"It is twelve forty-six am, I am in Wolftrap, Virginia, and my name is Will Graham."
Will focuses on the words as they leave his mouth, his mind gripping onto the sentence desperately. Losing time is making him anxious and on-edge; after what happened with Georgia Madchen, he can't afford to keep letting it happen. Not only is it interfering with his efficiency in the field, it's making his life outside work confusing and frightening. Just yesterday he was in his living room with the dogs, checking his phone, and it was 8:32 in the morning; one blink later, it was 10:47 am, and he was suddenly driving his car down the road, on the route to Dr. Lecter's house. Why had he been going there? He didn't even have an appointment that day.
Will shakes the thought of the disturbing occurrence from his head and shifts in his blankets. He's going to bed later and later recently, so jittery and wired that falling asleep is becoming more difficult than it already is. Will has already added checking under his bed to his nighttime rituals, given the surprise he got last time.
The dogs have all drifted off in the corner, all except Winston, who sits with his head up and his eyes drooping, but open. Will wonders briefly if Winston is looking out for him, trying to keep him safe from any more intruders, or just giving him the company of not being the only one in the house still awake. Or maybe Winston just can't sleep either. Do dogs get insomnia?
But watching Winston yawn and blink wearily is making Will realize that he really is tired. He catches the dog's yawn, glancing at the now-blurring numbers on his alarm clock….his pillow has never felt so soft….
Will catches a brief glance of an immense, black stag outside his window, and then he is asleep.
Dr. Lecter is in Will's bedroom.
Will is lying in bed, watching him as he gets closer, unable to move. Lecter is in a crisp, well-tailored suit, as he always is. Will cannot imagine him any way else, and he has tried. The idea of Hannibal wearing casual clothing is always bizarre and difficult to picture; Hannibal naked is impossible to compute entirely.
He swaggers as he always does, emanating confidence and poise in every step. He walks straight over to Will's bed, and then he does what Will is least expecting.
He leans down and places a wide hand over Will's cock.
"Doctor Lecter?" Will's voice cracks, and he has to put in effort to even get the words out. They lack structure, yet still convey his surprise and confusion.
Hannibal doesn't answer him, doesn't make a sound. He just looks straight at him, doesn't break eye contact as he starts to move his hand up and down, rubbing Will's length through his underwear. Through the haze of shock he can feel himself hardening.
Lecter crawls onto the bed completely, his knees on either side of Will's hips, suspended over him. His hand is working a steady rhythm on Will's member, which is now completely hard. Will keens up into the touch against his will.
Still over Will, Hannibal leans down, presses his nose to Will's neck, and inhales deeply. He hums his approval, but still says nothing. His hand now moves to slip Will's underwear down slightly. Will's cock springs out from beneath the fabric, and Hannibal grips it firmly, sliding his hand up and down and twisting his wrist with each upward stroke.
Will has given up his confusion; he's also lost all ability to make a sensible noise. He whines and grunts instead, hips bucking up a bit with each of Hannibal's tugs. A bead of pre-come emerges on the tip of Will's cock, and Hannibal slides the slickness over the head with his thumb. His hand now makes a slightly wet sound as it strokes, spreading the fluid evenly over the entire length.
Will's breathing is growing ragged; he can feel himself getting close to completion. Hannibal's unoccupied hand makes its way under Will's shirt, sliding up over his abdomen until it is pinching his nipple lightly between the thumb and forefinger. Will makes another stifled noise, but not of protest; it feels perfect when Hannibal does it, and as he gets closer to orgasm he loses any inhibitions he would normally have about the action.
Just as the pleasure gets to be too much, as Will is barely containing the bucking of his hips, the curling of his toes, Hannibal bites down hard on the junction between Will's neck and his shoulder and fuck if that isn't the most sensitive part of his body. Will loses all control of his bucking hips now, making a hitched, strangled noise in his throat as he comes, his mouth hanging open as he gasps against Hannibal's ear.
He feels himself come down in waves, his head swimming and his muscles slacked. Hannibal licks at the part of Will's neck he bit, and Will realizes that minute droplets of blood have bubbled up from the teeth marks. Lecter moves up off of Will, where Will can see his own cum making a mess of his nice clean suit. As Hannibal begins to walk away, Will closes his eyes for a moment, wanting to say something, anything, only to find that he has already disappeared.
A sharp, beeping sound jerks Will awake. It's morning, 7:30 am, when Will had set his alarm for. Daylight is cracking through the drapes in his room; the dogs are only just waking up, shaking their heads back and forth and yawning as they stretch.
Disoriented, Will looks all around the room, but there is no sign that anyone has been in there except him and the dogs. Of course he'd been dreaming.
Will shifts uncomfortably, and lifts the covers of his bed. He came in his sleep, his seed coating the inside of his underwear.
He gets up, walking with slightly shaking legs to his dresser, where he peels off his soiled boxer briefs and changes into a clean pair. His phone buzzes on his nightstand, and he picks it up. It's Jack, with another case.
There is no time to dwell on dreams, no matter how bizarre, when there is work to be done.