Work Text:
SALT AND PETRICHOR
Hannibal's fingers were so cold against his cheek. Will was slumped against a wall, eyes glazed over, not entirely registering the events of the past few hours. He remembered his heart hammering against his chest, more frantic than he had ever felt as he pulled them both over the precipitous edge of the cliff. Was it the right thing to do? His thoughts were a whisper, as immaterial as smoke, and he found he couldn't believe the jumbled rationale that came back to him.
Blood. The smell of copper and salt and petrichor. The glint of hot metal slick with blood, trembling in his hand. Why was he trembling again? He furrowed his brow, staring at nothing, trying to recall. Not fear. Rage? No, that was Hannibal. The expression on his face was unlike anything Will had ever seen. Then, and now...
Hannibal's face came into focus, inches from his own. The first thing Will noticed was an unusual level of concern. His mouth stretched thin, his eyes franticly flicked from one bloody spot to another oozing from his body. It seemed like Hannibal was coming a little unraveled and was making no effort to hide it.
Will groaned and straightened his back against the wall. He felt the sharp stab of pain in his shoulder and he winced, which caused another ache as the wound in his cheek protested the expression. They were both still soaking wet but Will had no idea how much time had passed since they hit the water, and he had no clue where they were. All he could think about at the moment was how cold he was, how heavy and uncomfortable his clothes were as they clung to all the wrong places. His throat burned from the coughing and the salt, and a punishing bruise led him to believe that Hannibal had pulled him from the water by the back of his shirt.
The room was dark but he could tell it was the middle of the day, heavy blinds let in scattered beams of light. He could make out a bed roughly across from him, a desk and a pile of clothes thrown in a heap. Hannibal knelt next to him and the second Will straightened his back he quickly tried to compose himself and control the emotions that played across his features. A moment passed as Will searched for clarity and tried to wrestle his thoughts back into a form that made any kind of sense.
Hannibal stared at him for a long second before slowly leaning back in and carefully touching his fingers to Will's cheek. Again he was struck by how cold they were against his burning skin, and as Hannibal brushed a thumb across he noticed the stitches. This wasn't a confident, clinical touch. Hannibal was clearly uncertain about something. His movements were jerky as though vital parts of him were paralyzed, his breathing at uneven intervals. Will noticed and pretended not to.
He took a deep breath and tested his voice. "Hannibal... where are we?" To say it was raspy was an understatement. Hannibal removed his hand and smiled through his eyes. They were tired. "A hotel" was his only response before he sighed heavily and slumped against the wall next to Will. They sat side-by-side for a minute, dripping on one another. Will considered everything and decided that leaning his head against the shoulder next to him would be alright, they were both hurt and exhausted. A flash of the eroding bluffs burned behind his eyelids for just a second, and then it was gone. He was also still incredibly uncomfortable. All he really felt like doing was curling up in bed and never thinking again, because he knew that thinking involved accepting this dark thing that had taken root in his veins. It was there because instead of scouring any trace of empathy for Hannibal from the depths of his mind, he let it stew. He didn't know how to stop caring. Every time he had tried to in the past, he completely lost his sense of self. Those three years he felt like an empty shell, attempting to fill himself up with meaning and emotional significance but it was like trying to fill a cup with a hole at the bottom. Molly loved him in this state but he was so tired of the draining. He wanted to feel whole again.
In those three years, time and time again he would find himself in vague black cathedrals, with Bach's Goldberg Variations echoing in the vast hallways that separated one room from another in his memory palace. He would hear the music echo and look for the source, and every time he would get lost along the way. Never finding it, nor finding his way out. Just darkness, a taste of familiar music, the faint smell of his kitchen, satin-lined walls and a deep ache in his chest. Sometimes the ache was from missing the only man he had felt ever understood him. Sometimes it was from a lack of stimulation, feeling smothered by the life he had chosen. It wasn't enough.
In a voice that was nearly a whisper, he asked "Could you please help me get these clothes off?" Will could tell that Hannibal forgot to breathe for a fraction of a second. "Of course" he murmured, "I was waiting for you to regain consciousness." Relief played across his features.
