Chapter Text
October, 2020
In the velvet hush of late October in Baltimore, where the air wove a crisp tapestry of whispering leaves and the damp, loamy scent of rain-soaked earth, the Lecter home stood as an unshakable bastion of warmth and shadowed opulence. The mansion, its gables thrusting into the twilight like the spires of a gothic cathedral, its mullioned windows veiled in mist from the evening’s chill, glowed with the amber radiance of antique lamps, their light pooling like liquid gold on the polished stone steps. Inside, the world folded into a sanctuary of profound stillness, where a fire crackled in the living room’s hearth, its flames weaving a hypnotic ballet of shadows across Persian rugs dyed in the deep crimsons of spilled wine and the golds of fading empires. The air carried the lingering sweetness of spiced cider, laced with cinnamon and clove, entwined with the resinous whisper of sandalwood incense, a fragrance that curled around the soul like a velvet shroud, beckoning surrender to the intimacy of this sacred space. Outside, the wind wailed through the skeletal branches of ancient oaks, their gnarled limbs clawing at the starless sky like specters of forgotten sins, but within these walls, time unraveled into a languid eternity, where the heart could breathe in the embrace of a home built from the wreckage of their blood-soaked past.
Will emerged from the bathroom, a figure of raw, unguarded beauty, his damp curls tousled and glistening like waves caught in a storm’s moonlight, each strand a dark ribbon refracting the soft glow of the hallway’s sconces. He rubbed a plush towel through them with slow, deliberate strokes, the fabric drinking in the last defiant droplets from his shower, leaving his skin flushed with a warmth that spoke of rebirth, of washing away the day’s weight, the empath’s curse that clung to him like damp fog. Clad in a white T-shirt that molded to the lean contours of his frame, its cotton soft as a lover’s murmured vow, and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the shadowed dip where muscle met bone, he padded barefoot down the polished hardwood hallway. The cool floorboards sighed beneath his steps, their faint creaks a rhythmic echo of his steady heartbeat, each sound grounding him in this fleeting moment of domestic sanctity. His bare feet left ghostly prints on the wood, ephemeral as whispers, tethering him to a peace that felt like a fragile miracle, where the crimson echoes of their hunts and the jagged scars of their fall dissolved into the quiet radiance of belonging.
He sought Hannibal in the library, that hallowed temple of intellect and veiled desire, where towering bookshelves stood as silent sentinels, their shelves heavy with leather-bound tomes that whispered of philosophy’s cold truths, art’s fevered dreams, and the macabre beauty of human darkness. The room thrummed with a subtle, almost sentient pulse: candlelight flickered on the mahogany desk, casting golden halos that danced like will-o’-wisps; the faint rustle of pages from an open volume stirred the air, as if the words themselves breathed secrets; and the rich scent of aged parchment mingled with Hannibal’s cologne, a heady elixir of bergamot, musk, and something darker, like the iron tang of blood spilled in reverence. It was a scent that drew Will inexorably, a moth to the devouring flame of their shared destiny, a pull as ancient as the crimson oceans they’d drowned in together.
Hannibal stood by the desk, a vision of refined, almost otherworldly poise, his deep red shirt, silk-smooth and the color of aged Burgundy, evoking the slow spill of a vein opened with surgical care, tucked into gray trousers that clung to his form with tailored precision, accentuating the powerful lines of his thighs and the subtle curve of his hips. A matching gray vest, its herringbone pattern catching the candlelight like silver threads woven into dusk, broadened his shoulders, a testament to the strength that had once carved flesh with a butcher’s grace and now cradled their shared life with equal devotion. He was perusing a sketchbook, his elegant fingers tracing the contours of a charcoal drawing, Will’s face, captured in a moment of stormy introspection, the lines blurring devotion and obsession, a portrait of the man who had become his teacup, shattered and reformed. His focus broke only when he sensed Will’s approach, that magnetic tether that had bound them across lifetimes, pulling them back from the abyss.
Will slipped behind him, silent as a shadow merging with its source, his arms encircling Hannibal’s waist in an embrace that spoke of possession, surrender, and a love that burned through time itself. His chest pressed flush against Hannibal’s back, the heat of his body seeping through silk and cotton, a living pulse that thrummed with the memory of their fall, plummeting into a crimson sea, hands clasped, souls entwined. Will’s lips found the curve of Hannibal’s neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin, each one a vow etched in the faint salt of his pulse, laced with the primal tang of their shared hunger. His breath ghosted over Hannibal’s ear, warm and ragged, carrying the weight of unspoken desires that echoed the storms they had survived, rain-soaked reunions, blood-slicked hunts, and nights where their bodies became altars to their mutual worship. A shiver rippled through Hannibal, subtle yet profound, his body yielding to the touch as if it were a prayer answered, a tremor that spoke of the god-like restraint he wielded, now softened by love.
Hannibal’s hand rose to cover Will’s, his fingers intertwining with those adorned by rings, etched silver and diamond, forged in the fires of their vows, glinting like stars in the light. He lifted Will’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles with a reverence that bordered on worship, each press a sacrament renewing the bond that had defied death’s cold grasp. “You are weary, my love,” Hannibal murmured, his voice a low, velvety rumble, rich as the claret they sipped after hunts, vibrating through them like the deep toll of a cathedral bell. “The world weighs heavy on your shoulders, yet you carry it with such grace.”
Will nuzzled into Hannibal’s shoulder, inhaling the scent that anchored him amidst the chaos of his empathy, a blend of musk and memory, grounding him like the earth after a storm. His murmur was muffled against the silk, laced with the sharp edge of frustration yet softened by a devotion as deep as the abyss they’d once plunged into. “This case is bullshit, Hannibal. Jack’s playing games, dangling me like bait when he could solve it himself. He’s oblivious to the wolves at his door.” A dark chuckle escaped him, laced with their private jest, a promise of a feast both literal and metaphorical. “I swear if Bella wasn’t pregnant I would have him for dinner, roasted, maybe, with that rosemary glaze you do so well.” The words were a dance of menace and mirth, their shared language of love and savagery. Will pressed himself closer, his arousal evident, a hardening heat that pulsed against Hannibal’s lower back, insistent as the tide. His hand slid downward with possessive intent, fingers grazing Hannibal’s crotch through the trousers, tracing the growing hardness with deliberate, teasing strokes. The touch was electric, a spark igniting embers, kneading with just enough pressure to draw a soft gasp from Hannibal, a sound that echoed their first reunion, when time had bent and their lips had met in a rain-soaked doorway, rewriting fate. The air thickened with desire, the library’s scholarly calm fracturing under the weight of their intimacy, each breath heavy with the promise of unraveling, redolent of jasmine-scented nights and the metallic tang of blood spilled in passion.
