“Any Particular Theme To These Thoughts On Me, In General?  That’s Quite A Look On Your Face.”

Well, Will thought, it's a helluva 'how do you do,' and a lot more concise.

Swept up in the passion of the moment, Will followed for a few heartbeats. He let his mouth and body be moulded to Hannibal's will, his tongue and hands. With a moan, he began to push back; his grip a little more forceful and his teeth a little more biting. He clutched Hannibal's scalp in his fingers and kissed like he'd damn well die if they stopped.

// lil smth smth for the lulz // [runsonfear]: "I want the K"

Send me I want the K and I’ll generate a number; 21: Then there’s tongue

Hannibal grabbed Will rather forcefully, with one arm wrapped around his back, and pulled him into a kiss. Hannibal parted his lips slightly and let his tongue gently outline Will’s lip. Not even waiting to see if Will would reciprocate in the lip parting, he pushed his tongue past Will’s lips and into his mouth, finding the younger man’s tongue and running his across it. 

A grin pulls itself across Will’s face.  He refocuses his attention on his silverware, shifting them in his hands and biting his lip to hide a laugh.

“Depends on the amount of alcohol in my system.”  It’s a weak feint, he knows.  “What arouses your interests, Doctor?”

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

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

[molls-to-the-wall]: hey hon, can you unload the dishwasher tonight? i've got a dog sleeping on my legs so i can't exactly move right now... thanks <3

OR you could just shove him off because I have work to do, Molly.  Important work.  Work that requires care and concentration, Molly.

Will watches the flex and roll of Hannibal’s muscles for a few moments; the suggestion beneath his shirt, the tightening sinews of his arms.  He removes his own jacket, folding it over one of the kitchen stools.  Instead of rolling up his sleeves, he undoes the buttons of his shirt and discards it the same way; he stretches his arms, now feeling a little freer in just his undershirt.

“You think this’ll be enough, then?”  He stirs the chocolate with a wooden spoon, turning it over to keep the temperature even.  It occurs to him that, at a previous time and place in their lives, Will might have had an issue with Hannibal having an entire bowl of chocolate ready for this.  It also occurs to him that he is no longer the Will that would have that issue.

He dips his finger into the chocolate, about up to the second joint, covering it in thick syrup.  He walks over and brings the chocolate up to Hannibal’s lips.  “Tell me how it is.”

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

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

A low, breathy little laugh escapes just as Hannibal collects his plate, “Don’t need to.”

This close, Will can see even clearer the minute changes in Hannibal’s face as he speaks.  Will could watch that for hours, he thinks.  He leans in just a little, so his nose is nearly bumping Hannibal’s.

He says: “I’ll help you with the chocolate,” then abruptly turns and leaves for the kitchen.

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

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

He watched the tie flutter and swirl down to the floor and he smiled.  Tit for tat, the old black magic.  It’s a game he knew well.  He spread his arms, palms out and inviting.

“Take it off for me.”  Be polite, though, “Please.”

Shit? Hannibal almost commented, but decided better of it. In very fluid movements he took off his tie and discarded it to the floor.

“Quid pro quo.” He said nearly in a whisper as he eyed Will’s shirt.

@drhanniballecter:  a fucking crescent moon emoji

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.