Never Touch a Predator's Prey

(Part 3)

The rain pattered with bony fingers to the windshield of the car and talked in a monotonous rhythm, while Will silently stared out the window.

The landscape glided like a lazy wave of sea past them. He saw trees, whose leaves were plucked from their crowns from the violence of the storm, leaving bare branches behind. He saw a river that threatened to burst upon its mud coated shore, houses where few ghostly glow burned. He saw the shiny wet gravel of the highway Hannibal chose until he turned into a side street and the approached climes Will recognized without difficulty.

He saw everything, heard everything, felt everything without really perceiving.
To him it would have been indifferent, if the houses had suddenly stood in flames or an earthquake had forced a crack in the bottom crust, devouring a large number of cars parked in its depths. Since Hannibal and he had left the party and sat in the car, they had not spoken a single word to each other. No one began the first step of a conversation, so that the interior of the car was ruled by monotonous silence.

Sometimes Will was trying to whisper a word, to formulate a sentence against the invisible wall that he felt standing between them. But he could not bring himself to it. His courage deserted him as his migraine - completely and with frightening speed. His mouth was very dry, his breath heavy. He trembled almost imperceptibly, but dared not to close to lace of his jacket around his body, because he didn't want under any circumstances that Hannibal noticed his state. The storm had soaked him down to the bare bones and he soon felt pieces of ice clash in his veins. He could almost see the paper umbrellas in a cocktail glass, although this was pure imagination of course.
Reluctantly he threw off a sideway glance to his psychiatrist. Hannibal's eyes were uncompromisingly focused on the road ahead of them. His face had freed from the burden of any emotion. A few strands of gray shimmered like silver lines in his ashblond hair. Not once did he return eye contact. Sometimes it seemed Will he would have even stopped blinking.

He sighed, then turned back to the dreary prospect entering the howling winds and the whipping water vapor. He had not done anything bad, right? Nothing had happenend between Frederick and him, so why should he be ashamed or even put to a pillory.

But the devil is in the details, right? Will thought to himself.

Frederick Chilton's lips suddenly came into his mind, crowded imperiously around his thoughts. They had looked soft. Shimmering in a pallet of pearl colors, but slightly bluish. The question of whether he should them warm up with a kiss ... had he actually wanted do that?
Had he actually desired Frederick Chilton in that moment or he was just blinded by his appearance? The grudging, humorless approach of a smile hooked up in his mouth like a fish bait. His throat was bone dry and it hurt when he swallowed.
He is in the details repeated the quiet, sly, nasty voice in him and he agreed. God, he agreed with her multiple times, because it was the truth. Because he knew the truth. Not from what had really happened, but of what could have happened. What would have happened there under the treacherous cover of darkness and decadence.

That was why Will felt so damn miserable. And it became more unbearable with every meter they approached nearer to Hannibal's house. As if a red-hot horseshoe burned deeper into his chest millimeter by millimeter. Will did not think he would make it finally without to cry or to be otherwise abusive when they were first in the building, surrounded by furniture and objects and books and artifacts screaming the name of their owner, Hannibal Lecter into his pale face.

There was a turmoil which raged within him, the taste of nausea on his tongue and this fear, this fear. He clenched his icy fingers into fists. No, he could not stay with Hannibal. He could not even be with him in a car, in a room, let alone in the same bed. Not tonight.

It may be that he hated himself for it. It may be that he hated Dr. Chilton. But all these were only temporary phenomena, he knew. It did not help, though.

"Let me get out of here." it finally burst out of his mouth like the thunderbolt, which rode the moth black sky a breath later. His hands, pressed to his knees, shone in deathly pale color.

His head felt like dipped under water. He hated this iron front between them, these gratings, which included neither lock nor key. In general, Hannibal's presence. Had he been still yearned after his closeness, it seemed to him now almost to be the contrary. Although he had no doubt that his sudden revulsion had all alone to do with Frederick and his formative words, he did not blame him for his own reaction. And although he regretted his request as soon as he had uttered it, he did not take it back.
The stubbornness prevailed. Stubbornness and the unspeakable feeling of having committed an act of treason. (To whom he has committed treason? Maybe to himself.)

From the corner of his eye he noticed sporadically that Hannibal froze into a pillar of salt for a second, but then turned his head vaguely in his direction and looked at him. Will did not look back. He wasn't able to. He believed that Hannibal's view would shred him.

¨Let you out? Why? ¨

Hannibal's hypnotic baritone was inspired by embracing peace. Will she could not hide the hint of hardness, also reveled in it.
He nervously licked his lips. He was aware that he was playing with fire here. A sleek, beautiful, glowing fire. A fire with bloody flames and the scent of dispersed wine, but at that moment it didn't matter.
The need to rush out into the open and to throw himself in Hannibal's arms at the same time, risking a car accident seemed manic and endless and so tangible that he wanted to scream and be torn into two halves.

