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Will didn’t let Hannibal touch him.
Not like he knew the man wanted. The fact he had never considered himself gay or something similar wasn’t the issue here, they… transcended that. Will didn’t need a simple label to describe something he knew so intimately at this point. Who would he even describe it to? Hannibal? There’d be no point, explaining something they both already knew perfectly. To describe it would be to render it to a simple word, and Will wasn’t about to do that.
No, it… wasn’t mistrust, either. Hannibal had given up his whole life just so Will would know where he was, he’d proven his loyalty, put himself on the same level as one of Will’s dogs just so he could see how eagerly the man would bark, roll over, whatever else it was that Hannibal could do in a dog metaphor. Even though the dog knew the master wasn’t likely to stay away forever, even though ultimately it was still kind of a manipulation tactic… well they wouldn’t exactly be the Murder Husbands without a bit of manipulation.
To put it as simply as Will could, he wanted to spite Hannibal Lecter. He knew his touch would be pleasant, delicious even, Hannibal would make sure of it, never once in his time of knowing Will, has he settled for a mediocre meal. But Will liked the power he got from this. From sleeping six inches away from Hannibal, from eating his food, from finally letting the man kiss his cheek after two months of begging... only to keep denying him. To push his hand away if it drifted too close in the night, or give him a disappointed look if Hannibal actually slipped up and showed some genuine desire.
God Hannibal really was a dog. Pathetic and cowering at his heel.
When they finally have sex, or even something close— no, if they have sex, it would be Will’s deliberate choice. He’d be in control, say when it started and when it ended. Thinking about it when he was alone (so Hannibal didn’t see a more genuine expression of wanting on his face) he figured maybe he would want to give up a little bit of control at some point, see how he liked it, but that would have to be a long ways down the road. Hannibal was a fool if he thought Will wasn’t going to milk this power imbalance as long as he could as payback for everything.
Well, it was a bit past payback in his opinion, Hannibal had hurt him, tortured him, but… well plenty of good things came with that in the end. If he was trying to be fair, they were even by now, Hannibal had put in noticeable efforts to put them on the same level.
Just at this point, Will thought he should get some well deserved sadism, and knew Hannibal would never even think of disagreeing, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy the result of that.
That didn’t stop Hannibal from romanticizing the everliving fuck out of every action. Will had never cared to imagine what a horny Hannibal Lecter looked like, but he got to see it first hand anyway. That being said, he was no different than he’d ever been, except for the fact he kept calling things that were decidedly not, “making love.” It did raise the question of how long he’d actually been wanting to climb Will like a tree.
With the amount of things Hannibal was apparently equating to sex, he was pretty sure he could edge the man like this for the rest of their relationship, until it inevitably ended with one of them killed the other. Which it did occur to him that in that situation, it would probably be Hannibal killing and eating him like a female mantis after mating. He could imagine Hannibal Lecter mating like a mantis, that’d be interesting. Although from his understanding it was mostly the starving females who did that, so… maybe it was better not to push him quite that far.
It was the third time this week Hannibal had looked over to him, and said, “it feels intimate, doesn’t it Will?” with the kind of look that said if he properly agreed, it would be proving something. What exactly that was? It probably didn’t matter. The thing was they were also standing over an only partially dead woman, and now wasn’t really the time to be cheekily trying to get Will to admit he was actually wanted Hannibal to fuck him.
“It sure feels like something,” he grumbled, combing his hair back with shaking fingers, other hand on the bullet wound in his stomach. He didn’t get how Hannibal was always so composed during this. He’d spent so long imagining a grinning maniac drunk off the power murder allowed him, before he ever got a good enough read on Hannibal to understand that wasn’t really the point. But even then the adrenaline and excitement always got to Will, leaving him shaking and gasping every time, and it was incredible to know Hannibal was just simply above that when it came to killing. He was a confident artist after all.
The woman on the ground in front of him groaned, slowly regaining conciseness and trying to reach out to something. For a weapon, for help maybe. But whatever she was trying to find, it wasn’t there. Hannibal had kicked her pistol away as soon as it had been dropped, there was nothing left to help her.