He stood a bit shakily and extended a hand to Will, carefully sitting him down on the bed. He knelt down by his feet with a pained grunt and slowly untied and unlaced Will's shoes. One hand slid up to support his calf as he removed them and pulled off his wet socks. There was sand between his toes. Will didn't even remember walking on the beach. Hands that were only slightly warmer than his feet wrapped around them, gently squeezing. Will thought he was trying to help with blood circulation but the movement was too brief to be of any help. He shivered and began to unbutton his shirt from the top with clumsy fingers, Hannibal watched him and considered, then reached toward him and started from the bottom.
Their fingers met in the middle and lingered on Will's chest. Will covered Hannibal's hands with his own. Neither of them said a word. Will heard the sounds of waves crashing and wondered if they were that close to the sea or if it was all in his head. He was still confused. Hannibal gently slid his palms up his chest and to his shoulders, looping thumbs under the bloodstained collar and pulling the shirt down. He was careful removing the shirt from his shoulder, doing it slowly. Eyes flicked once more up and down Will's body before he settled next to him on the bed. He noticed a slight, hidden, intake of breath before Hannibal reached for his belt. Buckle undone, fingers slipping under his waistband, Will flushed and felt himself stir. That pounding in his chest began again.
Hannibal slowly exposed him, thumbs grazing his thighs as the pants came off. Will felt Hannibal was trying a little too hard not to look, his predatory nature clearly in conflict with his desire to be polite. He also felt this was a very good thing because there was no hiding his arousal. He fought back embarrassment and glanced over at the pile of clothes. He should. But did he really need to?
It was quiet in the room aside from the two of them breathing, the distant waves and a slight ringing in his ears. Hannibal was still standing in front of him, smiling in a sheepish way that Will didn't even know he was capable of. "I need to fix that shoulder of yours" he breathed, and began to turn away. Without hesitation Will caught him by the sleeve. Hannibal stopped. A sudden surge of emotion hit Will that he didn't know how to describe. Equal parts love, shame, need, loss, fear and self-hatred. The only way he knew how to deal with it was to pull Hannibal back to him, as close as he could, and hold him still. The longer he held him the calmer he became. Hannibal gently tangled his fingers in Will's hair and just let him feel for a moment.
Face buried in his chest, Will heard Goldberg's Aria again. He felt the music thrumming through Hannibal with every beat of his heart. Fingers caressed his salt-covered skin. Will glanced up at him from the confines of his bloody, wet sweater. Then it was his turn to forget to breathe. Hannibal's lips were slightly parted and on his face was an expression of absolute bliss. Will saw how much his affection was appreciated, and he was so curious to see what Hannibal would do if he went even further. This adoration made him feel in control, and he very much wanted to be in control. Stability was so often a fleeting thing in his life, especially with how life was at this moment. This was a completely new life. Crashing into the ocean with this beautiful, terrible man in his arms felt like a kind of violent baptism. Bedelia's bitter words echoed in his mind. "You've found religion." He smiled up at the man who touched him like he was the most precious thing he had ever seen. It seemed like they both had.
"I want to help you now" he breathed, slipping his hands under sweater and shirt and standing up to lift it over his head. The second he was free of it Hannibal reached for him. Both hands cupped his jawline, thumbs caressed his stubbled cheeks and the corner of his mouth. They looked at one another, really looked. Will had never seen a man look simultaneously aroused, starving, and lost. He smiled, Hannibal touched their foreheads together and said something under his breath in a voice full of quiet disbelief. It sounded like he said something about the sky, but Will had no idea what it meant. He didn't think Hannibal meant for him to hear it.
They shared air in that close space, with less than an inch between their lips. Will began to work on Hannibal's buckle without looking down. When the belt came loose he took an end in each hand and roughly pulled Hannibal tight against him. Will's erection strained against Hannibal's pants, two layers of fabric separating him from the other man's painful arousal. There was a sharp intake of breath and in an instant Hannibal was trying to devour his tongue. They kissed almost desperately, like they were both lost in the world with nothing to anchor them to reality but one another. Will felt the most powerful need he had ever experienced, the intensity of it made every desire up to this point pale in comparison. When they broke apart, Hannibal's breathy laughter twisted up his insides and he knew then how inescapably in love he was, and how he never really had a choice in any of this.
