goremade › hannibal lecter.
to share the moon at all would have sufficed.
hannibal would have asked no more than to drink in the ethereality of will graham’s beauty; the meager taste itself would have filled his belly, but the ache would remain, throbbing like an opened wound. he throbs like this now, as will bends to his touch, sensitive to it.
❝ I know you would, dear boy. I can feel your body & blood singing for me. you’re body is bracing for impact. your thighs have been quivering since i’ve laid my hands on you. your confession pleases me, nonetheless. ❞ laughter, strained into a whisper. hannibal can feel his mouth pull into a smile.
❝ so there will be bloodshed. with or without a fight. in that case, i might just fight for my life. ❞
hannibal’s eyes close. he imagines the stigmata of will’s religion piercing through him like prayer, sharp and full of promise. the smile washes into a hazy look of bliss, mouth opening slightly, jaw relaxed.
in the end, it isn’t will’s lure that punctures through the man’s reverie but his teeth, wicked, unforgiving when it devolves into pleading suckling, pulling blood to the surface of hannibal’s lips broken skin - the sensation is not unlike being stabbed.
the area of his affection burns. it pulls hannibal up from the surface from where he floats, anchoring him to will; again. he responds with the flick of his tongue to will’s top lip, lapping at his front teeth, coaxing him open the only way will would allow him.
less than a kiss, more of a meeting of teeth and gums. hannibal’s fingers dig into the meat of will’s hips, interrupted before he can further return his hunger. when he stills, hannibal realizes that he’s breathless. his heart jumps in his chest.
the world slows to a stop as he watches will. there’s not but a few inches between both men, yet hannibal is absorbed, completely, chin tucked to his chest.
one step back and the moon fully absorbs his boy, the tan hue of his flesh now grey and his scars an off white. all of him, from his hardening cock to the puckered flesh under his navel, hannibal knows he has seen all of this before. but under the full moon, with the smell of the sea so perfectly present, he can’t help but committing it all to memory. eventually, hannibal’s gaze returns to will’s eyes.
❝ do you know how long i’ve waited for you? ❞ all hint of past humor fades from the inflection of his voice. reaching forward, a hand comes to take will by the hand, pulling him into his body, cradling him into his arms.
❝ decades. my entire life. ❞ hannibal wraps both of his arms around will’s body, his large, soft hands running themselves down his flank until reaching will’s ass. his touch changes, grips into the flesh, pulling it apart; a single finger runs along the puckered flesh there, imagining himself there, hot and leaking. hannibal turns his head to press against will’s cheek, enjoying the feel of his course beard. his mouth opens, just slightly, and kisses his naked shoulder. a shiver runs through his body and he takes a moment before pulling back, returning the sentiment of pulling his silk sleep attire from his hips.
the fabric makes no noise as it slips to the marble under his feet. ❝ i wouldn’t want you anywhere else, will. ❞ palm up, hannibal extends his hand once more.
the words touch like a confession. one that Will has always suspected but never heard so bluntly. so earnestly. his next breath is a shuttered exhale, a small laugh. to think that the man before him, hands soaked in blood, has waited an entire life to take his & hold it close. Will knows it’s the same for him, though he is still unraveling what it means that Hannibal sees him even in the depth of his shadows. his darkness is the same haunting shade, the same peculiar shape & same taste. the entirety of his adult life was plucked & used to be someone else - but to be seen for once is a relief ; a breath released after holding it too long, vision spotty & near end. just on the brink of death is where he feels most alive, so it is no surprise that death itself, embodied by Hannibal Lecter, is a sacred sort of home. a mirror.
he sinks into Hannibal’s arms just as he did the day they slipped from the cliff edge, hands roaming over him with a hunger he’s grown to yearn. Will’s mouth slides across a hot throat, tasting Hannibal faintly on his lips. ❝ was it worth it ? ❞ he murmurs, curious. was it worth it to lose three years just to gain an entire life with Will? was it worth it to be stripped down to bare bones just for Will to see again?
he draws his head back just as Hannibal’s fingers brush against him, delicate but precise. the sting of arousal is beckoned from him like an insistent caress & Will’s eyes flutter close. he knows Hannibal must smell it on him, must hear the quiet exhale & see the slick of his tongue sliding across his bottom lip. if he were to glance down he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to hide the effect. ❝ i should have known you were trying to tell me with your letters. i did know, actually. i just didn’t want to believe it. ❞ Will pauses for a moment, the iron taste of blood still soaking his tongue when he hums. ❝ love seeketh itself not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease & builds a heaven in hell’s despair. is that what we’re building, Hannibal ? ❞
his eyes follow when Hannibal steps back to slip away his garments & Will sweeps his eyes appreciatively down & back up. there are multiple markings across Hannibal’s flesh, carved with memories that Will is hungry to unlock. when he takes Hannibal’s offered hand he leverages him close & walks them towards moonlight. ❝ i was always here in a way, ❞ & as he says it he knows it’s true. the drift of the soft, cool wind envelopes Will, eases his heated skin. ❝ not exactly like Wolf Trap, but you look. . . natural here. ❞
beautiful, he says to himself. the same beauty one feels looking upon the devil.
