A slow smile spreads across Hannibal's face. There are so many things that Hannibal finds himself desiring right here and now, ways to explore his lover, or have his lover explore him. Things involving sex and wine and sweat and come, yes, and also leather and rope and steel and blood, soft and harsh words, thirst and hunger and pain and pleading, and all exquisitely beautiful. All of that lay before them, from now into the foreseeable future. At the moment Hannibal cannot see them parting until death, of one or the other of them, or possibly both simultaneously. It isn't something Hannibal is planning, and yet it's a general idea that he finds quite pleasurable.

For here and now, though, Hannibal tilts his head, regarding his lover with his eyes glittering.

"Tell me what you're thirsty for, Will." He wants Will to confess to him, to put his desires, his wants, into words. Perhaps at some point Hannibal will have him plead. For now admission is sufficient.