Hannibal’s free hand reached back, fingers splaying over Will’s hip, tracing the curve where sweatpants met skin, evoking memories of moonlit villas in Florence and pyramid shadows in Egypt and endless nights that they shared, where their bodies had merged under star-strewn skies. But he paused, a knowing smile curving his lips, his amber eyes glinting with the wisdom of a man who had orchestrated symphonies of violence and love. “My love, we have an audience.”
A tiny hand tugged at the hem of Will’s sweatpants, small fingers clutching the fabric with the sleepy insistence of a child half-lost in dreams. They turned as one, their gazes softening as they found their four-year-old daughter, Heliya, a vision of innocent radiance in her rumpled pink nightgown dotted with tiny silver stars, glowing faintly in the candlelight like a constellation brought to earth. Her blonde hair was a wild, golden halo, tangled as if spun by mischievous fairies in the dead of night, framing a cherubic face where plump cheeks flushed pink from sleep. Her blue eyes, half-lidded with drowsiness, sparkled with a quiet magic, framed by lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings caught in a breeze. A small button nose twitched above a pouty mouth, parted in a wide yawn that revealed the charming gap where a baby tooth had recently taken its leave, a testament to her fleeting childhood.
“Papa,” she said, her voice a high-pitched melody, sweet as a tinkling bell yet thick with the haze of sleep, “my bunny’s gone missing again. I looked everywhere!” Her tiny fists rubbed at her eyes, smudging the remnants of dreams, and her lower lip trembled in a pout that could melt the hardest heart.
Will’s face softened into a warm, unguarded smile, the day’s weariness dissolving like frost under sunlight as he knelt before her, his knees sinking into the rug. He reached out to tame her unruly curls, his fingers combing gently through the golden chaos, though they sprang back with defiant mischief, drawing a soft chuckle from his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, that bunny’s playing hide-and-seek again, huh? Let’s track down that sneaky fluffball.”
Heliya swayed on her little feet, toes curling against the cool floor as she leaned into Will’s touch, her small body radiating trust. “Papa, I bet Cyrus took it,” she accused, her voice a sleepy whine laced with sibling indignation. “He’s always stealing my stuff! Yesterday, he hid my sparkly crown under his pirate ship, and it got all dusty!”
Will’s chuckle deepened, his eyes crinkling with affection as he scooped her up, her slight weight settling against his chest like a precious treasure. He planted noisy, exaggerated kisses on her soft cheeks, each one eliciting a giggle that bubbled like a mountain stream, bright and uncontainable. “Cyrus, that little scoundrel,” he teased, swaying gently as he carried her down the hall. “We’ll have to interrogate him at breakfast, maybe bribe him with extra pancakes to confess. What do you think, princess? Maple syrup or chocolate chips for the truth?”
Heliya’s giggles grew, her arms wrapping around his neck, clutching her nightgown’s starry fabric. “Chocolate chips, Papa! Cyrus loves ‘em. But he’s tricky, like a fox. He’ll probably say the bunny ran away to join the circus!”
Will laughed, his heart swelling at her vivid imagination, a spark of their shared creativity. “A circus bunny, huh? Bet it’s juggling carrots under the big top. Don’t worry, we’ll bring it back home.” He carried her to her room, a whimsical princess haven bathed in soft pastel hues, where the walls glowed a gentle lavender, adorned with murals of enchanted forests and castles kissed by starry skies. A canopy bed draped in sheer white tulle reigned supreme, its pink comforter embroidered with silver crowns, flanked by cloud-shaped pillows that seemed to float. A wooden toy chest overflowed with stuffed animals, their button eyes glinting in the rainbow glow of a unicorn nightlight, while shelves held fairy tale books and a collection of crystal tiaras that shimmered like captured starlight. A plush rug, embroidered with magical meadow flowers, cushioned their steps, completing the dreamlike sanctuary.
Will laid her down gently, tucking the comforter around her small form, its softness enveloping her like a hug. He leaned over the bed’s edge, fishing beneath the bed to retrieve the bunny doll, a well-loved, floppy-eared plush with faded pink fur, worn from countless nights of cuddles. “Look here, you silly goose,” he said, holding it up triumphantly. “Your bun bun was just napping under the bed, not running off with any circus foxes. Cyrus is probably snoring away, dreaming of pirate ships, not bunny heists.”
Heliya’s eyes sparkled with delight, her little hands clutching the bunny to her chest as she burrowed deeper into the pillows, the unicorn’s glow casting rainbows across her face. “Papa, you’re the best bunny detective!” she declared, her voice bright despite the sleepy slur. “But you were kissing Daddy again, weren’t you? I saw you sneaking smooches in the library, like the prince and the knight in my storybook!”
Will laughed softly, booping her nose with a gentle finger, his cheeks warming at her perceptive mischief. “Oh, you caught us, didn’t you, little spy? Papa and Daddy love kissing because we love each other to the moon and back, just like we love you and Cyrus, our two favorite troublemakers.”
Heliya beamed, her gap-toothed smile radiant as she hugged her bunny tighter. “I love Daddy’s stories best. He makes the dragons sound so real, like they’re flying in my room! Can he tell me one tomorrow about a dragon who steals bunnies and hides them in a cave?”
Will grinned, brushing a curl from her forehead, his touch as tender as a whispered lullaby. “A bunny-stealing dragon? That’s a new one. I’ll tell Daddy to cook up a story so wild it’ll have you dreaming of dragon wings and bunny rescues. Deal?”
“Deal!” she chirped, then yawned again, her lids drooping. “Papa, do you and Daddy kiss like that all the time ‘cause you’re married? Like the king and queen in the castle?”
Will’s heart fluttered, a warmth blooming in his chest at her innocent curiosity, a reminder of the life they’d woven from blood and love. “Yeah, sweetheart, we kiss a lot ‘cause we’re married and crazy about each other. But we save the best kisses for when sneaky princesses are asleep, so you better close those pretty eyes and dream of dragons, okay?”
Heliya nodded, her voice a sleepy whisper as she snuggled deeper, clutching her bunny like a talisman. “Okay, Papa. But if the dragon comes, I’m gonna tell it to give my bunny back… or I’ll get you and Daddy to scare it away.”
Will chuckled, his eyes soft with adoration. “That’s my brave girl. No dragon’s gonna mess with you, not with Papa and Daddy on the case.” He leaned down, pressing a final kiss to her forehead, watching as her breathing evened into the gentle rhythm of sleep, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks.
