There she stood, blood splattered all over her. Blood stained her hands and arms, reaching the rolled-up sleeves of her button-up shirt. Splatters of dried, congealed blood adorned her face, shirt, pants, shoes, the surrounding walls in the kitchen, and the floor. The walls that held the house up seemed to be moving. They were closing in on her and stealing the oxygen right along with it.
The walls were surrounding her, shrinking in size. Her vision blurred and doubled. Focusing on the front door, she stumbled outside, trying to gulp in the air though it still seemed difficult to.
She didn’t understand how, one minute, she was outside watching the Hobbs girl and Dr. Lecter being gurney away, and the next, she was back in the house for God knows how long.
Cold air enveloped her, relieving her dampened and overheated face. Will gasped, attempting to draw in deep breaths. Her lungs seemed to malfunction, even though she was now in an open area again. She still struggled to breathe.
Hands grasped her face and tilted her head up. She exhaled and she made eye contact with someone.
She tried to pull away from the hands that held and caressed her face. Finally, she focused and recognized the face as Dr. Lecter’s. She shushed her and helped her calm her breathing.
“Will, Willow Graham, shh, it’s okay,” Dr. Lecter repeated.
When Will finally comprehended what was being said, she lifted her arms and clutched Dr. Lecter’s soft cashmere sweater—a garment she knew she wasn’t wearing earlier that day. She noticed the smudges of dried blood on her sleeve, now marred by her hands.
Staring down, eyes on her hand, she couldn’t help but feel overstimulated. The way the blood felt sticky and tacky when her fingers tapped each other made her want to crawl out of herself.
Fixated and staring down at her own hands it felt like the blood would stain and absorb into her skin. The coppery smell clung to her, becoming her new cologne, or what had become her new cologne for the past hours.
She knew that if she dared to look at her clothes, the blood she found would seep into them and spread across her body. It wouldn’t be limited to the front of her hands, arms, shirt, and pant legs.
She would resemble the girls Hobbs had taken, pierced by antlers and drained of blood. Perhaps she would resemble Jesus, whom Longinus, the Roman soldier, pierced on the cross, causing blood and water to flow and cover him whole.
The blood she saw on her skin would seep into her pores, disappearing from sight but still there, a part of her. It would be a metamorphosis—absorbed into her, killing her, and bringing out something deep and inner out. Something she’s tried to keep out. Buried within her tied up. But it’s crawling slowly.
It would be challenging for her to forget what she had done, what Garrett Jacob Hobbs had done.
She would carry this bloodshed with her forever, stained within her. It would be akin to a priest keeping the confession of a murderer, wearing it on their sleeves as a perpetual burden, a testament to God Almighty. And yet she couldn’t help but disagree with being in a confessional booth telling her sins. It didn’t feel like a sin to her.
It felt the exact opposite and maybe that was sin in itself, for how a quick second she delighted in the macabre.
Attempting to push away from Dr. Lecter was a struggle, and she quickly surrendered. Despite her petite triangular frame, she possessed an inner strength that prevented her from escaping. Her sweater probably hid the muscles she had.
Inadvertently releasing a trembling exhale, she tried to pull away. Will didn’t want to be perceived as weak. She wasn’t a small child in need of care.
She needed space. She would be fine, eventually, as she always was after delving into the minds of killers, even before meeting Jack Crawford.
Once she caught her breath and fully grounded herself into reality, Will planned to go to the police department to drop off her bloody clothes and then head to the hospital. She wanted to see how Abigail Hobbs was faring and if she would make it through the night.
Seeing Dr. Lecter here and the lack of mention of Abigail made Will think that she wasn’t in critical danger any longer and was at least stable enough not to be a current concern. However, Dr. Lecter probably didn’t want to exacerbate her anxiety, which proved that Will’s desire, no, her need to go to the hospital was justified despite the late hour. There was a chance that visiting hours would be over by the time she would arrive.
She wanted to go and check if the poor girl they had now orphaned was still alive and breathing, even if she had tubes down her throat. Will imagined her chest moving rhythmically, synced with the beeping of monitors and the pulsing of her own heart.