Instead, he cleared his throat, suppressed a cough that threatened to climb up his neck.
He felt not good. Did he ever felt better ?

"I'll take a taxi and go home. To my otherhome. Please, please let me." he said, almost pleading and thanked secretly that his voice didn't shiver.

Maybe it broke a bit at the end of his sentence a, but that was fine. That was fine, because it was inevitable, and he knew it.

Again the silence fell like a rotting bride veil hovering over the two men. Will heard nothing except the busily pouring rain drops and his eternal throbbing heart, the chug of his blood-rich veins.
Then a gentle jolt went through him and he shrank instinctively. He turned, craned his neck and looked through the windshield. Two minutes later he realized that Hannibal had brought the car to a stop and actually docked at a bus stop. An imperceptible wave of relief subsided through his whole body. He had feared that Hannibal would make it harder for him.

He was about to open the car door on his side, disappearing without another word, as he paused in the middle of movement. The bolt on which his sweaty fingers slid, was not turnable. He was able to shake it, as he wanted, but nothing stirred.
The car door did not open.
An ugly suspicion germinated in him, as he raised his head a little higher to inspect the edges of the window insistently. Two minutes later, his suspicion was confirmed - Hannibal had turned on the child lock. Will would have most likely hammered his head against a very robust brick wall in this moment, but that was just a pipe dream.
He would have been a fool, if he had deliberately risked a new migraine, where the first was subsided oh so fortunately.

"Will, do you seriously believe I would send you out into the middle of this infernal weather? Do you take me for such a crétin? ¨ he heard it unusual cutting behind him and Will slumped back into his seat like a rubber doll which you pressed the air out of their valve.

How could he truly expect Hannibal would dismiss him from his care without any explanation?
He knew Hannibal Lecter – he had learned to know him amazingly well within just half a year - and it should not have actually surprised him that the psychatrist gave him the chance to escape just to shut down the open gate at the last moment.
That was kind of a little ironic to Will, although there was nothing to laugh and he did not want to laugh either. Chilton had awoken a sadness, a fear in him, he had not known until today that it slept behind his eyes.

Let's say, I would actually consider you to be pet - which is not true. What does Hannibal see in you then?

"Will, be honest, why do you want to leave me in this storm and walk to your old house?"

Will looked at his knees.
It was only when he noticed coral crescents on the sensitive flesh of his palms, when he realized how hard he actually pressed his fingernails into his skin. His hands had already become so numb with cold that he did not perceive pain. It was the inner cold that ruled him. He wished for heat, someone who brought this cold in him to melt and Hannibal's arms always offered an open invitation ... he did not accept it.
You don't deserve it. said the cunning voice now. You deserve none of this .

"I ... I miss my dogs." he replied evasively. "They are afraid of thunder."

A half-truth. His stray pack was never glad when a storm was brewing over them, which was why they, as soon as the first thunderbolt grazed the firmament, occupied Will's bed like an army base. But they did this too, if Will was not present.
They needed his scent to donate them comfort - his body heat, however, was secondary.

Hannibal's brow welled in fine wrinkles. Will did not want to know, refused to look at him from the corner for his eye - but he did it anyway. He could not help it. He loved this face and every expression it painted. He loved it, even when bloodlust retraced the distinctive traits. Sometimes he was ashamed of it. Sometimes he just forgot it.
¨This is not the reason.¨ he heard Hannibal contradict him gently. No reproach. No judgment. Just an easy observation. Will pressed his lips together.

"Yes, it is." he replied miserably and yes, that was a childish response but for God's sake, what else could he say? At that moment his tongue was very difficult and his thinking very slow.

¨No.¨ Hannibal said simply. So simple that Will almost envied him.

The clicking of an opening belt echoed in the car. Then a gentle staccato growl of the seat, when Hannibal leaned back and crossed his legs, gallantly struck hands in his lap verschränkend. Will knew this attitude. It was solely intended and rehearsed for therapy sessions. Usually.
With a slight bout of irony, he thought that even Hannibal tended to habits and that his profession was no charade, but draped on his body. If it had ever served only as a second skin to conceal the true nature of Dr. Lecter, this was inextricably intertwined with the first layer during the years and so it had become a real part of him.

"Has your decision to do with Frederick? Has he done something to you? ¨

Hannibal's words were selected on an objective level, but only the formulation of his second question put Will a millstone in the stomach. A false innuendo, and next time he would see Frederick Chilton definitely in a modified form - for dinner, for example.

"No." he immediately replied, to hastily perhaps, but he was taking no chances. "No, there has nothing happened, absolutely nothing! ¨

In his excitement he met Hannibal face to face and regretted it in the same second. Hannibal's eyes devoured him in their dark swirls and for a fateful moment he forgot how massive the suction was in them.

"I believe you." he said. "But I cannot answer for you to let you shoo on the sidewalk in such conditions. ¨ he nodded to the window on his side, which rolled the next rumble across the sky. "You're shaking like a leaf anyway. I don't want you to get sick.¨

Will shook his head and swore secretly. So, he had noticed it. (Of course, he has noticed it, you moron. EVERYONE would have noticed that!)