As Heliya drifted off, Will lingered by her bedside, his heart swelling with a completeness that words could scarcely capture, a profound tapestry of joy woven from the threads of their unlikely family. Despite the shadows of their past, the blood-soaked cliffs, the hunts that still sang in their veins, the crimson oceans where they’d drowned and been reborn, this life was a miracle, each giggle from their children a beacon that outshone the nightmares. Happiness bloomed within him, resilient as a rare flower in a storm-ravaged garden, a testament to the love that had remade them from the ashes of their former selves.
˚˚˚˚˚˚
Hannibal leaned in the doorway, a silent sentinel bathed in the soft glow of the unicorn’s light, his amber eyes gleaming with tender adoration, a god softened by the sight of his family. Will rose, pressing one last kiss to Heliya’s forehead, then crossed to him, their hands brushing like a spark in the dark. “Cyrus is sleeping,” Hannibal murmured, his voice a caress, rich as velvet and laced with the promise of their shared night. “Our little pirate, dreaming of conquests and gummy-worm feasts, no doubt.”
Will’s lips curved into a wry smile, his fingers tightening around Hannibal’s. “That boy’s got your flair for drama and my knack for chaos. We’re in trouble when he teams up with Heliya’s bunny crusades.” He leaned in, capturing Hannibal’s lips in a kiss that was slow and searing, a prelude to the storm awaiting them in their bedroom, a sanctuary where their love would unravel and remake them, as it always had, in the crucible of their eternal bond.
The kiss was deep and unhurried, lips parting to allow tongues to tangle in a slow, sensual dance, tasting of mint from Will’s toothpaste and the faint, metallic tang of their shared hunger, a flavor that lingered from nights of blood and ecstasy. Their mouths moved in perfect sync, a puzzle piece of desire, lips slotting together with the precision of a lock and key, tongues curling and teasing, exploring every curve and ridge as if mapping the contours of their souls. Will’s hands framed Hannibal’s face, fingers tracing the sharp planes of his cheekbones, thumbs brushing the stubble along his jaw, grounding himself in the warmth of Hannibal’s skin, a tether to the man who had remade him in fire and crimson. The kiss built heat gradually, a spark igniting into a flame that licked at their bones, their breaths mingling in soft gasps that echoed the storms they’d survived, rain-soaked reunions, moonlit hunts, and the plunge into a crimson sea where their souls had fused.
Hannibal followed, his amber eyes glinting with a predatory adoration, his hands resting lightly on Will’s hips, fingers digging just enough to promise possession. “My love,” he murmured against Will’s lips, his voice a velvet growl that vibrated through their joined mouths, “you draw me into your orbit, a tide I cannot resist.” The words sent a shiver down Will’s spine, his body responding with a surge of heat, his cock twitching against the confines of his sweatpants, already half-hard from the mere proximity of Hannibal’s body.
They crossed the threshold into their bedroom, a sanctuary of dark mahogany and crimson accents, where the king-sized bed reigned like an altar, draped in silk sheets the color of spilled blood, shimmering under the soft glow of a chandelier that cast fractured light like stars scattered across a midnight sea. The air was thick with the scent of cedar and musk, a primal undercurrent that mingled with the faint echo of their earlier intimacy in the library. Heavy velvet curtains framed the windows, shutting out the world’s chaos, creating a cocoon where only their desires existed, a space where time bent to their will.
Will pushed Hannibal down onto the mattress with a fluid, deliberate motion, his hands firm on Hannibal’s shoulders, guiding him to lie back against the silk. He straddled Hannibal’s hips, their bodies aligning like pieces of a puzzle carved from the same primal stone, Will’s thighs bracketing Hannibal’s, the heat of their skin melding through the thin barriers of fabric. He leaned down, kissing Hannibal fervently, lips crashing together with a hunger that bordered on desperation, tongues delving deeper, chasing the taste of each other, mint and musk, salt and sin. Their breaths mingled in heated gasps, Will’s hands roaming Hannibal’s chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his vest, unfastening them with a slow, teasing precision that belied the fire in his blood. “That little girl will be our death,” Will murmured between kisses,“sneaking up on us like a damn ninja.”
Hannibal smiled against his lips, eyes gleaming with amusement and a desire so raw it could devour worlds. “She is our light, Will, as you are my flame,” he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent a jolt of arousal straight to Will’s core. Will’s fingers worked faster, opening the vest to reveal the red silk shirt beneath, the fabric catching the light like a pool of fresh blood. He frowned playfully, tracing the smooth material with calloused fingertips, lingering on the taut lines of Hannibal’s chest. “Just like his daddy,” Will teased, his voice husky, “always so goddamn put-together, curious, ruining me inside out, darlin’, turning me into a fucking mess every damn time.”
The words sent a visible shiver through Hannibal, his body arching slightly under Will’s touch, a god yielding to his mortal’s worship. Will leaned down, kissing Hannibal’s throat, lips grazing the pulse point where the skin thrummed with life, tasting the faint salt and the heady musk that was uniquely Hannibal. His tongue traced the vein, slow and deliberate, then sucked hard, drawing a low moan from Hannibal’s lips, a sound that vibrated through Will like a struck chord, igniting his nerves. Will’s mouth moved lower, teeth grazing the collarbone, then nipping at the fabric of the shirt, sucking at Hannibal’s nipple through the silk until it hardened under his tongue. He pushed the shirt aside, exposing the planes of Hannibal’s chest, and laved the sensitive peak with slow, wet circles, drawing another moan, deeper this time, as Hannibal’s fingers threaded through Will’s damp curls, gripping just tight enough to sting, anchoring them both in the rising tide of pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you, darlin’?” Will growled, his voice rough with need, lips brushing the hardened nipple as he spoke. “Love it when I worship you, when I take you apart piece by piece.” His hands descended to Hannibal’s belt, unbuckling it with deft, practiced fingers, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss that echoed in the charged air. “I thought we were getting a Mischa,” he said, voice thick with lust, “but we got a Hannibal, sharp-tongued, full of games, just like his daddy, always pushing my buttons.”
Hannibal’s laugh was rich and resonant, a sound that vibrated between them like the toll of a cathedral bell, laced with adoration and hunger. “Don’t lay all the blame at my feet, my love,” he countered, his accent curling around the words like smoke. “Our boy is more untamed than you, Will. Today, he declared my risotto ‘too fancy for pirates’ at lunch, insisting on adding gummy worms to ‘make it adventure-ready.’ I fear he’s inherited your rebellious spirit, that wild empathy turned to glorious chaos.”
Will grinned, shedding his T-shirt in one swift motion, the fabric whispering to the floor, baring his lean, scarred torso, each mark a testament to their shared battles, their love etched in blood and bone. He kicked off his sweatpants, his naked body hovering over Hannibal like a storm cloud, skin flushed with arousal, his cock hard and leaking, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. “Oh, he’s got your dramatics too,” Will shot back, his drawl dripping with heat, “staging toy battles like they’re goddamn operas. But yeah, Cyrus is a handful, just like his papa, always keeping me on my toes, begging to be tamed.”
