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“I would like to resume our therapy.”
The curious tilt of Hannibal’s chin. How present he was when Will kept ahold of his gaze. They pinned each other down with what they offered and wouldn’t let go.
- - - -
Will often imagined killing Hannibal in a variety of thoughtful ways, but as he would imagine them… something never seemed to feel right by the end. It is as if his feeling would not complete itself and just leave him to flounder about. He revisited. The feeling, the thoughts, in hopes of reaching some type of resolution.
Endless scenarios.
Shooting him between the eyes, beating him with a metal bat, pushing him off of a bridge into oncoming traffic…
Cutting his throat as he hung before him like a pig seemed the most full circle. Almost narrative. Even in his fantasies, Hannibal would be watching him. With a cocky smirk of ,”It was always supposed to be you, Will.” No struggle. Easy and compliant.
This would oftentimes be enough to drive Will to replay the scene over again behind his eyes, desperate for something different to happen.
Strangling him with his hands felt the most satisfying. To the extent that he would sometimes lose himself in the thought of it during their sessions together. Seeing Hannibal before him, wearing the same exact smirk that haunted his dreams, made it ever so easy to imagine his hands snaking slowly up Hannibal’s chest. Grasping his neck, and getting firmer and firmer until Hannibal’s face turned red and he gasped for air.
Will felt something animalistic stir within him when he’d imagine this. But, the smirk was still there. Will’s stomach would always drop and his eyes would open to the real Hannibal staring expectantly. Usually, he would humor Will and merely repeat his question. In those moments, Will would wonder why Hannibal would move on. He almost always pushes. Pushes for more and more like a starved animal.
It took many weeks before Hannibal decided it was the time to push.
“Where is it you go, Will?”
Will blinked rapidly, breathing in deeply, and shifted, "I'm here.”
“You aren’t. You fall away into some deep abyss. I noticed this happened often during your encephalitis episodes,” he gave Will a pointed look,” Something tells me that this is not an inflamed brain.”
Will looked away, avoiding Hannibal's eyes, and adjusted his glasses,” It is…something I have picked up since prison.”
“Falling away?”
“Envisioning.”
Hannibal's eyes seemed to sharpen in challenge,” You’ve envisioned plenty before prison. For Jack Crawford.”
“No. No… this is different.”
Hannibal hummed lightly. Letting the moment feel heavier, thicker. It feels as if Will is being circled, hunted. Will has started to feel satisfied by this feeling, as he believed it was a testament to his ability to lure. But, there was something else there. Some other thrill that bubbled low within him that he couldn't quite place.
“How so? What are you envisioning, Will?”
Will allowed the silence this time. Waiting. Eyes climbed upward to meet Hannibal’s. The two of them often end up here. In this moment. Pinning each other down with such an intensity that everything else falls away.
“Killing you,” he replied softly.
Half of that smirk grew upon his lips.
“How would you do it?”
Will took a moment to think about this, "I'm not sure lately.”
Hannibal cocked his head curiously,” Is there a common vision that you came to that no longer feels satisfactory?”
“None of it is… satisfactory.”
The intensity of the feeling of being circled grew.
“Why do you think that is?”
Will fell partially back into his vision. Seeing his hands grip Hannibal's throat.
“I… don’t know.”
“How are you envisioning it, now?”
He hadn’t realized that his eyes fluttered closed, “I envision strangling you. With my hands. It feels… intimate.”
“Using your hands. Like with Randal Tier?”
Will considered Hannibal’s words for a moment. He saw the man with the antlers beneath him in his living room,” I envisioned killing you as I was killing him.”
“That I was him?”
“Yes. And I snapped your neck.”
There is a satisfied lull in the pause that Hannibal takes.
“What am I doing in these daydreams?”
Behind his eyes, Will took hold of his head and snapped his neck as Hannibal simply smirked at him. When Will opened them, Hannibal wore the same one.
“Nothing. Just smiling at me.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
Will stared at Hannibal, the empty frustrated feeling had filled him again, he furrowed his brows.
