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Title: The Sweetest Cherry
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Prompt: 32, Cherry
Author's Note: Sequel to "Tart on the Tongue."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***Oh, this was exciting. The most exciting thing that had ever happened to him.
It was frightening, too; he was taking his first few steps into the unknown.
Will's heart felt as though it was beating in triple time; his breath was coming faster, heavier, labored. He knew that if he tried to speak, no words would come out.
He desperately wanted Hannibal to take the blindfold off so that he could look into those enigmatic dark eyes and see whatever emotion might be written there. If he could look into those eyes, what would he see? Would he see affection? Desire? Interest?
He didn't know, and at the moment, he didn't care. He just wanted more contact than merely that hand holding another ripe cherry to his lips.
Obediently, he took the second cherry into his mouth, biting into it.
Immediately, the taste flooded his senses; if he hadn't been blindfolded already, he would have closed his eyes, almost moaning at the sweet tanginess.
"You are like the sweetest of cherries, Will," Hannibal whispered into his ear. "So ripe, and .... so pure and untouched. I would like to be the one to, as they say, pop such a cherry. That is, if you would agree to my being the first to take you and teach you."
With surprising suddenness, the blindfold was removed from his eyes, and Will found himself staring up at Hannibal, his blue eyes wide with shock.
Of all the words he might have expected to hear from this man, those words hadn't been anything like what he might have thought Hannibal would say.
He had expected some kind of allegory about feeding his soul as well as his body, something that proved to him once and for all that the vague hope he had in the back of his mind that Hannibal might be interested in him as something than a friend -- and a patient -- wasn't in vain.
He'd wanted to hear something like that, but had never dreamed that he would. And Hannibal was putting it so bluntly. He hadn't expected that, either.
Still, there was nothing he could do but give his answer.
"Yes," he managed to whisper, his gaze not leaving Hannibal's. "I want that. I've wanted that for a while now. I just didn't know how to tell you."
Hannibal grasped Will's chin, staring into the younger man's eyes as though he was trying to see into his soul. "You are mine, Will," he whispered, his voice soft and harsh at the same time. "You have been mine since we first met. I've always known that -- and now, so will you."
Will nodded slowly, his breath constricting. He knew that he belonged to Hannibal; he had just been afraid to put that knowledge into words.
Now, for better or worse, it was done, and their intricate dance had begun.
Any resemblance that he bore to a cherry wouldn't be there for much longer.
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