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"Would you like a bath, Will?" Hannibal asked.
Will didn’t know if he should accept. In fact, he felt a sudden urge to leave. What was he thinking anyway? Was he thinking at all? How much longer would he live - or want to live - knowing that he was such a pathetic mess? He decided he really shouldn't be there. Hannibal certainly didn’t appreciate lost weaklings wandering into his house in the middle of the night.
"I - I'm just gonna go. I'm sorry I bothered you. It was a mistake," he stammered, getting up from the sofa in Hannibal Lecter's living room. He was stopped halfway when Hannibal laid a hand on his shoulder, gently keeping him from standing up.
"You stay there," Hannibal said bluntly, "and I will arrange the bathtub and some towels for you. I believe it’s best for everyone if you drink that tea. Your body is terribly cold."
As Hannibal left the room, the ghost of his touch lingered on Will’s shoulder. Will realized Hannibal’s hair was still perfectly combed, which might indicate that he hadn't gone to bed yet when Will arrived at his place a few minutes earlier.
Will had been found sleepwalking on the road to Wolf Creek again. Only this time, it wasn’t the police. This time, he had nearly been run over by a truck. The driver carried a horse, and Will woke up to the man shouting that if the horse had gotten hurt, he would go back into the truck and run Will over a dozen times.
Will took a sip of his tea. The sleepwalking had gotten out of control - as had the nightmares. He had run back to his house then, panicking and afraid of himself and everything around him. He couldn’t sleep without waking up in a pool of terrified sweat or risking getting killed on the road. He couldn’t be alone. And that's when he packed a couple of shirts and drove in a haze to Dr. Lecter's house.
"Will?" Hannibal called from the door. "Come. It’s all ready for you."
*
Hannibal sat in the dark on a chair by the window, watching Will's chest rise and fall in an irregular rhythm. It was clear that there was something disturbing going on in his dreams. However, the nightmares weren’t the only thing that had been disturbing Hannibal that evening.
While Will relaxed in the bathtub, Hannibal grabbed the shirt his guest left on the bed. He meant to properly fold it and set it aside on a chair, but he ended up bringing it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent of grass, mist, and clean sweat made him close his eyes in appreciation. Hannibal was startled by the noise of the water being drained behind the door.
Now, as Will slept, Hannibal observed him closely, and the effects were disturbing. He noticed that those flannel buttoned-up shirts could hide a great deal. Will's body showed underneath the thin, worn white t-shirt, which clung to his skin with sweat. The man was dripping, endlessly fighting demons no one could see but himself, and the effort made his limbs respond even though he was unconscious.
Hannibal was surprised to realize that he was analyzing every bit he could see through that fabric in the dim light. He realized that Will's body was strong and lean, muscles carved by years of loneliness in a large, isolated house. It wasn't idle hours at a gym drowned in vanity that made Will look like a man; it was chopping wood, repairing boats, climbing roofs, and carrying strays. It was all that hard labor that Will occupied himself with so he could try and stop his restless mind. He became built and strong because of his frail empathic nature, trying to shut down that gift that cursed him daily. Will was a fine specimen of a body, like the ones Hannibal studied in medical school, and a fine specimen of intelligence, haunted by the brilliance of his nature.
Will started to make noises in his sleep; soft at first, but quickly they grew into grunts and panting. Whatever he was dreaming of, it certainly wasn’t a good thing. In a moment, it became too much for Hannibal to watch in silence. He didn’t pity Will, though. What he felt was anger and resentment towards that fear that insisted on hurting such a fascinating man.
Hannibal rose from his chair and silently made his way to the bed. He sat by Will's right side and gingerly placed his hand onto the man's chest. It was soaking wet, his breath uneven. Hannibal swallowed hard before speaking. “Will,” he called gently. “Will. Wake up.”
Will’s eyes jerked open as he gasped for air. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was. He sat up slowly, blinking heavily. Hannibal’s hand slipped down from his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was—”
“I know. Please don’t apologize.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Hannibal could smell the sweat dripping from Will’s forehead to his chest. The evidence of all that terror made Hannibal feel inflamed. His jaw clenched as he made a new decision. “You are soaking wet, William. Take that shirt off. I am going to fetch you a towel.” When he got up, Will tried to protest, but Hannibal wouldn’t hear it. “Now,” he commanded as he left the room.
