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Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Table: 7, 50ficlets
Prompt: 13, Body
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.
***Will was trembling as he and Sherlock walked into the bedroom, his mind whirling.
What was going to happen between them tonight? The possibilities seemed endless.
They were going to be together in some way, he knew that. What he didn't know was just how far this would go. He had no idea what boundaries they might cross.
He knew that he wasn't ready for them to give themselves to each other completely, and he didn't think that Sherlock was, either. As much as he loved his boyfriend, that wasn't in the cards for tonight. It wasn't the right time for either of them, but they had plenty of time for that.
Still, he knew that they both craved more, that they were both ready to take a step forward in their relationship. They'd reached a crossroads, and it was time to take a new path.
He wanted Sherlock to touch him, to explore his body, to discover him in the physical sense -- and he wanted to do the same with the man he loved. It was time for them both to reach out, to explore, to discover things about each other that they might not have imagined existed.
But a part of him hung back, afraid to give himself over to that exploration, afraid that when his body was bared to his boyfriend's eyes that Sherlock wouldn't like what he saw.
Will took a deep breath. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Slowly, he began to undress, starting with the top button of his shirt. His fingers were clumsy, as though they didn't want to move, didn't want to reveal his body to his boyfriend.
He forced those fingers to keep moving, to get to the last button and pull his shirt off. He didn't look at Sherlock's face; he couldn't bring himself to even glance up to see the expression that would be on those handsome features. He was afraid that Sherlock would look at him in horror.
He knew that there were scars on his body, scars that he hated. He'd gotten them from his years of being a cop, and some of them from his time in the FBI working for Jack.
None of them were horrible, but he felt that each one stood out in stark relief.
They were a part of him, embedded on his body as well as his soul, impossible to erase. And he was fairly certain that Sherlock wouldn't like seeing them, that they made him unattractive.
With trembling hands, he began to undo the buckle on his belt; he might as well get this over with as quickly as he could, and let Sherlock see the worst. There were no horrendous scars on the bottom half of his body, but he had no idea what Sherlock would think of him when Will revealed all of himself.
His body had never been something that he'd shared with others; no one else had ever seen him completely naked. He had never wanted anyone to view his bare body.
But now, for some reason, it was important to let Sherlock see him, to know exactly what he was getting. He wanted the man he loved to be able to make a choice, here and now.
Would Sherlock want him once his body was revealed, or would he decide that Will wasn't all that he'd hoped he would be? A part of him knew that Sherlock wasn't the kind of man to judge by appearances, but it was something that he had worried about since they had first come together.
Was he going to be good enough for this man? Or would he be summarily rejected, found wanting? He hoped not; with every fiber of his being, he wanted Sherlock to accept him as he was.
He wanted this man to embrace him completely, faults, scars, and all.
There. The button on his fly was undone; he pulled down the zipper, then let his jeans and boxers fall to floor, leaving him bared to Sherlock's faze as he stepped forward.
He heard a sharp gasp, and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. What if Sherlock hated what he saw? What if he thought that the scars on Will's body, some on his chest, a few on his arms, and one across his left side where a bullet had grazed him, were horribly ugly?
He didn't want to look up, didn't want to see an expression on revulsion on Sherlock's face. If he did see that, then he knew that all of his hopes for the future would crumble into dust.
Holding his breath, Will raised his gaze to look at his boyfriend.
All he could see on Sherlock's handsome face was an expression of wonder as his gaze traveled over Will's body; he looked as though he was dazed by what he saw.
"You," Sherlock said, his voice very soft, barely above a whisper, "are a beautiful work of art, Will Graham. You are the most lovely sight I have ever laid eyes on."
All of Will's fears melted away as soon as heard those words. Sherlock didn't find the scars on his body repulsive; he wsn't put off by what he saw. This had been the right thing to do -- and now that he had bared his body to Sherlock, he wanted his boyfriend to do the same.
"It's your turn," he whispered, holding out his arms to his love. "I want to see you just as you're seeing me, Sherlock. I want to start learning everything about your body."
"Your wish is my command," Sherlock told him, his voice soft and husky with emotion. As Will watching, he began to remove his clothes, their gazes locking and holding.
Will's breath hitched in his throat. In just seconds, they would both be naked.
Once they were, anything could happen between the two of them.
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