#a very well tailored person suit ; hannibal lecter

[pesky--dust]

Excuse me. I may be dumb, but in ... and the Woman Clothed in Sun, we have Bedelia and Will’s conversation about their relationship with Hannibal and it’s going like:

“Bedelia: I wasn't myself. You were. Even when you weren't, you were.

Will: I wasn't wearing adequate armor.

Bedelia: No. You were naked.”

Bedelia tells Will also: “I was with him behind the veil. You were always on the other side.”

I see that people usually understand is that Bedelia was behind the veil with Hannibal when Will never got the chance. 

But when I first heard it, the way I understood it was Bedelia was using a defense mechanism to deal with Hannibal, and Will wasn't, because with Hannibal, Will had a chance to be who he really was, that’s why he ended being covered with scars.

And when it comes to: “I was with him behind the veil. You were always on the other side.” I understood it was Bedelia was behind the veil with Hannibal for a while, when Will had always been behind the veil, just like Hannibal, Will is wearing a very well tailored person suit, that's why he was always on the other side.

Can someone tell me if these words can be understood that way, or am I just really stupid to understand it like that?

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #murder husbands #bedelia du maurier #... and the woman clothed with sun #hannibal ... and the woman clothed with sun #hannibal s03e10 #hannibal season 3 #very well tailored person suit #person suit #pesky--dust thoughts

[omniishambles]

A lil birthday gift for @imprvdente 🥳

#the dark between the stars ; the lecter family #my art #& fish lecter #a very well tailored person suit ; hannibal lecter

[jamneuromain]

Until the Next Time

Hannibal Lecter x Original Female Character (Esther)

Warning: Inappropriate Behavior, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Therapy Session, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, degradation kink if you squint, MINORS DNI

Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Hannibal was meeting with his personal psychiatrist to try his personal therapy.

“How are you feeling compared to the last time?” She asked casually while observing her patient with great attentiveness. It was not that a question this plain would randomly occur during her counseling session. It was the other way around. She would ask almost everyone this question, but the reaction she got from him was far more valuable and intriguing than the rest. For she rarely got any. In this particular case, she was maybe just a bit disappointed. He always said he was good. Or better off the next time. Or both.

“I am good.” He chose his words very carefully, his face remaining plain and calm, the same face as he came in and sat down comfy in the chair five minutes ago. He wanted to leave an impression that he was still humane. Or still got a bit of humanity inside, at the very least. Hannibal was not certain whether he could trick her into thinking so, but as expertise, as he was, he could not tell from her face. He despised the way the Bureau required a mandatory psychiatrist intervention after a certain period. The same goes for him, being a psychiatrist himself. However, he must admit that he was satisfied with her. Never providing a single leak to the Bureau, for one, and on the other hand, pleasant to the eyes. He smiled to himself slightly.

So nothing about the next time, huh? This was somewhat new. And the smile. That smile. The smile came from the bottom of his heart. Esther adjusted her legs so that she could lean forward. “Would you mind telling me what is on your mind right now?” 

“You.” She was a good one, and it was no use lying to her. Hannibal admitted quite frankly.

Esther blushed a little and pressed her legs tightly together. Her mind drifted to the previous sessions where they tried out a new experimental therapy, which she’d like to call “the Lector therapy”. She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the warmth growing within her core, “I presume the previous sessions were indeed stress-relieving?”

“Very.” His answer was curt. And he always spoke this way as if every word that came out of his mouth would shred his lips thinner, which they already were. Esther couldn’t help but remember how they felt on her lips, on her breasts, and her thighs. She felt his thin lips were more powerful than full-lip partners she had before. His lips were exceptional at sucking, nibbling, and open-mouthed kisses. She could not recall what his lips weren’t good at. The warmth down below just turned into heat, making her sweat.

She could not wait a minute more. Since she didn’t acquire any information useful, she might as well continue “the Lector therapy” with him. It was unprofessional, she knew. But she couldn’t help it.

He pursed his lips, “Why not?” More often than not his questions would come out posing as a sentence rather than with a question mark at the very end. Today he was behaving abnormally. He stood up from the chair, and habitually buttoned his tailored dark blue suit jacket.

It was the midth of August, searing hot on the outside and there he was, still wearing his tailored suit buttoned all up to the cuff links.

Not anymore. She thought. Watching him as he popped his buttons off one by one. Pop. Pop. Pop. Off came his suit jacket and his vest.

Esther gulped with expectation. She had touched him way too many times to know what a beautiful body hid behind those layers of clothing. She pulled down her knee-length dress quickly. A bit too quickly she might add. Leaving only bra and pantie.

Hannibal didn’t dwell long before he pulled her in for a heated kiss. Tongues and lips smashed together. He tasted like smoked wood and whiskey, though she was sure he wouldn’t drink before a session. Hands roamed her body as always, he knew her far too well.

“Please please please.” The spark in her abdomen blew into a fire, raging over her body as he laid his hands on her. She didn’t know what she was begging for, but she knew for absolute sure who she was begging.

“You are wet.” He put it simply, fingers dancing at her clothed entrance. Still no expression of the sheer delight or disappointment, she thought.

“Soaked.” Only a fracture of seconds without his lips and she felt like fish out of the water. Dying. She needed him. She needed everything he was about to give her. Not offer. But give. Esther latched her mouth upon his jawline. The light stubble he kept on his chin created a delicious fraction and pain mixture that she couldn’t get enough of. Taller than her, he would have to lower his head to kiss her on the lips, which he was currently depriving her of.

His hum was either approval or something else, she couldn’t tell. It sent shivers down her spine and left her imagination with the feeling of his lips connecting to her body with that vibration. God, she needed him more than she could imagine. She needed him so bad. So fucking bad.

She ripped his belt buckle. It came off with a metal clink. He tsked: “Getting impatient, are we?” Hannibal printed a trail of kisses down her column of the throat. He sucked bruises that were sure to remain for three days or more. But she couldn’t care less. He could rip her throat out for all she cared.

His fingers dipped into her entrance gently, pushing in one knuckle each. She gasped. They had not fucked for two weeks and she was having a dry spell since then. It was not that she was saving herself for him. They both knew they were having fun. That was all. It was just that she was insatiable when she met another guy after the first session with Hannibal. And yes, they fucked the very first time they should have been counseling. Back to that random guy, he was unable to touch her like Hannibal did, let alone help her reach her orgasm. From then on, fucking other guys had been bland, meaningless, and time-consuming.

Hannibal. Speaking of Hannibal, he was opening her up. Moist gathered at his fingertips, and he drew his fingers all of a sudden. “Wha-” Esther was confused. He pushed his fingers into her mouth, “Taste yourself”, as he dipped them in some homemade sauce, casually asking her to have a taste. His fingers intruded her mouth, nearly pressing her tongue that she would gag. But Hannibal knew her limits, only stuffed her mouth half full. Her drool smeared his fingers and her chin, making a total mess. He was expecting a mess much worse. But he would get there, with time.

Hannibal grabbed her arms, forcing her to land on the therapy bed on her elbows. He manhandled her to a kneeling position, unclasping her bra, and removed her pantie in one swift motion. He stood behind her, and the next thing she knew, his thick girth pushed in. She moaned in relief, at which he delivered another hum. She was stuffed full to the brim.

It was amazing how sex connects two people, fairly strangers more or less to one another, body and soul. It was in these tiny moments that she could get a glimpse of the man behind all his facades. He was commanding, for starters. Very commanding. She had done a bit of thinking while he dragged out lazily. The thoughts quickly vanished when he thrust again, the tip almost reaching her cervix. Bodies smashing, wet squelching noises growing louder at where he ends and where she began. He held her by the love handle, namely her waist, and pulled her to crash onto him. Hitting deeper. Harder. Sure to bruise tomorrow, if not hours later.

“Such a wonderful cock slut for me... no?” He panted slightly, emphasizing the degrading word, “Needy and wanting.” He paused for a few seconds, only to lower his upper body to whisper and nib her earlobe, “Tell me, do you want me to fill you up? Make you cock drunk? Cum in you so much that you will be seeing the next appointment with it dripping out of your cunt?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what? You’ve got to say the magic word, my darling.” He used one of the most lovable words and still grinned like a devil without horns or darkened hands. They both knew this wasn’t pretending, only a method to reach his satisfaction. And he hated it when things got out of hand.

“Yes please.” She breathed. Gasped for air. Since he hadn’t been giving her a chance to breathe with his hard thrusts. They knocked her out of breath every damn time. Every. Damn. Time.

He sounded annoyed: “Thought the next appointment was only twenty minutes away. Better keep up, darling.” Is she the one not keeping up? Her fogged brain didn’t know anymore.

“Poor thing. ”He sighed, gripping her tighter, “and I have to help you with it.” He reached down to rub circles on her clit. Esther clenched her core, and came with a silent cry, mouth gaping as she was screaming. She saw the white in front of her eyes, limbs soft and fuzzy.

Hannibal was pumping his cum into her. It did drip out of her core.

“I’d say today was very successful.” He cleaned himself with a tissue, tidying up in no time. His voice was only a tad gravel, hard to notice if not paying attention.

“Yes.” She mumbled, kindly taking her undergarments from his hands. Esther clapped her bra and went for a tissue as well. A few minutes after, she only looked flushed. Lips red. Pupils dilated. Everything looked perfectly normal. She could tell her next appointment that she had just run a marathon. Perfectly normal for a psychiatrist to run a marathon, no?

He buttoned his cuff links, pressing a chaste quick kiss on her cheek. “Until the next time, darling.”

Esther held her expression and bid a farewell.

She would be having another dry spell “until the next time” for sure.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x original female character #hannibal lecter smut #mads mikkelsen #until the next time #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter - freeform

[goremeat]

“A very well-tailored person suit” Hannibal Lecter as Genderqueer American Gothic Cannibal by Alena Kiel

#from the office. #Article archiving. #hannibal lecter

[odetokeons]

"you are wearing a very well-tailored person suit"

an early draft of one of my latest draws without the background.

i love the stag man, he's so fun to draw!

#person suit #stag man #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal fan art #doodle #sketch #draw #my draw #art #my art #you are wearing a very well-tailored person suit #i love that quote

[readerstories]

Whatever We Want - Hannibal Lecter x gn!reader

Made it gender neutral because I could and gender doesn’t really come into the fic. I tried to go for smut, but got stuck, so just some light fluff this time. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 1468

Request: hi there! can you please do a Hannibal x reader? Preferably smut however if you just want fluff thats okay too! The reader is a patient of his and after awhile of therapy sessions and learning more about each other, he makes a move. she intrigues him and is intelligent and kind but dark like him. except not a cannibal (yet lol)

Going to therapy had been a hard choice for you. You’re a private person and think people should keep out of your business as much as possible, thank you very much.

But that, being said, you had realized you probably needed it, or at least something. Punching a mirror in a weak moment had made you seek something out.

So you had researched therapists near you, eventually finding one you thought might not be too bad.

To your surprise, you actually end up liking going there. Dr. Lecter is a well mannered and polite man with some dry humor which he sometimes lets shine through in your sessions. He’s not boring like you thought, instead well read in many disciplines and facets of life, and enjoys the finer things in life, like the tailored suits he always wears, giving your eye something nice as well as your mind.

He lets you ramble and talk about just about anything, sometimes listening, sometimes talking more than you when you are in a foul mood. He’s good at what he does, giving you the illusion of controlling where the sessions go, but you catch on after a few sessions. You joke about it some, (”Is this where you diagnose me with daddy issues Dr. Lecter?” A movement that can barely be called a smile and a huff of air the closest thing you have heard to a laughter from him. “I am not.”), but over time you grow into it, letting him do so.

It helps that you find him interesting and good to look at, so he has no problems in keeping you attentive when you meet. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about him in other settings. But you had let them go, not wanting to push for something you can’t get.

Which is why, when Hannibal invites you over for dinner one day, he is met with surprised silence over the phone for a few seconds before you gather yourself and say yes to his invitation.

The next evening, at 6 pm sharp, you ring the doorbell of his house while trying to squash the butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach.

Steady footsteps behind the door, and then it’s opened by Hannibal. He’s not smiling, not that you expected him to, but the look on his face is kind. You hand over the blue hydrangeas you had been holding.

“I would have gotten some wine, but I know your taste is better than mine, so I did this instead.”

“Thank you. Come in.” Still ever so polite, Dr. Lecter holds the door open for you as you step inside.

“I find that flowers have a calming effect as well as bringing more life to a room. Please make yourself comfortable while I find a vase for these wonderful points of life.” Hannibal walks down a hallway and you start to take a look around.

The decor and furnishing clearly speaks to a man living alone, but it is as classy and stylish, but yet very on trend as the man you just gave flowers to.

You had debated over what to bring for longer than you would care to admit, unsure what to make of the situation you find yourself in. You wonder what Hannibal had meant by inviting you over for dinner like this.

You are brought out of your musing by approaching steps. Hannibal appears with the flowers in a simple black vase, setting them down on the nearest flat surface before looking at you.

“If you will join me in the dining room, dinner is ready.” You nod, following him into yet another stylish room. The dinner table is long and surrounded by many chairs, clearly able to host a larger gathering of people if needed. But tonight there is only you and Dr. Lecter. He pulls out a chair for you when you get close, and you sit down, the neatly set table in front of you. Yet again he leaves you alone, going through what you assume is the way to the kitchen. Just a few minutes later he is back with plates with food, the smell of them making your mouth water. He sets them down carefully on the table before sitting down across from you.

