Theme by maraudersmaps.

Hannibal is not a man to kill in rage. He has been impulsive before, yes, but those kills were not… special. Not like *Will*.

He invites Will to his home for dinner as often as he can, plies the man with tender meat and fine wine, and then lays him on the sofa and watches Will’s eyes focus and unfocus.

This is Will unrestrained, and untroubled, and it is the sweetest time Hannibal has spent with him; it is the most precious, these moments, when Will has neither the inhibition to hide his dark thoughts or the faculties to tell Hannibal he is becoming too familiar.

Hannibal strokes Will’s wild hair away from his forehead, and places his glasses on the table, and covers him with a warm blanket. Hannibal presses his face to Will’s neck and drinks deep of his scent, lips pressed to the fluttering beat of his pulse.

In the morning, Will is relaxed, and he thanks Hannibal. He remembers, but he pretends not to, save for a small twitch of his lips.

Their time is sweet, and it is precious, and Hannibal will not rush his Will.

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