Releasing a stuttering breath, she stopped trying to distance herself from Dr. Lecter’s presence and looked up at her, making brief eye contact. Hannibal may have been a few inches taller, but with her pounding migraine, Will’s head wanted to assert itself, reminding her of the skull-crushing pain. Her head throbbed, and the pressure behind her eyes made her feel as if she had shrunk, trapped within herself.
Dr. Lecter once again tried to get her attention. This reminded her of when her father would tower over her during her meltdowns, or “fits” as others would call them. Words that could reduce any child or teenager to tears would pour out. Shaking her head to snap back from her memories, a movement she instantly regretted, she heard Dr. Lecter speaking gently to her.
“It amazed me that no one helped or accompanied you to the police department to get these clothes off and into an evidence bag. All the people here just left you. The sun is setting, and here you are. Did anyone call? Did anyone check up on you to see where you were, Will?”
Feeling Dr. Lecter’s fingers push her blood-crusted hair behind her ear, Will looked up at her, feeling her gaze burn into her. She couldn’t stand it, so she kept her eye contact fixed on the bridge of Dr. Lecter’s nose. Dr. Lecter raised her hand and touched Will’s cheek. Will could feel her feverish heat and found solace in Dr. Lecter’s cool touch–a small balm to her never-ending migraine.
Will shook her head, no longer wanting to be in contact with anyone and simply yearning to be free. The inside of her skin itched. She wanted to run or fidget, to find her car and leave this dreadful place that wasn’t her home, to shed the presence of Garrett Jacob Hobbs and go to her daughter—no, Garrett Jacob Hobbs's daughter.
Grimacing, Will mentally notes to cross out Jacob’s name with a big red marker, just like she would when correcting her students’ work. He was no longer her father, and he never would be again.
Hannibal stood there, holding onto Will for a while. Then, when Will’s breathing was under control and no longer seemed frantic, she let her go. They both pulled away from each other and took a small step back.
“How did you know I was here? Looked at other places first?” Will huffs out. She looks up at Hannibal’s face and sees a smile emerge.
“It’s true that I am surprised that nobody had offered to take you to the police station or even mentioned it. I thought you would have informed Jack about the call to the Minnesota Shrike before they could apprehend him. Instead, our dear Jack learned about it from the report sent to him after leaving the courthouse.”
“And yet he didn’t call to see if his– what did you say he thought I was? Oh yeah, his fragile little teacup. Surprised he hadn’t called me to see if I had fractured.”
“Jack had mentioned before that if you weren’t at the hospital, you would be drowning your sorrows at a bar nearby. Tell me, Will, do you drown your sorrows often with a vice in hand?”
Will snorted at that. Turning her body away from Hannibal. “I’ve been too known to over drink on occasions when it’s needed.”
Hannibal believed Will might seek solace in alcohol, she didn’t think she would want to be around people in her current state. Perhaps she would have gone back to her motel room and drown her sorrows there.
Hannibal suddenly realized a possible place where Will could be found. Her Will had returned to the Hobbs’ house. Hannibal had wondered why she’d gone from the police station back to the Hobbs’ house instead of rushing to the hospital.
She had expected Will to do the latter, given how deeply she reacted to shooting Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Instead, Hannibal had seen her rushing out of the house panicking. Another epiphany struck her that day.
The mongoose she claimed to be never left. She had gone back inside, under the house, waiting to strike another snake again. She had been there for hours, covered in blood and magnificent. She was allowing the world to see her as she was truly meant to be seen.
“Let’s go to the police station and drop off your clothes. You can also wash up, and then we can join Abigail at the hospital. I’m sure we can convince the nurses to let us stay a little longer past visiting hours,” Hannibal suggested, grabbing Will’s hands and pulling her towards Willow’s car. She made it a point that she would be driving instead.
Will began patting herself down, searching for her keys. All she found in her pockets was her wallet.
Hannibal let WIll release herself as she went back into the house, to retrieve her keys. When she returned, she waved her hand up to the side of her face holding the keys by the carabiner jingling it, and then tossing it to Hannibal.