Hannibal’s eyes darkened, a predatory glint as he rolled them over smoothly, pinning Will beneath him with the weight of his body, their forms aligning in perfect, primal symmetry, two halves of a shattered whole, remade in each other’s image. He kissed Will deeply, tongues clashing with fervent hunger, swallowing Will’s soft whimpers as their mouths moved in a dance of possession, teeth grazing lips, drawing the faintest hint of blood that mingled with their saliva, a sacrament of their shared savagery. Will’s nails raked lightly down Hannibal’s back, tracing the muscles, pulling him closer until their naked forms blurred together, sweat-slick skin sliding, chests heaving in unison, the heat between them building like a storm on the horizon. “Fuck, Hannibal,” Will gasped into the kiss, his voice raw, “you taste like sin, like every damn thing I shouldn’t want but can’t live without.”
Hannibal’s hands roamed, one bracing against the mattress, the other sliding down Will’s side, fingers digging into the curve of his hip, leaving faint red marks that would linger like love bites. “My beautiful Will,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, “you are my sin, my salvation. I will ruin you, remake you, fuck you until you’re nothing but mine.” He reached for the lube on the nightstand, his eyes locked on Will’s, the predatory intensity in his gaze sending a shiver through Will’s core. The cap clicked open, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and Hannibal coated his fingers generously, the slick, wet sound echoing like a promise as he positioned himself between Will’s thighs.
“Spread for me,” Hannibal purred, his voice a velvet command, and Will obeyed, parting his legs wider, exposing himself fully, his cock twitching against his stomach, leaking onto his skin. Hannibal shoved two fingers into Will’s ass without preamble, the stretch immediate and deliberate, a burn that made Will arch off the bed, hips rolling to take them deeper, his body clenching and releasing with impatient need. “Fuck, yes,” Will moaned, his voice breaking, “fill me up, Hannibal, make me feel you everywhere.” Hannibal’s fingers curled inside him, brushing his prostate with ruthless precision, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure-pain through Will’s nerves, his body trembling under the onslaught.
Hannibal kissed along Will’s jawline, nipping at the stubble, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he whispered filthy praises: “Look at you, my love, so eager, so perfect, your body yielding to me like a symphony, every quiver a note of divine surrender.” His lips moved lower, sucking at the hollow of Will’s throat, leaving a bruise that bloomed like a dark flower, then trailing to his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple, biting just hard enough to draw a gasp. Will’s hands roamed Hannibal’s body, fingers tweaking his nipples, tracing the scars that mapped their shared history, each one a story of blood and love, etched in flesh. “Goddamn, Hannibal,” Will panted, his cock throbbing against Hannibal’s thigh, smearing pre-cum in slick trails, “you’re gonna break me, and I’m gonna fucking love every second of it.”
Hannibal didn’t pull his fingers out; instead, he aligned his cock, thick, veined, and pulsing with need, the head glistening with arousal, and shoved in alongside them, the friction raw and unrelenting. Will hissed at the burn, a sharp intake of breath that dissolved into a throaty moan as the fullness overwhelmed him, Hannibal’s length stretching him to the edge of agony and ecstasy, the fingers adding an exquisite pressure that made stars explode behind his eyelids. “Fuck, you definitely gonna sew me back together later,” Will groaned, his voice raw, nails digging into Hannibal’s shoulders, leaving crescent marks.
Their rhythm began slow, Hannibal thrusting deep and measured, his cock sliding in and out with deliberate drags that hit Will’s prostate on every inward stroke, the fingers twisting inside him, amplifying the sensation until Will was writhing, his body a live wire of need. “My love,” Hannibal rasped, his voice thick with desire, “you take me so perfectly, look at you, flushed and fucking desperate, my beautiful canvas of want.” He withdrew his fingers gradually, letting his cock claim the space fully, the slick heat of Will’s body gripping him like a vice, pulling a low growl from his throat.
Will’s legs wrapped around Hannibal’s waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper, the bed creaking under their weight as silk sheets tangled around their limbs, sweat beading on their skin like dew on a battlefield. Hannibal’s hands roamed, one bracing on the mattress, the other stroking Will’s cock in time with his thrusts, thumb circling the sensitive head, smearing pre-cum in slow, torturous circles. “Feel how you clench around me, Will?” Hannibal purred, his voice a dark promise. “You’re made for this, for me, your body sings under my touch, a fucking masterpiece of desire. I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name, until you’re dripping with me, marked inside and out.”
Hannibal sat back on his heels, pulling Will up into his lap, their bodies slotting together like pieces of a primal puzzle, Will’s thighs straddling him, his cock trapped between their sweat-slick torsos. Will sank down onto Hannibal’s cock with a guttural moan, the angle allowing Hannibal to hit deeper, brushing that sweet spot relentlessly, each thrust sending shockwaves through Will’s core. His curls bounced with each movement, damp with sweat, his blue eyes locked on Hannibal’s amber ones, raw need mirrored in their depths. “God, Hannibal,” Will panted, his voice breaking on a moan, “ruin me, make me yours, fuck me until I can’t think straight.”
Hannibal’s hands gripped Will’s hips, fingers bruising as he guided the rhythm, thrusting up to meet him, their bodies moving in a primal dance, skin slapping, wet slicks filling the air with the sounds of their union. “My Darling,” Hannibal growled, leaning forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, then biting, eliciting a sharp cry from Will. “Ride me like the tide you are, wild and fucking unrelenting. You’re divine, my love, a god in flesh, and I’m gonna worship every inch of you.” His tongue laved the abused nipple, then trailed up to Will’s collarbone, sucking another bruise into the skin, marking him as his own.
Will’s impatience surged, his hips grinding harder, his cock rubbing against Hannibal’s abdomen, the friction building toward ecstasy. “Fuck, Hannibal, I’m so close,” he gasped, nails raking down Hannibal’s back, leaving red welts that bled faintly, the pain a spark that fueled their fire. “Keep talking, darlin’, tell me how you’re gonna wreck me, how you’re gonna make me come so hard I see stars.”
Hannibal’s eyes gleamed, his voice a low, filthy growl. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re begging, Will, until your body’s trembling and your cock’s weeping for me. You’re mine, my flame, my eternal tide, and I’m gonna fill you so deep you’ll feel me for days.” He thrust harder, faster, the bed shaking under them, the chandelier’s light fracturing across their sweat-slick bodies like a kaleidoscope of desire. Will’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, his body clenching rhythmically around Hannibal, each thrust pushing him closer to the edge.
