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Concerto No. 4 in F minor, Op. 8, RV 297

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The burgundy silk sheets were cool against his belly though they were quickly becoming dark and slick with sweat where the sanguine material touched his dripping skin, bleeding dark from it. Being ruined and rendered as he clenched handfuls in his fists. It doesn’t ground him like it should have, like he wanted it to. Will still feels like he is falling from such great heights, dizzying him as he was rhythmically rocked back and forth in the oldest of motions.

Pushing back almost in self defense, Will worked to meet Hannibal’s thrusts, deep powerful movements that made Will feel fucked all the way to his throat. His quivering thighs were already sticky with his spent seed layered over precum, the mixture congealing cool and tacky.

Will’s orgasm having come and gone already left him feeling exhausted, the man barely able to prop himself up for Hannibal who was holding his hips in a grip hard enough to leave a pattern of bruises like strange lace over his flushed, satin slick skin.

The doctor’s stamina was ridiculous, his patience in pleasure matching his virility. “I will not stop if you pass out, Will. Try and stay conscious for me.” Hannibal’s voice rumbled from overhead in warning, in promise, in threat, doing things to Will. If he hadn’t just come already, he might have been interested in doing more. As it was, keeping his eyes open and his shoulders up were trying enough for him. Will compromised, canting his hips up as he braced himself up on his elbows, resting his weary, sweat soaked head on folded arms. Hannibal grunted in appreciation, taking full advantage of the new deeper angle. The empath would have loved to have seen Hannibal’s face in that moment, was tempted to dare and look over his shoulder up at him.

It was at Will’s insistence though that they do it in this position. He still couldn’t risk making eye contact for extended periods of time, even if the gaze belonged to his lover, especially his lover. People deserved to keep their secrets. It was never Will’s intention to steal them. It just happened, his particular skill set making him thief whether he wanted to be one or not.

Even now, that damnable vivid imagination of his was looping in upon itself, picking and choosing random thoughts and half memories at its leisure instead of staying put in the here. His inner self, that pickpocket of glanced fragments and observations made in passing, laid it all out for Will on the wall of his mind, 3D graffiti waiting for his notice. His mind’s eye lazily flickered over to the mural painted there for him in shades of red and black, the finishing touches made with brushes of raven’s feathers and stag’s horn. The image, the answer, jumped out with all the subtlety and starkness of a freshly unearthed corpse meeting daylight for the first time after losing life.

The monsters in his head were real and the biggest one of them all was right behind him, rutting into him about to reach its climax.

The sweat that had burned, covering every available inch of his body, turned icy cold against his skin as Will began to shake from something greater than mere shock. Every instinct exploded and imploded upon itself into panic mode at once, making Will scramble away. Agile and swift as a snake bite, a heavy hand coming down on the back of his neck drove Will into the too soft mattress, while hard fingers of the other dug into his hip, keeping him effectively in place.

“Oh Will…….” Hannibal sighed, breathing in the sour scent of Will’s fear as it spiked, his tip off to the inevitable and ultimately Will‘s downfall to an escape. The zesty mixture of odors-lust, panic, fright, adrenalin- made Hannibal’s mouth water and his pacing flag, his thrusts beginning to lose their timing. Will continued to struggle and Hannibal was fine with that too. He would have lost respect for his lover if he didn’t continue to fight him. Hannibal resolved the issue by laying out his heavier body over Will‘s own, shoving himself deep inside as physically possible before stilling completely as he pressed them both into the mattress.

The erratic sounds Will was producing were not pleasant to listen to so Hannibal ended them by biting down hard on the back of Will’s neck, savagely enough that his teeth entered the meat there, blood welling up in the neat indentations. Definitely silenced to a degree, Will continued to whimper but they were quiet noises that ceased completely when Hannibal shook at his neck and began to move again, the men connected at two points now. Hannibal barely canted his hips in slow, deep strokes as the rest of him forced Will to submit, holding his lover still.

Held firmly in place by teeth and pressing weight, all Will could do was gasp as he felt pooling heat gather deep inside of him, Hannibal finally sated with the taste of hot weeping flesh in his mouth. His body somehow grew heavier with its release. Will found little comfort in that.

Gasping in pain and betrayal so deep that it felt like a killing wound, Will groaning aloud, breathing out hurt as Hannibal freed his teeth from his neck, bright red dripping off of his chin and onto Will’s back. He shuddered as he felt Hannibal lick the droplets off of his skin. “So much for the afterglow.” Will whispered, shivering from more than just cold as blood ran freely down his neck and sweat mingled into the wound to make it sting and burn. “Are you going to eat me now?”

