Yearn

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/15173030.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Relationship: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Character: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter
Additional Tags: Murder Husbands, Masochism, Sadism, Gore, Murder Kink,
Nightmares, Mental Health Issues, Wet Dream, Also a nightmare
lowkey, Possessive Behavior, Manipulation, Cannibalism, season 2
kinda, season 2 - freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,
Daddy Kink, Running Away Together
Stats: Published: 2018-07-05 Updated: 2021-01-03 Chapters: 20/? Words:
22580

Yearn
by formeldehyde

Summary

After Will kills Randall, things go a little differently. He likes it, and Hannibal thinks Will
looks beautiful with blood on his hands.
 Reach Inside

It is not a hunger. It is not a want or a desire, not anything but a low, hot yearning hidden
somewhere, buried beneath layers of morality. Skin and blood masking the guilt. Some go their
whole life never acknowledging it, never succumbing to it. Most do. Potential is never reached and
ignored in favor of ease and security.
The select few, who do indulge, never go back. Recovering or reforming is not an option. Once
you fall into the wade of the stream, you are either caged or kept in an entirely different prison. A
prison of smoke and mirrors and of isolation.
Notoriety only comes after death. Or after they catch whiff of the blood on your hands, the death
seeping from every pore. The murder that clings to your skin will be shown the light, moon turning
it black as void. They see that stain as an infestation of the heart or the mind. They corral and
castrate what they don't understand, rip out the beating, bleeding black heart from its rib cage.
Once it's gone, what's there to do?
 Frenzy

"I'm glad you could come see me, Will."

"I'm sorry I've missed my past few appointments." Despite the apology, it was clear sincerity was
void in Will's words. His eyes were unfocused, flicking back and forth over his surroundings. As
always, avoiding Hannibal's gaze- ever transfixed on the man in front of him.
"It's quite alright, you have a lot on your plate."
Hannibal sees Will's lips quirk into a smile at his choice of words but it is gone as soon as it came.
A flash of intimacy, a gaze through the veil of Will's feelings. Their friendliness is forever an
uncomfortable concept for Will, Hannibal understands. The man feels guilty for the part of him
that understands the killer, the same part that understands all of the killers. He feels ashamed of
every dark part of his nature despite the fact that shadows bleed from his veins. He doesn't realize
that there isn't a part of him that has been charred with darkness; that it was merely the entirety of
his soul leaking tar from the fake layers from trying to see the light.
"You could say that," Will laughed dryly, warmth in his eyes. There were fires behind the icy blue
eyes, fires burning cities in their paths. Hannibal could loose himself in flames and the blood stains
trailing Will's steps.
"How's your latest case?"
"I don't know what to think. Randall is..." Will sighed. Tier's kills bled wolves, teeth clawing at the
back of Will's eyelids. Gnawing and gnashing it's fangs into pale flesh. "I don't know what he is.
His kills were rabid and frenzied but untouched with sexual drive. They were primal and he is
absolved with the beast he believes himself to be. I can't get him out of my head."
Hannibal let that sit for a second. Analyzed the way Will's hands shook and his frantic gaze
flickering everywhere but Hannibal's eyes. "You can't get him out of your head because you can
understand him too well, because you were the one to absorb the power of his kills. You finished
the Randall Tier story by giving him what he always wanted. By solidifying his delusion, you lost
yourself to it."
"So do you believe that I am...becoming him?" Will felt the room spinning and he felt that he could
smell the stench of rot coming off Randall, smell the lavender soap from his bathroom after
washing his hands over and over, trying to relieve the stain of death on them.
"I believe you are becoming yourself. And, by that, the part of you that understood him- that
transformed him."
"You did too." Though Will snapped Randall's neck, felt he bones crack beneath his hands, he
dropped it on Hannibal's door like a pet bringing its owner a kill. Hannibal taunted the dark parts
within Will to fall helplessly into the mind of a beast. To let himself run naked in the pitch of night,
to punch the trees with every wave of desire to kill. His head clouded in sounds of howling wolves
and deep growls. Vision red and heart beating rapid with adrenaline. Old scars from antlers
resurfacing to line his spine.
"We are alike, Will. We share the death of many. We understand in each other what we lack in
ourselves."
"What do you lack, Dr.Lecter?"
"What do you?"
Will smiled nervously, "I don't know."
"Well what did Tier have? What did he lack?"
"He had instinct...and trust in it. He didn't have the appearance of what he truly was. That was what
I gave him." Tears were dotting in the frosted blue of Will's eyes.
"And that was what he gave you-you killed him with your hands, you bathed in his blood. You
became not just the monster he was disguised in, but the monster you try to hide within yourself."
"What are you saying, Dr.Lecter?" Venom dripped from his words as he himself gnashed his teeth
at Hannibal. Hurt and guilt was flushed in his cheeks.
"Nothing you should take as an attack, Will."
"I should go."
"I apologize if I imposed."
"Don't you always?"
Hannibal sadly smiled. "I enjoy picking your brain far too much for my own good. Sometimes I
fear I get ahead of myself."
Will sighed, "I'll see you Thursday. Goodbye, Hannibal." He left quickly and nearly ran back to his
car, all too ready to drive back to Virginia and drink away the desire Hannibal lit in him.
 we come home

The fireplace is a beating heart in Will's house. Warm orange glow burns on his face as he pets his
newest stray behind the ears. His mind lost in the flames as he hears Hannibal's words echo in his
ears. Will's thoughts solely on what Hannibal was saying when he said "monster you try to hide"?
Was he saying that Will was a monster, or that he was becoming one. Or that some how Will was
merging with the beast. Loosing his humanity, his morality and fading into feral impulse. Running
of adrenaline and bloodlust. Feeding on Hannibal's eyes on him as he killed-He snapped his head,
heart dropping and chugging the rest of his glass of whiskey. He needed to stop thinking like this.
He needed to stop letting Hannibal stain his thoughts, Will needed to carve Hannibal out of his
dreams.
Even if he could, he wasn't sure he wanted to. All Will was without Hannibal was the shell of a
killer. An empty gun with no bullets. Ready to kill and dangerous, without ammunition to do the
deed. Hannibal was behind the trigger and he was getting dangerously close to pressing it. The
safety had been turned off the moment Will met him. It was all chance now.
Hannibal would never load the cylinder or force Will to act on his impulses. He would hand Will
the bullets and see if he'd pull the trigger himself. He wanted Will to want to kill. Why, that was,
Will was still deliberating on. Hannibal was a monster, and maybe monsters got lonely. Or maybe
this was something else entirely, a plan full of ulterior motives and lies. Will had been trying to
play Hannibal, lure him into a trap to muzzle and cage him. Hannibal was trying to sharpen Will's
teeth and break him from the bondage he's bound himself in.
The thought churned guilt in Will's stomach. Hannibal only wanted freedom for Will, only wanted
him to let go of what he feared and let himself fall into his nature-their nature. And here Will was
trying to declaw and castrate the monster Hannibal let himself be. It was cruel.
Will didn't want to be a cruel man, he wanted to be kind to Hannibal. But at what cost was his
kindness? Was it letting himself fall into Hannibal's will? Become everything Will feared his whole
life?
He shook his head and poured another glass. He fed the dogs and let them join him in his bed as he
slept that night.
His mind flooded with some odd mix between a nightmare and a wet dream. His skin was hot
throughout the night and something low in his gut was churning deliciously as he gawked at the
stag, ripping through Will's torso with the prongs of its antlers. Eating them, hooves turned to
hands, gripping tenderly at Will's hips, its snout turned to a mouth and Will watched in awe as
Hannibal ate Will's insides, looking up at him like he was a god.
In heavenly fires, demons with faces aflame haunt the corners of his bedroom as he lays in half
conscious paralysis for hours.
He knows he'a been losing his mind for years but it's getting worse. Hannibal got off on every
new symptom he scribbled down on Will's file. From dissociation and intimacy issues to full
psychotic breaks and seizures, Will Graham was a mess of mental illness. No medications seemed
to work, everything Hannibal prescribed seemed to send him further into the pit of his mind.
Therapy was making him backpedal in mental stability but it made Jack feel better about Will
working. Will liked working because he liked helping people, even if it meant he would be rid of a
good nights sleep or a decent meal. It also meant that he had to get out of his house, which he
despised.
When he woke that morning, cursed with morning wood and a pounding headache, he prayed for
the first time in years. As he let the ice cold shower water rain over him, he begged the god he
never believed in to rid him of sin. But he knew it was impossible. Will's immortal soul was as
bloody and dark as the monsters he condemned. The monsters were his brothers, and the beast his
bride.
 carnage

Hannibal was well aware his fascination with Will Graham would be his demise. He had always
prided himself on his commitment to self preservation but Will had stripped him of that. He made
Hannibal weak, made him stick his neck where it did not belong, risking his own capture along
with many other things. He was too far gone now, Will Graham would live in his heart until the
day Hannibal died. His life has filled Hannibal's empty hope with the desire for the mind of his one
true match; or rival however it may end. Either way, Will would either fill a void in Hannibal or
make the emptiness a thousand times more painful should they be separated, should this all not end
in Hannibal's favor.
Acknowledging that, Hannibal is petrified. To save Will he'd do most anything, including giving
up everything he's become. But what Hannibal truly yearns for, is Will's true becoming. His
transformation into that dog-toothed vigilante he sees in mirrors during his dreams. The beast that
is hungry for warm, righteous blood. Hannibal spends too much time thinking about it, the way
that dark wine looks splattered over his pale skin. The way his ocean eyes go dark when his brain
enters another's, where he is the puppeteer of serial murders. Of Hannibal's murders, for the record.
Oh and that thought sends shivers down his spine. Will has been so intimate with Hannibal's work,
it was evident his intelligence couldn't be deluded by Hannibal's expert manipulation. How
beautiful, how unique Will Graham's mind. The overflowing empathy but the aversion to
emotional intimacy. He was the opposite to Hannibal entirely, but they were alike in one dangerous
way. They had hearts and minds plagued in the same darkness; sickness from seeing rotting bodies,
dreaming of the morose, believing themselves to be damned.
Hannibal shook his head, pouring a glass of red wine for himself and bringing it out to his balcony
to be accompanied with a smoke. His heightened senses rarely allowed him to indulge in cigarettes,
but one of his finest cigars was nothing but a delight to his trained nose. It also calmed his nerves
about he and Will's session.
Hannibal had a horrible fear that the younger man would drop therapy, that Hannibal would have
to go to much more extreme efforts to dig into the pits of Will's mind. That would be a shame,
Hannibal quite liked being given broken pieces and trying to put them back together. Each
conversation with will was a bloody, battered puzzle piece. This was the most fun Hannibal has
had in years.
After finishing off the wine, he took a shower and hoped the hot water would clean his skin of
the itch Will left behind on him. The insufferable sweet ache of unknowing.
-
Will was hungry but could not eat. He was dehydrated but water seemed to hold some type of fire
within. Mortal need, sleeping, eating, anything, seemed fruitless. His mind took hold of everything,
leaving him scrawny and dizzy with thoughts of blood. The impeding force of Hannibal Lecter
skewed life itself. Will belonged to him now. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, no matter
how many times he tried to think his way out of the psychological playground his own brain had
become, Hannibal would never leave him. He was stained with an uncomfortable, carnage filled
love affair that could only end in death.
When he woke, a pounding headache from the horribly predictable hangover had taken over
those dark thoughts. He drug that starving corpse to the medicine cabinet, filling his empty
stomach with aspirin and coffee.
The day was dull, he had a cigarette while tossing toys to his dogs in the lawn, took five
showers in some feeble attempt to wash that stain away.
The water was hot on his skin and he felt antlers hanging over his head and that black figure
stood so close to him in the tub he felt like he would be impaled on the prongs. His hands seemed
to creep downward. There was nothing but shame in his heart as he jacked off, looking into those
cataract eyes of the demon he knew Hannibal to be. Into the eyes of the Chesapeake ripper. He
didn't know why, but he came in seconds as he thought of Hannibal's soft but strong hands on his
skin. He heaved an empty stomach onto the linoleum tub, in shame or sickness he was not sure.
The nausea followed him throughout the morning and into the halls of the FBI. It kept his eyes
lidded and his mind in that dark steam.
As Jack and Beverly discussed the mutilations of Randall Tier, and Will remembered the feeling of
skin stretching beneath his gloved fingertips, Hannibal's dark eyes watching him, leering over him
with dark prongs and hunger.
Was his empathy expanding as far as putting himself in the crossfire of the Chesapeake
Ripper? Or more accurately, under his scalpel and dark gaze. His imagination seemed especially
vivid since he had seen the black figure of the horned man in place
of Randall. Since he beat the beast to death with his hands.
Will stumbled into the bathroom, sweaty and disoriented as he let the cold water from the
faucet drain over his head. He couldn't stop the burning sensation under his skin, the guilt. He ran
to the stalls and heaved up the breakfast he didn't had.
As his headache spiraled into a migraine, he heard heavy footsteps on the linoleum floors. The
steps faded until a deep voice called out his name. "Will?"
Jack pushed the door open to find Will curled by the toilet, eyes squeezed shut like a child trying to
wake up from a nightmare. He knelt down, "Will are you okay?"
Will forced his eyes open and the fluorescents were so bright his head wouldn't let up, he nodded
regardless. "I'm okay just...got sick." Will didn't bother to attempt to sound believable, he just
forced himself to his feet and flushed.
"You should go home."
"Is everything alright?" Will's blood froze as another voice joined the choir of ringing in his ears.
But this one seemed to deafen all the other sounds.
"Dr.Lecter, why yes I'm all good here but Graham is feeling under the weather so I think he
deserves a day off." Jack smiled and Will still couldn't believe the head of the unit did not see one
strange thing about Hannibal.
"Will, if you're ill he shouldn't be driving." Hannibal played the concerned colleague, empathetic
psychiatrist, trusted friend, all too well. "Why don't you let me drive you? I was just on my way
out, it would be no trouble at all."
Of course it wouldn't.
 heavy on the comedown

