Archive of Our Own

Will was sweating and gasping for air as he stumbled onto the train right before the doors closed in his face. If he had been thirty seconds later the train would've left without him. The hostess gave him a slightly chiding look but directed him to the luggage rack on his correct car after checking his ticket. Will heaved his duffle bag – all of his worldly possessions unceremoniously stuffed inside – onto one of the shelves and breathed a heavy sigh.

The hostess was ushering him down the aisle in preparation for the train beginning its voyage. After slinging his laptop bag more securely over one shoulder, Will looked at the seat number on his ticket and began to make his way down the rows of seats. There were two seats on either side of the aisle and as he continued to stumble along, still trying to catch his breath, Will realized it had to be a sold out trip. Every seat was already occupied.

Near the front of the car Will found the last empty seat, which matched the number on his ticket. He saw that the aisle seat was already taken by a man who looked far too put-together to not be seated in business class. His shoulders were broad, his jaw strong, his hair lightly gelled into place and his suit pristine. The man's eyes were closed and Will didn't want to disturb him so Will did his best to clamour over his seatmate.

Unfortunately the train decided that precise moment to lurch forward and send him tumbling over the other man and into his seat, effectively kicking his knee and stepping on his leather shoe all in one go. Will groaned and clutched a hand to his forehead where it had smacked against the window as he fumbled into his seat, and when he glanced back, he saw that the other man did not look incredibly impressed.

"I'm so sorry," Will spluttered, utterly mortified. Between all the stops scheduled on the route he would be stuck in this seat for almost two full days. He didn't need to make enemies right out of the gate. "I—I can—" his hand wavered between them, unknowing if it would be better or worse for him to brush the dirt from his shoes off where it had coated the man's pant leg.

It seemed that his genuine apology and embarrassment was enough to appease the man, because he captured Will's hand and shook it firmly. "All is forgiven. Doctor Hannibal Lecter, but please call me Hannibal." The smile Will was given was intended to be warm, but it reminded Will of a wolf baring its teeth at passing prey, reminding the skittish creature that if the wolf had been more hungry, safe passage would not have been granted.

"Uh, Will Graham. Will," he amended as he shook Hannibal's hand for the proper number of seconds to be polite before he removed both his hand and gaze. "Sorry again."

"No harm, no foul, as they say," Hannibal said. Will busied himself with pulling his phone and headphones from his bag to shove into his pocket and then push the bag with his laptop and book under the seat in front of him. "You are not fond of eye contact, are you?"

Will's jaw clenched. So Hannibal was that sort of doctor. Lovely. "If you insist on psychoanalyzing me I can assure you that this will not be a pleasant trip." Will had his own fangs to bare, when necessary.

"Apologies," Hannibal sounded sincere but he was still watching Will far too closely for his liking.

Will turned his face away fully to watch the New Orleans train station fall away into the distance as the engine at the front of the train began to pick up speed. They would move relatively slowly throughout more populated areas and to complete other stops along the way, but once they hit countryside the world would glide by beyond the smudged windows.

He hated being as close to people as he was to Hannibal, wedged into their designated train seats. It was too easy to read the tells Will would rather ignore. A messed up kid running away from an abusive home. A cocky man or woman leaving to visit a secret lover or returning to an unsuspecting partner. Will didn't want to see and know these things. He would've driven to Baltimore if he could, alone in his car with the company of his radio, but his car had broken down two weeks before he had gotten the news and decided it was time to pack up and move on.

Hannibal had said nothing further and Will tried to fight it, but the urge to look his seatmate over won out. However, Will was in for a shock when a proper scan of Hannibal's face equated to examining a brick wall. Sure, there were a few obvious clues: the greying in his hair hinting age and a stern line of lips implying a serious disposition. But those were the sorts of things anyone could guess.

Otherwise, Will was clueless about this man. That moment when another mindset should have been intruding on his own but didn't was both relieving and antagonizing. Now Will wanted to know, but he told himself to take it as a blessing and released a freeing sigh.

"I cannot tell if I bore or intrigue you," Hannibal mused aloud, looking at Will out of the corner of his eye. When Will did not glance away again, Hannibal faced him fully. "I would say intrigue by the way your gaze lingers, yet your sigh indicates a puzzle set aside." Will said nothing; he didn't know what to say. "It seems a bit rude to study me and yet not give me the same freedom in return."

Will shivered minutely, though he tried to hide it. There was a warning somewhere in those words. "Normally I'm good at reading people," he explained without delving into too much detail. "I guess it's become habit, so finding someone I can't read catches my attention."

"Definitely not boredom, then," Hannibal sounded pleased by this.

Will ran his fingers through his hair and huffed a laugh as he forced himself to turn back to the window. "Definitely not," he agreed. "But I'll leave you alone."

"On the contrary," Hannibal said jovially. "The book I packed will only take me four hours to complete and I can only sketch for so many additional hours. Meals and sleeping will shave off some more time," he counted on his fingers as if scanning a mental checklist. "But I am not opposed to passing some time with interesting company."

"Travelling alone then?" Will presumed.

"Yes. As are you."

Will didn't bother confirming this because Hannibal had not phrased it as a question. "So do you have a habit of chatting up anyone who happens to sit next to you, or am I just special?"

If he had to pick a word to describe Hannibal's eyes, Will would say they glinted in that moment. "You are most assuredly special."

To Will's horror he felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears heat up. He had been called 'special' for most of his life, but no one else had ever said the word like it was a positive thing before. "Look, I don't mean to be rude," he treaded carefully. He could read little to no hints from Hannibal's face, and Will had a distinct impression that the ones he could read were purposefully revealed. But his gut was screaming predator and Will just wanted to survive the train trip. "I just have a terrible headache from smacking my head and I think I'll just listen to music for a while."

"Very well," Hannibal inclined his head in agreement. "Though if you need I would be happy to examine you to ensure there is no serious damage. I was a surgeon before my interests turned to psychiatry."

Will nodded to acknowledge the offer and then shoved his headphones into his ears. Will forcefully brushed aside an image behind his eyes of Hannibal standing over him, scalpel expertly wielded and gleaming with artificial lighting. Will started his music playlist on a random song and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes. He was losing it. Will should've known this would be the consequence for studying all of those murder scenes and serial killers. He had failed the FBI entrance testing – unstable, as expected – but still had twisted thoughts of violence and righteousness swirling in murky circles in his mind.

His instincts were rarely off; he wasn't going to let himself ignore the warning signals he was picking up from beneath Hannibal's carefully-practiced mask. But Will also knew that he had to be mentally exaggerating, skewed by the murderers in his head. There were plenty of people in the world who were confident and relentless in their pursuits, but that did not necessarily make them dangerous. Hannibal had been polite and even caring. Serial killers were not caring.

An hour slid by and Will's mind and body calmed. He listened to the music in his ears as he studied the passing scenery. He would miss the New Orleans coast, but there was nothing left for him there. While he had completed research in the criminology department of the University of New Orleans over the last decade, he had never been allowed beyond the office that felt too much like a prison cell. By now Will had accepted that he would never be accepted into training for fieldwork with the FBI, but he had been told there was a possible teaching position in Baltimore. He had nothing to lose at this point.

