Chapter Text
One shot of coffee, three quarters of water, one quarter of milk. This is how Will usually likes his morning coffee. But today, he is going to want two shots. Hannibal knows it.
He knows it because he remembers hearing a small sound of discomfort escape from Will’s lips earlier this morning, followed by Will rubbing his temple in his sleep. A headache. Whenever Will wakes up with one, he prefers his coffee stronger; two shots, but with the same amount of milk. Will mentioned this briefly a month or two ago, in an offhand fashion, but Hannibal remembers.
He always pays attention, always remembers. Not a single detail relating to Will’s needs, wants, or preferences goes unnoticed, no matter how small or trivial. Hannibal has always been naturally perceptive, but when it comes to Will, it’s more deliberate than automatic; he actively enjoys being as attentive and considerate as possible with the man that owns his heart.
Hannibal doesn’t need to be like that, but he wants to.
He loves Will. It’s an everlasting, undeniable fact, something that has been a stable constant in Hannibal’s life for years. He was afraid of it at first and deemed it a weakness, trying his hardest to bury it by hurting Will and pushing him away. Despite all that, and contrary to Hannibal’s expectations, Will reciprocated his feelings. It took mutual heartbreak, suffering, sacrifices, spilling of blood, and even Hannibal confronting his childhood trauma, in order for them to come clean about their feelings for each other. But now it’s done, and Hannibal is sure that Will loves him fully and unconditionally.
Knowing that about Will makes Hannibal bloom on the inside, like a flower unfolding its delicate petals in the wake of spring. It’s a beautiful notion, to have their hearts beating for each other; a sensation so novel and wonderful that Hannibal wants to enjoy it without holding back, to openly express his adoration for Will and be regarded with the same affection in return.
Maybe it’s his hedonistic nature. He’s always been one to unapologetically indulge in all the pleasures of life, taking everything he can get, and making the most of every moment like it could be his last. Because of this, the three excruciatingly long years of confinement were particularly difficult. Hannibal missed his luxurious lifestyle tremendously, but the hardest part was being away from Will. Now, he makes sure to appreciate his beloved to the fullest.
Hannibal usually awakens in the early hours of the morning and takes his time to marvel at Will’s sleeping form. His Will, more intelligent than humans, more ethereal than angels, more tempting than the devil himself. Even now, after spending several months with Will, he still gets stuck staring, completely enamoured. They’ve spent every moment together since leaving Castle Lecter in Lithuania and settling in sunny Australia, and still, Hannibal doesn’t grow tired of seeing Will every day.
“Morning,” Will hums, pulling Hannibal out of his rose-coloured reverie.
“Good morning, Will. I brought you coffee,” he responds, setting the mug down on Will’s nightstand.
Will thanks him by placing a soft kiss to his lips. No, Hannibal never grows tired of that either. Will takes a sip and his eyelashes flutter as he sighs in contentment.
“It’s perfect.”
Of course it is. Hannibal made sure of it.
“I hope it helps with your headache,” he says, a smile dancing across his features.
Will looks at him and rubs sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “How did you know I have a headache?”
“I couldn’t help but notice.”
Will pauses. “Did you watch me sleep?” he asks slowly, with a hint of incredulity in his voice.
“Perhaps.” Hannibal’s fond, dreamy smile grows wider.
“You’re so weird,” Will huffs, averting his eyes.
He lets out a small laugh, a bit too high-pitched, a bit too awkward-sounding to be natural. Hannibal doesn’t mind. He knows that it’s going to take a while for Will to fully get accustomed to the domesticity. It’s new and strange for both of them, but it doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with it.
“You know how much I treasure everything beautiful.”
“Is that why you draw me so much?” Will asks, glancing at the desk on the other side of the room, a multitude of pencil sketches spread across it.
They’re all drawings of Will. Various poses, various angles, various states of dress – or rather, undress. Some are simple line art, quick sketches whenever Hannibal’s in the mood to doodle. Others are fully coloured, with details and proper shading; products of the times Hannibal sits down and spends hours etching every inch of Will’s gorgeous physique onto the paper.
“Yes, Will. You inspire me more than anything else.”
Will rubs the back of his neck, a slight pink tinge spreading across his face. It could be from drinking all that hot coffee, but Hannibal knows better.
“I’m just a normal guy. Not even that good-looking,” Will objects softly.
“To me, you are the most enthralling being under the sun.”
Will gives him a vague hum in response and climbs out of bed, tugging on a T-shirt and a pair of pants. He doesn’t quite know how to react to the constant display of affection Hannibal showers him in, but Hannibal is a patient man.
“Do we have any bread?” Will asks, swiftly changing the topic, “I feel like having toast.”
Hannibal always – always – makes sure that they have Will’s favourite kind of bread, as well as his other favourite foods. But he doesn’t mention that stocking the kitchen is a deliberate act, and lets Will assume that it’s simply a pleasant coincidence. Hannibal decides it’ll be less overwhelming for Will that way.
“Yes, I believe we have half a loaf,” he says casually.
Will nods and saunters to the kitchen.
Hannibal leaves him to do his morning routine. Will sticks to it most days. First, he eats his breakfast while skimming over the latest news on TV and the internet, keeping an eye out for anything that could concern them and their whereabouts. After that, he takes a walk. Hannibal deduces that this must be a habit he formed while living with all his dogs, as they needed to be walked regularly.
When Will returns, he does exercises for his shoulder that was mangled by Dolarhyde. It’s fully healed by now, after almost a year, but Will never bothered with workouts so it never regained its elasticity and range of motion. There was no need for it while he played house with Molly and played tag with Hannibal. But now that their faces are at the top of the FBI's most wanted list, they need to be in the best physical shape they can.
