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Hannibal felt the water against his back and moaned.
For all the privileges that Alana had allowed him, there was no chance of a proper shower. The BSHCI had nothing but large stalled showers that allowed the guards and doctors to observe their patients. Hannibal was awarded a select time to shower in private but even that was with the caveat of a guard watching over him. He longed for the clean feeling that proper water pressure and shower products could give him.
He preferred his water scalding, just enough to hurt ; to turn his skin pink. The water at the hospital never went above a lukewarm. He had scrubbed every inch of his body with the fruity body wash Abigail had left behind. He inhaled the washcloth and thought of her. He thought of her smile. Her tears. Her blood coating his skin as he took the life from her.
He rinsed off the soap.
He rinsed his hair with a plain shampoo that smelt of dollar store cheapness and chemicals. It would have been wise to tell Will to bring some products. Hannibal imagined a bathroom filled with nothing but ships on bottles and laughed.
The bathroom door opened.
“Did you need something Will? I’ll only be a minute more.” That was a lie. Hannibal fully intended to take as much time as he liked. Will didn’t respond.
Hannibal rinsed out the shampoo. He closed his eyes and took in the fresh feeling he hadn’t been awarded in years. He took conditioner, the same generic cheap brand, and rubbed it into his hair. Much shorter and not as neat as he would have liked to keep it. Margot and Alana both had instructed the hospital’s barber through each exact strand. A punishment in the early days of his capture. Before he learned how to behave. Or at the very least when he didn’t care to.
Through the shower curtain Hannibal could just see the outline of a man. A man that was looking back at him. “Will?”
Will didn’t answer.
The silhouette of hands came up to his shirt. Button by button his fingers went until it was lying on the floor beside the lump of hospital issue pajamas.
Hannibal rinsed out his conditioner.
Will took off his belt. Laid it on the sink.
Hannibal turned the temperature of the water down, only just.
Will took off his pants. Left them on the floor.
Hannibal took in his surroundings. The water fell off his body and down the drain. He allowed his sane mind to go with it. Washing every good decision he could make down down down the drain and away from here. He let the fresh feeling of indulgence take its place.
Will stepped into the shower. Hannibal did not face him.
Dry, but not for very long, hands took their place on the Verger brand. A mechanic’s fingers, built for work they rarely saw, traced along the scar and gave it care.
“I hardly think about it.” Hannibal filled the silence. Will refused to speak.
Will rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, mouthing against the flesh. Never biting or kissing, only feeling. Like an infant rooting for it’s mother’s breast. Looking for something to sustain but not being able to find it and hardly knowing what it was looking for. He traced his hands down, feeling at the skin of Hannibal’s hips and waist. Leaner now from a lack of a proper diet. Food that he’d swallowed with lack of passion. With only necessity. Hannibal was starving. Will placed a hand over his stomach and squeezed. His hands continued.
The water fell over them both, drenching Will’s curls. Hannibal briefly wondered, in the deep jealous parts of his mind, if the wife ever got to feel this. Hands wondering, exploring, searching.
A single finger traced along the tip of his cock.
Hannibal gasped. He wasn’t quite hard yet, but he was already on the way. Will stroked one millimeter at a time with just the tip of his middle finger. Hannibal could taste his own heart.
“Tell me to stop.”
“You don’t want to stop.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Stop.”
Hannibal moaned as Will’s hand stroked him in earnest. He felt every point of contact on his most intimate parts.
“No.”
The water continued it’s downpour. Washing away the precome that would have been dripping by now. Hannibal reached around, wanting to feel the man plastered to his back. Press his nails into the skin of Will’s arms and take his pound of flesh. Will pressed his teeth into the skin of his neck. Not a bite. A secret between them. An inside joke. A reference. I have teeth too. Hannibal kept his hands to himself.
Will stroked lazily with one hand and with the other, he explored. Ran his fingers and palm along chest hair and nipples. He pinched and fondled and clawed until no part of Hannibal was as clean as it had been mere moments ago. Hannibal was in awe of the creature before him. Selfish and demanding. Will seemed a generous lover, Hannibal hoped he wouldn’t be.
When Hannibal came, it wasn’t given much thought. The sticky material went down the drain with the rest of the evidence and Will kept going.
Hannibal’s throat was dry and his cock was wet and he felt dizzy.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Stop.”
Hannibal came again. Will’s hand still moving at the same lazy pace and his face still hidden.
“No.”
The water took the orgasms down the drain. Took the evidence of touch into pipes that wouldn’t be able to share their secrets.
Will stopped after it was clear that age would be preventing a third. Hannibal was not so young a man. Will rinsed his hands under the water and got out.
Once the bathroom door closed Hannibal finished his shower. The water turned off and a towel around his waist he sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat.
Will’s wedding ring sat on the sink.
Hannibal slipped it down the drain.