Will must've dozed eventually because when someone shook his shoulder, Will found himself blurry-eyed and disoriented. He yanked his headphones from his ears and looked over at Hannibal, whose hand still rested lightly on his left shoulder. "It is nearing lunchtime," Hannibal informed him.

Will rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Okay?"

"Did you upgrade your ticket to eat meals in the dining car?"

It was difficult to keep the contempt off his face. As if he had money for that. He was just going to buy soggy sandwiches off the meal cart that would pass through the cars during each meal time. "No." His voice was gruff from sleep. A glance at his phone told him that he had napped for well over an hour.

"I see," Hannibal said, and then he was gone.

Will watched Hannibal stride down the aisle, so put together, so confident in himself and his abilities. With the path clear, Will walked the opposite direction to the cramped bathroom to relieve himself and was slightly surprised to find that Hannibal had not returned first. As Will sat back in his seat he pushed his phone and earphones into his pocket. It was likely another twenty minutes before the food cart would come by but he didn't want to accidentally miss it.

When Hannibal returned, he didn't sit. Instead he held out a hand in offering, which Will considered suspiciously. "I have spoken with the hostess and had everything arranged. You will join me in the dining cart for lunch."

He had looked at the upgrade options when buying the ticket; he knew how much the dining car cost. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"I insist," Hannibal bent a little further forward in a bow. This time Will was struck with the mental image of a fairytale prince.

"I don't—" his wallet was in his bag but that didn't matter, "I can't pay—"

Hannibal's hand did not waver, palm up in offering, but Will could imagine Hannibal brushing aside Will's objections. "As I already said, it has been arranged," Hannibal assured him. "The food cart will not suffice and, if I may say so, the noises your stomach has been making have been quite distracting."

Will blushed and took Hannibal's hand just to shut him up. It was harder to get his blush to dissipate when Hannibal did not immediately release his hand once they were both standing, and it was Will who had to slide his hand free as they walked together down the aisle. Hannibal didn't seem to notice and Will shoved his hands into his jeans pockets as he trailed his seatmate three cars down to a lavish dining car.

It was still a little early for lunch but Will had been in such a rush that morning that he hadn't eaten breakfast. Plus, it meant that the majority of the tables were currently empty. With a flourish, Hannibal presented their little table for two and Will took his seat. He tried to not feel too horribly out of place or indebted to the man who sat across from him and neatly set his napkin on his lap. It was obvious that Hannibal was accustomed to this sort of lifestyle. Will wondered what Hannibal would say if he ever watched Will eating beans out of a can one night when he felt too lazy to make an actual meal.

This thought just made Will wince. "Hannibal, really, I can't let you—"

"Let me?" Hannibal seemed amused. "I would be curious to see you try to stop me." He accepted the two menus the waitress brought over but did not look away from Will. Hannibal pressed one of the menus into Will's hands. "Please do not concern yourself with the cost. I have far too much money and no one in my life to spend it on."

When Will glanced down, he saw that there were no prices listed beside the food items. Everything must be included in the cost of the upgrade. Will buried his face in the menu for a few minutes, not knowing what to say to such an honest statement. Though Hannibal struck Will as someone who had everything he wanted – or could get anything he desired not currently in his possession – that one sentence had been laced with restrained disappointment.

Hannibal seemed content to consider the menu in silence as well, not pushing Will to maintain a conversation. However, after selecting and ordering his lunch selection – a French dip sandwich – Will told himself that offering a little company was the least he could do in thanks. "So what has you travelling this far via train?"

"I was attending a conference in New Orleans," Hannibal explained after completing his own order and taking a sip of iced water. "I am returning home to Baltimore. The reason for my choice in train instead of plane is due to my fascination with people. Three hours on a plane is not nearly long enough to get to know someone."

"You make a habit of finding friends on long train rides?" Will raised an eyebrow.

Both of their salads arrived, the service exceptionally fast with the majority of tables sitting empty. "On a few occasions I have found someone to bring home to my table for dinner at the end of the voyage," Hannibal said as he speared a cherry tomato on a fork. Will watched the red disappear behind Hannibal's lips. "But I have never met anyone as unique as you."

Will shook his head and looked out the window as he pushed some lettuce and cucumber into his own mouth. "I guess unique is one word for it," he said bitterly after he swallowed.

"I am guessing others have not been as supportive of your gift if you react so negatively to the topic," Hannibal said.

Will hated that he knew, deep down, that Hannibal wasn't guessing. There was no doubt in his mind. "You could say that." No one had ever called it a gift before, either.

"Empathy is such a beautiful thing."

Will's shoulders tensed. He forgot about his salad. "I would gladly trade pathologies." At least whatever the hell Hannibal had made him radiate an aura of strength and confidence.

"What makes you so certain I have a pathology of my own?" Will shot Hannibal a look. He only held in his eye roll at the last moment since he sensed Hannibal would not appreciate it. Hannibal smiled in amusement and tilted his head ever so slightly in admission. The mask didn't fall away, but it was another important truth. He felt like he was balancing on thin ice. "But are we not all deviant in some form or another?"

"Some more than others," Will pushed more salad into his mouth.

"And what do you see in me?"

Will's fingers drummed on the table. "That you are a skilled actor." It still irked him that so much of Hannibal was doused in shadow. Hannibal looked mildly surprised by that, which Will took pride in. He pushed his advantage. "I see that you refuse to let anyone truly see you, and yet for some reason you want me to make my way through the hall of mirrors and find the inception of your nature."

Now he really had Hannibal's attention.

"Your sandwich, sir," the waitress set his lunch plate beside his salad. A waiter behind her had Hannibal's chicken and lobster. Not that Hannibal noticed it being set down with the way his eyes remained fixed on Will. Feeling uncomfortable at the close scrutiny, Will backtracked to a previous topic. "Why do you say empathy is beautiful?"

Hannibal finally relented and turned his attention to his food. "The masses of the world are shallow, thinking only of themselves. The ability to not just see from another perspective but to truly understand is preciously rare. And," Hannibal paused to test his first bite of lobster. Will tried very hard not to appear like he was hanging on Hannibal's words. "Its ability to colour perception is powerful."

"Should I expect a bill in the mail at the end of this two-day session?" Will joked, and was relieved when the air lightened as Hannibal chuckled and shook his head.

"Forgive my curiosity. Though..." Will could feel a smile curling his lips and failed to fight it down. "You do not seem too aggravated."

Will shrugged and consciously forced his shoulders to relax slightly. "Most people shun or fear me as soon as they meet me and realize the way I am. This is... a nice change."

Hannibal considered Will for a long moment as they both chewed another bite, and then he asked a question Will was not prepared for. "What brings you from New Orleans to Baltimore, Will?"

"Work," he said, but knew already that Hannibal would not settle for such an evasive answer. So he plucked up his courage and answered properly. After all, another day and a half and he would never see this man again. "I grew up in Louisiana. No more family tying me there. I learned there might be a teaching position with the FBI in Baltimore so I figured I'd give it a shot."

"Teaching," Hannibal chewed on the word alongside his lobster. "You?"

