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Caged

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"Remember when I told you that I should have put you in a cage together, just to see what would happen ? Well, here we are. I have abandoned my resolve to eat you, Dr Lecter, much to Cordell's dismay. I think I'd rather see you eat each other."

*

"I would've strung you up like a pig, branded and cut. I would've thoroughly enjoyed your body, honey glazed, or roasted in my plate, on my palate, in my stomach, out my anus. I'll leave that honor to Mr Graham, or maybe you'd just rather finish the job you started in Florence. That pretty little head of his isn't split enough, but I'm sure you'll find a way to eat his brain."

*

"Mr Graham, who do you think will die hungry, and who will have the warm meal ? Maybe you'll both eat each other to death. Oh, I'm so looking forward to seeing that. What better way to end whatever there is between you ? Your very own Grand pathetic Finale!"

*

"In the end, you won't have a choice."

*

Will wakes up. He remembers the trip in the meat truck, bleeding upside down and silent all the way. He remembers being stuck in some sort of wheelchair. He remembers the sting of a needle, and Mason's voice promising… a cage. His head is pounding like hell, but he manages to crack his eyes open before panic floods him. He's bare and shivering, and most definitely locked up with a very naked Hannibal Lecter in a small cage. Their enclosure is approximately 2 meters long, 2 meters large, and Hannibal hasn't regained consciousness yet, lying on the other end of the cage with his back pressed against the bars.

Will sits up, taking in their surroundings, and realizes that the cage is inside a small room with no apparent doors, screaming white walls and surveillance cameras. Of course they'd be observed. No lock on the cage's door, and the bars don't budge when Will starts to rattle them, pushing against them or pulling them to the sides. They seem to be made of solid iron, and the spaces between them wouldn't even allow a dog to escape. They're trapped.

"Will?"

Will doesn't answer, and merely watches as Hannibal barely supresses a wince when he stands up. He's proud in his nudity, though his body is scarred and the chemicals haven't left his body yet, making him slightly sway. Will tries very hard not to stare at his body, muscles and all. Especially not his cock. But in the end, he can't avoid it, and mentally curses himself for even thinking about it. Hannibal is… big. He vaguely remembers being bathed by the man, back in Italy, and finds himself comforted by the idea that his own nakedness is already known. He slightly shakes his head as if to empty it, redirecting his thoughts to the current situation.

"We're trapped in here, there's no way out, and Mason's watching us."

"So he did keep his promise after all. No food, no water, just us."

"Reduced to animals, naked and primitive in our will to survive…"

"Do you? Wish to survive?"

Will huffs and doesn't quite know how to respond. It's then Hannibal's turn to test the cage, and Will almost expects it to collapse to his hands. After all, what hasn't? But no, the cage stays the same, immovable. No way out. Will is trapped with a predator, yet isn't afraid. He feels like he died in Baltimore, on the bloody floor of Hannibal's house, and again in Florence, when that bone saw started cutting in. At least he'd finally and truly die by Hannibal's hands, as he was always meant to be. His body would be consumed and honored, meant to delay the killer's eventual death… A sacred sacrifice, a world of flesh given to his teeth. He can already feel his bones breaking with a sickly crunch and his blood gushing out.

"Why don't you just get it over with? We're both gonna die anyway. And you'll finally get to eat me, isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Hannibal still stands, poised and elegant in the face of a disaster, his face is blank. He turns to Will, and stares into his eyes.

"Not like this, no."

"Right, I forgot, my raw brain wouldn't be to your liking. You'd rather roast it first."

"Will, my desire to eat you stems from my desire to forgive you. I will not eat you in this place, especially not if Mason wants me to."

Will knows. He understands Hannibal, and his reasons. They'd never be able to acknowledge this thing between them in any other way than the violent one. Hannibal cannot bear the fact that Will has made him human. He tried to honor his life the only way he knew how. He tried to save himself, even though killing Will probably wouldn't have. He takes a deep breath, and looks away, burning his eyes into the immaculate walls instead of losing himself into the depths of Hannibal's.

"So what's gonna happen now? We're just gonna die in there, eventually. If not by killing each other, of thirst and hunger."

"I do not wish to debase myself like this, but I believe we have no other choice. The FBI might be on its way, we must buy ourselves some time. It'll take days until our bodies are drained, and if we do not want to die too soon… we must let nothing go to waste."

"You mean… Oh god."