Hannibal took his time cleaning up his mark, admiring it while he did so, his tongue thick and coated with a crimson that tasted finer that any rare vintage he cared to remember, the allure of wine paling in comparison to the bouquet he was savoring at the moment. His dental imprint stood out like a relief against the paleness of Will’s flesh, the doctor making a mental note to rub salted ash into the wound so that it would scar dark and pronounced on the soft skin there. “No.” he answer simply, more intent on chasing a stray rivulet with the tip of his tongue rather than expand on his thoughts.

“That’s not very convincing while you’re still licking me.” Will’s voice was edging toward hysteria as it picked up volume and pitch. Hannibal nipped that in the bud, quite literally, snapping down on his lover’s flesh again and again to an answering shout. “Tasting me….” Will whispered, making himself grow still, his flesh turning stiff and cold with muted panic as it was bit into and further marked, claimed by fang and wicked need for possession. Hannibal was so warm above him, it was like being eaten alive by a furnace.

“Do not be crass. One does not bed food.”, Hannibal sniffed, pulling back far enough to do so, his nose trailing along Will’s hairline, leaving behind a sticky, dark smear in its wake. His warm breath tickled the little hairs there as he openly scented the empath, reveling in the odors he found there.

“Oh, I’m sorry for second guessing the cannibal gnawing on my neck.” Will snapped, trying and failing to remind himself to remain calm. He wasn’t going to get out of this alive, but perhaps he could convince Hannibal to make his demise short and painless by remaining polite.

“I apologize. I got caught up in the moment and to be fair, you were trying to get away.” Hannibal sighed, trailing his nose behind Will’s ear, his thin lips brushing up against the shell of it, his sharp teeth scraping sensitive cartilage that grew fever hot and red. Will couldn’t contain his answering shudder, whether from disgust, fear, or desire was either man’s guess really. Self loathing rose like bile when Will felt his arousal was neck in neck with his fright. He knew he was sick and seven different shades of crazy, but he didn’t need Hannibal to confirm it by cementing the hypothesis into actual theory.

“Please…..could you get off of me?” Will whispered through clenched teeth, trying not to move as the surface of his skin was explored and occasionally tasted, Hannibal breathing him in the way that he always wanted to, had been yearning to do. Since the beginning of their relationship, he had always done this but had been discreet about it, holding himself back. At first, Will considered it weird, then later on erotic. Now, it was just frightening, like a wolf deciding where to start chewing.

“No, I think not. Not just yet.”, Hannibal said, sounding eerily calm even as he shifted his weight, rising up off of Will who was grateful yet sickened as he felt softened slick length and spent pull out and away from him, dribbled down too sensitive skin, further marking him as it defiled. Before Will could react, a sharp weight in the form of a knee to the small of his back and a harsh hand over the wound on his neck kept Will neatly pinned against the mattress. He watched as Hannibal reached over to the nightstand by the bed, rummaging through the drawer there for a moment before producing a full syringe, the plunger of it cocked and ready.

“You planned for this.” Will gasped, renewing his struggles even though he knew they were futile, the needle already piercing a hole in his skin with only the slightest of stings. Of course, Hannibal had. He was the Chesapeake Ripper after all, one of the most meticulous and vicious serial killed ever recorded.

“One should always be prepared for the inevitable.” Hannibal said in hushed tones, letting Will go so that he could lay down on the bed beside him. Freed from his constraints, Will tried to respond, shuffle away, but found his limbs were already going weak and useless to his requests of escape, his brain starting to feel numb and fuzzy around the edges of his consciousness as well. Even as he started to fade, Will was surprised at Hannibal’s decision to use of poison. He would have personally bet on dismemberment but apparently the doctor considered him special enough to kill quickly. Will supposed it was Hannibal’s own special way of telling him that he was loved.

Will smiled at the thought, the irony, of what was his life as he felt his failing body being pulling over into an embrace, Hannibal tucking him in close against his body, tangling their legs together as his arms caged Will in to his side. His head was braced beneath Hannibal’s chin so that his ear was pressed against his chest, listening to his lover‘s….his murderer’s heartbeat.

“No, my lover’s heartbeat.” Will decided as he felt the lids of his eyes grow heavy and his thought processes start to go out one by one like dying stars as darkness, quiet and thick, spilled in, smothering him softly, mercifully in folds of midnight and velvet. He could be allowed one good thing. Will felt he was owed that much at least. As life left him and turned out the lights, Will listened to slow measured heartbeats until even that faded out to nothing.