It’s a humid day, so Will takes off his shirt before doing his exercises. His naked upper body basks in the warm sun, sweat glistening on the smooth skin and attracting Hannibal’s ravenous eyes like a magnet.
Hannibal doesn’t stare, as staring is impolite, but he looks.
He looks, letting his gaze tastefully linger over Will’s bare chest. He knows Will is well aware of how irresistible Hannibal finds his nude body, and since Will hasn’t indicated that it makes him uncomfortable, Hannibal doesn’t feel guilty for looking.
He tries to focus on reading his book, he really, truly tries, but he can’t help his eyes glancing up at Will every minute or so. He notices Will rub his shoulder blade and frown. Hannibal tries to keep his hands off Will as much as he can, but he doesn’t hold back when there is a real reason to touch. He stands up and smooths the palms of his hands over Will’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Being a doctor, Hannibal knows exactly how to loosen the knots of tension in someone’s muscles, which is an infinitely better solution than Will trying to massage his own back with an arm awkwardly bent backwards.
Will’s head rolls to the side and he lets out a satisfied hum. Hannibal is just about to suggest that he can happily offer a full body massage, when his beloved turns around to face him, arms draping around the back of Hannibal’s neck. Will catches his lips into a kiss, then another, then the third. The ones after that melt together, turning into a cascade of two mouths moving against each other, without parting for a long while.
When they break apart, Hannibal continues nuzzling Will’s neck while their feet carry them towards the nearest couch, as if controlled by one mind. They kiss again as Hannibal sinks into the soft couch cushion, with Will sitting on his lap. His hands spread wide over Will’s lower back, keeping him balanced as the younger man bends down to nibble along Hannibal’s jawline.
Hannibal cherishes mornings like this, when there are no errands to run and they can spend as long as they want enjoying each other’s touch. There is no rush to get anywhere; he is simply content to take his time exploring Will’s body – as much of it as he’s been allowed to explore so far.
There are certain stages in the consummation of their relationship that they haven’t reached yet. Of course, Hannibal aches to entwine their naked bodies together, to become conjoined not only spiritually but physically too. He knows that Will wants it just as much, but –
All in due time, Hannibal has to remind himself.
The air in the room heats up, and not just because of the hot sun outside. Hannibal isn’t exactly sure if the maddening grind of Will’s hips against his is anchoring him into the present moment, or giving him an out-of-body experience of floating in an endorphin-induced heaven. It must be both; such is Will’s otherworldly influence on him.
Hannibal remembers that he’s still wearing a shirt and is now eager to slip out of it, but Will is two steps ahead, already working the buttons open. His clever, charming boy. A blissful smile spreads across Hannibal’s face, and he goes back to delicately tugging on Will’s bottom lip with his teeth, while letting his hands trace the ridges of Will’s spine.
It’s good, so good, just like this; nothing less, nothing more. But as much as Hannibal hates admitting it, he is simply a man riddled with the same temptations as the rest of mankind. So, while being with Will like this is good, he can’t help wanting more. The insistent rocking of Will’s hips is tantalizing, and Hannibal is dying to touch, to feel, to make Will experience the kind of profound pleasure no lover has given him before.
His own hips thrust up in time with Will’s, desperate to relieve the pressure building up in his slacks. He can’t help it, can’t help chasing the friction, even though he knows that the more he escalates their desire, the harder they both fall from grace.
It always happens, and today is no exception.
Will groans, slowly opens his eyes, and peels his hands off Hannibal. He stands up, giving Hannibal one last kiss. It tastes like an apology.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” he says, voice thick and breathy with unfulfilled need.
Hannibal nods and smiles, doesn’t let his face show any unacceptable feelings that would ruin the budding intimacy between them.
Will leaves, the lock in the bathroom door clicking into place behind him. When he showers at a time that isn’t immediately after their kisses turn a little more heated, he doesn’t bother locking the door. Hannibal has noticed. He knows what happens in that shower cubicle, even though the water drowns out the little gasps and moans and washes away all the evidence of Will finishing himself off.
If that’s how Will wants to do it, Hannibal isn’t going to object. If he doesn’t want to be touched like that, Hannibal will respect it. He is a patient man. It doesn't matter that Will chooses to deny them both the ultimate act of pleasure, especially because he allows Hannibal so many other things. Will allows the idyllic domesticity, the romantic partnership, the kissing and the lingering touches. Hannibal couldn’t be happier. He is finally with the man of his dreams, building a new life together, and it’s enough. It really, truly, is enough.
But Hannibal can’t help but wonder why.
Why won’t Will let himself be touched? It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy it. Quite the contrary; Hannibal can see his arousal every time they’re on each other, clinging to one another’s bodies with hands and mouths. Hannibal wonders if being with a man is the problem. He never got a chance to ask if Will has felt attraction to men before, and if he asked now, it would feel like he’s doing it with a specific agenda. Hannibal wouldn’t want to guilt Will into it.
Even if all Will’s past sexual encounters had been with women, it’s evident to Hannibal that Will is attracted to him on a physical level. So, he can’t figure out what the issue is.
He knows it’s nothing to do with broken trust or any kind of trauma response stemming from the things he did to Will in the past. Will lets Hannibal touch him everywhere else, even the scars that were inflicted by no one other than Hannibal himself. He trusts Hannibal not to hurt him. He isn’t wary about turning his back to Hannibal, or being asleep next to him. Will isn’t scared when Hannibal handles weapons close to him. They even spar regularly, practising their close combat skills on each other, in case they’re ever attacked. Will doesn’t have any reservations about that kind of touch.
So, if it isn’t due to the lack of physical attraction, or to trust issues, then what is it? Hannibal has infinite patience, but also infinite curiosity.
He is determined to find out.