Hannibal moves to open the passenger door for Will to step in. Closing the door behind her, Hannibal walked around to get into the driver’s seat.
She puts the key in the ignition and turns the car on. The car purrs to life. The heater turns on and blows out warm air, slowly warming them up. Turning her head to the side as she pulled out of the driveway, she saw Will looking towards the house. She heard her let out a deep sigh.
Will, stared at the house and watched as it got smaller and disappeared from her peripheral vision. She was glad she had the foresight to bring her to-go bag with her. She had planned to check out of the hotel and leave that night to go back home.
When walking into the building, Will was surprised to see that the police station wasn’t still busy after all that had happened. She had thought there would be reporters, victims of families, and workers filing reports.
Shrugging, she grabbed an evidence bag before heading to the small showers they had there. She strips and places her clothes in there and then goes to the shower stall, turning on the water. Hot water steams out and is quickly turning lukewarm.
Not wanting to stay there for a long amount of time, Will made sure the dried, sticky blood flakes on her skin washed off. She looks to the ground and sees the water tinged red swirling away into the drain. Despite not wanting to stay longer, the swirling water puts her in a trance, and she stands there longer than necessary. Her head pounding, she turns off the water and drags her hand down her face trying to wipe the wetness away.
Gathering the evidence bag with her clothes in it, she gave it to an officer who she saw was at the crime scene earlier so they could drop it off in the evidence room for her. She fills out a quick paper and then goes to find Hannibal. The quicker she could find her, the quicker they could go to the hospital and see Abigail.
Not knowing anyone personally there, Will goes to the front desk wondering if she could ask the secretary if they knew where Hannibal was, probably directing her towards someplace. When she got there though, she saw Hannibal talking to the secretary with a neutral mask settled onto her face. Not exactly neutral but it’s hard to read—even for her. Hannibal noticed her and gave her a slight nod, smiling genuinely at her.
There, she stops at the door to wait for Hannibal to say goodbye to the front desk secretary. She looked at her and passed a card to her. Dr. Lecter looks at the card between her fingers before taking out her wallet from her pocket. There, she slips the card seamlessly into it and puts the wallet away.
Will couldn’t help but envision Hannibal in her three-piece suit, like the one she’s now seen her wear a few different times, taking the card and putting it into the left side of the breast pocket.
The feeling of Deja Vu caused her to shudder. She felt when they had done this earlier, from talking to a secretary to then going to see the Hobbs. Hannibal turned and walked towards her. Both of them walked out and then into Dr. Lecter’s car. Off they were going to the hospital.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived and went up to the front desk to ask to see Abigail’s room. The security there was beginning to tell them that visiting hours were over in the section of the hospital they were headed to.
Will, already anxious and irritated, just wanted to see Abigail. She pulled out her temporary FBI badge and told security, “FBI special agent Willow Graham and Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Just let us in. It’s not like we’ll be in here all night.”
The security sighed, as he typed into the computer and logged them in. They hand them blank visitor name tags and a pen.
Both Hannibal and Will scribbled their names onto their guest stickers before sticking them onto their person, and off they walked towards the elevators to go see the girl they orphaned.
Hearing the machine first before her eyes lay on Abigail made Will tense up her shoulders. Looking around the room, she saw that there were two chairs, one on each side of Abigail's bed.
There in the middle of the room, she was. Incubated with tubes to keep her breathing and connected to IVs and monitors. The same beeping monitors that Will first heard, standing in the doorway. Shoulders and back tensing again. She rolled them before letting out a sigh and walked in.
She stared at her on the bed lying almost lifeless and couldn’t help but think of Jairus in the Bible. How he must have felt when Jesus told him his daughter was just asleep and not dead. Not possible, unbelievable, incapable. And despite her being shown with her eyes, Abigail’s chest was moving. The sound of the monitors sent a balm to her anxious heart at seeing her still.
She couldn’t help thinking that to her, it felt like she didn’t save Abigail at all. That she had condemned and murdered her future. Made her into an orphan. Wouldn’t it have been kinder for her to not be alive?
