Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me?

Chapter 15

Questions rise up in Hannibal's mind, one after the other in quick flashes of light and sound. When did Will figure it out? Was it in Jack's office, when Hannibal argued that the Ripper couldn't possibly have resurfaced? Was it the first time their fingers touched, and Will had felt the heat in his hands? Was it when Hannibal talked him down after killing Tobias and helped him dispose of the body?

Or, maybe, it was even before all that. From the second Hannibal stepped into his office and parried with him about God and death. Maybe it was when Will called him a King, and he knew the truth in the words as soon as they were spoken.

He wants to ask. He needs to know, too curious to let it slip away. But Will's hands are wide and desperate on his waist, Will's mouth lures him in like they're hooked on a fishing line. His warmth, his scent, the red wine on his tongue, calls to Hannibal, begs him to step closer, whispers 'Here, pretty monster, come out and play'.

Hannibal still has his hand around Will's nape, his other fisted tight in his hair, Will's shoulders trapped and tucked against him as they kiss. Hannibal's heart is beating fast, not quite racing but gearing up for the sprint, his mouth is tender from Will's lips, his ears ringing with every breathless exhale, every soft, needy moan he coaxes out of Will, and his hands -.

Oh, how his hands burn.

Will breaks the kiss with a gasp, his eyes heavy-lidded so that only a slip of gunmetal blue is visible. His lips are tender and pink, darker than the flush that kisses his cheeks and is starting to spread down his neck.

He trembles in Hannibal's arms, a single rowboat tossed on seas that promise a storm.

Hannibal gentles his hand, slides it to the front of Will's neck so that Tobias' string cut and Randall's imprint is completely obscured. Will shivers, lifting his chin. His breathing is unsteady, his eyes glazed, and when he smiles, it shows his teeth.

Hannibal cups his cheek with his other hand, smiles when Will sucks in a breath and turns his face into the touch, nose at Hannibal's thumb. "When did you figure it out?" he asks.

Will sighs. One hand leaves Hannibal's side, curls around his wrist so that Will can kiss his palm. "I'm not sure when the idea first struck," he replies. "But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure. You're a curious man, and you need to know, and learn. You went through my notes, seeking to know what I'd written about you. You accepted offers for my company, despite the fact that any proud man would want to distance himself from me."

He pauses. "You sent Tobias to kill me."

Hannibal blinks, and tilts his head to one side.

Will smiles at him. He doesn't look upset. "I find it hard to believe that he entered my house, passed your room, and didn't wake you. You knew he was there. You wanted to see what would happen."

"A decision I do not regret," Hannibal says.

"Why would you?" Will asks lightly. "If he'd succeeded, I'd be dead, and you wouldn't have to worry about me. Yet I won, and in that moment, became indebted to you."

Hannibal smiles. "Yes," he says softly.

Will's eyes open fully, and he meets Hannibal's gaze. He's steadier, now, still shaking, but not from anything Hannibal would name as fear or anxiety. Rather, he looks at Hannibal like he's hungry. He bites his lower lip, and swallows, and Hannibal's fingers tighten instinctively around his throat.

"There's something I need to tell you," Will murmurs.

"Is this that same subject you wouldn't broach with me before?" Hannibal asks.