Will's laugh sounded more like a bark. He resented Hannibal for reading him so well. "It's the closest I'll ever get to working in the FBI. I failed the psych eval for fieldwork, obviously," he added since he knew that would be Hannibal's next question.

"And that bothers you."

Will shifted in his seat uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious again. "Yeah, it does."

"What draw does the FBI hold for you?"

His eyes found the window again. Will knew he was being too obvious about his discomfort by looking away every time, but Hannibal respected Will enough to never push too hard. "People hate me for what I can do, pry secrets from people without their consent," Will sighed. "At least if I could work as a profiler with the FBI I could put my skill to good use."

"Track down murderers hiding in plain sight and put them behind bars," Hannibal surmised. "Weed out the unworthy from society and see them brought to justice." Will felt a tick in his jaw when he clenched his teeth but he nodded. "My question for you, Will," Hannibal said. "Is why you feel driven to protect those who so harshly cast you aside?"

"They're not wrong to cast me from their lives."

"I disagree."

Will looked up but Hannibal had turned his attention to his meal, cutting off another bite of chicken. Will's heart was pounding with confusion and gratitude, but he didn't know what to say. He barely knew this man who seemed so determined to change Will's self-view into something positive. Will didn't know why. They finished the rest of their lunch in silence that didn't feel as uncomfortable as Will thought it would. They both turned down dessert but Will sipped a coffee and Hannibal had some tea.

By the time their glasses were drained the dining car was stuffed full of people and Will was beginning to feel claustrophobic again. Without needing to be asked, Hannibal stood from the table and led Will back to their shared seats. Will was worried about the fact that the weight of Hannibal's hand brushing his lower back didn't make Will immediately want to run for the hills. Hannibal was fire; destruction and appeal.

To distract himself, Will got his book from his bag to read. It was a new one he had found in market the day before he was to leave New Orleans. Everything else had already been packed and Will knew he would have to carry the bulky hardback book with him on the train, but he couldn't leave it behind. It was an encyclopaedia in terms of the wealth and richness of knowledge among the pages, discussing fishing history, locations and techniques. The drawings littering the pages had been coloured by an artist dedicated to their craft.

The sun had curved over the horizon and was spilling in through the window, making it easy for Will to read as he curled up in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Hannibal occasionally flip a page of his own book – what looked to be a thick volume of Greek myths, if Will guessed correctly. Once or twice Will felt the urge to say something, just to hold Hannibal's attention again, but forced himself to continue with his book.

The problem was that he had already read half of the book the day before with nothing to occupy himself in his hollowed apartment. His phone indicated it was barely 5pm when he reached the last page and closed the book in his lap. This seemed to be a signal Hannibal had been waiting for because Hannibal's book immediately closed and those maroon eyes found Will's own before he could prepare or look away.

"Would you care to trade?" Hannibal held his book up slightly to clarify his offering.

Will rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down sheepishly at his own book. "I doubt you would find mine very interesting."

"I would be honoured," Hannibal said, and then added, "I find that someone's choice in book is a window into the soul."

"If you want to know more about me you could just ask."

"Could I?" If Will wasn't mistaken, Hannibal's gaze turned calculative.

"Maybe."

He took Hannibal's book in one hand and tentatively held out his own in return. Will felt more at ease when he saw how carefully Hannibal handled the book and the pages. "Fishing."

"Whenever I get too wrapped up in the other people in my head I go fishing to remember who I am," Will felt the need to explain and then grimaced, realizing how crazy he sounded.

He heaved a silent sigh of relief when Hannibal did not look at him any differently. Instead, his eyes grew warm, as if he was imagining Will fishing and the thought made him happy. "And if there is no stream or ocean available?"

Will tapped a finger to his temple. "My mind may be a curse, but it is also my sanctuary."

"I understand completely." Hannibal inclined his head and Will felt something powerful pull in his chest.

They read in companionate silence for a while longer, though Will found that his body was beginning to ache from sitting for too long. He shifted one way and then the other and even though he knew his fidgeting was probably growing annoying to his seatmate, Will couldn't find a comfortable position. He was about to apologize when Hannibal closed Will's book gently and stood, but then Hannibal just held out a hand and said, "Come."

Will let his hand slide into Hannibal's grasp again and this time they were a few seats down the aisle before he broke the contact. He assumed they were going to dinner judging by the direction, but questions clawed up his throat as they walked into, through, and out of the dining car. "Hannibal?"

Hannibal looked over his shoulder and beckoned Will to continue following. It felt like a trance; one Will didn't want to break. A minute later he was rewarded with fresh air tugging playfully at his curls. The train had stopped multiple times already but it was always so busy with people embarking and disembarking the train that Will didn't want to risk trying to slip off to stretch his legs and potentially get left behind.

But Hannibal had led him to a tiny balcony of sorts attached to the caboose on the back of the train. There was barely enough room to stand between the door and the railing surrounding the small outcrop of flooring, and Will's shoulder kept rubbing against Hannibal's due to lack of space. That did not make it any less perfect. Will breathed deep, stepped forward and curled his fingers around the metal railing. He was a man of nature; the sun and the air and the water were what centred him.

Hannibal stepped up behind him and the weight of his hand on Will's far hip was not tentative. Will couldn't even bring himself to mind, he was too grateful for this. He took deep breaths as the sun warmed their skin, the world spreading out in a vast arc behind the train's progress. Rather than feeling constraining, the brand of Hannibal's forearm curved around the dip of his lower back felt stabilizing.

"Won't someone shoo us away from here?" he wondered at some point.

"Money does have its uses," Hannibal said playfully. His thumb began to massage small circles into Will's hip. "We are alone here."

Will closed his eyes and sighed contently. It had been a long time since he felt like this.

#

Even though Will's legs began to ache from standing for so long, he delayed leaving for as long as possible. Hannibal did not appear to be in any rush to leave or to start another conversation. Sometimes Will caught Hannibal watching him but other times Hannibal focused on the trees and towns they were leaving behind.

Eventually Will's stomach began to grumble again, and even though the sound could not be heard over the rattle of the train tracks below them, the beeping of Hannibal's watch was. "Our dinner reservation is in ten minutes," Hannibal informed him without any obvious urgency in his tone. Even when seven minutes passed, Hannibal made no further comment or move to drag Will away. Two minutes before their reservation Will relented and they made their way back to the dining car.

At Hannibal's request, Will allowed him to order for them both. While they waited for their meals, Hannibal took a few minutes to educate Will on fine cuisine, and then prompted Will into his own discussion about the details of proper fishing techniques. To anyone else the conversation would've likely been marked as dull, but Will and Hannibal could appreciate the other's passions and bask in their expertise.

Over their food they talked more about themselves. Will spoke of his research, his sideline hobbies of fixing motors, radios and the like, and his habit of picking up stray dogs. He skirted the topic of family and was relieved when Hannibal did the same. Hannibal spoke briefly of his time as a surgeon but mainly of his current practice, and his enjoyment of the opera and hosting dinner parties. Will was struck more than once by the thought of how odd a pair they made, but realized that neither of them really cared.

With the dining car so busy they did not have an opportunity to loiter, instead getting ushered away from their table as soon as they were done eating. It was still early to sleep but sitting for the majority of the day had Will feeling lethargic. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, trying to figure out what to do since he was too tired to focus on Greek epics. Will handed back Hannibal's book, took his own in return, and then swapped his book for his laptop.