They fell to the bed and he was pinned beneath the larger man's weight. As if reading his thoughts, Hannibal kissed the edge of his jaw and then his mouth found Will's jugular. A moment of mixed panic and burning arousal hit him and he gasped, remembering the Dragon's throat being ripped out so viciously by this man who was holding him so carefully. Hot words were kissed against his throat. "How is it possible that you do this to me Will? I have never wanted anything more." Will grinned and unbuttoned the pants between them. He pulled them down and immediately moved a hand to Hannibal's ass and pushed their aching cocks together. One of them moaned into the other's mouth as the sweat and dark ocean on their skin mixed with blood from their still untreated wounds. Then Hannibal did something that turned Will on more than he thought possible.
Something incredibly carnal took over Hannibal as he pressed Will's hand to his bleeding side. He forced Will to apply a bit of pressure, groaned against his lips and when his hand was slick with blood Hannibal took him by the wrist and guided it down between them. Will wrapped his right hand tightly around them both and Hannibal did the same with his left, their fingers interlaced as they squeezed and slid against one another, messy and erratic and so fucking perfect. He felt so much more sensitive than he ever did, every touch had his entire body screaming for more. He loosened his grip and they slowed to an agonizing pace, and he closed his eyes and went back to that moment where they killed together. Right when he was at the part where Hannibal was about to leap onto the dragon's back he felt stinging heat against his shoulder. Fuck. Hannibal was circling the stab wound with his tongue, staring directly at him with the darkest eyes, pupils sex-blown wide. He bucked hard against Hannibal and dragged him back up to his needy mouth, the lingering pain made every stroke so much more intense.
Love, pain, love, love, agony... now his mind turned back to the last truly passionate moment he had before three years of monotony. A hot blade buried in his gut, an explosion of pain, misery and both of them simultaneously praying for forgiveness. Vision fading, Hannibal stroking his hair and holding him tight, burying his face in Will's shoulder while he felt his world falling apart. When he felt he could no longer stand it he dug his teeth into Hannibal's bottom lip and flipped them around, pushing him into the mattress. When he was straddling the panting, very pleased man with half-lidded eyes beneath him, Will leaned in close to his ear. "You're going to fuck me. You've watched me and wanted me for a very long time. Every time a piece of someone you killed was in my mouth, you wanted to be in my mouth just as badly. When I told you I fantasized about killing you with my bare hands, you fantasized about letting me. And you couldn't let me get away. One way or another, you had to consume me." Hannibal shuddered and made a sound between a growl and a moan as Will bit his earlobe hard enough to bleed. "I had to want you to consume me. Tonight I'm giving myself over to you completely, but tomorrow you're mine, and I'm taking what I want from you."
Hannibal immediately crashed their mouths together again and kissed him with an almost religious fervor. He lifted him with all injuries forgotten and flipped him back to their previous position. They were a mess. Blood covered the sheets, covered themselves, and Will felt that new murderous excitement burning in his chest. He saw himself through Hannibal's eyes, slipping effortlessly between perspectives.
It was spread out beneath him on a silver platter, naked and completely vulnerable. Ambrosia. This was what he needed to be completely satiated, this is what was missing... the most beautiful man Hannibal knew he would ever meet, and he wanted to be as close as physically possible to him. After everything he had done to Will... a distant part of him was still afraid that it had been too much and there was no possibility of this lasting. That same part of him didn't understand how this could be happening, it didn't trust that this was real, until Will slipped Hannibal's blood-covered finger inside the warm confines of his mouth and shook him from his daze. He needed him. He quite literally could not live without him. He was irrevocably and so painfully in love and he had to be closer, he had to be closer right. Now.
