Will Graham woke up still drunk from the series of miniature nightmares he experienced the night before, eyes puffy and swollen. They played on repeat, and when he had managed to take a break, he spent that time vomiting in his cell toilet, occasionally hearing an impatient shush within the night. His head was pounding--he hadn’t needed to make it worse.
Or at least, that had been the case before hearing a soft-spoken “Will” coming from the abyss of the outside world. Immediately, when seeing Hannibal, Will had more than a pounding headache. Seeing Dr. Lecter made his headache searing; his eyes fluttering as he struggled to keep the pain under his control.
Not here, not in front of him . Get. it. Together.
“Dr. Lecter…” Will retorted, sitting on the edge of his bed, hating how vulnerable he felt--how weak. He wanted to be able to hide from out of Lecter’s view--to hide somewhere from out of the patient glance of the older man. To be viewed like some animal on display, for the likes of him to gawk and stare, was humiliating.
But Will stiffened his lip, letting his eyes look up to see Hannibal. He kept his pride. “What a surprise.”
It was flat enough to make the man inch a bit closer to the prison bars. Hannibal looked at Will for a moment more in silence before he announced his observation.
“You haven’t been sleeping.”
“Well, I get so excited that I can barely sleep.” Will responded, beginning to retract as he curled his chin into his own hands, “This place will do that to you, you know. Not that you would, anyway.”
“One could say that I’ve had my fair share of being confined within a steel box. That’s not an experience you tend to forget, no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh yeah?” Will ran a hand over his face, beginning to lay back down on his bed. Before he could lay recumbent, the conversation made him freeze leaned against the cot.
“Tell me, Will. Do you yet feel the imprint of the cot embedded in between your shoulder blades? Have the cell bars callused your hands just yet?”
To this, Will could not respond. It was amazing how the human body reacted to its general surroundings. Already, he had become immensely sore. Already his hair felt brittle, his joints seeming to freeze in their place. His skin would have been dry if not for the buckets of sweat he managed to produce every night when he could no longer make himself stay awake. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hannibal, all-black taut skin with the towering antlers of an ethereal stag hovered over him, watching him as he slept, watching as he only traveled to previous crime scenes to watch Will indulge a deep, and insatiable bloodlust.
“No.” Will snapped himself out of his own thoughts. “Not yet.”
After a moment, Hannibal pondered in thought.
“Hannibal, why are you here?”
The man’s eyebrow lifted as he processed the question, his twinkling, black eyes rolling down towards the floor as he held his suit jacket.
“I thought I would come by to check on you.”
“I thought we already talked about the trajectory of our friendship, Dr. Lecter…”
To that, there was no response. Hannibal looked up, looking at Will in one more moment of silence before he asked,
“Do you ache, Will?”
For some reason, the word stung. It threw Will off-guard. Hadn’t he already asked that question? Hadn’t calloused depicted an aged pain, aged prolonged suffering that one could equate to aching --why ache ? And before Will could ask himself some more questions, the man froze, his blood running cold.
“Incarceration only seems to emphasize that feeling. That need, that want.”
Will, beginning to already realize what Hannibal was asking, asked the question again to himself in an absent state of mind .
Was he aroused, Will concluded. Was he able to indulge and satisfy those urges when he wanted to or was he forced to keep them under control?
“Why would you ask me something like that?”
“It’s just a question. A curiosity I’ve had for the past few days.”
“Alana not keeping your mind occupied enough?”
This made Hannibal smile a bit, the corner of his mouth perched as he let out a short laugh through his nose.
“Did you come to mock me, Hannibal?”
Will sat up from his bed, beginning to walk closer and closer to Hannibal.
“You take everything from me when I find the skeletons, not so much in your closet. You sleep with the woman I find myself pining over, and you ask me if I ache--”
“--Away from the bars, Graham!” That same impatient voice interjected, making Hannibal look back.
Truth was when he hadn’t been living in his nightmares, he had been too tired to touch himself. Too afraid. Too awry.
His hands hadn’t helped--he lied through his teeth for the sake of his pride, and yet even still, felt it unraveling at his feet. His hands had been sore; there was a callous growing right in between his middle finger and ring finger that made him feel like he was grazing his own skin when he had tried. Besides, if he was going to give Dr. Chilton a show, he might as well have invited the man downstairs to watch. That made Will laugh a little bit. Get his money’s worth , he supposed.
Something told him Chilton would like that.
“It’s not like I have the privacy,” Will surrendered. “Of course I.. ache .”
“You have it now.” Dr. Lecter said simply.
“So what? You want me to drop my pants?”
Hannibal smiled once more. The smile turned promptly into a stern pout. The man took a step back.
“Well, if you feel so inclined, Dr. Chilton’s ears are closed...for now. Let me see if I can blind the eyes for a moment.”
“Hannibal, what are you about to do? Hannibal! Hannibal!”
The man walked away for a moment.
“I said away from the bars, Graham! One more time and I’m coming over!”
Will wanted so badly to scream. He wanted so badly to warn the guard--to tell the man to run for his life, and that he was in danger. But it all got caught within the back of Will’s throat. He squeezed the steel bars with urgency, pressing his body to the bars as if spontaneously, he would become an X-Men and bend the metal to his will. Instead, he watched Dr. Lecter as the man crept inside of the guard’s protected office, took his head within his hold, and suffocated the man until he was unconscious.
When Hannibal had returned, he looked to Will.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As serious as you are, Will.”
Will, now panicked, now considering the depth of Hannibal’s action, felt his own hands shaking.
