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Hannibal stepped through the doorway and smelled the air. The distant hint of Will’s ship-on-the-bottle aftershave was so very faint, having been almost completely cleansed from Will’s skin during Will’s time without access to razors in the Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Hannibal almost missed the smell… almost.
Chilton had granted Hannibal unlimited access to the grounds, so security had let Hannibal in quietly and discreetly, and alone, he walked through the building toward the therapy hall. The large open bright space was set up with several stations, each at which a patient was to sit contained within a sturdy metal cage, with a therapist a safe distance away on a threadbare chair.
The walk was cold and long and quiet. Hannibal thought he felt his usual calm, but his heart was beating fast. The nervousness seeped into his consciousness all at once like a shock of icewater coming up through a crack in a frozen lake. He had never before felt that: that when a person laid eyes on him, they were really seeing him; Will would be his first.
Hannibal’s heart fluttered as he came into view of Will; Will, his overgrown tousled curly locks falling gracefully around his face, sat silently, absolutely still, gaze fixed, but eyes dilated. He wore hospital scrubs and soft shoes, and his glasses. Will was clearly dissociating, certainly off fishing in his imagination. Hannibal’s heart felt like the shutters banging open on a house in a storm; though he had always been prepared and calculated in everything in his life, for this, he saw in a flash like lightning, he was not prepared.
At the moment of that lightning flash of realization, Wil returned from his dissociation, pupils contracting as they fixed on Hannibal’s face. Then as they locked eyes, Will, fully present, took in everything that Hannibal was: the Chesapeake Ripper, the Copycat, the puppetmaster shaping the world around him according to his curiosity, the dominant force in his own life. And at this moment, as Will gazed upon Hannibal, Hannibal observed Will’s eyes dilate - did that mean….Will wanted him? The entire floor of Hannibal’s world fell out from under him, and he felt as if he were falling, falling, falling into this new world where he was not fully in control, and he liked it. He was disturbed that he liked it, but it was undeniable and inescapable how much he wanted this lack of control.
Will gazed into his eyes with rage and sober awareness and even… desire. And somewhere in his heightened senses’ awareness, Hannibal realized from the distinct lack of electricity sounds coming from the corner of the room: Chilton’s camera on this particular cage had been disabled.
Breathless, Hannibal approached. Not breaking the gaze, Hannibal paused to stand behind the chair. Will breathed, “I see you clearly.” Hannibal responded, “Yes, you do.” Hannibal paused a moment longer, behind the back of the chair, and then without warning, swept forward fast toward the cage. Will did not flinch.
Hannibal’s face was mere inches from the bars, mere inches from Will’s face. Hannibal felt as if his every breath was loud, and his sensitive hearing hung on every breath of Will’s, which were becoming faster and more jagged. Hannibal broke eye contact, flushed, and shifted his gaze to Will’s lips. Despite having no access to skincare in the Hospital, Will’s lips still looked soft, smooth, beautiful. Even in scrubs, Will was the most beautiful man Hannibal had ever seen. Hannibal thought, he would have to do more sketches later of how he imagined Will naked would look. As Hannibal’s thoughts turned thus, Will suddenly reached through the bars, wrapped a hand around the back of Hannibal’s neck at the base of his skull, pulled Hannibal in, and kissed him - hard. The kiss was primal - raw, Will simply taking what he wanted, what he could get from no one else in the entire world.
As they continued kissing deeply and passionately, Hannibal’s body was pressed to the cage, pulled in as far as he could physically go by Will. Will hooked his other arm through the cage, hooking his entire forearm around Hannibal’s lower back, crushing him against the cage. Hannibal reveled in the sensation. He had never felt this before - needed, desperately and intimately. Will could be sated by no one but him, and he sated by no one but Will.
Hannibal kissed Will so passionately. His primal nature was awakened in a way he had only ever experienced before by killing. He put his thigh through the cage, pressing it against Will’s body between his legs. He reached a hand through the cage and grasped Will’s butt, pulling Will against his body, chest to chest, thigh between Will’s thighs.
Will removed his hand from the back of Hannibal’s head abruptly, instead grasping his throat - with a perfect blood choke. This was something Hannibal had fantasized about but never imagined would ever happen - so ecstatic, he smiled into Will’s face, his chin lifted, and did not struggle but gazed into Will’s face patiently. Just as Hannibal’s eyes started to dim from the blood choke, Will let up, instead grasping Hannibal’s jaw firmly. With his other hand, he reached down to Hannibal’s thighs. Without looking down, Will felt along Hannibal’s thigh, slowly, painfully slowly, to the crease where his legs met his torso, and then ever so lightly ran his fingers along Hannibal’s bulging crotch. Hannibal bucked involuntarily. Hannibal was disturbed by how completely involuntary that movement was; he had no choice; and he found himself somehow ecstatic at this new sensation.
Will continued to grasp Hannibal by his jaw, hard, while rubbing Hannibal’s crotch over his pants, more and more vigorously. Hannibal leaned with all his weight against the cage, willing himself to somehow pass through the cage and into Will’s arms. Alas, the best he could do was to press himself so hard against the cage that he would certainly have bruises.
Just when Hannibal felt he could not take any more without cumming in his pants, Hannibal turned his face and kissed Will’s hand, which was still on his jaw. This caught Will a bit off guard, and he stopped rubbing Hannibal’s crotch. Hannibal took Will’s hand in his, and kissed the back of his hand tenderly and with fervor. Will watched him, rapt.
Hannibal then backed up away from the cage a few inches; it pained him so deeply to draw away from Will, even just a couple inches; he never wanted to draw away again.
Hannibal got down on his knees in front of the cage; reached through the cage and tugged down Will’s scrub pants and disposable hospital underwear; and took a reverent, hungry look at Will’s dick. It was hard, beautiful, flushed at the head, and dripping precum. Hannibal licked and savored the precum. He could taste the diet Will had been eating in his precum; and he resolved to bring Will better food.
He took Will’s dick into his mouth. Because Hannibal had perfect control over his bodily functions, he also had complete control over his gag reflex; and he set straight to taking Will all the way down his throat, holding Will’s ass cheek with one hand, and massaging Will’s prostate through his taint with the other.
Will grasped the cage with both hands, gasping and moaning as Hannibal continued. Hannibal took pride in how well he could give head, and he felt like all his skill had been acquired with the ultimate point of being in this moment. This moment felt like the culmination of his entire life’s work.
Hannibal observed Will shaking and moaning louder and louder; Will came in Hannibal’s mouth with a cry, and Hannibal massaged Will’s prostate through his climax.
Hannibal looked up at Will from his kneeling position; what a beautiful, beautiful man. Will’s hair still framed his face in ringlets, just like a Renaissance painting.
Will looked down at him, and smiled. Hannibal melted. Will pulled back up his pants and helped Hannibal back to his feet, as much as he could through the bars; and he kissed Hannibal, deeply, but tenderly. Hannibal kissed Will’s neck, turning his face to rest his head on Will’s shoulder. Will held him. Hannibal could have stayed there forever, for eternity, for the rest of his life.
Eventually, Will glanced up; they heard footsteps. Hannibal quickly backed away from the cage, sitting down on the chair with his arms over his lap to hide his tented pants. The orderly came in, scoped out the room, and then left again.
Hannibal said, “I suppose I should be going.” “Yes, that might be best.”
They smiled at each other. In the previously cold room, there was now a warmth permeating the space. Will’s faint aftershave smell now lingered on Hannibal’s own face; and he simultaneously detested and adored that.
Hannibal turned and walked back out of the room, leaving Will in the cage, a butterfly in a chrysalis. Hannibal knew neither one of them would ever be the same.