Alright :) for anyone interested in my last Hannibal fanfic post, this is that but turned into a whole chapter. I'll probably move it to AO3 once I've written more, but here's what I've got so fair!
He tasted sweet on Hannibal's lips. A honeysuckle sweetener layering an earthy richness. An enticing meal indeed.
Although chapped, Will's lips held a suppleness to them, drawing their receiver in for another bite.
Hannibal couldn't help it. The unfiltered rage that lashed at him when Will declared his advances on Alana and how she was "very kissable."
He drew back now, Will's eyes still held shut against Hannibal, the dip of his brow knotted in confusion.
Slowly, as Hannibal drew back, they unfurled. He was hit with the direct wave of Will's smokey blue eyes, confusion, and anger struggling for dominance over them.
"One could argue you too are very kissable," Hannibal announced.
A startled laugh broke forth from Will. Hannibal couldn't help but envy the finger that now ran along his lips, disbelief swirling around the man.
"Did you just... kiss me?"
"I thought it appropriate. You kissed Alana as an attempt at stability and were met with in-understanding."
"So you thought you would kiss me to what? Show you “understand” me?"
Will passed around Hannibal's kitchen now, agitation heaving his step.
"No. I kissed you because I wanted to."
Will stopped his pacing at this. Eyes turning from the wall, he faced back to Hannibal.
"You wanted to?"
"Have for some time." Hands resting in his pockets Hannibal moved nearer, "I only apologise i did so without your consent."
"It's – I... I accept your apology."
Hannibal, within arms reach of Will, tilted his head incrementally, a smile playing at his lips, savouring the blush that had now worked its way across Will’s face.
"Thank you."
* * * *
Will couldn't remember driving back to Wolftrap and, for once, was unconcerned with the lost time.
Hannibal lingered like red wine on his lips, dizzying the senses.
He ignored the mantle place and the bricks surrounding it, favouring the safety of his own kitchen. He would patch it up later.
How he had gone from kissing no one in over a year to two in a night, he had no idea. Alana had tasted sweet, floral almost, and her lips were soft, cushioned with her lipstick. Hannibal, on the other hand…
His lips were just as soft but held a firmness to them, the sensation similar to a surprisingly stern handshake.
Sweetness from desert had wafted around the kitchen, adding complexity to their kiss. Hannibal was a rich spiced wine steeped in sweetness. The touch of his tongue still rested on the tip of his lips.
Because I wanted to. Have for some time.
How long was "some time," Will wondered. How long had he been unaware of Hannibal's feelings.
Were they feelings? Or had Hannibal simply just wanted to kiss Will.
Curious as to what might happen...
* * * *
Sleep claimed Will in unsteady hands. Grasping him weakly, dropping him near hourly.
It was seven past eight when he got the call, Jack had another case for him.
Despite knowing the carnage he was undoubtedly on his way to, he welcomed the destruction. Longed to drop his mind and hide in another.
More than once on his drive to the crime scene did Will catch his thoughts trailing after last night. The force Hannibal had used to seize him, strong hands encasing his lower jaw and upper hip, daring a kiss and then releasing him.
Catch and release, he thought idly. Hannibal had shown his hook, given himself away to the fish. But did the fish want to be caught?
Did the fish have any interest in the lure and, if so, what would become of him once caught?
"A professional curiosity," Alana had said, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Hannibal felt the same. He was adamant that their sessions were nothing more than conversations between friends. No professional lining backing their time spent together.
Regardless, Hannibal was and always would be a psychiatrist. Just as Will was and always will be a lure in his own right.
By the time he reached the crime scene, Will had replayed last nights events another eight times and debated Hannibal’s intentions more so. The images of it faded away, however, as he walked the beach to Jack.
Behind him stood a totem pole of bodies. All seeming to range between states of decay, the freshest still weeping blood down on the others.
“The headpiece seems to be the only recent victim. The others are years, even decades old, and we know that at least seven were buried out here.” Jack's voice plays in the background as Will circles the totem pole with purpose.
Purpose. What was yours?
This is the last thing Will remembers himself thinking before stepping through the pendulum.
And before waking up outside Hannibal’s office.