She didn’t say this thought out loud, and she hoped Dr. Lecter—Hannibal who kept telling her to call her by her first name—the fucking psychiatrist, couldn’t read it from her body language. Though she knew. She knew Dr. Lecter could, from previous conversations they’d had. It seemed Dr. Lecter had a keen eye for analyzing body language too well.
The spot further from the door seemed more alluring to sit. She dragged the chair closer to the bed and sat down. She reached to grab Abigail’s hand to be held in hers. She squeezes every once in a while.
After spending hours sitting in their chair, the machine's beeping sent Hannibal and Will to doze off. Will wakes from Dr. Lecter standing over her, slightly shaking her shoulder. She looked up bleary-eyed and stretched her limbs, feeling pins and needles on her legs.
Hannibal looked down at Will and smiled softly. Her eyes were still glazed with sleep, but slowly awakening and becoming cognizant. “I think it’s late enough, and we should head back to our hotels.”
Hannibal and Will decided to call it a night and go back to their motels and hotels. Hannibal held out her hand for Will to take and help her up. But Will shrugged her away when she got up and began walking towards the door. They both turned to look at Abigail for a second and then turned back around to leave.
“This is not the way to my motel Dr. Lecter,” Will chewed and elongated her name, her voice tired.
Half of her body leaned against the car door as she looked out the window at cars passing by. The sight of the motel Will was supposed to be dropped off at slowly grew smaller and smaller in her field of vision. The motel eventually disappeared entirely as she glanced at the rearview mirror.
Dr. Lecter hummed in response. Minutes had passed in silence with her not saying anything else. Will bounced and tapped her knees, and when she realized that she probably looked twitchy, Hannibal could tell she was tensed with the lack of response. The silence was palpable for those few minutes. But she didn’t choose to break the silence.
Hannibal gently spoke softly in her European accent, “No, it’s not Will, how very keen of you. We’re going back to my hotel, where they have a nice spacious bathtub. I think a nice hot bath would do you wonders, then using your motel’s showers that probably ran cold waters. Think of it as a glorified slumber party or sleepover, if you will.”
Will glanced at her, “Little girls always have fun in sleepovers until it’s time to sleep, and then there’s one always having nightmares and having to call their parents to pick them up, Dr. Lecter. Maybe I’m just that girl who has a nightmare and has to leave.”
Seemingly not bothered by her response, Hannibal kept looking forward and continued to drive.
“Or maybe I can help you overcome said nightmares and teach you it’s okay not to run and hide?”
Will huffed at her and then winced at the sharp pain in her head. Feeling every little bump in the road, the never-ending throb began to pulse and ache more. The pain intensified tenfold. If pins and needles were shoved into her eyes and moved around it would hurt less. Her stiff neck and shoulders felt like it was impossible to even slightly relax.
“Do you have any painkillers in here?” She hummed, a hand touching her forehead and sliding down to scratch her jaw.
“I do not. If we’re to continue working together perhaps I’ll carry some for you. If you think this is going to be an ongoing problem.”
“S’alright I’ll ask the desk lady if they could bring one up while I bathe. And don’t start with that.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were in front of a fancy hotel—or as luxurious as she could probably get in the small midwestern city. Will, in the end, didn’t care. She just wanted to retreat inside the hotel room, immerse herself in an almost scalding hot bath, and get over with sleeping, knowing there would be nightmares. Who cared if she was forced to have some sort of a glorified slumber party.
Two grown adults sleeping off their tiredness together, only to go back to the hospital the following day. Or she’ll have terrible nightmares and still go back to the hospital. Either way, she would not be leaving the state immediately to go back home like she had planned earlier. As they made their way to the room, each step felt like shedding a layer of the day’s burdens.
While she undressed, the steaming hot bath called her name. On the counter, she noticed a bottle of soap to make a bubble bath. Will took it, added it to the bathtub, and turned off the faucet. The smell reminded her of the late summer or early Autumn breeze. There was a small area from her garden where lavender would bloom, and the winds would carry the notes to where she sat. There, she would have her warm cup of tea, never without a splash of bourbon in it.
