[Hannibal touches him, and his breath catches at the staggering intimacy of it, just that hand charting a course up his arm, the angle of his shoulders, to find the place where is collarbone and neck meet. the press of his thumb into his throat, the secure, curling grip of the fingers settling against the nape of his neck; Hannibal could kill him now so easily. and Will would let him.]
Hannibal, [he says his name again on a shaky inhalation of breath, into this close space between them. with their foreheads touching, he wouldn't be surprised if Hannibal could feel the flicker of his eyelashes against his skin when he closes his eyes. Will raises his hands, one coming to rest against the bend of Hannibal's elbow, while the other settles over the space where he'd seen Francis Dolarhyde's bullet put a bleeding wound in Hannibal's stomach.
a shuddering breath out--god, what is he doing--and the tip of his nose bumps against Hannibal's as he speaks.] You can't be here. [his hand follows the line of Hannibal's forearm up to his wrist near his own throat, curls his fingers around the elegant bones there. quieter, almost marvelling,] I can't believe you're here.
no subject
Hannibal, [he says his name again on a shaky inhalation of breath, into this close space between them. with their foreheads touching, he wouldn't be surprised if Hannibal could feel the flicker of his eyelashes against his skin when he closes his eyes. Will raises his hands, one coming to rest against the bend of Hannibal's elbow, while the other settles over the space where he'd seen Francis Dolarhyde's bullet put a bleeding wound in Hannibal's stomach.
a shuddering breath out--god, what is he doing--and the tip of his nose bumps against Hannibal's as he speaks.] You can't be here. [his hand follows the line of Hannibal's forearm up to his wrist near his own throat, curls his fingers around the elegant bones there. quieter, almost marvelling,] I can't believe you're here.