Chapter Text
What an absolutely humiliating turn of events, Hannibal chided himself for the hundredth time. Will might be a profiler, but at least he had his illness to absolve him of his near-fatal lack of hindsight. What excuse did he have?
Nothing.
He had no excuse.
Except for the distraction of a pair of pretty blue eyes that looked like the sea before a storm. Blue eyes, not green eyes like Michelle's had been before she'd been picked apart by her own design, and what a beautiful image that had made. Shame he had not been able to sit back and enjoy it without pretense.
But soon…soon indeed. The time for pretense was rapidly ending; however, those dangerous blue eyes of Will’s needed to remain closed for a little while longer.
They laid in Will’s bed after the fight, half-dressed and tangled up in each other's limbs. A gust of damp air blew through the open portcullis and pricked at the skin of Will’s bare chest and arms. It clawed at the flecks of drying blood and fish guts, clinging to the hairs of his forearms and raised gooseflesh across his naked torso. Hannibal lay wholly absorbed by the sight while his beloved burrowed deeper into his chest to escape the breeze. He was at peace thinking of Will as such, his beloved—HIS beloved—and beloved Will was, despite how he currently reeked of fish guts and salt tears.
Seeing Will transform into the lethal warrior Hannibal had only glimpsed through the crooked stitching of Will’s mild-mannered person suit had given Hannibal a new understanding and appreciation for the beast that dwelt in Will’s breast. During the Minnesota Shrike case, Hannibal had arrived too late to witness Will gun down Garrett Jacobs Hobbs, and had assumed Will had hemmed and hawed his way through it like he did through most of his decisions. But now, having witnessed the execution of Michelle Hendrix, Hannibal had been forced to rethink his position on guns and Will in general. In the moment before the trigger was pulled, Hannibal had felt a pure and ruthless energy uncoil inside Will causing him to appear less like a mongoose and more like a cobra.
The kill itself was quick and clean, but Will’s transition back into himself was slower and more liquid. Wrapped around Will’s body as he had been, Hannibal was present for every wave of those changes as Will’s nerves reconnected and his values returned. It was a remarkable thing to experience secondhand and more intimate than Hannibal would have thought possible given the instrument involved in the killing. At the very least, getting Will to kill again with a gun and the protection of his badge would certainly be easier, and now, Hannibal knew it could be quite enjoyable too!
He picked up Will’s hand and gently turned it over so he could inspect his palm and fingertips. They were thickly calloused and lightly scarred by oddly shaped puncture marks which Hannibal assumed were made either fish hooks or dog bites. They were the rough hands of a killer and yet capable of a surprisingly gentle touch. He raised Will’s fingers to his lips and kissed the tips, grimacing when he pulled away. ‘He still tastes like fish,’ Hannibal thought with a deep set frown, even after all the washing. Fish and gun oil, how awful. Why was it always something? If God bore Hannibal any grudge for his good works on Earth, he or she had a truly obnoxious way of showing it.
Will had been nearly catatonic after the shot. He spoke not a word nor did his breathing change from the shallow steady cadence of a man resolved in action and accomplishment as Hannibal brought him below to clean up. He made Will strip down to the waist, and washed what gore he could from Will’s body before tucking him into his own bed. He had not intended to climb in after him; Will’s bed sheets being generally filthy and pungent as a result of his mysterious night sweats, but then Will grabbed him by the leg, right behind his knee, and silently refused to let go. Hannibal then removed his own shirt, which was similarly over-ripe and covered in fish guts, and tossed it into the next room. When it was clear that he intended to stay, Will released him, scooted closer to the wall to make room and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost as soon as Hannibal had laid down and put his arms around him. Still groggy from the sedative, Hannibal had expected to follow Will into sleep, but with Will at last in his embrace and so soft and pliable too, Hannibal couldn't keep his eyes closed or his hands off him.
He tucked Will’s hand against his chest and moved next to play with his curls and remove any fish scales he found. Every movement had to be soft and light lest the over stimulation wake Will, which was delightful in its own way. Hannibal had not had the motive or opportunity to be soft towards anyone since parting from his Aunt Murasaki.
“Every day could be like this,” he whispered and kissed the top of Will’s head, forgetting again about the fish guts. “Every day if you let it, Will,” he said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
But would Will allow it if he knew all of Hannibal’s secrets? Doubtful as things looked now, Hannibal didn't think the day was very far off when Will might decide differently. Hannibal had proved to himself that he could make Will take a life under the right set of conditions and observed Will reveling in his own darkness during his episodes of unconsciousness, but until both things occurred at the same time and place, Hannibal knew he must keep his true desires hidden.