Will's migraine had faded a little after popping a few too many of his pain medication. He had his
head pressed against the window in a feeble attempt to cool himself down. Watching the city fade
around him, blending slowly into the familiar natures of rural Virginia, Will felt the pressure on his
ribs let up a bit. He'd been completely useless for the few hours he attempted to work today.
Imagining Randall Tier's killer, knowing he was writing a profile for himself, felt so disgusting. It
felt like the ink of his pen was cutting into the paper and opening red bloody wounds.
"Is hard for you?" Hannibal had asked, never taking his eyes off the long unpaved road ahead.
"Is what hard for me?" Will said, tongue and cheek, knowing damn well what his psychiatrist
was asking.
"Will, you know you can always be a hundred percent honest with me. It could not have been
easy creating a profile for Randall's killer."
"I didn't write about myself." He hadn't. In fact minutes before he threw up chyme into the
men's restroom of the FBI headquarters, Will had alluded to the possibility of a copycat Ripper.
"What did you write?"
"That someone could be mimicking the Ripper, that it would be a young person with no
connection to him. They'd be an obsessed fan who'd want to emulate the things he'd done."
"Is that why you did it?"
Will felt himself blush, craning his neck even further from Hannibal who was now turned to
look at him with those eyes black as pitch. And they even looked red now, in the low orange
sunlight. Will couldn't help but actually look, no thoughts of broken blood vessels or white irises
because he saw through Hannibal's eyes. "I killed you, through him. But yes, the presentation was
an emulation of your kills." Will broke the stare down, moving his focus to the blur of passing
farmland. "I did it to feel closer to you," He said quietly, like a confession.
Will could see Hannibal's feral grin in his peripheral vision and he'd be lying if he said it didn't
make him grin a bit. Will hadn't lied to Hannibal, he wanted desperately to understand just why
Hannibal found such pleasure in the most grotesque of things, beauty in the ugliest. He saw it now
because those very things attracted Will like a moth to a flame. Hannibal was a ember of sin and
Will as a timid moth couldn't help but let himself burst in the heat. The smell of scorched skin as
wings painted the black forest night in smears of light. Then, nothing but ash remained of the two.
Will knew, somewhere in the collective unconscious of all things, he and Hannibal wouldn't
live without each other and not in the way you'd think. They can't live with or without each other,
constantly at each other's throats yet gazing deep into the other's mind and feeling hungry.
"Do you? Feel closer to me, Will?" Hannibal's voice was even deeper it seemed. His eyes void
of all color and detail as the sun settled behind the trees as if cowering in fear.
Did he? Had he objectively masturbated while staring into his brain's personal interpretation of
the true Hannibal Lecter. The 'man', more beast. The master manipulator, intelligent psychopath
who loved music and art. Who had been the only one to deceive the head of the FBI behavioral
unit? Who Will had let peer into the pits of his soul he hid from everyone. Hannibal was brilliant
and if Will was truly honest, and allowed himself to stray from his thorough profile of how
Hannibal Lecter might be the most fearsome serial killers the world had ever known. The cannibal
chef who daylights as a psychiatrist.
Will forced himself to refocus with his headache now back in full force. He did feel closer than
ever, it was undeniable. But was that something he wanted to admit, was it something good? "Y-
yeah, I do."
Hannibal hummed in some sort of nonverbal agreement and pulled onto Will's road. "Will,
what's changed? Since the last time we saw each other." Hannibal was investigating now. Will's
sudden emotional declaration was a perfect time to make sure the younger man wasn't playing with
him. Though Hannibal loved their cat and mouse, he was trying to see if that fanged mongoose
was still hungry. What did it want with a snake?
"I uh..." Will turned bright red, thanking the god he gave up on for the dark blanket of night. "I
had a dream. It confused me but I think I understand it now."
"Glad to hear it, and I hope you feel better. I expect you at your next appointment." Hannibal
let his hand fall on Will's shoulder, squeezing it lightly as if examining it. His eyes locked on Will,
waiting for a sign of how Will truly felt. He'd get nothing clear because Will himself was unclear
of what exactly was happening. Until an involuntary noise escaped his lips when Hannibal's head
brushed over the back of his head. "Goodnight, Will."
The ghost of his body muttered a pathetic goodbye as he nearly ran back inside, met with a
dozen dogs yapping excitedly. He fed them and let them out, imagining them running on tops of
waves of black seas.
His heart felt heavy in his chest as he dragged himself up the stairs. He cringed at the sight of
his shower, the dried vomit on the floor. He flopped into bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling the
handle of whiskey out of his bedside table; it's home since being released.
He chugged himself into an early bedtime. His mind overflowing with the memory of
Hannibal's hand on the back of his neck, the way he tugged accidentally on one of Will's curls. He
wouldn't let himself even tug his jeans off because he tried as his hands felt like someone else's as
he undid his belt.
His dreams were full of bear teeth and the crashing of a coastline. He remembered lips, blood,
and the sound of screaming.
Will woke in a cold sweat with the smell of Hannibal's cologne wrapping him. He realized he
was still dawning the jacket Hannibal leant him on the way to the car through the rain that
followed them the first twenty minutes of their drive.
Will was sick again, the whisky tasted worse the second time. He called out of work and vowed
to spend the day washing Hannibal's scent off his skin and the vomit off his shower floor. He still
wasn't hungry but when he heard a knock on his door, his stomach grumbled at the sight of Alana
walking in with a basket of muffins, saying nothing and giving him one.
She sat across from him on the couch and ate a blueberry muffin. She always had this look in
her eyes, neon pools of blue stared at him accusingly. Like she was solving a puzzle before she
spoke. "How are you feeling?"
Will laughed honestly at that, taking a bite of one of the muffins and feeling his stomach growl.
"Great."
Alana looked at him, those oceans squinting at him. "When was the last time you ate? Or slept,
or took care of yourself in general?" Alana put down her muffin and sighed. "Will, you look like
shit."
"I know...I've just been sick." Will's stomach was a mess and he tossed it. "Nauseous, dizzy,
with a killer migraine on top of it all."
Alana rubbed her temples. "Is that all? You've seemed so different since-"
"I am different." He cut her off, "I don't know why but I am...and I feel like shit."
"Will, you should really see a doctor."
"Isn't that why you're here?" Will didn't mean to sound hostile, he cared for Alana and she was
always honest with him. He couldn't help him, he was so irritated with everyone. He's been on
edge since Hannibal drove him home and his mind was far from the halls of the academy.
Alana shook her head, "Don't push me away. I'm here because I care about you. Jack said he
was concerned."
"Of course he did." Will was biting the inside of his cheek, thinking of how Jack and the rest of
the unit sat around discussing Will. Everyone was talking and he was deaf to them at this point but
those moments of realization still made him itch.
"Will, you're being defensive. Does this have something to do with you and Hannibal's little drive
back here?" She stood up, buttoning her jacket up. "Whatever it is, Will, I won't force you to talk.
I'm your friend... but i won't force you to be mine." She got her purse off the floor and pulled a few
bones and dog toys out for Winston and the others.
"Alana, I'm sorry. I just can't...not now." He ducked away from her, stumbling backwards into the
wall. His head was spinning and he forced a normal goodbye before nearly slamming the door
behind her. He immediately ran to the bathroom where he heaved up half a chocolate chip muffin.
He didn't remember falling asleep that night. Probably because he didn't feel like he ever fell
asleep. He was just suddenly in Hannibal's office.
He felt better, objectively. His headache was gone and he didn't feel freezing or burning up. His
nausea was still there but dulled. He pried his eyes open and found them fixed on Hannibal's dark
eyes. It felt like a warm evening and Will didn't really feel scared. That's what terrified him.
 reckoning

"How are you feeling Will? You look like you just went somewhere." Hannibal's voice was gritty
and his lips were curled at the ends. He had a feline darkness that clung to him, hooked claws and
eyes that looked at Will like a bird with a broken wing.
"I-How did I get here?"
"You drove here."
Will sighed and rubbed his head. "I need to go."
"Will, you've only just gotten here. We need to speak, you can't avoid me forever."
"Trust me, I know." Will laughed a bit, taking a second to breathe.
"Are you feeling better since you fell ill?"
"Actually, I am. The last I remember I felt like I was dying...not to be dramatic."
Hannibal smiled. Predatory. "How are you feeling in your heart? Are you still conflicted with
your guilt?"
"About Randall? No...I think I'm happy. He was beautiful, Hannibal. The fangs, the claws,
everything was so beautiful. He was who he always had been." Will began tearing up, he tried to
hide it but he instinctively wiped his eyes dry and Hannibal sunk his teeth in at the first sign of
weakness.
"Do you envy him, Will?"
"I envy that he always knew the beast he was. I know there's a beast, but I have no name to call
it by."
Hannibal seemed to savor the way those words rolled off Will's tongue. "If you were a beast,
Will, what would you be?"
"The cowardly lion, probably."
"William, you are anything but cowardly. You are docile but when you are cornered," Hannibal
stood up, prowling towards him. "You have an intensity, a blood thirst. I'd say today you are a
mongoose but what could you be tomorrow?"
William froze, locking eyes with the man in front of him. Hannibal stood in the center of his
office, the light from the window behind him burning around his silhouette like a flaming
seraphim. Will gawked at the shadow of his figure as it grew above him into magnificent antlers.
"I think, William you could be a predator unlike any other. The heart of a loyal wolf, ferocity of
a lion, stubbornness of a bull...but none of those beasts desire what you do."
A cloud covered the sun, and Hannibal's features refocused and Will felt himself flush, face hot
as he tried to hide his embarrassment. "W-What do you think I desire?"
Hannibal did not miss the way Will's eyes flicked to look down at Hannibal's lips before biting
his own. Hiding his gaze from the doctor. Will was an isolated man, he was starved in every sense
of the word. Starved for peace, love, touch, self esteem. He had none of them but he lived like he
couldn't be bothered to care about the basics of comfortability. Beyond that, the darkness around
him keeps anyone trying to feed the stray dog from getting too close. If cornered, he bites. But even
a feral mutt can become a lapdog if trained. However, Will is no lapdog. Hannibal imagines
keeping him muzzled and chained, an attack dog loyal to him and only him. The idea that the dog
desires the beast holding the leash, sent chills down his spine but Hannibal continued as if Will's
reaction hadn't shocked him,"I think you desire reckoning, your own evolution, chaos...perhaps
even love."
Will choked quietly, stuttering before asking, "What beast wants to be loved?"
"All of them, including the most horrifying of them all."
"People."
"Exactly." Hannibal smiled. "You are the most human of predators, the most righteous...the
people you've killed have all been the real beasts."
Will stopped for a second. Contemplating the men he's killed, the sons he's taken, the father. The
guilt nearly buried him alive, but he never expected the elation once it had faded. The power, holy
rage, the dark beauty. The black stag's neck snapping between his hands in pure ecstasy. "I tried to
kill you."
Hannibal hadn't felt anything but proud of Will when he learned the truth; That Will was the
guiding hand to his attempted assassination. Hannibal had always known that eventually Will's
morals would begin to gray if his reality was no longer black and white either. If he cornered the
feral dog, it would bite- but if he cornered Will, empathetic, socially awkward teacher, he would
snap. And, not just bite- he'd kill. Hannibal wanted him to enjoy it. He wanted the beast in him
hungry no longer. "Yes. And you killed me through Randall. Killed Hobbs because you thought
him a monster, as well as the rest."
"When is a monster not a monster, Dr. Lecter?"
Hannibal was now hovering over him, Will stood up. He knew what power meant, he knew he
had it and he wouldn't let Hannibal make him feel small. Hannibal was taller than him still but Will
met his eyes directly. Peering into those black irises raised the hairs on the back of his neck but he
didn't hesitate.
Cutting him off before he could open his mouth Hannibal answered, "When you love it."
 sweet tooth

