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Hannibal can’t stop thinking about the events that transpired earlier in the day. Will sitting across from him in the sleek, black leather armchair with his thighs spread out invitingly just as he always did in the past. It's oh so distracting to Hannibal’s practices every time he comes face to face with Will’s manspreading. He'd kept his hands in his lap in order for Will not to see how his threats tormented him.
On the drive home from his office all he can think about is Will. Wills strong hands. Wills moist tongue and how he looked at him when he sensually licked his lips, eyes glittering in the dim lights, whispering, “I don’t want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter. Not now that I finally find you interesting…” Hannibal had been throbbing in his armchair, legs crossed and showing nothing, but he gets the feeling that Will knew. Will had to know just how erotic he looked and sounded saying those words. Telling Hannibal he'd kill him with his hands has had Hannibal on edge all night.
Every car on the road is a haze as his vision seemed to cloud over. He’s normally a very cautious and alert driver, but with his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and burning in his loins he can't pay much quality attention.
Thankfully, traffic is light tonight in Baltimore and Hannibal doesn't have much issue. How embarrassing to get in a crash with an erection. Hannibal doesn’t do embarrassed. The traffic parts like the sea just for him to arrive home safely.
Once inside the house, he rushes to his bedroom. Usually, Hannibal would get home and start preparing dinner, but for once, eating can wait. He feels an insatiable hunger in a different regard, and he cannot stomach waiting any longer for relief. He steps out of his shoes and slings his coat over the blue ottoman at the foot of his bed. When he tugs his tie off a little too fast and it catches tight on his throat, he thinks about how Wills warm hands would feel at his throat. How desirable it would be for Will to crush the life out of him. Hannibal feels light of breath as if Will was really there, choking him from behind.
Hannibal swallows hard. He feels the overwhelming urge to talk to Will.
Not an urge he is unfamiliar with. Will is always a top priority in his head; occupying so many rooms in his mind palace.
The last couple appointments that evening had gone by in a blur. He'd actually thought about canceling them after Will ruined his ability to think coherently, however that would’ve been incredibly rude and Hannibal does have some morals he sticks by.
He pulls his phone from his back pocket and checks to see if he has any messages or missed calls from Will. Of course he doesn’t, but it still stings deep in his chest. After so many months without his sessions with Will, having him back in his life is both exciting and terrifying. Will knowing that he’s the Chesapeake ripper. Will still sticking around. Hannibal knows it’s trouble and that this can lead to no good, but he needs to see it played out. His emotions for Will were already incredibly complicated and now they’re even worse. He knows Will will betray him and yet he aches for Will. Aches for his touch, aches for his love, aches for his companionship and those hurtful, ugly words that cut into him like a hot knife.
His fingers twitch above the call button. It’s late and Will would likely chide him for calling.
He wants to say so many things. I’ve missed you. I admire your courage-I know you’re scared to be near me-you always puff up your chest and keep a brave face. I’m falling deeply, madly and painfully in love with you more and more each passing day...
He presses call before he can psych himself out of it. He moves to half-lay in the middle of his bed with his shoulders against his plump white pillows and his legs crossed at the ankles. His slacks feel tight and restrictive against him even though he isn’t hard yet.
Will answers after a long wait and grumbles out an annoyed “What do you want, Dr. Lecter?”
Hannibal’s lip twitches. Disgusting, awful boy. “Hello, Will. I wish to speak to you about todays conversation.”
“This can’t wait until the next one? The next session,” Will corrects. Hannibal can hear the faint sounds of dog food hitting metal bowls and a dog panting close by. “I’m a little busy.”
Will sounds tense but more relaxed than he was in Hannibal's office. He presumes a mix of dog and whiskey to be the reason for Will’s relaxed nature and the rough edge to Will's voice confirms Hannibal's suspicions about him drinking.
“I've been mulling over what you said, Will. I would like you to elaborate on something for me.” Hannibal quietly undoes his slacks and pushes them down in the front, careful not to forewarn Will of his nefarious intentions.
