Although Will's arms were tightly wrapped around him and one hand still buried in Hannibal's hair he had turned his head away and his eyes were tightly closed, forehead creased with a mixture of shame and uncertainty as if expecting the older man to pull away in regret. Or disgust. Neither could have been further from the truth, and whilst the situation almost sang to his manipulative urges it wasn't a song that he had any desire to harmonise with.
Still catching his breath, Hannibal considered his options.
If he wanted the night's events to reoccur, which he unquestionably did, then he needed to play the situation appropriately otherwise Will would run from him, and Hannibal strongly suspected that if Will ran now, on the back of what had just occurred he would never willingly return. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth that he put down to the effort that would be wasted if he were unsuccessful, the months of careful grooming and manipulating squandered in the space of half an hour, even if the night's activities had not been part of his plan. Distanced from Hannibal, Will would be more open, more able to see his true nature - should he fail to reassure him, things could take a rather unsavoury turn in the not too distant future and that thought sat like a lead weight in his stomach…keeping that in mind, and knowing that not only would Will be fully aware of his gaze on him but that it was most likely only heightening his distress, Hannibal opted for the course of action that called to him the loudest.
"Will,"
Garnering no response other than Will's body going tense beneath him, Hannibal braced himself on his left arm and took the other man's stubbled jaw lightly in his right hand, turning his face towards his own. Almost nose to nose, he could feel Will's breath coming faster against his face, smell the panic beginning to take root.
"Will," he offered again, making his tone as warm and soft as he could. It didn't take much effort.
Just when Hannibal thought he wouldn't, after a long moment Will opened his eyes and stared into his own maroon depths. Whilst the fear found in his gaze told Hannibal he'd had to force himself to do it, he had done it all the same, the odd fluttering in his chest from earlier making an appearance, strangely pleasant and distracting. Holding his gaze, Hannibal slowly pressed his lips to Will's and let the contact linger, noses brushing: the surprise and relief that flooded through the younger man was endearing as blue eyes went wide momentarily and his breath left him in a rush, tension ebbing from his body in the process. A moment more and he returned the kiss, lips gently moving against Hannibal's and his fingers hesitantly combing through the other man's hair.
Hannibal said nothing as he slowed the kiss and withdrew out of Will, gently disentangling himself from their embrace with a small smile that he found he didn't have to fake and gracefully slipping from the bed to pad towards the en suite, aware of Will's eyes on him all the way. He returned with a warm washcloth a minute or two later and carefully wiped the younger man down, starting with his neck and chest that still glistened with sweat before moving lower to clean away the evidence of their pleasure. A shower would have been preferable, but glancing at Will from underneath his fringe as he worked told him that would have to wait until the morning; the other man was fighting a losing battle with sleep even as his gaze bore into the top of Hannibal's bent head as he continued his ministrations. The cloth returned to the bathroom, Hannibal retrieved his pyjamas from where they'd unceremoniously landed beside the bed and slipped into the pants but forwent the still damp shirt. Will was just settling himself on to his side on the driest area of sheets he could find when a bare-chested Hannibal extended a hand towards him, not letting the annoyance that Will thought so little of himself, not to mention his own manners, show on his face.
"Come,"
It was an order disguised as a request, a technique of which Hannibal was an expert and had been using for years in both of his guises to great effect. A more subtle, abstract approach was generally more beneficial with Will, caused in no small part by the fact that he had spent much of his life being analysed and told what to do; when coupled with his empathy, it was a ready recipe for distrust and anger. Hannibal hadn't been given access to Will's file when Jack had asked for his input, had been offered nothing but the most basic details, and he imagined Will would be greatly angered to know the layers of information the Bureau held on him. The supposed background information that had been gleaned through 'unofficial channels' as part of the screening process was little more than bawdy rumour and conjecture, something Hannibal had discovered by chance whilst waiting alone in Jack's office one afternoon, and he had deliberately bypassed the most recent information - reading between the lines had given him some unexpected insights into the younger man's formative years. Had his father cared enough to intervene, Will would have ended up in therapy long before he eventually at his own behest had in his teens, unmitigated disaster though that had turned out to be. All things considered, it was a wonder that Will hadn't ended up completely dysfunctional, empathy or no. And a testament to his considerable inner strength. Therefore, there was a certain sense of achievement when Will slipped from the bed with only a slight hesitation, but there was also a vague sense of disappointment and Hannibal hoped that Will wasn't going to make things too easy for him in the wake of their new experience.
Manners on their own would have dictated that Hannibal lead him to one of the other immaculately prepared guest suites, it was something infinitely more personal although not thoroughly understood that prompted Lecter to wordlessly lead him the short distance down the hall to stop outside the master bedroom. Pushing open the door, he reached for one of the dimmer switches on the wall and brought the wall lights up to half strength, the soft lighting banishing the darkest of the shadows in the room. Will remained frozen in the doorway as Hannibal crossed to a mahogany chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black, cotton pants with ties at the waist.
Stood on the threshold of the other man's room and clad in just his damp shorts, Will wrapped his arms around himself in a near desperate embrace and wondered not for the first time whether this was all just a hallucination. There was fear attached to the thought, fear that the connection he'd experienced with Hannibal was all just a figment of his fragmenting mind and he'd come to cold and alone in Wolf Trap. But the fear that this was real clawed at him equally as Hannibal slowly padded back towards him, apparently as in tune with his fears as ever if the carefully neutral expression on his face was anything to go by. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Will took three paces forward to meet the other man's approach.
"Is this real?"