You can’t help the question that finally tumbles from your lips.

“What is this Dr. Lecter?”

“It is called-” You hold up a hand, silencing him.

“Not the food, but this. Inviting me over for dinner, just the two of us alone.” A few beats of silence as you watch each other.

“It is whatever we want it to be.” He lets the word linger before speaking once more.

“You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met, so a dinner seemed only fitting to get to know each other better.” Your first thought is no, that is what you do in your therapy session, but no, that’s not really it is it? He knows you, but you don’t know much about him, other than that he is polite and looks very good in tailored suits.

“Very well Dr. Lecter.” A smile, the first proper one you have seen from him, however small.

“Please, call me Hannibal.” You smile back at him, glancing down at the food to avoid his gaze so he can’t see how flustered that little permission to use his first name had gotten you.

“But now I am actually curious, what is this wonderful dinner I see and smell before me?”

“The meat is-” and from here he launches into an explanation of the food and how he prepared it while he starts to eat. You mirror him, both continuing to eat while he explains, and then the conversation flows from there. You find it even easier and better to talk to him in a more casual setting like this, almost every sentence he speaks makes you more interested in the man.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you toast to the health of the other, then continue talking. It’s an easy ebb and flow of words, neither of you running dry on what to say or where to next with your words.

You keep talking and drinking more wine all trough your dinner, and you keep talking while helping Hannibal clear away the dishes. You follow him into the kitchen, offering him to help him, but he thanks you no, saying that no guest of his should do dishes.

So instead you lean against the counter, looking over the kitchen while he does dishes, wineglass almost empty again. You take your last sip of it, setting it down on the counter next to the knife block behind your back.

“You have a rather large kitchen for one person.”

“I like to cook, sometimes for many people.” You hum, watching his back move through his white shirt, shamelessly looking now that he can’t see you.

“I gathered as much, and you are good at it too, I must say.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal almost catches you staring when he turns around, a chef knife in his hands. He steps toward you, and you know you are in his way so he can’t put the knife away, but you don’t move. He raises a brow, you tilt your head in response. Another few steps and he is very much in your personal space, the knife by his side now. He moves his arm ever so slowly up, the knife glinting briefly in the light before it goes behind your back.

You hear it slide into its place in the block, but pay it no mind, all your attention on Hannibal’s face now.

Pulling his arm back, it doesn’t go back at Hannibal’s side, instead his hand comes to at your hip. You lick your lips, his eyes following the motion, the silence in the room deafening.

He leans forward ever so slightly, and then, finally, his lips are on yours. They are firm, warm, and you are quick to respond. Kissing him back your own hands go around his neck, pulling him closer. Hannibal hums into the kiss, both of his hands on your hips now. His tongue comes out and you open your mouth to him, meeting him halfway there.

Hannibal kisses with a quiet, but solid, fierceness you perhaps hadn’t expected. So who are you to blame when your hand wanders down to tug him forward by his belt loop, sending a very clear message of what you want this to be.

Hannibal breaks the kiss but doesn’t go far, staying right where he is as he speaks.

“Is this what you want it to be?”

“Yes.” You whisper breathlessly and pull him back for another kiss with his tie.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal fanfiction #Hannibal TV #hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #reader insert #hannibal fic #reader #written #1000 #readerinsert

[masterswrd]

Hannibal Fashion Meta Pt. 4

Now with sexy annotations.

In this installment we’re back to our favorite party vampire, my sweet Hannibal, who is a whole ass meal and always ready to please a crowd. So we’re going to be talking about his Event Looks.

Ya know, these are becoming less like metas and more like me sitting with you on your couch and pausing and pointing at the screen while I dump all this on you. But what matters most is my own happiness so here we are.

Let’s start in order with one of my favorite episodes, 1x07 Sorbet. Where we see Hannibal is a gorgeous double breasted midnight blue Brunello Cucinelli tux. It’s not bespoke, but honey if this is cashmere than this is probably $9000. If it’s wool than it’s closer to $5000 (which is what I estimate he pays for a lot of his bespoke suits).

Hannibal really isn’t the type of person to wear black, I’m pretty sure we never see him in a solid black suit. Black suits are very very formal and unless you’re at a black tie event or a funeral, a black suit is usually overkill. We know he likes to stand out. Blue is a very socially acceptable way to have some flair at a black tie event. It’s very main character of him. He’s also wearing french square cuffs on the shirt (the reason they look almost tear drop shaped around his wrists) which is why he’s wearing cuff links (you need french cuffs for cufflinks).

Hannibal doesn’t seem to wear cuff links very often. Only with tuxedos. On this evening, he pairs this with a $200 a blue silk Burberry bow tie.

Hugh Dancy used to model for Burberry and I lost an hour of work on this due to that little morsel of information.

The next even we see Hannibal at is his own dinner party later that episode. This shit is lux, baby.

This blazer is a dark dark green velvet Canali dinner jacket that I’m estimating to be around two to three thousand dollars. And hey listen. I tried so hard to edit these pics so you could see the green, but it’s the type of material in color where you’d really only see it in person. Canali is a luxury Italian brand that has a shop in Washington DC,which is probably the one Hannibal would go to in canon. There’s also a shop in Milano, Italy so Hannibal could’ve been a fan of this brand for a long time. Under the jacket we have a $600 Gucci button up. A paisley tie, not surprising with it being a staple to Hannibal’s taste, and a three-peak folded pocket square to finish off the look. King of pocket square folds. I love you.

With only one party happening in season two, Futamono is next. Now, I personally love this look but anytime people step up their formal wear with color, I go nuts.

This is a maroon velvet dinner jacket with silk lining and trim. The make is Etro, a very high end Italian fashion house that specializes in bold prints. It’s a gorgeous $1500 jacket, but I want to talk about the cravat. Cravats felt out of a fashion a long time ago (they were originally a military thing way back before aristocracy got a hold of it) and most people could NOT pull them off today. BUT that is only because people don’t modernize the look. People wear them too high on the neck and makes your whole outfit look outdated. But keeping it low to the open collar or using it to frame an open collar makes it look a million times better. This is just another example of Hannibal being a person who wears what looks good on him and not wearing things that follow certain rules. He can pull anything off it he puts his mind to it. If we wore crocs to the opera, everyone would be trying to do it the next day. He’s a trend setter and an icon.

Jumping to season 3, we have another black tie event. Everyone in the background wearing black and our man comes through with a gorgeous burgundy two-peice tuxedo. This is a unique bespoke peice by toronto based Italian master tailor, Nino Cioppa. Nino is the primary tailor for season 3 and he did a fabulous job, the talent JUMPED out. Molto bello.

The silk on the lapels are patterned and the same fabric is used to do an accent strip on the sides of the legs. Silk lapels are one trusty way you can tell between a suit and a tuxedo. Lovely lovely lovely. Not a plain tie either. It’s maroon silk with an embroidered square pattern. He’s also wearing french cuffs with mother of pearl Burberry cufflinks.

Another amazing suit in Antipasto is this baby, a beautiful chalkstripe emerald green three-piece suit. By FAR, one of my favorite outfits that he wears. Like the tux above, this is another bespoke original from Mr. Nino Cioppa.

The silk blue bowtie brings yet another pop of color. He does color matching and pattern matching very often and does it well. There’s a general rule of two that people follow where they will only wear two patterns at most having one be understated (the chalkstripe and stripes on the shirt in this case) and one being more attention drawing (the bowtie). Hannibal ignores this rule a lot and still looks amazing but this is a good example of the rule in action.

The biggest thing I want people to get out of these is that regular fancy people don’t dress like this. Hannibal Lecter is another plane of fashion. He’s avant-garde and ahead of his time. He is always wearing something fresh and showstopping. This person had to be THE TALK of the baltimore upper class. “What’s Dr. Lecter wearing?” “Who is your tailor?” “Oh my goodness, he’s stunning.” Nobody else is doing it like him and doing it so well. He dresses for the Met Gala everytime he pulls up to ANY function. Why should he be concerned out rules? Why should he be self-conscious or worried what other people think? Take his self confidence and apply it to your style. Wear that peice of clothing you bought but shoved back in your closet because you can’t bring yourself to wear it out. Hannibal will never hold back when he’s serving looks and neither should you.

In conclusion:

#w.txt #matt writes #hannibal fashion #hannibal #hannibal lecter #my correct hannibal posts #can you tell i drank green juice and not liquor this time around? #this is a reminder that if you ever want a fashion consult on ur fics i will do it!!!

[alwaysthinkingoutloud]

Hannibal Episode-by-Episode Meta/Analysis: Episode 7, Season 1 (Sorbet)

The opera scene along with Will’s lecture about the Chesapeake Ripper gives us a lot of insight about Hannibal. Will explains that the Chesapeake Ripper does not see the people he kills as victims or preys, but pigs. That there is no intensity of emotions nor social drives behind the killings, but a practical and carnal purpose which is to provide meat. Right after that, we are shown the acoustic mechanics of the opera singer, her vocal cords, who seems to enchant the whole room including Dr. Lecter. Opera is an art that is supposed to rise from heart and soul, and infiltrate heart and soul, more than any other sense organs. However, Hannibal reaches the climax of this experience only through hearing what comes out simply from a throat. Even that opera singer who is mighty enough to bring out that admiration in him is a combination of a bunch of body systems that seemingly works very well and that is all she is in his eyes. What brings tears to his eyes is not the dramatic story, but the elegance and theatricality of the music and the live juke box that stands on the stage.

Franklyn is starting to get on Hannibal’s nerves, trying to penetrate his boundaries. He makes Hannibal uncomfortable with his raw desire to be his friend. He makes him sigh with displeasure too many times, almost offended that Franklyn would think Hannibal would take him -with all his drama-queenship and mundaneness- as a friend. I think the only reason why Hannibal does not wipe him out sooner is thanks to his touching greatness remark. Afterall Hannibal is a narcissist, and he might choose to hold on to a fan a little longer. Franklyn is not the first person using getting on Hannibal’s good side as a means to get something they want from him, Jack had done the same thing when he tried to convince him into profiling Will Graham.

Jack is still haunted about Miriam Lass, so his obsession about the Chesapeake Ripper beats his commonsense and therefore he keeps pushing Will. When Jack is telling Will how he will not get a chance to shoot the Chesapeake Ripper because Jack himself will, Will says that he cannot jack up the law and get underneath it and Jack asks, “Can’t I?” giving Will a very loaded-up look. So, here is the first indication of Jack’s real thoughts upon Will killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. He previously said that Will’s shooting him 7 times is not normal, referring to his possible mental breakdown, but this is the first time he insinuates that he thinks what Will did had intent in it. If Jack already has this kind of doubts about Will and yet he keeps using him up, isn’t Jack as responsible in Will’s becoming as Hannibal? He seems to have that on his conscience, as his hallucinations that have Will victimized like Miriam Lass suggest. At the end of the day, however, he leaves the office purposefully avoiding looking at where he saw those hallucinations. As can be seen Jack is aware of everything, yet he just does not learn his lesson.

That scene where Will closes the door on Brian’s face when he is making arguments opposite to his, just makes me think about what kind of person Will is even without Hannibal’s influence on him. Yes, he is socially awkward but being rude does not necessarily come with it. Will often is unapologetically rude towards a lot of people though, yet Hannibal does not seem to be bothered by that. Is it really only because the rudeness is not directed to him? He does not even seem disturbed by Will’s messiness -his throwing his personal stuff around when he comes to Hannibal’s office-, unlike any other’s. If Will was just a pawn that Hannibal liked to play to see what would happen, if this all were only for his own amusement and nothing more; I do not think Hannibal would make this too many of exceptions. He would not bother rewriting his rule book on what is acceptable for just a pawn. But he would maybe do it for someone more than that. It is as Will’s mess is not tolerated in Hannibal’s life, but almost welcomed. 

It is a weird thing to see Hannibal referring to her psychiatrist as his friend when he just corrected Franklyn when he tried to do the same thing. It is as, he finds Franklyn lonely and in need of friendship, and is trying to prove to himself that he is not like him. So, he asks that question to Bedelia expecting a different answer than he gave to Franklyn, but he gets the same. At that point, he sees the humiliating similarity between Frankly and himself: that they both are lonely. Loneliness hits him hard when he opens his office door and does not see Will there, missing their meeting. Looking totally resented and genuinely hurt, touching his phone longingly and even double-checking his appointments... Imagine the intensity of his feelings he must feel to make a super-intelligent, overconfident, proud man like him to desperately doubt his memory, looking for an excuse for Will not being there. Such a human thing to do. Will does bring out the human in Hannibal, just like Hannibal brings out the monster in him. Who makes a more-deserving friend candidate than the man who is capable of doing that to Hannibal?

Bedelia is the first character introduced to the audience who seems to know what Hannibal is. She makes on-point comments about Hannibal and he feels both intrigued and challenged about that. He says pink when Bedelia asks him if he would drink red or white wine, which may as well as be saying I wear neither only the person suit nor the human veil, mine is something in between.

Will seems almost upset about the fact that Hannibal has been drinking, assumably with someone. He does not show any interest in anyone’s personal life, but he does about Hannibal. He does not seem to avert his eyes while talking to Hannibal either. He asks further questions about the wine drinking and his psychiatrist. Maybe the lonely man he is, Will looks at Hannibal and sees a friend too. A friend who he is a little possessive and curious about.

“(He) takes their organs away, because in his mind, they don’t deserve them.”

