Hannigram Oneshots

●The Murder Family(Fluff)●

There's no rhyme or reason or good plot to this I just wanted cute Hannigram/murder family moments. 

Content. Happy. Satisfied.

Will could feel the gentle strain in his mouth, muscles tugged up in a soft smile. Wrapped within sweat-stained silk sheets and the afterglow of sex, he couldn't help but smile. The one and only Hannibal Lecter, or as Will knew the Chesapeake Ripper, had his arms wrapped around the younger's waist.

This had been going on for a little over a month now. Will wasn't sure if this was an affair or a relationship but either way he loved every part of it. He had yet to tell Jack he was tucked within his unofficial psychiatrist's bed two to three times a week, and he had absolutely no excuse for the painfully obvious marks Hannibal loved to pepper his skin with. Even Alana didn't know, not outwardly saying anything but giving him suspicious looks.

A week or so into their relationship, Will put the pieces together. A specific pun from Hannibal set off a realization. And for some reason, instead of freaking out and hating him, he laughed. He chuckled and shook his head, all of the stupid puns Hannibal had made finally making sense. Even after that realization, he hadn't told a soul. Not Alana, not Jack, not even Hannibal.

"What's on your mind, il mio amore?" Hannibal muttered against the back of his neck. He felt a small kiss being placed on one of his spinal columns, silently urging him to reveal his thoughts.

"Puns are the lowest form of comedy. I hope you know that." Will responded, grinning playfully toward the wall. The loving nuzzles against his neck halted, Hannibal seeming to mull over the words.

"I'm not sure what you may be referring to, Will." The doctor responded, his grip tightening around the other. He seemed to be restricting his movement, preventing him from running off if something went wrong.

"Oh please. Don't play oblivious with me. I know, Hannibal." Will gave a verbal scoff and a roll of his eyes. Despite the tight grip around his hips, he managed to roll around and face the other. "You're the Ripper. And your puns are awful."

Hannibal's expression and eyes remained rather blank, seeming nearly taken aback with the sudden announcement. Despite Will knowing, his lover didn't seem bothered. In fact, he seemed quite the opposite. He wasn't upset or hurt or betrayed; the only disdain he held was for the jokes he made.

"How long have you known?" He finally inquired. Even as Hannibal kept him caged within his arms and could easily harm him within seconds, Will didn't seem scared or worried.

"Mmm... a month? Maybe more?" The profiler gave an indifferent shrug, tucking his head into the crook of the other's neck. Laying in the arms of a killer, he allowed himself to relax.

"Have you told Jack Crawford?"

Will sneered once again, a gentle thunk sounding when he hit the older's chest. He seemed almost offended by the suggestion, taking out that annoyance with a light hit.

"No you idiot. First, he wouldn't believe me. Second, he'd most certainly have told you about my crazy notions and pushed you for information about my sanity." He spoke against the other's throat, refusing to untangle himself from the other to minimize the mumbling.

"There's more than just the worries Jack would have about your mental state." Hannibal slowly began to loosen his grip. His gaze landed on the nightstand, rather certain there was something of use if things got bad. The last thing he wanted to do was kill Will, but if the other posed a threat he would. From the first words, Hannibal had been pleasantly surprised, but still skeptical.