Will’s heartbeat began to quicken as he roused from heavy slumber, so Hannibal closed his eyes and adopted the posture of a dreamer while he waited for Will to wake on his own. He felt Will’s body buck the minute he opened his eyes, surprised who he was waking up beside, as Hannibal “slumbered” on with one arm draped across Will’s chest.
“Hannibal?” Will asked meekly. “Are you awake?”
Hannibal made a grouchy face and pulled Will closer still pretending to sleep. Will bucked again, and this time accidentally kneed Hannibal in the groin. Hannibal moaned and released his tight hold allowing Will to roll slightly away. He couldn't go very far trapped as he was between Hannibal’s body and the bulkhead.
“Sorry! I'm sorry! You startled me. Oh geez, are you okay?”
Hannibal adjusted himself and shook off any remaining traces of annoyance lest he ruin the mood by appearing sour. “Alive and well. How are you?”
“Michelle?”
“Dead. Do you not remember?” Hannibal asked in genuine alarm. This trip would be all for naught if Will did not remember the final fight.
“I remember. I was hoping it was another nightmare.” Will said hiding his guilt by avoiding eye contact.
Hannibal placed his hand on Will’s hip and stroked the bare skin above the waistline of his shorts with his thumb. “You saved us, Will, and killed a serial killer. You have nothing to feel remorseful for.”
Will’s eyes darted to Hannibal’s hand. “A serial killer who you slept with may I remind you.”
It was a good jab, but performative. It lacked the subtle sour flavor of Will’s everyday malice; however, the normality of their standard banter allowed Will to take control back from the other hungers of his heart, which Hannibal sensed he needed right now. So despite his many feelings on the matter of Michelle Hendrix, Hannibal forced himself to endure the gentle chiding and attack on his good taste.
“Yes...well, no one is perfect, myself included.” It was still profoundly galling to have been duped so completely by that Jezebel. He should have known she was up to something. He should have! ‘Enjoying yourself, Hannibal? It's almost like you want to be eaten alive,’ he recalled her saying while they lay in bed together, before she had raked him over with her teeth. ‘I can do that for you, you know.’ Hrmph! What nerve! It was far less enjoyable being on the other side of a veiled confession.
“How are you feeling?” Will asked mistaking Hannibal’s annoyance for melancholy.
“Isn't that my line?” he joked, but Will did not smile back.
“I killed her, Hannibal, a woman you were fond of even if she did try to kill you later. I killed her and I...I enjoyed it. How can you stand to be like this with me?”
“Be like what?”
“Stop teasing me.”
Hannibal inched closer and slid his hand up Will's back. “Be like what, Will?”
Will swallowed and tucked his arms beneath his head perhaps to keep himself from reaching back. “To be intimate. You know what I am. You have to know by now.”
“I know who you are,” he corrected, “and it is enough. I couldn’t even begin to explain why that is so, with your self-worth being what it is right now. But one day, Will, I hope you can look into the mirror and see even half the man I do.”
“God...that was...terrible. Really, the worst pick-up line ever.”
Will was a lean cut of meat, but Hannibal still found a pound of flesh to pinch in retaliation.
“Charming. Listen, Will, when we get back to Baltimore, there is a friend of mine I want you to see. He is a neurologist; Doctor Sutcliffe. I think he might be able to help you.
The light of hope sparked to life in Will’s eyes “Wait, you mean there’s a possibility what's wrong with me is not mental illness?”
“No, it is definitely mental illness, but your fevers concern me. I'd like to be sure that you are physically whole and well before we tackle the rest of your issues in therapy,” Hannibal said. Besides, he had other means now to bind Will to him that would be much more pleasurable than letting this illness run its course. It was risky of course, but Hannibal had decided that he could no longer sit back and watch Will suffer. He had become too dear and too valuable. Sick as he was, Will had seen what Hannibal had not, even if Will hadn't realized WHAT he had seen. Will had always hated Michelle for reasons which had not ever been clear to Hannibal. Then there was Will’s gut instinct that the shark had been female—right gender, wrong killer—and he had done all of this while suffering from this strange malady that was burning him up from the inside out. Yet once healed, Will would become stronger, much stronger than he was now, and soon able to see past Hannibal's illusions in due time.
“Oh,” Will said with a disappointed sigh punctuating his sentence.