Another Hannibalistic strategic jump is seen when he suggests to Will that the organ removal pattern may point to an organ harvester. He may be genuinely thinking that this is the case and wants to help Will, or he may be suggesting that only to pin his own murders as the Chesapeake Ripper on this killer. More likely, both. So, he makes his next kill look like it was done harvesting organs. While confusing both Will and the FBI, he still gives Will insight about the Chesapeake Ripper though, telling him that he takes away people’s organs because in his mind they do not deserve them. Another allowed peak behind Hannibal’s person suit -maybe also an indicator that Hannibal is getting warmer to the idea of letting Will see him-, Will gets a little surprised by the accuracy of the remark and he is given even more material when he sees Hannibal in the ambulance, tending the wounded man. Who knows, what Will sees. Maybe just a little bit of too much nonchalance, or a revelation that is beyond that.

Just as every murder that happens in the show gives us a window into Hannibal as well, this last murderer’s attempt to save the life of one of his victims is reflected on Hannibal, trying to keep another victim alive in the ambulance. It is the reflection of the power of darkness that can also be life-giving, but not more joyfully done than taking it.

Episode ends with Hannibal presenting his show both in and out of the kitchen. He succeeds diverting Jack from the Chesapeake Ripper while too using that means to throw a culinary fest. The applause ringing in the room is not only a praise for the dinner, but in his mind, for the genuinity of his well-tailored person suit. He looks euphoric about the belittling power he has over people that makes them sit on his table and eat whatever he serves, manipulating everything and everyone in his life without a soul hearing.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will #will graham #hannibal and will #will and hannibal #hannigram #murder husbands #brian fuller #nbc hannibal #hannibal analysis #hannibal meta #jack crawford #bedelia du maurier #brian zeller #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #chesapeake ripper #hannibal loves will #will loves hannibal #sorbet

[hannigramficrecs]

AU

Provenance by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite [words: 62,735]

A delightful AU about a rare book dealer, an owner of a high-end coffee shop, and murder. This does involve Hannibal Lecter, after all.

I Am Not A Morning Person by stratumgermanitivum [words: 14,852]

I Am Not A Morning Person opened at 4:30 AM. Usually. Their menu was obscene and ever changing, and they offered shots of tequila in their coffee to anyone with an ID. Hannibal fell in love with their grouchy baker anyway.

Fruitful by Everett_Harte [words: 11,629]

An AU where they both meet several years before the show, start dating, and get married. And bang, a lot.

Teen Hannibal Ficlets by emungere [words: 10,927]

AU where Hannibal never meets Lady Murasaki and is somehow found by Will Graham and Will raises him instead. As Hannibal gets older he becomes obsessed with Will and so Teen Hannibal tries to seduce Guardian Will who is just like oh god someone save me.

Ticket Pocket by geneticallydead [words: 1,669]

Hannibal needs a new tailor. He finds Will Graham.

Taste by emungere [words: 4,575]

Hannibal is a tailor (and may or may not also be a serial killer) and Will comes to him for a new suit.

Professional Help by xzombiexkittenx [words: 1,969]

There's a stranger in Hannibal Lecter's house, peering out the window through the scope of an L115A3 bolt-action rifle.

Black Rock Mountain by bokunojinsei [words: 23,964]

Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.

Lazy Coffee by lonelywalker [words: 1,104]

The baristas of Baltimore are dropping like flies. Why? Because they just can't get Dr. Lecter's coffee order right, and he's very particular. One day, an awkward young man with "Will" on his nametag changes Hannibal's life.

Page Six by ThisBeautifulDrowning [words: 66,839]

Crime reporter Will Graham's column on page six of the Baltimore Sun garners him the attention of many: fans, hobby detectives, the FBI...and others. Hannibal cut off a piece of meat with surgical precision. “I find your company rather engaging.” “Maybe I don't find you all that engaging.” Silence. Hannibal grinned. “I see that it will take more than one dinner to earn your forgiveness. Challenge accepted.”

How To Save A Life (The Cannibal-Friendly Handbook) by Kittendiamore [words: 3,463]

There’s a man looking up at Will, who has clearly been distracted from - Oh. Throwing limbs into the river. Human limbs. Lovely, he thinks sarcastically. Then he thinks it again because it actually is kind of lovely. The man looks confident. At ease with what he is. He’s kinda hot, too. Or: Will tries to jump off a bridge but ends up offering himself up to a cannibalistic serial killer...as you do.

Never Conquered, Rarely Came by thisisthefamilybusiness [words: 3,242]

Will is in an abusive relationship but can't see a way out - he's tried to leave before, but his partner is in law enforcement and always manages to track him down while pretending to be the understanding, forgiving, loving type. One day, Will stumbles across an ad in the Classifieds of the cleverly worded cannibal-seeking-fresh-meat-but-veiled-as-private-cooking-classes type, and decides to answer. Hannibal is pleased when his ad bears fruit, then surprised when his intended dinner apparently knows exactly what he's in for

Triage by ErisPhoenix [words: 5,469]

Cop Will and ER doctor Hannibal

The Ripper and the Black Dog by HigherMagic [words: 16,249]

A 'Mr & Mrs Smith' Hannigram story.

Money Where Your Mouth Is by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles [words: 3,792]

Will Graham is a dancer in a strip club trying to earn enough money to pay rent when he catches the attention of Hannibal Lecter, a man and a predator willing to pay any price for what he wants.

Late Shift by Sugarmouse [words: 4,307] 

Hannibal is nearing the end of his shift in the ER when one of the students makes a mistake with the dog bite victim in room four.

Our Stars are the Same by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened [words: 42,578] 

Someone's moved into the old creepy, supposedly haunted, mansion down the way from Will Graham and his family. Will never expects to befriend the new family's son.

Moorings Built on Sand by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened [words: 100,289] 

Will and his dad are moved to Germany for the foreseeable future and Will is surprised when he befriends a boy a few years older than him who seems to be mute.

Fix All My Broken Things by xstarxchaserx [words: 16,177]

When Will is introduced to Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the psychiatrist is only supposed to be a client for him, just a couple of small repair jobs and nothing more. Will isn't prepared to fall headfirst into feelings, operas, and murder, but there's something lurking behind Hannibal's cool facade. When Will discovers it, his entire life will change.

The New Boy by TigerPrawn [words: 11,904] 

(Hannigram + Spacedogs High School AU) Nigel recently moved to a new school after being kicked out of the last five he'd attended. He just wants to keep his head down and get through senior year so his parents will let him work in their profitable family business. When he's asked to play guide to another new student - strange little Adam Raki - he thinks he might have found help in passing his classes. If he can keep his mind on his studies around his new friend...

I'll Will My Wild Eyes Bright by HigherMagic [words: 24,398] ]

"You would do well to remember that people like you are best seen and not heard," Mason says sharply. "Our new friend is far less forgiving than I am, if the rumors are even half true." Will nods, and resists the urge to pet over his face and wipe Mason's scent away. "I want you to kill him, Will. Whatever it takes. Will you do it?" "Of course, Your Majesty," Will replies, nodding. "I am your humble servant."

Ero̱totropía by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite [words: 49,243] 

Will is 16 when he finds himself given to an older man to be mentored and apprenticed in the art of war and horsemanship. It is traditional, and all would be well, had Will not run his mouth to this particular general in the public baths not several hours earlier...

The Aesthetics of Pleasure by exarite [words: 2,056]

Hannibal Lecter did not watch porn. If he did, though, it would certainly explain why the man waiting in line with him looked incredibly familiar.

Out of Order by HigherMagic [words: 7,346]

Hannibal's car breaks down on a long road in the middle of West Virginia. In his quest to seek help, he ends up at an abandoned gas station, with a little house and a large barn. Living there is a man, Will Graham, who offers to take a look at his car and drive him to the next town so he has a place to stay. Hannibal cannot resist digging into Will's mind and personal life during the drive, learning that Will teaches remotely for the FBI, and in particular, lectures on the Chesapeake Ripper.

The One That Got Away by whatacunningboy [words: 4,694] 

Hannibal Lecter had this macabre air to his name. Everyone knew who he was and in what he specialized in—assassination was his trade and no one questioned it. He could make anyone disappear with a simple trick or two. He never missed a target, he was quiet, and swift. Yet, he missed the biggest target of all.

Ethics & Aesthetics by fragile-teacup [words: 106,330]

Pride and Prejudice omegaverse AU

Inconvenient by fragile-teacup [words: 69,621] 

England, April 1815. Hannibal Lecter, the third Earl of Raven, gets more than he bargained for when accepting a bet from a desperate man leads to him being saddled with the man's dilapidated estate - and son. Will Graham is eighteen, hot-headed, and unnervingly intriguing. As for Will, the idea of having to spend time with the person whom he holds responsible for his father's untimely death is anathema. And yet, when circumstances leave him with no other choice, he is forced to adapt. It does not help matters that Hannibal Lecter is most annoyingly attractive...

4 (25/25)

#hannibal au #hannibal fanfic #hannigram fanfic #hannibal #hannigram #au

[museenkuss]

Suggestions for Halloween Costumes

Important note: All costumes are 100% unisex. They look best, however, if you’re LGBT+

Gretchen (Goethe’s Faust): white dress, soft hair, bare feet if possible, one single red ribbon wrapped around your throat, a look of desolation in tearful eyes, a hint of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, optional: a piece of jewellery clutched in your hand OR a piece of baby clothing, splattered in blood

Hannibal Lecter (classy): wine-stained mouth, a suit that’s just a TAD too much, carefully combed hair, woody-warm fragrance, make sure to make at least 2 puns and 5 references to a pretentious topic of your choosing (suggestions: 18th century french literature, the horror elements in German romanticism, decay and decadence in fin de siècle Great Britain) in every conversation

Hannibal Lecter (hot): pinstripe shirt, collar messed OR ripped, blood smeared on your mouth or dripping from your nose, messy hair (get the look by bending over and running both hands through your hair), out of breath, ready to fuck a bitch up

Baudelaire’s Muse: YSL Paris, a black outfit that hides and shows your body in equal measures - think a billowy, see through black blouse or short/rolled up sleeves combined with long gloves or a floor-length cape/long coat combined with something revealing underneath that now and then shows in passing, dark eye make up (NO cut crease etc - think ink blotches/dark circles), glossy-red mouth. Talk less, smile faintly, act like men amuse you, but not in a good way.

Dorian Gray (Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray): too-loud laughter, silk (shirt, scarf, whatever you can do), a pocket mirror to look into at random intervals while having conversations (additionally to this: look at your own reflection in every reflecting surface), carefully shined nails, blond hair if possible, be ready to recite french poetry

Medea: wild hair, a gaze filled with fury and grief, the scent of smoke and herbs clinging to a linen dress, gold dusted hair/cheeks OR gold braided into hair, blood-sticky hands

Neil Perry (Dead Poet’s Society): green turtleneck, laurel crown OR crown made out of twigs, battered copy of poetry books filled with annotations, a gun. Be ready to recite poetry or Shakespeare at any given moment

Franz Kafka Protagonist: grey suit, carefully combed hair, the scent of fresh newspaper ink and coffee, dark circles around the eyes, shaking hands, the knowledge that you have no worth and nowhere to hide

Carmilla (Le Fanu’s Carmilla): red mouth, languid but graceful movements, pale, stay close to pretty girls and be extremely romantic and sweet towards them, a soft-flowing dress that shows off your chest and throat, Magnolia Sensuel by BVLGARI or Red Roses by Jo Malone, hint that you saw the person you’re talking to in a dream long ago (only talk to girls. Be very brash towards men)

Tom Ripley (Highsmith’s The Talented Mr Ripley): a sharp eau de cologne of the old fashioned kind that’s only bearable in warmer climates, a golden tan (bonus if it’s fake), soft linen shirt, blazer, suit trousers or jeans (both works), loafers or espadrilles, sunglasses, a watch with broken glass or splattered in blood

Ophelia (Shakespeare’s Hamlet): messy white dress (DIY it by soaking it, crumbling it with leaves and dried flower petals so they stick on/stain the fabric), tousled hair, dark circles, pale lips, glassy eyes

Patrick Bateman’s Halloween Costume (Ellis’ American Psycho): stylishly gelled hair, severed head in hand, paper sign saying “I’m a serial killer”, suit splattered in blood (some of it fake). Please note: for this to really work, consider the Patrick Bateman look essentials such as well-moisturised skin, a golden tan, a bright, nervous, empty smile, a nicely tailored suit with broad shoulders, a faint tremor in your hands

#dark academia #da #classics #dark aesthetic #aesthetics #dead poets society #hamlet #shakespeare #dorian gray #oscar wilde #hannibal #suggestions #whispers #american psycho #patrick bateman #the talented mr. ripley

[omniishambles]

Muse Edits : Then & Now // Dr. Hannibal Lecter

#c edit #a very well tailored person suit ; hannibal lecter

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Persephone Will Have Her Fill 

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: Here’s part two of my little hannigram verse. You should absolutely read the first part before you take a peak at this one. Word Count: 9.4K Warnings: There be some cannibalism and talk about killing. Oh, also - Will suffers from encephalitis, so there’s that, too!  Summary: 

After meeting the mysterious darkness that is Will Graham, Hannibal finds himself snared by the presence he brings into his life. When a question sparks up the need to truly be seen, Hannibal sets out to do just that. Earth-rocking realizations ensue.

Read on AO3 here.

“Have I ever seen any of your work?”

Looking up from the cutting board in front of him, the chef’s knife in his hand stalled through the rough chop he was treating the cilantro to. Hannibal took a second to draw in breath, then tilted his head – a contemplative look on his face.

