It's not often that Hannibal touches him after- before, he's barely hesitant to- during, it's all he does. But after, they both shrink back farther into themselves than they did the last time, or the time before that, or the time before that. Will likens them to a pair of pendulums, flying at a breakneck pace towards each other, only to collide and go soaring off in the opposite direction. If both weights are attached to the same point, their momentum will decay, becoming weaker and weaker until they can no longer escape each other. Will knows however that he is tied to a point very distant from Hannibal's. When the two of them finally cease to move, they'll be entirely out of reach to one another. So it is in the hours that the two of them collide.
Tonight is one of the rare exceptions. Will opens his eyes when he feels an arm snake around his waist and pulls him back against a body that is somehow almost cool to the touch. He shivers instinctively but allows himself to relax easily into the embrace. Hannibal's forehead rests against his shoulder, and Will can hear the sound of the other man breathing in the smell of sex and sleep that must be clinging to him like the ghosts he's been trying to escape. He finds this comforting.
"How long was I out?" He's surprised at how soft and sleepy his voice sounds. He sounds rested. He feels rested.
"It's four A.M. You've been asleep for three and a half hours." Hannibal's voice is equally soft; however not rested.
"That's the most sleep I've had all week." Will nearly laughs. "Have you slept?" He rolls over to face his (lover? That doesn't sound quite right to him), and the arm around him retreats, leaving them separated by literal inches and figurative miles. He frowns a little.
"No, I haven't; I was preoccupied with watching you sleep. I was worried you might be having more nightmares."
"No nightmares. No dreams at all, actually. I never dream when I'm here; I just sleep, thankfully."
"I'm glad." Hannibal's mouth pulls up at the corners; that perpetually entertained half-smile that Will knows all too well. It would be too dark to see it if not for the dim glow from the streetlight outside that soaks into the curtains. He can hear white noise against the glass that is the sound of early morning rain. Hannibal closes his eyes and Will thinks fleetingly that it might be his turn to stand guards for nightmares. But when he closes his own eyes, he feels a very specific kind of silence rise up in him- the kind of silence that means he's about to speak, even if he knows it might be a bad idea.
"Why do you almost never touch me? After, I mean." He mutters thickly. Hannibal licks his lips slowly, forming an answer, but Will keeps talking. "And when you do, why do you always stop? You jump back like I've burned you. Or like you've just realised what you're doing, and that it's something you shouldn't be doing at all."
"I didn't realise you craved intimacy, Will." Hannibal sounds much too amused.
"I don't. Not really. It's not that I particularly want you to touch me; I just want to know why you don't." Through all of this, his voice barely raises above a whisper. "Even a lot of psychopaths crave physical affection at times; why don't you? Not that you're a psychopath, but it's-"
"This has nothing to do with my desires."
"Oh, I see... you're afraid you'll taint me, aren't you, Doctor Lecter?"
Hannibal smiles again, this time somewhat sadly. He strokes Will's cheek with the tips of his fingers and presses a kiss to his forehead, grinning silently when he hears the breath catch in the younger man's throat.
"My dear Will," He murmurs fondly, the swing of the pendulum restarting again, "I'm afraid I already have."