While the laptop powered on Will fiddled with his earphones a little nervously. "Would you like to watch a movie?" he forced himself to ask. Will held up his earphones to show that they could separate in answer to Hannibal's questioning look.

"I think I will catch up on the news first," Hannibal said as he exchanged his own book for the tablet in his bag. "Perhaps in a little while."

Will nodded, trying not to feel too foolish. He put his headphones on and started up a mystery thriller. It didn't help that he was interested in the plot of the movie; Will kept glancing over to watch Hannibal's hands cradle the tablet, his eyes intelligent and focused on what he was reading. The bigger challenge was to ignore the memory of Hannibal's arm around him, hand on his hip, and crush the desire to return to a similar position. It had been far too long since Will had found someone who truly saw him and still wanted him around.

Will let his eyes close as he replayed the memory in his head of the two of them standing at the back railing of the train. What would have happened if Will had rested his hand on top of Hannibal's? What if he had leaned against Hannibal's warm body, tilted his head up, and pulled Hannibal down into a kiss? How would Hannibal react? Will had never been as skilled at distinguishing kindness from attraction as well as he could recognize and profile pathologies.

Will was so focused on his ifs and maybes that he jolted in his seat when his left earphone was plucked from his ear, immediately replaced by the ghost of warm breath. "May I join you?"

They swapped earphones until they each had one hooked in an ear, their heads close together. Hannibal pushed the armrest up so it was not between them and leaned closer to view the screen. Will did his best to not give in to his desire to press more firmly against Hannibal's side, causing him to squirm in his chair. Whether because he guessed Will's dilemma or just to stop his fidgeting, Hannibal slowly wound an arm around the curve of Will's lower back again, and Will finally settled.

At some point he must've dozed off because when he was gently nudged on the arm, Will felt dazed and he saw that the movie had ended on the laptop. "How was it?" Will asked as he rubbed at his eyes and accepted the headphones set on the seat between them.

"A little predictable," Hannibal admitted, though he didn't seem bothered by the fact.

Will remained contently in the loop of Hannibal's arm while Hannibal used his other hand to power off the laptop. Will briefly cast his mind back through the portion of the movie he remembered watching. "Did the guy kill his wife and imagine a new reality for himself out of guilt?" Will deduced.

Hannibal's smile was extremely pleased. It fully reached his eyes. "Yes. It was revealed that he was in a mental institution."

"Did he accept reality or live in his denial?"

"What is your guess?" Hannibal asked.

Will pursed his lips in thought. "Based on what I saw of the character I'd guess he'd reject reality. Not that I agree with that choice."

"No?"

"There's beauty in truth," Will mumbled. He tried to look away in his self-consciousness but Hannibal's hand cupped under his chin and lifted his gaze again. "At least, I hope there is," Will continued, though his voice was weaker with uncertainty. "Since I fight every day to remember who I am, and not lose myself in the minds of others."

"What an exquisite being you are," Hannibal whispered.

It wasn't necessarily a conscious decision so much as it was every atom in his body pushing him up against Hannibal's body and pressing their lips together. The world stood frozen, breath held in anticipation. Then Will's body melted in Hannibal's embrace as Hannibal moved his hand from Will's chin to his jaw and deepened the kiss. It felt good, it felt right, and Will moaned his relief at finding this connection.

Except... Will leaned back enough to separate their lips. "I shouldn't have done that," he said with apology.

Hannibal was studying Will's face closely. Hannibal's lips were wet and so tempting... "What makes you say that?"

Will forced his attention up from Hannibal's lips to his eyes. "We only met this morning."

"I kissed you back," Hannibal reminded him. His thumb stroked Will's cheekbone and Will felt nerves in his body he hadn't even been aware of catching fire at the adoring caress. "I recognize the necessity for social rules, but I will not let a creature as magnificent as you slip through my fingers because of them."

There was nothing else that needed to be said. This time Will hooked a hand on the back of Hannibal's neck and dragged their lips together harshly. Hannibal returned the kiss hungrily, devouring what Will was eagerly giving. Will ended up crowded against the window in his seat, Hannibal's body heat soaking into his chest and thighs. Hannibal's arm had never left Will's back, supporting him as Will arched against Hannibal. The first kiss was a tentative locking of lips; this kiss was bold, unyielding fire.

Will had to break the kiss again, but only because he was dizzy and he felt the stirrings of arousal in his groin. Although no one had commented on their conversations yet – likely with their own headphones on – Will still had some limits. When Will opened his eyes he had to put a hand over his mouth to cover his grin. He wasn't sure when he had done it – had been too caught up in the brush of their lips – but at some point during the kiss he had skimmed his fingers through Hannibal's hair, which was now standing on end.

It was close enough to sex-hair that Will kissed Hannibal one last time, quick and gratified. Hannibal was smiling too; it was the most beautiful sight. "I would like for you to come to my house for dinner tomorrow," Hannibal invited quietly, eyes imploring. "I would enjoy cooking for you."

Will nodded, his grin stupidly large now. He didn't even have a plan in mind for when the train arrived other than to book a room at a motel as close to the FBI buildings as possible. A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that this was too good to be true, and to not get his hopes up. But even if – whatever it was between them – didn't go beyond tomorrow evening, at least he would have the memories.

"Yeah," he said and chuckled when he realized that he was still breathless from the kiss. "Yes, definitely."

"Excellent," Hannibal was still smiling too, though he was waning to tiredness. "Now, if you will not be offended I think I will get ready to sleep."

Will checked his watch. It was still a little earlier than he would normally sleep, but he had been packing for the last few days and had been forced to wake up early that morning to catch the train. An early night wouldn't kill him. "Good idea," he agreed. Hannibal disappeared first while Will packed away his belongings in his laptop bag and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from the bottom of the bag. He knew he would have a crick in his neck the next morning from sleeping on the train seat, but he had slept in worse situations in his life.

Since it was still relatively early he didn't have to wait long to get into a train washroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself. A part of him wished he had thought to grab a pair of sweatpants to change into rather than sleeping in jeans, but the thought of sitting next to Hannibal – in a suit – while in sweatpants just seemed wrong.

Hannibal had returned by the time Will was finished, and stood up long enough to let Will slide back into his seat. The armrest remained up and out of the way, turning their pair of seats into a tiny couch of sorts. What piqued his curiosity was the afghan blanket of soft, deep red wool Hannibal had left on the seat between them and unfurled as soon as they were both seated again.

"I find the circulating air on trains can get a bit chilled while sleeping," Hannibal said as a form of explanation, though Will didn't miss the fact that Hannibal settled the majority of the blanket over Will instead of himself.

The blanket was an instant cocoon of heat. Will was grateful because it meant he could pull off his sweater and bunch it up into a makeshift pillow. "Thanks," he mumbled through a yawn as he leaned his sweater-pillow against the window and sought a comfortable position.

He heard Hannibal whisper something in return, though Will must've been more tired than he had previously realized because he was already beginning to drift off to sleep. If he had to guess, the word would've been, "Anything."

