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Hannibal wept. That reaction was something he had not expected. He seemed so touched by Willâs suggestion, as if he was a martyr, as if he was Christ himself surrendering to crucifixion. In a way, that was exactly what he was doing. He was giving himself to...
Will had not lured Hannibal into some sort of trap. This was no rouse, no game of cat and mouse. His damaged mind had been damaged and bent enough that his gift of love and devotion was a true gift. He wanted to give him a piece of himself, have Hannibal devour him. In the cannibalistic sense, it would be the ultimate sign of sacrifice. Hannibal would have him completely, he would suck away what was left of Willâs power over himself. Such a devotee was he.
He only nodded as he told him things would be prepared for whenever he decided to give his kidney. In those moments he liked hearing only their breathing, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He almost thought that he was doing this to see how shocked, could he rock Hannibal off his mighty pedastal, and in some way he did. Reaching up he dragged his nails up from his neck and into his hair, gliding into his scalp for a slight massage of his head. He hoped he wouldnât be chastised, wouldnât be punished as it were for taking liberties since they were still in their play. But he craned his head upward and placed a kiss to his lips. He lovingly took that thinner upper tier into his mouth and found he could only speak softly.
â I love you. â
