Guys ik im not crazy I KNOW I POSTED THIS FIC BUT WHEN I SEARCH FOR IT IT DOESNT SHOW UP WTF
Anyway
Sweet William
Nsfw not gonna go into warnings bc its probably still on my blog *sigh*
He felt himself floating, numb, being pushed by a tide or current of some sort. His limbs ached, his senses dim and on fire. Suddenly he felt a rough scrape against him, and felt the pounding of ocean waves on him. He was still holding tight to his companion.
Will Graham spat sand out of his mouth as his eyes opened. His face felt scratchy, stingy. Everything tasted like salt. Was it the blood, or the saline in the water? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t even know if he was alive anymore. The other man, clutched tight in his arms, coughed once or twice, sputtered, then lolled back on the sand, his greying hair a nice contrast to the beach. Will looked up, half-expecting to see a totem-pole of bodies planted somewhere.
Nothing.
Just dune-grass, rocks, a little cliff of plants holding the sand and soil together. Just a regular beach, except… it was rougher and more rugged than most. Not like beaches in North America.
He slapped the face of his companion gently, trying to see if he was still alive.
“Doctor? Doctor?”
No response.
“Doctor!” Tears welled in Will’s eyes. Had he really clutched him for dear life, hoping and praying to a god he didn’t believe in anymore, all for nothing? Was he alone?
“Hannibal.”
The man’s brow furrowed, lips twitched. He wasn’t dead. Then those maroon eyes lifted their lids, and a fondness melted into them. “W-Will…” he murmured, before coughing again. He had some water in his lungs, but he was still alive. He sat up partway, hacking and coughing more, then looked at his beloved, cupped his sand-covered cheek in a broad palm.
“We’re alive.”
“I know, Hannibal… it’s a… a miracle.”
He smiled warmly, letting it reach his eyes, letting it melt Will’s heart. He watched the expressions play across his beloved’s face, then said, “Now the question is, my dear Will, where are we?”
Will staggered to his feet, almost falling over. His glasses were long-gone, not like he needed them anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t need them here. He coughed, spat up some water, felt like he was gonna vomit. A reassuring hand pressed to his back, guiding him to find his center of balance again.
“You’re going to be alright,” Hannibal’s soothing voice coaxed, “it’s alright, Will. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He nodded, shaking, quivering like cornered prey. “Th-thanks.”
He felt himself pulled closer, then pressed against his companion, his lover.
“You’re safe. I have you. No harm will come to you, sweet Will.”
Arms wrapped around Hannibal’s waist, squeezing him as if he would never let go. In a way, Will never would. Or could.
He petted Will’s back in long, reassuring strokes, cradling him in his arms as if he were the most precious thing in the world. To Hannibal, he was.
“Back to your question,” Will murmured into his shoulder, then looked up. “Where the fuck are we?” His eyes suddenly caught sight of something—a figure? Yes, a figure, in a white gown… standing. A woman? Perhaps.
“Hey, Hannibal,” he said, tugging at his shirt, “look.”
He looked, then froze. “Don’t move, Will,” he muttered, “they might be police.”
“Hello?” The voice called, high and melodic and feminine. A welcome sound to both their ears. The figure waved, then began her descent down the dunes.
“Ahoy there!” Will called, waving an arm. Hannibal smirked, clutched his lover’s free hand, squeezed hard. He was afraid, for once—no, anticipatory would be a better way to phrase it. But he felt it; he felt the fear.
The woman approached, stood about thirty feet away. She was blonde, and older, by the looks of her, and she was barefoot. Very simple clothing. Perhaps she was the only one here besides them.
“Hello!” She called again, keeping her distance. “You washed ashore, aye?”
They must be in Europe, her accent was somewhere between Scottish and Irish, and had a little Welsh and British cockney thrown in.
“Yes,” Will called, taking a step forward. Hannibal did not move, forcing him to stop. “We…”
“We fell,” Hannibal said, moving up beside Will.
The woman cocked her head to one side, then began to walk towards them, closing the distance. “From where?”
“A cliff,” Hannibal said.
“After a nasty fight,” Will added, “salt water probably did our wounds good.” He laughed nervously. It had been a while since he’d interacted with a fellow human being.
“Didn’t ye freeze yer arses off?”
“Oddly enough, we did not,” Hannibal said, puzzling the prospect over in his head. It didn’t need his attention; they were alive, that’s all that mattered.
