Hannibal has imagined many ways of murdering Will, of preparing him for consumption, of putting him on display. He has thought of every organ, every cut of meat, and considered what recipes would be best, would truly do justice to the man who had supplied the key ingredient. From the beginning Hannibal has admired him, has thought him worthy of something truly sublime. At the moment he imagines that, were he to decide to consume Will, he would do it slowly, much as he had done to Gideon. Piece by piece detached, prepared, and shared between them, enjoying the experience together until Will's body would regrettably be unable to continue. Then Hannibal would prepare and consume his heart. It is perhaps a sentimental cliche, but still, he thinks, an appropriate one.
But Will's death is at this moment no more than a mere fancy. Even if the thought does cause his groin to warm and his cock to stir.
The idea that Will might kill him first is also one that gives him a flush of arousal. Will had come so close to killing him a number or times, either in person or by proxy. He had said that killing Hannibal with his hands would feel righteous. He wonders if Will is aware how much that encounter aroused him, how much he would return to it in his mind palace. Will's revelation that he had imagined tasting Hannibal's blood was not a surprise, of course, but it garners a deeper smile.
Hannibal pulls the cork out of the bottle and fills the two glasses halfway. He sets the bottle down, cups the glasses in each hand, and goes to the bed.
"Wine for now," he says, extending one glass to Will. "Perhaps something less symbolic soon."
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Date: 2016-03-15 04:25 am (UTC)But Will's death is at this moment no more than a mere fancy. Even if the thought does cause his groin to warm and his cock to stir.
The idea that Will might kill him first is also one that gives him a flush of arousal. Will had come so close to killing him a number or times, either in person or by proxy. He had said that killing Hannibal with his hands would feel righteous. He wonders if Will is aware how much that encounter aroused him, how much he would return to it in his mind palace. Will's revelation that he had imagined tasting Hannibal's blood was not a surprise, of course, but it garners a deeper smile.
Hannibal pulls the cork out of the bottle and fills the two glasses halfway. He sets the bottle down, cups the glasses in each hand, and goes to the bed.
"Wine for now," he says, extending one glass to Will. "Perhaps something less symbolic soon."