#

Will dreamt about being lost in an unfamiliar forest. His eyes had opened in the middle of it, no sign of an end in sight. At first he attempted to keep his breathing steady, but as he searched blindly for the path his panic began to swell. Covered tree roots tripped him, brambles and thorns clutched at his clothes. The foliage above his head was so thick it blotted out the stars, leaving him in a darkness so absolute that his eyes began to draw designs across his vision as he stumbled.

Just as Will's panic and hopelessness threatened to consume him, he stumbled through a parting of trees into a clearing. The moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the black pelt of the massive stag standing at the centre of the clearing. Its antlers were strong and arched into the sky, and the creature's intelligent eyes stilled Will.

They regarded each other for a long moment, approached, and tentatively pressed together. Will's fingers carded through soft fur and the stag's head nudged against Will's chest. They never found the path but when they walked side by side out of the clearing and through the forest, Will forgot why he had thought it so important to follow a path in the first place. They would forge their own destiny. Alone they would waver but together they were strong.

Will woke in a haze of heat and arousal. A quick glance out the window showed that the sky was still a murky grey of pre-dawn. However, what drew Will's attention was his position – during the night he had moved to lean against Hannibal with his head resting halfway between Hannibal's shoulder and the seat – and his erection tenting his pants beneath the blanket.

Will couldn't remember the last time he felt so humiliated. He leaned his head back just enough to gauge his chances of climbing over Hannibal to get to a bathroom without waking him. Will froze when he saw that Hannibal's eyes were open, and his face was angled towards Will. Hannibal was breathing deeply, his eyes half-lidded, but he was not sleeping. With a jolt Will knew that Hannibal could smell his arousal and was drinking it in.

Will stiffened at the thought. Hannibal's nostrils flared.

Hannibal didn't ask for permission and he didn't need to. Will was already leaning in when Hannibal's lips sealed over his, and the feeling of Hannibal's hand tracing down his stomach had Will's toes curling in his shoes. It felt like he had been waiting for this his whole life. Will would've been embarrassed by how sensitive he was to Hannibal's touch, but the growl rumbling in Hannibal's chest assured him that there was nothing to apologize for.

Hannibal cupped Will through his pants first, massaging with the heel of his palm in heavy, demanding circles. Will's hips lifted to push his cock up against the pressure more firmly, and Hannibal did not waste any time in skilfully undoing the buttons of Will's jeans and snaking his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear. Hannibal was ready and swallowed down Will's moan to keep him silent at the first sensation of strong fingers wrapping around his length.

Beneath the shapeless mass of the afghan their bodies were hidden, and Will suspected that the majority of the train was still asleep around them. Still, that wouldn't last for long if Will woke them up, and Hannibal's kisses weren't muting the whine building at the back of Will's throat. Hannibal kissed down the column of Will's neck and then whispered into the hollow of his throat. "Hush, mon coeur."

"Hannibal—" Will choked on the word and gulped. The twitch of his cock in Hannibal's hand at the words would be unmistakeable.

Hannibal watched Will with pride. He paired the first stroke of Will's shaft from root to tip with a nip to Will's Adam's apple. "I am pleased that you know some French," Hannibal purred. "Tu pourras crier quand nous serons chez moi."

"Je crierai, pour toi," Will promised. His French was rusty, but judging by the reflexive tightening of his grip on Will's cock, Hannibal didn't mind.

"Seulement moi."

"Oui, fuck, yes," Will moaned softly.

Will was already disoriented by the sparks of pleasure from Hannibal stroking him as he whispered filthy nothings in his ear. Before he completely lost all sense to the instinct of bucking up into Hannibal's hand, Will moved his hand from where it was clutching at Hannibal's thigh to instead fumble with the clasp on his suit pants. Hannibal paused long enough to push Will's pants and underwear down just far enough to hook under his balls before beginning to stroke anew, and Will copied him.

He wanted to look at the cock in his hand, thick enough to make something primal squirm in his gut. Will wanted to duck his head and suck Hannibal into his mouth, swallow him down, consume him. Now was neither the time nor the place though, and Will was content to mirror Hannibal's movements stroke for stroke until both of their legs were spreading obscenely under the blanket.

They sat side by side with their arms overlapping, muscles flexed as they worked. However, their bodies were angled into one another, desiring a more intimate connection. Occasionally they would kiss, or Hannibal would indulge in lightly biting into Will's skin on his ear, on his jaw or down his neck. The rest of the time they would share air as they panted quietly against the other's mouth, Will choking down moans and whimpers whenever possible.

As his body wound tighter, Will's hips began to thrust more demandingly into Hannibal's fist. Hannibal took the hint and twisted his palm around the crown of Will's head before dipping the nail of his thumb into Will's slit. Hannibal swallowed Will's gasp and then pressed his lips to the shell of Will's ear. "Will you come undone for me?"

"Yes, yes," Will whispered back.

"Montre-moi."

Will's spare hand, which had previously been gripping wrinkles into the afghan, covered his own mouth just in time to silence himself as his body shuddered with release. The angle of his back as he arched off the seat hurt, as did the pinch of his teeth breaking skin where he bit down on his hand, but that just sharpened his awareness enough for his orgasm to crash over him like a wave. He came into Hannibal's waiting palm and trembled when Hannibal stroked him long past the point of oversensitivity with his now-slicked hand.

"You smell divine," Hannibal hummed as he nuzzled Will's neck with his nose, breathing him in.

Hannibal was swollen and pulsing in Will's hand, and Will decided that he really didn't care that much about any potential consequences. He shuffled back in his seat and then ducked under the blanket, letting it cascade over his head. Will didn't give any warning before wrapping his lips around Hannibal's cock, tongue teasing precome out of his slit. Through the blanket Hannibal's clean hand pressed down on the back of Will's head, coaxing, testing boundaries. Will had tears in his eyes as his gag reflex clenched warningly, but Will forced one more inch into his mouth and hummed.

Hannibal was completely silent through his orgasm, but the automatic sway of his hips in his perfectly-tailored suit showed the opposite of composure. Will swallowed Hannibal's come, licked him clean, and then tucked Hannibal back into his pants. When he re-emerged, Will was greeted by the sight of Hannibal's face, flushed with heat and desire. Hannibal licked the tears from Will's cheeks and then put on a show of licking Will's come from his palm and fingers. After that, and when Will also had his jeans buttoned again, satiation tugged at their bodies and minds.

"It's still early," Will muttered.

"Go back to sleep," Hannibal said, wrapping his arm around Will's waist. Will wasn't even going to bother lying against the window this time. Instead he tucked his head on Hannibal's shoulder, threw an arm over Hannibal's stomach to hold him closer, and passed out with a satisfied sigh.

#

They walked to breakfast hand in hand, spoke soft, warm words over their scrambled eggs and bacon, and then stood at the back railing of the train for a while. The sun was weakly shining through the clouds hanging heavy in the sky and Will was happy for an excuse to tuck himself against Hannibal's side to share warmth as wind whipped around them. Ever since Will had initiated the first kiss Hannibal did not appear to have any qualms about seeking more, kissing Will lazily whenever the mood seemed to strike him, which was often. Will felt no desire to protest.