“Incomplete.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Will festers in an agitated silence for a beat,” I come back to this moment often. My hands around your throat, cutting away your ability to breathe. I feel alive. Ravenous for it. But, I can never watch your life fade from you. My vision ends and repeats before it can happen.”
“Like in a stasis. Suspended in the reality of killing me forever.”
“Yes.”
A silence settled between them again. A predator closing in on its prey. A hook observing its catch.
“Will you humor me in today’s session?”
Will squints, "That's extremely dependent, Dr. Lecter.”
Hannibal stands up, shrugging off his deep red blazer,” Naturally.”
He neatly placed his blazer around the back of his chair and very slowly and purposefully rolled up his beige sleeves.
Will watched him with suspicion,” Why do I get the feeling this will be one of your wildly unorthodox methods.”
Hannibal smiled fondly as he finished cuffing his left arm and stood tall, facing Will, "I would like you to show me your vision, Will.”
Will huffs a little laugh, "Right.”
“I’m serious.”
Will, looking into his eyes, could see just how serious Hannibal was. Will paused, simply observing him. His stature. His consuming energy. And all of a sudden, Will felt hungry. So. Fucking. Hungry.
The lure forgot what it’s trying to catch.
“I… don’t think I'd be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Will weighed his thoughts for a moment, then scoffed, "You don’t think I can. Kill you, I mean.”
“I think we are quite evenly matched. A 50/50 chance.”
Another beat of silence as Hannibal waited patiently.
Slowly, Will got up from his chair. He didn’t bother rolling up sleeves, he just attempted to center himself as the narrowing of the office pulled him into disorientation. He breathed in deeply and attempted to focus on his hands.
“Don’t.”
Will’s attention locked back onto the man in front of him, his deep breaths faltered.
“I want you to stay in this feeling, Will. Don’t crawl out of it. Step forward. Attack me how you would in your fantasies.”
Will listened, allowing the feeling to wash over him, and found that he immediately stumbled towards Hannibal. His fist reeled back, ready for a full swing. As it attempted to connect with Hannibal he found himself swinging at the air.
As Hannibal dodged, composed, and in control, he returned a punch to Will’s side. It connected and he stumbled. Hannibal didn’t let him go far, though and grabbed him by the collar of his flannel, spinning him around and back into Hannibal’s chair. The red blazer fell to the floor.
Hannibal was upon him in a second, light shone behind him in a way that enveloped him in shadow. As he pinned Will into the chair, Hannibal’s fist swung back and drove down into the side of Will’s face. His head flew to the side with a gasp from the force of the impact.
Will’s body started to shake.
This. This. This.
Another punch on the side of his mouth that spilled the first drops of blood. Will laughed as the blood sprayed from the third punch that landed in the same spot. He couldn't help but laugh from the glee and giddiness that courses through his veins.
A dark grin found itself on Hannibal's face. Composure falling away slowly at Will’s laughter. His breath became ragged. "Is this what you wanted?”
He pulled back for another punch, but Will moved his head just in time. His arms shot up, nails hooked just right into the crevices on Hannibal's face. He bore through the pain for a moment, gasping as Will twisted his hands, nails still sunk in. Hannibal grabbed his wrists and pulled them away, strenuously, as Will took some of Hannibal’s flesh with every single nail.
As Hannibal overpowered Will’s arm strength, upon instinct, Will slammed his forehead into Hannibal’s nose. He reared back off of the chair, clutching his nose as blood poured out of it down his chin.
Upon seeing this: Hannibal's disheveled hair, reactionary tears formed in his eyes, painted red lips… Will fell deeper and lost more of himself to that moment.
He launched at Hannibal, tackled him to the floor and straddled him. Will found himself grinning wildly. His panting was almost like little laughs that kept escaping his chest.
Hannibal nearly rolled over to buck Will off, but Will pulled back an unrelenting fist.
As it connects to Hannibal’s mouth, his teeth sliced through the skin on Will’s knuckles. More red.
