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Title: Dreaming of You
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
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 hovering above him, a smile on his lips. Will was looking down at him, those intensely blue eyes focused on his face, their gazes meeting and holding. Will was touching him, one hand drifting down his chest, his fingertips slightly calloused but soft and warm.
Sherlock moaned softly, turning his head to the side, as though he was trying to escape that gaze. He wasn't, not really. He didn't mind Will looking at him -- and he certainly loved to look at Will. The younger man was a beautiful sight.
In just a few moments, they would be doing more than simply looking at each other. Sherlock knew that Will was going to make love to him, that this was going to be their first joining -- and he was more than ready for it. He had been craving this ever since their first meeting.
He wanted Will to make love to him, wanted this man to take him, to make Sherlock his. He wanted all that he could get from Will; he was greedy for the other man's touch, for his kiss, for his body. He wanted this more than he had ever wanted anything.
Will was going to enter him, to take him. He was going to give up his virginity willingly, without a second thought, to the man he desired. There were no second thoughts, no doubts in his mind. This was what he wanted; there would be no regrets, no looking back.
Sherlock's hips raised as Will pressed against him, the touch insistent but not overly demanding. In only a second now, Will would be inside him, and the long wait to join their bodies would be over. He would be a virgin no longer; he would have given himself to Will.
Just as that thought took shape in his mind, just as he was on the edge of surrendering himself, Sherlock's eyes opened, and he awakened with a gasp. He slowly sat up in bed, looking around the darkened room, his
eyes wide, his breath hitching in his throat.
A dream. It had only been a dream. Will wasn't in bed with him, wasn't beside him. Will was in his own bedroom down the hallway, and he was probably sleeping peacefully -- which Sherlock wished he himself could do without being haunted by dreams.
This was the third night he had spent in Will's house; Will had agreed that leaving Wolf Trap and moving to London was a logical step, and he had started to put the wheels in motion to sell his house. It would
take a few more days, but so far, all was going smoothly.
They had already begun to pack Will's belongings; what he didn't want to keep could be given to the local Goodwill, and they would have the rest shipped to Baker Street. It would be a bit costly, but Sherlock knew that money would be no problem.
He wasn't going to tell Will yet that he came from a well-to-do family and that the cost of helping Will move to London was negligible. He didn't want to flaunt that wealth; he didn't want Will to feel that he was being helped out of pity.
And he didn't want Will to know just how badly he was wanted, Sherlock thought with a soft sigh. He certainly couldn't tell Will about these erotic dreams; he didn't think Will would be repulsed by them, but it might might him feel wary or uncomfortable.
That was the last thing he wanted. He was determined to make this move go as smoothly as possible for Will; he wanted the younger man to be at ease, to forget all of the stress he'd had to deal with lately and to start himself on the road to recovery.
Sherlock wanted to help Will along that road every step of the way, and he couldn't help feeling that these dreams, that his own burgeoning desire for Will, would only make the other man back away. So he would keep them to himself, and try to hold back his own desires.
Once Will was comfortably ensconced at 221B Baker Street, once he began to feel comfortable with London and with his new life there, then they could talk about their personal feelings. Sherlock was sure that Will would be receptive; he just had to be patient.
He sighed, turning over onto his side and closing his eyes, though he knew that it would be a good long while before he could sleep again. Who was he fooling? He could just as easily tell Will of his feelings here, before the move to London even happened.
He was simply afraid to tell Will how he felt, afraid that his feelings wouldn't be returned, and that Will might change his mind about moving to London if he knew that Sherlock harbored romantic feelings towards him. He was afraid that everything would fall apart.
After all, there were so many other places that Will could go. He didn't have to move to England once he left Wolf Trap. He could go to any city in the States; he didn't have to go to the trouble of moving overseas, which would be almost like a whole new world for him.
Sherlock didn't want to upset the delicate balance of the relationship that they had already formed; at this point, it might be nothing more than a friendship, but they were already close, and growing closer. He didn't want to jeopardize that closeness.
They had talked for a quite a while long into the night and during the days; Sherlock was sure that he knew more about Will Graham, more about his feelings and how his mind worked, than anyone else had ever come to know. Will had opened his heart, in some ways.
Well, maybe not his heart, but certainly his mind. Sherlock had begun to know the young man well over the past couple of days, and all that he discovered about Will only made his respect and desire grow. If he had wanted Will before, that desire had only grown.
Did Will feel the same about him? With a sigh, Sherlock turned over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea if Will had the same feelings. He was afraid to ask, afraid to probe in any way that might give him the answers he sought.
He had never been afraid to search for answers from anyone before -- but he had never felt this way before. He was sure that this was more than mere desire; what he felt for Will wasn't just a physical lust. That wasn't really in his nature.