Will sighs, exasperated. “Is this about me saying I’d kill you with my bare hands? Hannibal, look-“
Hannibal feels lust and excitement pooling in his gut, his breathing heavier and his head fuzzy with arousal. “Will. I need you to tell me exactly how you would kill me. Tell me what you would do in detail.” He slips his hand into his underwear and squeezes the base of his now semi-hard cock. His breath hitches.
Will goes quiet and still for a moment before Hannibal hears him sit down on his bed. The cheap mattress squeaks under his weight. Hannibal closes his eyes and tries to picture Will there; hair a mess after a long day with his dark shirt half untucked and his hand scrubbing over his face in frustration. Will sighs again. It’s a ragged, broken noise that Hannibal feels rattle through his whole body. “What’s your angle here, Dr. Lecter? Do you intend to analyze my fantasy?”
Fantasy. There's that delicious word again, this time dripping from Will's silken lips. Hannibal feels heavy and warm; a small smile forming on his mouth at the thought of Will fantasizing about him. He pulls his sex from his underwear, hand cupping his scrotum in a way that makes his cock twitch in pleasure. He tries to imagine Wills hand instead of his own. He figures that Will is likely inexperienced with men and his grip would be too tight, tentative and nervous. Hannibal’s fingers move back to his shaft and he grasps tighter than he normally would, emulating this imaginary Will Graham in front of him. He gasps quietly, heart crashing like a gong in this chest, so hard and loud that he can hear it ringing in his ears. He wonders if Will can hear his heart. Surely he can’t, but what would Will think if he could hear how wildly Hannibal’s heart beats for him?
“I’m only curious, Will. I want to know the plan you’ve thought up.”
Will sounds slightly winded when he whispers: “I’d try to catch you when you’re least expecting it. I know you’re always on guard and always armed, so I likely wouldn’t have the upper hand anyway, but…” he swallows and Hannibal shudders at the obscene wet sound his throat makes.
“Go on…” Hannibal moves the phone an arm's length away from his face and he spits in his other palm before seizing his cock again, strokes teasingly slow. He moves the phone back to his ear, gripping. The healing wounds on his wrists throb with every movement and flex of muscle but that only spurs him on further. Wills detestation and resentment tattooed into his flesh eternally. Pain and pleasure have always been connected for Hannibal just as hate and love are connected in regard to Will's feelings for him.
“I’d probably attack you from behind…” Wills voice is low but level. He doesn’t sound quite as tense anymore and Hannibal hears the spring in his mattress again as Will shifts to lay down on the bed. “I’d get you in a chokehold, head against my shoulder…But you’d try to stab me with your scalpel. I know that. If I had the element of surprise on you, I’d try to get it from your pocket before you can cut me… would you go for my arms or my face? Maybe you’d reach behind and thrust it into my back or side…” Will makes an effort to enunciate his ‘th’ in a sinful way that sends Hannibal spiraling. His hand quickens on his cock.
“ Will,” Hannibal sighs and brushes his thumb over the slick slit of his nearly purple cockhead.
“Hannibal-“ panicked “A-are you-What are you doing?” Will trips on his words and audibly swallows again.
Hannibal’s hand doesn’t stop. Wills fearful and trembling voice only urges him on and he arches his neck, hair falling against the pillow beneath his shoulder blades. "I’d stab you in the side just under your ribs. It wouldn’t kill you but it would injure you enough for you to loosen your arm around me so I can escape. What would you do then, Will?”
Will doesn’t speak for a long moment and Hannibal’s heart hammers violently in his chest as Will’s heavy breathing slowly evens out again. “Assuming you didn’t remove the scalpel I’d probably pull it out and throw it somewhere. Make it a fair fight.”
Hannibal switches the call to speaker and lays the phone on his chest. Can you hear my heart, Will? Do you hear the cardiovascular workout you're giving me?
He grasps his balls with his now free hand and fists his cock faster, undoubtedly audible in the call.
“Hannibal please,” Will pleads. He sounds nervous but he makes no effort to disconnect the call. Doesn’t tell him to stop.