Back at their seats Will put his headphones back in and listened to music. Between this sudden and exciting development with Hannibal and the resulting kisses, physical contact and handjob that morning, Will was too energized and restless to focus on a book. Will alternated between watching the scenery outside the window and Hannibal's hand work when he noticed that Hannibal had pulled out a sketchbook.

The train was scheduled to arrive shortly after lunch, and by the time they had to pack up and head back to the dining car for their final meal, Hannibal's sketch had taken form to make it very clear that Will was the subject. It was Will in his seat, chin in his hand, hair curling around his ear, and eyes watching the world fly by. Will could see himself through another's eyes – Hannibal's eyes – and he found himself speechless.

After a short lunch and some time spent packing away the last of their belongings and ensuring they weren't forgetting anything, the train began to slow. While a few passengers had departed at earlier stops along the way, the majority of the train disembarked in a swarm. As he stepped off the train Will watched families and friends approach their loved ones, bright smiles and big hugs filling the station. Will's family was gone, and he didn't have any friends back in New Orleans he expected to maintain contact now that Will was beyond city limits.

Hannibal's arm found its place around Will's waist; the embrace was possessive but Will would be lying if he said he didn't like it. "Is there anywhere you need to go first?"

Will shook his head and let Hannibal lead them to the parking lot. "Other than this bag I only had two other boxes of stuff to keep; clothes, books, fishing gear," Will explained. "I had it shipped ahead of me and put in storage until I find a place."

"Did you have any specific plans in mind for that?" Hannibal asked lightly.

"A motel near the FBI buildings for now," Will said. "Even if I don't get the teaching job, I might as well stay here as anywhere else so I'll eventually find a place; maybe a house outside of the city for some privacy."

"What will you pursue if you don't get the teaching job?" Hannibal wondered.

They had approached a parking attendant and Hannibal handed off a slip of paper with a string of numbers on it. Will watched the attendant check the numbers and then disappear out into a far section of the parking lot. Not knowing how long the wait would be, Will set his duffle at his feet. "More research," Will said, though his voice was anything but eager. "I can't do fieldwork for the FBI but maybe I can publish some articles that will help those who can."

Hannibal was studying him intently. "Do you truly wish to do fieldwork?"

Will's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

For a long second Hannibal was silent, deliberating. "On rare occasion I consult with the FBI to complete a profile," Hannibal said eventually. Will felt his stomach flip with curiosity, hope and jealousy. "I could speak with Agent Crawford about you, but I hesitated in telling you this because I do not trust him to treat you or your mind properly."

Will rocked on the balls of his feet, trying and failing to keep a rein on his eagerness. Hannibal only said he would talk to this agent; that wasn't a promise. But it was a chance! "Well isn't understanding my mind your job?" He said boldly; they hadn't talked about what might or might not lie beyond this dinner for the both of them. This seemed to be the right answer though, because Hannibal looked satisfied.

"If you will allow me to watch over you, then I will certainly speak with Agent Crawford," Hannibal promised.

Will barely managed to mumble out a 'thank you' before his attention was diverted by the car driven up and parked by the parking attendant. A set of keys was set in Hannibal's waiting palm. "You drive a Bentley." Hannibal didn't react and merely took Will's duffle bag along with his own suitcase and set the luggage in the back trunk. Hannibal returned to Will's side and opened the passenger door in offering. "You own a Bentley."

"I do," Hannibal sounded amused. "Is that a problem?"

There were only two things Will could think about. First was the come staining the inside of his underwear and the thought that he would never be dressed nicely enough to sit in a car this expensive. Second, and more appealing, was the mental image of the car's leather pressing against his bare back and thighs as he jerked himself off to Hannibal's even tones.

"No problem," Will squawked and sat heavily in the passenger seat before he could do something embarrassing like feed a full-blown erection. He had not been expecting to discover a kink for luxury cars and leather seats on his relocation to Baltimore. Will guessed Hannibal could smell the hints of his arousal when Hannibal breathed deep after they both had their doors closed, but Hannibal didn't comment.

Will wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at first, but he figured it was probably a good idea to show that he wasn't just hanging around for sex. Not that he would be opposed to more of that either, but he didn't want to screw up what could very well be the best relationship of his life. "What are you thinking about?" Hannibal questioned after a few minutes of driving in silence.

Will ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Us," he answered simply. "What my future might look like here in Baltimore."

"Would it be too forward of me to invite you to stay at my house?" Will looked over in surprise. "Until you find other accommodations, if mine are not suitable," Hannibal added.

"Do you just see me as a charity case or something?" Will blurted out because he didn't know what to say.

Hannibal barely acknowledged the outburst. "You knew the answer to that question before you asked it."

Will had known. Hannibal emitted a tendency towards the desire to claim and possess. What Hannibal was offering Will – lodgings, food, understanding, companionship – were all very generous, but Hannibal was not truly altruistic. Will wasn't the only one who had felt alone in the world, and who was thrumming with new life at the possibility of finding a match in the chaos of everyday life. Everything Hannibal offered was because Hannibal wanted to give it to Will, and wanted Will's loyalty, acceptance and partnership in return.

"I'll stay," Will accepted the offer. "But not forever. I like to have my own space."

"That is agreeable," Hannibal said, though his focus was on parking in the driveway of what had to be his house. It was massive but beautiful, clearly historical and devotedly-preserved. After the car was turned off they both grabbed their bags and Will followed Hannibal up the front steps and through the heavy wooden front door. "Please know that you are always welcome here," Hannibal offered as the door opened and they both stepped into the foyer.

Everything about the foyer and, from what Will would guess, the rest of the house spoke to Hannibal's personality and tastes. Each piece of furniture and decor was precisely placed in the house's space, and didn't just speak of luxury but also of intrigue and intelligence. As Will stepped beyond the threshold and the door closed behind him, he was swept up in the notion of stepping into a wolf's den.

Will felt like he was on the precipice of a vital choice; one that could lead his life in two very different directions. "Would you ever hurt me?" Will had to know.

Will knew it was the right question to ask when Hannibal did not look surprised by it as he set his bag down by the closet. "Only if you asked me to."

"I've had enough pain for a lifetime."

Hannibal's eyes were warm and fond. "Then I will shield you from all further pain I am able to deflect."

Will was knowingly walking into the lair of a predator – a dangerous one. He wouldn't fool himself into believing otherwise or living in denial. But he trusted Hannibal's words and promise and felt any remaining uncertainty and fear drain out of him. Will was entering as a chosen mate; an equal. Predators chose predators. Will would not come to harm, but the world would have to heed their pairing.

"You may shower if you like. I will be doing so as well after seasoning the meat to begin roasting," Hannibal said. "Take your bags upstairs. My bedroom is the first on the left and the guest room is the second. Both have adjoining bathrooms. You are welcome to whichever bed you would be most comfortable sleeping in tonight."

"Will you sleep in your own bed either way?"

"Naturally," Hannibal's lips had a knowing curl. Hannibal nudged Will to the bottom step of the stairs and Will took the hint, carrying his bag upstairs and down the hall.

With Hannibal's permission, Will pushed the first door on the left open and took in the sight of Hannibal's personal bedroom. The room was perhaps darker than Will would envision for a normal bedroom, but the dark walls and black, imposing headboard just made the room feel private, intimate. It made Will want to slide beneath the navy duvet, muss up the carefully-ordered pillows and bind himself in the no-doubt soft sheets for Hannibal to find and do with what he pleased.