Will mixed it with her hand, and the bubbles started to rise. She slipped in and groaned at how the hot water felt against her skin. The hot water cradled her and lulled her into a small space of safety and relaxation. She scooted back and leaned back, letting her head rest against the wall. She closed her eyes for just a minute.
When she opened them again to see the water she cupped into her hand to pour over her shoulders, she noticed the water looking blood-like. The blood-like liquid in her hands had red bubbles which were tinged red, it smelled like copper, and the water felt thicker. She automatically lifted her arms out of the water and when she looked at her hands she was holding a gun in one. She quickly dropped the gun and it splashed back into the blood-filled tub. Gray-colored hands popped out of the blood-filled tub near her feet and grabbed at her ankles. Something was pulling her back in when she tried to stand. Dragging her into the blood-filled tub and drowning her. Filling her lungs with it and choking her. The arms multiplied and were now squeezing her neck. She needed air.
Will opened her eyes and popped her head out of the bath. She breathed harshly and looked around. She looked down to check if the water was red and bloodlike—still trapped in her mind thinking the dream had been real. Everything was fine and there was no blood. The air smelled like lavender and almonds. Leaning over the bathtub to reach for her phone. Will saw the time and noticed she had only slept for five minutes.
Will continued to shake while the then-hot water became lukewarm and tepid. Will scoffed in the end for thinking she could relax after what had happened. She hadn’t even slept in the bed and she was already having nightmares.
Hanging the towel on one of the hangers Will left the warm bathroom. Hearing noises in the small kitchenette she followed it. She sees Hannibal chopping small vegetables.
“I’ve noticed you probably haven’t eaten besides when I served breakfast and neither have I, so I’ve taken the liberty to make us a small chicken salad so we wouldn’t go to bed hungry,” Hannibal said smiling and looking up to Will.
“You really got to stop feeding me, doctor.”
“And you have to stop skipping meals, professor.”
“Did you not say just a minute ago that you haven’t eaten either?” Will stared pointedly at Hannibal, tongue darting out to wet her lips for a second.
“I did. Now sit and let’s eat.”
As they sat and ate Will took out her phone and checked the many messages people had left her, most of them being from Jack. She sighed and set her phone face down, not wanting to bother with it at the moment.
“Do you think we made everything worse for Abigail Hobbs?” Hannibal questioned then taking a stab at her plate and lifting it to eat what she had on her fork.
“She’s going to be worse. There is no perfect victim unless they’re dead.” She stops to take another bite and chew before continuing. “Listen all I know is Jack and everyone is going to want to know what happened in more detail and she’s the only one living. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack has something planned already regarding not only her but also with me. Maybe he’ll call Dr. Bloom to consult this time. Just a matter of who and when, and if, if she wakes up.”
They sat at the table eating their food, in silence. This made Will’s stiff shoulders relax slowly. It made her forget about what had happened earlier today and what had just happened in the bath.
Then they got to talking again and though Will would never admit it out loud or to anyone, she thought of Hannibal slowly becoming interesting. Vastly way more than the morning they began eating in Will’s small motel.
Will ignored Hannibal’s request not to help her clean the kitchenette. But her southern hospitality, instilled in her, couldn’t help, so she stood side by side as they washed and dried their dishes. The sides of their arms brushed against each other.
Putting the last dish down after drying, Will passed by Hannibal to get her phone from the dining table. When Hannibal pulled her towards her. She used the back of her hand to touch Will’s forehead. She seemed to checking for a fever.
“You’re running hotter than usual. Are you well?” Hannibal hums closely. Her hand now brushed Will’s bangs out of her eyes. Her hand slowly lowered to caress her cheek.
Will leaned her into her hand, and Hannibal couldn’t help to pull her in closer.
“Doesn’t matter it’ll pass. I’m sure it’s just stress sickness.”
“I can help with that,” Hannibal said, lips quirking.
“First feeding me and now doctoring me. You fixin’ to become my nursemaid?”