“Any plans for dinner tonight dearest?” Will said the pet name like it was to mock him. Which in complete fairness it was. Hannibal didn’t get terms of endearment, he got signs Will was enjoying himself, and usually that meant taking out a little sliver of his cruelty on Hannibal and trying to demean him, as a little treat. Hannibal got to be called dearest, and whatever tone it was in, he would take that any day.
“I was thinking maybe you could pick tonight,” he smiled calmly, that genuine slow upturn of the lips Will had only really seen when they were alone together. “I’m still happy to cook tonight, whatever you choose.”
Perfect.
Will took his time dismantling the woman, taking only a meal or two worth of meat, before posing her in Will’s design. Tomorrow her wife would come home to find her like this, and she will never know who did it.
***
“So what have you decided on?” Hannibal asked when they got back to their current dwelling, a secluded cabin, fancy and updated enough Hannibal could enjoy himself properly, but still isolated in a way that made Will comfortable. He’d waited on asking, convinced for whatever reason that Will would need time to mull over his choice, which he didn’t.
“I’d like a cheeseburger please, Hannibal” he said gently, pulling at his name like the leash and collar it was.
“As you wish, I’ve got some lovely home baked rolls still, and that cheese we brought back from France-” his accent lilted as he went into explaining how he was deciding to prepare it, before Will cut him off.
“No, Hannibal, a proper burger please. Just like I’d get in a diner back home.”
Hannibal looked up from where he was trimming the fat from the meat, deadly sharp knife freezing in his hands. There wasn’t really a change in his expression, but Will could see through the crack in the person suit, and he couldn’t help a tiny smile creeping up his face.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to make it for me?” He turned up those puppy eyes to eleven, even owners needed to stoop down to the level of their pets from time to time.
“Well, we have all these quality ingredients, it seems a shame to waste them on something we won’t even enjoy,” he raised an eyebrow.
“Oh but I’ll enjoy it,” he leaned his elbows on the counter, watching Hannibal’s eyes flicker over him, biting down a refusal.
“You’re playing with me Will, you know I don’t appreciate that,” he said firmly, like he was trying to give a scolding. And failing of course.
“And I thought you didn’t like lying to your partner? ”
“How am I lying?” He puzzled.
“If you didn’t appreciate it, I’d be dead,” he pointed it out. “Eat the rude, that’s what you always say, and I’m more rude than our burger ever was,” he motioned to the meat on the cutting board, “So of course you appreciate it. You don’t keep around things you don’t enjoy,” he knew he had Hannibal with that one.
“I don’t appreciate you asking me to make you diner food Will,” he reiterated.
“And yet I finished the kill, chose the cuts, posed her body… shouldn’t I get to choose how the spoils are used? After all you offered me a dinner of my choice. I wasn’t aware my choice had to fit your strict standards,” he furrowed his brow, still keeping with that slightly forlorn look.
“Do I get anything in return?” He prodded, “if I’m not killing you I think I deserve a little bit reimbursement for your rudeness.”
Will thought a moment, “I’ll let you dig the bullet out of me,” he offered, smirking, his voice getting just a little raspy to tease the man. To be honest it was fair, Will’s main motive here wasn’t to torture the man, he genuinely had been really craving a cheeseburger and if Hannibal was willing to be a good sport even with all Will’s teasing about it, he’d earned a bit of surgery. After all denying him sex was one thing, trying to get Hannibal Lecter to make diner quality food was quite another.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow yet nodded, “then you shall have your burger, dearest,” he mimicked slightly, usually the word genuinely instead of mocking like Will.
***
Usually Will only conceptually understood what Hannibal meant when he referred to something as making love. He knew how Hannibal saw it of course, but didn’t typically agree with the romanticism of it, killing together was certainly intimate, watching Hannibal cook was certainly intimate, and just because Will didn’t let Hannibal touch him in any sexual ways, doesn’t mean they haven’t simply explored each other just to explore, or seen each other naked, or even showered together. And while he understood that his partner’s insistence on verbally equating these things to sex was his way of trying to rile Will up, he knew Hannibal genuinely saw them all as equal, that to him having Will zone out and let some actual affection pool in his face while he watched Hannibal prepare dinner, was truly comparable to what he imagined sex with him would be like.