Will was left alone with his own shame. He realized the bed was damp and his shirt was disgusting. He removed it and tossed it into a corner, feeling an unfamiliar sense of security. It was nice to finally have someone he trusted telling him what to do. It was nice not having to think about anything, not having to figure anything out. It was nice to have a leader who called the shots in things that didn’t involve blood or violence. Will felt the closest to okay he had felt in a while.
When Hannibal returned, looking unshakeable in his red robe, he didn't hand the towel to Will. He sat in the same spot he had just been on the bed and scanned Will from head to waist. He started drying Will's waist with the towel, causing him to shiver and breathe shallowly with uncertainty. Somehow, he decided it was better not to question. Somehow, he felt like that was exactly what he expected to happen.
Hannibal dried Will’s abdomen and his glistening chest, up his shoulders and down his arms. He stared at Will’s lips rather than his eyes when he dried his face. “Chin up,” he commanded, and Will obeyed.
The sight of his pulsating neck was too much for Hannibal. He held Will by the nape of his neck and dropped the towel aside to steady his chest with his other hand. “Be quiet, now,” he murmured when Will stumbled through some surprised question that died before leaving his lips.
Slowly, Hannibal approached the man’s throat. He touched it with the tip of his nose at first and inhaled deeply, taking in all that he could. Will smelled fresh and vulnerable, and Hannibal felt a hunger stir inside a place long forgotten. He ran his nose down Will’s neck, and then ran his tongue up to the back of his ear. As predicted, he tasted exquisite.
Will's mind raced as Hannibal pulled away from their kiss, his grip still firm on Will's chin. Hannibal's appearance was almost feral, with his hair falling onto his face and his lips and cheeks flushed. Will watched as Hannibal tilted his head back and closed his eyes, slowly licking his own lips. When Hannibal tipped his head back down and opened his eyes, they locked onto Will's with a fierce intensity.
"What are you doing?" Will asked, even though he already knew the answer and had no intention of fighting it. Hannibal's amusement was evident as he allowed a rare smile to cross his face.
Drawing close to Will's ear, he brushed his lips against it ever so slightly. "What I am going to do," he murmured, his voice husky and his accent thick through gritted teeth, "is fuck you, Will. I am going to fuck the fear out of you." Firmly gripping Will's chin, he tipped his head to the side to gain better access. "I will make you so filled with desire and so overwhelmed with pleasure that there won't be any room left for fear. Capisce?"
As Hannibal looked back at him, Will saw only willingness and pleading in his own eyes. Hannibal maintained his grip on Will's chin as he brought their mouths together, starting with a gentle brushing of lips before drawing Will's upper lip into his mouth. Will shivered with anticipation as they explored each other's mouths, their desire growing with each passing second.
As the kiss deepened, Will momentarily forgot everything else, consumed by the feeling of Hannibal's lips on his. But as rational thought returned, he questioned what he was doing. Sleeping with Hannibal? He had never slept with a man before, and now he was trapped in Hannibal's grip, his head spinning with desire. But the moment passed quickly as Hannibal bit his lip, erasing any lingering doubts. Will felt an overwhelming desire to submit to Hannibal's will, feeling protected, guided, helpless, and incredibly aroused.
Hannibal was thrilled when he felt Will's fingers clasping his hair, realizing that the teacher had given in. However, he knew he had to control himself, getting quite worked up with Will's taste, the texture of his lips, the liveliness of his tongue, the willingness of his touch, and the overwhelming need he had for guidance. Hannibal wanted to consume him whole. Strangely enough, he did not want to dissect him and keep him in his freezer while he figured out the right seasoning for each part. He preferred Will alive, desperate for touch, with his lips soft under his scruff, moaning softly into Hannibal's mouth.
Hannibal pushed Will's body down in one swift move and lay on top of him, pressing him down onto the mattress. Will welcomed the pressure, feeling both safe and turned on by the proximity. Hannibal was a rare and exotic man, attractive in so many ways, and now he was biting on Will's jaw, following down to his neck. Will had a faint smell of soap and sweat, which Hannibal appreciated as he kissed and tasted his skin. He kept going lower, down his chest, his nipples, and his ribs, which trembled under the touch of Hannibal's sharp, small teeth.
