Tell me about your dreams

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#Hannigram #WillGraham #Hannibal #Short Story

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#Hannigram #WillGraham #Hannibal #Short Story

Will's dreams were full of Hannibal. In them the freedom of being gave him wings and, in it, Will forgot even his own name.

Repeating only his own.

Months of therapy only made the situation worse, and every time Will went to Hannibal's office, something inside him would come together a little.
What would it be like, to feel wanted by him, loved? Will often wondered.

- What's on his mind?

Hannibal's deep voice draws Will back into the world. On you, he wants to tell him, on the importance of my dreams. That you're a constant in them. That I've never been with any man but that fear is dust compared to what I feel.

- Jack has asked me to take a break.

Hannibal nods. He knows about Will's instability.

- Does he feel unstable?

- Not particularly.

Will hasn't dissociated for months. He's known for months that his feet are firmly on the ground, or at least much firmer than they've ever been. Since the dreams.

- I'll talk to Jack. I haven't seen any glimmer of instability for a long time. If that's what you want, Will.

I want you. Will bites his lower lip and looks at Hannibal's lips in turn. In his dreams they are hard, gentle. In his dreams they belong to him.

- Thank you. Dr. Lecter.

- How long have we known each other? Call me Hannibal.

Hannibal rises from his chair. Will follows his gaze to the desk, where he opens one of the drawers and pulls out several sheets of paper. He puts one of them on the table and returns to Will with the other in his hands.

- I want to show you something - Hannibal reaches out and hands him the sheet.

And Will's world shakes a little, just a little, just enough to take his mind back to those dreams he never thought would come true. His hand trembles slightly as he holds the leaf, his eyes shining happily.
It is one of Hannibal's sketches. In it, Will himself, naked, sleeps peacefully in what could well be Hannibal's bed. I wish it were Hannibal's bed, he thinks.

- I wanted you to see it to clarify the situation once and for all, Will. I'm not blind. Although - he smiles - it looks like you are.

- How did you...? - Will doesn't know what he means, his head is spinning.

- Tell me about your dreams.

- My dreams. Tell me about yours, please," he asks.

- I don't dream, Will. I live. I express, I elevate you beyond the Sun. You are too important. What do you see, in that sketch?

Will looks at himself again, calm, in such a conventional situation that he smiles at the realisation that in Hannibal's heart he too has made a place for himself.

- Everydayness. Peace. I sleep peacefully as I haven't done since I was a child. In your bed, or so I hope. Your sheets, maybe you've just fucked me and that's why I'm resting.

- Is that what happens, in your dreams?

- Yes - Will reaches out to return the drawing to him.

- Keep it. A reminder of how it all began.

Hannibal gets up and stands in front of Will, lifting him off the chair by the shoulders. He feels him tremble, avert his gaze. His sweet Will. He catches the blue of his eyes in the amber that are his own and leans down to kiss him. Her adored Will, her obsession hidden from the world.

- Hannibal... I...

- Trust me. I've been wanting to do this as long as you've been dreaming, darling.

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal's neck as he kisses him. What that kiss hides is a spark that ignites a fire between the two of them, too long trying to put to sleep a passion that could hardly be ignored. Hannibal's tongue pushes against Will's lips which immediately open for him, mingling with his own, tasting the man who has caused him to wake up soaked in sweat, his cock hard.

- You just have to ask, I'm not going to force anything on you.

Hannibal kisses Will on the forehead, and the act is so intimate that Will feels like crying.

- Take me there," Will replies. To your drawing. That room, that bed, those sheets. Then fuck me, Hannibal. Yes. That's just what I want.

- I'll break you. I'll break you and put the pieces back together only to break them again.

- I don't care. I'm not afraid.

- Dear Will. You have me. And I'm not sure that's the right thing to do.

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