Smelling of heat, sweetness, and arousal also didn’t help the case. They stared at each other, their breaths now intertwining. They waited with bated breath to see who would be the one to break this tension.
Suddenly they both grabbed and pulled each other together and opened one’s mouth to kiss. Her taste was mingling with hers and Hannibal couldn’t help but moan. Will made a noise in content when Hannibal squeezes her waist, wandering hands leading down to her ass.
Hannibal wanted to taste every part of her. To wind her up again and see her go. She pushed her down the bed and saw her bounce.
Quickly Will moved to remove her clothes—boxers and her oversized shirt—and threw them to the ground. Hannibal paused for a second contemplating if she should pick up the clothing she threw. She may have reconsidered setting them somewhere that wasn’t the ground if they were at the motel where Will was staying. But she wasn't, and she didn’t care entirely. The floors had looked clean enough. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off Will and her beautiful body.
Hannibal wondered how she could make Will sing beautiful moans. She began to take off her clothing. Folding her clothes and putting them on the loveseat in the room—she’d let Will have her clothes on the floor but she has decorum, she won’t leave her clothing on the floor—Will looked back at her, spreading her legs, her face flushing. She couldn’t help wanting her in every way she could.
“Don’t tease me like this darlin’ come here,” Will said to her with a finger beckoning her.
She watched her lean fully into the comforter. How could she resist her any longer, especially when her words elongated and dripped slowly like molasses.
Hannibal lowered herself to kiss and hold her face. Her plush pink bottom lips jutted out when she nibbled and pulled back. With just that simple kiss she could taste what they ate. How Will tasted amazing with another human flesh mingled with her taste.
She could imagine plying Will with sweeter foods. Foods that could make her taste sweeter.
Slowly she reached up to intertwine her hand with Will’s hair and gripped it a bit roughly. Pulling her head back so they can look at each other’s eyes. The gasp Will had let out was beautiful to Hannibal’s ears. Angels were sent from above and formed into Will when she let out a breathy groan.
“Fuck do that again.” Will moans out after Hannibal nipped at her lips again. Her lips went down towards her neck to nip and suck.
They scrambled more towards the middle. Wherever Will went, Hannibal made sure she was moving right with her. Her body hovered over her. Hands and legs bracketing Will in. She let Will guide their kiss then. Will’s hands mussed with her hair.
Hannibal straddled Will, sitting on her fully, when Will pulled back and placed her head against a pillow. Will's head was angled up and staring at her, and she couldn’t help but feel satisfied at how debauched Will looked to her. She wondered how Will saw her, but from the way she smiled back, she could assume it was the same as her thoughts.
She reached down to take hold and touch Will's face. To memorize every groove in case this would be the last time they fuck for a while. Her hands moved in tandem. They slowly moved down towards her neck where she pushed back the hair that gathered around there. Haloing around like a caricature of an angel. With one hand she put light pressure under Will’s trachea and squeezed.
Will let out a hitch in their breath and Hannibal could notice their pupils dilating a bit more. “Beautiful,” Hannibal murmured, leaning down to kiss Will's lips, and then letting go of her throat and leaning back.
She continued her exploration and mapping of her beautiful body. Hannibal fingers glided around the bullet scar she had on her right shoulder. Circling it before moving to circle her breasts.
They were wonderful and she was in awe looking at them. Hannibal bent down making sure to kiss her sternum before turning her head towards the right to suck on one of her nipples. She couldn’t help it, to not bite and to not suck felt against her nature. Her whole being. Like a babe to her mother begging to be fed and nourished. She just wanted to take a chunk out of her.
Hannibal couldn’t help but moan at the thought of Will being her mother for a second. Hot burning arousal coursing through her and down to her aching cunt. She could hear Will curse above. Will's hand then reached down to card her fingers through her hair pulling her closer.
Hannibal moved down now straddling one thigh and started to grind against her thigh. Every time she moved forward her knee would rub against Will’s cunt. She could feel how wet they both were getting. How the glide was going easier and easier for her. She brought up her other hand to pinch at Will's other nipple and they were content to stay like that for a while.