“I’m surprised you haven’t pieced it all together already,” Hannibal replied smoothly, his body shifting to turn in Will’s direction. For a second, Hannibal let himself soak the other man in. His hands were covered in blood from the preparation of the organ on the butcher block in the middle of Hannibal’s kitchen. The man’s latest acquisition, a heart that would make great steaks for their dinner that evening, and then a lovely addition to a stew that blew Hannibal’s mind the last time Will shared it with him.

There were so many hidden components to Will Graham that Hannibal still didn’t completely grasp, but this one, the element that brought freedom and dropped the masks – Will flourished in it. The pinch of his shoulders eased and the fluid motion of hand to knife created art; a sort of relaxed talent that Hannibal only ever knew of himself before the whirlwind of Will swept into his life.

And, while they didn’t indulge the other in shared secrets of recipes and know-how in the kitchen, they each brought their own pieces to the game and let the innate connection between them bring about the result. The last few months of collaboration were some of Hannibal’s greatest culinary triumphs.

A coy smile directed Hannibal’s way brought him from his thoughts – the killer gleam in Will’s eyes reminding him of the existence of the wild animal the other man only barely kept at bay. He watched Will drop his knife, hands still covered in blood and viscera, and make his way directly into Hannibal’s space. There was a beat of shared breath, and then Will was suddenly behind him – his arm wrapping around Hannibal’s upper arms, pulling him until they were flush together, back to chest.

A blood stain in the shape of Will’s hand on the bicep of Hannibal’s shirt contrasted the stark white of the color – Will’s mark on him tangible in that moment in more ways than one.

The slightest height difference between them made it easy for Will to hook his chin over Hannibal’s shoulder, his lips already pressed delicately against the sensitive shell of his ear.

“I’ve thought about your design since the second I met you,” Will muttered, the words kissed into the soft skin just below Hannibal’s ear. “You’ve been killing most of your life – probably started young, caught the bug and had the talent to back it up. You’re knowledgeable in anatomy, so your dissections are precise. You only take what you need and use the rest to send your message.”

Each word felt like a direct hit to the walls in Hannibal’s mind. The palace that existed there, while generally untouched by outsiders, called out to Will. From the day they met, Hannibal felt himself making expansions, rooms being added on in an attempt to fit Will Graham’s infiltration.

“What I can’t decide on, though,” Will continued, the hand not gripping Hannibal already drifting down svelte sides until it settled on the middle of a trim stomach, “is whether you make a grandiose display, or not. You already play with your food, but do you reconstruct it, too?” There was another shift, Will practically plastering himself to every part of Hannibal he could reach.

Hannibal, unable to resist the temptation of the delectable heat behind him, pressed back, his right hand reaching up to grab onto Will’s forearm. In this position, he could feel warm breaths against his neck and the gentle rise and fall of Will’s chest. Despite the topic of conversation, the rate of Will’s heart didn’t pick up – the lack of acceleration more thrilling than a flare of excitement would’ve been. Finding someone so similar to himself was disarming, and yet, Hannibal didn’t know what he might do without it now that he understood the taste. His palette was redefined, covered and shaped by his darkness and its interaction with Will’s.

“And now? After getting to know me – what do you see?” Hannibal questioned, his back pressing more firmly against Will’s chest. The thickness of Will’s erection was there against his back, heat and want adding to the odd intensity they found themselves in.

A nip to the neck tore a sigh from Hannibal’s throat, the answer to Will’s interest now smashed up against the zipper of his pants – the well-tailored suit slacks for once a nuisance, hindering his pleasure. Not usually so submissive, Hannibal fought against the urge to turn around and pin Will to the counter – these moments where Will shed the façade were few and far between. These interactions acted as gates opening to the empathetic mystery.

Will’s hand on his cheek had Hannibal turning his head, their lips joining in a warm kiss. He could feel the patches of Will’s hand that were still wet with blood – the liquid smearing wherever work-rough hands touched. The scent of copper and sweat were prominent in the space between them; an aphrodisiac if Hannibal ever knew one.

Tongues tangled in a desperate attempt to draw something from each other. When Will kissed, or touched, or even looked – the air went a little thin and every part of Hannibal was on display.  Empathy or not, Will’s ability to look past the heavy walls and see within was unmatched and equal parts confusing and tranquil in its own right.

Parting for air became necessary – in their tussle to be as close as possible, Will pressed him hard against the counter. There was no space between their chests, no room to draw in a breath, even if he wanted to. Hannibal used his extra weight to lean forward, effectively cutting their kiss off. His chest heaved, and with every pulsing beat, Hannibal felt his cock throb – the timing of it eerily close to the pace of Will’s huffed out breaths.

Sure hands were quick to grab onto him again, Will used his leverage to turn Hannibal around – the two men practically nose to nose. The easy way Will stripped him down to this person that just did what was prompted, it was disarming and intoxicating all at once.

Those same hands were cupping his face then, Will’s thumb lightly running across Hannibal’s bottom lip. Will took his time looking Hannibal over, the tender brush of the man’s empathy caressing his skin. “I think you’re an artist, Hannibal. Sometimes you like the audience,” Will peppered kisses around the skin of his mouth as he spoke, “and sometimes, you keep your brutality all to yourself. I’m willing to bet that several names in the media over the last few years apply to you.”

“Such a clever boy you are, Will,” Hannibal said in reply, both hands wrapping around Will’s hips. “My most recent hunts have been underground, but one day – very soon, you’ll truly see me.” There was a soft breath shared, and then their lips were upon each other again.

It didn’t take but a few steps to get down the hall and into the study – the idea of walking up the stairs completely out of the question. In their time together, Hannibal was quick to understand that the physical urge to own and connect would come whenever and wherever it wanted. Will carried chaos with him and used it to his advantage – his impulsive, yet completely strategic actions were off putting and wild – absolutely delicious in its juxtaposition. Each of the rooms in his house now stored lube in at least one of its drawers.

There was only so much expensive olive oil Hannibal could let go to the cause.

Hands fumbled to rid bodies of clothing while trying to keep the tension of lip on lip. Hannibal made quick work of Will’s blue and green flannel; his fingers nimble on the buttons. A gasp left Will’s lips when fingers made their first touch on bare skin – an entire army of gooseflesh overtaking the sensitive flesh.

By the time they made it into the study, Will’s pants were hanging open, the belt flapping wildly with every movement. Hannibal, on the other hand, still wore his waistcoat and shirt, both of which were unbuttoned, yet hanging off his shoulders. His cock pressed ruthlessly against the seam of his dress pants, and every part of him ached to have Will in any way on offer.

Huffing out an exasperate breath, Will stepped back from their embrace. He made quick work of the clothes that still clung to him, his cock slapping his belly obscenely as the last layer fell to the ground. His eyes were ablaze, the usual blue of them completely overtaken by the lusty black that made Hannibal think of paranormal beings – beautiful little monsters with dark eyes and so many tricks under their sleeves.

“Have I told you how much I dislike all the layers you wear? While sexy, the suit takes so damn long to get off,” Will grumbled, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip. “I’m not patient enough right now, either.”

As he spoke, Will climbed onto the couch, his forearms settling against the armrest – the rest of his body a delicious temptation. Knowing how good he looked, Will glanced over his shoulder, a devilish glint in his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything, either – he simply maintained eye contact and reached behind himself, deft, coppery red fingers prying his ass cheeks apart; the cherry pink of his hole on provocative display.

“Take it off, Hannibal – or don’t. Just get over here and fuck me.”

Unable to think any further than that request, Hannibal shrugged off his waistcoat and practically dove onto the couch behind Will. He let his eyes roam over every inch of Will he could before impatient hips pressed back against him. The string between divine and desperate constantly hung in the balance – Hannibal frequently forgot the things he learned over the years; control and patience no longer existing.

Ducking between the delectable spread that was Will in that moment, Hannibal allowed himself to take in a long breath. The earthy musk sat in the back of his nose – his senses overcome with how manly and right the scent registered to be. It was a catalyst, the final notes of reign over himself falling as he tucked in and let the entire expanse of his tongue press against Will’s most intimate spot.

Like a man starving, Hannibal set about claiming his prize. He started with small licks around the rim, Will’s muscles already starting to relax under such simple ministrations. The first taste drove him mad with hunger, his tongue flattening after the first few teasing brushes to press more insistently against the still tight pucker. Pushing Will’s hands away, Hannibal took over the job of spreading supple cheeks, his longer fingers pushed into the flesh. Wanting more width, Hannibal shifted, practically yanking the globes even further apart.

The pleasure-pain of it tore a growl from Will’s lips, the man pressing his hips back against Hannibal’s face roughly in retaliation. Though he could see the redness start to overtake skin, Hannibal continued on – he felt familiar enough with Will’s interests to know that his counterpart appreciated the heat of pain just as much as delicate pleasure.

An abundance of spit both on Will’s skin and around Hannibal’s mouth and chin made the whole process easier – the point of his tongue and the tip of a rogue finger were easily admitted access. Little by little, Will loosened around him. Hannibal’s ministrations, like the rest of him, were precise – dealt with the intention of taking Will to pieces. Yet, Hannibal felt like he was the one falling apart; every rough touch and drawn out moan felt like a hit straight to the soul.

No one – not even Mischa, laid Hannibal so bare to the world. Especially with something as simple as a well-placed look or cleverly worded demand.

Only Will.

Groaning at the thought, Hannibal pulled back, a hand coming up to wipe away some of the moisture from his face. His chest was heaving, the cardiovascular system within him used to heavy lifting, not marathon tongue fucking.

The small gap in movement and Hannibal’s preoccupation was just enough for Will to once again take control of the situation. Where he was splayed against the side of the couch just moments before, Will was now facing Hannibal, his eyes alight.

Strong hands pushed against Hannibal’s shoulders until his own back was resting against the opposite arm rest, his long legs stretched across the entire length of the couch. Will settled into his lap nicely – strong thighs bracketed Hannibal’s, each clench and pulse of muscle bringing them closer, magnifying the feeling of touch and stimulus. Hannibal didn’t even have his pants off, yet, he felt just inches from the delirious cusp of that little death.

Hannibal watched with a contained awe as Will reached for the end table drawer – his brain was so strung out, he completely forgot that lube existed there. The soft slam of it being closed snapped him out of his haze. Hannibal tried to make quick work of getting his pants open – though, was quickly thwarted by Will, who merely let him get the zipper down before he was reaching in and grabbing Hannibal’s cock without any sort of finesse.

Will impatiently opened the lube and poured a decent amount directly onto Hannibal’s length – his teeth gritting against the cold of it. Fingers followed the flow. Will’s hand wrapping around the girth of him brought sharp canines down into a kiss swollen lip – Hannibal never had to fight so hard with the quick to cum trigger reflex that attempted to fail him right that instant. Fingers were tight around him for too short a time; instead, they trailed from his swollen flesh and found their way to Will’s hole, the man fingering himself open just enough to spread the slick.

Before Hannibal took his next breath, or had a second to find some control, Will lowered himself onto Hannibal’s rigid cock – their joint pants of exertion sounding around the room, overtaking the entire space. In an attempt to stop himself from finishing right that very second, Hannibal gripped Will’s hips tightly – his fingernails digging into the skin there, each one drawing up little welts of blood; Hannibal’s mark visible now, too.

“Fuck, Will – don’t move. Please,” Hannibal mumbled, his forehead resting against Will’s breastbone, his chest heaving with short, abortive breaths.

The slightest roll of hips was Hannibal’s answer – Will adjusting their position to better fit his own comfort.

While more movement did not follow, the filthiest words did, instead. With his hands gripping either side of Hannibal’s neck, Will used his leverage to tilt Hannibal’s head up until they were looking eye to eye.

“You look good like this – completely undone. Your clothes are less than immaculate, there’s wrinkles and sweat stains. Your pants are barely open and, in this moment, there’s nothing that could get you to care any less about it. I wonder what you would say if you saw yourself – splayed open like the pigs we hunt, looking at me like I’m both judge and executioner. Do you think you would like what you saw?”

Biting down hard on his lip, Hannibal fought each second to keep their eye contact – the words were delicious, and so eerily on point. Nodding his head seemed to be the best course of action – words were failing him, his brain short circuiting one neuron at a time.

How did Will get to the very core of him? With all things considered, Hannibal constructed walls that no one else came close to touching, let alone blowing apart the way Will seemed to. It felt like losing himself in a way – giving up those pieces to be cared for by this beautiful monster of a man.

Sensing Hannibal’s dilemma, Will started to move his hips in earnest. His rhythm a perfect distraction. There was a subtle roll down Hannibal’s length, then a powerful drive up until only the tip occupied space. Up and down, over and over – Will drove him closer to a new kind of insanity. This one would take everything from him; mind, body, soul – even the heart that didn’t seem to exist until the murderous temptation that Will embodied walked so easily into his life.

For a few exquisite minutes, Hannibal clenched Will’s hips tightly in his hands while the man worked him over. At one point, Hannibal wondered if Will got off more on the power, than the actual physical closeness – but, a particular hard drive into the man’s prostate made the answer obvious. Power over Hannibal drew him to madness. The power of Hannibal’s body and the pleasure he could achieve from it – that gave him strength.

“Don’t hold back anymore, Hannibal. I want you to own me,” Will whispered against raw lips.

With the permission to do so, Hannibal surged up – their barely there kisses turning into something brutal as his grip tightened on Will’s hips, his own finally breaking free of the self-induced confines to pound ruthless up and into the tightest heat ever experienced.

