It's a small but elegant cottage.
There's probably no time for this, any more than there's time to enjoy a fine wine and some meat.
But still, they don't know when Dolarhyde is coming, and if they'll survive.
Will tries not to think of those dead cops so easily brushed aside by Lecter.
Of course they were nothing to him, they were just Dolarhyde's collateral.
He's distributed by the fact, but clearheaded.
He tries not to think of poor, charred Chilton, or his wife and her son, or his dogs.
No, he puts his focus on Lecter alone.
He gets in synch with him.
That way lies madness.
They have a little bit of wine and a light meal, fire burning in the fireplace.
Soon the dragon's wings will swoop down.
Will they burn or not?
Dolarhyde had pity on Reba, but he loved her.
Hannibal loves him. How alike he and the dragon are. Born killers.
Will looks at Hannibal and tries to not to flinch when he moves closer.
"This might be our last night," says Lecter. "Let's use it well."
He knows this has been brewing between them since they first met.
"Will," says Hannibal. "Come here."
He does, looking for the dragon one last time.
He leans in for a first kiss, a light brushing of lips.
Hannibal tastes like some wine with a bitter aftertaste.
They shed their clothes, hands grabbing exposed flesh, hungry for skin, painting trails of desire over unknown territory.
"Will," says Hannibal. "You are beautiful."
He has no answer, but guesses it's true.
Somehow he's on his back, Hannibal pumping into him with all his might.
Would be strange if the dragon came now.
Will spills, not blood but semen on the fine linen sheets. Liquid essence of his passion, and Hannibal leaves a trace inside him too.
"Beloved," says Hannibal and kisses him.
No time for any afterglow, they dress for the fight.
"Are you ready my love?" asks Hannibal.
"Yes," says Will.
There's an odd sound and glass comes flying.
Everything has ended, and now there's a new beginning,
They will survive.
After slaying a dragon, consummating their union in blood.