She could tell that Will was getting needier. Will was trying to rock into her and get any stimulation she could. Seeing her squirm and wanting more and yet saying nothing. Content to be tortured and touched but not brought to satisfaction. To be edged and toyed with. It was deliciously hot.
She craved for her to open and finger her. Hannibal knew that she could do so much more. The gods above could not stop her. It would take divine power to have her not fingers in Will and having her moan her name.
The hand that was pinching and grabbing Will's left breast trailed down to her cunt. It felt like she could feel her pulse rabbiting down there. It made her moan out. She grinded down onto Will making her feel over sensitive and that she could come. She stopped herself not wanting to orgasm yet.
She brought up her two fingers that just touched and swiped at Will’s cunt and she gave her fingers a long suck. Will watched her as she did so, groaning when Hannibal closed her eyes to savor her taste. Such a pretty and tasty cunt, trying to rut against her.
“Spread your legs,” Hannibal whispered out, her face going lower. She didn’t think Will would listen to her until she had them spread like when god parted the Red Sea.
Hannibal smiled at that. Loved that she obeyed her as soon as could ask. For a quick second, she wondered if she would listen to her if she commanded something more intense when they fuck the next time.
Going down, she spread her knees wider apart. She needed to leave bruises on Will Graham. To not only leave said bruises but to have her think about what they’ve done for days every time she looked into the mirror. Or every time she moved her legs. The denim pants she wears rub against the marks and make her feel sensitive. She needed to eat her fruit and she knew she would nourish from it.
“Good girl” she practically purred out.
Will whimpered out a please.
”Oh? Do you get off on being praised do you?”
She kissed her, the sickly sweaty scent that drowned her made Hannibal want to drown in it as well. Will was wet and slick.
From her hood, she then again moved a tiny bit lower. She flicked her tongue, barely touching her clit, she could see it twitch. She turned her head to chuckle and bite her thigh while at it.
She told Will that she wouldn’t tease her but she couldn’t help it. She’d suck her cunt feeling Will trying to clench her thighs. Trying to suffocate her in between folds. As if she wouldn’t do that on her own. But the moment Will made a noise, Hannibal turned to leave marks on her beautiful thick thigh.
Will’s breath hitched when she was breathing in. While exhaling Will would let out breathy groans and moans. Hannibal could tell that she was getting frustrated and done with her antics of teasing.
“Enough. If you don’t hurry and eat me or fuck me darlin’ til I orgasm, you’re gonna wish you had gotten to it earlier,” Will slurred.
She watched her eyelids flutter. She let her head fall back onto the pillow and puffed out the air before she looked back up to try to make eye contact with her.
Hannibal released her bite and looked up at Will to make eye contact. Couldn’t help realizing that they were making eye contact for the second time this entire day and the first time was over Abigail Hobbs’ body. Her body felt flushed at the thought.
Smiling at what Will had said to her she chuckled, “I will after a few more marks darling.”
Bite after bite, Hannibal didn’t want to stop marking her, but she did after a few as she promised. She pulled back to look at her thighs, there were red marks with her teeth indented in them. Imagining what it would feel like to take a chunk out of her.
Mouth full of sinew and meat. Lips and chin covered in blood and dripping down. How she wished she could drug her so she wouldn’t be able to feel a thing when she bit her. She could crawl back up and feed it to her like a mother bird to her youngling. She could show her darkness early. Will knew how to push Hannibal’s button and she’ll let her keep doing so if Will kept being so wonderful.
She moved one of her hands to use her fingers to open her cunt more. Leaning forwards she swiped her tongue, swirling at her clit and adding suction once again.
The taste of Will Graham on her tongue was pure heaven again. Her slick tasted like mana. She really couldn’t get enough eating her out and she could tell Will was enjoying herself.
Will’s fever could be felt stronger down there. Her cunt pulsed when she took another long suck. Will pushed her wet cunt into her face. Wanting more of what Hannibal was giving.
She dived back in and started sucking her, lightly biting her, penetrating her with her tongue and then her fingers, Will kept asking for more. She needed more and who was Hannibal to deny the beautiful creature above her.