“I don’t…I can’t, I…”
“Do you trust me?”
Will felt his stomach turn.
“Is that a trick question?”
“Come closer...come find out.”
He wanted to turn over and sleep--he wanted to yell for another guard, and unsuccessfully try to get Hannibal caught in the act. He thought about that for a moment, ultimately deciding against it. The both of them knew that it would be lives wasted in vain for an outcome so unreachable it was almost comedic. Instead, he let himself turn pale and crept closer to the man.
When he came to the bars, Hannibal had folded up the sleeves to his shirt, his suit jacket hanging from the prison guard’s chair with a confident negligence.
“Are you going to make me ache, Dr. Lecter?” Will had become a shell of himself. Unsure within this moment, he let his body speak for them.
Will’s body chose to follow directions. He sighed deeply through his nose, turning around slowly.
“Lean against the bars.”
Will closed his eyes, leaning his back against his cell doors. He had been trembling, this detail becoming known to him when he felt Hannibal’s hand wrap around his jaw and bring the man as close to his ear as he could get.
“Are you nervous, Will?” Hannibal’s voice had been soft--delicate, like when he spoke to Alana.
“Yeah...a little.” He was losing his discretion. He was becoming comfortable around Hannibal again, trusting.
“You’re about to feel a little uncomfortable,” Hannibal warned.
Will felt his erection pressing behind him, despite the cell doors. He felt Hannibal getting harder the moment he took his hand, running his middle and index fingers against Will’s lips until they opened properly for him, and as those same fingers started to reach far back into his throat, making him choke.
“Easy, Will…” Hannibal coached, continuing to finger the man’s mouth. When he was finished, he collected enough spit to begin working Will into his hands, taking no time to reach into the groin pocket of the jumpsuit, and wrapping his slicked hand firmly around Will’s cock. Will moaned, whimpered , at the feel of him.
“This is some kind of conjugal visit…” Will laughed in between his patchy breath. Hannibal whispered in his ear again.
“We don’t have much time, Will, I’m afraid.” Hannibal’s grasp tightened, his stroke deepening with a passion that made Will stop in his tracks.
Hannibal added a second hand when there was enough spit. It made the man in his arms tense and release, holding his hands firmly around the bars and holding obediently still.
“Why are you doing this, Hannibal?”
“That’s what friends are for, Will.”
When Hannibal said it, he said it like a professional opinion more than with cordial, synergetic praise. His voice was stern, cold, there was nothing now but the sounds in between them. The sound the saliva made as Hannibal stroked Will’s erection, the soft moans Will stifled, whispering them into the darkness of his cell.
“Oh, f-fuck--” He braced himself, biting into his teeth as he squirmed.
Hannibal took a handful of Will’s hair, holding his head back against the bars. There was so little he could do with Will imprisoned like this, and with such little time, but he focused on how Will’s body reacted to his touch. When he started from the base of Will’s cock, he froze. When he started with massaging his balls, his entire frame trembled altogether, his cock pulsated and throbbed with appreciation.
Will had flushed--his cheeks and skin now reddened with the feel of Hannibal with his hands on his body, how his legs buckled. His first orgasm hadn’t been long--in a few moments, Will shot a load within Hannibal’s grasp, watching it splat against the cement floor, Hannibal feeling the remnants as it made a train down over his hands. He used it to keep stroking, Will’s body jerking.
“Hannibal...H-Hannibal, I...that’s enough.”
“We have time for one more.”
Will whimpered, goosebumps now over his skin. He was sure he couldn’t cum once more--but Hannibal felt it, he could feel it when he throbbed. He had one more in him.
“--You’ll be grateful you came a second time. The aches won’t be as prevalent through the week.”
“--ugh, f-fuck--Hannibal, I--”
Hannibal worked his shaft a little harder, holding Will’s mouth as his moan elongated and grew louder. Will’s frame shook completely, Hannibal taking the man in his limited hold, pinning him to where he stood and continued until he himself ran out of breath.
More saliva, more pressure, more sensitivity leaving Will putty in the man’s hands. Hannibal used the bars to his advantage, leaning into them and beginning to jerk Will as if both of their lives depended on it. Will had managed to stifle himself, moans now manifesting in deep diaphragmatic breaths--curdled with animalistic, masculine growls. He held Hannibal’s wrists, leaning his head back as he milked him for every drop he had.
Hannibal knew--he let his hair fall over his face as he worked to hear Will’s quiet groan, the load cupping in Dr. Lecter’s hand as he held Will. Will held himself up, his legs and knees now like jelly underneath him, making his entire body bead with sweat.
Will turned around, leaning his head against the bars.
“Thank you…” He sighed. Their foreheads pressed lightly through the bars.
Will swallowed, still an inch away from Hannibal’s embrace. He noticed the man’s erection and tried to reach for him. But Dr. Lecter caught his hands.
“There’s no time.” Hannibal’s labored breath stabilized. “But I will be back.”
Looking over at him, Hannibal forgot for a moment that the situation was time-sensitive. He walked backward from the cell.
Hannibal swallowed and nodded, beginning to get his suit jacket and leave before the prison guard began to regain consciousness.
“Goodbye, Will. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Lecter…”
And with that, now alone with his thoughts and the sensations his body reminded him of--Will sat on the bed, his hands now behind his head.
Dr. Chilton would be disappointed indeed. His eyebrow had furrowed with an impatience that told security to fix the problem and to fix it now. Alas, when the recorders had finally been back online, Will Graham had been sleeping soundly in his bed.