✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

27

WARNING: smut

Didn't wanna ruin the surprise but... I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable 😂🥰🤘🏼Hope you enjoy! (P.S. Author's note at the bottom)

Will's hands gripped the steering wheel, the white and yellow lines blurring and dancing around his head like strobe lights as he sped down the road. He blinked through watery eyes, his current self not having any idea of where he was going but his subconscious knowing all. And it kept his stomach tight and tingling, his heart pounding through his entire body.

    One hour later, with many drunken swerves, Will arrived at Hannibal's house, the sky dark and littered with stars. He clambered out of the car, sobered only slightly, and walked up to the front door, knocking on it.

    Will slumped against the door, closing his eyes for a while. The door gave under him, and he tripped, standing straight and meeting Lecter's gaze. His stomach tingled, but a sudden wave of embarrassment flushed through his cheeks, his eyes locking onto Hannibal's.

    "You've been drinking," said Hannibal a matter-of-factly, peering his head out the door to glance at Graham's car. Will couldn't help but lean forward, nose brushing against Hannibal's neck as he inhaled drunkenly, shivers running down his body. "Did you drive under-the-influence?"

    Will ran a hand over his face, brows furrowed and head spinning. "Can I..." he mumbled. "...Come in?"

    Hannibal gave him a weary look, eyes stern, but he sighed and gave in, stepping away from the door to let Will through. He swayed, brushing past Hannibal and taking off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack rather clumsily. Hannibal helped him.

    "You need to sober up," said Hannibal, pressing a hand against the swan of Will's back and leading him towards the office. Will swallowed, shivers running down his spine at the contact. "It's unfair to speak with you in this state."

    He opened the office door, and Will carefully made his way inside, shoving his hands in his pockets. He sat down in his usual chair, resting his head against the back of it, his neck exposed. Hannibal's eyes lingered on the expanse of skin, and he composed himself, fetching some water.

    He returned with a tall glass, grabbing Will's hand to take hold of it.

    "Drink," said Hannibal firmly. "You need to wash out the alcohol in your system."

    "But what if I want it to stay," mumbled Will, staring at the glass of water. His fingers tightened on it, and Hannibal sat across the chair from him, gaze steady and unwavering.

    "Tell me, Will," he said softly. "Why did you drink tonight?" He tilted his head. "Why did you come here to see me in this state?"

    Will shifted in his seat, setting down the glass of water on the floor. Hannibal glanced at it, raising a brow.

    "I'm still processing," said Will, "the... gravity... of what you really are."

    "It's hard to process things when you're drunk."

    "You're Death, Hannibal," he snapped. "That's hard to process even when you're sober." He scoffed, glancing aside and shaking his head. "You know—how did you even manage to keep it hidden for so long? And from me? You—you led me away from the truth. And I blundered on obliviously!" His eyes glimmered with scorn as he glared at Hannibal, blinking through blurry eyes. "Do you know how humiliating that is?

    "And—and I talked to you about Death. You!" In his spur of anger, he leaned down and gulped some water, ashamed to meet Hannibal's eyes. "This entire time, you knew. And you had fun with my pain. You manipulated me."