The Smoke [Hannigram]

Chapter 8. Love Is A Dead-End Street

Love is clockworks,
And it's cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel

Love is blindness

A little death
Without mourning

Will moaned as he felt the promise being sealed with a stinging bite on his neck, then with another one and another until he had lost count, and it didn't matter much since the effect was all the same. It took less than a minute for Will to come undone and become a complete mess of trembling limbs, almost going limp while he kept giving away pitiful, begging whimpers.

And then Hannibal abruptly stopped to look him in the eyes, his mouth open and decorated with blood as he spoke, "It doesn't have to involve this kind of intimacy between us. If it's too much for you, Will, I won't force my carnal intentions upon you ever again. Just say the word."

Oh, the last resort. Will scowled, then it hit him, and the blurry memories of the last night's conversation returned, striking him like the lightning, causing his heart to ache in an unfamiliar way. "Yesterday... I was a little overwhelmed, that's all."

"I don't wish to confuse you. You asked for time. Shouldn't I keep my word then?" Hannibal stepped back; not enough to take the body warmth away, yet enough to make Will's heart beat faster in fear of being denied.

"I'll be more confused if you stop," Will answered in a low voice. The other man regarded him silently, the seconds stretching out like a little eternity. Will waited, suspended in time, watching the murky eyes scrutinize him with great care.

"I would tend to all your needs should you truly require me to. What you want, and what you need, however, may not be the same thing at the moment. I care deeply for your well-being, Will. I apologise if my recent behaviour has indicated anything else. Yesterday was-"

Will's eyes sparkled with sheer fire. He didn't allow the other to finish, and he felt a mild wave of nausea raging inside as he inquired, agitated, "An accident? A mistake? Are you the one now to indulge in regret?"

Hannibal tilted his head a bit, and Will could swear it reminded him of one of those curious facial expressions from their shared past. An unnerving image of Hannibal clinging to his professional facade.

"No, of course not," the man put it simply, voice irritatingly placid, but his dark irises were glistening dangerously. "I have no regrets."

Will shook his head, then huffed in disbelief, "Are you... Are you trying to psychoanalyse me?" Blue eyes locked up with Hannibal's to search for the right answer as Will raised his tone, "Would like to put on your doctor suit and have a conversation about my mental health? Well, I imagine it's way beyond ethics when you yourself are the other party involved."

"William, please." Hannibal eyed the brunet with flickering emotion, and it bored holes inside him, heating him up, the fury sinking low in the chest. It was too compassionate, felt like pity, and in a moment Will found his body shaking because of utterly different reasons than he wished for. It wasn't until now that he fully realised how much angst lived within the walls of his subconsciousness, stayed hidden in the flaming blood, currently rushing fast through his veins to fuel the exasperation.

"You don't have to wear a person suit in front of me, Hannibal, don't have to feel obligated to. I accept what lies underneath. You can be yourself around me." Will gritted his teeth, face wincing visibly. "So be raw like you're supposed to."

Within short-lived seconds Hannibal's hands landed on Will who had closed his eyes shut, anticipating the predatory attack, the sharp consequences of his ugly tone and unpolished attitude. It didn't come, however, and soon he gasped helplessly, tender kisses scattered against his hairline. Will tried to break away from the unexpected kindness but to no avail.