Will just didn’t necessarily agree.
He assumed Hannibal would make the same sort of remark as Will sat down in the living room to let him dig the bullet out of his stomach, but as he was peeling the gauze off the bullet wound so Hannibal could get to work, Will got it.
He knew that when they finally had sex, he would likely be the one receiving. Sure he wasn’t experienced in that area, and had never done such a thing, but he could imagine it pretty well, had even tried a few times while alone in the shower, just to test how it felt. Not great, with how much trouble he had with the angle and the water not making his fingers slippery enough, but he knew that Hannibal would know how to do it. That when he did it would feel like fire or honey, something poetic like that.
If he let Hannibal have the satisfaction of being allowed to do that, he wanted to be taken care of, and trusted Hannibal to listen to him. For all his toying with the man’s feelings, he did want that.
The thing is though, that he was imagining all that with the proper entrance, and had no clue how to feel when Hannibal Lecter was sitting on a stool set between his legs and gently undoing the buttons of Will’s shirt then sliding it off him, faced with the fact Hannibal’s fingers were indeed going to be inside him, just at a different entry point. He certainly wasn't feeling the level of disgust he knew he should be.
His gaze flickered up to Hannibal’s face, who met his eyes, and he saw there, that of course Hannibal was thinking the exact same thing. But opening his mouth about ‘how intimate it all was’ would ruin the moment, and he understood that. Will had never really gotten into foreplay, but… well that look that passed between them before Hannibal was pushing inside… that was a hell of a lot better than any of Will’s ex girlfriends’ attempts at it.
Will hissed, his jaw clenching, however sexual he was finding it, it was still a bullet wound, and hurt like hell, though he wasn’t about to admit that it wasn’t… an entirely unwelcome sensation.
“Couldn’t wait to get inside me so you find an alternate entrance?” He rasped, giving him an intentionally scolding look. Best to keep up the facade for as long as he could. Just because he was actively losing his mind and felt it might even be just as sexual if he just let Hannibal fuck him already, didn’t mean he had to give Hannibal the satisfaction of admitting it.
“I’m simply providing the medical attention you asked of me,” Hannibal breathed. Already his person suit was slipping, eyes half lidded, hair falling out of place just slightly, an honest smile.
“Right,” he clipped, shuddering in pa… in something, as he felt Hannibal digging around, feeling gently, his hands deathly cold compared to the scorching heat of his insides. It was completely unnatural to feel, horrific even, Will briefly felt sick but another twitch of fingers changed that. Because unfortunately this was Hannibal, and as much as Will denied it and did everything he could to spite it, he trusted him. He wouldn’t be fucking happy about it, but if Hannibal wanted to vivisect him, Will would eventually give in as long as he promised to just sew him back up afterwards. God and with the way things were going, Will would probably just come during that.
He didn’t really know how long it took, but without a single doubt much longer than necessary. Hannibal had his chance to take his time, and he wasn’t gonna waste it, because Will’s brain was short-circuiting from pain, and he leaned his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, letting himself be held as his hands shook. Finally he felt the fingers slide out, and drop a clatter of metal to the floor, a bullet slick with blood bumping against his boot.
“Better?” Hannibal asked, petting Will’s hair, raising his now free hand to lift his head and see Will’s face better, wiping sweat away from his cheek with his thumb, not caring about the blood he smeared instead.
Better is not one of the words Will would use to describe what he was feeling. No, most of those would ruin the chase and admit just how tightly the man had Will Graham wrapped around his finger, literally until just a moment ago… maybe their dynamic wasn’t always owner and dog.
Better not to say anything at all.
He reached up with his shaky hand, cupping the back of Hannibal’s neck tightly, and tugging him closer than he already was, pulling him into a kiss he couldn’t help but pant into.
