Hours after killing Randall Tier, Will still felt the high of the thrill he had gleaned from imagining his latest victim was Hannibal Lecter. His body ached and thrummed with the drawn-out tension of the evening. First, he had ended another savage murderer's life; then, he had pulled the wool over the wolf's eyes without tipping him off. The duo of successful events was enough to set his teeth on edge. A reckless curiosity raged inside him. How would it feel to draw nearer still; and insinuate himself deeper inside the belly of the beast?

As he gazed at Randall Tier's horrifically beautiful murder tableau (this is my design), Will felt feverish heat radiating off the fiend standing behind him.

"I'm quite proud of you." Hannibal declared. His aberrant joy touched a nerve close to the surface of Will's composure. "You're finally allowing your inner visions to manifest in the outside world."

"I'm merely following my nature, Doctor," Will retorted over his shoulder, "just as you have always advised me to do."

"Try to omit your usual forced indignance from the current scenario. We should celebrate your victory - not bemoan it."

Will grimaced. "What sort of festivities did you have in mind?"

A deep, audible inhale reverberated inside the small space they shared. Hannibal was scenting him again. Will wrinkled his own nose, and wondered what Hannibal smelled on him beneath the blood and gore that clung to him like cologne.

"I can ease the tension in your body if you grant me access to the source."

Hannibal's touch on his shoulder was light; yet made heavy by the innuendo in his suggestion. "Will you permit me to reward you for your accomplishment?"

Will clearly understood what his companion desired: intimacy. His pulse skipped a beat, despite the fact that he had been expecting (anticipating) this kind of proposition ever since he had almost pulled the trigger on Clark Ingram. Hannibal Lecter's obsession with him was boundless; lacking borders to delineate where discretion became mandatory.

Weeks ago, Will had told himself there were no limits to achieving his ultimate goal of putting The Chesapeake Ripper behind bars. When presented with opportunity to further embed Hannibal's growing belief in him, however, he was a bundle of frayed nerves and unquenched irritation.

He drew in a labored breath; knowing the shrewd surgeon would not miss that telling detail.

"Hannibal," Will warned, "you're intruding."

"Forgive me," Dr. Lecter responded with mock civility. His hand snaked around Will's front. "I was under the impression that you wouldn't mind sharing a moment of mutual appreciation."

Deliberately teasing, his hand hovered over Will's crotch; then lightly brushed the bulge beneath it. "May I indulge you?"

Will's cock swelled. Without thinking, he let his eyes fall shut, and arched into Hannibal's expert touch. A blood-hot burst of arousal spread from the deepest part of him to the most superficial. He heard his own sharp gasp as if from outside himself.

"Lovely." Hannibal applied more force, using the flattest part of his palm to manipulate Will's growing erection. "Let me hear your music again."

The shameful pleasure Will felt in response to his enemy's erotic words and titillating touch was too searing – too nightmarish in its stark reality. Alarmed, he opened his eyes. Randall Tier's mutilated corpse watched him with a knowing smirk. Is this part of your design?

Will's impulsive carnality started to retreat. "I can't do this. You can't either," he replied through gritted teeth. Still, he didn't move away: the remorseless creature inside him wanted Hannibal to continue; longed to revel in the debauchery they had conjured together.

He sucked in a too-tight breath of death-drenched air when Hannibal lightly squeezed his arousal; tormenting him with silent implicit glee.

"What we can or cannot do is all a matter of perspective. Will you purposefully narrow yours, just to avoid the implications of unquenchable bloodlust?"

Before he could lose himself to the torpor of pleasure, Will grabbed Hannibal's wrist to still his motions.

"Please don't continue," he said, in a broken whisper that didn't sound like it belonged to him. Heartbeat stuttering, he watched the other man's hand withdraw. Relief and disappointment were one and the same.

Hannibal's disapproval seeped into his usually mild tone. "You would deny your honest desire for achieving a higher state of bliss?"

"I will deny you the pleasure of collecting another head to add to your growing collection of human trophies. "

Still behind him, Hannibal traced his cheek with the flat part of his nails. "If you could see all the way to the root of me, what would you find? A fearful enemy? A conscienceless killer?"

Will shuddered. "You're a monster, but..." He faced his nemesis, not bothering to hide the moroseness he felt. "I understand you."

Hannibal's mouth tightened. "There are yet tracings of loathing in you."

"I can't help but to feel conflicted. You killed Abigail."

"And for that, you hate me."

"I wish I could only hate you."

The Chesapeake Ripper's eyes absorbed all the light in the room, and reflected nothing but darkness in return. "Is hate so close to love?"

"For men like us, perhaps."

Lips drawn into a sneer, Hannibal leaned in, presumably to kiss him.

