Chapter Text
He could hear the heavy, deliberate fall of footsteps before he closed the door behind him; a warning, a chance to run or - at the very least - prepare himself. But Will Graham made no move to do either and instead boldly locked the deadbolt behind him as Hannibal appeared from the hallway.
His eyes looked crimson, his face like stone, save for a tight furl on his upper lip that twitched as he came to stop in front of him. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the fine cloth around the buttonholes uncharacteristically wrinkled.
“Where did you go, Will?”
His voice was low and calm but brimming with a fury that was bubbling underneath.
“Out,” Will said simply. “Like I said I was.”
Hannibal’s upper lip twitched again.
“As I specifically asked you not to,” he said. “As I forbade you.”
The air around them vibrated as Will’s disbelieving laughter broke though it.
“As you forbade me?” he repeated incredulously.
Though his words were bold and sure, Will found himself unable to move past Hannibal who was barring his way into the rest of the house. They’d been on the run together for nearly two years, long since healed from the physical wounds they’d endured the night that Will had taken them over the cliff, but still struggling with the internal workings of their relationship.
Through an initial mutual desire and a following strategic necessity they’d barely spent a moment apart from one another since they’d crawled out of the Atlantic.
As they’d kept moving from city to city, country to country, the crumbling walls of any final barriers between them had disintegrated at their feet. What had started as sleepy, casual embraces had transgressed into waking touches, caresses, kisses, and the pushing and pulling of naked flesh.
Though Will had found himself to be more content and satisfied than he had ever been before, he slowly found himself missing his home in Wolf Trap - missing quiet nights alone with the dogs. Hannibal, on the other hand, had found himself growing more and more accustomed to having Will constantly at his side; and more and more reluctant to be apart from him.
Now, somewhere in Romania, in a city Will had given up on trying to pronounce, Hannibal had become convinced that they’d been recognized and Will had felt the walls closing in around him. As the days passed - as Hannibal made arrangements for them to move yet again - Will felt himself going crazy.
The moment Hannibal had left his side, he’d gone out the door and walked in the cool night air until he could feel the world opening up to him again. And now as he faced the wrath of the man in front of him, Will found himself bolstered by the clarity.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled. “I went for a fucking walk, Hannibal. I went for a fucking walk.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” Hannibal said through clenched teeth. “As I am also sure that you both heard and processed my request for you not to leave the house until I could arrange for us to be on our way.”
“Oh, it’s back to being a request now?” Will said. “Not a fucking command.”
Hannibal averted his gaze for moment, exhaling, before he came back to focus on him. Will knew that Hannibal hated when he used language like that - he found it “uncivilized”. And Hannibal knew in that moment that Will absolutely was doing it on purpose.
“Will,” Hannibal said, forcing his voice to be smoother. “Understand that that request was not selfish. There is a real possibility that we’ve been recognized - ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Will interrupted. “I know, just spare me. Okay? Can you do that doctor Lecter? Can you just fucking give it a rest for a second?”
Hannibal’s mouth tightened again and his fingers came to dance on the sides of his thighs.
“Look, I understand,” Will relented. “And I’m sorry, but I had to get out of here for a second. I needed to clear my head. It’s not like I went screaming naked through the streets.”
“That isn’t the point, Will,” Hannibal said. “If that man knew who we were then he undoubtedly followed us and has potentially made his way to this area. Perhaps he has already contacted the FBI. It is tremendously irresponsible of you to risk our freedom - yours and mine - for an evening stroll.”
Exasperated, Will brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes before violently throwing his arms back down.
“Hannibal, I’m not a fucking idiot,” he said, his voice boarding on yelling. “Have you magically fucking forgotten that I worked for the goddamn FBI? That I’ve spent time in prison? Surely you remember that little stint in my timeline.”
Will paused to cock his eyebrow.
“Do you think that’s a life I’m eager to return to?” he continued. “I know what I’m doing. I just needed to get out of this house.”
“Will-”
“Don’t! Just stop!” Will said, fully yelling now. “I don’t want to hear anymore! I did it, it’s over, it happened! I’m not your fucking prisoner.”
Even with his clearheaded confidence, Will found himself stepping backwards as Hannibal approached him now, stopping when his back hit the door. Hannibal’s face was inches from his own and when he spoke, it was deep and deadly serious.