His vision was the first thing to return when Will woke up, his eyes snapping open to take in knife bright, hurtful light, its presence in the room nearly vindictive. It took Will a moment to realize that he was very much alive unless heaven was severely downplaying itself by looking like an attic converted into an elegant studio apartment. The way his vision swam, Will knew it had something to do with more than just his lack of glasses. He wondered fuzzily where his eyewear could have gone and then about what kind of drugs had been given to him.

Will pitched violently to the side, dry heaving as he went, freshly remembered knowledge slamming to the forefront of his thoughts. Holy hell, Hannibal was the Ripper and Will assumed that he would have just killed him now that he knew the truth. The nausea and heaviness of his body told him otherwise. Will imagined being dead would feel a hell of a lot less painful as feeling returned to all his limbs in rush to keep up with his other returning senses, making the nerve endings prickle raw with new life. No, he was very much alive, damn it. The question now was ‘Why?’.

His arms trembling as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, Will finished trying to retch, nothing coming up anyway except enough stomach acid to burn his throat and sour his mouth. Letting the soft bedding fall away, Will realized that he was naked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that but his body felt clean, his skin supple from a very thorough scrubbing and application of some kind of lotion that smelled expensively subtle, like some sort of wood covered in dew.

Will couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. Hannibal had always complained about his aftershave and lack of personal grooming. On top of being a cannibal and a sadist, it would figure that he would be neurotic enough to remove all trace of it from Will’s person while he could. A quick feel of his face confirmed that his jaw was cleanly shaven as well, his perpetual beard gone, the rediscovered skin feeling fresh and new.

Knowing Hannibal, Will looked around until he spotted the robe that he knew would be there within reach, the loose article of clothing made of dark blue embroidered silk with fabric so rich it felt almost wetly lush against Will’s skin.

Moving his limbs tentatively, Will paused when he heard something metallic clink. Steeling himself for the worse, Will made himself focus, his vision cutting through the haze of lingering drugs to recognize a thick cuff attached to his ankle made of tooled black leather and decorated with complicated looking lock that was more than just decorative. There was a linked steel chain attached to it, the great length of it secured to the heavy, carved frame of the bed Will was currently sitting it. From the looks of it, the chain would allow him to journey around the room and into the small bathroom off to the side of him but no further than that. The door on the other side of the room was out of the question, Will falling out of the bed to stumble toward it only to confirm this.

A swaying journey around the room he was in established Will’s earlier suspicions of it being a converted attic. The duel windows cast enough light into the room to illuminate the cathedral ceiling and warm the honey wood flooring and paneling. Will tapped the glass to find it tempered and too thick to be mistaken for normal window panes. Though he could clearly looks at, Will was willing to bet a lot that he would not be able to break it or that anyone on the street would be able to see him.

All the decor matched in some fashion, each pieces accenting one another in an eye pleasing way, the lines of the room flowing easily from one side to the other. The furniture mostly consisted of bookshelves, every square inch of shelf space filled with tomes, all of which Will had access to. Some painted were here as well, mild landscapes of lakes and woods, calming and lovely in their composition. A small table and chair set stood off in the corner, meant only for a dining pair, tastefully kept separate from the room by the rug it was positioned on. Not too far from that setup was an Ipod sound dock, the sound system being the only real electronic in the room, the model sleek and understated. Its play lists contained a fair amount of classical in them but had some of the other types of music Will liked as well.

The bathroom was an elegant but understated affair of white marble and silver accents, containing the basic toiletries though all of the soaps available to him were scentless. It made sense considering who his captor was, Will mused to himself as he took a long piss, bracing himself up against the wall in classic bar drunk pose to do so. Nothing left to see in his new domain, Will made his way back to the bed, already feeling exhausted. Whatever the hell Hannibal had given him, it was still residing in his system.

The bed was like returning to Mecca after a long journey, the mattress plush, deep, and possibly the most expensive thing Will had ever woken up in with the exception of Hannibal’s own bed of course. The evergreen sheets were made of real silk, the comforter stuffed with goose down, and the pillows contoured memory foam.

All in all, it was nearly the perfect environment for him to relax in with the obvious exception of being chained to the bed by his cannibalistic lover who moonlighted as a serial killer. Will dully noted that he should feel rather panicked and trapped at this point but couldn’t seem to muster up the appropriate amount of energy or enthusiasm for it. Instead he chose to burrow under the sumptuous sheets and comforters until only to top of his head was visible, frosty air tickling his scalp.

