Hannibal has enjoyed sex before, of course, like he would enjoy a fine meal, or a well-played chess move. But in those cases the joy was not in the person he was coupling with, but rather the physical act itself, or the ends it served. But this, this is something entirely different. This is taking deep pleasure, and more than pleasure, in this man in his arms. Hannibal and Will have long been dissolving into each other, and now, his arms entwined around Will as Will's are entwined around him, Hannibal can feel, can imagine, them physically merging, their skin growing together, splitting apart, merging, their rib cages opening to clasp each other, their hearts combining, stitched together, beating together, as the creature that is more than merely Hannibal and merely Will, writhes in ecstasy. They are of one mind and one body and one heart and one soul and one blood and one heat and one love, one love, one love. Hannibal has loved in his life, but not like this. He has never been in love like this. Has never felt with such absolute certainty that another human being held a piece of his soul that he never knew he had lost.

Hannibal moans as Will moves against his thrusts, drawing them deeper inside him. and Hannibal, encouraged, begins to move his hips with a little more force. Yet still it is not the violent, frantic rutting of their previous experience. It is tender, loving. He holds his lover steady, one arm across Will's shoulders while the other is anchored in the small of Will's back, steadying him to take Hannibal's cock deep.