“Look at you, untouched and fucking trembling,” Hannibal purred, his hand stroking Will’s cock faster, thumb pressing into the slit, drawing a desperate whimper. “Come for me, Will, show me how I undo you, how I fucking own you.” Will’s nails dug deeper, breaking skin, as waves of pleasure crested, his orgasm ripping through him like lightning, hot spurts painting their stomachs, his body shuddering with the force of it, clenching around Hannibal like a vice, milking him with every pulse.
The intensity pushed Hannibal over the edge; he thrust up one final time, burying himself deep as he came, flooding Will with warmth, his release pulsing in long, searing waves. “Yes, my love, feel me claim you,” Hannibal groaned, his voice raw, their bodies locked in shuddering unity, sweat and cum mingling, their breaths ragged in the aftermath. Will collapsed against him, their foreheads pressed together, lips brushing in soft, reverent kisses, the room filled with the scent of sex and cedar, a testament to their unbreakable bond, a love that burned brighter than any nightmare, forged in blood and reborn in ecstasy.
˚˚˚˚˚˚
In the velvet cocoon of their bedroom, where the crimson silk sheets lay tangled like the aftermath of a storm, the air pulsed with a sacred stillness, heavy with the scent of cedar, musk, and the primal musk of their union. The chandelier above cast fractured light across the mahogany walls, its prisms scattering stars that danced like fireflies caught in a midnight tide, bathing the room in a soft, otherworldly glow. The bed, an altar of love and sacrifice, cradled their bodies, its silk sheets cool against sweat-slick skin, a canvas painted with the evidence of their passion, sweat, cum, and the faint metallic tang of blood where Will’s nails had claimed Hannibal’s flesh.
Hannibal lay on his back, a god reclining in mortal repose, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm as steady as the tides, his amber eyes half-lidded, glowing with a warmth that could melt galaxies. His hair, streaked with silver, fanned across the pillow, a crown of shadows framing his sharp features, softened now by the afterglow of their love. Will rested atop him, his body draped like a living cloak, his cheek pressed against Hannibal’s chest, where the steady thump of his heart sang a hymn that matched Will’s own, a duet of angels, their heartbeats merging into a celestial chorus, weaving a tapestry of peace that felt like a miracle forged from their blood-soaked past. Hannibal’s elegant fingers wove through Will’s damp curls, tracing slow, reverent circles, each caress a vow etched in the quiet, a promise that their love would outlast time itself.
Will tilted his head, his blue eyes, stormy as the seas they’d drowned in, searching Hannibal’s face, drinking in the adoration that radiated from him like sunlight piercing a clouded sky. Hannibal’s gaze was a constellation, each fleck of amber a star mapping their shared eternity, his lips curved in a smile so tender it could unravel empires. Will’s breath caught, his heart swelling with a love so vast it threatened to burst, a supernova of devotion that burned brighter than any nightmare they’d survived.
Will’s voice broke the silence, a murmur soft as a prayer, laced with the raw poetry of his soul. “You are the reason for my being, Hannibal,” he whispered, his words a river flowing from the depths of his heart, each syllable shimmering like moonlight on water. “I never knew I could have this, this life, this moment, this family. What I had with Abigail, with Wally… it was a shadow, a lie spun from longing, but this…” He paused, his hand splaying over Hannibal’s chest, fingers tracing the steady pulse beneath. “This is real, a flame that burns through the ashes of my soul. I would give my soul to have this again and again, to weave this tapestry of us across every lifetime. I will find you, Hannibal, in every crimson ocean, through every shattered star in Saturn’s rings. Please, let me love you, let me pour my love into you like wine into a sacred chalice, let me stand beside you until the cosmos crumble into dust.”
Hannibal’s smile deepened, a crescent moon of adoration, his eyes gleaming with a love that could reshape destinies. He lifted a hand to cup Will’s cheek, his thumb brushing the faint stubble, a touch as gentle as a breeze across a meadow. “I love you,” he said simply, his voice a velvet caress, rich as claret and warm as the hearth that burned in their home.
Will raised a brow, a playful glint sparking in his eyes, his lips curling into a sassy smirk that broke the solemnity like sunlight through storm clouds. “No poetry, huh? Just a plain ol’ ‘I love you’ from Daddy Hannibal?” he teased, his Southern drawl dripping with mischief, his body shifting slightly to prop himself on one elbow, gazing down at Hannibal with mock indignation. “Here I am, spillin’ my soul like some lovesick poet, weaving metaphors about stars and oceans, and you hit me with three little words? C’mon, darlin’, where’s the grand symphony? The Shakespearean sonnet? I know you’ve got a whole library of fancy words up in that big brain of yours.”
Hannibal’s laugh was a low, melodic rumble, a sound that vibrated through their joined bodies, his fingers tightening briefly in Will’s curls, tugging just enough to draw a soft gasp. “My impudent tide,” he purred, his accent curling around the words like smoke, “you demand a symphony when my heart already sings an aria for you alone? Very well.” He shifted, rolling them slightly so they lay side by side, their legs tangled, faces inches apart, breaths mingling like mist over a dawn-lit sea. “You are my eternal flame, Will , a fire that consumes and renews, a beacon that guides me through the labyrinth of existence. Each beat of your heart is a verse in the epic of our love, each breath a stanza that echoes through the halls of eternity. I am yours, in this life and all others, a shadow bound to your light, a god kneeling at the altar of your soul.”
Will’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with delight, the sass undimmed. “Now that’s more like it, you dramatic bastard,” he said, chuckling, his hand sliding down Hannibal’s chest, fingers tracing the scars that mirrored his own, a map of their shared survival. “You can’t just toss out a basic ‘I love you’ and expect me to swoon. I need the full Hannibal Lecter experience, fancy words, metaphors that make my head spin, maybe a sprinkle of that creepy charm for good measure.” He leaned in, nipping at Hannibal’s lower lip, a playful bite that drew a soft growl. “But I gotta admit, hearin’ you say it plain like that… it’s kinda hot. Simple, raw, like you’re layin’ your heart bare for once.”
Hannibal’s eyes glinted with amusement, his hand sliding to Will’s hip, fingers digging into the curve with possessive tenderness. “Creepy charm, you say?” he murmured, his voice a velvet growl, laced with humor. “Shall I compare thee to a fine vintage, then? A claret, bold and complex, with notes of defiance and a finish that lingers on my tongue like sin itself? Or perhaps you prefer a darker metaphor, a feast of forbidden delights, where each taste of you is a sacrament, a communion that binds us beyond death?”