Will had made himself sick for days on horror. The man he knew to be a butcher of dozens, was in
his wet dreams. The Ripper who framed him was inches away and Will wanted him closer. He
knew, he had always known, that he couldn't be without Hannibal. Not since he dug his prongs
into Will's mind and rewired his reality. He couldn't live with him, the beast he tried to trap and
shoot. But that was different when Will's tongue knew the taste of righteous blood. It was sweet
and metallic and Hannibal savored all delicious delicacies. Will had no reign to his empathy and
apparently, neither did Hannibal's seduction. He wanted Will, for what reason- attack dog,
experiment, get out of jail free card- but now they both wanted much more. They were far too
hungry for any good.
Their session ended at noon. It was 11:58, Baltimore, Maryland, his name was Will Graham.
He was inches from Hannibal's face, cheeks bright as a cherry and his legs wobbly under
Hannibal's intense gaze. Will swallowed, "Yes. Even the most gruesome serial killers had
dedicated families, friends...lovers."
"What about two monsters?" Hannibal couldn't quite help himself now, he could smell the
confusion-and the arousal- wafting off Will's skin. Imagining the two of them in a life of sins and
delicious pleasure, that was something Hannibal found incredibly arousing himself. He would find
if so easy to wisp will away to Italy and allow him all the things he's never had. The art, the music,
the food. The freedom.
"Bonnie and Clyde were monsters in love," Will said softly, "but a monstrous love only ends one
way."
"In death."
Will was breathing heavily now, unable to distract himself from Hannibal's lips, the way he was
looking at Will like he looked at a beautifully crafted dinner table.
Hannibal's intuition was never wrong, he trusted his gut over anything else. When he grabbed
Will's hair, hearing the beautiful whimper he let out fueled his confidence in his instincts. Their
lips met with aggression, Will immediately buckling beneath him before Hannibal grabbed his hips
and help him in place beneath him.
Will felt like his skin was on fire. Hannibal's cool hands like ice on the exposed strip of skin at his
hip, he wanted to melt. He kissed back vigorously, angrily, his eyes shut allowing him to see the
beast in front of him but the stir of heat in his stomach wanting him so desperately. He felt
ashamed but couldn't help it, Hannibal's teeth nipped slightly and he let out a soft moan. Hannibal
pulled away and Will felt like he'd been washed adrift by a current. Floating in empty waters, head
spinning and legs numb.
When Hannibal strengthened his grip, he watched for Will's reaction. The heavy pressure made
him shiver and lean into the touch, Hannibal couldn't help but smile.
"What are you staring at?" Will said in a slight slur, a smile playing on the corner of his lips.
"William," Hannibal brought a hand to his dark curls , pressing a kiss to the younger man's neck.
"How could I not stare at such a beautiful monster?"
His lips met Will's again and he was starting to feel drunk. He'd never felt like this before,
Hannibal's hands felt like the many hands of Shivu the destroyer, everywhere at once and pulling
Will into the world in which he was God. Will wanted to shock the man who seemed to never be
surprised, Will brought his teeth down hard on Hannibal's lip. Sinking into the skin and pulling,
drawing globs of hot blood onto Will's tongue.
Hannibal felt a moan be punched out of him, the pain exquisite. The feeling of Will's teeth, his
rage, sent shockwaves through his empty bones. He needed to taste Will, he'd been starving for
him for so long. Only getting whiffs of his sickening sweetness. He flipped them around and
pressed Will against the wall, bringing his mouth to the younger man's neck.
"Hann-"
Before he could say anything, Hannibal's canines were deep in the soft flesh at the crook of his
neck, boiling the heat inside him. He felt warm blood dripping down into his chest and as he tried
to pull those lips back onto his, he felt the weight of Hannibal's hands on his wrists fade.
"It'll scar," Will whispered into what felt like an empty room.
"Good. You're mine now, Will."
Will growled, peeling himself off the wall before grabbing Hannibal by the neck, biting his bottom
lip and ripping a chunk of flesh out. Will's mark on him where he could never hide it. "Now you're
mine."
Hannibal smiled with black and red teeth, holding his swollen lip with equally bloody fingers.
"Now I'm yours."

----

When Will got home, He felt deviant, a heathen of morality, but this sin was too sweet. Hannibal
tasted like cherry wine and old cigars, his voice in Will's head made it spin like syrupy heroin. His
kisses have Will a sugar rush and he was shaking for more. He never had much of a sweet tooth
until now.
He felt indulgent, like he was allowing himself to break from his scheduled self destruction. He
dug around his bedside table until he found an old pack of Marlboro reds, a few poorly wrapped
joins nestled among the cigarettes. He grabbed one of each and walked out onto his porch,
watching the sun set across forests and fields as he burnt through the joint, feeling lighter and
darker.
He'd felt deprived, starved, so close to the death he felt he'd crossed over while still inhabiting a
mortal body. He had to prove his life now, had to give himself what he wanted regardless of what
he wished he could be. He'd never be the man he used to be, if he ever was.
No, he was Hannibal's now. The tug of war between their power ended at a bloody, sweet
stalemate.
 hedonism

Allowing Hannibal's vision to come to fruition, killed the harmless persona of Will Graham. He
was not turned cruel, or unnecessarily violent, but it transformed his rage into art. His need to
protect good people stayed through it all. But, his fear, oh the fear, began to manifest into horrors
of his own making.
His dogs didn't seem to recognize him anymore, growling when he entered hand in hand with
Hannibal. Their teeth bared and growling lowkey because the man covered in blood and smiling at
the demon he feared most, could not be the Will they loved.
He could not be the same Will who cared for them and took them in, dry humping a serial
killer in their living room. Smelling of dried blood and the expensive cologne Hannibal bought
him- his usual musk and Marlboro replaced with red wine and cuban cigars.
Eventually, though, with dozens of sausage, made of god knows what, they warmed up to him.
They got used to the two of them crashing into the house, they stopped barking when Hannibal
would slam Will against the flimsy door and tear their blood soaked clothes off in a frenzy.
Will loved it, he felt more intimate with Hannibal then ever. Seeing the man who seemed so
empty react with such intense emotion. Hannibal losing control made Will breathless. His eyes
sunk dark like they did when he killed, his lips would smile softly, in a toothy smirk. Always
covered in blood or cum, Will was getting addicted.
It had happened before. Josh, his roommate in senior year, was the first. Will had practically
worshiped the ground he walked on. Then he came home early from a trip and found him fucking
Will's best friend, Laura.
His intimacy issues had a tendency to either mean he has no feelings at all or he was completely
obsessed. Josh was one of roughly five people in his life Will had become uncomfortably and
unhealthily attached to. He didn't bring it up to Hannibal. Textbook Daddy (and Mommy) issues
were a little boring for Hannibal Lecter's specific brand of psychology.
From a distant, alcoholic, abusive father to a mom who Will only remembered as a sleeping mass
in the dark bedroom at the end of the hallway, there was too much to even begin. Too many
skipped lunches, too little touches- too rough touches. As a child he was all stutters, southern
twang, and subtle flinches whenever anyone got too close.
Regardless, Will Graham had been obsessed with Hannibal far too long for his own good. Now that
obsession had turned, well, intimate. This was new territory for the both of them, isolated predators
but so different from one another. The line between hate and love, fear and lust, it was intoxicating
and Will found that Hannibal's teeth gnawing a scar into his neck would get him higher than any
drug. But so was waking up to him making coffee, fucking slowly in the shower so sweet it made
Will sick. Hannibal was softer than he'd ever imagined. He still had those eyes though, he felt like
he was being lured by a perfect display of a boyfriend but there was still that- empty. Will wanted
to break it open, he got close the first time he sunk his teeth into Hannibal's lip: the shock.
Hannibal anticipated everything. Will became completely fixated on shocking Hannibal, first it
was red panties, then the plug, then the handcuffs...
Work was difficult.
Hannibal still stared at him with such heat, Will fought not to blush whenever they had to be in
a room with anyone else. His knowing smirk constantly sending Will into a haze of fire. Not to
mention being out in the field together came with well... unforeseen consequences.
Hannibal had never pegged Will as the jealous type, nor did Will with he. But they now had
became very acutely aware of every brief flirtation both men received from a slew of grieving
neighbors and curious journalists. The first time a concerned parent made a move on Hannibal
though, you'd have thought Will was a height trained attack dog.
Hannibal found his obsession there. Possessiveness comes with the insecurity of love Will had
when he was young. Jealousy is ugly on the masses but green does nothing but bring out the ocean
blue of William's eyes, complements so beautifully against all blood reds. Will's teeth sharpened as
his wit spat like fire in the face of Bryanna...Diana maybe, Hannibal couldn't possibly have
bothered to remember her name. All he saw when he looked back was Will's eyebrows furrowed,
all he heard was the low growl in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we are working
right now. I doubt Doctor Lecter spends his days pining for PTA pussy when he could get anyone
he wanted. Thanks."
It was crude, offensive even. Everything Hannibal thought disgusting. It was awe inspiring. "No
need to be so rude." Hannibal couldn't not smile when he saw the way Will's pupils were wide, his
fists clenched, biting on his tongue to hold its silver in place. "I am very much yours, William."
Will turned to him, "And?" His eyes were still wide with heat, shaking underneath all of the layers
hanging off his bony frame.
"You're mine. You know that, my dear boy." Hannibal fought every urge to lunge at the
bloodthirsty minx in front of him. But Jack was a few yards behind them, crowded by Beverly and
the rest of the forensics team. Alana was trying to keep prying reporters behind the crime scene
tape, local law enforcement holding crowds of people back from the scene left for the public.
He and Will were anything but public. The glimpses of Will's jealousy are the only indication that
could get them caught...that and the way Hannibal stared at him like he wanted to devour him right
there in front of news station cameras and flashing police lights.
Neither of them were much for PDA but the secret touches, the breathy whispers, the scorching
staring matches. They were heavenly, they were damned and sacrilegious. Will felt like he'd been
shacking up with the devil in a priest's confession booth. Like he was laughing in the face of God;
of Jack. With Lucifer sucking on his neck, Will felt the fragile scale of his morality crash into fire
and brimstone.
With their new dance, their evolved ballet around each other's darkest parts, Hannibal found it hard
for once in his life to keep his feelings, his urges, deprived. To numb the way he wanted to rip
Will's lips up until they ripped whenever he tried to speak, to show both of their scars with pride.
He found a delicious pain in being the dirty little secret Will Graham came home to. He loved
tearing the white feathers off of Will's angel wings, replacing each with a stunning piece of gore.
 red pine