Hannibal kissed his sides and down his navel, his lips ever open, tasting every inch he could. He took his time, and by the time he got to Will's underwear, the man was suffering with anticipation. Hannibal smiled when he saw the pressure on Will's boxers, a tent up the fabric, ready and inviting. Hannibal ran the tip of his nose up the length and took a deep breath, marveling at the scent of Will's lust. He let his mouth fall open and ran his bottom teeth all over the length, through the fabric, softly biting at the tip, and he was pleased to find Will writhing under his touch. Hannibal got up to his knees so he could have his hands free to get rid of that final piece of fabric. He placed both his hands down Will's navel and slid them down, hooking his fingers underneath the waistline of the underwear. He moved his hands outwards and slowly brought them down, setting Will's erection free into the cool air.
When Will looked down, he saw a sight he never thought possible. Hannibal's hair was all over, his cheekbones sharp and flushed, his lips wet and red, and his eyes burning bright with a hunger Will had never seen before. Hannibal looked up at him, sticking his tongue out and licking Will from base to top before taking him into his mouth.
The only thing that went through Will's mind was that he was going to lose it. He didn't remember ever feeling this aroused. He didn't know if it was about how Hannibal did things or if it was just Hannibal. Will had never been that turned on, to the point of feeling a dull ache from all the swelling down his groin. He wasn't able to figure out if his previous sexual encounters were not good enough or if it was the fact that Hannibal, the pristine, collected, flawless, and respected Doctor Lecter, with his exotic features and talented mouth, was going down on him hard and hungry, his silky bangs tickling Will's navel as his head bobbed up and down.
It was all over too soon. The cold air hit Will's cock when he was suddenly left unattended and slick. He opened his eyes, still panting, and found himself in an empty room. It only took a second for Hannibal to emerge from the bathroom door, holding a small white tube in one hand as he loosened the knot on his robe with the other. Will's big, boyish eyes paid attention to him as he opened the robe, revealing the naked body underneath.
Despite being nearly as old as Jack, Hannibal looked attractive in ways a man his age usually doesn't. His Lithuanian genes provided him with an olive skin tone that resisted the cloudy days of Baltimore. Hannibal was surprisingly lean, with shaped and strong arms, and on some unconscious level, Will figured that the doctor would be able to lift him up with ease. He didn't even flinch as his body became bare, pacing strongly towards the bed in poised, swift steps, dropping the robe to the ground without a glance. The sight made Will's stomach drop.
"Turn around," Hannibal commanded, putting one knee on the bed. "Now."
Will did as he was told, anxious but also excited. He was scared, anticipating pain, and a tiny part of him felt like panicking and running away. But it didn't matter much anyway. Will was used to pain in many different ways, many of those much worse than physical discomfort. The thought of what was about to give him that pain made the whole thing exciting in a way it shouldn't be. He felt so many butterflies in his stomach that he was afraid he might float away, and being face down on the mattress, not seeing what Hannibal was up to, made the sensation overwhelming.
Soon enough, he felt skilled fingers tracing down his spine. Hannibal placed one knee on each side of Will's legs and practically sat on his thighs as he ran his fingers lower and lower until he was in unexplored territory. He held Will down with one hand, firm on his back, as the other circled around his entrance. "Shhh. There's no need to worry," he whispered when he felt the teacher's breath go shallow and irregular. "It's only me, Will. You know I would never hurt you," he reassured, sliding one finger in. "Not in a bad way, at least. That would be so rude," he smiled to himself, working with his hands. He realized Will said something, but the words were lost in the covers. "What was that?"
Will turned his head more to the side, taking a deep breath before saying, “I want you to do it rude.”
He regretted saying it the moment the words echoed around the room, for Hannibal stopped moving his fingers. Will closed his eyes and cursed his stupid mouth for a second – who even said that stuff, anyway? He thought he probably sounded pathetic and it had turned Hannibal off. However, he was suddenly turned on his back and attacked by Hannibal’s savage mouth, who seemed about to devour him whole. They kissed fiercely, and Hannibal, who had never felt so physically attracted to a body or an activity as mindless as intercourse, felt an intense urge to fuck Will senseless into his soft, expensive mattress.
