But their downs often turned violent. They would joke that they'd "be the death of" each other.
Until, one day, it happened.
Hannibal wasn't careful enough.
He only meant it to be a superficial wound, then they would make up, and he'd patch up his beautiful boy once more.
But it wasn't to be.
Will's blood poured from him as Hannibal held him close, trying to keep him inside himself where he would be safe.
Will breathed his last on the kitchen floor.
Hannibal would spend a lot of time at the cemetery. Needed to be close to his beloved.
But his arms needed to hold someone, his lips to touch soft lips again.
He needed a Will, in body if not in mind.
He seduced Alana, hoping her dark hair and soft skin would make his arms, and bed, feel less empty.
But Will's presence made him know that she wasn't the right fit.
Alana suspected something wasn't quite right with Hannibal, and after tormenting herself to work out the right course of action, she decided to confront him.
Alana's life ended on the front stoop of Hannibal's house.
She hadn't been enough to be his Will.
But he wouldn't give up.
Fleeing to Europe to avoid repercussions for Alana's death, he met a young man with features similar enough to Will as that he could take him from behind and almost imagine it was his love writhing in front of him.
But it didn't last. The younger man prattled on and on.
Far too much for Hannibal to filter him out.
He turned him into a shrine to the one he lost, placed in the chapel where Hannibal had proposed to Will with a ring hidden in an origami heart.
Would he ever be happy again? Would anyone be able to fill the empty space in his heart?
He was losing hope when a young investigator came knocking.
She was very different from Will, but reminded Hannibal of him all the same. Perhaps she could become his Will, in time?
He would need to keep her safe while he worked on moulding her to fit his needs.
He put her away, delicately, lovingly. He didn't want to hurt her. He was sure she would understand.
But she couldn't tell him if she did, as he took her tongue first.
Piece by piece, he would make this young thing into a form deserving of Will's legacy.
Carving her like marble.
He would take his time.
He would find his Will in her, no matter how deep he had to dig. |end|
The noises coming from Hannibal were obscene, moaning, growling and begging. Begging to be fucked, deeper, harder. Telling Will to make sure he'd be able to feel that he'd been properly fucked for days.
Will's passion, and as he pounded into his love's tight hole over and over, he knew he wasn't going to last long.
"Fuck, Hannibal-ah!" he exclaimed as a judder wracked Hannibal's body, making him clench tighter around Will. "I'm going to fill you up real soon, you feel so +
unbelievably good around my cock, you're taking it so well, so fucking sexy..."
Will trailed off into a string of nonsense words interspersed with gasps of the older man's name and a handful of expletives. With one hand on Hannibal's shoulder and the other clutching a handful+
|NSFW, Hannigram, hot filthy post-hunt fuck| {part 1}
Lots of couples have Date Night. Some couples have their designated Sex Night.
Will and Hannibal have Hunt Night.
Let's be realistic though - with these two, there's no such thing as it just being a 'night'.
Oh no. +
It begins with the idea. No concrete details yet, just an idea of who their next playmate might be. Where they might find them. The manner in which they will meet their end.
Just some light stuff.
For Will and Hannibal, this is the flirtation.
Next, the tableau. +
What would they do with them? Which parts would they bring home in a doggy-bag? What misleading 'clues' could they leave for Uncle Jack and the Science Husbands?
Think of this as dinner and a movie.
And then the details. Oh, the details. Lists of items required to +
I used to read. Prolifically. My reading levels were off the charts through school and I always had a book with me. My dad handed me his mostly-unread Stephen King collection when I was 8 because I was always needing another book to read.
Horror, sci-fi, some fantasy, I
absorbed it.
I had my kids in my early 20s and it was like I'd pushed out my attention span. Aside from the obvious time constraints associated with babies, I just struggled to concentrate on anything. I even tried reading lighter, chick-lit type stuff but nope, no use.
I'm 38 now and haven't really read for pleasure for at least 15 years. I've bought a few over that time, generally titles that a movie or series I enjoyed was based on in the hope that would make it more appealing. But no.
Then earlier this year, I discovered Hannibal and fell