"I'm not cold. I'm doing fine.¨

And he clung to this sentence like a shipwrecked sailor on a broken plank on the high seas.

"Will ..." Hannibal sighed. "It's ok to show weakness. You will never need to pretend anything in front of me. I'm here for you.¨

It was serious. Will knew that Hannibal had never played him in this particular case. He dropped his shoulders.

"I know.¨ he said, turning his gaze. "I'm sorry, I ... I'm just confused, that's all. Has to be champagne's aftermath."

It was true that he was confused. That it stemmed because of the sparkling wine, was a plump lie.
Hannibal looked at him expectantly. When it became clear that the profiler would not speak further, he smiled his scrawny ramified smile.

"There is nothing you have to say sorry for.¨ he said imploringly, leaned closer to Will. Hands found their way to the profiler's cheeks, thumbs wandered over weak, heated skin. Will fell involuntarily into this contact. The heat radiating from the other man enveloped his thoughts, lulled him. "But it is me who has to plead for forgiveness ."

"What? ¨ Will asked perplexed.

He had expected many things, but not that.
Hannibal looked at him. Enquiring? Appraising? None of that. Thoughtful, perhaps. Pensive and melancholy somehow ...? Will did not have the necessary time to speculate. Hannibal did not give him time.

"I left you to your own devices.¨ he explained supportively, not a second of it draining. "That was very inconsiderate and rude of me, especially since receptions like this are contrary and you only endured this opera because of me." True regret welled in his eyes. Like a shadow on a cave wall. "Forgive me my carelessness. It will not happen again. I promise you, my dear.¨

He moved a hand to put Will some individual, wet strains of hair from his forehead, arranged them with meticulous diligence behind his ear. Overwhelmed Will closed his eyes while Hannibal's finger ghosted across his forehead and paused abruptly.
Suddenly, the psychiatrist was very near at his side.

These hands have people struck down like cattle, slaughtered, eviscerated and then served as a dinner with wine and brittle. And now… they adjust my tie.

"Hannibal ..." he said softly, as he was in a dream.
This man's presence was of captivating nature. Like so many times before he had to admit he was attracted to it. Despite the cannibalistic aspect he admired and longed for his strength, his resistance, his almost innate sense of perfect control, and yes, even his predatory behavior, the crouched behind the graceful facade of eternal gentleman and ansetzte to jump.

"You have fever, Will.¨ it whispered next to his ear. The rough baritone breathed against the sensitive flesh and made him shiver in its foundations. "I think your dogs can spare you for a night ."

"There are already ten nights in a row.¨ Will muttered, but in reality he already knew that his rebellion would serve no purpose. Hannibal Lecter held him literally in his hands. He would not go. There was no reason to do so. Why should he voluntarily returned to the solitude which he had left in his own house along with his dogs?
Suddenly his own idea appeared to him completely harebrained, even if the discomfort deep in his soul remained steadfast. It stayed and stayed and ...

Hannibal did a dismissive gesture.

"An eleventh will not harm them.¨ he said promptly.

Will shook his head. However, a gentle tremor had captured his limbs. He felt weak, disillusioned, cooled and completely emaciated.
Like a drug addict in rehab, he thought to himself, and if he would have been capable of doing, he had chuckled probably.

"Hannibal, I really can't ... ¨ he began, but was rudely interrupted by Hannibal, which was not his style otherwise.

"Will, do you want to punish me? ¨ he asked with a hard undertone and Will winced as he had just revealed to him, he would remove his cecum.

"P-Punishment? For what? " he stammered. His cheeks were burning hot, not originated by fever this time. The psychiatrist sighed.

"For my ignorant behaviour.¨

"This is no punishment.¨

"It is for me." Hannibal replied and he sounded honestly hurt. "The thought of not knowing you by my side tonight sickens me. What if something happens to you? You're not in the constitution to be alone and dog paws can't call the emergency.¨

Will wanted something to say to that, but he was brought to silence by Hannibal's mouth quickly.
It was a rabid kiss that had a hungry, devouring note. Soon the exquisite bouqet of red wine and various Horsd'œuvre flooded Will's tongue, mixed with the resinous, voluptuous scent that Hannibal encountered and a splash of a noble aftershave. A noise, levitating to a short, gracious moment unmolested Will's senses in higher hemispheres and unparalleled sought.

When they broke after a random amount of time from each other, their breath steamed in the air. The windows were painted with a thin layer of fog. Arising Hannibal leaned Will back in the depths of his seat. His head swam and he gasped for oxygen.

Hannibal looked at him immensely loving. At the same time a triumphant nuance flashed in his dark iris.

"You stay with me, no argument." he breathed against the slightly swollen lips.

Will nodded nervously. He looked doubly.

Hello^^

I hope you liked the Hannigram. Any comments? I'd really appreciate them :3