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Hannibal quietly waited for Will to make his way back to consciousness. After three years on the run he knew exactly how much sedative he needed to give Will and he always recovered quickly without excessive confusion.
Three years of running and hiding and dragging Will, kicking and screaming, along with him. The kicking and screaming was mostly metaphorical as Hannibal made sure he was locked away in a padded box when they travelled, sleeping deeply. He would rather enjoy first class with Will by his side and hopefully in the future he would get to but, right now, whenever Will was awake he fought with tenacity and Hannibal loved him for it.
He had come close to breaking Will more than once but never managed it, thrilled every time when Will proved himself so much stronger than he knew. His core formed of unbreakable steel. Hannibal never broke him but he fractured him, internal wounds that never quite healed, too many and he would fall apart. So Hannibal changed his plans, rather than wait for Will to be ready he stole him away.
He was certain that eventually Will would come around, but it was taking longer than he anticipated. There were days when that certainty wavered but the idea of letting him go never occurred to him. He would rather have him angry and defiant than a broken husk or not at all.
Will’s eyes began to flutter open and Hannibal imminently gave him water through a straw, pleased that Will swallowed the cool fluid rather than spit it back at him. His eyes focused on Hannibal and he titled his head back with a pained sound, his bound hands twitched at his sides, checking he was still wearing boxers. “I promised that I would not touch you that way, Will,” Hannibal reminded him.
“I don’t trust you,” Will spat.
“You will,” Hannibal assured him, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s resistant lips.
“Where are we?” He demanded.
“Home,” Hannibal answered, receiving a glare from Will. He couldn’t risk giving Will information that could lead Jack straight to them, if Jack wanted Will back he would have to fight for him. It was a game, and Hannibal was winning. He dragged his thumb along Will’s forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I wish you would smile for me, beloved. It is our anniversary after all. Three years since I stole you away.”
“From my dogs, from my home.”
“From Jack and his abuse, from killers digging into your brain. You can fight me for the rest of our lives but I know that I did the right thing, for the both of us,” Hannibal told him. He stroked Will’s cheek. “Happy anniversary, Will.”
He tilted the soft upright surface that Will was strapped to back just a little, a wide bright light displaying him at his most alluring angle. “Another video for Jack?” Will asked.
“Traditions are important,” Hannibal answered. Every six months Jack received a short video, confirming that Will was alive and healthy under Hannibal’s devoted care. His punishment for not taking care of Will as he should have. Hannibal had everything ready, Will’s arms and legs were bound, only his small boxers covering his modesty. Hannibal had learned every inch of Will’s body by sight and touch but he never touched him there, waiting for Will’s consent, given freely and not acquired through manipulation. He had promised Will that and he kept his promises.
Two lit candles set on a small table next to him along with an intricate eye mask of red and black, Jack knew who he was, of course, but the mask added a sense of pageantry that Hannibal appreciated as did the soft classic music playing in the background. A bucket of ice and a cloth were wet just underneath the table, out of sight, but ready. Hannibal moved to the camera set up on a tripod. “Any requests before we begin?” He asked, donning his mask and smoothing down his hair.
Will bit his bottom lip and looked away. Hannibal waited, he could recognise when Will had something to say but didn’t know how to do so without feeling he had lost another small battle. If only he knew this war was unwinnable. His eyes landed on the candles, eyes reflecting the flames and making him look ethereal, like a fallen captured angel. Hannibal’s prize, his treasure. “Can I have a safeword?” Will asked, his voice small and tentative.
“Yes,” Hannibal answered instantly, grateful for any chance to prove to Will that he could trust him, if he only let himself. “Choose any word you want, my love, I will listen, I promise.”
“I’ll never believe a word you say,” Will told him in a flat voice. “Never forget that I am your prisoner, not your love. My safeword is trout.”
“Trout,” Hannibal repeated. “And you will always be my love. Whether you are ready to reciprocate or not,” his words gained him another glare, an improvement on the stream of curses and threats they would have caused three years ago. Did Will realise the progress they were making? Hannibal thought it was wisest not to ask.
He pulled on his gloves and moved to the camera. “Lights, camera,” Will muttered in annoyance.
Hannibal smiled and huffed out a laugh. “Action,” he answered with a quick wink.
Hannibal approached Will slowly, eyes travelling over his restrained body. “Such a beauty,” he whispered.
“Will you let me go when I lose my looks?” Will sassed. Hannibal liked it so much better when he responded, his silence a much more painful punishment.
“Never,” Hannibal promised him, pressing a kiss to his soft curls. “This is forever.”
He picked up the red candle first, the wax the colour of blood and flowing down the side. Will’s chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, eyes on Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal tilted the candle to one side, high above Will’s body, a heavy drop travelling down the shaft and hesitating at the end before falling, landing on the skin above his heart. Will hissed and his body jerked when the wax landed.
The colour gleamed against his skin, sluggishly sliding over his muscles. Hannibal lowered the candle and let a few more thick drops fall into his skin, each hotter than the last. Will squirmed in his bonds but did not use his safe word, letting out soft sounds of pain with his bright eyes half closed.
Hannibal adjusted his grip, wax flowing in a continuous stream allowing Hannibal to create abstract patterns on Will’s skin. Will’s parted lips twitched and he let out a soft moan, a tell tale bulge forming in his boxers. Hannibal drizzled stripes of red on his skin as Will gave himself over to the intense sensations, escaping the horror of being a psychopath's captive and the frightening realisation that he was not fighting the way he used to. Some days he wanted nothing more than to give in and accept Hannibal’s warm embraces and powerful, dangerous, love.
