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Title: Everybody Knows
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Table: iPod Song Challenge, getyourwordsout
Prompt: Everybody Knows, by Leonard Cohen
Author's Note: One-shot fic, written specifically for a challenge.
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.
***"Everybody knows about us, Hannibal. Everybody."
"Everybody?" Hannibal looked up from his desk, a small smile quirking the corners of his lips. "And just who would 'everybody' encompass, Will? The people you work with? Some of our friends and colleagues? I doubt the entire world knows that we are lovers."
Will shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling foolish. He probably shouldn't have come here while he was still in the first flush of anger and embarrassment; he was only making a fool of himself, and sounding more than a little flustered. That wasn't a good thing.
It was never good to sound flustered in front of Hannibal. That only made him more tongue-tied, because Hannibal was never flustered in any way.
Will wished that it was a tactic he could master, but he'd never been able to do that. When he was upset, it always showed -- in his eyes, in his face, in his voice, even in his stance. And he was definitely upset now, more than he'd been in a long time.
He ddin't want people to know about his relationship with Hannibal. It was personal, private; what he did in the privacy of his own bedroom -- or in Hannibal's bedroom -- was their business. Nobody else had a right to pry into their lives, or even to know about them.
No, he wasn't ashamed, he told himself firmly. He had nothing to be ashamed of.
They weren't doing anything wrong. They were simply two men who enjoyed each other; they were developing a relationship, just like millions of other men did. There was nothing wrong with them being together, no matter what others might think of them.
He wasn't embarrassed, either. Not really. In fact, if he was honest, he was proud that a man like Hannibal Lecter had chosen him for a lover.
Hannibal was a strong, capable man; he was handsome, erudite, well-to-do. He was a man who anybody would be proud to be with, and Will was no exception. No, there was nothing about being with Hannibal that made him feel as though he should hide.
Well, yes, there was. He wasn't so proud of the circle of bites that adorned his chest around each nipple, or the necklace of matching bites around his throat. He wasn't proud of having to hide his abraded wrists from the people he worked with, so they wouldn't know he'd been restrained.
And he wasn't proud of having to walk slowly and stiffly because he was so sore, and the knowing smirks that people exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking. Yes, everybody knew about the two of them; there was no doubt of that.
"Are you ashamed of being with me, Will?" Hannibal's voice was soft, yet demanding.
"No!" The denial came quickly; Will shook his head, scowling. "No, I'm not," he said, more softly this time, trying to calm himself down. "I could never be ashamed of being with you. I just .... wish that it hadn't been so easy for people to find out."
"Why do you care so much what they think?" Hannibal asked quietly, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Will with raised brows. "Is another person's good opinion so important to you that you would turn your back on a growing relationship to preserve it?"
WIll shook his head again, feeling deflated. What right did he have to come in here acting angry and upset that people knew about their relationship? They only knew that he was involved with Hannibal. They had no way of knowing what actually went on behind closed doors.
They couldn't know that behind those doors, he was defiled, violated -- and that he loved every second of it, that he never wanted it to end.
Nobody knew that he was owned, that he had given himself body and soul to Hannibal Lecter, in every way possible. Nobody could know about that -- if they did, then he would more than likely lose his job, and he scorned as some kind of pervert.
He didn't want anyone knowing about what Hannibal did to him.
That knowledge was between the two of them, something that no one else had a right to. It was their shared secret, their private property. If anyone else were to find out about the things he and Hannibal indulged in, his world would fall apart.
"Then stop caring about what anyone else might think, Will." Hannibal's voice was deceptively gentle; Will knew that those words hid a will of steel behind their soft exterior. "And if what they think is so important to you, well then, perhaps we should give them something to know about."
Will's eyes widened as Hannibal got up from behind his desk, moving around it to stand in front of Will, a wolfish smile on his face. Will knew that look. Hannibal only looked like that when he intended for something to happen between them, something intimate.
Something that would usually be painful and pleasurable at the same time. Something Will hated to admit that he would enjoy, but he did.
"Come, William." Hannibal held out his hand, his voice firm. "I think we should go upstairs."
Will had no choice but to take Hannibal's hand, to surrender himself to whatever it was that the other man wanted. He had long since learned that it was impossible for him to refuse Hannibal; whatever this man wanted to do to him, he would accept it, even welcome it with open arms.
And if everybody knew, then there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.
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