Will laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, his body shaking against Hannibal’s, their skin warm and slick from their earlier fervor. “There it is, the Lecter special, turning me into a damn wine list,” he teased, his drawl thick with affection. “But you know what, darlin’? I’ll take it. You can call me your claret, your feast, whatever gets that poetic tongue of yours waggin’. Just keep lookin’ at me like that, like I’m the only thing in the universe that matters. ‘Cause that’s what you are to me, Hannibal, a goddamn universe, stars and all, and I’m just a fool orbitin’ you, happy to burn up in your gravity.”
Hannibal’s smile softened, his fingers tracing the curve of Will’s jaw, lingering on the faint scar beneath his eye, a relic of their passionate hunting. “You are no fool, my love,” he said, his voice low and fervent, a vow woven into every syllable. “You are the architect of my heart, the tide that reshapes my shores. Your orbit is my salvation, your light the constellation by which I navigate. I would tear down the heavens to keep you beside me, Will, to bask in the warmth of your laughter, the fire of your defiance.”
Will’s cheeks flushed, his sass giving way to a tender vulnerability, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Damn you, Hannibal,” he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion, “you always know how to hit me where it hurts, don’t you? Makin’ me feel like I’m somethin’ holy when I’m just… me. A mess of a man who loves you so much it scares me sometimes.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Hannibal’s lips, slow and reverent, tasting the faint salt of their shared sweat, the lingering mint from earlier. “But I mean it, darlin’. I’d chase you through every lifetime, through every storm, just to hear you say my name like it’s a prayer. You’re my home, Hannibal, you and the kids, this life we’ve got. I don’t care how many oceans we gotta cross to keep it.”
Hannibal’s hand slid to the back of Will’s neck, pulling him closer, their foreheads touching, breaths mingling in the sacred space between them. “And you are my prayer answered, Will,” he whispered, his voice a velvet hymn. “Every lifetime, every ocean, I will find you, love you, build this home with you. Cyrus and Heliya, our little stars, are proof of our miracle, but you, you are the spark that ignited it all. My heart beats for you, my flame, my eternal tide.”
Will chuckled, the sound muffled against Hannibal’s lips, his sass resurfacing like a spark in the dark. “Alright, alright, you’re gettin’ all mushy on me now,” he said, pulling back slightly to flash a grin, his eyes dancing with mischief. “But I’m keepin’ score, Lecter. That’s two prayers and a whole lotta stars to my one measly ocean metaphor. You’re gonna have to teach me some of that fancy talk, or I’m just gonna start quotin’ fishin’ lures and dog treats to keep up.”
Hannibal’s laugh was rich and resonant, a cathedral bell ringing through the quiet room, his hand tightening in Will’s curls, tugging playfully. “Fishing lures and dog treats?” he teased, his eyes glinting with predatory amusement. “A challenge, then. I shall compose an ode to your bait and kibble, my love, a sonnet that will make the heavens weep with envy. But for now…” He leaned in, capturing Will’s lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, a promise sealed in the heat of their mouths, tongues brushing in a slow dance that reignited the embers of their desire.
Will melted into the kiss, his hands roaming Hannibal’s chest, fingers tracing the contours of muscle and scar, grounding himself in the reality of this moment. “You’re impossible,” he murmured against Hannibal’s lips, his voice thick with love and laughter. “But I’m keepin’ you, Hannibal Lecter, you and your damn odes. Just don’t expect me to write one back unless it’s about how you burn the bacon sometimes.”
Hannibal’s eyes widened in mock offense, his hand pressing to his chest as if wounded. “Burn the bacon? Blasphemy, my love. My culinary artistry is flawless, as you well know. Perhaps I shall craft a breakfast symphony tomorrow, with pancakes as the crescendo, to redeem my honor.”
Will grinned, rolling onto his back and pulling Hannibal atop him, their bodies aligning once more, a perfect puzzle of flesh and soul. “Deal, darlin’. But you better throw in some of that fancy coffee you make, the kind that tastes like it’s been blessed by angels. And maybe a story for Heliya about that bunny-stealin’ dragon, ‘cause she’s gonna hold you to it.”
Hannibal settled against him, his weight a comforting anchor, his lips brushing Will’s forehead in a kiss as soft as a whispered vow. “A dragon tale and blessed coffee,” he murmured, his voice a warm caress. “For you, my love, and our little stars, I would conjure entire mythologies, brew elixirs to rival the gods. Sleep now, Will, and dream of our eternity, for I will be here, beside you, always.”
Will’s eyes fluttered closed, his smile lingering as he nestled into Hannibal’s embrace, their heartbeats syncing once more, a rhythm of angels singing, a love that would burn through time itself. “Always, Hannibal,” he whispered, his voice fading into the quiet, a final vow sealed in the sanctuary of their bed, their home, their forever.
˚˚˚˚˚˚
In the golden heart of an October morning in Baltimore, where the first rays of sun pierced the lingering veil of night like shards of amber light, filtering through the kitchen’s lace-curtained windows and casting a warm, ethereal glow across the polished oak table, the Lecter home awoke to a symphony of domestic serenity. The air was alive with the cozy embrace of autumn, carrying the faint, crisp scent of fallen leaves mingling with the rich, inviting aromas wafting from the stove, freshly brewed coffee laced with vanilla, the sizzle of bacon crisping to perfection, and the buttery warmth of pancakes bubbling on the griddle, their edges turning golden like the edges of a dream. Outside, the wind whispered secrets through the ancient oaks, their branches now adorned with the fiery hues of fall, but within these walls, the world felt insulated, a cocoon of familial warmth where the shadows of their past, the crimson oceans, the hunts under moonlit skies, faded into the soft hum of everyday miracles. The kitchen itself was a haven of rustic elegance, with dark wooden cabinets etched with subtle carvings of vines and stags, a marble island gleaming under pendant lights that swayed gently like captured fireflies, and a farmhouse table set with mismatched china that told stories of European markets and impulsive treasures. Fresh flowers, deep red dahlias and golden chrysanthemums, stood in a crystal vase at the center, their petals unfurling like promises of renewal, while the faint tick of a grandfather clock in the hall marked the lazy passage of time, allowing the heart to bask in the quiet joy of togetherness.
Cyrus and Heliya sat at their chairs around the table, little monarchs in their high-backed seats, their small forms dwarfed by the grandeur yet perfectly at home in it. Cyrus, with his blue eyes sparkling like fragments of a stormy sea, mirrors of Will’s own turbulent gaze, and his brown curls tousled in a wild mop that resisted any attempt at order, fidgeted with a spoon, tapping it rhythmically against his empty plate, his four-year-old energy bubbling just beneath the surface like a pot about to boil. He wore a pirate-themed pajama set, complete with a skull and crossbones that seemed to wink in the morning light, a nod to his endless adventures in make-believe. Beside him, Heliya yawned widely, her blonde curls still a chaotic halo from the night before, her pink nightgown dotted with stars that twinkled faintly as she shifted. Her plump cheeks were rosy from sleep, and her blue eyes, wide with the remnants of dreams, fluttered as she rubbed them with tiny fists, her gap-toothed smile emerging like a secret as she waited for breakfast, clutching a small stuffed unicorn that had somehow made its way to the table.
