*Instead of pulling Hannibal off the cliff, Will passes out in his arms*
He comes to feeling the coldness of the table under his bare back, an aching stiffness in his cheek, the warmth of hands on his shoulder. "Topical anesthesia only. I wouldn't want to dull your senses on this of all nights," says Hannibal, intent on Will's shoulder. He is making neat stitches under Will's collarbone. "You will recover, although your scars will tell quite a story of your becoming in the moonlight."
The music plays a slow counterpoint to the small stabs of pain. "And yours, Dr. Lecter. What of your scars this night? What story will they tell?" "A tale of fingers unsuited for such a task, I fear" says Hannibal stepping back to admire his work. He meets Will's eyes. "I require your hands, Will" he says as he swiftly removes his shirt.
A small indrawn breath, surely from pain, as Will's eyes drop below Hannibal's and then flick away. "Context is important with such a request from one with your … tastes, Doctor." A small and knowing smile in response from Hannibal. "My wounds also require tending, Will."
Will swings his legs slowly off the table and stands up shakily. "A temporary arrangement and I retain their use. I count myself lucky. Another pair of hands would suit you better." Hannibal lightly sits on the table. "It is only your hands that I desire, Will," he says as he reclines.
As Will turns back to Hannibal from threading the needle, he sees his gun in Hannibal's left hand. With a raised eyebrow, Will says "I didn't expect such an impersonal end to a rather intimate evening", indicating the gun. Hannibal examines the gun as Will starts to sew. "We fight against the inevitable, struggle with change. We blot out the possibilities by clutching our outdated reality like a child's trusty blanket to our faces, hiding our eyes."
Hannibal hands the gun to Will as the last stich is knotted and cut. "You've seen your true self now, Will, conquering the night. What will it take, I wonder, for you to surrender and embrace your future?" Hannibal's eyes are intense, the curiosity clear mixed with … what is that, hunger? Will meets them as he handles the gun. "What is between us now, Dr. Lecter, is not cold and metal. This holds no answer for either of us" he says as he puts the gun down on the table.
"Surely now we have returned to the intimacy of first names, Will. Our blood has mingled with the dragon's and we are both forever changed." Will stills next to Hannibal, eyes shining, frowns slightly and shakes his head as he looks away. "Will." Hannibal stands slowly, watching that frown. Slowly he reaches out to clasp Will by both arms. "Will." At his touch, Will stiffens, and then relaxes again as his eyes come up to meet the blazing hunger in Hannibal's eyes. "Hannibal" he says softly.
Hannibal explodes across the room, body crushing Will against the far wall, face inches away. Will feels his shoulder begin to bleed as Hannibal says softly, so softly against his face. "Will."
Hannibal's hands are rough against Will's skin as they trace his arms, lifting them slowly over Will's head to be pinned. "The next time I take you, it will be outside under the moonlight, our bodies writhing on our dying prey." His teeth scrape lightly against Will's neck, nipping at the skin over his jugular.
As Will closes his eyes and tilts his head back, exposing more, Hannibal pauses and breathes in deeply. Will brings his head up to again catch Hannibal's eye and slowly moves down the wall. Eyes locked. Hannibal releases Will's arms as Will moves his hands to Hannibal's belt. Slowly, inexorably, Will releases Hannibal's manhood. Need fills Hannibal's eyes as, gazes still clasped, Will engulfs the whole of him. One stroke, two. Hannibal grasps Will's head firmly as he buries himself completely and stills. One heartbeat, two. Will remains kneeling, consuming, unbreathing, unshaken. With a caress of Will's jaw, Hannibal retrieves himself and steps back from the beauty in supplication before him.
He turns and heads to the bedroom, shedding clothes as he walks to the bed, moonlight shining off his skin. "Are you with me, Will?"
Silently, Will pads out from the doorway, naked, and sits on the bed before Hannibal. Slowly he lies back on the bed and meets Hannibal's gaze. "Are you with me, Will?" he says again. Will brings his hands up over his head, wrists crossed, eyes never leaving that face. Moving forward, knees touching, a small smile twisting his lips. "Are you with me, Will?" he whispers. Will lifts his knees and opens to Hannibal like a flower.
Hannibal rubs himself on Will's entrance, moistening his path. Pushing, gentle but insistent, he enters Will. Mostly in, but not quite, Hannibal speaks again. "In this last thing, Will, you still resist. Is it me you resist, or yourself?" As Will releases completely, Hannibal pushes himself in fully and closes his eyes, a terrible and lovely sight for Will, their bodies forming a tableau of complete surrender and complete possession.
Hannibal moves his hips slightly and a groan emerges from those lips, so frequently twisted in amusement, now open expressing his desire for the man before him. The groan shakes Hannibal out of his inaction, the culmination of his desires for so long. He falls upon Will like one crazed, lips and tongue possessing all of Will, hands grasping for purchase on the milky flesh as he thrusts. Will meets his intensity, hips rocking, touching everywhere, skin grinding against skin, teeth nipping, wounds forgotten in the heat of this union until Hannibal, crying out as if in pain, clasps Wills face between his hands and forces Will to know him completely, see him truly as his desire spasms inside. Seconds pass, minutes, years in that moment.
Hannibal disengages slowly and lays down on the bed as Will curls around him, and his head comes to rest on Will's stomach. Will absently twirls Hannibal's hair as he says "I have changed you, Hannibal. We are neither of us what we were. I am as much your becoming as you are mine." Hannibal smiles in response turning half on his side to meet Will's eyes. Hannibal's eyes darken, although still smiling, he adjusts his position and places his hand possessively on Will's chest. Will flinches slightly, stilling.
Languidly, Hannibal's hand moves across Will's abdomen, his straining erection, his inner thigh. Hannibal dips his head, breaking the gaze, and his lips travel the path of his hand. Softly licking, gently nipping, inhaling the scent of what has taken place. Hannibal pauses at Will's member, catching his gaze again. Slowly, so slowly, Hannibal takes Will into his mouth. Baring his teeth, he bites down hard at the widening of Will's eyes. A low moan escapes from Will, his breathing shallow. When Will again looks to Hannibal, he eases and scrapes his teeth lightly down the rest of the shaft, pausing to bite again, more softly this time, towards the tip. Again Will moans, but does not break eye contact. Low in his throat, Hannibal growls possessively, a Lion claiming his kill, the tip of Will's manhood captured in velvet jaws. Will shudders and explodes.
When finished, Hannibal stalks back up Will's body, placing his head on Will's shoulder, his hand across Will's body, his knee pinioning Will's leg. And then, with a satisfied and peaceful look on his face, Hannibal falls asleep.
Will stares at the man or demon upon him. He can end it here. Gouge out Hannibal's eyes. Strangle the life out of him. Run and regain his lost self. Will's arm moves across his body towards Hannibal's neck. He reaches out a fingertip to trace the lobe of his ear and then up to his forehead to move a lock of hair, normally immaculate but now in disarray, out of his eyes. His finger traces the knife's edge of the cheekbone, across the fullness of the lip. His man or demon, his predator, his. Will tucks Hannibal's head into Will's neck and snuggles in, finally surrendering to him in sleep.