The stream of their consciousness began to rush in red waves not long after Will and Hannibal
began sharing sweaters and bite marks. They wanted to get away. Just for a weekend. Will's stress
levels were off the chart, their relationship along with everything else he had to lie about had him
constantly on edge. Even when he was with Hannibal there was still that...flinch. Like a stray dog,
ducking his head and baring his teeth. Whimpering and burying his head in Hannibal's lap.
"What about Paris?" Hannibal had asked, early in the morning on the couch in Will's living
room. The floor was littered with sleeping dogs, Will curled on top of him and Winston at his feet.
Will opened his eyes, looking up at Hannibal. "That's far...and a little pretentious don't you
think?" He nestled his head against Hannibal's thighs, he hated how safe he felt, how warm the
fireplace in his heart felt. How that orange glow of whiskey seemed to bleed through the sunrise as
it painted Hannibal and their home in peach and honey.
"One of the oldest cities in the world, but sure." Hannibal began playing with Will's dark curls
where they fell onto Hannibal's pajama pants. They were soft from the new shampoo he'd brought
last week after Will apologized for his greasy mop. He was so simple, so damned humble it made
Hannibal rethink his own proclivities. He would always appreciate the finer things but the beauty
of Will Graham's content minimalism (even if depressing and unhygienic at times) amazed him.
He smelled like evergreen and hard whiskey, he tasted like raspberries and Hannibal felt the
darkness in his empty chest begin to crumble. He felt like every kiss, every morning spent like this,
was chipping away at the monster. The true wonder was seeing the opposite happen to Will. He
was happier, yes, but he was becoming the monster he starved. After a moment of letting Will
preen at Hannibal's playing with his hair, he asked, "What about Scotland?"
Will hummed, still in a haze of endorphins from the delicious feeling of Hannibal's calloused
fingers running through his hair. "S'pretty," he mumbled, falling back asleep.
"Scotland it is, then." Hannibal smiled to himself, watching Will doze off in his lap, wearing
one of Hannibal's only sweatshirts. The beast inside him was beginning to crave not just blood but
sugar.
-----
Will had always felt like an old forgotten land mine. Laying with the safety off in the woods of
Wolf Trap where no one would ever set it off. But in Baltimore, in the FBI, in the heads of killers,
he was always seconds from blowing. Never did he think it would be something methodical and
manipulative. Something that made Will want to step on himself. Made the ground cave in around
him on purpose, reveling in the spray of body and blood around him as anyone near him was torn
apart.
Hannibal made no sense, he was unpredictable. Will's empathy, his anxiety, all of it made him
so paranoid he felt like he predicted everything- every word, every movement- another person did.
Hannibal was never like that cause he wasn't a person. Will was beginning to think Hannibal may
have a heart though, think that there was something soft inside the Chesapeake Ripper.
He was even finding just how easy it was to let himself be Hannibal's. How safe he felt, how
much he craved Hannibal's touch, how his morning voice was raspy and his hair fell over his face
when it wasn't gelled and styled. Sometimes when Will closed his eyes at night, on the off days he
wasn't with Hannibal, and he could feel the darkness leaking through the cracks in the wall he was
building around reality. Losing himself in the feeling of Hannibal fucking him, teasing him,
cooking for him, bribing his dogs with treats. But alone, laying on his bed without the heat of
another body to distract him, his head would implode. Memories of crime scenes, of crying parents
and screaming children, flood his brain. The antlers grow on the image of him in Will's mind, he
sobs into his pillow.
He hates himself for it, he calls Hannibal that night. He had a fancy art exhibit in Fells Point,
something they couldn't attend together (not that Will was much for high end art). He was probably
on his way home. They were leaving for Scotland tomorrow afternoon, using a friend of Hannibal's
private jet to avoid their names being listed together on a international flight. He needed to pack,
they both did and they were each other's worst distractions.
Will needed the distraction, he also needed a fix. That fix was a joint he rolled after he got out
of the shower and Hannibal Lecter's teeth on his neck. He lit the joint and walked outside, trying to
ease his nerves as he listened to the dial tone.
"Will?" Finally. "Is everything alright?"
He sounded a little out of breath, for once caught off guard a bit. Will sighed, blowing smoke
out of his mouth as he spoke "I-Can you come over?" God, he hated how needy he sounded.
"I'm unfortunately still at the exhibit. I won't make it home until around midnight, it'd be
another two hours to you." He sounded distracted.
"Can I meet you there?"
Hannibal hesitated, "How about I leave the exhibit early, I'll run home and grab my things
first."
Will nodded, taking another hit. "Okay uh...see you soon?"
"Of course. Goodbye, Will."
He hung up abruptly. Will felt emptiness clinging to his lungs like tar. He leaned against one
of the beams on his porch, thinking of nothing but Hannibal's rushed goodbye. Finishing the joint,
he flicks the roach into the lawn. He wants to stand there, staring down his driveway until he sees
headlights and antlers.
He forces himself inside, pours two fingers of whiskey and sits on the couch, eyes fixed on the
window. He feels dizzy and warm, glass empty and eyes glassy. The buzz and high combine
beautifully and he feels his fears dripping away.
After an hour and a little too much whiskey, Will only feels the thumping anticipation, the itching
of excitement for his beast to walk in the door. He had caught and leashed the most illusive
predator- but he'd never be able to tame it. He didn't really want to. Will was Hannibal's, but he
often forgot Hannibal was his. Lecter's distracted tone earlier was whisked away with the booze,
now Will's mind was full of skin and bitten lips, with memories of moments he'd seen the glimpse
of the domesticated monster.
That is how Hannibal found him. High, rolling his hips against his palm, face flushed and eyes
wet. "Hann-"
The man was on him in seconds. Well not quite, he prowled closer, tugging Will's hair harshly.
"Did you call me all the way over here for a fuck?"
"No but you kept me waiting." Will smiled, unable to be mad at Hannibal at all. He laughed
lightly as the older man's stoicism turned to slight annoyance as he no doubt smelled the weed and
booze on Will's tongue. "Jus' missed you." He began rubbing himself through his jeans, staring
right into Hannibal's eyes and letting out small, slurred, whimpers.
"William," Hannibal sounded tired, but he pressed their lips together softly. Sucking and
bruising the soft pink flesh. Will bit down on Hannibal's lip, taking the millisecond of shock to
deepen the kiss, pulling on Hannibal's jacket desperately. Hannibal groaned, shoving it off and
onto the coffee table.
Will tried to undo his shirt but Hannibal was bringing his hand over Will's where he was palming
himself. Adding more pressure, bringing his mouth to Will's neck, other hand tugging his curls
harshly.
"F-fuck, Hannibal!" Will yelped as Hannibal's teeth reopened the bloody bite on the crook of
his neck, that along with grinding against Hannibal's hand, had Will cumming in his jeans like a
teenager.
Hannibal wanted that. It seemed almost like a reward when he kissed the boy breathless, told
him to shower, and brought his suitcases into the bedroom. Will obeyed in submissive daze,
allowing Hannibal to undress him and leave him under the spray of the shower head.
Will was growing anxious as the hot water killed his high, clearing his head. It was only
minutes until Hannibal joined him and began gently washing Will's hair from behind. "Where'd
you go today?"
Hannibal's massaging stopped, "The exhibit."
Will sighed, trying to wash the soap out quickly before turning to face Hannibal, "And then
where?"
Hannibal smiled, sometimes he overlooked how intuitive Will truly was. "I went to an old
friend's. I got you something."
Will was immediately cautious about this old friend. Hannibal didn't have friends, not really.
Colleagues sure, acquaintances, but friends... that was a word he could use sparingly. "What do
you mean?"
"You'll see soon enough." Hannibal brought Will's hand to his lips, kissing it and lacing their
fingers together. "Let me wash your hair out then I'll make something to eat. I'm assuming because
I wasn't here cooking for you, you haven't eaten all day."
Hannibal was right, and Will's sheepish nod was followed by him giving up the reins once again.
Turning his back to the man, letting himself be washed and taken care of like he wasn't a fully
grown man who should be perfectly capable of eating and showering without the help of anyone.
Being with Hannibal made him feel like a child sometimes, but he knew Hannibal wasn't judging
him for enjoying the attention. Will had to grow up so quickly, never really being coddled or cared
for when he was young (or ever, really). Touch starved didn't even begin to cover how devoid
Will's early life had been in terms of human contact. Even knowing that, Hannibal was older than
him and sometimes Will felt like he was more of a caretaker than a partner. There was no even
split, yes, they were equals, but Hannibal was in control and Will was beginning to realize just how
much he liked it. As the shower sprayed his face, he was swaying and humming softly while
Hannibal worked the conditioner into his scalp. He moaned when Hannibal finished, tugging at
Will's wet curls to turn him around.
"What do you think about when I touch you?" Hannibal asked, running his hands down Will's
back. Grabbing his ass and pulling them together.
He gasped, the feeling of Hannibal surrounding him was too much for his already
overstimulated body. Will didn't quite know how to answer that. He didn't know anything, he had
no reason when Hannibal was touching him, pulling moans out of him with delicious agony and
painful pleasure. "I don't think."
That seemed to be the answer Hannibal wanted, "Beautiful..." he said as he pulled Will's head
back, working his kisses down the curve of his neck, "What do you imagine, then?"
"Hann-" Will couldn't respond, his face directly under the shower spray. He felt Hannibal's
tongue lap up the rush of blood coming from his neck. Now on the backs of his lids he saw
"splatters of blood, bursting suns, lungs, antlers," he whispered into the water.
Hannibal had sunk to his knees, with his hands tight on Will's hips and fingers digging harshly
into Will's ass. He looked down, no light in the other man's eyes and Will was suddenly swept
away by a gory déjà vu. That first dream, Hannibal eating Will's gut-spill, mouth suddenly painted
ruby. When Hannibal pressed kisses to his stomach, he saw bite marks and hunks of flesh and
intestines being torn off by sharpened canines.
Then, as if spoken with a mouth of blood, a black figure with horns that were pinned to Will's hips
asked, "What do you see now?"
 Harvest Moon

They left for the airport a few hours later, Will's skin still covered in goosebumps and his mind
swarming with images of a beast gnawing and kissing the bloody massacre of Will's stomach . He
flinched when Hannibal's hand slid over his thigh, turning away from the man, unable to meet
those maroon eyes. Even without eye contact, their connection was spreading. Wriggling like
spores under Will's skin, exploding in bloody fungus and stunning lichen. He began to understand
the diabetic coma of the mushroom murders. Hannibal and Will were connected organically and
without sedation. The sweet rotting, unknowing flowing slowly into the blackest of streams.
Will had grown rather comfortable in his isolation. He could barely manage looking most people in
the eye so intimacy was usually far off the table unless that table was stocked with whiskey; his
oldest flame. He learned early, with a father stained in its stench and no mom to teach him better. A
lifetime of self dependency meant Will's trust was hard to earn- impossible, even. But with
Hannibal the trust was clear; Hannibal knew his darkest self and Will knew his. Their lives were
tangled in flesh and mind.
The flight was draining, fear was deep in Will's chest burning like a forest fire. He wasn't afraid of
Hannibal, just afraid of what Will would let him do. The line between them has blurred so intensely
Will is finding their murder of morals beautiful, Hannibal's murders erotic, his cannibalism art and
lust in one.
Shame for the victims still burns, makes him feel guilt for being the one who Hannibal
treasures. The ego of being an exception to the man's ideology meant Will was special. He'd
always despised his empathy, the darkest parts of his being, his brashness. Hannibal's celebration
of that was manifesting in Will.
He was learning to empathize with the dark stag. The one he spent years running from. It was
so much more real than his old life- or more accurately his life before Hannibal. Now, after the cat
and mouse game grew too dull, they were on the same team. Birth and death blended into a tableau
of religious ranking. Two horned and hungry gods, seeking revenge on the rude and greedy. Finally
together and ready for the reckoning.
-----
Hannibal had a car pick Will up at Glasgow Airport, it was nothing flashy but it still made Will
feel out of place. The driver opened his door exposing black leather interior and a bottle of
champagne addressed to 'Mylimasis'.
Will gladly helped himself to the entire bottle while on the long drive through the Scottish
countryside. Fog was filling the hills with pink sunrises, as the sun started to peak over the tree
line. The ride was lonely without Hannibal, but his flight was scheduled with different layovers
and Will was a few hours behind him. His mindless boredom was filled with sweet booze and his
anxiety faded as the stars disappeared from the night sky. By the time he finally reached the
property, he was rosy cheeked and giggling with excitement like a damn teenager. This life was
unknown to him but it made him feel so close to his luxurious monster.
Hannibal met him at the gate and Will nearly flew into his arms once the car door was open.
His face pressed into the cold fabric of Hannibal's overcoat, clinging to the man's chest like he
wanted to drown in it. He did.
"How was your trip?" Hannibal mused, wrapping an arm around the smaller man's waist and
closing the door behind him with the other. He wiggled beneath his arms and began kissing the
exposed skin of Hannibal's neck. "I see you enjoyed your gift."
"Yes it was lovely, the flight was dull but all of this-this is too much Hannibal. I mean look at
this place..." He pulled away, spinning around to take in the sight of sun soaked green. He could
see how celtics believed in nature spirits, how they gave lives to the earth. Will saw Hannibal in
robes covered by the sacrificial blood of a white bull. Mistletoe glittering above him as gods of
waxing suns bathe him in rays of warm honey.
Blessing the soils with rich fruits and grain only to be used for appetizers and dressings for the true
spoils. The slaughtered heathens, cooked to perfection, devoured by Will and Hannibal in godlike
flavors of the first degree.
"That's a delicious idea, my dear." Hannibal was looking at him darkly. The wendigo heart that
poisoned the man was surely beating heavily, thumping against his ribcage like a vulture flapping
its wings; beak ripping its way through Hannibal's chest. Hungry and headed for Will's throat.
They made quick work of getting Will's things inside and unpacked. Will trailing behind Hannibal
at his heels.
A slip of the tongue is often embarrassing, followed by stumbling and apologizes. However when
that tongue is silver, it tastes metallic as it slips past the lips over something cold. When it's hot,
like blood in the veins of his beast, it tastes more like iron just as such.
Either way, when Will was grinding his hips against Hannibal- straddling the older man on the
couch of their rented living room- he slipped. Hannibal was devouring his neck, harsh and
territorial. Will was frantically dry humping Hannibal who was still clad in his three piece suit,
Will's dress shirt ripped open, slacks painfully tight.
"What do you need?" Hannibal growled in his ear.
"Fuck me, please," Will bit down harsh on Hannibal's neck. He wrapped his arms tightly
around his monster's neck. The older man stood up quickly, large hands spread over Will's ass; his
legs wrapped around Hannibal's waist. Clutching him like he'd die if they separate.
Then, with one tug on his hair while he was pinned to the wall, metal slipped through Will's lips.
"Daddy!"
The silver, holy grail of psychiatry and freudian complexes, was hot as it spilled out of Will's
drunken lips. He didn't stumble, just froze as Hannibal pulled away from him. Locking with his
eyes, unreadable but completely the beast now. There was no friendly psychiatrist, precise surgeon,
cultured gentlemen. No, this wasn't even the Ripper- not the intelligent psychopath. This was a
black wendigo prowling ancient forests for virgin blood, about to sink its fangs into Will's skin.
Hannibal lept forward with viper speed and the venom hit Will's tongue, teeth ripping the flesh off
his inner lip. "Say it again," the creature growled low and gravelly into Will's mouth.
"Daddy, please-" then, a beautiful power washed over Will. As Hannibal sunk his teeth and
moaned gorgeously, Will realized he could bring out the monster behind the person suit just by
saying those words. Make him lose control, tear away the layers of facade. Leash the creature by
batting his eyelashes and Will swore he could lose himself in the dark waves of Hannibal's irises.
The wendigo fucked him hard and through ripped boxers. Will's eyes leaking diamond tears. The
red dead seas of this love crashed against black coasts til evening. The sun burning the grass until
long forgotten gods emerge from the horizon alongside the bloody moon. Will realized he had
finally picked his poison- it wasn't booze, grass, or pills- it was Hannibal Lecter.
-
That night, Hannibal took Will to the coast. They ate at a quaint restaurant overlooking the
crashing sea. It was about as classy as you could get out here, for once Hannibal looked out of
place. In a pub, eating some sort of blood based dish, surrounded by dimly lit oil lamps and flannel
clad workers. Will smiled in realization that Hannibal sacrificed crystal chandeliers and Parisian
wine tasting for this, for Will.
He slid his foot between Hannibal's legs, rubbing softly against the bare skin of his ankle.
Smiling into his pint, Hannibal's eyes locked with Will's.
He was unsatisfied, hungry. Stirring under his person suit like it was itchy wool. Will thought
of all the ways they could paint the pub in red, ways to get the wendigo to flash its teeth in public.
Will knew the best way to put his monster on edge. Their waiter was young with wavy auburn
hair and pouty lips that wrapped beautifully around his thick accent. Will waved him down.
"Hi," Will dropped his voice to the gravely syrup it was only reduced to when his lover had
him pinned down. Hannibal noticed immediately, snarling like a wolf. "Could I get another pint,
love?"
The boy, probably early twenties, flushed under the sunspots on his cheeks. "Yes sir."
 Will grinned, sliding his foot back against Hannibal's calf. This game was new, he could see
his lovers eyes flick to the red gaze of a predator. The hunt was on.
 The Ritual

Will thought about killing every day. Bones, guts, and decomposition painted the backs of his eyes
like a morose mural of death. Red as a ruby and twice as rich, thicker than water but thinner than
tar. When he watched the artery of his victim split, gushing out hot blood like the river styx, Will
finally had the dark baptism of his dreams.

The young waiter had been lured to their home after his shift, the men simply left an address
between the cash folds of his tip. It was almost too easy. Will was hesitant to hurt a sweet kid but as
soon as he entered the house, without knocking, and they found him in the kitchen drinking the
rosè Hannibal had saved for him and Will, well. You can imagine how well the killer reacted to
this brazen rudeness.

Letting him drink to his hearts content, the fool had no idea what was to come when the couple
suggested a late night stroll through the forest. These giant trees with knotted tree trunks were
haunting and covered in dark green moss.

Will was anxious still, his heart rapid as the boy giggled as he trailed behind them. Completely
helpless and blissful to what horrors awaited him in these Scottish woods.

Will imagined what this land looked like hundreds of years ago and how the druids, cloaked in
robes, would sacrifice their criminals to gods who understood what he and Hannibal did; blood is
divine, and death is glory.

