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Title: Take Another View
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 glanced towards the closed door with a sigh, wishing that he could have thought of something to say to keep Hannibal in the room. They needed to talk, and he knew that the longer they put it off, the more awkward that talk would be, at least for him.
Distance only seemed to make his tongue get tied in more knots than usual. And he was already so tongue-tied that he didn't think he could speak even if he wanted to.
Not that it would do any good, as Hannibal had already left. Once again, he'd screwed up the chance for any kind of meaningful discourse between them.
He seemed to have a bad habit of doing that.
He stood up slowly, reaching for his jeans where he'd left them on the floor near the bed. He hadn't had time to fold up his clothes when he'd taken them off; Hannibal had come to him more quickly than he'd thought he would. There hadn't seemed to be much time for anything.
He wanted the two of them to be able to sit down and talk, to discuss just what their relationship was and what they meant to each other. But again, there didn't seem to be time for that, either. All of their moments so far had felt as though they were stolen, snatched out of thin air.
This wasn't the way he wanted his relationship with Hannibal to be.
He wanted the two of them to have something that at least approached normalcy. It was strange enough to realize that he was involved with his psychiatrist.
Will slowly pulled his jeans on, then reached for his shirt, shrugging into it and reaching for the buttons. As he did so, he turned towards the far side of the room, searching for a mirror, hoping that he wouldn't see that he looked as though he'd just been thoroughly fucked.
His eyes widened as they rested on the painting of him that Hannibal had done, in all its glory, hanging next to the mirror. He hadn't expected to see it here.
But really, where else would Hannibal put it? In his office? In his house, where it could be seen?
No, he wasn't the kind of man to display something like this so ostentatiously. It made sense that he would have it here in his bedroom, where he could look at it whenever he chose to and know that it was free from any prying, judgmental eyes.
It really was a beautiful painting; he had to admit that. Somehow, Hannibal had managed to capture him in one of those rare moments when he felt as peace with who he was.
The man in the painting was at ease with his body and with his sexuality, comfortable in his own skin. Will had never felt like that -- he was always stumbling over his own feet, awkward, feeling as though he was at odds with his own body, fumbling along in the dark.
He'd thought that feeling would go away as he grew older, but it never had. In some ways, it had only become more pronounced; he was never really comfortable with himself, and because of that, he never felt comfortable with other people, either.
The only person he truly felt comfortable around was .... Hannibal.
Will felt a smile tug at the corners of his life at that realization. Most people were distinctly nervous around Hannibal, but he never had been. There was something about the other man that felt .... well, comforting, in an odd way. He'd never really thought about it.
And, of course, there was the desire that flowed so freely between them, a desire that he'd never felt for anyone else. A desire that was often overwhelming.
Will frowned, stepping closer to the painting and studying it. He'd never noticed before just how Hannibal had painted him -- completely smooth, as though his body was a marble statue. There were no dark curls at the apex of his thighs, no shadows of hair on his legs.
Was that how Hannibal saw him? As being smooth and .... perfect?
Hannibal knew better than that. They'd been intimate; Hannibal was aware of all the imperfections of his body. Yet he'd painted him as being something of a Greek god -- celebrating his masculinity and his sexuality, his body on display, comfortable with himself and his surroundings.
Maybe it was time for him to take another view of himself -- and of the way that Hannibal saw him. If this was what Hannibal wanted, maybe it was up to him to make some changes, to try to meet the other man halfway and give him what he seemed to desire.
It might be time to take another view of everything about himself, really. If he was going to be with Hannibal, he couldn't keep feeling as though he was unworthy.
That wasn't the kind of attitude a man like Hannibal would put up with for long. He would become bored with it, and he would seek out someone who was more confident, someone who didn't question every step he took, someone who was a perfect match for him.
He might not be that perfect match, but he was sure as hell going to try to be.
Will finished buttoning his shirt, running a hand though his hair and wishing that he had a brush. He looked disheveled, as though .... well, as though he'd just had a tumble in bed.
Which he had. And which, against all odds, he'd actually enjoyed.
He had never thought that he would like being held down, feeling helpless to stop whatever was being done to him. It wasn't something he had wanted, but somehow, when it was Hannibal holding him down and doing things to him, it wasn't as frightening.
It had been an odd feeling, somewhere between pleasure and pain, between fear and euphoria. All of those sensations had swirled together, until he couldn't tell one from the other.
He wanted to feel that again. But the next time Hannibal tied him down, he wanted it to be with his consent, so he could prepare himself for what was coming.
Will had to laugh ruefully at that thought, shaking his head as he moved toward the door. Hannibal wasn't going to allow him to take control, not in any way. If there was anything this evening had shown him loud and clear, it was that one simple fact.
He would either have to get used to it and learn to like it, or he would have to back away.
No, he couldn't do that. Hannibal had become to important a part of his life to back away now, when their relationship was starting to take a turn in the direction that Will wanted it to go. If that relationship came with a few conditions, well, he could live with that.
Maybe it wouldn't be easy, but he would deal with it one step at a time. After all, Hannibal wouldn't hurt him. That was one thing he knew with absolute certainty.
It was time to take another view of his entire life, to evaluate what was working in it and what wasn't. It was past time for him to make some changes, to decide what direction he wanted his life to take, to discard the old and useless and turn towards the future.
Hannibal was his future. Hannibal was the fixed point that he knew he would always gravitate towards; nothing was ever going to change that fact.
Will glanced at the painting once more before he opened the door, letting his gaze roam over it. The subject matter could still bring a blush to his cheeks, but if that was the way Hannibal saw him, then he would accept it -- and be proud.
He had nothing to be ashamed of, after all. Hannibal had made him look beautiful -- and desirable. And there was an emotion behind that depiction, an emotion that almost seemed ... loving.
Will shook his head. He didn't want to think along those lines. Not yet.
He didn't want to decode whatever emotion Hannibal had felt when he'd painted. He wasn't sure if he was ready to accept being loved, if that was indeed the emotion at play here. It would make him take yet another view of his life, and the relationship he was getting into.
He wasn't ready for that intense scrutiny. Not now. But he was going to start making changes in his life. Positive ones. Starting today.
Will walked out of Hannibal's bedroom without looking back, descending the stairs and heading directly for the front door. He didn't see Hannibal again as he left -- but the other man saw him, his dark gaze following Will outside and watching intently as he drove away.
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