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Title: Color Within the Lines
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Prompt: #5, In the kitchen
Author's Note: Sequel to "We Might As Well Be Strangers."
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 walked slowly down the steps, hesitating more and more as he approached the bottom. Once he got there, then he would have to go into the kitchen, and he still didn't know what to say to Hannibal. He couldn't see a way around the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
What was he going to say? It wasn't as though he was good at bringing up the subject of sex or relationships, and this involved both.
He had no idea what Hannibal was going to say or do; that was one of the most disconcerting things about his lover. Hannibal always seemed to wear a mask that there was no seeing behind; he only removed it once in a while. The rest of the time, it was firmly in place.
Will desperately needed to see behind that mask. He needed it to be ripped off entirely, for Hannibal to lay his feelings and his desires bare. Those desires had been in plain view last night, but Will didn't doubt that they would be hidden again this morning.
Hannibal wasn't the kind of man who let his inner feelings show.
Usually, he wasn't either, Will thought with a soft sigh, taking another step closer to the bottom of the long staircase. But for once, he wanted to let his feelings out. He wanted to make them plain -- even simple, if that was possible, though emotions were never simple for him.
He wanted to know where they were going, if they had a future. If they didn't, then there was really no need in taking this any further.
He had to make that clear to Hannibal, that he wasn't going to stick around unless he had some kind of assurance that the two of them were .... what? Dating? A couple? They were already lovers in the physical sense; what more did he need?
As long as he had some kind of assurance from Hannibal that last night hadn't only been a one-night stand, then everything would be all right. He just needed to know that he wasn't some kind of toy for Hannibal, a plaything to be used once and then tossed away.
He'd reached the bottom of the stairs now; slowly, Will turned nad headed for the kitchen, his feet dragging. He didn't really want to confront Hannibal, but he knew that he had no choice. He had to get answers, and he had to have them as soon as possible.
Hannibal was, as he thought, in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.
Will stopped and stared at the man who had become his lover last night, unable to tear his eyes from what he saw. Hannibal was the most graceful man he had ever seen.
Why would a man like this want him? Will asked himself for what felt like the hundredth time. The man in front of him exuded confidence and capability; Hannibal didn't need someone who was uncomfortable and awkward in their own body.
What had brought them together? Was it mere desire, to be assuaged after one night and written off as no more than a bit of fun and games? Or was it something more, a bond that they'd forged, something within them both that called to each other?
Whatever it was, he was feeling it now. All he wanted to do was take a few steps forward until he was right in front of Hannibal -- and then be swept into the other man's arms, Hannibal's hands on his body, those lips on his, surrendering himself to desire.
Hannibal was so close -- yet he suddenly seemed unbearably far away.
Without realizing that he was doing so, Will took one step forward into the kitchen, then another. Hannibal hadn't seen him yet, but in just a moment he would turn around and ....
"Good morning, Will." Hannibal spoke without turning around; apparently, he had known that Will was there even before he'd taken those tentative steps forward. "I hope you like bacon and eggs. That is what I usually have for breakfast, and I didn't particularly want to change my routine."
"That sounds great," Will murmured. He didn't know what else to say. He usually at standing up at his kitchen counter; breakfast was generally either a bowl of cereal, or, if he felt really adventurous and hadn't gotten up late, he'd actually make toast.
He wasn't used to sitting down at the kitchen table with a man who had just taken his virginity the night before. He felt more awkward than he'd expected to, but apparently, Hannibal didn't feel the same way, judging from the smile on his face when he finally turned around.
That smile told him that he was more than just a one-night stand. He had to be. Hannibal couldn't look at him with that kind of hunger, that kind of desire, and not intend to be with him again.
The look on his lover's face made Will's knees go weak; he wanted Hannibal to throw him down on the floor, or the table, or wherever he wanted, and have him again. He didn't care if it wouldn't be comfortable; right now, all he wanted was Hannibal inside him again.
He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts back into some semblance of sanity.
Of course that wasn't going to happen; Hannibal wasn't the kind of man who did things like that on the spur of the moment. The next time they were together -- which Will hoped wouldn't be long -- they would be in bed again, where they would both be comfortable.
Still, he wouldn't mind finding out just what Hannibal would do if the opportunity for something more .... well, unconventional presented itself. The idea of being taken on the couch in the office, or on the carpet, of hell, even on the table in the kitchen, somehow seemed incredibly appealing.
Would Hannibal do something like that? Or would be say that there was a time and a place for everything, and that he preferred to color within the lines?
No, he wouldn't, Will decided, studying the other man as Hannibal expertly scrambled the eggs and turned the bacon over in the frying pan. Hannibal wasn't the kind of man who bowed to convention; it was one of the things about him that Will found so exciting.
If only Hannibal would take him upstairs now and forget about breakfast ....
Will's stomach rumbled loudly, putting the lie to that thought. His eyes widened as Hannibal turned around, his brows raised, that slight smile still curving his lips. Will wanted nothing more than to stand up, walk the few steps that separated them, and kiss Hannibal.
But he didn't. He stayed right where he was, offering the other man an apologetic smile. "I think my stomach just betrayed me, didn't it?"
"Just as your body did last night," Hannibal murmured, the words making a blush rise to Will's cheeks. He hadn't realized that his desire, his need for Hannibal, had been so obvious. But it was obvious that he couldn't keep anything hidden from this man.
Being here in the kitchen with Hannibal felt so .... intimate, almost as intimate as they'd been last night, when there were no physical barriers between them. There was a new layer to their relationship, one that Will found intriguing.
Their intimacy would only grow from here, Will told himself, a feeling of contentment sweeping over him. The ice had been broken. There was nowhere to go but forward.
Suddenly, nothing about this new relationship felt awkward at all.
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