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Will's eyes flutter open, the feeling of a big gust of wind flowing past him. The hardwood door to Hannibal's office appears in front of him. The rest of his surroundings around him are a blur, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing through the door. Hannibal stands near his chair, pouring a distinctly thick red liquid into two wine glasses.
Dark eyes look up to meet him, a Cheshire smile pulling at his lips. He picks up the two glasses, extending one out to Will before bringing his own up to his lips and taking a delicate sip. Will glances away, trying not to focus on the swipe of his tongue over his top lip.
“Will. Please, sit. We have much to discuss.” Hannibal's words slither out of his mouth, worming their way into the crevices of Wills's mind. He has felt particularly unwell lately but still manages to sit without giving too much away. Hannibal sits in sync, which Will notes as odd in his mind. He gracefully crosses one leg over the other, tilting his head along with his body. Boundless eyes study him: the anxious twitch of his hands around the glass, a button out of place on his flannel, the sweat dripping down his temple. As much as Will felt he was keeping it together his appearance gave way to his true state of mind.
“Something is wrong. Did Jack push you too far today?” Hannibal's voice is deceptively faint, a mere act of care. Will can see behind the veil, the hunger to provoke, to prod at the malleable parts of his brain. With a quick shake of the head, Will downs some of his wine. He is shocked at the thick texture, and tangy, almost metallic taste.
“Unique choice for a Wine Doctor. Almost reminds me of blood.” Will says while setting his glass down next to him. He continues, “To answer your question, no. Just paperwork today, the monotony has been getting to me.” Will fiddles with his glasses, glancing away from Hannibal with a telling look on his face.
“And yet I fail to believe that. You’re shaking Will, tell me what is truly on your mind. This is a safe space, I promise.” Hannibal mirrors Will, setting his glass down and leaning forward to put his chin in his palm.
Will fails to believe the other man, something about him is off, something about the room is off. Taking a moment to glance around the office, he feels his stomach drop when he finally looks back at the man across from him. Hannibal is covered in blood, the luxurious pattern being drowned out by the deep red stains around it. There is an obscene amount of blood around his mouth, and the glass next to him is empty.
When Will looks down at himself, his eyes widen. He too is covered in blood, in fact, a thin layer of the liquid coats the ground around him. He feels his chest begin to heave, his heartbeat quickening under his skin. “Wh-What is going on here?” Wills's voice is frantic, pained even, like he has a wound himself.
Hannibal's voice pulls him temporarily out of his panicked state. “What do you mean, Will? This is your doing.” He leans to the side, revealing the carnage behind him. Cassie Boyle. Her body is pinned to the wall by a large stag, a reversal of how she was found in Minnesota. The animal huffs loudly into the air, violently thrashing its antlers to remove itself from the wall. In doing that, blood and entrails pour out from the wounds in her chest and abdomen. Blood flows down her body, coating everything in its path in a deep crimson.
Will’s Adam's apple bobs at the scene, he watches in horror and twisted interest as Hannibal rises from his chair. With an all too casual stride over to her body, he leans down to her ear, whispering something inaudible to Will. Things begin to fall apart as she raises her head, a moment of silence envelops the room before she starts to scream manically. Will's hands grip the armrests, and he screws his eyes shut, whispering the saying Hannibal had taught him to try and ground himself back to reality.
Things only get worse the moment his eyes open again. Cassie's body has vanished, but the gruesome visuals around him fail to disappear. Hannibal stands in front of him, a strong hand comes to his chin, pulling his head up to meet his eyes. Will shudders as the two make eye contact. “Doctor, please help me. I-I don’t know what's real anymore.” Wills's voice breaks as the words escape his mouth. Despite his best attempts to look unaffected by the horrors around him, a petrified expression is painted across his face.
“I am real. I can assure you, Will. Let me be your anchor.” Hannibal whispers, his grip tightening around his chin. He slots a leg between Wills, leaning down dangerously close to his face. Having a better look now at the other man, Will sees black voids in the place of his eyes. The smug smile has been replaced by an eager grin. Will feels chills run up his spine as he tries to remove himself from Hannibal's hold. His grip does not loosen he drags his hand back to Wills's throat. Thick fingers squeezing the fragile windpipe under Wills's skin. Will makes a strained noise, unable to escape the iron grip of Hannibal.
He has never seen him in this light. His form is almost demonic at this point, the extent of possessiveness making Wills's stomach clench. While Hannibal had seemed like an eccentric European with odd habits, he didn’t come across to Will as dangerous. But maybe that was just blissful ignorance, maybe it was his mind trying to deny the blatant truth. How easy it must be to hide suspicious behavior behind an eccentric mask. That was familiar to Will, he hid himself behind a mask of introvertedness.