Hannibal carefully returned the red candle to the table, pushing Will’s curls back from his sweaty forehead. Will was flushed and breathing heavily, breathtakingly gorgeous under the bright light. “I love you, Will,” Hannibal whispered into his ear, voice low and rough. Will’s breathing caught but he did not immediately deny the truth. He also did not respond when Hannibal kissed his dry lips but his lower lip quivered as though he wanted to, his tongue almost close enough to touch Hannibal’s.
He picked up the white candle and held it close to Will’s body, the snowy white was hot enough to make his cry out as he poured it over Will’s chest, criss crossing it over the drying red wax, the colours merging together. Will struggled in his bonds, soft moans falling from Will’s lips, eyes closed.
Curious, Hannibal loosened his bonds slightly and Will arched his chest up towards the sensation. When a streak of wax ran down the centre of his chest and into his belly button Will let out a high pitched yell and went limp, moaning softly. “Beautiful my sweet,” Hannibal praised him, blowing out both candles.
He kissed Will more firmly, slipping his tongue into his mouth, delighted when Will parted his lips, his tongue brushing Hannibal’s tentatively. It was brief, and a second later Will tried to turn his head with a high-pitched broken sound. “It’s okay love, you can have peace, happiness, love. I love you, with all my heart.”
I don’t want it,” Will argued weakly, not even convincing himself.
“Shush, I have you,” Hannibal purred darkly, sliding off his gloves and moving his hands over the art on Will’s chest, coming to brush the waistband of his snug underwear. Will shivered and tipped his pelvis upwards in want, biting his lower lip. Hannibal brushed his thumb along his lower lip, encouraging him to release the rosy flesh. “Say yes, beloved,” he whispered, voice sounding wrecked. “Please, just say yes,” he was almost pleading and he didn’t care, desperately wanting to touch Will’s hard hot length.
Will’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times and a tear slipped from under his closed eyelid.”Trout,” he said, voice no more than a whisper.
Hannibal removed his hands instantly, pressing a reassuring kiss to Will’s forehead, petting his hair until he stopped shaking. Hannibal pulled a stool closer and carefully began to remove the dried wax from Will’s torso. Will’s eyes fluttered open and he rolled his head to the side, watching Hannibal as he took care of him. Hannibal held his gaze and stroked his cheeks tenderly, smiling gently when Will leaned into the touch for the first time, opening up just a little, more than he ever had before.
Under the wax, Will’s chest was patterned with red and he winced when Hannibal touched the heated flesh as it was revealed. Hannibal held Will’s eyes as he soothed the pain with the wet cloth, freezing from its submergence in melting ice, removing any stray flecks of wax and soothing the pain.
He hummed along with the classical music softly as he dried off Will’s torso and applied a soothing cream to his chest. He smiled at Will again but got nothing in response.
Hannibal carefully manoeuvred Will upright, undoing his bindings, Will wavered as he tried to support his own weight. Hannibal caught him quickly and held him close. Will jerked away, shoving his backwards with a snarl. “I hate you,” he said, voice low and vicious.
Hannibal stared at him for several silent seconds, eyes burning scarlet and Will sucked in a breath, fighting not to shrink away. Had he finally crossed the line that would cause Hannibal to truly hurt him, even kill him? He fought the urge to run and regretted it when Hannibal snatched him round the waist, crushing him to his chest, pinning his arms in place and ignoring his weak pushing. His free hand moved to seal around Will’s neck, not cutting off his breath but restricting it just enough to make his heart beat faster.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice soft but edged with danger. Will met his eyes with a defiant glare, refusing to show fear. “You let me in,” Hannibal said, tightening his grip when Will tried to shake his head. “You did, I saw it,” Hannibal insisted. “Tell me, tell me why?”
Will snarled and tried to wrench his body away but Hannibal held him through his struggles, backing him into the wall and pinning him there. “Tell me,” he begged, desperation rising within him. “TELL ME!” He thundered, Will eyes widening at shock in the crack in his composure. “Please, Will. I miss you,” he whispered softly.
His grip on Will’s neck tightened unconsciously, until he let out a choked sound, trying to free an arm to pull at his wrist. Hannibal loosened his tight hold slightly, still not giving Will a change to break away. “Sensation,” Will said quietly. Hannibal released his neck, letting him take a few heavy lungfuls before guiding Will’s to face him fully. “The burn and the icy cloth, it was all so intense I needed something solid, a constant. I needed…”
“Someone to cling to,” Hannibal finished for him. “Metaphorically.”
“Yes,” Will admitted. He tensed his muscles as Hannibal’s tight hold turned to a loving embrace.
“I have never lied to you, Will, and I don’t intend to do so now,” Hannibal assured him. “I know you may not believe me but I promise you that I will almost be here for you to hold on to when you need a constant, a north star or an anchor.” he said softly.
“I believe that,” Will said. Hannibal would have believed he wanted to hear these words more than anything, but not like this, like that fact devastated Will. “Please, let me go, I need to be alone, I need to sleep, let me go, please,” he said softly, face resolutely turned to the ground.
“I have a room ready for you,” Hannibal said, every time he moved them he was a room ready for Will with blacked out windows and a door that locked from the outside. Will nodded, body sagging with exhaustion and he let Hannibal take him to the room.
Will touched the blacked out window, longing to see the outside. “We are in Scotland,” Hannibal told him. Will tilted his head in acknowledgement but did not answer verbally. “I will see you at breakfast.”
He kept what part of Scotland to himself. They were not there to visit Loch Ness or Loch Fyne with its less mythical marine life. Hannibal had brought Will to Gretna Green, a sight infused with decades of love overcoming all obstacles.
Hannibal’s heart was full as he returned to his own bed. As long as he kept Will close they would overcome every obstacle that their past, or future, could throw at them.