“It will be okay, Will,” Hannibal said and genuinely wished he could believe it himself. How soon would Will's mind begin to gather the breadcrumbs which would lead him to Hannibal’s dinner table in one form or another? And be it as a guest or an entree, Will would come. Hannibal had no doubts about that. He was too sharp and smart to turn away from the evidence forever if his mind was not dulled by the constant pain of his illness. But God, grant him permission to keep Will by his side. Will’s instincts and uncommon insight would make him the choicest ally and companion. There were no limits to the the chaos they could sow together.
“Where are we?”
“Still anchored. I have not had the chance to look for the spare keys.”
“Just radio the Coast Guard for a tow. We shouldn't be moving things around. This is a crime scene now.”
Hannibal threaded one leg through Will’s and propped himself up onto one elbow. “I'm happy to leave things exactly where they are.”
“Um, but...WE should probably move around a little.” Will was blushing as he spoke, all too aware of what was pressed against his leg.
“Ohhhh?” Hannibal said with a predatory smirk. He rubbed the part of Will's back where he had pinched him and intermittently dragged his fingernail across the tender flesh suggestively. “I like the sound of that too.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”.
“Didn't you now?” Hannibal chuckled and raised his knee slowly until he felt Will’s own erection against his thigh.
Will’s cock jerked with interest but he maintained the party line. “We should call the Coast Guard. Let’s go, Hannibal.”
“Indeed we shall, but there is one thing I’d like to do first if you will consent to it.” Hannibal rolled fully on top of Will, and nudged his legs open until their bodies fit comfortably together.
“Hannibal?”
“Will, I would like to kiss you if I may. That is all. Is that okay?”
Will stared up at a place on the ceiling over Hannibal’s right shoulder, eyes wide with indecision even as the rest of his body strained for the intimacy that was on offer. “Okay,” Will said at last and finally looked Hannibal in the eyes. His face looked so kind and innocent that Hannibal’s first instinct was to crush him, smash their lips together and overwhelm Will with his ardour. But through Will’s thick eyelashes, Hannibal saw dorsal fins swimming through the shadows of those cool irises warning him to caution. Appearances aside, Will was a monster like him, with a mind as dangerous as it was beautiful and burdened by virtue. If he knew Hannibal as Hannibal wished him to, Hannibal had no doubt he'd be next in line to be fed to the sharks. He needed to be cautious.
Hannibal picked up Will’s right hand and placed it on his own hip, conscious that Will would do well to be given the illusion of control. Then he threaded his fingers through Will’s other hand and pinned his arm to the mattress above Will’s head; all things being equal. He was coy in his advance and placed a line of gentle kisses along Will’s jawline before making his move. Will’s lips were chapped so Hannibal dragged his tongue across them to moisten them before kissing him...again... and again, soft and slow. Hannibal thought it was going rather well, but it suddenly got quite out of hand.
He had only a moment's warning before it happened, a tightening of Will’s hand on his hip, then Will surged up, mouth parted, and pressed back with startling need. As before, Hannibal thought he smelled the faint trace of ozone in the air beneath the smell of rotten tuna, but maybe it was only his imagination. Or maybe that's just who Will was, a storm on calm seas, both nimble and deadly.
He gripped Will’s hand tighter and pressed his full weight down on top of him to make him lie still. Will responded to this show of force by lowering his hand on Hannibal's hip and latching onto Hannibal's ass like a feral cat.
A sharp and surprising pain against his bottom lip caused Hannibal to gasp. He pulled back, releasing Will's hand so he could hold himself aloft and parse what had just happened. Will lay beneath him, his pupils blown wide with lust. A small red stain adorned the corner of his mouth, which Hannibal did not immediately recognize as his own blood.
“I remembered you liked teeth, Doctor Lecter,” Will said, chest heaving, with the same tone and timber he’d used to dispatch Michelle.
Hannibal stared at him, mouth agape, then he began to laugh. So much for subtlety. “Oh, my dear Will, you have no idea what you have just done.”
Will reached up and brushed the fringe of Hannibal’s bangs away from his face, then he laid his palm against the back of Hannibal’s neck. “Show me.”
‘In due time,’ Hannibal thought as he brought their mouths together once more. He did not restrain himself as before, and Will matched him in aggression. Soon it was not just their mouths that were engaged. They rolled their hips against each other as the boat bobbed up and down on the ocean, every thrust building towards the unspoken event that would make them nigh inseparable.
Finally, Hannibal could stand it no more. He reached down between their legs and sloppily began tearing at belts and buttons.