“Do not insult me, Will.”
Hannibal’s chest was heaving and Will could smell the heat coming off his body.
“Get away from me,” he said, his voice pushed back down to a near whisper. “Hannibal, get away from me.”
But he could tell from the look in his eyes that Hannibal wasn’t going anywhere. He was furious and, worse, disparaged.
Will looked into his eyes and saw nothing of the man he’d grown accustomed to waking up next to; this was the same obsidian demon that had haunted him for years. Placing a hard palm flat against Hannibal’s chest, Will pushed at him and found him to be unmovable.
Again, he pushed - harder - and faced the same result.
With two hands flat against him now Will shoved with everything he had in him, with all the slight buildup he could muster with the door at his back, and found Hannibal’s bare feet move slightly as the older man’s hands wrapped around his wrists painfully.
“Hannibal, get the fuck off of me!”
When no release came, Will drove his shoulder down into Hannibal’s chest and bent his leg back until he felt the sole of his shoe hit the door. With everything he had in him he pushed off and hurled his weight into Hannibal which sent them both crashing to the hard wood of the floor.
It would have made Will laugh in triumph if it hadn’t knocked the wind out of him.
Hannibal’s arms were tight around him as his back hit the floor, keeping Will locked against him. Will managed to maneuver his right arm into a bend and drove his elbow down into Hannibal’s ribs as hard as he could, struggling to find purchase with his lower body and eventually settling a knee in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling his upper body up and away from him.
It wasn’t but a moment before Hannibal’s hands were back on him, grabbing hard at his arms as his legs snaked up and around Will’s body to throw him off.
Will had youth on his side but it was negated when faced with Hannibal’s experience and additional weight.
He was on his back before he could register that he was losing the dominant position. Hannibal had the full weight of his body pushed into the top of Will’s thighs, his wrists pinned on either side of his head.
The panting of Will’s breath bounced off the walls; above him, Hannibal’s face was flushed but he showed no other signs of fatigue or struggle.
For a brief moment, Will considering spitting in his face.
“Do you feel like a prisoner, Will?” Hannibal asked, pushing his weight harder into him.
Under him, Will rocked his hips up in an attempt to dislodge him. The vice grip around his wrists tightened again and he could feel his skin throbbing through the shackles of Hannibal’s fingers.
“Maybe this isn’t the best time to ask me that considering I can’t fucking move.”
Without warning one of his wrists was released as Hannibal’s newly freed hand came to wrap around his throat. The hold there wasn’t as punishing as the one on his wrist had been, but it was tight enough that Will’s hand shot up and worked briefly to pull at his fingers before giving up and grabbing at Hannibal’s forearm, his thumb pressing against the horizontal scar there.
“Enough of that,” Hannibal said, the malice easing from his voice.
Will’s Adam’s Apple bobbed under Hannibal’s grip as he felt the fight go out of him; the fire that had enveloped his entire body only moments before was being replaced by a rolling storm that extinguished the flames but not without bringing its own chaos.
“Ask me nicely.”
The crimson that had punctuated Hannibal’s eyes was gone, replaced by a familiar warm brown. The grip on Will’s throat and wrist loosened but did not entirely leave as Hannibal pushed himself down into him again, coming to rest their foreheads together.
“Please, Will."
As their mouths came together with a force that bordered on the violence of before, Will found a laughter building in his chest; there were probably more healthy ways to deal with frustration and anger but then again, their relationship wasn’t exactly the prototype of tradition.
Hannibal’s hand slid from his throat to the side of his face as his other fell away from Will's wrist, Will’s newly freed hand coming to grab at the hair behind Hannibal’s neck. Around them the air crackled with thunder and smelled of impending rain. The floor was hard and uncomfortable against Will’s back, made more unforgiving by Hannibal’s weight, but even as he grimaced he wrapped his arms tighter to pull him down closer, harder.
Hannibal’s mouth was hot against his throat, teeth digging in and lips sucking at the purpling flesh. As Will’s hands moved to the belt at Hannibal’s waist he felt the thick drops of rain hit his forehead and hands, soaking every part of him that wasn’t shielded by Hannibal’s body.