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There were a million words in the English dictionary that could be used to describe a pleasurable feeling. A feeling that left one feeling euphoric and floating on something akin to a high that an addict chases after their first dose. Sometimes the feeling was pinned as “bliss,”or even something simpler like “good,” but this … this was something indescribable. Something that the human language could not begin to explain; words were unable to bring this sensation justice. It was the warm buzz caused by a good drink, mixed with the high that came from a small hit, then when it all wore off, it remained still ever prominent. It wasn’t euphoria … it wasn’t bliss … it was a common feeling with a foreign sense of explanation.
Will inhaled deeply and the scent of iron was strong. The metallic tang that flooded his senses and left the taste in his mouth. In his ear, his mate’s breathing was steady - smooth - and comforted him more than it should’ve after what had just transpired. The breathing was akin to a cello that stood boldly out in a symphony, the inhaling and exhaling of his lungs mimicking the vibrations of the bow sliding over the strings delicately to produce a grand sound. The cello was an instrument that many found a distaste for, but Will thought it was intricate, and only the most masterful of musicians could perfect its sound.
Hannibal was a cello, and Will had become the musician of this beautiful instrument. Taming and harnessing its beauty to completely capture the capabilities of its sound.
The taller man lets his hands run down the length of Will’s thin arms, down to his hands, and then back to shoulders to squeeze. He pulls him tighter into the embrace, humming and continuing to breathe that calming melody into his ear. The brunette closes his eyes and burrows deeper into the blood-soaked shoulder under his nose, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the other male that overpowered the smell of iron. He smelled of roses, and a forest after a rainshower - when flowers bloomed and showed off their colors to the hikers walking through. Hannibal was one of those flowers, even if a deadly one at that.
The breathing stutters, and for a moment, the peace is broken. It has Will opening his eyes wide in terror and turning his head to gaze at the blond, but the serenity in those wise eyes calms him almost immediately. Hannibal smiles at him gently, and Will feels the warm feeling come back to wash over his tired muscles.
“This is all I ever wanted for us,” the larger male murmurs, his lips ghosting over the other’s forehead as he spoke, “For you, Will … I could never ask for more,” and those words alone have the brunette melting against the broader body with ease.
The water below them continued to surge against the cliffside, roaring and spraying the pair with the residue as it crashed against the rocks. Will gazes up at the blond, and blue eyes lock with hazel. He squeezes Hannibal’s back as the taller man leans in to ghost a chaste kiss on Will’s pale lips. It’s fleeting, and the brunette wants more, but he knew now was not the time. Not after what they had done. He wished they could go back to months before; to their home in the mountains where nobody could bother them or Abigail. They could’ve been the “murder husbands” that everyone teased them about relentlessly. With their daughter … their daughter … Abby. He hoped they’d be able to find her again after this; after what they were about to do.
“I love you…” it’s quiet as he says it, but the small chuckle that Hannibal lets out gives away that he heard. He nuzzles into Will’s hair, walking them closer to the edge. They were ready to take the plunge, and if they lived to see the next day, things would be different. They’d start anew in the manor with a family, and things would be right this time.
Will gasped as his foot slipped, and Hannibal held him tighter as they both gave way to gravity and plummeted below into the depths of the raging ocean.