#difficulty level impossible

after the fall, still healing from their injuries, they're intimate for the first time. it was bound to happen, hannibal felt the tension building, knew it was a matter of time until they were both well enough. it had been so long, years of oscillation, revolving around each other, violently close but never enough to touch. he wanted it, and he wanted to make it good for will. will had never asked, never pushed, never touched him more than he wanted. still, the pressure to perform was enormous.

in their sweet touches, their heated breaths, all hannibal can think about is what if this is it. what if im not enough. what if this is the moment he realizes im not what he wants. that everything, this swirling intensity, their mutual destruction, their rebirth. what if the hunt was what excited him? and hannibal is prey that wasn't worth the chase. he must've touched molly like this, countless other women. maybe even other men. hannibal knew how to satisfy a lover, he felt no shame in that. but will wouldn't want that. he wouldn't want doctor lecter, in all his practiced perfection, his measured pleasure, his feeble satisfaction. he would know. he wants hannibal, in all his scars in weakness, here in this cabin at the end of the world, nothing but the two of them. no one left to entertain. he's not sure if he can.

the last person he was honest with, he was forced to swallow her whole, and any person beneath him who dared disturb his isolated world followed suit. everyone except will. undone by his weakness, forced to his knees in his acceptance, he is terrified of what might happen to his soft heart if we were to lay it in wills hands. terrified that rather than kiss it tenderly or crush it in his palms, will may not want it at all. disgusted by the gesture, bored by his desperation, he would set it down and leave it to the bitter cold. will was not a stranger to changing his mind, after all. it wouldn't be the first time.

hannibal wouldn't say this, he won't. he'll find ways to suck it between his teeth, make these first few times nothing but beautiful and good. he'll wait until he can control it, a whispered confession, with dry eyes. the overwhelming tenderness of their bodies, burning each other in the heat, the whispered praises under his breath. hannibal can't focus on it, his cock barely half hard from anxiety. he won't, he won't, he won't. he knows will's hands are stilling, knows he's gently asking if he's okay. he can't fuck this up, can't destroy this like hes done to them over and over and over. hannibal is ruining, soiling what they could be with his disgusted vulnerability, the pathetic juttering of his weak heart.

hannibal, with his endless cruelty, the ways he's picked and prodded and pulled at will. the way he's broken him, ripped everything from him and watched him twitch and convulse with nothing left. after all the wrong he has done, it can't be in this moment, that the childish desperation, that his weak, pulsating parts are when will has had enough. hannibal's humanity can't be thing that will rejects.

it bursts open, and he sobs, weak in a way will hadn't see him since will had been under him, bleeding out from his stomach, hannibal soaked in the rain. rather than being changed by will, maybe he was just broken. broken by his desire, his hunger so strong he ate himself from the inside out. he crashed against the current of the ocean, and shattered into the sea. would will still want him if it meant having to put him back together?

and will stops, hands hovering over hannibal as he winces in anticipation, certain that will must not want to touch him for what he is now. for the weakness that has rested in his heart, unseen and now grossly on display. hannibal screws his eyes tight, feels the hot tears dampening his cheeks, the shuddering in his shoulders. it feels like the absolute worst moment to be seen like this, regret twisting his stomach and burning holes into the image of their intimacy.

will's touches return, gentle and caring. consoling, kind. hannibal meets his eyes and they are watery with love. tears beading in his eyelashes, honored at the privilege to see hannibal in moments no one else has. not in a very, very long time. forever bestowed the role of his undoing. god, in awe of his creation as it lives under his guiding hand.