Art credit to CamilleFlyingRotten, @CamilleCailloux on Twitter, for #ForBothofUs fest, Hannibal Cre-Ate-ive found here.
12:35 a.m. — Wolftrap, Virginia
Hannibal Lecter was a man of many secrets. He had to be, all things considered. He was a serial killer masquerading as a psychiatrist—secrets were a bygone conclusion.
But he was far too curious to allow such secrets to exist in others, hence why he was in the tree line outside Will Graham’s house on a freezing cold evening, breath puffing around his face and fingers growing stiff, all because Will had canceled his appointment under very suspicious circumstances.
Namely, he’d called and said, “I just remembered I can’t make it.”
Lights went off inside, leaving Will’s little house dark and adrift on a plain of moonlit snow. It was a full one, Hannibal knew. He always kept track, considering the effect it had on the behavior of those around him. He usually wound up with an addition or two to his freezer every month thanks to the moon’s influence.
The door creaked. He faintly heard Will admonish one of his dogs as it tried to come out with him. The door shut with a click and Will bounded into his yard in the moonlight.
Several things hit Hannibal hard all at once which, thankfully, his voracious mind was more than capable of processing simultaneously.
Will was in incredible shape.
Will was entirely naked.
Will was coming directly towards him.
Hannibal drew back into the deeper darkness, already furiously trying to imagine what on earth Will was up to and even more curious than he’d been before.
Will left a smattering of footprints in the snow behind him and stretched his stride, every muscle bunching and sliding beneath his smooth, pale skin, as if the cold and the night invigorated him. His face wore a wild, happy grin, baring long, lupine teeth Hannibal could see even from such a distance and knew damned well hadn’t been there before.
There wasn’t time to be surprised by what happened, it just… did. Continue reading