Hannibal inclined his head at the question, carefully moved past Will to push the door closed before returning to stand in front of him, close enough to touch him although he refrained from doing so for a moment.
"Yes,"
"Oh," was all Will offered, but his lips turned up just very slightly and a light shined in his blue eyes. Hannibal mirrored his expression, let some of the warmth he felt for the other man show and slowly reached up to lay a hand upon his shoulder, squeezing gently. He felt rather than heard Will's exhale at the contact, the younger man tilting his head towards his own shoulder until his cheek was pressed against the back of Hannibal's hand. The older man reassessed the notion of the light in his eyes being purely emotion as he noted that Will felt feverish, probably the reason why he was doubting something that he hadn't at the time. The fevered sweetness that underpinned Will's scent was so ingrained in his nose now that unless he wanted to discern it, it mostly went unnoticed.
"You need to sleep, Will," Hannibal intoned softly.
Will glanced towards the large bed that dominated the room, the light in his eyes not caused by fever rapidly dying and his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he apparently considered the prospect of sharing Hannibal's bed.
"As do I," he added, using guilt to manipulate the younger man. Will would cave anyway, but he was not averse to hastening the process along. "I thought you might appreciate these,"
Hannibal handed Will the pants, turned the hand trapped beneath his cheek to lightly stroke his face before withdrawing and crossing towards his walk-in closet. Once there he pulled two dark towels from a shelf just inside the door then moved to the bed, pulling back the covers and placing them over one half of the mattress and one pillow in the same way that he'd noted Will did at home. Much though the prospect of Will sharing his bed was unfathomably enticing and sheets could easily be washed, the towels would alleviate the worst of Will's sweating and hopefully make him feel more comfortable about the situation. It was a calculated move and as expected, gratitude coloured the younger man's expression when Hannibal turned towards him. Eyes roaming over Will, the psychiatrist allowed himself to swallow as he noted the way that the black cotton sleep wear he had given the younger man hung low on his hips even with the ties, and fleetingly wondered about his own recovery time. Given the way he normally controlled his physical responses and expressions with ease, Hannibal was a touch surprised that he had to consciously resist the reflex to clear his throat. Stepping back from the bed, he gestured towards it with an open palm and waited.
Will shifted uneasily and glanced away towards the dark world outside the window for a long moment as he contemplated the request, but Hannibal didn't have a single doubt about him complying and patience was something the he had in abundance. He was aware, however, that Will was so far out of his established comfort zones he would have to be careful not to push him too far; this web he had begun to weave was far more fragile than the one he'd previously envisaged, but also far more beautiful.
Eventually Will came to his conclusion, preordained though it was, slowly raising his gaze to Hannibal's as he made his way to the side of the bed and climbed in, a small contented noise escaping him as he settled into the mattress on his side, one hand resting by his head on the pillow and the other tucked near his chin. Hannibal pulled the covers up to his chest, letting his fingers lightly graze his skin as he did to leave shivers and goose-bumps in his wake even as Will let his eyes fall closed.
It took Hannibal less than a minute to turn off the lights and slip into bed beside him, keeping plenty of distance between himself and Will's back. In the light of the moon coming through the windows, he could make out the tense line of the other man's shoulder, heard the slightly hurried sound of his breathing. It was obvious Will was scared, but there was something else in the way that he held himself.
Since moving to the US, on the occasions Hannibal had opted for another's company he had never taken anyone into his bed, choosing instead to make the drive to DC and the upmarket hotels there rather than risk complications locally. Taking a seat at the bar, more often than not they came to him, drawn by his appearance and demeanour and the subtle signs he knew to give out to show that he was looking for a companion for the night. That wasn't to say he wasn't discerning in the partners he chose, but the propositions were usually plentiful and he always got what he went for – a willing, face down body that he could use to nullify the need for more than masturbation. Buying them drinks, he never divulged more than his first name, effortlessly steering conversation around his victims instead until he sensed that they would be receptive to continuing things in more comfortable surroundings. He used kisses sparingly and only for the purpose of exerting control, to shape the encounter into what he wanted, the men in his grasp too focused on their own desire to realise they were being played. Once or twice they had found their way to his plate when he had found them to be exceptionally rude once upstairs, but generally the encounters had nothing to do with his other proclivities, these men victims of another sort. Once spent he would perfunctorily complete the transaction but never with anything other than his hands, before quickly making his excuses of an early flight out of Dulles to return to Europe and leaving them still somewhat dazed. The pattern had never deviated, never altered and never satisfied the tiny, quiet yearning for something more that Hannibal viciously squashed whenever he became aware of it.
Lying beside Will, listening to him try and control his breathing, the yearning braved a glimpse over its parapets and not for the first time in recent weeks Hannibal allowed it without retaliating, letting it settle in the pit of his stomach. It was a foreign, uncomfortable sensation but as he lay there it gave him clarity, at least about what Will needed even though it raised more questions about himself.
"Breathe, Will," Hannibal murmured as Will's chest stilled when he carefully tugged the other man back against him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his palm against his chest. For a long second there was silence but then Will obeyed, a shuddering breath giving way to him pressing back against Hannibal, almost burrowing into his warmth as he sought the comfort and contact he'd been craving for years. Pressing a feather-light kiss to the nape of the younger man's neck, Hannibal closed his eyes and inhaled his scent deeply before letting his mind drift, the weight and warmth of the body moulded to his a new but definitely not unpleasant experience.
No, this had not been his design. But as Will drifted off to sleep in his arms, Hannibal was acutely aware that it did not mean it wasn't one he could appreciate.
~ Fin