He felt wild and completely undone – his being only used to this adrenaline pumping feeling after the satisfaction of a hunt well done. It was crazy to be so unleashed, and yet, Hannibal let himself go, anyway; what Will wanted, he got.

When finality became something he could no longer hold back, Hannibal leaned forward and dug his teeth into Will’s shoulder – his teeth marks from previous encounters still there, getting deeper and more defined by the bite. He clenched his jaw down and with the skin still between his teeth, came harder than ever before (which was saying something, because sex with Will was always an adventure). The rhythmic pulse and flutter around his length signaled Will’s jump over the cliff edge with him.

Sticky cum in the space between their chests seemed pedestrian after such a connection. Physical representation of their joining didn’t matter – the mental connection overwhelmed it all.

The come down a few minutes later consisted of blood in his mouth, long drawn in breaths, and the feeling of Will’s palms on his cheeks. It felt like too much effort to fight anything from that point on, so he leaned back, his eyes catching Will’s. Their shared look made his stomach clench – the overwhelming feeling of being taken apart more alive in that moment than their entire coupling.

“Will – “ Hannibal tried to say, his voice so thick and scratchy from pulled out moans, new feelings, and heavy sighs.

Will’s thumbs brushed chiseled cheekbones, the flat of his fingers settling on the edge of Hannibal’s square jaw. “Shh,” he said in reply, their lips joining for a surprisingly soft kiss. “I know – me too.”

----

After that night, something shifted. For so long, Hannibal conducted himself as a solitary creature – life was simpler when his plans consisted of his own wants and desires. Even after meeting Will initially, Hannibal figured things would stay separate – work, play, and the occasional murder taking up their own sphere in his life. The sudden realization that neither he, nor Will, wanted any sort of separation, was monumental. In almost fifty years, Hannibal never saw something like this coming.

With the addition of Will in mind, Hannibal went about planning his next tableau. The Ripper hadn’t made an appearance in a while and his sounders were due. Will understood what it meant to take someone’s life – their shared desire to see the light in someone’s eyes fade was apparent. And yet, Will chose to elevate his prey by making them into meals that anyone would drool over.

In his own experience, Hannibal appreciated the consumption of his victims because of the control it gave him – they weren’t worthy of anything in life and as their flesh passed his lips, their sole source of meaning was to feed him, to nourish him – to provide the needed macro and micro nutrients that were essential to life.

Even still, The Ripper’s message took things a step further. The elevation of murder into widespread art truly spoke of Hannibal’s innermost feelings. Most people were beneath him and their only redeemable quality was their ability to be changed into priceless beauty. In his attempt to boost the lowest of low, Hannibal found himself – power of the hammer and all.

If anyone were to truly understand him and the tangible personification of his darkest and most intimate thoughts, Will Graham continuously proved he could be that person. With eyes that already saw so much, Will simply needed a nudge to truly see Hannibal – in every way.

Though completely terrifying, the thought brought about a new sort of excitement, too. To truly be seen and understood – Hannibal never even fathomed the occurrence. Living outside the confines of society came at a price, and no matter how many people graced his dinner table or laughed at his well-timed jokes, a divide between him and them existed. People turned a blind eye to what they didn’t want to see – it was easier to ignore the things in front of them than genuinely accept inferiority.

Will, though – he gripped the chains of normalcy and broke them between his fingers. Still trying to piece together the extent of his empathy, Hannibal didn’t quite know the complete depth of Will’s ability to truly see. In the same breath, Hannibal swore that he could feel the intensity of the unique gift in everything Will did. While Hannibal wore a finely tailored person suit, Will used his ability to become the things people revered and those they feared whole heartedly – so simply, with just the roll of his shoulders and a long, deep breath.

The Ripper deserved the right audience and finally, after so much time of not knowing how much he truly wanted the echoing applause, Hannibal found someone worthy of it.

Planning such a grandiose thing took time. For weeks, Hannibal went about everything as usual. On the nights that Will cooked late, Hannibal made the trip out to Wolf Trapp – his Bentley eating up the miles with relative ease. Winston, who took a liking to Hannibal immediately (he was sure the freshly made sausage had a lot to do with that), expected play time and pets before Hannibal could even think about joining Will in the kitchen.

The weekends, however, those belonged to Hannibal. Unless otherwise occupied with a last-minute client, Will spent both days in the glorious confines of Hannibal’s fancy brick and mortar. Most of that time, admittedly, was spent in the kitchen – Will’s passion for food (and not just that of the human variety) kept things interesting. There was always a new knife technique to try or a rare ingredient to add to the mundane. When they weren’t cooking away, or eating their weight in their creations, both men simply existed together.

Will let Hannibal sketch him in whatever way requested, and in return, Hannibal brushed his fingers through Will’s hair as he perused cookbooks and academic articles. A give and take existed that shouldn’t – not between two very peculiar men who took to murdering others as a hobby. And yet, Will kissed him goodbye when Hannibal mentioned something about hunting on his way out the door. Picture perfect domestic bliss.

One particular weekend a few months after falling into such a routine, Hannibal convinced Will to join him at the opera. After weeks of preparation and recognizance, he finally felt ready to reveal his most coveted persona to the man that quickly became the most important part of Hannibal’s existence. Why not make a night of it?

As usual, they made dinner together – Will’s latest victim’s kidney made for a delicious steak and kidney pie. The crust was buttery and flaky, rolled thin to perfection. When it came out of the oven, Will preened at the proud look on Hannibal’s face.

“Looks amazing, Chef,” Hannibal complimented, his fingers already twitching to scoop a fork into the molten confines of golden pastry.

Will continued to beam as the table was set and Hannibal, in all of his unselfish glory, handed over the serving spoon. Despite being the one to take the lead on most of their meals, Will gave the dishing out honor to Hannibal – even at his own table. There was a power dynamic that existed, and each man understood their role.

Will sent him a genuinely intrigued look, his eyebrow lifting. Instead of questioning, however, he simply gripped the utensil and went about portioning out their meal.

They made small talk throughout the devouring of their joint efforts – Hannibal spoke of his latest client’s swiftly developing obsession with him and watched delightedly as Will grew more menacing by the second. Franklyn never stood a chance, but the opportunity to push at Will’s boundaries wasn’t something he wanted to pass up. Jealousy, though such a base emotion, could lead a person astray very quickly. For the first time, Hannibal wanted the tenacity and rage that came with the juggling act. Someone he craved wanted him just as much and would fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.

And though not entirely thrilled to be amongst the masses in a “penguin suit”, Will cleaned up nicely – the tailored tuxedo was midnight black, enhanced with a single, dark pinstripe down the side of each pant leg. He finished the look with a stark white shirt and black bow tie – elegant and simple, yet dangerous at the same time.

Finishing up his own look, Hannibal retreated from his walk-in to find Will casually seated on the edge of the bed. Merely lounging there, he looked absolutely exquisite.

His eyes were closed and for a moment, Hannibal wondered if he were asleep sitting up. He cleared his throat in an attempt to rouse Will, his long legs carrying him until there was only a couple of inches separating them.

Blue eyes blinked open slowly, a faraway look overtaking Will’s face before finally registered Hannibal’s presence.

“Are you feeling alright?” Hannibal asked, concern heavy in his voice. He reached to press a hand to Will’s forehead and found the skin there warm, the slightest bit of moisture sitting just barely on the surface. All tell-tale signs of an oncoming fever.

Reaching up to grab Hannibal’s hand and lacing their fingers together tightly, Will attempted a smile – the man’s mask not as secure as usual.

“I’m fine – just a bit of a headache. I haven’t been sleeping very well the last few nights, so it’s probably just some fatigue.” While he spoke, Will got up from the bed, his persona shifting with a soft roll of his shoulders. Now cognizant, the process came easily. His eyes were already a little clearer and any sort of weakness that existed in seconds before, was completely gone. Will Graham, the unsuspecting chef, Hannibal’s partner, stood in front of him once more.

“Are you finally ready?” Will asked, an eyebrow quirking.

Shaking the worry off, Hannibal grinned at the cheeky question. In their time together, certain habits made themselves known. Will drooled when in deep sleep and didn’t always pick up his wet towels. And while completely put together outside of the walls of his room, Hannibal was fussy and took a lot of time to get ready – the construction of his person suit more time consuming and labor intensive than Will’s would ever be.

“Snarky thing,” Hannibal immediately remarked. He pressed forward to press a chaste kiss to Will’s forehead. “Let’s go, darling. I have something for you after the show and am suddenly impatient to gift it.”

Will’s simple nod brought a brief surge of panic to his chest, but he quickly brushed it off. Though not the reaction he thought he’d get, the line of sweat still painting Will’s brow reminded him of the blurriness he encountered just moments before.

Leaning in again, Hannibal tucked his nose into Will’s neck and took a deep breath. Apart from the normal smells of bergamot, vanilla, and the slightest bit of wet dog, Hannibal scented something warm and sweet – the rising fever in the other’s skin taking on the body of over-ripened fruit.

He was met with the same intrigued look from their time at the dinner table when he pulled back. In an instant, Hannibal suddenly realized that was Will’s way of expressing his curiousness. Will usually pieced together the situation before it happened and reacted accordingly. Most people broadcasted their thoughts and feelings unconsciously, and Will’s intelligence made it easy to fill in the blanks. Hannibal, however, kept things locked tight – meticulous thought and effort went into making sure people received the exact message he wanted them to.

Though completely disarming himself, Will found a peculiar sort of mystery in Hannibal – the appeal of the unknown one of the things Hannibal could easily tell attracted Will to him so holistically. Like the true predator he was, Will enjoyed the chase. One that they both knew would probably never dull with the lifestyle they both kept.

The realization made his heart drum rapidly; love never took on a definition before, but in that moment, Hannibal finally understood. How interesting the realization came barreling towards him so out of the blue, yet so naturally. Like companionship – love didn’t ever seem like an option.

A soft touch on his cheek brought Hannibal back to the room – he blinked quickly, smiling to cover up the absentmindedness. The same curious look was on Will’s face, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s.

“Are you okay?” Will asked, his other hand pressing against Hannibal’s chest. “We might be late if we don’t go soon.”

That was all Hannibal needed to get back into gear – they made quick work of getting into jackets and climbing into the car. Hannibal held the door open for Will and before he could sit down, pressed a kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to butter me up – I’m already in the tux.” The words came out of his mouth, yet Will couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks or the duck of his head.

The drive over was uneventful – there wasn’t any talking, but the soft tones of Mozart kept the atmosphere calm and serene. Will’s hand landed on Hannibal’s thigh halfway to the venue – Hannibal dragged his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the megawatt smile from overtaking his face. Instead, he wrapped Will’s hand up with his own, their fingers tangling effortlessly.

Out of all the reasons why Hannibal donated to the arts, the preferred parking had to be one of the best among them. He pulled into his designated space a while later and shot will a playful wink.

Will snorted, his head shaking – “pretentious prick.”

They arrived just in time to schmooze for a few minutes before having to take their seats – a fact that Hannibal was over the moon about. Through months of dating, he never got the opportunity to show Will off. Aside from the fact that the man shone with impressive energy, Hannibal selfishly wanted everyone to see who he managed to attract; a very special man came into his life and despite it all, chose to stand proudly by his side.

With a soft kiss to Will’s cheek, Hannibal gestured to the bar. “I’m going to grab us a drink. I’d like to introduce you to a few people, if you’re not opposed.”

“I don’t mind – you’ve been dying to show me off for ages. I’m surprised you were able to wait this long,” Will retorted, a look of absolute knowing on his face. He casually slipped his hands into his pockets, the needed mask for the occasion slipping into place. “You know where to find me.”

Turning, Hannibal glided easily to the bar, ordering the same vintage chardonnay he always did and a whiskey neat for Will. The bartender recognized him immediately, the gold membership card that sat in his breast pocket unneeded.

“I’ll put it on your tab, Doctor Lecter.”

“Thank you, Tyler. It’s a pleasure, as always.” He saluted the younger man with the drinks in his hand and set off to find Will.

Without even having to try, Will drew people to him. The ever-curious Mrs. Ellen Komeda stood proudly in front of his beau, her eyes cataloguing him sharply. In a lot of ways, the two of them were very similar. Where Ellen lacked the empathy, she made up for it in pure grit and tenacity. She could read a room because she knew just about everyone and everything in it. Someone like Will, a gorgeous outsider, more than likely called to her from the moment she saw him.

“Where have you been hiding this one, Hannibal? He’s an absolute delight,” Ellen remarked the second he was within conversing distance. She eyed him up, then nodded approvingly.

Handing Will his drink, Hannibal let his now free hand wrap around Will’s waist. A moment existed where he thought Will might tense up, but he simply leaned in closer – the doting boyfriend act both natural and highly manipulative. What a delightful boy.

“We’re both busy men. Will here is the mastermind behind that delectable pate from my last dinner party.” The pride he felt carried over in his voice – people knew how Hannibal felt about food; the compliment held a lot of weight.

From the surprise on Ellen’s face, she too understood the sentiment.

“That’s high praise indeed. When I didn’t see you still wrapped in your apron when I arrived, I should have figured something was up.” She turned to Will then, her smile challenging. “Tell me Will, how did you charm the good doctor so?”

Seemingly unable to stop himself, Will chuckled, then pressed himself closer to Hannibal. “I bumped into him in a gourmet cheese shop. My refined palette was the major selling point.”