Hannibal returned it of course, never afraid to show how far gone he was, sucking gently on Will’s top lip, and sliding his hands from Will’s head down his back, one just rubbing his bare skin mindlessly, the other firmly pressing against the bullet wound, probably just trying to rile Will up by hurting him or… maybe to stop the bleeding, there was a lot of blood soaking into the couch cushions.
Whatever the reasons, Will quietly groaned against Hannibal’s mouth, either in pleasure or pain didn’t matter all that much. Hannibal, for all his desperation in these matters, didn’t take advantage of the opportunity with his tongue like Will thought he would. Hoped he would, to be frank. Just parted his mouth too, transitioning them into open mouthed kisses.
It was desperate in the way they both needed this like they needed water, but languid, tender, this was the first time Will had allowed actual making out before, and Hannibal wasn’t one to rush fine privileges, especially when he didn’t know when he’d be allowed to have this again. Right now though, Will would be merciful and let him have this. No other reasons.
By the time Hannibal pulled back, Will knew the only reason he wasn’t hard was because of the blood loss. Oh but Hannibal was, and in those tailored pants… fuck. Okay maybe Will definitely wasn’t thinking straight because these were a bit racier than the thoughts he normally allowed himself.
Hannibal just sat there gazing into his eyes for a moment, and swallowed, hair in his eyes and lips swollen. “Tell me you love me,” he requested gently, it felt more like pleading to Will. Maybe it was.
“Hannibal… I…”
“I know Will,” he cut off, “I know you like leading me on and playing with my feelings, but please, just once? I won’t mention it again.”
God. And Will thought he had puppy eyes.
“I love you Hannibal,” he breathed. The words were unspoken until now, but came naturally. It wasn’t important to say, so he hadn’t before, but if Hannibal was this ruined from some making out and begging to hear the words, Will would allow it.
The man nodded, and closed his eyes, resting their foreheads together for a moment before standing up, and pushing the stool back, and settling on his knees so he was eye level with the injury. Will expected him to start mouthing at his crotch or something, but he was good and simply reached for the suture kit, and started sewing Will up, with practiced methodical stitches. He could have gone faster, but neither of them were in a hurry to get away from this. Will just leaned his head back and shut his eyes to lose himself in Hannibal’s hands along his stomach, the feeling of his body resting on the inside of Will’s legs.
He even kissed it better, after Will heard the snip of scissors cutting off the tread. And another kiss slightly below that, and farther, and farther…
And there came the mouthing against Will’s crotch, nimble fingers undoing his belt, and Will groaned, but more in frustration than anything. The man knew he wasn’t allowed, and had to push it anyway and now Will knew how hot his breath would be as he sucked him off and fuck was that going to make it so much harder to wait.
“Hannibal…” he sighed in a warning tone, looking down and cracked his eyes open at the desperate man freezing like he’d been caught, tongue against denim. He finally sat up straight, letting out a disappointed sigh, and pushing his hair back in place.
“Right, right, I know…”
“I’m never saying I love you again if you start acting like a dog in heat every time,” Will smirked, trying to fix his own hair a bit, get back a little bit more composure, and scrubbed a hand down his face that came back damp with sweat and blood. Right. The blood.
He sighed, and stood up gingerly as Hannibal shifted out of the way, his legs a bit weak. Sure enough his trousers were soaked in blood, and worse their new couch cushions. “I… don’t really look forward to having to get these stains out,” he sighed, reaching for some fresh gauze and bandages, to finish dressing the wound proper.
“And you won’t have to,” Hannibal said happily, standing up and grabbing the cushions, carrying them into the washroom, then hurrying out again to help Will into their bedroom, knowing full well he was capable of getting out of his clothes himself even after the impromptu surgery.
Will wasn’t above denying Hannibal what he wanted, and then basking in the fact that the man would basically do anything to take care of him anyway. He let Hannibal peel the blood soaked trousers and boxers off him, and help him into the shower, before going to finish dinner.
Maybe Will would let Hannibal have sex with him soon… it largely depended on how good the burger turned out.