"Don't," Will warned. With his newly bandaged hand, he covered the other man's mouth; then dropped his hand when he felt the glancing of moist lips along the fleshy part of his palm.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. "Your body makes a liar of your tongue."

Will's fingers traced the buttons of his shirt. "We can't cross this line."

Hannibal gripped his forearm; stilling his progress. "Why not?"

Will searched his mind for the right words. "There has to be some part of me that's separate from you."

Hannibal cringed. "When two individuals are as alike as we are, an obfuscation of separation becomes the logical outcome."

"You've interfered enough with my boundaries." Will withdrew his appendage from Hannibal's clutches. "Your transgressions are numerous and largely unforgivable."

"Everything I've done has been for your own good."

"Was killing Abigail 'for my own good'?"

Hannibal didn't answer him. Bending down, he pressed his forehead against Will's. "As hard it as it may for you to believe, my actions were born from…emotional attachment."

"What?" Will barely breathed, avoiding eye contact. The possessive tenderness in Hannibal's display of affection rattled his nerves.

"I've never met anyone else like you. I never imagined these feelings of love and friendship would overtake my better judgment." Hannibal allowed his eyes to flicker shut, acutely aware of his own aesthetic appeal. "It's exhilarating."

Will's felt his facade start to shatter. He took a step back and faintly shivered; lacking Hannibal's heat to stave off the museum's mausoleum-like chill.

"You can't just use words to seduce me. I won't be subject to your machinations any—"

"I can use any words I choose to express the depth of my feeling," Hannibal interrupted. He squared his shoulders took a predatory step forward.

"What you feel isn't friendship. It's not love. It's possessiveness," Will argued. He raked his fingers through his tangled hair. "You covet me — my unique gift. I'm a jigsaw puzzle you've been itching to solve. A novelty of epic proportions, the empathy can look unflinchingly into the abyss of humanity's absence."

Hannibal placed his hand in his pocket and fixed his gaze, drawing Will inside his mind with little more than the suggestion of secrets better left untold.

"At certain times when you apply yourself to my perspective, the words that leave your mouth are stunningly accurate. In other circumstances, your psychoanalysis is abysmally amateur."

"Meaning?"

"It is not your place to define my emotions."

"If you cared for my emotions, you would never have taken Abigail away."

Will's voice was hoarse; thick with emotional weakness he had tried in vain to suppress. "If you respected me, you would have never stolen my freedom by framing me for murder. You would have stopped my encephalitis from spreading. But you watched me fall apart. You enjoyed it."

Confirmation of his assessment flickered in Hannibal's eyes.

"You destroyed Jack's trust in me. You turned Alana against me," Will continued, feeling his enragement grow. "Then you lured her into your den of iniquity."

"Have you never pondered the thought the perhaps you needed to fall apart? Perhaps your dismantling was ultimately your salvation."

Hannibal steepled his artist's hands together, and elegantly invaded Will's personal space. "I have always seen greatness in you, Will. Don't hide it - you're so close to becoming the truest version of yourself."

"The true version of me is not the one you imagine me to be."

"Are you quite certain of that? Remember how you felt when you were beating Randall Tier to death," Hannibal reminded him.

"I was beating you to death. I felt so..." Will couldn't voice the rest of his thought - it was too personal.

"Powerful?" Hannibal suggested; applying light pressure to Will's belt buckle.

Will's hand came down hard on top of his. "This can't happen here."

Hannibal leaned forward. "Then where?"

"Nowhere. It can't happen at all." Reflexively, Will flinched. His own words sounded like badly-composed lies.

Hannibal closed his eyes, and Brailled the length of Will's back. At first, Will did nothing, but kept still, allowing the touch; neither encouraging nor responding to it. His heart thrashed inside his chest, but he kept his voice neutral.

"Should I expect you to kiss me, Dr. Lecter?" he intoned without emotion.

"You have already expressed sufficient discomfort over that possibility."

Unseen, Will smiled without his eyes.

Hannibal held him at arm's length. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Shaking his head, Will retorted, "Not this time."

Hannibal couldn't seem to speak. Instead, he gave a curt nod; appearing to be genuinely dismayed by the rebuff, but grudgingly accepting of it.

"Randall Tier's new physique will doubtless make a lasting impression," Will mused. "Jack Crawford will need my insight on this case. He'll ask for your opinion, too."

Hannibal stared at the mutilated corpse. "A likely possibility."

"I'll see you again when the crime scene becomes official," Will smirked. "Goodnight, Doctor."

His footsteps were quick and heavy as he walked away: they effectively masked the pounding of his still-erratic pulse. Will was dismayed to find that his erection was ever present, but that was a problem he could quickly solve on his own - without memorizing the moans he made when he pleasured himself; as Hannibal Lecter would doubtless do, were he the one to administer the panacea.