With a blink, Hannibal disappears, in fact, the office around him is gone. Now the two stood in a cathedral, a skeleton engraved into the tile beneath him. Hannibal stands a few feet away, lighting a candle on the altar. The blood is gone, Will looks down to see himself wearing an expensive suit. A contrasting one to what Hannibal was wearing. Will tries to call out but the words are stuck in his throat. It felt like Hannibal's strong hand was still wrapped around his throat.
“We could triumph like no other, my dear. Why do you deny what is so clearly there?” Hannibal doesn’t turn around to speak directly to Will, as if he was never even meant to hear those words. Will is frozen, an observer in his own body, he tries to fight it, take back his autonomy but his limbs are glued in place. As Hannibal turns around his skin turns to a deep black, his limbs extending and antlers shooting out of his head. Will tries to calm himself again, shutting his eyes and repeating sayings in his head. Without needing to open his eyes again, he feels the world move around him, Hannibal's husky voice piercing right next to his ears.
“This is what you want. No matter how much you push me away, I have already sunk my roots into every fiber of your person.” Hot breath hits his ear, making him shudder involuntarily. “You are mine. Do not forget that.” Warm hands slink around his waist, spanning over his chest and groin. Will lets a moan escape his lips, cursing himself in his mind for the arousal stirring in his gut. As if his body was unthawing, he turned his head ever so slightly back. His cheek brushes against Hannibals, who quickly turns his head in to sink his teeth into Will's neck.
“Fuck!! Dr. Lecter, what are you doing?” Will says shakily, feeling a hand slink below his waistband. He tries to fight against his hold, only to feel his skin begin to peel back. Finally being able to escape his grasp, he looks back to see Hannibal pull the skin from his throat behind his teeth. He chews slowly as if savoring the taste. Will raises a hand to his neck, black blood pouring from his wound. Before he can do anything else, Hannibal lunges forward to tackle Will to the floor.
Hannibal pins Will to the ground, peering down at him with an indescribable expression before taking more bites out of his throat. There is no pain, only pleasure, which Will tries to swallow down his throat. When Hannibal rises from his place, Will watches as his flesh goes down his throat. Their breaths mingle as Hannibal stares down at him, blood dripping down his chin, droplets falling to hit Will's face.
With a quick glance away, Hannibal disappears. He finds himself in his home again, kneeling on the floor, carnage surrounding him. A trail of blood leads him to his door, which he opens to an appalling scene. Hannibal is strung up on a big tree in his front yard. His ribcage is exposed as blood soaks into the bark of the tree. A thick red organ sits in the snow beneath the tree. Will walks up to the man, finally seeing what lies in front of him. His heart, beating furiously, melting the snow around it. When he peers back up to meet his eyes, the other man is still alive. His eyes show only adoration, a sick smile playing at his lips. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will.” Hannibal chokes out, blood spraying out of his mouth against his face.
Will looks down, taking a shocked step back and dropping a bloody knife onto the snow. He shakes his head and holds it in his hands. He grips his curls with a tight force, enough to cause strain against his scalp. He drops to the snow, trying to clean his blood-covered arms with the white layer of earth beneath him.
This is when he shoots up out of bed. The mattress around him is soaked in a thick layer of sweat. He looks around, no gruesome illusions in his sight. He pants into his hands before being shocked by a twitch of a certain body part below him. A tent has risen in the thin layer of sheets that he covered himself in. “What the fuck…” Will says helplessly, pulling himself out of bed. His pack sits around him, some asleep with each other, others nervously sniffing at Wills's soaked clothes.
He strips out of his soiled clothes, pulling a fresh pair of boxers over his legs. In the bathroom, he splashes cold water over his face. He takes a few moments to look at himself in the mirror. Beads of sweat cling to his curls and thick bags pull his eyes down. He grabbed his phone, it was barely 5 am at this point. That didn’t matter to him as he clicked on Hannibal's contact and brought it to his ear.
“Will? Is everything okay? It is not common to see you call on days we don’t have appointments.” Hannibal's voice is laced with concern, Will sighs into the mic as he brushes a hand through his soaked hair.
“I just need to talk. Things haven’t been right recently.” Will's breath is hot against the line, still reeling from the madness he just experienced. They made plans to meet at 7 today, Will apologizing for having to reschedule. Hannibal insisted there was no problem, saying he was glad to know that Will would reach out if he needed it.
Will takes a moment to tidy his mess of a bed, gathering damp sheets and hauling them into his washer. He heads to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. As water cascades over his body, he takes a deep inhale of the hot steam of the shower. He feels his cock twitch below him, looking down to find himself still half-hard from the events of his dream. He lets his forehead fall onto the shower wall. Will cringed at himself, feeling sick from being turned on by such a depraved dream. But, he had to take care of it. Reaching down with nimble fingers, he wraps a hand around himself. Flashes of Hannibal's face, his hands searching his body, his teeth digging into his flesh haunt his mind. Arousal and disgust churn in his stomach as he continues pumping his hand. He finishes after seeing the image of his own flesh traveling down Hannibal's throat.
