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Hannigram #shortstory #hanniballecter #WillGraham
🔥 Trusting 🔥
How many instants is happiness made up of? Is it measurable, chronologically speaking?
Hannibal had been aware of it since Will Graham. With him he had known the unhappiness felt only by those who love without being loved and, thanks to him, the joy of those lucky enough to share such love.
- When did you know, dear? - Sitting on Will, both naked, life seems easier.
There wasn't a day that skin to skin they expressed their feelings. Not one. Hannibal longed to make up for the long wait and Will, well, Hannibal wasn't sure why Will did things. With Will nothing could be taken for granted.
- When we were apart.
It was three years living in his mental palace. Will's smile in each of his rooms, his blue eyes shining for him. For Hannibal's mental palace was filled not only with what happened but also with the dreams that lived only in his heart in the hope of taking shape.
- You were with that woman - Hannibal, knowing full well why, never said her name.
- I was. And no. She was a ghost, Hannibal. A dissociation continues.
Hannibal kisses him and Will wraps his arms around him. They burn, they always burn.
- Why, Will? I let myself be trapped by you, you know that.
- You knew I'd come back.
- No, I wanted to believe you would. It's different, mylimasis.
Will falls silent and Hannibal runs his fingertip over his face. He knows it by heart, every corner of it. So many times he'd drawn it and so many times he'd felt it tremble under his touch.
- I wanted to forget you. To forget who I was when I was with you. I was afraid, it's not something I'm proud of.
- You took refuge in the safe, in the conventional. And in the meantime, you shut down - Hannibal smiles, but it's a sad smile. Was it worth it?
Was it? It was quiet while it lasted, Will was able to get peace on many occasions. The life that was socially accepted, a good life in the eyes of the world.
- I don't know. Sometimes I think about...Molly. She didn't deserve any of what happened. In my own way, I loved her.
- And it wasn't enough.
- No, it wasn't," he holds Hannibal by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. Why are we talking about this?
- Because you never do. It's okay to trust, beloved. You can trust me, I'm not going anywhere.
Will clenches his fist because he knows it's true. Hannibal was a steady rock, he felt like the waves breaking on the beach. Sometimes they came in steady, sometimes they died before they reached it.
- You know I love you," he replies.
- I know, but for how long, Will? When will you leave?
How many moments make up happiness? Can it be measured in days, minutes, years?
The two men's lives were measured in the meals Hannibal cooked for Will every day, in how Will taught him to fish by sharing with him something important in his life. It was measured, too, in the moans that flooded the house daily, and how they both begged for more.
- I'll be here as long as you want me to be. As long as I want to be. And that won't change as long as I love you, Mr. Insecure.
Hannibal pushes him onto the bed, straddling him. He takes Will's cock and centres himself until he's lowered a little, feeling it throb inside him. Will grabs his waist, not pressing down yet. His fingers are saying Hannibal is his.
- I'll have to make it hard for you, then," Hannibal moves lower, stifling a moan. Just to make sure happiness is on my side.
Will nods, transforming his grip into a mute request. I'm yours now, I was yours then, and I'll be yours tomorrow.