Before anyone else could say anything, a gentleman making his way into their little group stopped the conversation in its tracks. Hannibal watched Will’s eyes flash, the other man’s arm tightening around him. It was a minute reaction but telling all the same. He pulled at the seams of his person suit, the edges tightening up imperceptibly.

Luckily, Ellen saved them all, her social graces without fail. “Mr. Bowerman, it’s been some time since I last saw you at the opera.” Her mouth quirked as she spoke, like the words were bent nails in her mouth.

“Yes, well – since my wife’s passing, getting out to these fancy shindigs isn’t nearly as fun.” He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes shifting to Hannibal, only to linger on Will a second later.

“Walter Bowerman,” the man announced. The words were spoken into the open nothingness of the air, but his eyes – they were glued to Will.

A rush of murderous rage ran down Hannibal’s spine, his nostrils flaring.

Will didn’t miss a beat though, the brilliant boy he was. Tossing back his drink, Will waved the empty glass at the newcomer, a neutral look on his face. “Walter.” The single word was dismissive, only to be aided with a subtle turn of his body. He flashed a smile at Mrs. Komeda next, his expression softening slightly. “Ellen, it was glorious to meet you. Have Hannibal pass on my information – I’d love to cook for you some time.”

Understanding without any further prompting, Hannibal bid them both an absent goodbye and let himself be led by Will. He watched blue eyes track down a waiter, where he deposited his glass before continuing towards the theater door.

There wasn’t a sound made until they were alone in Hannibal’s booth – Will’s face was sweaty again, eyes slightly hazy. “Is it common knowledge that Walter Bowerman killed his wife?” Will asked lightly, breaking the silence. He swiped at his brow, looking a little off kilter.

Thrown off by the bluntness of Will’s words, Hannibal tuned out everything but the question. A sliver of pride sat in his chest at the other’s deductive abilities – Hannibal instantly knew there was something off but wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what. Will’s mind – it was a beautiful thing.

“Tonight happened to be the first time I’ve made his acquaintance – Ellen seemed put off, but I think the interruption to our conversation played a big part in that. You are very charming,” Hannibal admitted easily. Even he had been impressed.

“He got pleasure from mentioning his wife’s death. There was that murderous glint in his eye that just felt – wrong.” He moved to continue, but the stage lights flickered, and the heavy curtain started to pull back.

For a while, previous interactions fled from Hannibal’s mind – the mind-numbing drift a welcome gift after the stress of the evening. He let Will take his hand before the aria started, the touch the only anchor he wanted to the present. After a beat, the soprano opened her mouth and started to sing. Merely relaxing back, Hannibal let the music wash over him.

About halfway through the first act, a tightening grip on his hand brought Hannibal out of his mind space, a confused look on his face for a split second before it was quickly replaced by worry. Will’s face was covered in sweat and his chest seemed to be heaving, despite the dwindling awareness. He looked at Hannibal helplessly, mouth opening around unspoken pleas.

Finally, Will managed to grab ahold of himself for a second – his words a little slurred when he babbled out – “I think there’s something wrong.”

Acting quickly, Hannibal jumped out of his seat, suddenly glad for the privacy of his usual booth. Getting up wouldn’t disturb anyone, so there was room to get Will out however he needed. The man was cognizant enough to help Hannibal pull him out of the chair, but that only went as far as the hallway outside of their seats before Will went limp. The seizure that followed so nicely allowed Hannibal to get Will to the bathroom, the convulsions starting the second he got them pressed against the solid surface of the door.

His hands cupped Will’s cheeks, the grip of them strong to keep the back of his head from smacking against anything. Will’s eyes were open, but the pupils were completely blown – there was no focus or constriction whatsoever. Holding Will as tightly as possible, Hannibal rode out the storm.

When the shaking stopped, Hannibal counted out five minutes before Will came back around – his once slack body clenched all at once, fear and confusion flowing through him. “H-Hannibal?” Will chocked out, the syllables running together.

Bringing his face up to do a quick check of blue eyes, Hannibal let out a breath. There was finally some response in the dark pupils. He ran his thumbs softly over the apple of Will’s cheeks, maroon eyes roaming everywhere at once. “Are you with me, Will? You just had a seizure and you’re burning up. Can you hear me?”

“Hannibal?” Will questioned again, his chest heaving once more.

Unable to stop himself, Hannibal leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Will’s cheek – the contact just as much for him as it was for the confused man in his arms; an earthshattering need for comfort overwhelming. They needed to get out of there while Will was still upright and conscious. The increased heart rate and continued confusion meant there wasn’t much time left to do that.

Instead of forcing Will to respond anymore, Hannibal got them into a position where he could take most of Will’s weight – thankfully, Will was with it enough to walk with the help. The lobby was empty – an absence of sound appropriate to the situation at hand.

Being in the heart of downtown made getting to a hospital quick and easy. Every couple of minutes, Hannibal reached across the middle console to check on Will, his heart slamming into his chest in the scant seconds between touching and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Though the seizures didn’t return, Will’s consciousness diminished with each passing second.

The Bentley skidded to a stop outside the emergency room doors, Hannibal hopping out in a fit of adrenaline – he threw open Will’s door to pick him up bridal style. There was a second where their eyes met, a brief connection before Will slumped into him, his fight with whatever was burning him up coming to a swift end.

----

It took two days for Will to completely regain consciousness.

Throughout those two days, Hannibal worried incessantly, sat by Will’s bedside, and didn’t think once about the tableau he set up that was probably discovered by the authorities, already.

Being so thorough in his work, Hannibal didn’t use a sing brain byte to dwell on it – there wasn’t any evidence. There never was.

After carrying Will into the ER in the most dramatic fashion as possible, the hustle and bustle of brain scans and medication deployment took up all the space in Hannibal’s mind. In the bouts of time that Will got swept away, Hannibal went home to shower and change; once, he made the trip out to Wolf Trapp to get Winston and clear out the remainder of Will’s fridge. No matter what happened, a hospital stay was in Will’s future. The least Hannibal could do was take care of his dog and make the already harvested meat into delicacies to be eaten when Will felt better.

Despite trying to keep busy with arrangements and appointment reschedules, the minutes between Will’s decent into unconsciousness and his waking were long and torturous. The encephalitis diagnosis made a lot of sense after thinking about Will’s behavior over the last few weeks. The increase of headaches and nightmares, a dwindling appetite, and large periods of losing track of time were all there pointing in brain swelling’s direction.

It was pure luck that Will’s body had such a severe reaction to the neurological change. If things were different, he might’ve dived very slowly into madness; both visual and auditory hallucinations were common symptoms of Will’s particular brand of encephalitis. The spike of fever came at just the right time – the majority of his treatment would be minimally invasive and able to be given outside of the hospital.

The most confusing part of the whole situation was Hannibal’s feelings towards it all. Of course, Will couldn’t help the fact that he thwarted plans that were many months in the making. Yet, the anger he figured would sit under his skin, waiting to erupt, didn’t exist. Instead, Hannibal felt the claws of worry drag along his back.

Every second that Will didn’t wake up, Hannibal dipped a little further into unease. Going fifty years without the look in Will’s eyes was one thing, but now that he knew – now that the feeling crept under his walls, there was no going back. How did he exist without the rambunctiousness and intelligence that accompanied the experience that was Will Graham?

His earlier thoughts about love came back to him with a not so delicate slam to the chest. The world felt like it was ending without the shine of Will’s personality surrounding him because of the love he felt for the man. And what a thought – being in love with a soul so similar to his own. The match they made was perfect and for many reasons, shouldn’t exist whatsoever. Yet, Hannibal could barely remember what life felt like without Will in it.

He didn’t want to, either.

When Will eventually completely came to, Hannibal had his forehead pressed against their joined hands – his eyes closed in a desperate attempt to escape to the happier rooms in his mind palace. It was getting more difficult to filter everything out, so the halls were more cluttered than usual. The immense distraction almost made him miss the gentle squeeze to his hand – Will’s fingers tightened around his own for the first time in more than fifty hours.

Sitting up, Hannibal didn’t have a chance to stop the affectionate smile from slipping across his lips. His chest felt a little lighter – Will’s eyes were the same shade of deep blue and shining just as brightly as he remembered. The glassy nature of them was to be expected, the physiological expression of symptoms a reassurance that the body was actively fighting. After what seemed like years of waiting and worrying, Hannibal found comfort in all of Will’s disarray, bed head and sleepy smiles included.

“Hannibal?” Will questioned softly, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being unused. Upon hearing it, Hannibal reached to press the nurse’s button to get Will some water – they would want to know he was awake, anyway.

“Will – I’m so glad to see you,” Hannibal admitted easily, his body ditching the chair to sit on the edge of Will’s bed. He craved the length of Will pressed against him, any sort of familiar weight, really. Just the sign that the man was alive and with him was more than enough.

Reaching up to brush a curl from Will’s forehead, Hannibal spoke up again. “It’s been a couple of days since you last opened your eyes. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Will mumbled immediately, his brows pinching together with every move as he adjusted. “You said two days? Did this happen at the opera? Hannibal, I’m – “

“Don’t even begin to apologize, Will. Your brain was on fire – the last thing I’m worried about is a subpar rendition of Don Giovanni.” There was a beat, then a subtle move forward to press lips to Will’s still clammy skin. “I’m relieved you’re going to be okay, Will. Everything else is moot.”

There wasn’t much talking after that – the exhaustion Will complained about took him under shortly after coming around. The nurses were able to document his stats and get a doctor in to see him before fatigue won out and Will became lost to sleep once again.

To occupy himself, Hannibal let his emotions run wild across the pages of his sketchpad. Despite being exhausted himself, sleep did not come. Memories and things yet to come crept through the halls of his mind – his hand manifesting them on the smooth paper at record breaking speed. With all of his energy drained, Will made the perfect model. Hannibal found himself able to get the man’s lips right for the first time he laid pencil to paper. Drawing his partner in a much happier state of being made coping a little easier – the smile he could replicate brought a warmth that Hannibal couldn’t admit he wanted with him at all times. Though, he so desperately did.

A hand on the top of his sketchbook brought him out of his artistic stupor. Hannibal moved quickly, sliding his fingers between Will’s before the hand could retreat, or suddenly disappear like he feared. The skin there was warm, but not scalding like the days previous. When their eyes met, the blue depth of Will’s seemed much clearer – like the rest was actually doing him some good.

“She looks like you,” Will said, turning his attention back to the sketch pad he reached for initially. “Who is she?”

The feeling of being exposed washed over him for a second, Hannibal pulling in a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. A Thursday in the middle of the night wasn’t how he figured his past would come to light – dark news needed an ideal setting. And yet, what better way to break down the last wall between them?

“This is Mischa, my sister. Even after all these years, I’ve never been able to do her true justice,” Hannibal replied, his voice just steps away from melancholic. “She was this beautiful spirit – free and intense. Kind of like you, actually.” A soft smile overtook his features, the truth of that statement ringing in his ears.

No wonder.

Will’s hand tightened slightly, the fatigue keeping him weak in his touch. “Mischa – I like that. She’s beautiful. You both have that little curl in your nose.”

A laugh escaping Hannibal’s chest broke whatever tension remained – the depths of his chest finally clear. The days of worry and not-sleeping were catching up to him, and like it was so natural to do, Will cleaned the chaos up, his words sweeping out the cobwebs Hannibal let develop. Sucking in another long breath, Hannibal let that last bit of himself in hiding step out into the light.

There was another clear shift in the air between them then, the softness in Will’s eyes something that didn’t exist before that very moment. While so wrapped up in his own masks and Will’s ability to see through them, Will was sneakily putting himself up for display, too. Breaking down walls brought about a gentleness that didn’t befit ruthless murders, and yet – Will caressed Hannibal’s hand softly, the touch for comfort’s sake alone.

Without being prompted or asked, Will moved until a spot that maybe half of Hannibal could fit into appeared. Taking the offer for what it was, Hannibal dropped his sketch pad on the table, the pencil sitting lovingly over the cupid bow of Mischa’s lip. He climbed in, the two of them rearranging limbs until Hannibal’s arms were wrapped tightly around Will. It took a second to settle – then, sleep came quickly and kept them under for the rest of the night.

Will spent another two days in the hospital before Hannibal could convince the staff of his capabilities as a doctor. They were willing to release him after all of the intravenous drug administration was finished – the rest of Will’s recovery would be based around rest and recuperation, anyway.

There wasn’t any discussion about where Will would end up – the man simply climbed into Hannibal’s car, curled up in the passenger seat with his head in Hannibal’s lap, and slept on the trip back to Baltimore from the hospital. Hannibal made a quick trip home while Will sat in the MRI machine for the last time during his stay – both Winston and the kitchen were ready for Will’s arrival.

It took Will most of his energy to get from the car to the door, but when Winston came jogging around the corner, a burst of joy sent him two steps forward until he could easily wrap the dog warmly in his arms. The whispered “I missed you” into the dog’s fur more than making up for the hair on all the surfaces of the house.

When the reunion was over, Hannibal helped Will walk upstairs, the man already dead on his feet from just a couple of short encounters. That previously unnamed warmth took up space in Hannibal’s chest again – the overwhelming feeling of being so deliriously dedicated to another human being exhausting in its own right.

“I thought maybe you’d like to take a bath,” Hannibal said, his legs already carrying him towards the bathroom to start the water.

“Will you hold me, instead? I know I probably stink like hospital and it’s killing that nose of yours, but all I really want to do is be in your arms.”

