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Title: Sweet Poison
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: narrative_x_10
Prompt: Story 07
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.


He hadn't thought he would get lost like this.

But then, when he'd first met Hannibal Lecter, Will hadn't realized what kinds of temptations the other man would hold out to him. He hadn't known that Hannibal would be so seductive, and that he would be drawn so inexorably into his orbit.

He hadn't known that Hannibal's particular brand of poison would be so unutterably sweet, or that he would become so addicted to it.

There had been so much that he hadn't known at the beginning -- and now that he did know, he still wasn't backing away. He was forging deeper and deeper into the unknown, letting Hannibal be his guide, that sweet poison swirling through his veins.

What was it about Hannibal that drew him ever closer to the other man, in spite of the fact that he couldn't help feeling Hannibal was in some way dangerous to him? He simply couldn't stay away; he was utterly captivated, mesmerized, fascinated.

The truth was, he didn't want to back away from Hannibal.

This man gave him a sweet release that he had never known with anyone else; Hannibal knew him in a way that no one else ever had, or ever could. Will seriously doubted that he would have been able to give himself to anyone else so utterly and completely.

He had been terrified the first time they'd been together, but Hannibal had managed to soothe his fears -- and when the initial pain had morphed into exquisite pleasure, Will had given himself to Hannibal, body and soul, knowing that he would never turn back.

He shouldn't keep seeing Hannibal; he knew that. They could both suffer for it professionally; Hannibal could lose his license to practice psychiatry if they were caught together.

But the danger was part of what made their relationship so delicious -- the forbidden aspect of it was one of the things that had him coming back for more. That, and the sweet poison that Hannibal poured through him every time they made love.

He had become addicted to that poison so quickly, so easily.

There was no turning back now, and he knew it. There was no escape from the sticky threads of the web that Hannibal had ensnared him in. And to be honest, Will told himself with a wry smile, he didn't want a way out. He wanted to stay right where he was.

He'd been thinking of Hannibal as a spider, and himself as the fly caught in that spider's web, for quite a while now. It was hard not to see them in that light, though he hoped that Hannibal wasn't going to turn out to be a black widow.

He knew that his lover was a dangerous man, knew that Hannibal's poison could be deadly. But that poison was like nectar to him; he couldn't stop himself from flitting as close as he possibly could to sip from that sweet well, even though he knew he shouldn't.

Will was playing with fire, and he was well aware of that fact. He knew that he would eventually be singed, even burned. But it didn't seem to matter.

All that mattered was what he and Hannibal shared, what this man gave him that no one else could. He was hooked; he was like a junkie who craved the next fix. Hannibal was his poison of choice, his drug. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't turn away.

Was he in love? That was a question that he couldn't answer.

He'd never really understood what being in love meant. He'd thought he was in love a few times when he was younger; once with a woman, twice with men. But he had never been able to let himself get close enough to them, emotionally or physically, to find out.

Will grimaced at those memories, pushing them away as quickly as he could. He'd always had a problem with intimacy; he didn't like to think about the times when he hadn't been able to let anyone in behind the walls he kept wrapped protectively around himself.

Hannibal was the only person who had ever really managed to breach those walls. No one else had even cared enough to try.

He supposed that in a way, he did love Hannibal. He loved that sweet poison that Hannibal gave him; he couldn't deny that. But loving what he and Hannibal did together, loving the physical sensations, wasn't the same as loving the man.

He couldn't deny that he cared for Hannibal. But caring wasn't love.

It was so hard to fathom just what his feelings were. They weren't easy to sort through; he'd realized from the very beginning of this dangerous relationship that keeping his feelings compartmentalized wasn't going to be easy to do.

It wasn't just hard, it was downright impossible, he thought wryly. Hannibal had permeated so many areas of his life that sometimes it was hard to tell where his professional relationship with the other man ended, and the personal relationship began.

That in itself was dangerous. He should know better than to let his personal life intersect with his work. He knew that could only lead to disaster in the end.

But it had been impossible to keep the two apart. Hannibal slid so seamlessly into the pages of his life, both in the personal and professional realms, spreading his insidious poison into both. He was as natural a part of Will's life at this point as every breath he took.

Life without Hannibal wouldn't be a life worth living.

He couldn't imagine not being with Hannibal. Their encounters had become necessary to him; he'd opened himself up completely to the other man, to the point where not being able to do so would make him feel as though he was locked in a prison of his own making.

He had never felt that way before Hannibal had brought him out into the light, Will told himself with a soft sigh. He'd always thought that he was perfectly willing to stay locked within himself, to stay behind the walls he'd kept up for so long.

But Hannibal had made those walls come crumbling to the ground. Hannibal was his protection now; if he lost Hannibal, then he would be vulnerable, helpless, exposed.

Losing Hannibal was not in the cards. It was simply something that couldn't be allowed to happen. Losing his lover would mean losing that sweet poison that he so relied on, that poison that flowed through both of their veins and connected the two of them.

He knew that Hannibal was poison. He knew that he shouldn't be so dependent on the other man. But he had thrown caution to the winds the first time he had surrendered to Hannibal; really, he'd done that from the first time they'd touched.

There was no turning back now. He was too far gone.

Hannibal's poison was in him, a part of him, and he didn't want it taken away. He didn't want to lose that honeyed sweetness that he constantly craved more of.

It wasn't in his nature to need anyone. He'd always been proud of the fact that he had made it to where he was on his own, with no one's help. He had always clung to his independence, wanting to feel that he didn't need anyone in his life.

But he did need Hannibal. He had accepted that from the first time they had been together, when Hannibal had taken his virginity and first filled him with that sweet poison, making him wonder how he had ever managed to live without it.

He had never thought that he would get lost inside that well of poison -- or that he would willingly stay lost, not wanting to come up for air.

Hannibal had completely taken him over, and he didn't resent that fact. He only wanted to get even more lost in the enigma that was his lover; he wanted to submerge himself in that poison, to drown in it, to let it overwhelm him to the point where he could never be found again.

It was self-destructive. It was emotional suicide. But he didn't care.

All he cared about was being given another dose of that sweet poison, losing himself in it, losing himself in Hannibal. The next fix couldn't come quickly enough, and when it did, Will knew that he would be waiting for it, begging for it, and that he would receive it with open arms.