Will's arousal, so clear in the shuddering breath he takes, makes Hannibal's own heart race. He has had victims who found a thrill in their demise. Indeed, Gideon had enjoyed the meal that Hannibal prepared for him out of his own leg. But there is a difference between a thrill, sexual or no, and a desire to share, to commune to experience death together. In a strange way, it doesn't matter which one will kill and which one will die. Perhaps they will ultimately do both at the same time.

"I would take you apart," he says, his voice a low purr, "piece by piece." He leans down, reaching out with the hand not holding the wine. "Shanks," he murmurs, his fingers caressing Will's calf, smoothing upward to his thigh. "Round." He slides his fingers under Will's ass, and squeezes it gently.

"Rump."