Will continued on to the guest room and set his bag on the foot of the bed. This room reminded him a lot more of a lavish hotel; beautifully decorated but impersonal. Hannibal's identity was not as powerful here, allowing anyone visiting to imprint themselves into the walls and create a cocoon of comfort and familiarity as they relaxed and slept. Will did not plan to sleep here, but Hannibal's house and bedroom were too nice to leave his frumpy duffle and laptop bags lying around.

He dug through his bag and pulled out the nicest pair of jeans and button up shirt he had available. After a few fruitless minutes trying to smooth out the wrinkles from the fabric, Will gave up and stepped into the ensuite to shower. Between the morning handjob and the general fact of spending more than twenty four hours on a train, the hot water spilling over Will's head felt like pure bliss. There were bottles of shampoo, conditioner and soap for Will to use. Will smelled each of them and found that while none of them were the exact scents Hannibal wore, they all somehow brought the man to Will's mind.

Will lingered in the shower for a little longer than necessary, feeling every corded muscle in his body loosen. He had no idea what his life would look like starting tomorrow morning when he woke up. Will currently had no job, no house, no family, and no friends that would keep in touch. All he had was his brain and empathy, his stubborn refusal to roll over and die despite the punches the world had dealt him... and Hannibal.

The thought had Will finally leaving the shower and towelling off. He pulled on his new set of clothes and spent a few minutes trying to tame his wet curls before giving up and leaving the bathroom. Will left his bag in the guest room out of the way and, when he exited into the hallway, he heard a similar cascade of another shower running through the walls. Will hesitated, not entirely sure if he should wait or if he had free reign, but eventually decided to go back downstairs to give Hannibal some privacy.

Rather than snoop through the house, Will followed his nose and the delicious aroma of their future dinner cooking in the kitchen. He could see through the window of the oven that there was a large pan with what appeared to be some sort of roast. On the island was a mound of vegetables – carrots, potatoes and parsnips mainly - and a note in Hannibal's refined handwriting. Peel, please.

Will wasn't even sure how Hannibal expected him to eat everything; the portions would be far too large for either of them. However, Will wasn't going to argue and rolled up his sleeves. He ran all of the vegetables under the sink tap in handfuls before returning them to the island and grabbing the peeler. Will had finished the potatoes and was halfway through the carrots when Hannibal joined him in the kitchen.

Hannibal was still dressed up but not to a ridiculous degree anymore. He was wearing tailored slacks and a light grey button up shirt, his sleeves already rolled up in anticipation for more food preparation. "Thank you for peeling, Will," Hannibal said as he came to stand directly behind Will.

There was about one inch of space between Will's back and Hannibal's front, but Hannibal's presence and heat were like a physical form to Will. On top of that, being this close to Hannibal right after he had showered meant that the smell of Hannibal's shampoo and natural scent had both been refreshed. It was heady and Will breathed in deeply as he leaned back to rest against Hannibal's sturdy chest and turn his face into Hannibal's neck.

Hannibal's hands found Will's hips and they remained like that for a few long, unhurried minutes. Will was disappointed when his nose began to become desensitized to Hannibal's smell and tilted his head back, nose against the crook of Hannibal's strong jaw. Hannibal took this small movement and the baring of Will's neck as an offering and angled his head down to align their lips. Will moaned contently and leaned into it, sagging with bliss when Hannibal's powerful arms wrapped around and hugged his middle.

They kissed slowly and gently, swaying slightly against one another as if this was a high school prom. As the minutes slid by unchecked Will felt his lips tingle at the attention, his body growing overheated by their shared body heat. Will was about to raise a hand and hold the back of Hannibal's neck, deepen the kiss and nip fondly at his bottom lip, when Hannibal ended the kiss and moved his head back.

"I do not want you to feel obligated to reciprocate in exchange for what I have offered." Will frowned in confusion and Hannibal elaborated. "Your bag was in the guestroom."

Will sighed instead of laughed simply because the warmth in his belly was only one spark away from roaring into a hungry, greedy fire. "Clutter," he said in a poor form of explanation and then added, "I imagined tying myself up with your sheets and letting you find me. Or following you to bed and riding you into the mattress."

Hannibal used the seamless alignment of their bodies to press forward and Will readily allowed himself to be bent over Hannibal's kitchen island. When Will felt the vibration of Hannibal's purr in his chest against Will's back, Will felt his pants grow tight. He impatiently pushed the pile of vegetables further away so that his hands had a place to splay, supporting both his weight and Hannibal's. Except that was not Hannibal's intention; a truth Will came to realize when Hannibal's insistent pressure did not relent.

"Soumets-toi."

"Yes," Will moaned as he allowed his hands to skid away from him until his body was fully bent to Hannibal's will. Legs spread apart for some shaky form of balance, hips bruised against the island, back moulded like putty, and chest and cheek against the quartz island countertop.

Hannibal's clothed erection slotted against the swell of Will's ass and his chest covered Will's back. "Français seulement, s'il vous plaît."

"Oui," Will clenched his eyes closed. Forcing his mind to focus enough to translate his thoughts and comprehension from English to French while Hannibal began to grind against him was like trying to swap mismatched cogs while the clock tower was engulfed in flames around him. "Je suis à toi."

"Comme prédestiné."

Will felt comfortably bound in the certainty of that statement, like he was finally settling into where he was meant to be. The years alone had been hard, buffering the misunderstandings and distrust of society whenever possible and succumbing to that negativity when he had been worn too thin. Will had survived his trials and now Hannibal was his reward as much as Will was Hannibal's, which Hannibal claimed with teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of Will's neck.

Will cried out and jerked forward, the pain only sharp enough to set Will's world on fire and draw attention to every inch where their bodies touched. Hannibal bit long enough that the crooked line of his teeth would bruise but didn't break skin, and then sucked a darker mark in the middle to be framed and put on display for the world. No one would see Will with this mark and consider him anything but another's. Will rocked back, goading Hannibal to give in to the primal instincts that had Will harder than he had ever been in his life.

When he was satisfied with his mark, Hannibal lapped at it a few times with his tongue and then nosed at Will's hair, breathing him in deep. While still pinned against the island by Hannibal's body, Will bumped his hips back an inch to accommodate for space when Hannibal's hands began to work at his belt and jeans fastenings. The drag of his pants and underwear over his ass and halfway down his thighs was obscene, leaving him on display in the centre of Hannibal's domain.

Will couldn't remember the last time he was so aroused, his whole body aching with need.

Hannibal had come prepared with a small packet of lube tucked away in his back pocket. Will heard the wrapper tear a moment after the sound of Hannibal's zipper being drawn made him shudder. Hannibal was generous with the lube but had high expectations for Will, easing two fingers in on the first push. Will's nails scraped uselessly against the quartz warmed by his body, his jaw going slack at the stretch of Hannibal's intrusion, but it felt incredible.

