Thread by @HesMyDesign

Hannibal could almost taste the relief radiating from Will, his saviour once more, his beautifully fallen angel, his Will, only his. Hannibal's mind repeated the possessive syllable over and over like a chant, both calming and rousing, >

< mine, /mine/, and he shivered with a mixture of a tremor of pain and pure dumbfounded awe at the sight of Will's momentarily frozen form. He looked broken, splintered, shattered, as if part of the death that he had just saved him from had >

< instead latched onto Will and clung on to him viciously - a thought that elicited raw, possessive jealousy from Hannibal; nobody but him was allowed to cling on to Will in such a fierce, lethal way - and yet despite everything he was so >

< beautiful that Hannibal stared at him as if he was indeed a piece of art, power radiating from his cramping muscles and his cracked-open wounds, the sun catching in his damp hair, (Hannibal could not tell whether from sweat, blood or mere >

< sea water,) and the tears streaming down his face heartwrenching and hauntingly beautiful, his own eyes dampening in an echo, tears of awe and relief and an overwhelming multitude of emotions that he was too wrecked to name.
None of it >

< mattered when he felt Will's grip on his shoulders pulling him in, and he grunted in pain as he twisted and stretched the bullet wound in his abdomen, but the pain paled in comparison with the turmoil inside of him, a heavy shudder running >

< over him and making him twitch involuntarily even as he raised his hands and pushed his fingers through his hair, his other arm fastening around his waist as if he were afraid that the flood might come and take Will away from him again. He >

< knew he couldn't have beared to lose him again, not after they had gone into what they thought would be their death together.
His forehead slumped against his shoulder, Hannibal rested there for a moment before the urge for contact grew >

< too strong and he turned his head to breathe his scent in, fingers instantly tightening in those dark curls, gripping him closer and inhaling him like a drug, the familiarity of that damned, faded aftershave and the dogs calming and >

< strengthening him while he still grew more anxious that this undeserved mercy would be taken from them after all. The sea had washed the scent of Will's woman off him, he was his now, the way it should be, was meant to be, the way it would >

< always be from now on. He'd see to that.
His eyes flicked open when Will spoke, a deep and fast intake of breath from Hannibal following those heavenly words. His heart was evidently working just fine again, because now it was pumping with >

< vigour, so hard that he could hear it in his ears, but it wasn't loud enough to overshadow the repetition, those words that made him tremble with restrained longing, pupils dilated as their gazes met. Hannibal had never had the opportunity >

< to see his eyes up close, and now he couldn't help but marvel at the way the colours mixed in his iris, but after a moment he decided that marvelling would have to wait. More pressing matters were at hand, it seemed, what with the urgency >

< with which Will rubbed up against him. His eyes shut in pure enjoyment and he emitted a yearning sigh, leaning in to every little touch of his nose. "I'm here, Will," he whispered, swallowed thickly in an attempt to clear his throat, then >

< spoke more clearly, voice trembling with emotion, "I've got you. I'm yours." His fingers had started tracing soft circles onto Will's scalp, but now they stilled, the fear of rejection clenching his heart like an especially vicious >

< instrument of torture from his exhibit in Florence, even now that Will was so clearly offering his affections.
Perhaps it was the proximity of death that drove him, or maybe his desire was simply too strong, but after a moment of fearful >

< hesitation, he inhaled and smoothed his palm against the back of his head to cup the soft curve like he had so often dreamed of doing, and with his eyes still closed he leaned in to brush his lips against Will's, a little crease forming on >

< his brow in testament to his yearning, and he slightly tilted his head to press their lips together, still chaste but full of passion.