In the adjoining mudroom, Will knelt among their pack of dogs, a motley crew of rescues with wagging tails and eager eyes, their fur a tapestry of blacks, browns, and grays that blended with the autumn palette outside. He portioned out their food with gentle hands, murmuring soft encouragements in his drawl, “Easy there, Winston, don’t gobble it all at once, you’ll get a tummy ache like last time.” The dogs lapped it up gratefully, their bowls clinking against the tile floor, a chorus of contentment that filled the air with the earthy scent of kibble and wet noses. Will rose, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, his bare feet padding back toward the kitchen, drawn by the magnetic pull of Hannibal’s presence and the promise of a new day wrapped in their unbreakable bond.
Hannibal stood at the stove, a figure of effortless grace amid the culinary alchemy, his deep red shirt from the night before now rolled at the sleeves, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms as he flipped pancakes with a practiced flick of the wrist. The sizzle of butter meeting batter filled the air, mingling with the savory pop of eggs frying in a cast-iron skillet, their yolks runny and golden like miniature suns. He hummed a soft Lithuanian lullaby under his breath, the melody weaving through the steam rising from the griddle, a subtle reminder of their castle roots, the notes carrying the weight of ancient forests and forgotten tales. As Will entered, Hannibal glanced over his shoulder, his amber eyes softening with that profound adoration that had once reshaped time itself.
Will approached with a lazy grin, slipping behind Hannibal much as he had the night before, his arms wrapping around his waist in a brief, intimate hold. He pressed a soft kiss to Hannibal’s cheek, lips lingering on the stubble there, tasting the faint salt of morning and the warmth of his skin, a gesture as natural as breathing, a spark that reignited the embers from their nocturnal union. “Mornin’, darlin’,” Will murmured, his voice still husky from sleep and satisfaction, nuzzling briefly before stepping away to set the table, arranging plates and silverware with a casual efficiency. Hannibal’s lips curved into a smile, his free hand reaching back to brush Will’s hip in a fleeting caress, a silent vow renewed in the light of day.
The children perked up at Will’s arrival, Heliya yawning again, her small mouth stretching wide as she leaned her head on the table, her unicorn dangling precariously from one hand. “Papa,” she said, her voice a sleepy chirp laced with curiosity, blinking up at him with those wide blue eyes, “was I in your belly like Aunt Bella? Did I kick a lot?”
The question hung in the air like a sudden burst of sunlight, innocent and unfiltered, and Hannibal let out a genuine giggle, a rare, melodic sound that bubbled from his chest like champagne, his shoulders shaking as he plated the pancakes, stacking them high with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup. He glanced at Will, his eyes twinkling with amusement, the spatula paused mid-air. Will cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a faint pink as he set down a pitcher of orange juice, caught off guard by the directness of her query. “Uh, well, sweetheart,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s a bit more complicated than that…”
But Cyrus, ever the bold one, jumped in before Will could finish, his blue eyes narrowing in sibling exasperation as he crossed his arms over his pirate pajamas. “No, you stupid,” he declared with all the authority of a childhood expert, his brown curls bouncing as he shook his head. “We weren’t in Papa’s belly! We were in a lab, like in Daddy’s stories about magic potions. A lady swallowed us, like tiny seeds, and then she grew us in her tummy, and poof! We came out. That’s why we’re special twins!”
Heliya’s mouth dropped open in wide-eyed curiosity, her gap-toothed grin emerging as she processed his words, clutching her unicorn tighter. “Swallowed us? Like a frog eating flies? Did it tickle, Cyrus? And why not Papa’s belly? He’s big enough!”
Will snorted, trying to stifle a laugh as he poured juice into their glasses, the orange liquid glugging cheerfully. “Hey now, no calling names, you two. And Cyrus, where’d you hear that wild tale? Sounds like one of Daddy’s bedtime adventures got mixed up with science class.”
Hannibal, still chuckling, brought over the plates, setting them down with a flourish, pancakes adorned with whipped cream smiles and berry eyes, bacon arranged like pirate swords. “Our little philosopher has a vivid imagination,” he said, his voice warm as velvet, ruffling Cyrus’s curls. “But yes, my darlings, you were gifts from a very kind lady who helped us become a family. No bellies involved for Papa or Daddy, though if I had carried you, Heliya, you’d have been kicking up a storm, just like your dragon stories.”
Cyrus puffed out his chest, proud of his explanation, but Heliya tilted her head, her blonde curls falling over her eyes. “But Cyrus, if the lady swallowed us, did we taste yucky? Like broccoli? And why didn’t she keep us? Did we give her a tummy ache?”
Cyrus rolled his eyes dramatically, mimicking Will’s exasperated expressions. “Duh, we tasted like candy! That’s why she gave us to Papa and Daddy, they’re the best at sharing sweets. But don’t tell the dragon, or it’ll steal us next!”
Will burst out laughing, settling into his chair beside Hannibal, their knees brushing under the table in a subtle, intimate touch. “You two are gonna drive us crazy with these theories. Eat your pancakes before they turn into pirate ships, or worse, gummy worm monsters.”
Heliya giggled, poking at her pancake’s berry eyes with a fork. “Papa, if I was in a lab, did they put sparkles in me? That’s why I’m a princess, right? And Cyrus got pirate dust!”
Hannibal leaned forward, his amber eyes sparkling with mirth as he cut into his own breakfast, the knife gliding through the fluffy stack. “Indeed, my little star. You have the sparkle of a thousand galaxies, and Cyrus the fire of ancient seas. But remember, the greatest magic is our family, swallowed seeds or not.”
Cyrus, undeterred, gulped down his orange juice, the pulp clinging to his upper lip like a mustache, making Heliya point and giggle. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, then leaned toward Hannibal, switching to Lithuanian with the earnestness of a conspirator, his blue eyes wide. “Tėti, noriu grįžti į pilį. Čia nuobodu.” (Daddy, I want to go back to the castle. Here is boring.)
Heliya, catching the foreign words like a forbidden spell, frowned, her bunny clutched tighter. “What did he say? No fair! I wanna know!”
Hannibal smiled indulgently, responding in Lithuanian first, his voice a soothing melody. “Mes grįšime, kai tavo tėvas pagaus blogus žmones. Kantrybės, mano mažasis piratas.” (We will go back when your father catches the bad people. Patience, my little pirate.) Then, translating for the table, he added in English, “Cyrus misses the castle’s adventures, but I’ve promised we’ll return once Papa wraps up his work with the ‘bad guys.’”