She shrugged, then said, “Perhaps I ought to bring ye back to ‘is Lordship.”
“There are other people here, besides yourself?”
“Aye, aye. There’s a whole community of us pagans on this isle. Summerisle, this is,” she added, making a sweeping gesture. “Come, ye must be tired.”
Will nodded thanks, dragging the reluctant and skeptical Hannibal behind him. “C’mon,” he muttered through gritted, sandy teeth, “she said ‘pagans,’ how bad can that be?”
“It might be a trap, Will.”
“I doubt it.”
The woman led them to an old stone building, marked MORRISON, and they followed her inside. A small child sat, painting with watercolors. She turned to look at the strangers and smiled. “Hello,” she said politely.
“Hi,” Will said. He got an elbow to the ribs from Hannibal, and they followed the woman to a dining room.
“Make yerselves comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the chairs and table, “and I’ll have some tea ready for ye in a few minutes.”
Will sat and leaned back, still coughing a little. “What the hell,” he mused.
“I have no idea, my dear William,” Hannibal said, taking up a seat across the table from him.
“Don’t call me that. And why the fuck do you have to sit like that? It isn’t like we’re having our weekly sessions anymore.”
“Force of habit, Will. My apologies.” He didn’t get up.
The little girl wandered in, paint smudged on her apron and hands. “Hello,” she said, “I hope I'm not disturbin’ ye,” she added softly.
“Not at all,” Will said, not even looking up. With his head leaned back, he felt like someone was gonna cut his throat and shove a cello neck into his mouth and play him. No one did. The little girl simply sat at the table with them and looked from one to the other.
“Mum tells me ye were washed ashore,” she said, resting on her folded forearms.
“Yes,” Hannibal said softly, cocking his head to look at her, “we took a very long fall off of a cliff into the sea below, then we ended up here.”
“Why’d ye fall off the cliff?”
“He pulled me,” Will said spitefully, “it was his idea.” He was chuckling despite himself.
“Hush, sweet William.”
“Don’t call me that, you pr—” He stopped, not wanting to say “prick” in front of a child.
“…pretentious jerk.”
Hannibal chuckled, looked at Will, then back at the girl. He smiled; genuinely. He wasn’t going to etch anything onto his person-suit anymore. Now that Will had broken it and seen through to what he really was—a monster. He was going to slough off all that bullshit, cut the crap once and for all, and simply love Will with all of himself that he could.
“What’s yer name?” The girl asked at length.
“My name is Hannibal. And… that’s Will.” He nodded at his companion, who waved without looking at her.
“I’m Rosemary,” the girl said, smiling, “Hannibal’s a funny name.”
He smirked, surprised at her response. It was true, though.
“Wasn’t he a Roman? Who took elephants o’er the mountains someplace?”
He nodded, remembering his history. Nodded at what things rhymed with that name.
“I’m painting a deer, would you like to see?”
“Of course.” Hannibal got up, followed her to the living room, crouched beside her. Although he wasn’t very fond of children, or good at behaving accordingly around them, he was a sucker for art in any form. He looked at her crude watercolor painting of a whitetail stag, then said, “the proportions are very good. Is this from a reference, or memory?”
“Mem’ry,” Rosemary replied, “but there are a lot of deer out here. Must leap across the channel from the Mainland.”
He smiled, then said, “may I paint with you?”
“Of course, Mister Hannibal.”
“That’s Doctor, actually.”
“Oh. Excuse me, then, Doctor Hannibal.”
He smiled, then picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in the murky water. Bristles brushed the cake of watercolor, and he began painting. He preferred working in pencil, but this was just fine.
Will came to and stood in the doorway, watching Rosemary and Doctor Hannibal crouched over a small table, painting with watercolors. He couldn’t help but smile. He’d always loved kids, and seeing the love of his life being so genuine with a kid melted him, making his knees weak so he had to lean against the doorframe.
The woman who had brought them here came back with a tray and smiled at the two artists, then at the companion in the doorway. “Up already, are we?” She said warmly.
Will nodded, shaking a little. “Tea’s ready, Hannibal,” he said softly.
“I am aware.” He did not look up from his artwork. “I like mine steeped for a while anyway.”
He shrugged, then followed the woman back into the dining room, sat down. He was getting sand all over her hardwood floors.
“My name’s Ms Rose,” she said, pouring him a cup of tea, “and you are…?”
