There's an appeal to all of the things Hannibal suggests, and Will lets himself contemplate each option as he enjoys the feeling of Hannibal bathing him, soft circles of the cloth over Will's skin. Will's never been to Europe before this, never been to Paris, and there's certainly a yen in him to see the sites, the architecture, the monuments, to eat the food and observe the people. Stocking the pantry is a more immediate requirement because they'll need at least the basics to be comfortable, food and wine, though Will wonders if Hannibal means to buy meat at a boucherie, or do the butchering himself.

It's probably too soon for that, hunting here in Paris. They've only been missing from home for a day and half, and Will's certain Jack's eyes and ears are focused on Europe. But Will knows Hannibal won't be put off for long, and he's surprised that he finds himself glad of it. Taking down a mark together is the next step in their deepening intimacy, and though there's still a part of Will that recoils at the idea, more of him desires to be part of it with every passing moment in Hannibal's company.

Hannibal's hand has moved over every inch of Will's chest that he can reach, the rubbing of the cloth leaving Will's skin tingling just a little, warm and soapy. There's no reason for Hannibal's hand to be sliding back and forth now, but it is, a slow, fond motion despite the barrier between their skin. Will's realizes belatedly that he's fallen into a low level of arousal from the touch, his nipples drawn up hard and his pulse rushing a bit in his throat, just enough blood pooled between his thighs to make his cock swell to half an erection. He licks his lips, tipping his head back further than he had before, baring his fluttering carotid to Hannibal's gaze.

"Will you think less of me if I choose option three?" Will asks, tilting his head enough that he can open his eyes to a slit and see Hannibal's face in his peripheral.