The cool water doesn't help, exactly, but it doesn't hurt either. Hannibal orders a glass of wine, and Will wonders if he should have gotten a whiskey for himself, something to make him drowsy, knowing sleep will hasten their arrival, at least from his perspective. Will's glass of water goes down too quickly, and it wakes him up as much as it calms the unrelenting undercurrent of desire he feels for Hannibal. It's late and he feels a little raw around his eyes, a little prickly through his nerves. Resting his head back against the headrest, he closes his eyes again, feeling heavy and tired but awake and alert at the same time.
It's insane, what he's doing, what they're doing together. But it's also exactly where their pasts have lead them, apart at first and now completely aligned. A dam broke tonight, at Hannibal's table, a torrent of desires and longings that Will hadn't ever let into the light before. Not all of it is sexual, but Will's physical yearning for Hannibal is the most difficult to ignore. Before tonight Will had never wanted sex with this much voracity, had never felt as thoroughly satisfied as he had when Hannibal sent him roughly into orgasm. There's probably a lot therapists would say about what that means about him, but Will doesn't care. Maybe his own psychiatrist can give his opinion next time he fucks Will into ultimate bliss. It would be the best pillow talk Will had ever experienced.
Taking a breath, Will lets his mind wander, thinks about Hannibal in bed after sex, a time when they'll be able to talk without having to worry about a plane they need to catch. He wonders what they'll talk about, if Hannibal will be tender, touching just to touch, if they'll sleep side by side, wake up and fuck again at sunrise. The notion is romantic, but at the same time there's something else, an equality Will's never felt with a lover, a desire to be overpowered without giving up his strength. Hannibal is the embodiment of everything Will's always wanted and needed without really realizing it, and now that he's had a taste of it, he only wants more.
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It's insane, what he's doing, what they're doing together. But it's also exactly where their pasts have lead them, apart at first and now completely aligned. A dam broke tonight, at Hannibal's table, a torrent of desires and longings that Will hadn't ever let into the light before. Not all of it is sexual, but Will's physical yearning for Hannibal is the most difficult to ignore. Before tonight Will had never wanted sex with this much voracity, had never felt as thoroughly satisfied as he had when Hannibal sent him roughly into orgasm. There's probably a lot therapists would say about what that means about him, but Will doesn't care. Maybe his own psychiatrist can give his opinion next time he fucks Will into ultimate bliss. It would be the best pillow talk Will had ever experienced.
Taking a breath, Will lets his mind wander, thinks about Hannibal in bed after sex, a time when they'll be able to talk without having to worry about a plane they need to catch. He wonders what they'll talk about, if Hannibal will be tender, touching just to touch, if they'll sleep side by side, wake up and fuck again at sunrise. The notion is romantic, but at the same time there's something else, an equality Will's never felt with a lover, a desire to be overpowered without giving up his strength. Hannibal is the embodiment of everything Will's always wanted and needed without really realizing it, and now that he's had a taste of it, he only wants more.