“Will Graham.” He swallowed hard, waiting for the cup to shatter. It did not.
“I hope the tea does ye some good, Mr Graham.” She stirred it with a little spoon, then asked, “Do ye take sugar or creamer with yer tea, Mr Graham?”
“Um… no, thank you. And… Will is… fine.”
“Of course.” Ms Rose smiled, then went back out to the two artists.
“Tea’s ready,” she said, rubbing Rosemary’s back.
Hannibal got up, smiled at his work. He had painted a twelve-point rack, in the shape of a wreath. Rosemary studied it before she followed him back to the dining room. She sat beside Will, and Hannibal took his place beside him. He took in the aroma of the tea, how it mixed with Will’s scents, and smiled. “It smells exquisite, Ms Rose,” he purred.
“Oh, thank ye,” she said, blushing, “I… I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet.”
“’is name’s Hannibal,” Rosemary said.
“Rosemary, please—”
“It’s alright,” Hannibal said, smiling, “it’s quite alright. I understand. Yes, my name is Hannibal.”
“That’s quite an unusual name ‘round ‘ere,” she said, sitting down, “we’re all named for plants an’ flowers.” She paused, then poured him some tea. “Sugar or creamer?”
“No, thank you. I like it plain.” He took a cup from her, sipped from it, eyed Will. He looked back, smirked, blushed. “Of course you like it plain,” he muttered.
“I like you plain, too,” he said.
Will looked at Rosemary, then at their host, and saw that they were undisturbed at their flirting. Hannibal liked to push Will’s buttons, push his boundaries, see how far he could go—especially around other people.
“The simpler, the better. There is more to enjoy when things are kept simple.” He eyed Ms Rose, then flashed his gaze at Will, who was blushing hard now, his teacup shaking in his hand.
“I must apologize for my companion’s behavior,” Will said abruptly.
“Oh no, nothin’ to apologize for, Mr G—Will.” Ms Rose smiled at him. “We’re very open about e’erything ‘ere—murder, sexuality, ye name it, we talk about it.”
“Oh.”
Hannibal smirked. “And I intend to keep things simple,” he added, a victorious expression on his face.
“Shut up,” Will snapped, blowing on his tea. “Jesus.”
“The son of god has no place ‘ere,” Ms Rose said casually.
“Sorry. I… I just… it’s my go-to. Sorry, ma’am.”
“It’s perfectly alright, Will. How could ye know?”
“She did say they’re pagans, Will,” Hannibal reminded him softly.
“Aye, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we don’t discuss… christianity.” She shuddered at the last word, as if it were something vile. She smiled at the pair, then looked at Rosemary, who was enraptured at Will’s use of the name.
“I believe that Jesus was a real person,” Hannibal said after a brief pause, “and I strongly believe in what he taught. I do not, however, believe that he was the Son of God.”
“Yeah right,” Will muttered, “‘do unto others as they do unto you’? You eat people.”
Ms Rose looked up, giving them both the side-eye.
“Sorry.”
“I have decided that I am going to abandon my ‘well-tailored person-suit,’ as Bedelia once put it, and embrace the fact that I have developed a taste for human flesh over the years.” He sipped his tea.
Will put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s quite alright,” Ms Rose said, “as long as the deaths are quick and merciful, we don’t judge. Unless, of course, ye mean as sacrifice.”
“I do not engage in ritualistic cannibalism,” he purred, “I do it because my appetite demands it. However, I believe I will make my… deaths… much more merciful than they were.”
“So you’re resigning from sadism?” Will asked, the bags under his eyes prominent.
“To a degree, yes, unless of course you enjoy my sadistic side, sweet William.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Sweet William is one of me favorite flowers,” Rosemary piped up, “I think it’s very fittin’ for ye, Mr Graham.”
He blushed, then glared playfully at Hannibal. “Bitch,” he mouthed.
~~~
Lord Summerisle paced his hall, awaiting the two newcomers—the new strangers. He wasn’t unwelcoming to strangers, but he hoped that they were not nearly as judgemental as most who came to his little island. A knock was heard at his door, and before he had a chance to even call for him, Broome answered it. Will was braced on Hannibal’s arm, breathing a bit unsteadily. He wasn’t used to the rough ride of a governess cart, but he’d get used to it soon enough.
