Will's hands are covered in blood. In the place at the head of the table sits Jack Crawford, but he's only sitting because gravity allows his body to stay in the chair, but his throat is slit, his head tipped back, eyes open and staring sightlessly. The knife is in Hannibal's hands, the table and the place setting covered in arterial spray. It's quiet, the only sound in the room is Will's breathing, shaking with the excitement of the kill, of doing it with Hannibal, clearing the way for them to escape together.
Looking up, he meets Hannibal's eyes across the table, sees the ferocity there, but also something else, a tempestuous desire. For Will.
Hannibal leaves the knife on the table, and they meet behind Jack's chair, Hannibal's hands on the sides of Will's face, their mouths crashing together, rough and wet, kissing desperately. Will can taste blood, Jack's blood, and he groans into Hannibal's mouth, their bodies crushed together, heat building between them. Will feels Hannibal tearing at his clothes, needing him to be bared completely, wanting him entirely.
Will gasps softly when reality drops back over him, bringing him to full wakefulness. He swallows and his throat hurts, and he turns his head, blinking his eyes into focus and seeing Hannibal's face, pillowed next to him on the bed. The dream falls further away and Will's memories resurface, on his hands and knees with Hannibal buried inside him, fucking him ruthlessly, coming harder than he had in his life, hearing Hannibal's voice as he followed Will into ecstasy, and then nothing.
A quick self assessment proves his memories are true, soreness in all the right places, a light pain across the front of his throat, his asshole stretched and swollen, wet with lubricant and Hannibal's come. He can still taste Hannibal's kiss on his lips, and Hannibal's eyes hold something fond and loving, Will's heart clenching again until the gaze. He licks his lips, taking a breath and realizing this is real: he and Hannibal are running away together, they belong to each other, and Will doesn't want anything more.
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Date: 2016-02-07 07:31 am (UTC)Looking up, he meets Hannibal's eyes across the table, sees the ferocity there, but also something else, a tempestuous desire. For Will.
Hannibal leaves the knife on the table, and they meet behind Jack's chair, Hannibal's hands on the sides of Will's face, their mouths crashing together, rough and wet, kissing desperately. Will can taste blood, Jack's blood, and he groans into Hannibal's mouth, their bodies crushed together, heat building between them. Will feels Hannibal tearing at his clothes, needing him to be bared completely, wanting him entirely.
Will gasps softly when reality drops back over him, bringing him to full wakefulness. He swallows and his throat hurts, and he turns his head, blinking his eyes into focus and seeing Hannibal's face, pillowed next to him on the bed. The dream falls further away and Will's memories resurface, on his hands and knees with Hannibal buried inside him, fucking him ruthlessly, coming harder than he had in his life, hearing Hannibal's voice as he followed Will into ecstasy, and then nothing.
A quick self assessment proves his memories are true, soreness in all the right places, a light pain across the front of his throat, his asshole stretched and swollen, wet with lubricant and Hannibal's come. He can still taste Hannibal's kiss on his lips, and Hannibal's eyes hold something fond and loving, Will's heart clenching again until the gaze. He licks his lips, taking a breath and realizing this is real: he and Hannibal are running away together, they belong to each other, and Will doesn't want anything more.