Cyrus frowned, crossing his arms with dramatic flair, brown curls flopping over his forehead. “But Daddy, the castle has ghosts and secret rooms! Here, it’s just boring stuff and no dragons. Heliya, you wouldn’t last a day in the dungeon, you’d cry for your bunny!”
Heliya’s eyes widened, but she puffed up defiantly, her voice a squeaky protest. “No! It’s Halloween soon, and I wanna hunt candy like a real princess knight! Door to door, with my basket, and say ‘trick or treat’ and get chocolates and gummies! And then,” she paused for effect, batting her lashes at Will, “I’m gonna marry Papa! I’ll give him all my delicious candy as a present. I promise, Papa, red ones for you, ‘cause they’re spicy like Cyrus says!”
Will burst into laughter, nearly choking on his coffee, while Hannibal’s giggle returned, a warm cascade that filled the room. “Marry me, huh? What about Daddy? He’s the one who makes the fancy dinners. And Cyrus, you gonna be the ring bearer or the dragon guard?”
Cyrus uncrossed his arms, intrigued despite his frown. “If there’s candy hunting, maybe it’s not so boring. But Heliya, you can’t marry Papa, he’s already married to Daddy! That’s like having two captains on a ship; it’d sink!”
Heliya tilted her head, curiosity sparking again. “Then I’ll marry both! We can have a big castle wedding with dragons and bunnies. Daddy can cook the cake, with lab babies inside!”
Hannibal leaned over, kissing the top of her head, his eyes meeting Will’s across the table in a glance of shared joy. “A wise plan, my princess. But for now, let’s conquer breakfast. Who knows what adventures await in these pancakes?”
˚˚˚˚˚˚
As breakfast unfolded in the golden embrace of their Baltimore kitchen, the room thrummed with a celestial harmony, a symphony of clinking forks, juice glasses shimmering like captured nebulae, and the children’s laughter weaving a melody that danced with Hannibal’s velvet baritone, a chorus of love that resonated like the rings of Saturn orbiting their shared universe. The air was alive with the crisp breath of autumn, the scent of fallen leaves mingling with the rich perfume of vanilla-laced coffee, sizzling bacon, and pancakes blooming golden on the griddle, their edges curling like the delicate arcs of planetary rings. The kitchen, a sanctuary of rustic opulence, glowed under pendant lights that swayed like distant stars, their beams caressing dark wooden cabinets carved with vines and stags, a marble island polished to a lunar sheen, and a farmhouse table adorned with mismatched china, each piece a relic of their wanderings through European markets, now cradling the warmth of this moment. Crimson dahlias and golden chrysanthemums bloomed in a crystal vase, their petals unfurling like promises of eternal renewal, while the faint tick of a grandfather clock in the hall wove time into a languid tapestry, allowing the heart to bask in the radiant orbit of their unity.
Will sat back, his coffee cup a warm anchor in his hands, its steam curling like the mists of a primordial dawn, and let his gaze sweep over this celestial tableau, his heart swelling with a gratitude so vast it could eclipse the sun. This was his cosmos, a family sculpted from the stardust of their blood-soaked past, each member a radiant body orbiting the axis of Hannibal, the dark god who had knelt to become his partner, his love, his home, the gravitational pull that tethered Will’s soul through every lifetime, across every crimson ocean, through every shattered ring of Saturn’s cosmic embrace. Cyrus and Heliya, their little stars, sat as twin constellations at the table, their laughter sparkling like meteors, their blue eyes, mirrors of Will’s stormy seas, glinting with the fire of Hannibal’s intellect. The dogs in the mudroom, their contented snuffles a soft counterpoint, wove their own orbit into this domestic galaxy, their wagging tails stirring the air with the earthy scent of kibble and devotion.
Will’s pendulum swung, not in the cold arc of profiling monsters, but in a radiant orbit of revelation, a supernova of colors bursting behind his eyes, gold for the sunlight spilling through lace curtains, crimson for the blood they’d spilled and shared, blue for the twin gazes of their children, amber for Hannibal’s eyes that held him captive, a starfield of adoration that burned through the voids of his past. He could feel life’s pulse thrumming through him, a cosmic rhythm weaving through the laughter, the warmth of Hannibal’s foot brushing his under the table, the scent of coffee and bacon, the weight of their rings glinting like twin moons forged in the fires of their vows. This was the perfection he had yearned for in the shadowed voids of his solitude, a family that filled every crack in his soul with starlight, a love that burned brighter than any nightmare, its radiance scattering the darkness like comets blazing through a midnight sky.
Will’s vision transcended time, his empath’s gift unfurling like Saturn’s rings, each band a cycle of their eternal love. He saw Heliya, grown and radiant, standing in a cathedral of light, her golden curls cascading beneath their grandmothers tiara, its diamonds sparkling like captured stars. Her wedding dress, a nebula of ivory silk, shimmered as she turned, her gap-toothed childhood smile now a beacon of grace, her blue eyes reflecting the love of her fathers, Hannibal and Will, who stood hand in hand, their hearts swelling as she orbited into her own constellation of joy. Beside her, Cyrus emerged, a mirror of Will’s wild spirit but polished with Hannibal’s crystalline intellect, his brown curls tamed but his stormy eyes blazing with ambition, a young man charting his own course through the cosmos, yet forever tethered to the gravity of their family. Will’s gaze stretched further, to a future where Hannibal, silver-haired and serene, sat in peaceful old age, his amber eyes undimmed, still holding Will’s soul in their orbit, their hands clasped as they watched the stars from a quiet porch, their love a constellation etched in the heavens.
Then, the vision shifted, and Will saw himself young again, waking in the familiar shadows of Wolf Trap, his heart a raw, yearning pulsar, beating with a hunger for Hannibal that burned like a supernova. He could feel the creak of his old bed, the scent of pine and dog fur, the ache of solitude that had once consumed him. But now, in this vision, he rose, his body thrumming with purpose, and hurried to his car, the engine roaring as he sped toward Hannibal’s Baltimore home, the road a ribbon of fate winding through the night. Each mile was a step closer to their beginning, a vow to start their lifetime anew, to weave their love through every ring of Saturn, each cycle a rebirth, each moment a diamond forged in the crucible of their shared destiny.
Will’s heart swelled, a supernova of gratitude, as he looked at Hannibal, their eyes locked in a silent vow, a promise to chase this dream through every cycle, every ring, until their love became a diamond constellation, luminous and eternal, shining through the cosmos of their making.
˚˚˚˚˚˚
The end.