“Ah, these must be the newcomers,” Summerisle boomed, stepping forward. Hannibal eyed his suit, his wild hair, the interior decoration. He smirked, then guided Will up the steps into His Lordship’s foyer.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a couple of plush, baroque chairs. They took the couch opposite them, Will leaning on Hannibal’s shoulder, fingers interlaced so their knuckles blanched. They weren’t going to lose each other again.
“How did you… come to this island?” Summerisle asked.
“We washed ashore after a rather nasty fall,” Hannibal said, nuzzling Will’s hair, "preceded by a fight. We fell from a cliff, into the sea.”
Will’s fingers loosened on their grip of his lover’s hand, but did not release. He nuzzled up under his chin, sighed.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been terribly rude,” His Lordship said, adjusting his blazer. He was always fond of public displays of affection, and seeing them displayed by a homosexual couple aroused him beyond his normal bounds. “My name is Lord Summerisle; I am the leader of this community, and I humbly bid you welcome to it.”
“Thank you,” Will murmured, kissing Hannibal’s neck, “I’m Will Graham.”
“My name is Hannibal,” his companion said coolly. “I’m a doctor.”
“Do you… practice medicine?” Summerisle leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I used to,” he said, “I used to work in the emergency room as a surgeon… but then I turned my sights to psychiatry, and that’s how I met Will.” He cradled his lover’s head in one hand, kissed his scalp, inhaling his scent. “He is the love of my life.”
“Awwww, Hanni…” Will nuzzled him, squeezed his fingers again. His face was red-hot now, and Summerisle noted he was blushing hard. It made him happy, seeing these two so perfectly matched. He wondered briefly if there was room for him.
“If you like, you may stay here for the night,” he said, rising, “I have a spare bedroom, and I’ve been rather lonely recently. Besides, the inn is all full-up.”
“Thank you very much,” Hannibal said, petting Will’s hair, “we would be more than happy to take you up on that offer. Isn’t that right, darling Will?”
“Mmhmhm… yes.” He was melting in the doctor’s embrace, flustered and cozy and blushing. He didn’t care. “Maybe I can finally get to sleep with you,” he added in a murmur, hoping His Lordship wouldn’t hear it. He did.
“I shall inform Broome not to disturb you, in that case,” he said, walking to the steps up into the parlor, “no matter what he may hear tonight.”
Hannibal chuckled; Will squirmed, frowning. “Dammit,” he muttered.
“I must inform you, My Lord,” Hannibal purred, “that we are both criminals.”
“Are you currently on the run?” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“If we are welcome here, then no.”
“Are you plotting crime now—as we speak?”
“No. If we are welcome here, we will have no need to.”
“He’s a cannibal,” Will blurted.
“Ah.” Summerisle turned his back to the pair, hopped up and down on his toes for a moment, then said, “you wouldn’t… eat any of my community, would you? I cannot allow that.”
“No no, of course not, My Lord,” Hannibal said, “perhaps… just trespassers? Blundering mainlanders who are, hmmm, shall we say, impolite?”
“Hmm. Yes, perhaps that can be arranged. I can live with that.” He spun around on his heel, looked the doctor square in the eye. “But if you harm any of my community, I will have you executed.”
Hannibal nodded once, then turned to Will. “The same goes for you, sweet Will.”
“Yes, Doc.”
~~~
The enormous, double canopy bed was made of dark oak or ebony, and Will couldn’t stop admiring it. Hannibal, on the other hand, was quite used to the luxury. He drew the maroon velvet curtains closed on three sides, left them open on the left side so he could admire Will in his usual t-shirt and boxers.
“You look stunning, darling,” he purred, smiling. Genuine; it went to his eyes, which matched the velvet curtains to an uncanny degree. “I’ve always thought so, but tonight you look… perfect.”
“You’re not gonna eat me, are you?”
Hannibal chuckled. “Of course not, sweet Will… at least, I won’t serve you to someone on a silver platter.”
Will’s eyes flared at the proposition, then said, “…but you’d eat me… the other way?”
“If you wish. It is my desire to please you. It pleases me when you are happy, when you are at ease, in ecstasy—”
“Come here.” He patted the mattress beside him, desire burning in his eyes.
Hannibal obeyed, slid into bed beside him.
“Close the curtains.”
Hannibal obeyed, smiling the entire time. The velvet curtains slid shut, and immediately Will’s boxers were around his ankles.
