shifted more up the bed, and Will followed before settling between his thighs once again.
Hannibal's hands were on his hips, guiding him closer as Will lined himself up. He pushed into Hannibal slowly, groaning at the all-encompassing heat. Hannibal moaned as well, adjusting his fingers to secure his grip on Will's hip and drag him closer. That was until Will had pushed into Hannibal fully, buried to the hilt, and Hannibal's hands moved up his body, pulling him down so they were chest to chest.
Will began to shift slowly, watching Hannibal under him who was watching him right back. One of Hannibal's hands was cupping his face, his thumb stroking over Will's cheek lightly while the other pressed against his lower back, guiding Will's movements gently.
Will was in utter awe of Hannibal. Everything about him had Will entranced. But being this close brought him a different leave of satisfaction. He needed this. He needed this closeness. This physical conjoining to mirror their joining in every other way. He needed this physical grounding after feeling like he was floating so long untethered.
Hannibal was his tether. His safe place. His home. The one person on the planet he would truly kill for.
"Come here," Hannibal coaxed, turning his head so their lips could meet again.
He wanted to lose himself in Hannibal.
Hannibal's hips arched to meet every thrust of Will's which had grown in intensity since he started. He could feel every way Hannibal tensed and relaxed around him, every time found the other's prostate, and every time his moans rumbled in his chest, sending shivers and pleasure straight through his body.
Hannibal's arms were around him, holding him in place especially the back of his head as he continued to ravage Will's mouth. Will set a brutal pace, the bed rocking and creaking under their movements. He was certain it was a strong bed, but part of him wanted to break it. The mattress creaked under them, the springs squeaking lightly.
After a moment, he pulled himself upward, tugging Hannibal with him and settling the other in his lap. It was so much deeper this way, he felt like he was buried in Hannibal's very core. The other's arms were draped over his shoulders as he clung to Hannibal's lower back, grinding slightly. Hannibal began to move, his thighs flexing. Will thrust upward, meeting every downward drop of Hannibal's hips. One of Hannibal's hands fisted in his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck gently despite the lack of gentleness in their other movements.
Will's mind was gone. Bathed in pleasure and wrapped in Hannibal, the outside world or even the world outside their bedroom didn't matter to him.
One of his hands moved to brush over the bullet wound in Hannibal's back, feeling the raised flesh and remembering exactly what it meant. Hannibal mirrored him, bodies grinding together as they remembered what might as well have been their vows anyway.
I won't watch you die.
Will wrapped his other hand around Hannibal's leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Hannibal buried his face in Will's shoulder, his teeth latching onto the skin there and biting. Will's head fell back.
With a few more thrusts and strokes, Hannibal was spilling over his hand, his body becoming rigid.
Will couldn't take it anymore, sinking into his pleasure and with another couple of thrusts, came inside Hannibal.
Both were still for a moment, chests heaving as Will slowly rocked into the aftershocks of his orgasm before they fell back onto the bed. Hannibal's grip on him was tight as Will tucked himself under the other's chin, savoring the smell of Hannibal sweaty and well fucked. He supposed to an extent, he understood Hannibal's interest in his scent.
They were there for a while until their breathing and heart rates calmed and Will and had turned them on their sides.
"You're beautiful like this," Hannibal murmured into his hair.
Will tilted his head up, looking into the other's face. "Someone once told me that I should be intimate with my instincts."
"It was good advice," Hannibal murmured, stroking his cheek.
After another few seconds, Hannibal began to move away but Will's grip tightened on him.
"Where are you going?"
"To clean up and the dinner," Hannibal answered, but didn't move anymore with Will holding him in place.
"Dinner can wait."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
"It's my wedding night," Will continued. "And I'm not done with you yet."
Hannibal barely had time to give him what was ultimately a menacing, toothy grin before Will attacked him again.
Then next day, Will lounged in Hannibal's lap, his head on the armrest of the couch and his back propped against Hannibal's thigh. He was settled between Hannibal's legs with his own stretched out onto the rest of the couch and holding the glass of wine that he had been nursing in his hand. His eyes were closed slightly, drifting in and out of consciousness while Hannibal stroked his hair with one hand and read on his iPad with the other.
"Will," Hannibal said softly and he felt the other move as he opened his eyes.
Hannibal had turned the tablet to face him, showing the article he was reading.
Murder Husbands: Alive and Now Officially Husbands?
Will chuckled to himself before he discarded the wine glass on the table behind him, next to Hannibal's.
"Should have killed her." He muttered, shifting so he could rest his head on the other's shoulder.
Hannibal huffed out a small laugh. "There's still time."
"Mm," Will hummed. "Not today."
He settled more against Hannibal, closing his eyes and drifting again.
At the same time, Hannibal shifted, pressing a kiss against his curls and sighing softly.
"Whatever you wish, Will."