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It had been an easy day; tending to the garden, walking the dogs, preparing meals for the week. Nothing extravagant, nothing too thrilling; just an easy, simple day. Dinner was met with enticing conversation and subtle, all knowing glances. Followed by some grass, rolled up into thin papers, and smoked slowly, savoring each earthy puff. They sat on the couch, floating in the warm, summer air seeping through their Italian villa. An old Gregory Peck film playing on the television. Neither of them were really paying attention, too distracted by the dogs snoring and the whistling breeze coming from the windows. Will looks over at Hannibal, whose eyes are crimson and glassy. He quietly begs for connection. And almost as if Hannibal could read his mind, he beckons him over.
Hannibal turns his head, gazing deeply at Will. He reaches out a hand and speaks, "Come here."
Will crawls over. The two men slide down on the couch, laying on their sides, Will turned away from the tv and facing Hannibal. Hannibal begins running his fingers through Will's hair, gently scraping his scalp. Will closes his eyes and hums softly, soothed by the feeling of gentle fingertips on his skin. He loved when Hannibal massaged his head, he was so good with his hands. Will's hand rests on Hannibal's hip, rubbing up and down on his thigh.
Will thinks back to a time where physical touch was foreign to him. His mother wasn't in the picture growing up and his father was too old and stubborn to be physically affectionate. Partners throughout the years never felt comfortable enough for the vulnerabilty of non-sexual touching. Will pretended like it didn't hurt, like he didn't crave it. Truth was… He just wanted to lay his head on someone's chest, feel their breath going in and out, listen to the rhythm of their heartbeat. When the physical nature of his and Hannibal's relationship finally came to fruition, he was incredibly nervous at first. It was deeply, horrendously intimate and tender and it was with a man. Will never would have guessed he would end up here. The brushing of knuckles quickly became hand holding which turned into back rubs and earth shattering sex and then came the part Will feared, the afterglow. He was fully prepared to turn the lights off, roll over and just go to sleep. But Hannibal yanked him by the hips, pulled him close to his chest, kissed his forehead and traced his spine. It was overwhelming. Will cried that night; more than he had cried in years.
"What's on your mind?" Hannibal's low, raspy voice brings Will out of his thoughts.
Will looks at him warmly and offers a half smile. "Just thinking about what this means to me… how you touch me…"
Hannibal, always wanting to know Will's honest feelings about him, decides to push further. "What does it mean to you?"
Will feels hazy, relaxed. "Security… The feeling of being known, seen, and loved…"
Hannibal takes Will's hand from his hip and brings the back of it to his cheeks, rubbing his knuckles on his skin. "It's abhorrent to me that I'm the first one to be this way with you… I can't imagine being in your presence and not wanting every inch of you close to me…"
Will feels his cheeks burn. He speaks earnestly. "I'm glad you're the first. It means more. It's special. You see all of me, no pretense necessary. You touch me and it's all of me. Not just what I put out to everyone else. You touch the dark, icky, sticky parts too."
The two men share a look, going over that last comment again. They burst into giggles.
Hannibal sighs. "This marijuana is very good."
"It makes you quieter so yes, it's definitely very good," Will teases.
Hannibal frowns, playing along. "You hate me."
Will smiles wide. He leans in, pressing his lips to Hannibal's cheek. "I hate you so much…" He kisses Hannibal's nose. "I hate you yesterday, today, and tomorrow," He kisses Hannibal's lips. "I hate you now and for the rest of time."
Hannibal smirks, as happy as ever. "What a long life of pure devotion for one man."
Will scrunches his nose. He wants to win this tit for tat. His brain is buzzing from the weed and he can't come up with anything other than, "You're stupid."
Hannibal has to keep himself from laughing. He pulls Will in by his waist, wrapping his arms around him. He takes a different approach. "Oh no, you love me. You're sick with adoration and warmth. You love me so much." He gets close and kisses across Will's neck, making goosebumps run across the other man's skin.
Will's eyelids flutter and he gets briefly distracted. "No. You're dumb and stupid and stinky."
Hannibal laughs brightly. "That's the final straw. I can handle cruel remarks about my intelligence but to insinuate that I smell bad… You're in for it, Agent Graham."
Will blushes intensely at the nickname.
In a flash, Hannibal scoots down on the couch and quickly lifts up Will's shirt. He comes to his stomach, presses his lips onto his skin and blows a loud, echoing bubble on his stomach. Will squeals, simultaneously loving and hating the feeling. He tries his best to move out of Hannibal's death grip but he can't. He pushes Hannibal by the tops of his shoulders but nothing works. The older man is stronger, much to his dismay.
"Fuck off!" Will laughs loudly as Hannibal repeats the motion over and over.
Hannibal comes back up to Will's face. The walls are down and he can't handle the beautiful chime of Will's laughter ringing in the air. He's overcome with emotion. Hannibal whispers in Will's ear, taking his hand. "You are my every heartbeat. You are every speck of stardust in the sky. You are formidable and you make me ache tortuously with want. I crave you in every conceivable way."
Will pulls away, looking at Hannibal with big, desperate eyes. He inches in, closing his eyes, brushing his nose against Hannibal's before he gently connects their lips together. He kisses him soft and slow. He exhales and mutters against Hannibal's lips. "You sure know how to get lucky, huh?" Hannibal looks at him with hopeful, twinkling eyes. "Let's go upstairs."
Before Will can stand up off the couch, Hannibal scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder, like it's nothing. Will laughs and shouts out obscene insults as Hannibal brings them up the stairs. Hannibal would never take offense to them. He knows it's a convoluted expression of love.
Hannibal takes Will into the master bedroom and lays him on the mattress. The rest of the night is full of long, aching moans, the rolling and connection of hips, and warm, glistening skin against silk sheets. Hannibal was right. This weed was magnificent.