With a hunger he had never before felt, he possessively slipped Will's most sensitive parts in his mouth and hummed with pleasure. The blood, the salt, the hint of precome on the back of his tongue, the shape and the give of Will's cock had him practically sighing in ecstasy. It was never a conscious possibility to him that he could have his cake and eat it too. Never in a million years did he think Will would be willingly opening his heart or anything else to him. He had hoped, but never really believed, so with the subtlety of a jackhammer he made it his goal to claim him, and dear god Will was practically whimpering now. Slowly, slowly he savored Will, took him as deep as he could, thrilled by the hands on the back of his head pushing him deeper. Deeper. Wait. Will wanted to choke him, he wasn't allowing him to come up for air. That was good, that was so good. So good. He was being punished, Will was taking control. Starting to wrestle for dominancy. A hand wrapped around Hannibal's throat and he knew he was right. Something had to be done about this.
He sucked and swallowed hard, constricting his throat enough to have Will gasping. He had to make Will come before he lost consciousness. Smiling around Will's cock, he looked right into his eyes and put his own hand over Will's, encouraging him to choke him harder. Will's eyes were glazed over and his mouth was open, his hips pushed and kept him deep in the back of Hannibal's throat. He refused to convey any sort of urgency. Hannibal's peripheral vision began to go and he let himself get messy. He pushed up against the pressure on the back of his head until Will slammed him down again. Hannibal's cock was throbbing, he felt the danger of dying like this was actually very real as Will began to mechanically lift him up and down by the hand around his throat. The SOUNDS he was making... He let Will manipulate him and throat-fuck him until he came violently with a shout and professions of love, filling his stomach with hot, heavy seed. Will refused to loosen his grip until he swallowed every drop, and Hannibal was just dying for his turn.
Will released him and lay there thoroughly satisfied and VERY aware that what he had just done was very stupid. He wanted to see what would happen, and he NEEDED to punish him for trying to control who he was. For lying to him. They could both play that game... and he realized that he liked the game.
Hannibal was sloppy, panting, and crawling up to meet him. Will had no idea what his retaliation would be, and he braced himself. A soft kiss was the first thing to land, and hands slipping underneath his thighs. They smiled against each other’s mouths. It was Hannibal's turn to control and he was ready for it. His hot tongue slid along Will's lips and made him taste his own come. A split second later and Hannibal lifted him up and sharply THRUST his cock inside Will, pushing until it could go no deeper. The pain was so intense, he felt like he was about to rip apart. He shouted and moaned at the sensation of fullness, remembering the other penetration and looking down at the scar on his stomach. He could see Hannibal's cock stretching up exactly there. Seeing that made his whole body tremble and he felt himself immediately getting hard again. Hannibal didn't give him a second to adjust. He pulled out completely then slammed it back in deep, setting a punishing rhythm. Will angled his hips so he could get even deeper and threw his legs over Hannibal's shoulders. It hurt, it was supposed to hurt, and it was hot and they were so fucking close to one another.
He tried to relax his body as much as he could as Hannibal thrust into him over and over again but as soon as he began to really enjoy it he pulled out of Will and pushed him down on his stomach with his ass in the air. Hannibal mounted him like a dog, hands dug brutally into his hips as a spike of pain flashed up his spine and then he was perfectly full again. His toes curled and he found himself rocking his hips back against Hannibal in time with the thrusts, he wanted to be closer. He loved it he loved it he hurt and never wanted it to stop. All he could feel was heat and pressure and fullness and friction and love and HANNIBAL leaned over and sunk his teeth into his shoulder while he came, thrusting sharply a few more times before slumping over on top of Will. He stayed like that, inside him as long as possible, placing soft kisses where he bit and along the scar on his forehead until he was soft and slipped out in a puddle of come.
Lying there with Hannibal curled behind him and arms wrapped lazily around him, he felt completely at peace. He didn't think about the future, he didn't think about how much he hurt, and he didn't try to analyze any of the emotions that he felt. This was good, this was right, and he trusted Hannibal completely to protect him. They would protect each other, and continue to explore their mutual masochistic and sadomasochistic fantasies. Will turned around to face him and they brushed noses and foreheads, tangled their legs together and fell asleep still bleeding and not caring.