“Mmm… sweet William…” Hannibal pushed his t-shirt up, exposing his chest. He ran his hands over him, palming his nipples, tracing his fingers over his ribs. Will was panting, breaking out in sweat already. To top it all off, he was rock-hard. His lips danced over Will’s sternum, making his breath hitch.
“Oh, fuck, Doc,” he panted, biting his lower lip, “keep goin’.” His southern drawl slipped out, only arousing Hannibal further. He kissed his way down the center of his belly, then paused near his navel. He sucked a little of Will’s skin between his lips, then bit a roll of skin, making him yelp. It was so deliciously painful, it was sharp and achy and perfect, and he felt powerful over Hannibal, commanding him with words alone.
Will slid a hand down and gripped Hannibal by the hair, making the doctor moan. Will pushed him further down, teeth pulling against skin, making Will’s cock twitch and throb.
“Yes, Hanni,” he breathed, “keep—keep goin’. That’s it—fuck…”
The doctor nuzzled Will’s hip-bones, then kissed him where his pubic hair began.
“Fuck you—don’t tease, darlin’.”
His back arched when Hannibal’s tongue met his leaking tip. His hips bucked up hard, braced on his elbows, panting harder than ever now. “Fuuuuuuhuhuhuck,” he moaned, trying to find friction against his tongue, “fuck… need your m-mouth…”
He obliged, enveloping his sweet Will with his lips, dragging his tongue across his shaft, making him see stars. “FUCK! YES!” Will was in complete and utter ecstasy, and Hannibal had only just taken him in his mouth.
“Mmm… you taste good, Will…” the vibration of his voice shot up into Will’s pelvis, making his back arch again. He dug his right hand into the sheets, fingers blanching as he knotted up the bedding below him. His left hand tugged harder at Hannibal’s hair, making him moan harder and bite down a little.
Will yelped, a ragged moan escaping him as the doctor’s teeth pressed to his perineum. “FUCK—”
He composed himself as best he could, shaking and grinding against Hannibal’s mouth, then pleaded, “take me… further…”
Hannibal humored him, relaxing his esophagus, accepting the bulk of Will further down his throat, until his head pressed against his soft palate, and pushed further. He gagged a little, but didn’t complain. Will was his to please, his to satisfy, his to fulfill—his to make whole again. He didn’t mind the drool, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes from the stretch. It was all worth it for his beloved.
Hannibal’s fingers dug into Will’s hips, pinning him as best he could, but no such luck—he resorted to his nails, making Will twitch and throb and jerk in his mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes…” he chanted between panting moans, “yes… just like that… perfect… fuck, you feel so good, Hannibal…”
The doctor’s sensitive nose finally nuzzled up into Will’s pubic hair, inhaling his scent, feeling warm and safe and cozy. He hummed satisfaction, and that tipped Will over the edge.
He didn’t care that he bucked up against Hannibal’s throat, that he was using him, that he was at Will’s mercy; or that he was gagging on him. All Will wanted was release, and satisfaction. And that is exactly what Hannibal gave him; calmly swallowing everything he spurted down his throat, relishing his flavors on the back of his tongue; a sensation to store away forever.
With each gentle swallow, he sucked at Will a little, dragging him further and further along in his orgasm, until he was finally done spilling down Hannibal’s throat. He kept his mouth around him until he was completely limp, then released him and licked his lips, groaning happily.
“Mmm… Will.” He crawled over his lover, rested his head on his chest. “You taste exquisite. Better than all the others combined.” He began petting his hair.
“Combined?” Will was still breathless, feeling those neurons firing despite the lack of sensation. The deep and infinite warmth was enveloping him, and so was Hannibal’s embrace. He chuckled. “That’s high praise, Doctor.” His fingers slid down Hannibal’s back, raising goosebumps over his skin.
A long, lingering, biting kiss on the neck made him whine. “You are most welcome, my sweet Will. And I really mean that. I love you, Will.” Fingers tangled in his brown curls.
Will nuzzled Hannibal’s cheek, bit his ear a little; dragged his fingers over his spine, down his spina bifida, squeezed his lower back lovingly. “I love you too, Hannibal.”
Warm breath on Will’s neck. “I can’t wait to become a pagan.”
“Me neither.”
Basking in the afterglow, they both drifted off to sleep. No police would find them, no one would arrest them; they could eat wrongful and rude travelers when they set foot on the island, and they would live in peace, with each other, in paradise.