Will released a sound. Something between a euphoric gasp and growl.
“You love this.”
“Yes.”
He punched his face again and Hannibal took hold of Will’s waist in a crushing grip. He attempted to throw him off, but Will rolled his hips forward so his legs locked firmly onto Hannibal.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
Will shook furiously now, speaking deliriously.
“This,” He punched him again, and Hannibal spat out his blood.
Will’s hands clamped around his throat in desperation. His entire body felt on fire. A starving dog finding its meat. A shoreline receding back into the sea. A key finding its place within the lock.
Quickly, so quickly that it snapped Will out of it, he released his grip on Will.
“No...”
He stopped trying and let Will strangle him.
“No. Stop it.”
But, he doesn’t stop. In fact, Hannibal just smiles.
“Hannibal.”
Hannibal gasped for air as Will’s grip tightened even further, but chose to remain still.
Will released a livid sound. He releases his throat and pulls back, slapping him hard across the face.
“Please, you’re ruining it,” Will’s voice sounded destroyed to his own ears.
“Please. Hannibal, I…” he gasped from everything. The unsatisfactory feeling coming back in full force, his uncontrollably shaking body, his burning muscles…
Hannibal’s voice comes out ragged,” What do you need, Will?”
“Fight back! Why won’t you-”
“Why do you want me to fight back?”
“I need you too.”
“Why?”
An angry, feral noise ripped through his throat,” Y-you’re gone!”
“I’m right here.”
“No… no. It feels like you’re not here,” He slapped him again, with less enthusiasm. With more exhaustion.
“You want me to be with you? I thought you wanted me dead.”
Will hunched over him, raggedly panting. His hand goes to slap him again, but drastically slows down, landing softly on his cheek in a shaking caress. He looked anywhere, but where his hand led him.
“I…”
“You want to kill me.”
“I don’t!”
“You need to kill me.”
“No…”
“Will.”
Quaking and rapidly deteriorating, "This has t-to happen, doesn’t it? This will always… fuck.”
“Will look at me.”
Will focused his attention on Hannibal. Sweat and blood flowed down his cheeks and he looked Hannibal in the eyes.
“You want my active participation. You want to be here, in this moment, with me. And you want me to be here with you. To see you.” Hannibal’s gaze was adoring. Admiring the deep red stain on Will’s lips.
Will sank so close to him as relief flooded his body. Their faces were just inches apart.
“Yes. Please, Hannibal,” a sob wracked his body before he could stop it.
Hannibal waited a moment and observed Will how he was. Who he was, "I see you, Will.”
Will released a laugh and a whimper mixed into one and swam so deep into Hannibal’s loving gaze that he didn't think he would ever return.
“Thank you,” he gasped.
At that moment, he succumbed to the feeling of needing to be together. Formed into one.
And Will’s lips fell into Hannibal’s.
It felt like what was supposed to happen. All of their moments together were a mixture of pleasure and pain and heartbreak and terror. Teetering on the precipice.
Hannibal responded in kind, released a keening sound, and brought his hand up to grip Will’s damp hair firmly.
Will’s teeth bit down around Hannibal’s bottom lip before invading his mouth. He groaned long and low, eyes rolling back briefly at the taste of their blood. He could no longer tell where his blood began and Hannibal’s ended.
Will received a piercing, blinding pain in his thigh. He struggled out a gasp. Hannibal gripped hard into Will’s hair forcing him to look. He had stabbed him with a scalpel and Hannibal twists the blade, eliciting a sudden loud grunt that fell into a deep trembling moan.
Hannibal says breathlessly,” So beautiful, Will.”
Will looked at him through his lashes, struggling, waiting, and still held firmly by Hannibal’s hand.
“How do you feel?” Gripping the scalpel, Hannibal ripped it out of his leg unkindly.
Noises and begging tumbled out of Will’s mouth.
“Tell me how you feel, Will.”
Catching his breath, an expression of disbelief bore itself on his face as tears trailed through the blood around his lips and fell onto Hannibal’s cheeks.
“Complete.”