#lookingalone

[delectablelecter]

The Losing Cause Pleases Me | lookingalone

First, Will Graham disappeared - missing, presumed dead after some time. His car remained, and his dogs. There was no trace he'd left willingly.

Distraught over the loss of his friend, Hannibal Lecter closed his office soon after, with other, bigger things in mind. He cut off contact with the FBI (as he could no longer bear to watch his friends in such danger as to disappear without a trace), and moved.

The Doctor enjoyed Japan quite a bit - he respected the taste for aesthetic that the Japanese possessed, as well as their talent for food presentation. It was so easy to make a Japanese meal look beautiful, even something so simple as a hearty stew with milk, potatoes, and carrots.

An excellent winter dish, set atop the kotatsu that Lecter's housemate napped underneath, along with spoons and chopsticks for each of them, bowls of rice, and warm sake - nothing that would affect Will's sedatives too adversely.

The medication was merely to keep him agreeable and not as... volatile as he might otherwise be. The warmth of the heated table helped with that, too, and the steam from the stove in the kitchen. Traditional Japanese houses, for all their elegance, did not hold heat particularly well - but the paper walls were so beautiful against the snow outside, and the tatami floors so pleasing to feel under the bare foot or the tabi sock.

Summers spent in the Japanese countryside were beautiful months, and Will would surely enjoy them.

Hannibal sat down across the kotatsu, and gave a light touch to Will's knee, where it protruded from under the quilt. "Will. There's a bowl of stew for you on the table, if you're hungry. You might want to hurry before it cools."

[ilmxstro]

[[kissing meme. go look at your tag to understand]] Will's eyes fluttered as he looked from Hannibal's eyes to his lips several times. This was not how he had intended his night to go, but one small kiss couldn't do any damage, right? Graham leaned in, allowing the tip of his nose to brush against Hannibal's before he turned and pressed their lips together.

Dr. Lecter received kisses the way a man accepts a blow to the face from a drunkard. Stoic and unmoving in those first few seconds out of a calm sense of patience with William, he allowed the boy his tender moments, there, and perhaps even a sense of icy dread as he failed to reciprocate in those fleeting and few seconds that drained out of the both of them like sand in an hourglass. But, of course, he would be damned if he did not explore this new facet of the empath; that so begged and pleaded for his approval like an abused child from his father. Dr. Lecter amused himself with the idea of being Graham's homme fatale, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear like a vampire in the dark with all four of their hands slick with blood and poor William's tongue trembling in the blackness of their shared contact when he finally understood.

But more interesting to him than idle fantasies was the fact that as he stood quite still, hands at his sides, he found himself enamored with the idea of returning such innocent and naive displays of affection. Oh, like curious boys fumbling in the schoolyard after a lesson on old Greeks who never dared bat a lash when two men shared intimacy. Except, perhaps, Dr. Lecter never did waste time with those curious and nervous feelings of uncertainty, perhaps even giddiness. Oh, Will Graham, what were you thinking?

Dealing with Graham was easy in those proceeding moments because Dr. Lecter was quite familiar with what the boy needed. Some form of stability -- some anchor to keep him tethered to any real and tangible sense of reality. One hand on the boy's cheek was a tender display and the cannibal pulled away only a fraction of an inch out of a feigned sense of uncertainty, perhaps surprise, before looking between Graham's eyes as if searching for silent approval, though he didn't care a bit as to whether or not he might find it there. He knew he had it.

So there it was. He leaned back toward his remarkable boy and pressed his own little kiss there, chaste and close-lipped, the shape of his wrist delicate in the way he held the young man by that single touch alone.

Will Graham's lips were hot. Burning, in fact. Like the mark of Cain against Lecter's mouth, even as he straightened and ended the exchange, he felt it tingling where they'd touched.

He wondered what nightmarish beast would follow Graham that night -- if it would stand on four legs, or two.

It was in that precise moment that Dr. Hannibal Lecter decided that, when their game came to an end, he would eat Graham's hot, red heart. 

[ilmxstro]

✍

My Dearest Will,

Please, excuse the stationery. Chilton does not seem to understand the irony of affording me naught but butcher paper upon which to write.

But allow me to skip the pleasantries.

It occurs to me that, as you chase this shy boy of ours down, your fear is not for those of whom whose lives are at stake. Future Leedses and Jacobis don’t bother you, though it feels as though they should. Your empathy does not extend in that particular direction, does it ,Will?

No, your fear is for your own family.

And what a shame it would be to see yourself, truly desired, in the deadened mirrors of their eyes.

~ H

PS:My regards to Ms. Lounds. I’m pleased as a peach to hear you’re collaborating once again. 

[ilmxstro]

"Disappointment is not something new to me, Dr. Lecter."

"From others or yourself? From what I can see, Will, nobody has reason to be disappointed in you. You are an accomplished professional with a respectable position in the law enforcement community. Defeatism does not suit you."

[ilmxstro]

Graham sat in front of the doctor with a puzzled look. His thoughts had come to a stop the moment Hannibal had begun speaking a different language, one Will did not have the time to learn himself. "Excuse me?"

"A young man from Louisiana who does not speak French? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You had the chance of a lifetime to broaden your linguistic scope, and you chose against spending a little time with the Creoles. I am disappointed, Will."

[ilmxstro]

Huh?

Ils disent que le français est la langue le cœur parle. Je vais laisser si oui ou non c’est la vérité pour que vous décidiez.