It was then, lost in dreams, when Will saw candle light leaking from between the tree trunks.
Hannibal somehow had prepared Will's fantasy perfectly in the few hours since he had mentioned
his druidic daydream.

They stopped in a open patch of forest, illuminated only by the pale shine of the moon and the tall
black candles that scattered the clearing. There, Hannibal had set up some boney and floral stage
for them, the new gods, to paint red. The boy was stumbling like a newborn animal at this point,
his pale face looking like lambs skin in the moonlight.

This lamb, however, was not innocent. Unaware of his surrounding completely, he was leaning all
over Hannibal, drunkenly slurring vulgar words at him. "Yar so fakken sexy," interrupted by either
burp or a bit of bile coming up his throat. He continued rambling, " I jus' can't believe this. Really
got that daddy thing going fer ya'."

That was all Will had to hear, and Hannibal too apparently, the boy was knocked to his knees
before he could finish his swooning. Hannibal slide bondage over his arms and legs, while Will
sliced his clothes off with the hunting knife Hannibal got him.

The boy was screaming, sobbing and confused. Rambling so loud it gave Will a massive headache,
at that very moment Hannibal let out a loud sigh. He pulled something shiny from his suit pocket.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you talk far too much?" And with a swift flick of his wrist he cut the
tongue from
his mouth, placing it into a bag and setting it aside calmly. Now the only sounds coming from their
sacrifice was the gurgled sound of him choking on blood.

"Let's give him what he wanted." Will said, Hannibal looked at him a little confused.

Then, Will put his lips against the boys, kissing and biting, ripping at the bloody stump that
remained. Hannibal grabbed his hair, craning his neck back. "Slowly, mylimasis. Please let me
see."

"You too," Will replied as he grossly chewed with his mouth open, letting Hannibal gawk at
the way his teeth chewed on pieces of tongue.

Hannibal obeyed, biting the boy's front lip completely off, chewing it slowly. His hollow
cheeks covered with dark ruby blood. The two beasts met over top of the screaming lamb, kissing
like they were about to get caught right there. Will wished he could tackle his lover right there,
show that trashy kid that he was nothing compared to their love. That he was an idiot to ever think
he could be good enough for Hannibal.

They broke apart finally. With Hannibal at his side, preening like a proud father, they looked up at
the moon, and the black branches cradling it. They met in one last bloody lipped kiss as they pulled
the knife across the throat of their metaphorical white bull.

Now, Hannibal got to work with the boys insides, but Will was not his partner. Impulsively,
Will's hands twisted into the open cavern like oak tree roots, stuffed inside the ribcage of their
victim. He felt every living and dying thing beneath the earth. Hannibal encompassed the dark
thunderstorms above them. A red flood was to come. He ran his hands over the lungs and ribs,
feeling the anatomy of the boy who is now a corpse.

Ancient and biblical, to wash them both of their last lives. Wash away their lives before each
other completely and give these monsters a holy beginning. Rebirth, finally, into the holy primal of
a newly born wendigo.

"Will," spoken like the first cry of a sonnet.

"Yes?"

Hannibal stood up, out of the gore that had become of the bartender. Collecting the organs he
wished to keep, and extending his bloody hand to the smaller man, they pulled away from the
gutted corpse. "Best we get out of here."

Will nodded and followed without second thought. Hannibal's hands felt like they were
covered in molasses, sticky and hot as his fingers intertwined with Will's. Sticking them together as
they dried like a scab.

Behind them a mosaic of organs became a tableau to celtic sacrifice, the boys eyes filled with
mistletoe and his slashed throat painting a red noose around his neck. Cradled by red robes and a
rope harness that formed a gorgeous Celtic knot around his ripped open chest, which on Hannibal's
request was filled with cheap beer and holly berries.

Will swore as they headed home bathed in blood and sweat, he could hear the beating of drums
and smelled burnt flesh as they headed up the large cobblestone stairs.
 Cherry Wine

Will was higher than ever, walking on metaphorical clouds as they entered the large stone house.
After his first kill, Hobbs, he was nauseating by his actions. Killing him felt just but the guilt still
churned hot in his stomach. Will never would have imagined that murder could feel this good. He
had always held onto his humanity, his empathy, like a dog with a bone. When Hannibal tore it
away, and gave him fresh meat for the first time, it was as if he'd restarted something primal that
had been hidden from Will his whole life.

The black of night faded as quickly as it came, soon the threat of sunlight would uncover what
they've done. Morning rays will bathe the boys' open chest in warmth and melt the soft frost that
has grown over the night. Someone will eventually find their tableau and gawk in the gore and
depravity of it all. The thought send shivers down Will's spine. He was beginning to understand
just how Hannibal's brain worked, the thrill he got from being the Ripper, from the cat and mouse
of taunting idiot cops.

Hannibal kissed Will's forehead and quickly put the remnants of their bartender into the fridge. He
would make some decadent and delicious breakfast for them, Will hoped. He still was disgusted by
his lover's cannibalism but he loved his cooking. He loved the way that Hannibal smiled and
pulled Will upstairs by his hair.

There was something intoxicating about Hannibal's roughness with him. His animal comes out in
these moments where he can't be bothered to put his human mask back on. After kills he is
unhinged, biting into Will's skin and leaving him littered in bruises and scabs. The veil is lifted and
the monster underneath is ravenous.

The lovers enter the lavish bedroom, adorned with velvet red blankets and cherry wood floors.
Black drapes hanging from the canopy cradle all the ornate wood detailing. It made Will feel like
the bride of Dracula. Well, that as well as the both of them still being covered in blood, Hannibal
looking at him like he wanted to eat him.

"What are you thinking about, Will?" Hannibal said as his large hands pushed Will onto the bed,
climbing over him. His red-soaked dress shirt stuck to his lean form, sleeves rolled up and scabbing
together. The doctor pushed down onto Will's crotch with his knee, pinning him down.

"You eating me," It sort of slipped out, but Will had been thinking of it all too often lately. Ever
since that first wet dream that left him vomit soaked and throbbing against his pajama pants, Will
had wanted it. Since he saw the way Hannibal's eyes roll back in his head as he tasted a small piece
of raw, bloody liver while he was cooking for them both a while ago.

Hannibal had made a noise like he'd been punched in the gut at Will's comment, like the wind
being knocked out of him. The maroon of his eyes becoming black and predatory. He seemed at a
loss for words, something uncommon.

"Thinking about you tearing open my stomach, chewing on it raw, no fancy bullshit I want your
fucking teeth in me," Will had opened the floodgates and there was no turning back now. He was
so hard it hurt and he wanted to be a part of Hannibal forever.

"Mylimasis..." Hannibal's eyes were glassy like he could cry, still dark with desire as he pressed the
sweetest kiss against Will's nervous lips. "That is a...delicious request." Hannibal seemed to be
having a hard time keeping calm, his fingers shaking as he cradled the younger man's face. "I do
not want to lose you too soon. As much as I want to fulfill every fantasy you have in your beautiful
brain...I can't."

"What if you just took a piece? I wanna be a part of you, I want you to consume me... please?" Will
didn't mean to sound desperate, but with the doctor's knee pressed against him, he couldn't stop the
helpless bucking of his hips and salivating of his mouth as he imagined what Hannibal may taste
like, or how Will's blood would taste on Hannibal's tongue as they kissed.

"If that's what you want, my love, I will give it to you." Hannibal smiled, grinding his knee against
the boy, earning a pathetic whimper from him.

"What part do you want?"

"Just a taste, something nonessential..." Hannibal's gaze on him changed now. Will felt exposed,
like he was nothing more to his lover than a pig, than the possible hundreds that may have came
before him. That laid beneath the Ripper and watched him decide what parts of them would make
the best dinner.

Lecter ripped open Will's shirt, stripping him quickly. He kissed Will's sweat soaked skin wherever
he could, admiring his body like it was a marble statue. "What about here," Hannibal pressed into
the soft flesh of Will's inner thigh.

Will let out a whimper like an injured dog, and that was all Hannibal needed. He swiftly pulled a
large and sharp scalpel from his jacket pocket before tossing his clothes aside and grabbing his
lover by the throat. "I'll be quick, my dear Will, I don't wish to cause you pain."

"I don't mind if you do." Will smiled, and then lost himself in pleasure as Hannibal bound the
younger man's hands to the bed post above him, to keep his work steady.

"My beautiful masochist...you are perfect." Hannibal growled as he dug the blade into his lover's
leg and carefully sliced. Cherry wine spilled from the wound and stained the sheets quickly,
Hannibal was licking and sucking on it like it was a drug. A pitiful scream was pulled from Will's
throat, the hot pain of Hannibal cutting out a piece of meat to try blended with languid pleasure of
his other hand rubbing over Will's boxers gently. Will's vision was beginning to go black with
blood loss.

The last thing he saw was Hannibal grabbing a needle and thread, and licking the blood of his
fingers.
 Hunger Pangs

Will awoke to see a sight of sin and lust, Hannibal chewing slowly on Will's raw flesh, eyes black.
He seemed to be savoring every small bite like it was the most expensive cut of lamb, a priceless
delicacy. The sight got Will hard, made him feel like something to be treasured. It also made his
eyes well up, tears stinging his cheeks. He didn't know what he did to deserve this man's love. His
admiration and attention seemed almost too much sometimes. As if he wanted Will so bad it
physically hurt him to be with the younger man.

Tonight Hannibal was Lucifer incarnate, divine and blood soaked. He loved his god so much but
despised him for creating creatures so vile and cruel. He couldn't cope with it so he became that
cruelty, wore it like a crown of bones and guts around his head. A wreath to show his dedication to
revenge. In that moment, Will swore he could see black, burning wings spreading behind his
lover's back. Fangs growing from Hannibal's perfect teeth, splitting his lip as he held onto his own
monster. He seemed so hungry now that he had gotten a taste.

"You taste..." Hannibal's voice was syrupy, "like cinnamon, whiskey and sex." It slid like chocolate
through Will's ears, dripping into his skull and drowning out the burning pain of Will's bleeding
thigh. "You may be the most delicious thing I have ever had the pleasure of tasting."

"C-can I?" He felt a hot blush spread across his cheeks as Hannibal smirked and brought what was
left of the meat to Will's mouth. Will hesitated, but the way his lover looked at him with pride and
astonishment, eased his nervousness. When the dripping flesh met his lips, Hannibal seemed to
lose control. Moaning as he shoved it into Will's mouth. It was chewy, stringy, and Will certainly
didn't have his partner's refined palette. He couldn't taste the hint of spice, or the booze, but it most
definitely tasted like sex. Like Hannibal's bloody lips against his, his cum shooting against the back
of Will's throat.

Hannibal was gawking at him, those black wings disappearing and Will saw just his lover. The
man who made him breakfast in the morning, who washed his back in the shower and opened
doors for him. That left hickies everywhere his work suit covered, guided Will's hands as they
spread Randall's skin across the skeleton and pulled the bloody intestines out of their bartender and
kissed over his corpse. What a delicious combination of sweet and savory their love was. Addictive
in every feeling they shared, the most decadent of flavors in each unique way Hannibal showed
Will his love.

"I love you." Hannibal said it first right then. He said it clearly, like a fact. It took Will by surprise
and he felt at a loss for words, that didn't matter though. Soon Hannibal's lips were pressed against
his, pulling every thought and breath from his body. His magnetism pulling Will's blood close to
the surface. Every part of Will was reaching out for him.

Hannibal tore their clothes off, ripping away anything that could keep them apart. His cherry
stained hands grasping roughly on Will's sharp hipbones. Sometimes it felt like they just couldn't
get close enough. But tonight, Will could taste his body on the cannibal's tongue, small bits of
muscle in his teeth. Hannibal's split lip leaking into Will's mouth like a fountain of the sweetest
wine.

Will was obsessed with the way Hannibal's large hands could fit around his waist, throw him
around like a rag doll and position him like one of his tableaus. He loved Hannibal's calm
admiration of every part of Will that he, himself, feared for years. Loved the sweetness as much as
he loved the monster.
"I love you!" Will cried out when Hannibal slid inside of him, when he let bloody spit fall onto
Will's chest. His monster moaned, kissed him sloppily and Hannibal fucked Will like he hated
him, and kissed him like he was worshipping at the feet of a god. He was rough in all the right
places, Will had been with other men but no one could ever compare to his monster.

Thinking of love often made Will's stomach churn and twist, filled him with fears of domestication
and flashbacks of smashed bottles and muddy graveyards. But with Hannibal... all he saw in love
was blooming dahlias, bloody lip prints, smelled floral teas, and perfectly cooked filets. He could
picture them staying here in Scotland forever, settling in a cottage by the coast where Hannibal
could paint the cliffs and Will could bring his dogs, maybe even some sheep.

Or, maybe they could just keep running, travel through Europe until they were in their old age.
Hannibal could show him where he was born, where he first killed. They could sip the finest wines
from Paris to Croatia, eat their way through the continent. These thoughts filled the empty hollow
of Will's chest with roses, hunger pangs, and pomegranates.
 thunderstorms

Sadly, the men could not spend all their time in the cloudy dreary hills of Scotland. They could not
devour each other piece by piece until the housekeeper comes to find two skeletons in a tender
embrace. Rotting together into that blood soaked bed for eternity. As much as Will and Hannibal
wanted to disappear and never turn back, they had obligations; jobs, and things they had to deal
with back in Maryland.

The FBI and the killers were far too close for comfort at the moment, but severing that chord
hastily would make it messy for everyone involved. If they were to separate themselves from their
previous lives they had to do it tenderly, and subtly. So as to not draw unwanted attention to their
midnight behaviors.

It was the morning after Hannibal had swallowed his lover's flesh, dewdrops cradled the roses and
grass around the grand stone mansion. In the kitchen, Hannibal was cooking breakfast for the
lovers.

