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Title: Still Life
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
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 bounded up the steps to Hannibal's front door, hesitating before he raised his hand to knock. Hannibal was expecting him, of course -- he could simply open the door and go right in, as he was fairly sure that Hannibal hadn't locked the door.
But somehow, that didn't feel right. Even though he was here for a psychiatric session, it felt like more -- and he wanted tonight to be more than just talking.
He wanted Hannibal to take him to bed.
If he was honest with himself, he wanted Hannibal to do everything he'd been doing in that very erotic dream he'd had last night. He even -- and this shocked him even as he thought of it -- wanted Hannibal to tie him down while he was being pleasured.
Will blinked, more than a little shocked at himself. Where had that thought come from? He'd never enjoyed the feeling of being bound and helpless before.
But he was finding that Hannibal had the power to change his mind about a lot of things, to keep his senses swirling until he was no longer sure just what he wanted. It was a little frightening, but at the same time, it was exhilarating to let of so many inhibitions.
It was still hard to believe that last night had actually happened, though when he'd come downstairs this morning after his show, the proof had been right there.
The scent of sweet Williams pervaded his house -- and his mind.
When he'd left the house that morning, there had been another bouquet of flowers by the front door -- he could only assume that Hannibal had been there, probably while he was in the shower, and had decided to simply leave the flowers by the door rather than come in.
He'd read the note with a smile, though it hadn't been written in Hannibal's handwriting. "Sweet scents for the sweet. I'll see you soon, sweet William."
It didn't matter that Hannibal hadn't written the note; it was enough to know that he'd brought over even more flowers. It almost made what they had seem like an odd kind of courtship; that thought made Will's heart pound, thumping in his chest almost painfully.
What did he have with Hannibal? They weren't in love. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't make himself think that. It was an odd kind of desire, one that consisted of more lust than emotion -- though some sort of emotion might be gaining ground.
All he knew was that he needed Hannibal, in a way that he'd never expected to need anyone. That need wasn't sexual so much as .... emotional.
Will sighed, raising his hand to knock. He had to put these thoughts aside.
He had to act as though he and Hannibal were nothing more than a doctor and a patient, at least for tonight. But that was going to be hard to do when knowing that Hannibal had sent him more flowers -- and had more than likely been thinking about him all day -- made his heart sing.
He shouldn't be this happy. He should be disturbed that he'd let someone get this close to him. He should be backing away, not advancing step by measured step.
In some ways, Hannibal frightened him. He could sense a darkness in the other man; there was something just beneath the surface, something the could sense but not quite touch, something that always made him uneasy when he looked into Hannibal's eyes.
But the man was endlessly fascinating. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't back away. Not now. Not when they were becoming so close.
If he backed away now, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.
Why was that? he asked himself. Was he starting to develop stronger feelings for Hannibal than he'd thought he would? He didn't want to say that he was in love; that was ridiculous. Love was much more than what he felt; this had its roots planted firmly in lust.
Lust and fascination, a compulsion to find out more about Hannibal, to uncover those dark secrets that he just knew were hidden behind that polished exterior.
He stepped back as Hannibal opened the door, his eyes widening. He'd been lost in his own thoughts, not paying attention to what was going on around him. He seemed to do that more and more lately, as he sank more deeply into the world that Jack had thrust him into.
"Hello, Will," Hannibal said, stepping back to let Will enter the house. "You're a bit early, but that's not a problem. I didn't have any other plans for the evening." He closed the door behind Will, locking it, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet.
Will didn't know why that lock clicking into place sounded so ominous.
Silently, he followed Hannibal to the office, glancing around him as he did. For some reason, Hannibal's house always reminded him of a painting, a still life that never seemed to change .It was almost like the setting for a play, rather than someone's actual life.
Hannibal waited for him to take a seat before leaning against the desk, studying him, his head tilted to the side. "I think we have a lot to talk about tonight," he said softly, his gaze seeking Will's. "You look as though you're disturbed about something, Will."
How could he tell Hannibal just what he was disturbed about? It wasn't as though either of them wanted to talk about their physical relationship. It wasn't a comfortable subject.
"I-I don't know about that," Will stammered, wishing that he could think of something to say, anything that would ease the tension he felt.
Hannibal was watching him so intently, that slight frown between his brows. And all he could think of when he looked at the other man was how badly he wanted to be in Hannibal's bed, to be naked under him, for the two of them to be physically close with no barriers between them.
It was unnerving. The overwhelming desire he felt was more than a little scary.
"Thanks for the flowers you sent this morning," he managed to say, trying to keep his tone light. "It's not like I needed any more, but it was a nice gesture."
Hannibal's frown grew more pronounced, the room seeming to darken around him. And suddenly Will knew that he'd said the wrong thing, that he'd opened up some new Pandora's box that was going to unleash all kinds of trouble around them.
The room seemed even more like a still life painting, the two of them staring at each other, Will holding his breath and waiting for Hannibal to say something.
"I didn't send you more flowers, Will." The words were quiet, falling into the silence of the room like stones plopping into the smooth, still water of a calm lake, sending out ripples. "Whoever did that, it wasn't me. It seems as though you might have another .... admirer."
Will blinked, thinking of the words that had been written on the card. "I'll see you soon, sweet William." Had that been a promise -- or a threat?
If Hannibal hadn't sent those flowers, then who had? Was he being targeted in some way? Did someone know about his relationship with Hannibal?
An icy chill trickled down his spine, making him shiver. Suddenly, there was a third figure added to their still life tableau, and he had no idea who it was, or why they were there. Too many questions were suddenly looming large in his mind, blocking out everything else.
Will didn't think he was going to like the answers.
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