Will buries his head in his lap. The mere suggestion of drinking his own piss in front of Hannibal makes him want to die. He hasn't much hope. Hannibal doesn't seem fazed by the whole prospect, be it a disgusting death or a rescue by the FBI that would lead him to a lifetime emprisonment, or a death sentence. Hannibal Lecter's future is certainly doomed, yet his face is still impassive and his shoulders relaxed. Maybe he died too when he cut Will open in his kitchen, or in front of Jack in Italy. Maybe they both died when they understood they could never be at peace with each other, that their feelings would only be nurtured in death.

"Urine is 95% water, and it is very healthy to drink it as long as we're not too dehydrated. We shall drink it at the beginning of our wait, and stop once it begins to darken."

"Great. Just great. And how exactly are we supposed to drink our own piss? I can't just aim into my mouth, fucking hell…"

"Of course we won't be able to drink our own urine, Will."

It took him a few seconds to understand the full implications of that sentence.

"There is no way in hell, Hannibal, no way in hell I'm drinking your piss. No way."

"Will, I think we're past these considerations, aren't we? It will be a humiliating experience for us both, but a necessary one if we want to live."

"The FBI isn't coming, Hannibal! They're gonna let us die! And even if they did, who says they'd find us? I'm not gonna do this. I'm not. I don't have anything to live for anyway."

"Suicidal thoughts don't suit you, Will."

Hannibal looked a bit sad at this, but not resigned. He probably thought he could change Will's mind, and eventually feed him his piss. Funny enough, he was ready to kill and eat him only a few hours ago, and now was trying to do everything in his power for him to survive a few more days.

"Our deaths in there wouldn't be elegant, nor aesthetic. They'd be primal and filthy. You don't want that, you want us to be beautiful in our demise. I wonder how you would've displayed me, and if you still would if we got out of there in time."

"I don't think I know, myself. Maybe it was a good thing I was interrupted."

"And ended up in here? Really? I'm not sure that's preferable."

"I'm hopeful. And even if we die, we'll regret nothing in death."

"Right, because won't be here anymore."

"I hope Mason is enjoying the show while he still can."

Hannibal smiles darkly, sure of himself, and probably mentally putting the pig in a recipe. Will curses under his breath, and lowers his forehead against the bars… Waiting. For what? He doesn't quite know.

*

They don't talk for a while, both of them deep in their thoughts. Hannibal occasionally stares at Will, and the latter avoids looking back for fear of attacking the man, or having to analyse his scrambled feelings. Many things could happen while being locked in a cage with Hannibal. They could tear each other to pieces. They could also talk, for old time's sake, and dodge the problem of their very near deaths. They could also try to understand each other's motivations, shed a light on their feelings, maybe try and completely unearth the part of their relationship they never talked about, the one that feels the most vulnerable.

Having thought about it for a while, Will realizes that he's ready for that. They'd die soon, and he won't be able to simply stare at Hannibal while doing so. He needs his presence, something he's understood during those lonely months, and Hannibal is right there for the taking. Will smiles at that thought, and suddenly, having a conversation with him isn't too daring anymore. He opens his mouth and takes a sharp breath to say something, anything that could break that heavy silence between them, really, but Hannibal speaks first.

"I'm sorry to be rude, Will, but before you say anything, you should know that I need to urinate. I would really insist that you open your mouth to drink it, as this is one of the only chances you'll get to hydrate yourself."

Will closes his mouth, considering. Hannibal is right, and even though the idea revulses him, he knows that he'll do what's necessary to gain them some time. He doesn't think the FBI is coming, but hoping he might die a peaceful death, knowing how Hannibal really feels for him, and the nature of that thing between them.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"You've changed your mind."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Do you wish to kneel before me, or would you rather I come to you?"

Will huffs out a laugh, struck by the absurdity of the situation. But he sure as hell won't kneel for Hannibal, not for this. He draws his knees up in a futile attempt at concealing his manhood from Hannibal's probing eyes.

"Come here, and get it over with."

Hannibal gets up from his corner of the cage, and walks until he hovers over Will, lightly resting his cock on his hand. His lips are curled into a tiny but bitter smile. Will looks up, and frowns.

"Don't even pretend you're not enjoying this."

"I would, greatly, under different circumstances."

"Yes, like you said before…"

"And, Will, I never fantasized about making… you… swallow my urine. It's quite distasteful."

"But you enjoy the power play, or the illusion of one. You see me under you, in a submissive position, opening your mouth for your cock, and you like it."

"Don't worry, Will, I'm sure it'll soon be reciprocated, or do you intend to deprive me of your urine?"

"Oh, don't worry, Dr Lecter, I won't kill you like that. You'll drink mine too."

"So you are interested in a pissing contest."