This only encourages Hannibal more. He closes his eyes and imagines Will on the bed with him, between his legs and eagerly but anxiously stroking him with his beautiful, hard working hands. Hands that are smaller than Hannibal’s but strong and rough from years of manual labor. Pictures Wills wide, beautiful blue eyes looking up at him with desire and need. Wills tongue lapping at the pre-ejaculate trickling from his cock. Hannibal’s thighs begin to shake as his orgasm nears.
“How would you kill me,” Hannibal rasps out. His accent gets thicker and his voice lower when he’s close to orgasm. He can hear the way it effects Will; how his breath hitches and he whimpers quietly like a wounded dog.
“You’d take a swing at me. I’d dodge you, or perhaps I wouldn’t. Maybe you’d strike and make impact. I'd be stunned, but I can take it...” Wills voice gets gradually deeper as he speaks.
“I'm sure you would,” Hannibal groans. “I bet that you'd take me so well, Will.”
“Jesus fuck-“ Will whispers and whimpers again. Hannibal hears the rustle of fabric and he wishes he could see Will desperately. Longs to see him touch himself. “I'd try to grab you again, maybe by your hair this time.” Hannibal’s hand flies off his balls and to the back of his hair, gripping tightly, pulling his head back deeper into the pillow as his body sinks into the mattress. “And then I’d smash your face into the nearest surface. The wall. A table…”
Hannibal fully moans, face scrunching and toes curling in intense pleasure and pain. He twists his hair, pulling a few strands from the root with his strength. “Are you imagining it, Will? Do you see? Your hands in my hair... The blood…”
Will whines and Hannibal can hear what he thinks is Wills hips jerking. His shitty mattress must not get a lot of extracurricular activity, Hannibal muses, wondering just how terrible it must sound during sex. “Ye-s. Yes. I can feel your hair in my hands. It’s so soft…” Will sounds emotional, like he might be crying. Now the imaginary Will in front of Hannibal is crying too, with his lips stretched around Hannibal’s girth as his saliva and tears streak down his face and Hannibal’s shaft.
He hears Will shift and then there’s another squeak from the mattress. Will thrusting against it.
“What then? What you do after you slam me into the surface? Would you do it again? Or would you choke me?”
Will sounds more muffled now, like he’s got his face in the bedding or a pillow. The mattress springs sing a loud and elongated song as Wills hips hit the mattress again and again. Hannibal thinks of Will thrusting against his ass with those beautiful fingers ripping at his scalp. He tries to envision Will on his bed. Is he in his slacks or in his boxers? Maybe he doesn’t have anything on and he’s thrusting his cock dry against the blanket. “I’d do it again,” he’s breathless and wrecked. “I’d do it until your mouth pours blood and your nose is broken. And then I’d turn you around and choke you while you look into my eyes. I want to see the life leave them. I want to feel your last bre-ath against my face."
Hannibal’s hand leaves his hair and he grips his own throat, squeezing. He chokes on a moan and spills over his fist while his hips thrust up violently to meet his hand.
Will lets out a ragged cry and Hannibal’s head spins. He looks at the ceiling and feels drunk. Everything is out of focus and warm and moving like a carousel in front of him.
There’s one final, loud cry as Wills hips jerk viciously into his mattress. Hannibal’s so far gone he barely hears Will moan “ Hannibal…”
It takes Hannibal a moment to catch his breath. Will is silent except for his loud panting. Hannibals shaking fingers caresses the case of his phone as if it’s Will’s face and he whispers a pleased praise, “Thank you, Will. You never fail to surprise me, brilliant boy.”
There’s a soft sob on the other line before it disconnects to radio silence. Hannibal smiles to himself in the glow of post-orgasmic delight and victory from Will getting off to their violence. He closes his eyes and sees Will curled in on himself, small and trembling both from red-hot shame and pleasure. Hannibal knows that this will set Will back, but he can’t bring himself to reflect on the consequences at hand.
Hannibal falls asleep in his clothes with a smile etched on his face and Will moaning his name pounding hot in his ears.