|Anonymous: Hannigram, conjugal visit.||
(I’m a little nervous bc i’m still new to writing Hannigram, so bear with me)
Will doesn’t really know what to think when he’s told that he’ll be allowed a 12 hour conjugal visit with Hannibal. They’re partners, they had been before this, but now it’s different. And somehow the outside world all thinks it’s normal—like they’re doing Will a favor even by allowing this—to assume he’d want to be in the prison version of a run down motel room with Hannibal.
He’s not going to have sex with him, he tells himself and grits his teeth. He is not going to let Hannibal control him again, just as he has started to feel like him again. There’s a storm raging in Will now, and it’s heading toward Hannibal; he wants to destroy everything that Lector has carefully built, down to the very foundation.
And he really wasn’t going to give in, but the visits through bars where he can’t feel him, can’t reach out and decide if he wants to become his own brand of killer by wrapping his hands around his throat or to grab him and kiss him, to wrap himself up in what he knows is an illusion just because Hannibal makes him feel safe and needed.
"I’m glad to have this time with you, Will," Hannibal states softly when they’re alone together, and he had thought about all the things he would say. He thought about using this time to lure out information to use against Hannibal, he had had resolve until Hannibal touches him. And he had forgotten how the doctor had groomed him into bending to his every touch, how every cell sings out that this is home.
And Will can’t help it, he bites his tongue and lets himself fall under him against the stiff mattress because deep down he knows how much he has missed this. And he damn well knows what Hannibal had done to him, but his empathetic gift doesn’t fail him when he also knows that there is something genuine to the touches, to the look of adoration in Hannibal’s eyes.
As Hannibal takes him, Will wrapped around him and arching toward him like he’s the damned sun, Will sinks back into that insanity where the world was alright and safe and Hannibal had been protection. Because those statements had been an illusion, but he realizes as Hannibal leans his forehead against his, gently rocking into him, that Hannibal does love him. And it’s so fucked up, so twisted, but this Hannibal’s genuine form of love.
And he wonders what’s more fucked up: that Hannibal’s love involves framing him for his own murders, or that Will knows he loves him too.