Will thought he looked so soft in his sweater, pajama pants and slippers. Warm sunlight
beginning to leak through the foggy windows as the Killer cooked seared waiter with a side of eggs
benedict, roasted heirloom potatoes and crisp freshly picked tomatoes from the garden round the
back of the property.

Hannibal smiled widely as he put the beautifully organized plate in front of his lover, who happily
devoured the flesh and creamy eggs. Will was once obviously hesitant eating the meat Hannibal
prepared for them, but as more and more blood that soaked his lover's hands-he became more
comfortable with the way Hannibal lived his life. The way they both lived, now. He eagerly
wished to help Hannibal in the kitchen but Hannibal preferred to have full control.

"How is it, Darling?" Hannibal asked, taking a seat on the stool next to Will, sinking his teeth into
the crispy flesh that decorated half the plate.

"S'really good," Will said with a stuffed mouth. He realized his rudeness and quickly swallowed
the bite. "It tastes like really expensive bacon... the eggs are really fuckin' perfect too."

"How does he taste?"

Oh Hannibal loves to test Will's unsophisticated pallet. Will looked at him sheepishly, taking a big
bite of meat, letting the fat melt away on his tongue, the muscle crunch between his teeth. "Like
booze, a bit... and walnuts?"

Hannibal beamed at that, "You're getting better at this. It's nutty, earthy, but there's also a hint of
metallic salt, that's the blood. As for the booze, this particular pig was seared in ale but burnt off I
see how you could mistake the flavors."

Will blushed a bit. He was still so uncomfortable with praise, and his lack of culinary knowledge.
"Thank you for all this."

"Thank you, Will. You're going to need all the strength you can get after last night...don't be afraid
to ask for seconds. We wouldn't want you passing out on the flight."
"Do we really have to go so soon?" Will's big blue eyes seemed to widen as that puppy dog pout
spread across his face. "I've felt relaxed for the first time in forever." It was almost too cute to
deny-almost.

"If we take any days off of work, at the same time, people may get suspicious, Mylimasis. The last
thing we want is-

"I know, I know. Suspicion of one thing could lead to an investigation of another." This frustrated
Will, but he understood they couldn't let their relationship slip. Especially not since he is lying to
Jack, faking his pawn and sharing spit with Hannibal. He hasn't told Hannibal the full plan yet, he
doesn't know that Jack knewWill killed Randall. Will isn't sure how they could ever leave together
without Jack knowing just what's happened. It was eating away at him.

"Exactly." Hannibal kissed Will's curls where they rest against his forehead. "I'm sorry dear, we
will leave one day. Just not today." He ate the rest of his breakfast, and served his lover more of
their long pig from last night.

After they were both full and dressed, Will was sipping his coffee and looking out at the property.
Sometimes Hannibal's wealth amazed him, it made him wonder what his lover's life must've been
like before Baltimore. Surely he had to have family money, with his refined tastes and proclivity
for grandiose gestures and all things high art. How he could be a psychiatrist and afford the things
he has-well- he's mysterious to say the least.

Despite their closeness, Will still feels far from him so much of the time. After all, he was
Louisiana trailer trash with hidden southern twang and trauma. Flannel personified and an
alcoholic streak. Whereas Hannibal was fine aged wine, rich velvet and a literal genius by all
accounts. They were so different.

Will was pulled from his thoughts by a strong hand on his shoulder, "What's plaguing you, my
dear?"

"Do you ever think we are too different? I mean, all of this- it's so much."

"Oh Will, I know you don't think you deserve anything nicer than a pair of socks for Christmas, but
you are so much more than that. I would give you anything, and I don't want you to feel guilty for
what I wish to give you. Just because you aren't accustomed to it does not make it bad."

"Yeah... I just I'm also just wondering what your life was like before all this?"

"Before you?"

"Before Hopkins, and psychiatry and surgery. Where did you grow up?" Will felt bad asking,
because even though Hannibal clearly came from rich blood, something had to have happened to
make him like this. Part of Will did believe the opposite, however. Hannibal is the perfect sadist.
So perfect he could've easily been born as he is. Like the antichrist born to a loving family, hiding
from their sight like a black snake in the garden.

Hannibal looked empty, black eyes going unfocused and lost. He sighed, "That is a story for
another time. I promise I will explain it all to you one day. Just know that i'm yours now, Will.
Once we are finally safe, you can have all of me."

Will nodded, and Hannibal grabbed the mug from his hands, placing it on the edge of the
balcony so he could bring Will into his chest. "I have never felt closer to you, my love. You're in
my stomach, the taste of your flesh between my teeth still lingers. We will only get closer."
 Will's body broke out in goosebumps at that, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "M-me too. I like
being a part of you."

Hannibal leaned down and brought their lips together. When he kissed this boy there was not
one thing in the world that could touch either of them. A perfect match, so rare. Hannibal couldn't
believe it still, monsters were not supposed to love. They were supposed to banish themselves,
cowering in some hidden town alone once their bodies can't handle the hunt. Or they don't stop and
they get sloppy, loose focus and end up rotting away in a cell. Either way, alone. Hannibal and
Will would be together as long as they both lived, he would make sure of that.
 Black Sea

Will was watching rain hit the window. He was sipping on plastic cup full of beer. He hated
airplanes. His ears popped and headaches became unbearable. He was trying to drain out the
chorus of crying babies and announcements with headphones. Even in the first class seat Hannibal
had bought him, Will was tense and overwhelmed. If only he felt safe enough to drink himself to
sleep, but he couldn't.

So far above the sea, and in the light of day he could really see it this time. The grey light of the
sun far behind the clouds made the ocean dark and colorless. Black as pitch and crashing violently.

Will could imagine his body slipping through the floor, out the plane and falling. Wing whipping
his hair, feeling his heart swell and his throat close in fear. Crashing into pure black, freezing
waves. Sinking deeper and deeper, cradled by void, feeling it fill his skull and his lungs. His head
finally quiet as he watches the fading sunlight disappears until there’s nothing at all.

Will snapped out of it when the pilot made a grainy announcement. He tried to pull himself back to
reality. He was sweating, and chugged the rest of his drink. He imagined Hannibal on his plane,
drinking wine and having playful conversations with the attendants.

Will missed him, this surely would be easier with Hannibal at his side. Everything was easier.
Will knew that their relationship was toxic to say the least, but Hannibal completed him. His entire
life, he saw his empathy as a curse. He was always sure that some he would be doomed to the same
fate as his father. Settle down south, alone and drunk until he gave up and swallowed a bullet.

Now that he’s tasted blood, Will knows he would much rather drown with Hannibal by his side
than give up on everything they had built together. He would rather have Hannibal, in all his
horror, than imagine his monster being locked away, completely alone. They were meant to die
together wrapped in gore and roses. If he ever lost Hannibal, Will knew he’d die by his own hand.

Will clearly didn't belong in first class, but he did his best as playing the part. Fixing up his shirt
and playing on his phone. Nothing could distract him from his fear, he couldn't swallow the dread
of what may happen once they arrive back in Baltimore. How they could possibly get away from it
all.

Scotland was beautiful and their kill was godlike. Will saw it when he closed his eyes, that
hollow chest and full moon. Smelled the booze wafting off the boy’s blood. Tearing into him and
giving sacrifice to their first trip. Shadows of trees, Hannibal swallowing Will's flesh, the way it
tasted when they kissed. His heart had never been so sure, Hannibal was all he needed. If they
could make it out together, everything could be perfect.

But it was not perfect. Will still has his lies and his fears, there is still so much work to do
before they can have their bloody elopement. Will had to wait, but he couldn't stop thinking of how
to avoid Jack and anyone he may have let in on the Randall Tier situation.

It becomes clearer and clearer as he gets closer to the east coast. He sees only suffering in their
future. He sees Jack dead and Hannibal abandoning him. Will tried to think of every possibility,
anything that could stop the inevitable.

There was only one option now, and that was clear.

Will has to die.

—-

Will’s dogs greeted him eagerly, the neighbor had been feeding them but by their whining it
sounded like she hadn’t bothered to this morning. Will cut up some sausage that Hannibal put in
his freezer for them and mixed it with their dry.

He took a shower while they ate, changed and went back downstairs to let the dogs out. Smiling as
they all ran by his feet. He smoked a cigarette on the porch as they played. Still nauseous with
anxiety, he wanted nothing more than to be curled up in Hannibal’s arms. But he is lying to the
monster he loves, and he knows it can’t end well.

More than anything Will just hopes they can go back, Virginia feels so empty now that he’s known
the comfort of Hannibal’s hands constantly on him for day’s on end. The feeling of walking down
cobblestone streets hand in hand under orange street lights. Drinking champagne in the back of a
limo taking them away from the city to their love nest. Hannibal tasted Will’s flesh, and Will
wanted the same. He wanted Hannibal to be a part of him as well.

The couch felt cold when his bare thighs pressed against it. This house was loosing its warmth and
Will no longer felt stable being alone. Before all of this, before Hannibal, Will had buried himself
between these walls. Lost his mind in the maze that this small cottage became when his brain was
set on fire.

Hannibal may have set that fire but in the end, they both were wrong. At each other’s neck, trying
to one up the other without realizing they are a perfect match. Will hates himself for being so
oblivious to what they could’ve been. If he had realized sooner, Jack would never have been
involved and they could’ve escaped together without all of this stress.

He gave up and went to bed, which proved itself fruitless. With Hannibal they ran through the
woods like wolves looking for prey, fucked until Will was so dead he slept dreamless. As soon as
they were separated, his insomnia returned.

Fear was hot in his chest and Will knew he needed to come clean but he couldn’t bring himself to
do it yet. He was so afraid he would hurt Hannibal, if he had the capability to be hurt. And
honestly, the closer they get, the less Will believes Hannibal is a classic sociopath. If he could love
he could be hurt. And Will knew, even if it’s in some fucked up way, Hannibal was in love with
him.
 bad dreams

In the pitch of night, Will can only see candles. White bleeding red wax, all arranged in a path. As
he steps over muddied leaves and mossy stones, following the lights, he's led further and further
from his home. The air is cold, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. Wet earth sticks to the soles
of his feet and he realizes he's forgotten just how long he's been walking at this point.

He tries to turn around but all the candles have blew out behind him. There is only nothingness
there. He felt the dark woods trying to swallow him like the sea. His house far gone and he has
nowhere to go but forward.

His heart is beating heavy, rattling against his ribcage, and he began to run, flames blowing out
as he passed them. Feeling like something was nipping at his heels, he runs and runs. He came to a
cliffs edge, nearly hurtling himself into the abyss below. He stopped, rocks from under his feet
toppling off the cliff. Before he could stop to catch his breath, his body lit up in burning pain. his
forehead began to split open, he reached up to touch the black stubs that were pushing out from his
skull.

Great black antlers sprouted from the gashes, and blood trickled down his face and neck. It was
hot against his throat, he began to feel woozy. Will fell to his back, and as he looked up through the
trees he heard Hannibal's voice. It was seemingly coming from the heavens, shaking the branches
and echoing through the canyon. "You look so beautiful with blood on your hands."

———

Will woke up, soaked in sweat and scared. For the first time since they've been together, he felt
truly separated from Hannibal. His mind was filling slowly with the waters of doubt and horror.
Will's becoming, as his lover referred to it, was not as beautiful as Will had been told. He was
dying.

He closed his eyes, suddenly seeing his own hands. But, now they were small and soft as they
had been in his youth. It was warm and bright, and he smelled the sweet aroma of honeysuckles.
When he was a kid, he would wander the roadsides and collect the flowers and sit by the river,
licking nectar off the stems and tossing them into the water.

At some point the water would turn pink and purple, marsh coming alive as crickets began their
night songs. The summer days of youth seemed to draw out forever. He would spend hours in the
woods to get away from his home, watching for birds and gators. Wandering through dark streets,
full of mosquitos and street lights. By the time Will would walk back to the trailer park, his house
was dark and quiet. He always tucked himself into bed.

What would that kid think of the killer he is now. The motor grease and flowers his hands once
smelled of have now become the stench of blood and cigarette smoke. Long Louisiana days turned
frigid. The sun barely lasting the afternoon when Virginia's winter came rushing in.

He ran to the bathroom, emptying the bile from his stomach into the toilet bowl. Tears welled
up, stinging at the back of his throat and as the first broken sob slipped from his lips it did not
cease. Truly crying for the first time in ages, he curled up in the tub as the water ran over him.

Will loved Hannibal, loved the way he took care of him. Loved his slightly crooked teeth, the
way his hair stuck up and his voice was like a gravel road in the mornings. But he has turned Will
into something unrecognizable. Their love was not just breakfasts in bed, it was skinned pigs and
dark whiskey. A just pride of two lions, hunting sheep in plain sight.

All memories of childhood now appeared through a filter of distortion. He felt so disconnected
from who he'd once been now that the blue in his eyes gets darker, slowly filling like a pools of
blood.

This was part of the process, mourning what his life could've been if he hadn't chose to drown
himself in murder. Hadn't met Lucifer in a three piece suit and decided to take his hand.
Abandoning his badge and honor for Hannibal's bloody hand. Something straight out of a Stoker
novel, Will was now Dracula's bride-to-be and he was experiencing his cold feet. He knew his
own death was necessary, being undead is the only way they could keep this up.

But tonight, Will would mourn for the life he would be leaving behind, his home and his past.
It wasn't the most glamorous or joyous of lives, but it was his. And soon, just as Hannibal had fled
Lithuania never to look back, so Will would leave Louisiana and Virginia behind. Abandoning
memories, both good and bad.

The water began to run cold, and Will forced himself back to bed.