She goes to kiss her. To mix the taste of her cunt and her mouth. She groaned at how she tasted then.
Pulling herself up, Hannibal aligns her cunt on top of Wills and begins grinding. She slides to the left straddling her leg and grinds again. This time let one hand stray down and play with her clit before using her fingers to plunge into her warm hole again.
Will bit Hannibal's bottom lip when Hannibal situated herself correctly. Everything felt so good to both of them. Will moved to impale herself and whined wishing Hannibal’s already large fingers to go deeper.
Hannibal's deep and rough plunges into Will slowly losing focus as she got lost in grinding on Will.
“I’ll use toys next time,” Hannibal mumbled in tandem with Will’s moans. Will stilled for a second, overstimulated and on the verge of orgasming, and then she came.
Will stiffed and silent and took a minute to compose herself while Hannibal still moving on her and their mouths still kissed. Hannibal would love to paint how Will’s lips parted when she came. How nothing could compare to her flushed cheeks.
Will chuckled and pulled Hannibal’s hair, causing their mouths to part further. Hannibal grinded even faster and harder. Will smirked at her.
“And I’ll let you rut against me like bitch in heat to bring you over,” Will’s southern accent came out towards the end, titillating Hannibal’s ears.
Slipping a finger then two into Hannibal, Will groaned at the sound. She pumped in and out while her thumb played with her clit. Hannibal just kept sighing and huffing out hot breaths.
Hannibal moans, “Will please… Please go faster. I'm almost there.”
Will took it as a challenge and flipped their positions. Hannibal knew she was strong but was surprised with how easy it was for her to maneuver her. She was now lying down and Will was between her spread-out thighs. Will kept finger fucking her and sucking her clit, swirling her tongue and all. Hannibal got the feeling that Will had the urge to leave marks on her just as she did to her. She turned her head and started biting Hannibal and chewing on her, and sucking bruises.
With Will’s other hand, she rubbed her clit, to replace what her mouth was doing and then alternated between that and going to her cunt and eating her out.
The fifth bite was what pushed Hannibal over the edge. Closing her eyes she let out a whine and moan feeling so good and overstimulated. She quickly grabbed onto Will’s hair, not caring any longer pulling her up to her face and kissing her. She felt Will still moving in her and she was groaning, feeling that oversensitivity tenfold.
“Please, please, please no more Will,” Hannibal said moving to grab Will’s hand and direct it onto anything but her cunt.
After lying there for a bit, Will and Hannibal both got up and walked to the bathroom, they grabbed washcloths, cleaned themselves, and waited for one and the other to fully get ready for bed. Will grabbed onto Hannibal’s hand and pulled them onto the bed. They turned the sheets not bothering to get under all of them with how hot and stuffy the room had gotten.
Will was sweating right through her clothes again and dampening Hannibal’s clothes. They didn’t pay it any mind. Hannibal just pulled her in closer and smelled her salty, sickly sweet scent making Hannibal want to care for and nurture her.
To help her rise to her potential. She closed her eyes and inhaled again. Hannibal decided she’d wait to see if she got sicker and if she would recommend Will to go seek help. All while pushing her to become more significant than she already is.
Hearing her phone ding with a text notification, Hannibal reached to check. It was a message from Jack Crawford:
We need to talk and meet in person when you get back. Will you be able to take Willow Graham on as an official patient?
Hannibal let out a small breath of air laughing mentally at what they had done. So Hannibal replies.
Yes, we’ll figure something out in person.
After sending the message, she turned her phone screen off and laid it back on the nightstand. She moved and adjusted her body molding it with the curve of Will’s slightly shorter stature. Cupping Will’s breast and squeezing, Will makes a breathy noise and snuggles closer to Hannibal. Hannibal closes her eyes drifting off in thoughts.
Hannibal wondered if they really would get together again soon or if she’d have to orchestrate things to pull them together. She had peeked behind the curtains and she knew she would become addicted and needed to see it in full. To see Willow Graham raw and bloody and over a body.