Title: Pure
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: R
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #496, Purity
Author's Note: One-shot.
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.
***
Hannibal allowed himself a small smile as he paused in the doorway of his bedroom, looking back at the figure that lay sprawled across the dark sheets. Will's pale body almost glistened in the moonlight, the dark bruises on his skin only beginning to be visible.He could stand here and look at Will all night, drinking in the beauty of his body. But he had things to do before he settled beside the younger man for the evening.
Firstly, he wanted to take a shower. Not that fucking Will made him feel dirty -- quite the opposite. But he needed to clear his head after being intoxicated by such intimate contact with the person who had been the focus of his obsessions for quite a while now.
He needed to think about what the future might hold.
Closing the door quietly, so as not to awaken Will, he made his way down the hall to the large master bath, closing that door also before he moved to turn on the shower. Will was still in his mind, the younger man's taste on his tongue.
What was it about Will Graham that he found so .... stimulating? It went beyond the fact that the young man ws the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. It wasn't merely lust that drew him towards Will; it was something more, something that he couldn't explain.
Hannibal shrugged as he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed behind him. He didn't need to put a name to what he shared with Will. It was enough that their relationship existed, and that it was more fulfilling to him than anything else could possibly be.
He even stopped killing for days at a time after each coupling with Will. The young man sated him in a way that even taking a life couldn't manage to do.
What was it about Will that fascinated him so? He really didn't know, but he didn't have to come up with an explanation. It was enough for him to know that he enjoyed Will thoroughly, and that he would continue to do so for quite a long time to come.
Others would probably frown on their relationship, but Hannibal didn't really care what they thought. He and Will were both adults; he hadn't coerced the younger man into his bed. Will had come there willingly, by his own choice. No one could accuse him of using force.
What he had with Will was, in its own way, pure.
He hadn't forced Will into his bed, hadn't taught the young man to enjoy what was done to him. No, Will had come to him of his own free will, and he participated in their carnal acts with unabashed pleasure. He might be a bit hesitant at times, but he always gave in.
Some would say that he abused Will, took advantage of his trust, but Hannibal didn't agree. It wasn't abuse if Will allowed it -- and if he enjoyed it.
Will had gone into this relationship with his eyes open; nothing had been sugarcoated for him. He had known what Hannibal wanted of him, and he had agreed to it. He could choose to turn away if he wanted to; there were no chains holding him in place.
Only the chains that had been forged from his own desire.
Hannibal couldn't hold back a smile at that thought; yes, Will wanted to be here. He doubted that he could hold the young man here if Will didn't want all that passed between them; he might not admit to it, but he craved their union more each time they coupled.
There was a certain purity in what he did to Will when they were together. He felt that he was cleansing the young man of all that he did during his working hours, washing away everything that Will had to see and feel, giving him something else to focus on.
He gave Will feelings to replace the ones that he took in while he was working; he kept Will from falling deeper into the black hole of his subconscious.
There was a purity in tightening his hands on Will's fragile flesh until fresh bruises bloomed on the boy's pale skin; there was a purity in thrusting himself inside Will, hearing Will's moans of pleasure that he couldn't hold back, feeling Will's body tighten around him when he came.
What he shared with Will was pure, in his eyes -- and he wouldn't be surprised if Will viewed it in that way, too. After all, Will was grateful for all that Hannibal did for hm; no one else could give him those sensations, the release that he craved.
He didn't know just what he felt for Will, but it ws something that he'd never experienced before with anyone else. It wasn't love, but it was deeper than friendship.
Whatever that feeling was, it was pure.
It came from somewhere deep within him, some place that he had never accessed before. Maybe some would call it an unhealthy obsession, but for him, it was far more than simply wanting Will. That feeling was as necessary to him as drawing breath.
He needed Will Graham. He needed the purity of what they shared, needed the feelings that only Will had engendered in him. It was a bit disconcerting to realize that he needed another person so much, but he would accept that he did.
Will somehow completed him. He had never felt complete before; it was a new and different sensation from any other that he'd ever known. For the first time in his life, he almost felt content -- though he was sure that it wasn't going to last.
No contentment ever lasted for long, Hannibal told himself sternly, lifting his face to the shower spray and closing his eyes. Will Graham would not always be young and beautiful; there would come a time when he could no longer satisfy Hannibal's appetites.
And when that happened, Will would receive a glorious death at Hannibal's hands. By that time, death would be the only new sensation left for Will to experience.
He would make that death beautiful; he would give his lover all that he could in that final denouément. He would make sure that Will went out of this life with all the passion that they had shared surrounding him, with a death that would be fitting for him.
He didn't know just how he would kill Will; he only knew that it would have to happen eventually. Better that it be at his hands than coming from one of the killers whose eyes Will could see through; better that he receive his end at the hands of someone who could understand him.
Will's death would be pure. He would make certain of that.
Ah, such a death it would be. He didn't know yet exactly how he would dispatch Will, but he was make sure that it was spectacular, a death worthy of the prince that Will was .A death worthy of the man whom Hannibal had chosen, at least for a brief time, as his mate.
There was a purity in death, Hannibal reflected. A true, shining purity that came closer to sex than anything else ever could.
Now there was an idea, he told himself, his lips curving into a smile. Will's death could come during an orgasm; he would never know the difference, never know that the moment of his greatest pleasure would be the moment of his ultimate demise.
Yes, that would be the way to give Will his death. It could come at any time -- but not too soon, Hannibal told himself. He still had so many delicious hours planned with Will, hours that could even span into years. He was nowhere near done with his boy yet. He wouldn't be for a long time.
Death during the little death, completing the circle. Yes, he quite liked that. There was a symmetry to it, a purity that was almost perfection.
Turning off the shower, Hannibal stepped out, reaching for one of the fluffy towels stacked neatly on the countertop by the sink to dry himself off with. He felt refreshed, energized, ready to have his way with Will again. This night was far from over.
He padded silently down the hallway on bare feet, opening the bedroom door and drinking in the sight that met his eyes. Will, looking like an angel bathed in moonlight, sleeping in his bed, his bruised body stretched out on top of the covers like a pagan offering.
Hannibal couldn't resist such purity when it was his for the taking. And he didn't intend to.
***
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