Yearn | Hannigram

sweet tooth

Will had made himself sick for days on horror. The man he knew to be a butcher of dozens, maybe hundreds, was in his wet dreams. The Ripper who framed him was mere inches away and Will wanted him closer. He knew, he had always known, that he couldn't be without Hannibal. Not since he dug his prongs into Will's mind and rewired his reality. He couldn't live with him, the beast he tried to trap and shoot. But that was different when Will's tongue knew the taste of righteous blood. It was sweet and metallic and Hannibal savored all delicious delicacies. Will had no reign to his empathy and apparently, neither did Hannibal's seduction. He wanted Will, for what reason- attack dog, experiment, get out of jail free card- but now they both wanted much more. They were far too hungry for any good.

Their session ended at noon. It was 11:58, Baltimore, Maryland, his name was Will Graham. He was inches from Hannibal's face, cheeks bright as a cherry and his legs wobbly under Hannibal's intense gaze. Will swallowed, "Yes. Even the most gruesome serial killers had dedicated families, friends...lovers. Some who never stopped believing they were innocent."

"What about two monsters?" Will prodded.

      Hannibal couldn't quite help himself now, he could smell the confusion-and the arousal- wafting off of Will. What an interesting development, Hannibal couldn't help but wonder what had shifted inside dear Will. Now Lecter was imagining the two of them in a life of sins and delicious pleasure. It was something Hannibal found incredibly arousing. He would find it almost too easy to wisp will away to Italy and allow him all the things he's never had. The art, the music, the food. The freedom.

"Bonnie and Clyde were monsters in love," Will said softly, "but a monstrous love only ends one way."

"In death."

Will was breathing heavily now, unable to distract himself from Hannibal's lips, the way he was looking at Will like he admired a beautifully crafted dinner table. Suddenly the air around them was thick as honey and just as sweet, save for some burning undertone of gasoline.

Hannibal's intuition was never wrong, he trusted his gut over anything else. There was no mistake in the wide and pleading fawn of Will's sky blue eyes. Not a hint of doubt in the way they darted nervously away from Hannibal's dark gaze. The room was a flood of memories; their first meeting, the first time he watched Will eagerly swallow down human flesh, the way Will had cried into Hannibal's arms when his mind began to burn from inside. All of it coming to close here, now.

      When Hannibal grabbed Will's hair, hearing the beautiful whimper he let out, it fueled his confidence in his own instincts.

      Will was in shock, but his veins were buzzing with excitement. He couldn't help but lean into the pain of Hannibal's strong fingers twisting in his curls. His ears were ringing, the room was utterly silent despite for the sounds of their matched breathing. His eyes opened and he saw the predator in front of him with full clarity. And it was beautiful, Hannibal was beautiful.

      Hannibal admired the furrow of the younger man's brow, the slight part of his lips before he met with them aggression, Will immediately buckling beneath him before Hannibal grabbed his hips to help him stay upright.

Will felt like his skin was on fire. Hannibal's cool hands like ice on the exposed strip of skin at his hip, he wanted to melt. He kissed back vigorously, angrily, his eyes shut allowing him to see the beast in front of him but the stir of heat in his stomach wanting him so desperately. He felt ashamed but couldn't help it, Hannibal's teeth nipped slightly and he let out a soft moan. Hannibal pulled away and Will felt like he'd been washed adrift by a current. Floating in empty waters, head spinning and legs numb.

When Hannibal strengthened his grip, he watched for Will's reaction. The heavy pressure made him shiver and lean into the touch, Hannibal couldn't help but smile.

"What are you staring at?" Will said in a slight slur, a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"William," Hannibal brought a hand  to his dark curls , pressing a kiss to the younger man's neck. "How could I not stare at such a beautiful monster?"

His lips met Will's again and he was starting to feel drunk. He'd never felt like this before, Hannibal's hands felt like the many hands of Shivu the destroyer, everywhere at once and pulling Will into the world in which he was God. Will wanted to shock the man who seemed to never be surprised, Will brought his teeth down hard on Hannibal's lip. Sinking into the skin and pulling, drawing globs of hot blood onto Will's tongue.

Hannibal felt a moan be punched out of him, the pain exquisite. The feeling of Will's teeth, his rage, sent shockwaves through his empty bones. He needed to taste Will, he'd been starving for him for so long. Only getting whiffs of his sickening sweetness. He flipped them around and pressed Will against the wall, bringing his mouth to the younger man's neck.

"Hann-"

Before he could say anything, Hannibal's canines were deep in the soft flesh at the crook of his neck, boiling the heat inside him. He felt warm blood dripping down into his chest and as he tried to pull those lips back onto his, he felt the weight of Hannibal's hands on his wrists fade.

      "It'll scar," Will whispered into what felt like an empty room.

"Good. You're mine now, Will."

Will growled, peeling himself off the wall before grabbing Hannibal by the neck, biting his bottom lip and ripping a chunk of flesh out. Will's mark on him where he could never hide it. "Now you're mine."

Hannibal smiled with black and red teeth, holding his swollen lip with equally bloody fingers. "Now I'm yours."

----

When Will got home, He felt deviant, a heathen of morality, but this sin was too sweet. Hannibal tasted like cherry wine and old cigars, his voice in Will's head made it spin like syrupy heroin. His kisses have Will a sugar rush and he was shaking for more. He never had much of a sweet tooth until now.

He felt indulgent, like he was allowing himself to break from his scheduled self destruction. He dug around his bedside table until he found an old pack of Marlboro reds, a few poorly wrapped joints nestled among the cigarettes. He grabbed one of each and walked out onto his porch, watching the sun set across forests and fields as he burnt through the jay, feeling lighter and darker.

He'd felt deprived, starved, so close to the death he felt he'd crossed over while still inhabiting a mortal body. He had to prove his life now, had to give himself what he wanted regardless of what he wished he could be. He'd never be the man he used to be, if he ever was. No, he was Hannibal's now. The tug of war between their power ended at a bloody, sweet stalemate.