Will feels like he's outside himself as well as inside, watching and experiencing all at once. Trapped back against the wall, Hannibal is his universe, Hannibal's body a cage he's more than happy to be inclosed within, and Will's bucking and struggling is only to feel more, falling deeper into the wide, hot center of the destruction of his old life. Hannibal is strong and powerful, passionate, desperate, unbridled, and Will follows the same path willingly, giving himself up entirely to his own rebirth.

Hannibal loses his balance here first this time, grinding on Will, using Will's body as a means to release his pleasure, and Will revels in it, pulling Hannibal in close when it explodes from him, Will's fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Hannibal's neck, his other hand pressed hard into the center of Hannibal's back. The sound of Hannibal's voice, dark and broken, stripped of pretense, is what drives Will over, his head thrown back as he continues to cling to Hannibal, his spunk adding to the mess between them.

When Will can breathe again, deeply enough to speak, he presses his lips against the rim of Hannibal's ear, still panting hotly. "Bed," he says, his voice low. "And wine," he adds, his chest heaving, body still trembling the the aftermath.