Letting His Finger Be Sucked Into Hannibal’s Mouth, It Isn’t Hard To Imagine The Same Happening To

“Not exactly.  It’s just, eh, not very obvious how I’m supposed to even eat this.”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

Yes, Hannibal.  Look, you know I prefer to leave the past exactly where it is: the past.

[runsonfear]: Leave him out of this

you mean hannibal? 

Please reblog if you are a Hannibal RP Blog

Making a master list, if you want to be included reblog or send in an ask.

@drhanniballecter:  a fucking crescent moon emoji

Reblog this if you slept with my ex-wife Susan.

Trying to prove a point to my divorce lawyer.

“I’m not sure either but I assume it has something to do with American Beauty.”

// ignoring the choco-sex thread sitting like a neglected child in my drafts for daayyyyysss // [runsonfear]: "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?"

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean…” 

Wax poetical about art, and Will would usually sink beneath the surface of an inward stream to drown you out.  But it was a curious sensation to have someone come so close to the mark; like his intentions were being torn out from within him and placed under a microscope.  He felt simultaneously exposed and invigorated.

“Schrodinger's Painting.  Well, hell...”  Will rubbed his lower lip with his middle finger to suppress a smile - unsuccessfully.

He took Dr. Lecter’s hand and shook it, let himself glimpse the man’s eyes; he was intrigued by the color, and memorized the points of light in them for later reference.  The rest was admiration, and then...not much before the veneer of polite social grace.  Very different...

“You certainly see a lot, doctor.”  He said,  “I’m Graham, Will.  I don’t know if you saw my name on the brochure...”  He turned back to his painting, then back to Dr. Lecter.  “This one’s actually mine.  I wanted to know what you saw; you seemed enamored.”

“Can’t say I’m disappointed.”  He let himself smile this time.

Never Paint Dreams or Nightmares │runsonfear

Hannibal looked over at the man who he instantly recognized to be Will Graham, he didn’t comment on the recognition.  

Looking back over at the painting and clearing his throat, he spoke.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?” He said with a small smile.

“Or it could mean everything. That’s what is so special about art. The artist’s intentions don’t matter when it hits the public’s eye. I could look at this and see nothing, while another man might look at be reminded of the tragic death of his children… and another might see, in it’s strokes, a vision of his own death, or future becoming. 

Every painting, despite the intentions, both simultaneously means everything and nothing at all. I would compare it to Schrodinger’s Cat… Or for this, Schrodinger’s Painting. 

But as far as intentions, I think it might be just that. The meaning is that there is no meaning, other than what we decide to project on to it, which is neither accurate nor inaccurate.”

His smile grew a bit wider and warmer as he held out his hand to the other man. 

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” He introduced.

Will allowed Hannibal to do this; let his hand be guided down and to the undoing of that top button.  He pressed his nail into the skin, feeling the dusting of chest hair there catch as he scratched his way down.  He let himself be guided back to the bowl, hands braced against Hannibal’s shoulders for balance.

“Then I’ll give you me.”  Will said, and felt the warmth of chocolate and Hannibal’s lips against his own.  He licked around and in Hannibal’s mouth, scraping his teeth against lips and tongue.  He brought a hand up to cup Hannibal’s neck and adjust the angle; he wanted to taste as much of this man as possible.  With his free hand, he undid the rest of the shirt buttons and ran his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair, sometimes scratching down to feel that rhythmic catching of hair against nails.

Pulling away, breathing a bit labored, Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  His fingers lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal some of his skin.  He paused and his mouth twitched into a smirk:

“What’s the magic word?”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

Well excuse me, I didn't think you'd appreciate hauling bags of bait and a pole into the middle of a freezing river for hours on end.  My apologies, angel-fish.

yeah, SURE you knew.  SURE you did. 

but now that you mention it, going without me was a dick move.  is it because you don’t think i’d look sexy in waders?  i’ll have you know that my ass looks fantastic when covered in loose-fitting rubber.