Will laughs, thinking of that conversation they had while he was locked up in the BSHCI. Better times, really. Or not, depending on the point of view.

"Ok, just do it. I'm ready."

Will angles up his head and opens his mouth wide, and Hannibal positions his cock a few inches away from his face. Soon enough, the tip starts to release a steady stream of piss right into his mouth. Will has trouble swallowing the warm liquid that's constantly hitting the back of his throat, but he manages to spill almost none. When Hannibal's done, only the bitterness and salt linger on his tongue, and he winces at the taste. It's over now, so he wipes his mouth and dares to look up. Hannibal is looking pleased. Does the man have a piss kink, despite what he's said before?

"Well, looks like you enjoyed that. We'll see if you still do when it's my turn."

"Yes, we'll see."

*

Now sitting next to each other, they stay silent for a moment. Then, Will turns to look at Hannibal with pain in his eyes from where his thoughts have wandered.

"Why did you have to kill her, Hannibal? Why did you have to kill Abigail?"

A flicker of hurt passes on the killer's face, and he meets Will's eyes to answer.

"You betrayed me, Will. You destroyed the plan of a family that the three of us could have had."

"So you took her from me. You killed her because I couldn't have her without you, to punish me. I'm not even gonna ask if you regret it. I know you don't."

"I have very few regrets, but I did care about Abigail. I regret your choice."

"Don't you dare tell me it's my fault, Hannibal. You could have left with her, I called you!"

Will instantly regrets having raised his voice, and Hannibal's face turns to steel.

"I took it as a taunt at the time, a confirmation of your betrayal that you wished to deliver by yourself."

"I was torn. I wanted you to leave, in the end. I chose you."

"You chose me the way you choose most things. A half-measure, without truly implicating yourself. Always held back by your righteousness…"

Will shakes his head, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

"I wanted to leave with you, Hannibal. God I did. But I just… I just couldn't."

"And here we are."

"Here we are…"

They both fall silent for a moment, looking away from each other's face. Will wipes his eyes, and feels a new surge of determination within him.

"But I want to do something about it. About… us. Because either way, even if the FBI doesn't come, we'll be separated."

"Who says we'd be apart in death? We'll always find our way back to each other. I'm irrevocably pulled to you, as you are to me."

"Yeah, but we don't know what's out there, so I'd rather be at peace with the last moments of my life."

"With me?"

Instead of answering, Will shuffles closer, and for the first time, reaches for Hannibal's touch first. He takes his hand and laces their fingers, shivering when he hears Hannibal's sharp intake of breath, and lays his head on his shoulder. Closes his eyes. Feels the man's longer and unkept hair gently brush against his forehead. Takes in the heat of his body, and can't help the single tear escaping his eye.

*

Will hasn't realized he fell asleep, and Hannibal apparently did too, his chin resting on top of Will's curls. He hasn't felt this good and weirdly safe in a very long time. He smiles at that, and wonders if he should thank Mason for their reunion, and for the singular peace they've just recently found with each other. Only in the face of death could they accept what binds them together, and Will's true desires.

The last thing he wants to do is move and open his eyes to face the reality they're in. They're wrapped in a comfortable bubble, but Will knows he'll have to break it soon, as he really needs to take a piss. In Hannibal's mouth, he thinks with mixed feelings. He remembers the expression on his face the last time they did this, but tries not to think about it too hard for fear of awakening something unknown in him.

"Hannibal?"

Hannibal stirs, and cracks his eyes open. He looks down at him and smiles fondly, flexing his fingers against Will's as their hands are still mingled together. Will's heart leaps at the soft curve of his lips, at the way Hannibal's tongue unconsciously flicks out to wet them. Fuck it.

Impulsively, he leans up and catches Hannibal's lips with his own. Hannibal gasps, tightening his grip on Will's fingers, and moves his other hand to cup his cheek. Backs pressed against the bars of the cage, they taste each other slowly, and abandon themselves to the soft and adoring kiss. Their lips part, and Will gently licks at Hannibal's lower lip with his tongue. When the other man reaches Will's tongue with his own, Will pulls away, eyes shining, mouth red and breath heaving. Too much, too fast. If he doesn't stop now, he never will. Hannibal's mouth, tongue, lips, soft and smoldering eyes all at the same time are addictive, intoxicating.

"You know, if we'd acknowledged this thing earlier, I think it would've been far easier."

"Would it really have changed anything, Will?"

"I don't know."

"Would you have run away with me, had I more directly shown my interest? Had I confessed my love?"

Love. His love. Struck by his words, Will freezed. He thinks he would have. He'd just needed a push at the time, a tangible enough reason to follow Hannibal. This probably would've done it.