———

Hannibal had an appointment early in the day, and he would be lying if he said he didn't find them
all incredibly boring after he met Will. He enjoyed picking the sheep's brains every once in a while
but nothing would ever be as fruitful as the bounties of his lover's dark imagination.

Randall had come the closest, he was such an interesting kid. One who thought himself a monster,
a beast trapped in a man's body. Will had felt such a connection with him, lost himself in Randall's
instincts. In many ways, Hannibal sending the beast after Will was a trial run. Having an attack
dog, or cave bear, was thrilling, but Hannibal loved that Will liked to kill with his hands.

Randall believed he was inhuman. It was something Hannibal could relate to. But Hannibal's
kills, everything about him, was precise and methodical. Randall had no manners, in fact he used to
run on all fours through his back yard. Hannibal fought the laugh in the back of his throat, given
the sobbing woman in his office.

The widow before him has been having nightmares, as she tells Hannibal. In the last, she describes
being stuck in the casket with her rotting husband. She said she could feel the weight of dirt on her
chest and there were worms and bugs crawling all over her, maggots trying to burrow under her
skin.

"Do you feel as if you died with him, Gwendolyn?" Hannibal asked, knowing the answer. For a
young and fairly pretty girl with little to no personality, Hannibal imagined her husband was the
only thing in the world that made her feel special.

She nodded, crying even harder. Hannibal passed her some tissues, and sat back in his seat.

Hannibal wondered briefly if this is what would become of him, if his lover passed. Would he be
unable to enjoy life without Will? Would the wine taste less sweet, meat less divine? He imagined
a world without Will would be colorless. Hannibal would survive, but something would always be
missing. Deep down he always knew at some point they would be separated, less they die in each
other's arms. Truly that's the only way he wishes to leave this world.

He would gladly rot with William, mouths full of each other's tongues as their bodies becoming
great trees, roots forever twisted. Blending, becoming the moss and fruit of the late summer.
"It's not uncommon to be plagued with dreams of death after someone close to you passes.
Especially a partner. You need to focus on what makes you feel alive. Could you write me a list of
things that make you feel alive, Gwendolyn?"

Hannibal's thinks his list would be as follows:

- Cooking
- Travel
- Killing
- Will
Not exactly in that order.
 Guilt and Rain

Will had to return to work eventually, he couldn't raise suspicion around the wolves he worked
with. One drop of blood on his cuffs, one love bite, any small thing could give him and Hannibal
away. Were they to be found out, Jack would make sure they be separated at all costs.

Will tried not to think about it, he finished his cigarette before walking into the building. It was
later in the day. he prayed that everyone had already left. More than that he was hoping to avoid
Jack if he could.

The second he got into the break room, Jack was there waiting. Will was just trying to get a coffee,
and Jack practically dragged him by the collar into his office.

He slammed the door and Will flinched. He seemed mad. Oh god it was all falling apart. Jack
knew he had to why would he-

"I think you should stop coming in."

"W-what?"

"If Hannibal is to believe you're turning to his side, you should quit. Well...pretend to quit." Jack
sighed, sitting down behind his desk. He looked stressed, and he barely looked at Will as he talked.

"Um..." Will was confused, did this make this easier or that much more difficult? He would have to
lie to Hannibal, that he truly did quit. But Jack expected him to come back once they'd caught the
Ripper. Freddie was still in hiding, and Jack would surely have to keep in contact with Will one
way or another. Fuck. He had to do it now, this was the only way.

"That's not gonna work, Jack."

"And why the hell not?"

"I think I'm going to quit, Jack. For real," Will said quietly, closing his eyes to avoid whatever glare
Jack was giving him.

"Excuse me?" Jack yelled. Will didn't have to look at him to imagine the death glare he had on his
face. "You want to give up," He let out a sarcastic laugh. "Will you fucking killed somebody and I
covered up for it! Freddie Lounds is in hiding, you- what the hell are you thinking?!"

"I-I can't do this anymore, Jack. The guilt um... from Randall, it was self defense but"

"But what?!"

"It's eating me alive. That and being around Hannibal, it's making me so anxious and scared. It's
getting so bad again. I'm constantly in fear for my life, in fear of what he could make me do. I can't
keep this up, I'm sorry. I need to get away from all this."

"Will, I can't force you to do this but what the hell can I do to keep you from jail once the Tier
information leaks? Your immunity could only be given that you were helping catch the Ripper, and
your self defense. How can I catch him without you?"

"You can catch him, you know everything I know... he won't slip up but maybe you can still find
some way to force his hand. I'm sorry, Jack. I give up."
Price tried to stop Will as he stormed out of Jack's office, but he ignored him. Practically running
out of the building. He was panicking, breathing so heavy. He and Hannibal hadn't planned for this,
it was going to mess everything up.

Will jumped in his car, trying to calm his breathing. But Will couldn't keep lying to the man he
loved. He wanted that dream Hannibal had shown him glimpses of in Scotland. Bloody kisses and
cobblestone streets. But this was Will's reality check, the FBI was in between their sheets. And,
now, it was more obvious than ever that Will needed to kill Freddie.

All without being caught by Jack. If he killed Freddie, then staged his suicide. Would Hannibal be
in the clear? Will pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward Baltimore. He was so fucking
stupid.

———

Hannibal was escorting his last patient of the day, Margot Verger, out of the building when he
noticed Will's car out front. He and Will had become so... domestic recently that he found it odd
his lover hadn't let him know he was coming over. Immediately Hannibal sensed that something
was off.

Margot headed to her car, left. Hannibal stood in the foyer waiting. Will stumbled in a few minutes
later, smelling of stress and cigarettes. He jumped once he spotted Hannibal sitting in front of him.

"Uh-hi."

"Hello, Will." Hannibal stood up, walking over to him. "What's wrong, darling? You seem off."
Hannibal brought his hand to brush Will's curls off his forehead.

"I need to tell you something. And you're gonna hate me for it."

"Mylimasis, I could never hate you. You've tried to kill me, get me thrown in prison-"

"Okay fair..." Will was so anxious, if this was the day Hannibal gave up on him, he'd hate himself
forever. Not having one last perfect day with his lover. "Could we maybe talk about it later? I need
time to think, I came straight here and I don't know how to say this yet."

Hannibal looked a bit puzzled, but he nodded. "Take all the time you need. You're sweating
buckets, Will. Would you like to join me for a shower?"

Will smiled. "Yes, please."

———

Hannibal massaged Will's hair from behind, working the conditioner in. He loved cleaning Will, it
was so intimate . Will finally let his guard down, shoulders becoming lax under the warm water.
"Are you feeling better?"

The shower was warm, and Will loved the way Hannibal's skin felt against his back. He slid one
hand around Will's neck. He wasn't as stressed, but he still had a bubbling pile of guilt burning in
his stomach.

"Answer me."

"Yes."
"Good." Hannibal smiled, turning the younger man around to face him. Will looked especially
gorgeous circled by steam, droplets of water gathered on his collar bones, with wet curls pulled
back off his face. He couldn't help himself but to bring him closer.

Will's eyes fell to the floor, and he blushed. Still as bashful as ever, Hannibal hated how cute it
was. "Don't worry about all this now, William. Relax for me, alright?"

Hannibal loved him. Will could feel it in the way his strong hands roamed over Will's skin, like he
was admiring a sculpture. His dark, dead, eyes warmed ever so slightly in Will's presence, shifting
from black to bloody maroon. Like two rubies, meeting Will's icy blues. They were two halves of a
whole. Hannibal would know what to do.

"I quit today," Will said softly, still scared of what his lover would think. Will was disrupting his
plan.

Hannibal froze a bit, before turning off the shower. He said nothing as he grabbed two fluffy
towels off the rack. Will was shaking as they dried off and walked into Hannibal's bedroom.
Horrified.

"Why did you quit?"

"I can't-I want to leave all of this. Working there, after everything we've done...the paranoia is
eating me alive. I'm so scared to lose you."

Hannibal walked over to him, brushing his cheek softly. "I don't care if God himself split the earth
right where we stand. I will always find my way back to you, mylimasis. Jack and his blood hounds
are nothing you need to be concerned about."

Will felt tears burning in the back of his throat, and now sliding down his cheeks. He was so scared
to lose Hannibal, and he should tell Hannibal even more. He couldn't keep lying to him. He
couldn't even try to hide his tears as a sob slipped from his lips.

"Shh," Hannibal whispered, kissing Will on his forehead. "I will take care of you, Will. I'll take
care of all of it."

Will nodded. His breathing calmed as Hannibal rubbed his back. He felt so small. He closed his
eyes and imagined they were back in Scotland. Sitting on the giant patio, drinking wine. All he
wanted was to get the hell out of Baltimore.

Hannibal stood up and he whimpered. Hannibal smiled and gave him soft clothes to wear. Helping
him into a soft sweater and shorts. Just as Hannibal was sliding on his own pajama pants, there was
a knock at the door.
 Tea Cup Shards

Will's memory was a deep and misty forest that he wandered through endlessly. Cold moss under
his feet and clouds surrounding him from seeing what may be right in front of him.

Only seeing glimpses of what he did in quick flashes at the corners of his peripheral vision. He
could make out organs spraying across the silver of Hannibal's kitchen. After the knock, Will was
floating in that black sea once again. Hearing a booming voice coming from the foyer, being
transported back to the sound of his father's screams rattling the trailer.

In many ways Will still felt so young, like he'd never truly understand what it was like to feel
normal and grown up. As if he was forever trapped behind the stained shutter door of his rotting
trailer in Louisiana. Head swimming in the stench of cigarettes and brandy. But at the same time
his heart was weathered and scarred, covered in tar and teeth marks. His eyes were heavy, sunken
in his cheeks, and his hands showed his years with scars and callouses.

The void pulled him into its arms. Embraced him like a mother. Suffocating and empty, choking
Will as it brings him far enough away from reality. This has been happening long before his brain
was set on fire. His mind soaring above his body and into the night sky so he forgets what happens
after men scream. What could be lost if Will did had something wrong?

Will comes to, slowly. Like he's shifting in and out of a dream. Then realizes he's no longer in
Hannibal's room. He's downstairs and it smells like iron and acid. He tastes it on his tongue, feels
his hair still wet from the shower.

The only thing he sees now is Hannibal, covered in blood. Standing in a pool of guts. Looking at
him with anger in his watery eyes. "This is far too messy, Will."

"I-uh what? What's happening?" He felt sweaty, or wet. His breathing felt harsh and hot. The world
around him seemed to be piecing itself back together.

Hannibal softened. "Did you have a blackout?" He dropped the knife in his hand and the clang of it
on the floor made Will flinch. He had no idea what had happened in the past... however long it had
been.

"I know this is scary, we'll talk about all of this when we get the hell out of here. Which needs to
be right now," Hannibal said. He sounded so worried, unlike himself.

Will nodded, now noticing his hair was not wet from the shower but completely soaked in blood
and dripping. The white silk shorts he was wearing were splattered in red and the sweater was torn
and sticky. He felt bad about ruining the things Hannibal bought for him.

"I-I'm sorry, Hannibal."

"For what? Do you remember?"

"No...but I feel sorry." Will looked down, playing with the lace at the trim of his shorts. It
looked kinda pretty stained red.

"No need to apologize, dear. Go get cleaned up and pack your things from my room. I'll take care
of everything down here. We need to be out of the country by morning. We'll go somewhere
unexpected for a while. Everything will be okay."
 Will nodded, gave Hannibal a kiss on his cheek. He accepted it but didn't give Will anything
back. He just gave him a weak smile and rubbed his shoulder.

Hannibal turned to go into the basement and grab the cleaning supplies. Will went to head up the
stairs but as he did he heard a loud thump and turned to see Hannibal dragging Jack's mutilated
body from the other side of the kitchen down the stairs.

He was gonna be sick.

———

Will was heaving blood and god only knows what into the toilet bowl, leaving red hand prints on
the seat. He wiped it off and got into the shower. The second the hot water ran over the drying
blood on his skin, everything that had happened came rushing back.

He remembered Jack screaming in the foyer, Hannibal trying to calm him down. Then he heard a
slam, followed by the shatter of glass breaking. So he ran. Stumbling down the staircase on faun
legs. He followed the noises to the kitchen.

Will was greeted by Jack’s shocked face. Eyebrows furred and mouth downturned in a grimace.
Will had then realized he had completely forgotten his attire, a mural of hickeys on display in his
low hanging sweater and in silk, lacy short shorts.

This is where it all kicked in, where Will Graham the FBI special investigator died and Will, the
cannibal killer was born. The deception and lies were gone, Jack could see them both clearly for
the first time. The disgust and nausea on his face was clear and it made Will angry. What he and
Hannibal had was so beautiful.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Jack’s deep voice booming through the kitchen. “You two
are sleeping together?!” He sounded betrayed, shocked and...disgusted. “Jesus Christ, out of
everything I thought Will may have abandoned his job for never would I guess you were fucking-“

Hannibal took advantage of Jack’s moment of confusion, and he hit the gun out of his hand before
he stabbed him in the gut. As he twisted the knife in he growled, “We are not ‘fucking’.” The word
sounded so dirty in Hannibal’s syrupy accent. “Will is mine, he always has been. And I am his just
the same. You can’t control him any more.”

“You’re the one controlling him! Will if he manipulated you into this, I can still help you!” Jack
cried and Hannibal stabbed him again, in the side of his neck.

Will let out a little yelp as he watched Jack fall to the floor. And he blushed at Hannibal’s
declaration. He felt it light him up inside. He walked toward them, feeling his body go numb and
the monster coming forward. “I may have played agent for you, Jack. We both have made
mistakes. But Hannibal is everything to me, he is my god, my end and beginning. I will never let
you cage him.” Will, now looking back on what happened, wondered how he found the confidence
to say those words. He remembered Hannibal being a bit shocked too.