Will realized he must have fallen back asleep when he found himself waking up again, only this time he had company. His pillow was replaced with a warm muscular lap while surprisingly gentle hands combed through his sleep mussed hair. The petting slowed to a halt as Will tensed up beneath Hannibal’s touch, signaling to the killer that he was awake and aware whether he wanted him to know it or not.

“Good morning, star shine.” Will murmured, cause why the hell not. There was more ways than being just one kind of dead. He was the paradoxical cat in the box, cast in shadows and uncertain shades of gray. Will had nothing to lose except for his soul’s residence, knowing how Hannibal thought now. He wondered in what manner the good doctor would fake his disappearance and how long Jack would bother looking for him or his corpse. To Will’s surprise, he found himself more worried about his dogs than his own demise, faked or real.

“Closer to evening actually. Did you sleep well?” Hannibal corrected, resuming his affection as he watched his fingers swim through the dips and curves of Will’s soft curls.

“You tell me. You’re the one who drugged me.” Will snorted, closing his eyes, trying not to enjoy the sensation and failing. The doctor was crazy as a soup sandwich but Will could admit to himself that Hannibal had wonderful hands, striking even in form and function, especially when they were running their graceful length up and down his scalp like that.

“I am sorry Will but it was necessary.” Hannibal actually managed to sound remorseful. Will felt like applauding his performance at being human and maintaining expectations.

“Why?” Will opened his eyes to look up at Hannibal to find the doctor studying him. He found he could meet those sanguine earth eyes now, that it didn’t hurt him to do so.

“You know why.” Hannibal said, the edges of his lips lifting in a slight smirk.

“Yes, but I am still curious. Why am I still alive? I should be dead, displayed, and dinner by now based on your pattern.” Will drops his eyes to study the subtle woven pattern of Hannibal’s vest, picking out the green hidden in the various shades of blue.

“You do not know me as well as you think.” Hannibal sighed. In disappoint or deep thought or both, Will wagered a guess. “That will change though over time and effort on both our parts.”

“That sounds ominous.” Will answered dully, because this moment was nice and Will didn‘t get ‘nice‘ a lot in life. It was quiet and calm without any threat of Jack calling him about another mess of lost life or confusing, awkward conversations about him working for the FBI and how detrimental that will be to him with Alana or even that tasteless bitch Freddie Lounds asking for a statement from him.

“It is a daunting task but over time you will be able to see all of me, not just the predator.” Hannibal said softly, his fingers freeing themselves from Will’s locks to start trailing down other bits of skin, wandering over ears, neck, and jaw. Will let him, leaning into the affection, turning his head to help accommodate. It felt good to be touched, to pretend that he was loved by someone else even if it was by a psychopath.

“Just so that you are aware or entertaining any thoughts of escape, the key to your lock will never be on my person while I am in your presence so any plots to kill me would be detrimental to your own survival. The door and stairway to the attic are very well hidden and you will more than likely starve to death before you are discovered if ever. No one will think to look for you here and even if they do, I have soundproofed the attic and installed one way windows. You will be neither seen or heard by another living creature expect for me.” Hannibal intoned, watching intently as he traced Will’s facial features like he was memorizing them through touch alone.

“What about my dogs?” Will asked, his only real concern at the moment. Everything else seems so paltry. His job, his life, his few and far between relationships were all so meaningless when he really thought about it.

“Alana, Beverly and Jack will see to them. Find them homes for most of them though I think Alana will keep Winston for sentimental value.” Hannibal told him with an odd smile in remembrance of that conversation. Everyone had reacted so beautifully to the vacancy that Will had left.

“That’s nice.” Will murmured unconcerned now that he knew his dogs were safe. “Am I considered missing or dead?”

“Missing at this point in time. I have personally filed a report with the Wolf Trap police upon finding you absent from your house and your dogs needing to be fed after you missed an appointment with me and I could not get in touch with you by phone. Of course Jack and the FBI have also been informed of your sudden disappearance. With no signs of foul play or break in to go on, at the moment everyone thinks you simply walked out into the woods in your sleep, have fallen into a ditch and broken your leg. The search teams have turned up nothing of course.”

