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On a good day, it can take just over an hour and a half to get from Baltimore to Quantico. Hannibal makes it in one hour.
It’s not lost on him that to an onlooker he might look like a lunatic as he tears out of his car and into the building, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He still hasn’t decided what he’s going to do when he gets to Will’s office, assuming he’s even there. On the phone, Hannibal had considered it a possibility that Will was winding him up, with no truth to his teasing. Perhaps Will had merely been curious to see what would happen if he added a bit of brazen flirting into the mix. Perhaps the latter is still true, but with the added bonus of acting on his curiosity.
His body is thrumming with tension, and he is so focused on just going that he just about barrels right past the door to Will’s office. He forces himself to relax, taking a deep breath before trying the door handle. Upon finding the door locked, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it open, careful to turn his body so that he looks like he might just be struggling with a key, in case anyone is watching.
Nothing prepares him for the sight that greets him in the dim light.
Will is completely nude in his chair behind the desk (and Hannibal notes the empty glass and half-empty bottle of whisky sitting on it), his legs splayed out and head tilted back, mouth open and panting, and he is masturbating. He startles when Hannibal enters the office, head snapping up to attention, and his expression is a pleasant mix of embarrassment and surprise.
“Could you maybe… close the door?” Will asks, stilling the hand on his cock while his other hand rubs across his mouth, presumably to wipe away an expression that reveals too much.
Hannibal closes the door with care before turning back to face Will, stepping forward with some hesitation and a desperate hope that his nerves don’t bleed through for Will to unravel. The sight of Will is so much more thrilling than he had imagined, and he takes another step, as though tugged forward by a powerful magnet. Will adjusts his grip on his cock, but doesn’t move to do anything else.
“I’ve gotta admit, I didn’t expect that you were actually coming here,” Will says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into an awkward grin.
“I said I was coming to get you, did I not?” Hannibal manages the last few steps to close the distance between them, and Will swivels in his chair to face him, looking up with an agonizing amount of innocence in his eyes.
“You did,” Will says. “But I was… I thought it would have taken longer, and I’d be gone by then.”
There was a time that Hannibal would have described himself as a model of self-control and resistance. This is not such a time, as he finds himself dropping to his knees with a painful jolt when he hits the floor. He reaches for Will’s knees, and Hannibal is glad that he is at least able to keep his hands from shaking as he slides them up along Will’s thighs, staring at him with unabashed desire.
“Naturally I was motivated to help you, Will,” Hannibal replies, relishing the soft gasp he elicits from Will’s mouth when he tightens his grip on Will’s thighs so he can part them and impose himself between them. “You’ve been drinking, I would not be much of a friend if I allowed you to drive home in such a state.”
Will’s hands rush to Hannibal’s shoulders, pushing back against him, causing the chair to roll back. It’s so sudden that Hannibal falls forward and has to catch himself with his hands on the floor, now on all fours like some kind of… dog. Hannibal can hear Will take a shaky breath before getting up out of the chair, toward the crumpled pile of clothing in the corner.
Before Hannibal can make any move to stand, Will’s hand is firm on his shoulder as he says, “Stay,” and Hannibal… stays. He swallows through the lump in his throat, marveling at his own reaction to Will’s command. He can feel the hardness between his legs, straining against his trousers, and he wants nothing more than to take Will over the desk in that instant.
Watching Will get dressed in a slow manner that can only be deliberate, he tries another approach. “Surely you are not intending to drive this evening?” Hannibal asks.
“I’m sobering up now,” Will shrugs, watching Hannibal as he zips up his trousers, then buttons his shirt.
“You are still impaired, Will, and Wolf Trap is too far away. If you mean to return here in the morning anyway, let me drive you back to my home,” Hannibal wets his lips with a flick of his tongue. “You may use one of the guest rooms.”
Will scoffs. “Like you intend for me to stay in one of your guest rooms.”
It’s not a no.
“It is your choice, Will. Please,” Hannibal shifts a little, uncertain if it’s his position or his erection that’s causing him more discomfort. “My guests are likely gone by now, and I assume the staff has cleaned up sufficiently. Allow me to offer you accommodations for the evening.”
Will seems to consider this as he finishes getting dressed and puts the whiskey and glass into a drawer in his desk. “I guess it does cut my trip in half… Wait. You had guests?”
“Indeed,” Hannibal replies, his fingers and toes curling and uncurling in an attempt to channel his energy into something.
“You… abandoned a dinner party to--” Will cuts himself off with a laugh. “All right. I’ll spend the night in your guest room,” he says the last part while gesturing air quotes with his hands.
“Excellent,” Hannibal says with some strain in his voice, lifting a hand to rotate it at the wrist. “Now, may I stand so we can be on our way?”
A pleased smile eases its way onto Will’s face, and he holds out a hand to Hannibal. “Sure, Doctor. Let’s go.”