And that’s what he started doing in that very moment. He let go of the careful touching and preparing of a fragile body, only to attend Will’s instructions and do it the way he wanted. Will groaned loudly from the first thrust, feeling stretching and burning and pain and just so, so alive. He couldn’t live in his fear any longer. He couldn’t make himself go any other place than there, into any other mind but his own. He wasn’t able to feel anything aside from the things Hannibal made him feel at that very moment. And so, despite his body’s initial shock, he rapidly started to feel pleased with what was happening. As the pain subsided and pleasure took place, Will moaned through an insistent grin, opening his eyes every once in a while to recapture the image of savage, merciless Hannibal Lecter pounding him down the way he always needed.
Despite his intentions of controlling everything, Hannibal realized he was starting to lose his grip. Not only was Will tight and warm and welcoming, but he was also smiling. In those months they had known each other, Will rarely ever smiled, but now he was doing it consistently, only changing his expression when his chin dropped and his mouth formed a perfect, appetizing ‘O’. Hannibal, who hadn’t been so deeply affected by someone else since he was a child, felt his guts stir so bad he was afraid he might bring himself to ruin. He lowered his body and pushed his face into Will’s neck, breathing him in as he moved his body forcefully, his thrusts becoming erratic. However, he only allowed himself to do that for a few more seconds before he slid out of Will completely. He stood up beside the bed, hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath.
“What is it?” Will asked, sitting up on the bed. He knew his body would be so very sore the next morning. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched Hannibal flex his muscular back before turning to Will.
“Just an old man trying to keep up with you,” he answered with a smile. His small teeth flashed in the dim light, bringing a pinch of sweetness to his wild look. He stepped closer to the bed and touched Will’s chin, tilting his head up. “Are you okay?”
Will nodded, moving over to give Hannibal some space to sit, which he gratefully took. Didn’t matter how many bodies he carried and disemboweled every month, he could feel his arms burn. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his chest. Hannibal didn’t appreciate getting sweaty. He leaned back against the headboard and, to his surprise, Will sat on his lap.
“Oh,” he said, “what’s this now?”
Will kissed Hannibal, soft and lazy, sliding his hands up his strong arms. He stopped the kiss but kept their faces close, noses touching. As he placed himself onto Hannibal’s cock, he said, barely above a whisper, “I’m not afraid anymore.”
He started moving his hips back and forth, pleased when he saw that Hannibal closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his breathing becoming heavier again. It didn’t take long for Will to figure out the best moves, pleased to finally have a tiny bit of control, even though it was handed to him. His mind was no longer invaded by others; he saw nothing but Hannibal’s flushed lips parted, he heard nothing but the small ah’s that came out of his mouth. Will bit his lip, trying to contain his smile as he moved faster and harder, figuring out the angle that took him to the same place as Hannibal was.
The room now echoed the thuds of the heavy headboard against the walls, but none of them paid attention to that. Hannibal tried to grab Will’s hips to try and regain a bit of control, but Will gripped his forearms firmly and pressed them against the wall, over Hannibal’s head. Will had strong hands and also a new, recently gained, strong determination. He held Hannibal down, focusing on the movements, on the moment, on the doctor’s ragged breaths and the jerks of his hips as he came.
“Yes,” Will whispered, sliding his mouth against Hannibal’s sweaty neck. He slowed his movements and let go of his arms, only to cup his face in his hands and kiss him hard.
Hannibal didn’t hesitate to grab Will’s cock in one hand, working swiftly as his hips regained force. With the other hand, he held Will’s wrist. Hannibal took Will’s fingers to his mouth and sucked gently on his the tips of his fingers. The teacher had to steady himself with one hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, continuing his moves until he felt a cold shiver come down his spine when his orgasm shattered him near unconsciousness.
When he came to his senses again, he was lying on Hannibal’s shoulder, their chests sticky and pressed together. He licked his lips, his throat dry from breathing through his mouth for so long. He felt soft hands running up and down his back and he smiled to the sensation. He was utterly, deliciously exhausted.
They didn’t move for a while. As their heartbeats came back to normal, the ghost of their orgasms lingered in a steamy aftermath, and Will came to finally realize that he had just been fucked by his psychiatrist. He couldn’t help but laughing softly, rolling his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. “What is it, Will?” The doctor asked.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with more thinking and discussing. He didn’t want any more talking. He had had all the therapy he needed for that night. He just wanted to stay in that feeling of being whole, comforted by the promise of a long night of heavy, dreamless sleep.