“Of course not. Who would think to look up in your attic?” Will couldn’t help but laugh, the noise mostly sardonic and slightly bitter in rough sound. Their relationship had been a secret for purely selfish reasons on both their parts. At the time, Will didn’t want to find another physiatrist and he hadn’t wanted Hannibal to get in trouble or get hassled by anyone about them being together. Z would have had a field day if he had ever found out about it. Hannibal had just simply allowed Will to think that he felt the same. “This must have taken some time. Have you been planning this all along?” Will gestured around at room. Everything about it too conveniently fit him, from the color palette to the books that stocked the shelves.

“Will, you must have some idea.” Hannibal said almost reproachfully.

“I do which begs the question that you have been avoiding. Why am I still alive?” Will articulated the words specific and clear, a subtle yet firm demand for an answer without need for volume or emotion. He knew Hannibal would appreciate that polite gesture on his part.

“The answer is simple. I have no wish to kill you or be killed by you.” Hannibal told him, turning Will more onto his back so that he could explore the man’s neck and peeks of exposed clavicle as he shifts the robe’s opening.

“And the more complex answer?” Will sighed at the whisper of silk as he was undressed and positioned.

“You are my lover and my friend. It is rare for me to find either, even more so in a combination. You are precious to me.” Hannibal hummed, his touch gliding over the more curious part of Will’s body that he could reach. Dusky nipples budded and hardened under his fingertips’ explorations. He was tempted to taste their tender fruits, leaning over Will to fulfill this need.

“Do you usually rape people you consider precious?” was the question that brought Hannibal up short, Will blandly meeting his look of surprise as he drew back to regard him.

“That was a low blow.” Hannibal frowned, reigning himself in since they obviously had a difference of opinion on the matter. “I had your consent and I will have it again. It is hardly my fault that you have terrible timing. One can not lament the cow while the enjoying the steak.” He flicked the robe’s silk back into place, resting his hands by his side. Will made no move to leave his lap or his presence though given the option to do so, just studied his complacent reaction.

“That context is hardly comforting considering you think people are steak.” Will pointed out with a slight smile. It was almost amusing that Hannibal had a moral code considering who he really was. How could Will not find it funny?

“At least I am kind to animals.” Hannibal countered. And that shouldn’t have earned him points in Will’s favor but it did.

“Small favors. What do you want from me then?” Will ventured because he was curious. The chained cuff on his ankle meant ownership but in what regard.

“Your companionship, your presence, and your understanding.” Hannibal answered honestly. The time for games between them was over.

“It will be hard for me to get past the whole ‘I eat people’ thing. To my knowledge, there isn’t any sort of couples counseling for it.” Will grinned at the thought, an absurd and fleeting vision of them sitting on a couch together working out that particular issue in the presence of a horrified counselor.

“You have been taught to think too small to appear normal. You are going to know everything about me, my dear one. My beloved.” Hannibal promised, returning to Will’s face to trace the outline of his curved lips so much more pronounced now that all that facial hair was gone.

Will’s eye widened as a dry rough sob sounded from his throat, working its way painfully out as he finally caught on to what Hannibal meant to do, had been planning all the while.

“Please…..don’t.” Will pleaded softly, already knowing that it was useless as he was gently pushed off of Hannibal’s lap and properly over onto his back. He couldn’t bring himself to look as the needle was pressed into his arm, a fresh wash of chemicals hitting his bloodstream like the perfect storm. Unlike before though, he soon just felt pleasantly numb and stoic and pliable as he felt himself gathered up in a close embrace, Hannibal placing them both on their sides, their head comfortably braced up by pillows so that they could look at each other. Will attempted to turn his head away only to have fingers pressed to his temple, moving it back into place.

Gently held there, Will was made to look into Hannibal’s eyes, the drugs turning his focus tunnel toward the dark orbs. Layers of rich coffee, dark chocolate, and soft earth hid sparks of ruby and crimson within their depths, Hannibal’s eyes a strange shade of maroon. Will was so taken by them it took him a moment to realize that Hannibal was talking and had been for some time. Will blamed the sedative cocktail for letting the doctor’s voice flow over and through him as Hannibal started to talk about his earliest childhood memories of being born into an aristocratic family, of his upbringing in Lithuania, but most importantly of all, his beloved sister Mischa.

Either by being propped up in Hannibal’s lap or laid out beside him, whatever position they were in, Will was always made to meet Hannibal’s gaze and sustain eye contact.

Over and over and over again until all sense of self was lost, found, and shared.

Though it would take time, Will would grow be know Hannibal, even it meant becoming him.

This was his design all along.