Will Graham awoke drenched in sweat and gasping. It looked to be maybe 2 AM outside given the darkness from outside, and not to mention, it was storming outside. Will sat up, looking to his right; Hannibal Lecter was in the bed beside his, still fast asleep. A shadow passing by the window made Will snap his head around to look.
It was the stag.
It was the stag, and it was whispering to him as it caused antlers to seep through the walls.
He had to follow it. It wasn't going to get away this time.
Though dead tired, Will got up. He clumsily yanked on a pair of socks, threw on his jeans without really doing them up properly, slipped on his shoes, and put on his desaturated army green-ish coat over his sweat-soaked grey t-shirt.
His hair plastered to his forehead by sweat, his eyes wandering, and his thoughts all but alert, Will left the hotel room.
The next thing he knew, someone was calling his name. He could feel that he was drenched and cold, and he could tell that he was at some sort of... bus-stop, or something of the like... but he was just so goddamned tired, and...
"... Hanni... Hannibal...?" He mumbled quietly enough for his voice to be drowned out by the rain. He couldn't see the face of the person that was saying his name.
The passenger side door of the black van in front of him opened, and out came a hand reaching out and beckoning for his to hold.
"Get in," The faceless voice said.
Under normal circumstances, Will would never have accepted such a request. However, at that particular moment, Will was only half conscious, was freezing from the onslaught of rain, and was almost about 75% sure that the person in front of him was Hannibal Lecter.
Limply, wetly, Will fit his hand into the outstretched palm in front of him, and wondered in some corner of his mind if Hannibal's hands had always been so huge.
Francis Dolarhyde, aka "D.", drove back to his home. He continually glanced over at his passenger, who, shortly after getting into the van, had dozed off.
Francis wasn't sure why the voice of The Great Red Dragon knew that Will would be at that bus-stop at such an ungodly hour, but he know that it wasn't a good sign. The Great Red Dragon would never give him such a tip with good intentions in mind.
Quickly arriving at his home, Dolarhyde parked his car and carried Will inside, where he then laid his "guest" down on the sofa. Standing over him in that moment, D. found himself particularly entranced by his abdomen; his shirt had ridden up and his pants were on the verge of coming off. Besides the vaguely erotic sight of Will's exposed flesh, there was a large scar on his stomach...
... Not that Francis really cared about that.
The ideas going through his head scaring him a tad, Francis walked past Will and sat on the couch beside his head and tried to get the sick thoughts out of his own head.
However, he just had to look again.
From this angle, with Will laying on his back, it almost appeared as if there was a crevice between Will's skin and his pants. This crevice was barely filled whenever Will breathed in, but either way, Francis was too curious.
He had to reach into the crevice... or at least, so the voice had made it seem.
Hesitantly, he reached his right hand out over Will's head and let it glide over Will's stomach. The lack of an immediate reaction to this gave him the confidence to trek further, and soon the tips of his fingers had slid underneath Will's pants.
The further Dolarhyde's fingers went into Will's pants, the more ragged and loud Will's sleeping breaths became, but he only stopped when, as he briefly felt something different, Will's hands abruptly shot up and tangled themselves in his sleeves.
"H-H-Hh..." Will panted, still asleep even though his lips quivered so, "H-Hannibal... stop...!"
Watching the younger man's pink lips tremble unconsciously to form words, and feeling pretty damned horny now that he'd had a taste of the exhilarating sounds that Will could make, Francis found himself picturing Will's eyes open, staring up at him and revealing all. This image in mind, he leaned over and recklessly kissed his guest with fervor.
"No," Will tried to protest, but he was beginning to fall back into a more unconscious state, so that didn't help make the word anymore coherent against Dolarhyde's lips and instead only granted the man's tongue access to deeper recesses of his mouth.
Feverishly, D. relocated his sloppy kisses to all over Will's face and neck as he repositioned himself, now able to wrap his powerful arms tightly around Will, to embrace him. His hand found its way back to Will's pants again without his control as the arguably more petite man underneath him subconsciously dug his fingers into the back of his shirt.
Francis wanted to stop, he really did, but The Dragon had taken over and was worked into a frenzy, and not waking Will was fast becoming less and less of a priority.
Thunder clapped outside as the storm raged on, soon to drown out screams of panic, pain, and pleasure, the former two of which were to be emitted by Will Graham alone.