"I think so. But what's done is done… Anyway. I need to piss."

"Good. Get up, then."

Will stands, and observes as Hannibal kneels at his feet and opens his mouth. He suddenly understands why it had pleased Hannibal so much. Will the killer like his own submissive state as much as he had loved Will's? He positions his cock near his face, and as he starts to piss, Hannibal moves closer, closes his lips around his tip and starts drinking from the source in earnest. His mouth is heated, and the way his throat moves as he swallows and how his tongue undulates under Will's cock so as not to lose one drop makes Will heat up everywhere.

"Shit, Hannibal!"

As he relieves himself in that sinful mouth, a trickle of liquid escapes from Hannibal's closed lips. The cannibal's hands are in his lap, and when Will looks down, he realizes that he's hard. He almost loses it at the sight and can't look away, examining the way his big cock keeps swelling, proud and upright, how his tip strains against his foreskin. Hannibal sucks the rest of Will's piss from his tip, and the profiler has to tear himself away from his hot clutches.

"What the hell… You're getting off on this!"

"I am. Aren't you?"

Lust and smugness are as clear as day on Hannibal's face, but Will can't deny he's getting hard himself… His body is betraying him.

"Should we psychoanalyse this? Wonder why you like sucking my piss from me?"

"I want to consume you in every way possible, Will. You know that all too well."

"Yeah, but the whole sexual part was unclear to me before."

"I can eat more than you flesh. I'm sure you'd enjoy that as much as I would…"

"Fuck, Hannibal."

Will palms himself, now fully erect, and finds himself unable to refuse. His head is swimming with want, and Hannibal is still on his knees, licking his lips, hard as rock. Will comes closer, mere inches away, and rubs a thumb against Hannibal's lower lip, wet and hot. The only thought in his head is how it felt when his tip was licked and sucked clean, and he helplessly wonders how it would feel for his whole cock to fit inside his mouth, in that tight heat, and down his throat.

Hannibal reaches, places a hand on the back of Will's thighs, and the other grips the base of his cock. He mouths at the tip, licks the shaft with his clever tongue, and moans when he wraps his lips around the glans and bears down to take more. Will answers in kind, fisting Hannibal's silver strands of hair with both hands and whimpering at how good it feels. He shallowly bobs his head up and down, savoring the taste of Will's precum on his tongue, and suddenly takes it all in one go, nose pressing against his pubic hair and choking a bit.

Will lets out a cry at this, not quite believing how it's even better than he'd imagined it. His hips twitch up, and he knows it'll only take a few thrusts to finish. There is blistering heat around his cock, his tip is constricted by Hannibal's spasming muscles, and the man's tongue is still moving against his shaft. Hannibal stays still for a while, getting used to Will's dick down his throat, but Will is getting restless above him.

"Fuck, Hannibal, can I… just… move?"

Hannibal hums in answer, piercing him with a lustful gaze, so Will grips the back of his head and starts gently rolling his hips into the tight channel. He moans, and after barely three movements, comes to a shuddering halt and spills inside Hannibal with a sharp cry. He thrusts a bit more, letting out more ropes of cum in his throat and on his tongue, spreading them with the tip of his spent cock. He lets go of his head, but keeps a hand in his hair, petting, and fully pulls out.

He sighs when he sees Hannibal's blissful expression, who's swallowing once again. His own cock is straining against his belly and formed a pool of precum on the floor. Will goes to his knees in front of him and reaches down to stroke him to completion. The dick in his hand is hot and heavy, and when Will uses the foreskin to spread the wetness down, Hannibal comes all over his fingers, moaning. The sound of his pleasure, so foreign in such a dignified and controlled man's mouth, would be enough to make Will hard again if he could.

"I barely touched you", he murmurs.

"Will… You unravel me…"

Hannibal leans in to steal a kiss, and Will enthusiastically reciprocates, light-headed. Their coupling barely lasted a few minutes, but it's not surprising. Hannibal has been waiting for this for years, and even though Will had successfully repressed it until now, he knows he's been aching for it, too. After a few moments of tangled tongues and biting kisses, Hannibal pulls away to speak with a hoarse voice.

"You should eat my release, Will. To feed yourself."

"Yeah", he answers with a small laugh.

He licks Hannibal's cum off his fingers while the man looks at him with strong possessiveness in his eyes, and sees that the rest winded up on Hannibal's torso. The other encourages him with a deviant smile, and Will leans in to lick it off his skin, in his chest hair and all.

"Satisfied?"

*

Dehydration wasn't too far away a thought. Now what?