“Hannibal,” Will said hoarsely and shivered when Hannibal wrapped his hand around his dick and freed it from his shorts. “I'm not ready for sex.”
Of course, Will was not ready for sex. During their brief conversation about his sexuality, Hannibal had ascertained that Will would require a strong emotional bond to his partner before sex was on the table. As of now, their emotional connection was incomplete by design and circumstance and too new to allow for the consummation of their relationship. Nevertheless, there were other things they could do to strengthen the connection and certain truths that would not endanger the fictitious life of Dr. Hannibal Lecter M. D. “Don't be ridiculous. When I take you to bed it will be at a five-star hotel after I've wined and dined you on a spread that costs more than a week’s paycheck. This is a practicality. Neither one of us is in any fit state to receive guests when the Coast Guard arrives. Now, lie still, and enjoy it.” Hannibal ordered as he fussed with his bangs, which Will had parted to the wrong side.
“Nothing more?” Will laughed. “You fidgeted.”
“Hush, you.”
“Mmmm,” Will moaned impertinently, his eyes closed and mouth smiling.
Well, that would not do. “Will, look at me.”
Will blinked several times before forcing his eyes forward. The blue of his eyes was nearly swallowed whole by the pupil.
“Now, hold onto me,” Hannibal instructed, and Will obeyed by grabbing him by the shoulders.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect,” Hannibal groaned enjoying the slight pull of gravity that Will’s weight placed on his body. It made him feel like he was falling as they raced towards their climaxes, falling together into the salt sea.
When Will’s head rolled to the side or his eyes closed dreamily, Hannibal got his attention again with soft-spoken entreaties. Will being who and what he was, soon began to analyze Hannibal with that brilliant mind of his. He couldn’t help himself when forced to maintain direct eye contact for so long; his empathy being as natural a process to him as breathing. And the longer Will looked, the more clear one important truth became.
“You...care that much?” Will said in a hushed and nearly reverent voice.
“Yes,” Hannibal hissed raggedly and wished he could have made his voice gentler, but he was beyond that now. While Hannibal could not give Will everything in his heart, including the truth of his authentic self, he could give Will this and hope that this moment of honesty would be remembered and help win back the trust Hannibal would lose on the day of his inevitable betrayal.
“Me too,” Will offered in return.
Scholarly as Hannibal e was, it took only those two monosyllabic words to undo the mighty Chesapeake Ripper, slayer of men. Hannibal came and Will followed him shortly over that edge. They rocked against each other through the aftershocks until they were both thoroughly spent. Hannibal wiped his hand clean smearing their semen across Will’s chest and grimaced at so obvious a mistake. It was another tell, a marking behavior resulting from his possessive nature, but one he already knew about; unlike the fidgeting. Ordinarily, he made efforts to control the catlike and compulsive behavior by expressing it through his fashion and home decor. But right now, Hannibal was too tired to reign in his coarser habits, since unlike Will, he had not had the luxury of a nap earlier.
“Gross,” Will complained.
“We smell like day-old sushi, Will, I hardly think it could be worse,” Hannibal said as he stretched out on top of Will and nuzzled at his neck. He still smelled of fish, but also of each other, and enough that Hannibal thought maybe he could sleep now.
One day when Will was healthy and whole would he remember this slip? Would it and all the other small mistakes Hannibal had made finally come together in his mind when it was not inflamed with fever? And most importantly, would he confront Hannibal alone with that dreaded knowledge or would he bring the Cavalry with him? Hannibal felt a momentary pang of regret that he could not be a softer man for Will since it was that harmless and well-mannered dandy he pretended to be, whom he thought Will might be falling in love with. But if he were just a doctor and Will were just a teacher, would they have found such a powerful connection within each other? Probably not. Blood and bone bound them together on this collision course, and blood and bone would either unite them or destroy them. There could be no compromise in this deadly game.
“Hannibal?”
‘Please, please, please, let me have him.’ Hannibal asked again of whatever higher power felt willing to grant him his heart’s desire. He had only once wanted anything as much as he wanted Will Graham, and as such, he was not sure how to cope with that uncertain future before them. “Please, Will, rest a moment longer. I find myself unwilling to get up right now”
“Unwilling or unable, old man?”
Hannibal bit Will on the shoulder, hard.
“Ouch! Stop that or I’m gonna start calling you Hannibal the Cannibal.” Will scolded and smacked him on the head.
Internally, Hannibal howled with laughter. Charming, beautiful, and funny, Will was everything a man could ask for and so much. ‘It looks like we both caught our maneaters in the end, my love.”