This is when Will’s memory becomes foggy. He remembers Jack yelling in gurgled tongues,
remembers pulling a knife from the kitchen table and just...stabbing, tearing, and pulling and biting.
He remembers Hannibal’s hands on his shoulder trying to pull him back. Then it’s a mouth full of
blood and muscle.

The taste of Will’s true freedom. Of his becoming.

 escape the hounds

Hannibal couldn't stop thinking about killing Jack. Well, he couldn't stop thinking about Will
tearing into his old friend like a rabid dog. He was practically foaming at the mouth, didn't say a
word. It was like he couldn't even hear Hannibal. As much as he loved the bloodthirsty beast Will
hides so deep, this was a kill that would have been easier done clean.

Hannibal realizes now what all this must have meant to Will. Jack was an old friend in ways but
more than that he was the voice of 'reason', morals and the very bondage that kept Hannibal's
perfect killer in shackles. Will couldn't just sit back and let someone else slit Jack's throat and bleed
out. No, Will needed to bite and maim his way to freedom.

Hannibal wanted to stop his lover, or at the very least slow down the mauling of Jack Crawford.
But Will was too far gone, something primal and hungry had taken his place. Hannibal thought
Will was a wild dog, but in that moment he was an ancient species. Hidden under layers of flesh
like sediment covering fossils. That night an old monster was set free from the tar pit. It cornered
the one who'd pushed it in and tore him open.

With every bite, pull, and tear, Hannibal fell deeper and deeper in love with Will Graham. He
wasn't sure how much more he could learn to love this dark creature that walked into his life.

Hannibal smiled sadly, it would be a bit before they could indulge in something like this again.
They'd need to lay low as they made their way away from this life, wait even longer to set up
somewhere they could settle. Right now, they needed to escape.

Hannibal offered to drive, hoping it would calm his lover a bit to have at least a moment of rest.
They had to go to Will's house to pick up his things because after that, they had to get the hell out
of the country.

After they had both were showered, the house was cleaned, and Hannibal packed his emergency
supplies, they had got into Will's car. Deciding to abandon everything Hannibal owned to be ripped
apart by the police. They would find Jack eventually, tear into every piece of furniture and rip
through every book Hannibal owned. He'd burned all his notes on Will, Randall, everything
incriminating regardless. He left the fire unattended, also tossed a little bit of gasoline on the rug in
front of the fireplace. And lit the rug aflame. He didn't think it necessary to tell Will. Hannibal left
it up to choice whether the whole place burnt down or just his office.

Right now though, in the dark of night, his beautiful boy was bouncing his leg and tapping his
hand on his leg rapidly. Will had barely stopped shaking since he left work, he was wound tighter
than a noose. But now just barely holding himself together.

Hannibal reached over and placed his hand on Will's thigh. Stroking it gently. Feeling the warmth
coming from his blood, faintly hear his rapid heart beat. Hannibal always considered himself a
merciless killer, guiltless even. He felt just eating the people who've died at his hands. But Will,
his rabbit hearted boy, was still stumbling through his transformation.

Hannibal couldn't deny it much longer, he was quite excited that they were jumping into their lives
together now, even if it was far quicker than he'd anticipated. Hannibal had many plans for what
they'd do before this moment came but now he saw it clearly. Tropical, and cheap. Something
unlike either of their tastes, Will had a misty mountain heart and Hannibal far preferred museums
in Europe or dining in Japan to sweaty cruise ship hot spots.

But the idea of Will, sun soaked with freckles popping up on his nose, hidden away for months in
the Caribbean, wasn't too awful a thought.

"Myilu tave brangioji," 'I love you, sweetheart.' Hannibal whispered. He knew Will didn't
know much Lithuanian, but it felt so much more natural to express his feelings in his native
tongue. Like he was speaking the language of his heart. He honestly never thought he would feel
this way about somebody. Hannibal was not shy of affection, however letting someone know him,
really know him. Was previously a daydream.

Will could only make out sweetheart, so he just smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Pulling
Hannibal's hand up to his cheek, Will could smell his freshly washed hair and the bleach on his
hands. Why did he find that so comforting? He got lost in the smell and, like Hannibal was a soft
bundle of lavender, Will fell asleep for the rest of the ride.

———

They arrived in Wolftrap, Virginia a few hours later. Will's house looked dark, and empty. He took
a second to admire it as it is; his own quiet corner of the forest. Smiling as he thinks of his heard of
pups running around in the summer. Soon it would soon be covered in police tape, then pigs and
reporters, eventually teenagers breaking in would spray paint the walls as the earth eats them. Ivy
and moss swallowing it and pulling the little cabin down into history.

Hannibal pulled out the keys and told Will they needed to hurry, essentials only, everything else
Hannibal said he would take care of. Will's half asleep brain didn't even realize what this all meant.

His dogs...

He walked inside, whistling for them to come. In a sea of fur, they all ran to him. Yapping and
wagging their tails excitedly. Will felt himself tear up. He kneeled down, petting his shepherd's
neck and scratching any head that nuzzled into him.

"You can bring one, but only one. I'm sorry. There's not much I can do," Hannibal said. "I'll let you
say goodbye and get some of your things together." Hannibal disappeared up the stairs and Will
just laid down, letting the pack lay on top of him or step on him or whatever they did. As he looked
up he saw the flickering light of the clouds passing over the moon. Tonight he left his old life
behind for good.

Winston nudged at Will's chest, pouting at him. He whimpered as Will pet his neck. "Don't
worry buddy, you can come with me." His other mutts would be okay. Alana would look after
them, eventually find them homes. They'd forget Will. Everyone would. Even after the media goes
crazy with he and Hannibal's story, they'd give up eventually...hopefully.

Will got up, ran upstairs to shove whatever he could think of into his duffel bag. Hannibal had
already gotten his backpack packed, with toiletries, fake IDs and passport (how long it's been
Hannibal since he had that made, Will didn't ask.)

"I called a friend, we're meeting him in Pennsylvania and he's taking us on a private jet straight
to Martinique."

"Beach vacation?"
 "We need to go somewhere they don't anticipate."

Will nodded, and continued stuffing. Mostly it was just clothes and books. He stopped to open
his bedside drawer, pulling an old wooden box from the back.

Hannibal had come up behind him, Will could feel his breath. "It's got my mom's wedding ring,
baby teeth, ticket stubs, that kind of stuff. Also the dagger you gave me. I don't need it but... it feels
wrong to leave it."

Hannibal's hands were now on his waist, "I have things of mine I've kept with me since I was a
boy." He grabbed the box from Will's hands, and went to tuck it safely into his bag. "You don't
need to kill yourself to escape the hounds, my love, we just need to outsmart them."

———

Their drive to Pennsylvania was uneventful, Will stayed awake. Nursing a few cigarettes out the
window, he knew Hannibal hated the smell. Not of tobacco necessarily, but of a Marlboro red most
definitely . It was no aged cherry cigar, mostly formeldehyde and rat poison but right now Will
couldn't bring himself to give a single fuck about Hannibal's refined palate.

Winston was well behaved for the ride, sleeping in the back seat before getting a little restless
in the last half hour or so. Will felt bad that he had a long plane ride ahead of him. He reached back
to give him a scratch behind the ears.

Hannibal was stoic, seemingly deep in thought as they headed toward the private airfield. Will
often wondered if, even despite their closeness, he would ever truly understand Hannibal Lecter.
Will is one of the few people who have ever seen Hannibal's person suit fade away and lived to tell
the tale. But something hellish must have made him the way he is, Will still didn't quite know
though. His idea of Hannibal being the perfect hidden monster, even in his youth, became less
convincing. Hannibal has had far too many lives, Will realized this as his partner grabbed a fully
packed set of suitcases from behind his wardrobe. No one with a million lives is not running from
the first.

Even the Ripper was only one of Hannibal's many faces.

 Bloody Waters

Hot Caribbean sun hit Will's pale cheeks early in the afternoon. It smelled like the sea and Will let
out a sigh of relief that they hadn't been caught by cops the second they got off the plane.

But, he didn't really relax until they'd gotten into the cab. Finally the heavy weight of Jack's
death felt a little lighter. They were thousands of miles from Baltimore, and they could just
disappear for a while.

Having FBI agents as acquaintances when you're a serial killer is probably about as stressful as
it can get. Will hadn't really thought about how happy he and Hannibal could be away from
everything, until Scotland. After their trip Will dreamed of freedom most nights. Dreamed of
Hannibal's bloody hands smearing all over his skin in the moonlight. Fucking him into the grass of
Scottish meadows.

But, even now, they weren't free, and they needed to be conscious and careful of every step
they made. Hannibal had them driven to the far side of the island, away from the bustle of the
coast. The roads turned to dirt and the city blended into the jungle.

They were traveling as a honeymooning couple and honestly Will blushed when Hannibal referred
to him as 'mari', husband in french, to their cab driver. Hannibal seemed to notice and Will saw his
eyebrows raise in amusement.

Hannibal had rented a bungalow on nestled where the forest meets a private beach. The cab let
them out at the top of the driveway. Winston ran out, bouncing around and bolting toward the
water. Immediately Will was taken aback by the greenery, big leaves hanging over them shaded the
path to the house. Pink and purple flowers cradling the bungalow. Will had never been anywhere
like this... never even been out of the country until he met Hannibal.

Regardless of how sweaty he was, Will was happy. He let out a little laugh as Winston spun around
in the grass, trying to bite a big plant. Will didn't know how long they'd be here but he started to
feel like he could enjoy whatever time they spent in a place like this.

"How do you feel?" Hannibal asked as he carried the bags into the house. Will offered to help but
Hannibal just gave him a smile and shook his head.

"Good. Excited... still scared of what might happen back home." Will sighed, placing his shoes on
the floor and quickly getting changed into shorts. It was far too hot for a shirt anyways so he
decided to just not bother.

"As is life, my love." Hannibal walked to the edge of the porch, grabbing the last of the bags.
"I'll get everything set up inside, why don't you go see where Winston ran off to. I'll meet you by
the water in a few." He kissed Will on the cheek and headed up the stairs.

The sea here was nothing like the cold, blue black waters of the north atlantic. As Will walked
onto the warm sand, he smelled flowers and salt. The water was brilliantly teal and crystal clear,
summer breeze swaying palm trees. Their beach was surrounded only by jungle and jagged rocks,
so secluded. It really felt like their own little paradise.

Winston was splashing around in the water, looking happy. Will used to swim a lot as a kid, his dad
would be working on ships in the yard and he'd run over to the little beach in town. Swim for hours,
floating in the murky water of the bay. He was alone a lot as a child, spending forever in his own
head. In the bay, he'd watch birds fly over the sky and the dead fish float up to the top of the water.
It was an escape, but this was something else entirely.

Will never thought he'd end up somewhere like this. Honestly, if you'd asked a younger Will where
he'd be at this point in his life he would have said dead and buried next to his mother; Forever
trapped in the bayou.

Now he was in the Caribbean, in a giant seaside bungalow with his lover. The flew here on a
private jet, for christ sake. And, sure, he was on the run from a number of murders and his
boyfriend was a bloodthirsty cannibal. But, he was in love with that cannibal. Head over fucking
heels for him, in fact. And, where better run away to?

"Beautiful isn't it?" Hannibal said.

Will whipped his head around and his jaw nearly dropped, Hannibal was in a short swimsuit and
nothing else. His fresh wounds from the fight looked oddly gorgeous, like a roman god after battle.
His sharp cheekbone bruised, pouty lip split. Shadows of ferns and flowers cast against his
muscular thighs and bare chest. Will's mouth went dry and he felt his face heat up. "Y-yes it is."

Hannibal smirked, walking passed him and into the water. "I usually prefer a more mild climate,
but I'm beginning to see why it seems like everyone in the world wishes they could live like this."

Will tried to put himself together, shuffling off his shorts and running to his lover in the waves. He
felt a bit embarrassed, he'd forgotten to put anything else on but the only pair of shorts he had. But
Hannibal surely didn't seem to mind.

In fact, the older man grabbed him harshly, pushing him into the cerulean water. Smashing their
lips together as they laid on the bottom of the sea, Will opened his eyes a bit, mesmerized by
Hannibal's silver blonde locks floating above him. He looked inhuman in the blue water, small
bubbles surrounding him. He'd wished he could keep them open longer, but the salt of the sea
began to burn.

After popping up from under the waves they started wrestling like kids, splashing around. Will
had gotten on Hannibal's back and they'd walked far into the water, til Hannibal could barely keep
his head up. Floating in the deep waters, Winston barking at them from the beach.

As they kneeled on the sand, finally in the shallow shore Will wrapped his arms around
Hannibal's neck, and they finally stopped to catch their breath as the sun went down. "I can't
believe we're here. Never thought I'd even leave Louisiana."

"I can't believe you're here with me, mylimasis."

Hannibal never thought he could get Will like this, wet and pressed against his chest. Biting on
his lip and sucking the blood off his tongue. Rolling around in the sand and drinking cocktails.
Will looked stunning, his eyes blue as the sea and grinning with the big goofy smile he only gets
after a few drinks.

Their lips seemed to blend, just as their minds did, tasting the salty water on each other's mouths.
Hands tangled in wet hair for seemingly days as the sky turned lilac.

Hannibal had to slap himself a few times, realizing this man who was playing around in the
water with him was the same one who had Jack's liver between his teeth last night. Who'd sent
someone to pin him like Jesus on the cross and bleed out. God, Hannibal was so in love with this
vicious beauty.

They stayed on the beach for hours, watching the moon rise. It was picturesque and peaceful.
Hannibal wished they could go out, get some good food and he could spoil Will a bit at the shops,
get his mind off everything. But for now, hiding away in the jungle with his little monster was
perfectly okay with him.

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