Although Hannibal pushed each of Will's boundaries and limits, he was careful to never break Will. The burn of Hannibal's fingers entering and preparing him was unrushed, and Will's body was soothed into thrumming relaxation when Hannibal massaged his perineum while his fingers spread apart. Three fingers had Will arching off the island and Hannibal nipped lines along the curve of Will's shoulder blades. Not in punishment, and not in praise; simply because Hannibal could while his fingers found a rhythm.

"Préservatif?" Embarrassed as Will was to admit it, he was unfamiliar with the word's meaning. He grunted without an answer. Hannibal thrust his fingers in a little more harshly but his voice was calm, unperturbed. "Condom?"

Will licked his lips. Regardless of the connection they had already felt and shared, Hannibal was still essentially a stranger. "Que veux-tu?"

"Je veux voir ma semence mouiller tes cuisses," Hannibal proclaimed boldly as he withdrew his fingers from Will's body. The mental image was enough to have Will desperately rutting back for more, his decision made. Maybe it wasn't smart, but he still felt safe. He was losing a grasp on his French, his veins coursing fire through him, so he merely nodded. Will listened to the wet sounds of Hannibal coating his cock in more lube with his hand and bent forward over the island again when he felt the tip of Hannibal's cock against his hole. "Es-tu prêt, pour moi?"

"Toujours," was the last word Will managed to speak before his voice broke on a cry as Hannibal thrust past Will's slicked ring of muscles. Hannibal was patient but relentless, swaying his hips forward and back to coax Will's body into relaxing and taking him in further. Hannibal did not settle until he was fully buried inside Will's ass and Will was panting harshly, moist breath fogging the countertop.

Once sheathed, Hannibal gave Will to the count of ten to adjust. He counted. Then his hips jarred against the island's edge when Hannibal pulled out and thrust back in roughly. The contact hurt and Will gritted his teeth, and sighed in relief and gratitude a moment later after Hannibal manoeuvred his hands to hold Will's hips where they would act as a buffer against the counter. Will remembered Hannibal's promise to protect Will from whatever pains he could, and clenched around Hannibal's cock in thanks.

Hannibal growled and fucked into Will harder. Just because Hannibal had taken every precaution to ensure Will was not hurt by their coupling, this was not going to be a sweet, lazy push-pull of bodies. There was affection between them in the way Hannibal pressed his forehead between Will's shoulder blades and kissed his skin, and the way Will whispered Hannibal's name on each stuttered breath, but this was a test and initiation and claim all rolled into one.

They needed to ensure that they could survive one another; that their mate would not splinter before their partnership even truly had a chance to take root in their hearts and minds.

While both Will's knowledge of any language and his own breath had failed him, Hannibal had no such issue. His panting was near-violent in Will's ear and against his skin, paired with the patter of Hannibal's heart against Will's back. But Hannibal continued to praise Will in a string of languages Will struggled to follow – French, what Will assumed to be Italian, and then another two dialects that were entirely foreign. All Will could tease out were words of beautiful, precious, and multiple variations of possession and belonging.

Peppered between the onslaught of adoration was Will's name, whispered so intimately that Will could only moan Hannibal's name back to him as his body grew tense and overheated. Hannibal dragged Will's hips another few inches back from the counter, held Will in place with one hand on his hip while the other encircled Will's cock. Will had already dribbled precome on the floor in a tiny puddle and there was something about doing that to Hannibal's immaculate kitchen that had Will's toes curling.

Will wanted to stroke himself, he was so desperate for release, but Hannibal was already milking him while driving into him hard and fast. Will's breath fell from his lips in punctuated gasps in time with Hannibal's thrusts. He barely managed to utter a final groan of Hannibal's name in warning before his whole body stiffened, sticky ropes of come splattering across Hannibal's moving palm.

The force of his orgasm had Will's vision blurring as a satisfied whine worked up his throat. Will's back ached and his thighs were trembling but Hannibal held him up, one hand forever on Will's hip and his come-coated hand holding Will's abdomen to stabilize him. Will allowed himself to be held aloft and used as Hannibal fucked into his body, trusting Hannibal to keep him from falling.

Despite what Will was expecting based on the violent edge of Hannibal's possessiveness in his claiming of Will's body, Hannibal's orgasm was beautifully innocent. Hannibal held Will tighter and shuddered against the length of Will's body. All that escaped him was an unsteady exhale of Will's name as Hannibal's hips jerked with a primal instinct against Will until his ass was full with Hannibal's seed. Fond kisses to Will's sweaty skin followed until Hannibal softened enough to slip free from Will's body and they both leaned against the island for support.

Tomorrow Will would feel sore and stiff but in the moment Will's body felt satisfactorily used, as though he had just returned home from a successful day at the gym. His body was coursing with adrenaline and endorphins, and when he finally felt steady on his feet, Will turned in Hannibal's grasp and locked their lips together. Hannibal seemed to require longer to recover, his returning kisses sleepy and slow, but that just made Will smile against Hannibal's mouth.

At some point Will let Hannibal turn him back around and kneel behind him, dragging fingers through the trails of come coating Will's inner thighs. If it had been anyone else Will would've kicked them away and yanked his pants back up, but with Hannibal Will contently leaned forward against the island and allowed Hannibal's pleased observation of the proof of their coupling.

A kitchen timer was what finally woke them from their daze. Will hiked up his pants while Hannibal did up his own and washed his hands in a hurry before silencing the timer and wielding oven mitts. Will had been planning on going back upstairs to clean up, but between Hannibal's fingers and tongue, Will felt clean enough to linger by the island and watch Hannibal check the roast before sliding it back in and resetting the timer.

They had barely just met and had already shared so many intimate parts of themselves – both mentally and physically. Will struggled with social etiquette and expectations and normally fumbled after some sort of physical encounter with another. He did not feel any pressure from Hannibal though; no expectations that could easily lead to disappointments. It became easy for Will to wash his hands and join Hannibal's dinner preparations, taking orders worded as requests and completing his tasks diligently.

Even easier was sitting down with Hannibal at the dinner table and discussing whatever came to mind between his repeated praises for Hannibal's cooking mastery. A part of Will had worried that they would lapse into awkwardness when no longer forced together in the confines of their shared train. He had been wrong to be concerned; the longer they sat together – first at the dining table and then in plush armchairs in Hannibal's study – the more topics of interest cropped up.

It didn't take long before a pleasing thought drifted through Will's mind: We'll need a lifetime to talk about everything. A lifetime with anyone else seemed daunting. With Hannibal, Will had no doubt it would be an adventure. One built on a foundation of understanding. Hannibal was the one to suggest sleep when the hour grew late, but Will was the one to lace their fingers together and lead them both into Hannibal's bedroom. He would not allow Hannibal a moment of uncertainty at the fact that Will had left his bags in the guestroom where they would be out of the way.

At Hannibal's offering, Will accepted a pair of his pyjama bottoms under the correct assumption that Hannibal's clothes would be higher quality and softer than Will's own. Will chose to forgo his shirt and explored with greedy eyes when Hannibal made the same choice. Their bodies were both still worn from earlier but they met beneath the sheets and tangled their limbs intimately. Will didn't know what awaited him beyond tomorrow's dawn, but when he breathed in he couldn't smell himself or Hannibal – instead a comforting blend – and that was enough to coax Will into an immediate, restful sleep.