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Title: Elusive Sleep
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #109, Sleep
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 turned over in bed with a sigh of annoyance, punching the pillow with one fist. Yet another night when he couldn't sleep; he should be used to this by now, as insomnia had been a part of his life for longer than he cared to remember.

But the insomnia that had been attacking him lately had been particularly virulent; before; at least he'd managed to get a couple of hours' sleep a night. Now, he had trouble even getting a few minutes of sleep before he would awaken again, more tense than ever.

He wasn't sure just what was causing his insomnia, but he had an inkling.

Hannibal was never far from his thoughts. Hannibal was always there in the back of his mind, smiling, gesturing, drawing him nearer, like the proverbial moth to a flame. He might not have beckoned outwardly, but Will didn't doubt that he wanted to.

Hannibal was never far from his mind, no matter how much he tried to block the other man out. He always made his way insidiously back in, seemingly with no effort.

Was he becoming hooked on Hannibal? Will could only come to the conclusion that he was; if he wasn't then he wouldn't be constantly thinking about the other man, even dreaming about him. Hannibal had gotten under his skin, and Will didn't know how to dislodge him.

Honestly, he didn't want to.

He wanted more from Hannibal than he had, truth be told. He wanted to be in Hannibal's bed, writhing under him, crying out his name. He'd much rather be there than here alone, in his own bed, drenched with sweat and unable to sleep.

Sleep had always been elusive for him, but since Hannibal had come into his life, his insomnia had only worsened. Thoughts of Hannibal kept him awake, followed him into his dreams, and made his body burn in a way that had never happened before.

Will had never been comfortable with his own body; he'd never really liked touching himself. Yes, it felt good, but that physical well-being was always followed by a terrible sense of shame, even though he knew that there was nothing wrong with masturbating.

Since he'd met Hannibal, he had been masturbating much more than he ever had before -- the touching always accompanied by thoughts of the other man.

He didn't want to touch himself. He wanted Hannibal to touch him.

He craved Hannibal's hands on his body, moving over his skin. He craved Hannibal's mouth on his lips, on his body, on his cock. He craved feeling Hannibal inside him, even though he had never had sex with a man before in his life.

Hell, he'd never had sex with anyone; he had never wanted another person enough to let down those walls that he kept wrapped around himself. He had wanted to be touched, yes, but never enough to trust the few people he'd been out with.

Aside from a little kissing and fumbling, he'd never been intimate with anyone. Intimacy frightened him; it felt as though he was letting someone into his private sanctum, exposing much more of himself than he had ever been comfortable with. Intimacy didn't work for him.

And yet, he wanted Hannibal to touch him, to kiss him .... to fuck him. He wanted to grant Hannibal the greatest intimacy there was.

No, not the greatest. The greatest intimacy would be letting Hannibal inside his mind.

Hadn't he already done that, in a way? He had bared a lot of his soul to Hannibal in their psychiatric sessions, even though he wasn't technically the other man's patient. Somehow, they had fallen into those sessions, as though they came naturally.

He had even talked to Hannibal about his lack of sleep, and been given several suggestions on how to help himself fall asleep without the insomnia pulling him back into wakefulness. But he had never told Hannibal the truth of the matter.

He'd never told the other man that he was the reason for that wakefulness. If he did, he was sure that Hannibal would back away from him.

What would Hannibal say if he knew that he was the cause of Will's insomnia? What would he say if he knew that Will's erotic dreams of him were what kept him swathed in wakefulness, kept his body burning and yearning for what he was sure he couldn't have?

What if he could have Hannibal? What would he do then?

Would he throw himself at the object of his desire shamelessly? Or would he hold himself back, feeling that it must be a mistake, that Hannibal couldn't possibly want him?

Will didn't know which of those things he would choose to do, but he was leaning towards the former. He was sure that if Hannibal only held out a hand and gave him a bit of encouragement, that he would be in the other man's arms, no matter how dangerous it might be.

Dangerous, yes, for Hannibal as well as for himself. He knew that fraternizing with a patient wasn't something that Hannibal should do; it could cause his ethics to be questioned, and if worst came to worst, he could lose his license to practice psychiatry.

Still, he couldn't help wondering if something could happen between them. There were times when the look in Hannibal's eyes when their gazes met made him positive that Hannibal had these sleepless nights as well, that he wanted Will just as badly as Will wanted him.

But he would more than likely never know.

Neither of them would break out of the safety of what was expected of them and reach out for each other. He knew that he didn't have the courage to do so.

He couldn't go through life without ever telling Hannibal how he felt, Will thought miserably, staring up at the ceiling. Sooner or later, he had to know. He had to find out if there was even the slightest chance that Hannibal could feel the same way about him.

Was it love? Of course not, he told himself sternly. He didn't know Hannibal well enough to love him. They were friends, and that was as far as it went -- so far. But beyond the friendship, there was a desire the he couldn't deny, and that he didn't want to hold back.

It was getting harder and harder for him to deny that desire. The longer he did, the stronger it became. At some point, he wouldn't be able to fight it any more.

And once he lost that battle, then Hannibal would know his feelings.

What would he do? What would he say? Would he laugh them off, and tell Will that he had only become the object of those desires because Will needed some kind of outlet? Or would he take them seriously -- and possibly even return them?

There was no way for him to know. Not until he talked to Hannibal about those desires, and got them out in the open. He would have to be honest about how he felt, no matter the danger to his ego, or to his friendship with the man he wanted so desperately.

He knew one thing -- he couldn't keep those desires bottled up any longer. They had to come out, though he knew that it could be a perilous undertaking to set them free.

But he had no choice in the matter. He had to let Hannibal know how he felt -- if he didn't, then the insomnia would not only continue, it would get worse. And the longing for Hannibal would grow stronger, until there was no way for him to contain it any longer.

If that happened, then he could become a danger to himself.

It was past time to tell Hannibal how he felt. He had let these desires build up until they were ready to break their bonds, to rage out of control.

What was making him hold back? There was no reason to. Holding back was only prolonging his own agony, and making his desire grow stronger. He would talk to Hannibal about this tomorrow, when they had their next session. There was nothing stopping him.

With that decision made, Will closed his eyes, sighing and hoping that despite everything, he would still be able to capture at least a little of that elusive sleep tonight.