Jack. Alana. Abigail. They don't know it but he's scarred. Beneath those fine suits and polite smile, Hannibal has enough history behind his scars to fill a book. Some are ropy and pink, others thin and hard to see. And some scars aren't on the surface at all. Will's seen them when Hannibal's getting dressed, seen the well hidden ones in the cold stare reserved for things found distasteful.

Will kissed them once, those scars. In the heady afterglow of sex, he ghosted fingertips over pink and faded wounds, some better part of him wishing he could heal them. And Hannibal let him go on for a moment with a quiet hum rumbling in his chest. Then he held Will's hand with fingers intertwined, kissed the crown of his head and said, "Go to sleep."

"Kiss me first."

So, Hannibal pressed his lips to Will's. Wanting just a little more, Will traced his tongue along the doctor's bottom lip and he delved his tongue into Hannibal's mouth, feeling the scrape of teeth and a firm hand grasp his thigh. They could have gone again but Will wasn't asking for sex. He kissed Hannibal trying to taste old memories on the other's tongue and help soothe those wounds. It was a naive thought, and he knew it, but it didn't stop Will from trying.

Bare skin flush together and covered with a thin film of sweat, they were overwhelmed and underwhelmed with each other. There was an unbearable heat building and blood was rushing in their ears. Hannibal was barely hanging on, stopping himself short of biting too hard or gripping too tightly. Will was just trying to remember himself, but kept losing himself in heavy breaths and a talented tongue exploring his mouth. So, he held onto Hannibal, gripping biceps and feeling the muscles shift beneath his palms.

Then Hannibal is kissing him suddenly. It's not rough, just a trail of kisses along his neck with his name whispered in the quiet. Will tries to take the break to recoup but he can't quite slow his mind enough. He wraps a hand around Hannibal's wrist and uses the steady pulse as an anchor. And somehow, between Hannibal humming a light melody and Will tracing a faded scar, the profiler realizes that these reminders of old wounds are irrelevant. Hannibal is as he is because he wanted to be. And with the taste of the doctor on his tongue, Will accepted that.