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The reason he only ever drinks a few glasses of wine (as delicious as it might be) at a time is clear to him, but thankfully, to no one else. He is, however, also used to quite a quantity, so it never gets really dangerous.
That is, if Hannibal has company.
There are times though, when he sits alone in his study and forgets what he drank and how much. They are seldom and certainly unwanted, for they always end in cold memories of winter and uneven layers of snow, of screams and broth. The next morning is always a combination of headache, chaos and regret. He just should not lose control like this, he has got things to be careful with after all.
Too late Hannibal realised that this night was indeed such a night. It hit him as he stood to get himself another tumbler of Chiva's Regal. He could not remember why he chose a whisky so common and while he tried pouring another, his feet and knees did an awkward jumble. Silently muttering to himself about how bad of an idea this was he just took the bottle and sat down again.
Lost in thought and glassy-eyed he almost did not hear the doorbell. Rude and unannounced it interfered with his evening, as inelegant as it was.
Forcing himself up and readjusting his creased suit he made his way to the door, slowly, very slowly and trying to get himself under control.
Behind the door waited a sorry looking Will Graham.
'Dr. Lecter, I am sorry to disturb you, but... Are you drunk?', his voice wavered through the air, unanswered for now, making its way through to Hannibal's ears. With quite some delay, he heard himself saying: 'Good evening Will, what brings you to my door?'
He missed the question and what happened next was, as odd as it was for Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Chesapeake Ripper, surgeon, psychiatrist and socialite, completely out of his control.
Will took his arm, wrapped one of his own around his waist and led him back to his study. He was stuttering something about being perfectly fine walking on his own but was betrayed by the sudden compliance. Hannibal almost felt like crying. This was not how he was supposed to behave.
He was sat on the settee, Will warm and magnetic beside him.
You have to know, a person, or better, a human being, who is always in control will easily lose all of it in an instance given the right circumstances. Hannibal's special circumstances were made up of an abundance of alcohol and memories, that he did know. What he did not know was, that if Will Graham was added to the mixture, he would experience a wholly different level of loss of control.
Slowly, very slowly, he felt himself sink into Will's arms, curling up into the warmth. Will slid one arm around him and softly caressed his neck, stroking up and down from hairline to his shoulders. They sat like that in silence. Will did not show signs of insecurity, which would strike Hannibal's interest in the morning. Right now, all he knew was that Will was there. He was actually physically as well as mentally there for Hannibal. The memories that would normally have flooded him by now did not come, he moved his hand to Will's stomach, resting it there and feeling the movement of his breath.
'I will not ask you what this is about.', Will gestured to the bottle of Chiva's almost empty on the table. Hannibal looked up and saw his lips moving, saw the gravitational pull in small vectors going in all directions.
He leaned upwards and found more warmth on Will's lips. Small movements, creaks on his lips, alcohol (his own?). Pulling back slightly he found his eyes. Hannibal's eyes were still glassy, the sheer amount of alcohol visible in the white of them. But there also was something else, a need, a longing, that made Will pull Hannibal on top of himself. Chest to chest and oh so near, they could feel each other's hearts pump blood through their veins and for a moment it was enough.
Hannibal's body felt unwound, free and for the first time he could remember it felt right to let someone else reign over him. Easing his mouth on Will's neck he began grinding softly with his hips. He breathed low and put small kisses on the prominent vein before him. No need to hurt, not even to dominate. He let himself be turned over and spread on the settee by Will who seemed to undergo is very own epiphany.
Will slowly undressed Hannibal, starting with undoing the buttons of his vest, then the white button-down. The hands on his bare chest crawling through the hair felt like - his thought were cut short by his own hips starting upwards where Will opened his trousers and soon by the warm breath on his barely clothed erection.
Suddenly his whole upper body felt cold and he amost surged upwards to find Will again who graciously embraced him, his lips on Hannibal's in a mere instant. Held safe and sound. He tried to crawl into this other body, into this empathy and God, all his thoughts ended with warmth.
His hips canted into Will's and he found enough breath and sobriety whisper only:'Nearer, Will, please. On me, no in me, please, in need something.'
Will pulled down Hannibal's black briefs and instantly wrapped his hand around Hannibal's length, collecting precum and watching Hannibal's face, so uncharacteristicly open, eyes shut tightly, mouth slightly agape.
Soon enough, one cum-slicked finger found its way into Hannibal, feeling uneven, odd and somehow right. Everything that felt human was right, this was, most certainly, the closest to human he has been for a long time. As he was pushing down, a second finger was inserted, a third finger followed - alcohol stilled dulled the most pain.
'Please, Will.' He could not articulate any more. The two of them, drenched in sweat, alienated from the rest of their fellow humans. Similar and yet so different.
All Hannibal heard was the metallic scratching of a zipper and then he was reduced to feeling only Will, his cock, plump and hot against, in himself.
Pushing and pulling them once again as close as he could, Will kissed him from above. His thighs between Hannibal's, Will was still clothed and he silently vowed to feel that skin, whatever it took. But for this exact moment, all he needed was Will inside him, the, by now frantic movement, the hectic and wet kisses. Everything wet and sloppy, beautiful.
The end came way to soon, the friction from Will's stomach and loose shirt proving too much for Hannibal, he came silently screaming. Opening and shutting his mouth more than once while Will kept pounding and abruptly went still, pushing inside Hannibal, then collapsed against his chest.
Whatever had troubled Will so much, that he came to Hannibal's in the dead of the night, it did not trouble him when he awoke in the morning.
All the things that troubled Hannibal, that drove him to drink so much sometimes, all the regret that normally came with such nights, did not come. They stayed safely contained behind the wall that was a sleeping Will Graham on the settee beside him.