Looking over his shoulder, Hannibal stopped in his tracks. There were no masks on Will’s face, in the moment, so raw and open. The man who stood before him was stripped bare and asking for something – when he usually did nothing of the sort. The warmth bubbled a little bit more, the intensity of it growing with every passing exchange. He didn’t need to think about what to do next – instead, he kicked off his shoes and went about turning the bed down.

Hannibal climbed in, reclining back against the nest of pillows. Though he figured he wouldn’t sleep, Hannibal was more than willing to simply sit and catalogue Will a little more. The replica in his mind palace wasn’t quite what he wanted, and the perusal of finer features was exactly what he needed to make the perfect rendering.

For a while, that’s how things went – Hannibal kept Will against his chest until the call of food preparation took precedence. It usually took all of Will’s energy to get downstairs to the table, so the first few meals were taken in bed.

Little by little, Will spent more time awake than asleep, the clarity of his thoughts returning as the days past. Surprisingly, the only thing that didn’t return was the mask Will wore. Maybe it was the lack of energy, or maybe – after all was said and done, there was no need for them anymore. Seeing and being seen – it did something to a person. Especially ones like Will and Hannibal.

Then, a Saturday morning two weeks after his diagnosis, Hannibal woke to the feeling of Will’s hands running down his chest and arms, nimble fingers pressing into skin, fingertips tracing and memorizing with every touch. Hannibal kept himself still, letting Will have whatever he wanted before the realization of having an audience occurred.

The rise and fall of Will’s chest sped up a little, his body heat rising for a much better reason than the earlier fever that ravaged him. Without meaning to, Hannibal shifted back into it – giving himself away in an instant.

“I know you’re awake,” Will mumbled against his spot on Hannibal’s neck, hips pressing forward ever so lightly.

Rolling over, Hannibal used the quick movement to pull Will under him, their bodies lining up from head to toe. Will’s legs opened just enough to allow Hannibal access to gap, the length of them wrapping around Hannibal’s hips in the next instant. There was a clench of muscle, then no space between them at all.

“I see you’re awake, too,” Hannibal whispered, his hips pressing down – erections grinding together with the barest of touches. “Are you feeling better?”

Hips pressing up for a longer drag of cock on cock was his only answer. Unable to ignore the call, Hannibal moved against him, the friction building there absolutely exquisite. They shifted and moved until their lips met and the oxygen in the room steadfastly escaped. Every pull of breath in was more of Will – more of his scent, more of his presence – more.

Though neither made any move to takes thing further along, Hannibal could feel the intimacy building up between them. It wasn’t so much about the heat of the physical, this particular moment more than just a sexual connection. Where Hannibal pulled, Will pushed – their hearts beating in tandem.

A crescendo didn’t carry them away – instead, a sort of peace overtook the room. The feeling so foreign that they looked and touched just to make sure the other existed – that after everything, the other was there and the affection that zinged between them wasn’t one sided. Two psychopaths falling in love was never on the top of anyone’s love story list, yet – it happened without either of them knowing.

When Hannibal pulled back this time, the words on the tip of his tongue, he let them fall effortlessly from his lips.

Brushing his nose against Will’s, Hannibal stayed close, the words “I love you” leaving his chest and sitting in the air. It felt odd and for half a second, he thought Will might not feel that way about him after all. The two, three, four beats of his heart before any sort of response were agonizing, both too short and much too long.

Those warms hands were there, though, Will’s palms cupping his cheeks and fingers digging into the longer hair around his temples. Their eyes met, maroon holding blue – and the worry melted away. No mask, after seeing past it, could hide the devotion existing in the ceaseless pools of gorgeous blue.

“I love you too, Hannibal.”

#hannigram #murder husbands #will graham/hannibal lecter #hannigram fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fanfic #persephone will have her fill #bobbie writes #will graham #hannibal lecter

[goremeat]

“A very well-tailored person suit” Hannibal Lecter as Genderqueer American Gothic Cannibal by Alena Kiel

#article archiving. #hannibal lecter #pop culture

[shinelikethunder]

the incredibly dissonant symmetry of Jame Gumb being referred to in the book as “a thing that feeds on tears” and Hannibal Lecter being referred to on the TV show as “wearing a very well-tailored person suit”

#hannibal #the silence of the lambs #hannibal lecter #jame gumb #a terrible thing. to have your identity taken from you. #meta #verging on shitpost but still meta #the shitposts are made of people

[kiss-my-freckle]

2x8 Rewatch: Su-zakana A small dish used to cleanse the palate.

This episode and the finale are my two favorite episodes of season two. 

The opening conversation between Will and Jack is about Hannibal, that's why Alana gets upset. A reality where only you and the fish exist, that's when she gets shoved aside for what Hannibal really wants. "Your lure is the one thing he wants, despite everything he knows." Despite Will already trying to kill Hannibal, despite Hannibal claiming he can't trust Will. The stressing of words is obvious, but funny. Will's turn to provide the meat, Hannibal's live bait sitting at the table. Back to what Hannibal said of him in season one. He doesn't just reflect, he absorbs. Will absorbed everything Hannibal put him through. "This fish is delicious." The writing is superb, I just love it. "We are the only ones who will know what this feels like." Back to Gideon's flashback scene. “I'm just fascinated to know how you will feel when all of this happens to you.” The bait is already imagining what Hannibal tastes like. What Gideon learned simply by listening.

I love how some bits of story end up in other bits of story. A human in a horse to a human in a pig. "The horse is a chrysalis, a cocoon meant to hold the young woman until her death could be transformed." How Will connects in this episode. "You'll have to find someone who doesn't think like anyone else to catch him." Hannibal isn't fooling anyone. That’s why Will is the best fisherman. It’s too bad Hannibal has a great sense of smell. 

There's so much wrong with Mason Verger, it's digusting. He's the character I hate most. He gets off on everything. "Doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good." Yes it does. I'm glad bad things happen to Mason. "The only thing stranger than finding a woman inside a horse... Is seeing you back in therapy with Will Graham." lmao! Hannibal questions if it's really that strange. Uhm... he tried to kill you, so yes. Hannibal feeds her a line to make her feel better about the situation. She's not the reason Will tried to kill him. 

A lot of discussion going on as they examine the victim, about cannibalism and absorption. Hannibal cannibalizes. Will absorbs. "Our experiences shape us. How is this experience going to shape Will?" So glad the drill didn't cut into the bird that was flapping in her chest. Will enters the stables, and he’s looking very attractive. "I don't want you to see me. I don't want you to see what I do. But I want to calm you, comfort you. There's so much comfort in darkness." Hannibal amongst horses with blindfolds. "I took your life and tried to give it back to you. I find the womb, and place you inside. I hope that the forces of death and biology will bring you rebirth." This theme of rebirth ends up in session with Hannibal. Transforming. Becoming. That's why Hannibal wanted him on this case, death and rebirth. He and Alana discussed it, how they both buried Will. He and Jack discussed it, how they were both mourning his death. I love Will's ability to understand people. The way he is with Peter is just... beautiful. He realizes how best to bait Hannibal, finds the answer in his own words. "I don't know if he's the killer, Jack. If he is, he never meant to be. And if he isn't, he knows who is." Playing the role of a killer. Jack in one corner, knowing he's not a killer. Hannibal in the other corner, believing that he is. A slow assuming of the role to make it appear real. This slow assuming of Will's killer role starts with Peter and the horse.

The theme of death and rebirth with the killer. The theme of death and rebirth in session with Will. There's huge reason for this, and that's Abigail, so I’m adding her flashback. "I'm so sorry, Abigail. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you in this life. Blood rituals involve a symbolic death, and then a rebirth." Hannibal has no idea Will is baiting him, Will has no idea Abigail is alive.

Hannibal talks about one dead creature giving birth to another. It makes me think of the Great Red Dragon and his wings. I love Will's response to Hannibal's denial. It serves a dual purpose. Denying makes it all the less real. He needs Hannibal all-in when he baits him. A real friendship is an honest one. "Stop right there. You may have to pretend, but I don't. I don't expect you to admit anything. You can't. But I prefer sins of omission to outright lies, Dr. Lecter. Don't lie to me." While baiting him, Will needs to be forceful, which can be felt in his tone. He sounds like a killer that's in control when he delivers this line. Admitting he fantasizes about killing Hannibal is a smart move. To say he doesn't would raise a red flag. Might as well be honest with what he can be honest about. From Margot to Will, "That doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good?"

My God, this line. "I don't want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter. Not now that I finally find you interesting." Here we are, back to the pilot episode. "I don't find you that interesting." This statement gives Hannibal reason to offer more of himself. If Will finds him interesting, then keep him interested. Back to what Gideon said. “It's hard to have anything isn't it? Rare to get it, hard to keep it." Hannibal has to keep Will's attention if he plans to keep Will. 

Brian said something that I felt of all the characters, and it’s one of the reasons I loved Beverly. "That didn't stop Beverly from questioning it."  Will works with the FBI. He's not an agent because of the screening process. He replays crimes for them. With the amount of evidence stacked against him, I would've questioned it. Someone like Will wouldn't be that dumb, and he certainly wouldn't push to prove a suicide is murder. Brian’s apology was genuine, that's why I started liking him this season. Margot is a nice cross-comparison.

Will's conversation with Peter, my God. "You couldn't save her, but you could bring poetry to her death." That's Abigail. "Do you have a shadow, Peter? Someone only you can see. Someone you considered a friend. He made you feel less alone. Until you saw what he really is." Peter has his own Hannibal. "No... No one will believe me. He'll make sure no one will believe me." Will was in a one-sided friendship. I thoroughly enjoy him this season.

He puts it out there for Hannibal.

Will: That's smart. She keeps pushing him on his feelings, not on the facts. She's trying to gauge how comfortable he is with emotion, if he has any. He couldn't bear being touched by her. Hannibal: Yes, his responses are typical of psychopaths during interviews, but could also be resentment. Will: No, his eyes are dead. He's a predator.

The cross-comparison with Hannibal and this social worker is hilarious. Back to fishing with Jack. "Make him act on instinct. He's always a predator." The social worker's person suit isn't well-tailored. Will takes a nice jab at Hannibal, but at the same time, he's upset because he cares about Peter. "Peter Bernardone is psychologically disadvantaged. He's been manipulated. As his social worker, this man is in a position of trust, and he has betrayed that trust." Jack fits nicely into his role. I really hate this social worker. He knows exactly how to hurt Peter, the healer of animals. Peter cries over the dead horse that kicked him in the head. Like Hannibal placing his murders on Will, this social worker places his on Peter. "If I had killed them, it would be because they were worthy of me." Hannibal views his victims as pigs. "I used to have... Used to have a horrible fear of... Of hurting anything. But... He helped me get over that." Will's fear, the price of his imagination. "What was done to you was cruelty for cruelty's sake." Will doesn't know how to feel. "I envy you your hate." He thinks hate would allow him to kill Hannibal. "I think I hate him." Love is a dominating feeling. Even with as much as his social worker hurt him, love dominates. I think Peter's words give Will direction in his plan. "I just wanted him to... To understand what it's like to... To suffocate and to... To... To experience the destiny that he created." 

Hannibal shown petting a lamb as the social worker climbs out of the horse. A nice foreshadow of things to come. Hannibal is hilarious. "Might want to crawl back in there if you know what's good for you." Will doesn’t plan to kill the social worker. He and Hannibal just had this conversation. "You're not alone, Will. I'm standing right beside you." They're now playing on that conversation. Will is baiting with the idea first, allowing Hannibal to believe he's capable, this allows him to believe everything that follows. "With all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar, and I can whisper through the chrysalis, but... What hatches, follows its own nature and is beyond me." The fish bites, and Will knows it. 

Gorgeous scene. "She's trying to gauge how comfortable he is with emotion, if he has any.” For Hannibal to understand, he has to feel. His “person suit” has to come off. 

[victorineb]

New instalment of my occasional series, in which Will and Hannibal are cheating scumbags and Alana deserves better. This one contains water guns, Bev Katz, and Hannibal’s entrancing chest hair...

Also on AO3.

***

To be honest, Alana had never expected Jack to go for her suggestion. She’d been pretty certain he was kidding when he asked what she thought he could do to improve team morale now that Will was out of prison and back working with the BAU. So when she’d told him to take them all to the park for a picnic, it had been in the perfectly reasonable belief that he’d take it in the spirit it was intended – one dripping in sarcasm.

She certainly hadn’t expected to be, a week later, attending said picnic with Hannibal on one arm and a huge bowl of potato salad in the other.

“Shall we add our offerings to the feast?” Hannibal asked, nodding at the long, gingham-covered trestle table with what Alana was fairly sure was a note of facetiousness rather less well hidden than usual under his unflappable politeness. He had, of course, not seen the casual setting as a reason to eschew his trademark gastronomic flair, and held in his hand a gigantic woven basket full to the brim with homemade delicacies. Her potato salad looked pretty frumpy by comparison (and Alana knew it was damn good potato salad, actually). She could only imagine how the usual array of barbecue wings and corn salad would fare. She couldn’t even give Hannibal the benefit of the doubt — he’d deliberately set out to win the picnic and she could already feel the smugness radiating off him.

“I wouldn’t want to deprive the crowd of your gourmet glory a moment longer,” she said, resolutely straight-faced. Hannibal didn’t buy it for a second.

“My dear Alana, can you be accusing me of showboating?”

“My dear Hannibal,” she shot back, “can you have the nerve to claim you’re not?”