Once he is done with his shower, he chastises himself in the mirror. Not only for thinking of Hannibal in such an inappropriate way but also just how turned on he truly was from the depravity of his actions. He checks the time and hurries into a casual outfit. A worn pair of jeans and a teal flannel shirt, and in his rush he fumbles with the buttons.
Quickly feeding his dogs, he rushes out the door to start the long drive to Baltimore. During his ride, he rolls down the window to let the cold winter air brush away his scattered thoughts. It wasn’t right to have such indecent thoughts about his therapist if their relationship could even be called that anymore. Will shakes the thoughts away and refocuses on the winding road ahead of him.
The long drive finally comes to an end as he sees Hannibal's office appear in the distance. He lets an exasperated exhale leave his mouth as he strolls into the office. Deja vu fills his mind as he stares down the hardwood door he only saw a few hours ago. Will pushes through the door again, Hannibal whips his head around to meet Will. “Ah, Will. Please, have a seat.” Hannibal's thick voice lulls through his ears, just as it did before.
Will's eyes widen as he walks towards his seat, seeing Hannibal pouring himself a glass of wine. However this time the liquid flowed normally into the glass, and instead of two he only had one for himself. For a moment, Will was frozen again, he raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed circles into one of them. He pinches at the skin between his eyes, trying to reassure himself that he is awake.
“Will? Are you alright? Your mind is elsewhere.” Hannibal cocks his head at the other man, taking his seat in the chair across from him. Wills's eyes narrow as takes in the scene, but he shakes his head again and goes to take his seat across from Hannibal.
“I have been having nightmares again. I actually called you because of one, it was…vivid.” Wills's voice trails off at the end, still being able to recall every moment of his dream. He looks up to meet the other's eyes, finding studying is peeling back the layers of his mind.
“Dreams often speak to the hidden desires of our subconscious. Tell me what plagued your mind.” Hannibal brings the glass up to his lips, taking a sniff of his drink before drinking down a small swig. Will messes with his glasses, trying to play off an obvious anxious tic as something casual.
“I was here. You were here. Cassie Boyles's body was splayed out on your walls, you said something to her and she lost it. Then it all changed, we were in a church and you attacked me.” Will tries to keep his voice steady, not betray it with his obvious vulnerability. “Then I was home, and I had killed you. Tore your heart directly from your body.” Will finishes, opting not to disclose certain elements of his dream.
It was as though Hannibal had seen right through his attempts to seem casual. “I can promise you, Will, I am real. But as I said our dreams may show our true desires. What do you desire?” Hannibal's tongue skates across his top lip, lapping up a drop of wine. Will swallows hard and looks away, closing his eyes against the morning light that poured through the gaps in the curtains. Will didn’t answer for some time, anxiety scrambling his train of thought. Turning his head back to face Hannibal, he completely misses what he says to him.
“Huh? Sorry Doctor, I didn't catch that.” Will unfolds his legs and leans forward to lean against his knees. He retains his attention on Hannibal, he was the one who said he needed this. Although he is immediately pulled right back into a state of confusion as Hannibal begins.
“Why do you deny your desires? I can be your anchor, all you need to do is say the words.” Hannibal says with a steady voice trying to keep Will in the moment. He rises from his seat and walks around his chair, letting a firm hand grip his shoulder. A grounding action.
“I don’t desire you to attack me. I don’t want to kill you.” Wills's voice wavers, it was true but there was a hint of doubt beneath his words. Hannibal smiles above him, an expression he desires to keep hidden from Will. But that doesn’t stop him from noticing the small upturn of his lips.
The rest of their unstructured session flies by, Will struggles to stay present. His mind is still stuck on the similarities to his dream, he wonders if he may still be asleep. But soon Hannibal checks his schedule, informing Will of a client he is meant to see soon.
Hannibal sees him to the door, and as Will goes to grab the doorknob he feels a force pull him back. A hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him back. Will looks back to see Hannibal, his eyes clouded and dark. “All I want for you Will is to show you that you do not have to hide behind a mask. We do not live unless we live our truest selves.” His voice is firm, and commanding. Will's face flushes at the hint of demand behind his words. He gently pulls his wrist away from Hannibal's grip, who releases him with ease.
“Of course, Doctor. I appreciate you doing this.” Will tries to flash a smile at him, though it looks particularly pained as turns back to the door. On the way back to his car, his chest thrums. Hannibal's body language spoke to a certain excitement hidden under his inscrutable expression. This wouldn’t end well, Will knows. He just doesn’t know how deep he will fall.