No, what he felt was love -- or something that could very easily grow into love. In fact, Sherlock was sure that the feeling was already growing; he already felt protective of Will in a way that he never had with anyone else.
Of course, protectiveness wasn't love; there were other things that had to be included in the mix for him to be able to call it love. But he was sure that he was falling, fast and hard. He might never have loved before, but he knew when it was happening.
He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't wanted this. But it had happened, and he wasn't foolish enough to turn away from it. Besides, he knew that if he did, he would always regret doing so, and that his life would be terribly empty and lonely.
Sherlock didn't want to spend the rest of his life dreaming of Will, yearning after him. He wanted to take the chance of having Will by his side for the rest of their lives, the chance that Will might feel the same as he did and want to be with him.
It was a chance worth taking, wasn't it? So many people searched for love all of their lives and never found it. He had been lucky enough to have it fall into his lap when he hadn't been looking, when he had least expected it. He needed to follow through.
He was tired of being lonely, tired of being, as that woman had dubbed him, "the virgin." He wanted a relationship, wanted someone in his life to love. He wanted to stop dreaming about Will and start being with
him, to submerge himself in what he felt.
Maybe it would take time. Maybe he was right to wait until they were in London and Will had been given time to adjust to living a new life. But even if he had to wait for a while, his feelings would eventually be out in the open.
Waiting was going to be terribly frustrating, but he could do it. He could make himself be patient. And maybe he could drop little hints to Will as to how he felt, and judge the other man's reactions. Maybe that would be the best way to go about this.
Sherlock sighed again, closing his eyes and bringing Will's face to mind. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, anyone who stirred his emotions in the way that Will did. It wasn't just his physical beauty. It was everything about him.
He couldn't pinpoint just what had made him fall for Will; he didn't think that it was just one aspect. It was the aura that surrounded Will, for lack of a better term. And, of course, he hadn't been able to ignore the fact that Will was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.
Really, was it so surprising that he'd fallen in love? Sherlock didn't think so. He was over thirty, for god's sake. It was probably far past time that his heart had become engaged. Most people were shocked to know that it never had been before.
Would anyone be surprised to find out that he'd fallen in love with a man? He didn't think so. Most people wondered about his sexuality; he was sure that most who knew him thought that he didn't have any sort of
sexual desires, that he was some kind of anomaly.
But he wasn't. He'd always had desires; he had merely kept all of them sublimated, refusing to acknowledge them. He had told himself all of his life that he would know when he fell in love, and that when he did, he would heed that call.
Well, he'd certainly fallen in love now; he was what people called head over heels. In the popular parlance, he'd fallen, and he couldn't get up. Truthfully, he didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay head over heels, on his knees, fallen and captured.
He couldn't imagine not feeling this way about Will. It had been some kind of kismet, some stroke of fate that had brought them together and brought his heart under Will's spell. It was a fate that he didn't want to deny, a fate that he was grateful to.
He had dreamed about falling in love, and what it would feel like. The person he would love had always been a shadowy element of his dreams; the face had never been clear, and he'd never known if it would be a man or a woman.
Now, that figure had a face, and a name. Will Graham was his love, a love who he would never stray from, never forsake. Will had his heart for all time; Sherlock belonged to him. It was an admission that felt surprisingly easy to make.
Sherlock took one deep breath, then another. He wouldn't have to be content with merely dreaming about Will for much longer -- or so he hoped. Once they were in London, settled into the flat at Baker Street, then he could reveal how he felt.
And then, if Will didn't feel the same, he would make himself back off, force himself to view Will as nothing more than a friend, and assure the younger man that there would be nothing more between them from then on but friendship. No overtures, nothing.
That would be difficult to do, but if Will didn't feel the same way about him, then he wouldn't have much of a choice. He hoped that Will wouldn't decide to move out, to find his own flat and to avoid him. It was a possibility, but one that seemed very dim.
Because he was almost absolutely sure that Will did feel the same. He was sure that he'd seen a spark of interest in those blue eyes, a spark that matched the one in his own heart. He was sure that Will had romantic feelings for him.
It was even very possible that Will dreamed of him, too. The idea made him smile. He liked to think of Will dreaming of him in the same way, liked feeling that Will wanted him just as much, and that those feelings also kept him awake at night.
He wasn't going to ask, of course, but he had the feeling that once the move to London was accomplished and they were on more familiar ground, he would know soon enough. There was no way that feelings like this could be kept hidden forever, on either side.
He would simply have to be patient for just a bit longer, Sherlock told himself. Patience wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he could force himself to wait when he had to. And the rewards for waiting would be more than well worth it.
A smile on his lips, he turned over onto his side again, pulling the covers up around him. This time, when he closed his eyes, sleep began to overtake him almost immediately, and within moments, he had fallen into yet another dream of Will and their future together.
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