He smiled at her, the slightly predatory one that made her shiver. “Why Dr Bloom, I believe you see right through me.” He leaned in, close enough to make her wonder if he was about to renege on his usual rule about public displays of affection, but instead simply deposited a kiss on her cheek and relieved her of her bowl, sauntering off to the picnic table with a triumphant swing in his hips.

Alana hung back a little, deliberately, all the better to take in the sight of Hannibal in his version of casual summer-wear. It was a rare event that he deemed unsuitable for his signature three-piece suits but apparently an afternoon in the park counted amongst them. And so Alana was treated to the sight of her usually formal boyfriend clad in the fewest layers she’d seen him in outside of the bedroom. Slim, rust-coloured pants sat on his hips, a much lower cut than Alana would ever have expected but one she couldn’t help but appreciate, given the way they framed the doctor’s enviable ass. Above the waist, a simple, crisp white shirt would have made Hannibal almost unrecognisably understated, were it not for the blazer carefully folded over his arm, a steely blue offset by wide windowpane check in the same colour as his pants. A different silhouette than usual but still the same elegant loudness that could belong only to Hannibal, not to mention the same sharp tailoring, precision cut to show his form to its greatest advantage.

“Hate to see him leave, love to watch him walk away?” Bev nudged Alana in the ribs, having snuck up while she was distracted.

“Can you blame me?”

“Mmm, nope. Best view for miles around.”

Behind them, someone made a noise of disgust. Both women turned to see Will skulking in their shadows.

“Got a problem, Graham?” Bev raised both her arms and Alana realised that she was toting two impressive looking water-guns in a genuinely horrible neon green. She trained them on Will, along with a wicked grin. “Cos my little friends here are just itching to take care of some troublemakers.”

“Do it and die, Katz,” Will growled. Probably in jest, Alana thought, though it could be hard to tell with Will these days.

“Big words for a guy in such a skimpy shirt,” Bev drawled. She had a point; Alana could definitely see the outline of a nipple poking through the thin cotton of Will’s tee. Shame he wasn’t in his boxers too – Alana would have pulled the trigger herself if that had been the case. She was only human, after all.

Will crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Ok, all right, what do I have to do to avoid a soaking?”

Bev considered him for a moment, then flipped one of her guns in the air, grabbed it by the barrel and offered it to Will. “Help me take out Preller and you’ve got immunity.”

Will grinned, the kind of evil expression that explained why he freaked so many people out. “Deal.”

He and Beverly exchanged a handshake, both with a kind of wicked glee all over their faces. Alana was, if she were honest, a little jealous – she used to have that kind of camaraderie with Will. Plus, who said she didn’t like playing with (water) guns?

Then Bev pulled a pistol out of her waistband and offered it to Alana. “You want in, Dr Bloom?”

Alana’s hands itched to take her up on it. Visions of smacking Jack Crawford between the eyes with a well-aimed blast of water swam before her eyes. She was just about to take hold of the gun when a voice called out behind her.

“Alana?”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Hannibal sauntering towards the little group, having divested himself of both food and jacket.

“Sorry Dr Lecter,” Bev chirped, clearly not sorry at all, “I was trying to recruit her to our hunting party.”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled at this, as he glanced around the group, noting the guns in both Beverly and Will’s hands. “Quite the formidable team you’re putting together, Ms Katz. May I ask what kind of quarry you are targeting?”

“Only the most dangerous game.” Will was staring straight at Hannibal as the words left his mouth, a twist to his lips somewhere between a smirk and a grimace.

“Really?” Hannibal asked, delight etched across his face. “Should I be concerned for my safety?”

Will took a step towards him, coming to stand in the space between Bev and Alana, and raised his gun, pointing it directly at Hannibal’s chest. “Scared, Dr Lecter?”

“Will!” Alana smacked him in the arm. “That’s not funny.”

Hannibal waved a placatory hand, clearly amused by Will’s behaviour. “It’s quite all right, Alana; not being a wicked witch, I believe I won’t dissolve from a little water. Besides,” he said, pointedly looking Will up and down, “I’m curious to see what will happen.”

“You smug bastard,” Will snarled, and opened fire.

An impressively forceful jet of water hit Hannibal square in the chest, creating a wet spot that immediately began to grow and spread as Will strode towards him, pumping hard and maintaining a steady stream right up until his tip was pressed directly against Hannibal. Hannibal, who hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t even flinched, just taken everything Will had to give with both arms open. Now he stood, watching Will and being watched back, both men panting at each other as Hannibal dripped onto the ground below, his shirt turned transparent and clinging to his flesh. Will tipped his head to the side and pressed a little harder with his gun, almost as if urging Hannibal to-

“What is your problem, Will?” Alana hissed as she and Bev reached him and wrenched him away from Hannibal. “You had better hope someone has a change of clothes so that he doesn’t have to spend all afternoon soaking wet.”

Once again Hannibal stepped in to defuse her irritation, as if she were still that overeager student he’d taken under his wing. It was just as annoying now as it had been then. “It’s no problem, Alana. I believe there’s an American expression that applies in this particular scenario. What is it…” His eyes seemed to linger a moment too long on Will, who looked like he might start squirting again at a moment’s notice. “Ah yes, ‘sun’s out, guns out,’” he concluded, gleefully. With which, Hannibal began unbuttoning his shirt as a speechless Bev, Will and Alana watched, three sets of eyes following the progress of Hannibal’s deft fingers as they travelled down his placket, revealing flashes of damp skin as they went.

Alana, who was by now very familiar with the sight of Hannibal’s torso in a state of undress, was first to recover and turned to the other two, to gauge their reactions. Bev looked mostly amused, a smirk on her face that suggested she was wondering if she had any ones stashed about her person in order to make it rain something other than water. Will, though. Will wasn’t amused, or embarrassed, or even incredulous. Will was actively staring, his already-wide eyes grown to anime proportions, his posture slightly forward-leaning, as if magnetised by the sight of Hannibal’s flesh. And then, as Hannibal finished unbuttoning and peeled off his shirt to reveal nipples slightly peaked by the cold water, Will made a soft noise that Alana would be hard-pressed to describe as anything other than a whine. He even licked his lips as he did it.

Oh. Oh.

“Will?”

No response.

“Will?” Alana tried again, waving a hand in front of Will’s face. Still nothing.

“WILL!” she yelled, which – aided by Bev delivering a smack to the back of his head – finally did the trick, making Will jump a little and come back to himself.

“What?” he asked, voice slightly strangled, his arms twitching as if to cross over his chest before he thought better of it and let them hang at his sides, fingers drumming on his thighs.

“Were you aware,” Alana began, voice clipped and cold, “that you were staring at my boyfriend’s chest?”

Will’s eyes darted from side to side, an apparent attempt to avoid both Alana’s accusing gaze and the sight of Hannibal’s slick skin. “What? No! I… no I wasn’t. Aware of that. Because I wasn’t doing it. At all.”

Alana raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m stupid, Will?”

“No! Of course not. You’re one of-”

“Or blind? Do you think I’m blind, Will?”

“I… no?”

“Ok, then cut the crap. Are you attracted to my boyfriend’s chest?”

“Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. I just…” Will trailed off and Alana had the impression that he was having to try very hard not to take another look at Hannibal.

“Just what?”

“Just… didn’t realise he was so…” His eyes finally lost the battle and snapped back to Hannibal’s torso. “…hairy.” The last word came out on a squeak, causing Will’s cheeks to get even redder, something Alana wouldn’t have thought physically possible. She’d be worried for his brain being starved of oxygen if she didn’t suspect its blood supply had already been diverted elsewhere anyway.

She turned back to Hannibal, almost involuntarily, already wondering how he would spin this awkward situation into something socially acceptable. Instead, she was confronted by her boyfriend staring at her former-almost-lover with a kind of hungry, yearning expression that suggested the last thing he was feeling was awkward. And was he… Was he really…

“Hannibal Lecter are you flexing right now?!” Alana yelled.

Hannibal’s face went briefly blank before he slid on an expression of patronising indulgence, but Bev headed off whatever excuse he was about to come out with. “Definitely. Sucking in his gut too,” she added, clearly torn between disgust for the vanity of men-kind and glee at confirmation that Will and Dr Lecter were hot for each other after all.

“He does not have a gut!”

Three heads turned, in various states of disbelief (and smugness, in Hannibal’s case), towards Will, who looked entirely shocked at the words that had come out of his mouth. “Well, he doesn’t,” he muttered. “Little bit soft in the middle, maybe, but it suits him-” He slapped a hand over his mouth, as if he could trap any other incriminating statements that might fly out of it.

“Why, thank you, Will,” Hannibal purred. “Coming from you, that is praise indeed.”

“Why coming from him?” Alana demanded sharply.

“Well,” Hannibal said, with infuriating deliberateness, “when one’s admirer is blessed with the proportions of the David, it is reassuring to know that one’s own imperfections are not too off-putting.”

Will’s mouth worked as he stared, apparently stunned, at Hannibal. “I- I’m not…”

“My dear Will,” Hannibal said, gliding towards him and raising a hand to cup his cheek, “you are exquisite in every way, you must know-”

At which point he was forced to break off, spluttering, as Bev pulled Alana behind her and then soaked the romantic moment. “Dude, priorities,” she drawled, once she’d finished spraying.

“What the fuck, Katz?” Will yelled, spinning round and spraying droplets everywhere like a wet dog.

“Graham, it is trashy to make out with a guy in front of his girlfriend, come on bud.”

“We weren’t! I wasn’t going to… we weren’t!”

“Weren’t we?” Hannibal purred into Will’s ear from behind, causing Will’s already-rosy blush to deepen into crimson as his hand snaked around his waist. “I must say, I find myself quite disappointed to hear that.”

Bev hefted her gun upwards and pointed it at Hannibal with a threatening expression. “I thought you were supposed to be some classy gentleman,” she said. “Alana, if you don’t dump his admittedly fine ass right now, I’m gonna waterboard the crap out of him.”

Alana watched the exchange with a strange sense of distance, as she realised one very important fact: she did not want one single, solitary part of whatever dumb fucking shit was going on between Will and Hannibal. She stepped around Bev, putting herself in front of the still-dripping Will and Hannibal.

“Ok,” she declared, “since I’m the only grown-up here, I’m making some decisions. Hannibal, we’re breaking up. If you’re very nice I might allow you to continue being my friend in a few weeks. Will, stop lying to yourself. You don’t hate Hannibal, you’re in love with him and you’re not even subtle about it. And,” she continued, poking him in the chest to drive the point home, “if you dare try to deny it after the display you just gave, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll tell Jack you two have been getting it on behind his back. And in his office.”

Will looked utterly horrified at the prospect and even Hannibal gave a small moue of disquiet.

“You wouldn’t,” Will whispered.

“Watch me.” Alana patted his cheek, just hard enough to sting. “Now, since that’s all sorted, I don’t want to look at you assholes any more. I think I could do with a drink.”

“I can help you out there, Doc, my contribution to the potluck was entirely in the form of grain alcohol.” Bev grinned, clearly having the time of her life watching this romantic drama explode right in front of her.

“I…” Will looked all around himself, as if searching for something that would make sense of what had just happened. Eventually, he gave a tiny shrug that still seemed to express total, incredulous helplessness and looked down at Hannibal’s hand, resting firmly on his stomach. “…don’t understand what just happened.”

“That’s ok,” Alana said, “Hannibal does, and he’s just itching to explain it to you.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal said, coming round to Will’s side and taking his hand, “let us find a quiet spot. I believe we need to talk, darling. Thank you, Alana. Miss Katz,” he added, as Bev singularly failed to stifle a snort of laughter at Will’s open-mouthed reaction to darling.

They watched, as Hannibal led a dazed but unresisting Will away from them by the hand. Alana wondered for a brief moment if she’d done the right thing, if either of them was really safe for the other. Then she shrugged and remembered that she really didn’t give a shit.

“Well, damn, looks like I’m out a partner for Preller hunting,” said Bev, and then gave Alana a sly, sidewise look. “Unless you’re up for a little target practice, Doc?”

Once again, she offered Alana the pistol. Alana eyed it, unimpressed, and crossed her arms. “Either I’m an equal partner, or I’m out.”

Bev grinned and switched the pistol for the full-sized shooter Will had discarded. “Atta girl,” she beamed, as Alana grabbed it, “always wanted to see you in action.” Her grin had twisted into a smirk. It was, Alana had to admit, pretty hot.

“Help me take out a hit on Jack after we crush your nerd boys and maybe I’ll show you just how good I am.”

Bev raised a finger to give a lazy salute, her eyes glittering. “Gladly, ma’am.”

A little while later, as she and Bev were hunting for Price and Zeller, who had run like cowards the first time they’d been tracked down, they found Will and Hannibal again. They’d managed to get Will out of his soaked shirt but apparently no further, since Will currently had Hannibal pinned against his car and was furiously making out with him. His hands were, Alana noticed, buried in Hannibal’s chest hair. Then again, Hannibal’s hands were firmly kneading Will’s ass so it looked like everybody got what they wanted. Including Alana, who got her own chance to spray them like a pair of misbehaving cats, secure in the knowledge that Hannibal would either have to get his precious Bentley wet, or allow his skin to make contact with Will’s dog hair covered upholstery.

“Knew you had a bad side,” Bev cackled as they walked away.

“Only when provoked.”

Bev waggled her eyebrows. “I can be extremely provocative, you know.”

Alana bumped their hips together gently and raised an eyebrow of her own. “Promise?”

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fic #hannigram fic #alana bloom #beverly katz #alana finds out #my fic