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Beau Ideal

Chapter 4

Notes:

Hey, guys! I'm running on about four hours of sleep, so I figured I might as well post this while I'm still semi-conscious.

WARNING! More torture in this chapter, thought Will's not the one getting hurt this time.

Enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A clinking sound roused Will from a restful sleep. He sat up, stretching his arms to the ceiling, and opened his eyes to find Hannibal sitting on a chair next to the bed, already dressed and with a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast in his lap.

“Breakfast in bed?” he asked, utterly immodest as he pushed the blanket away and reached for a fork.

Hannibal’s eyes trailed down his naked body as he eagerly wolfed down his breakfast. Will smirked, spreading his legs a bit wider as he leaned forward to grab a slice of toast. “Like what you see, Doctor?”

“Always,” Hannibal answered, setting the plate down after grabbing a slice of toast for himself. “I normally abhor eating in bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”

Will smiled, stretching again just for the pleasure of watching Hannibal’s attention wander over him. “Thanks. I needed that. Don’t think I’ve ever had a night like that before.”

“The night isn’t over yet,” Hannibal stated, smirking. “I have a surprise for you, and I promised you one more orgasm before morning.”

Will blinked, realizing that there was no sunlight streaming in through the blinds. “Jesus, Hannibal! Did you even sleep?”

“For a few hours, but it’s fine. I have no appointments today, and we can go back to bed anytime if necessary.” He eyed his lover once more before sighing. “Regretfully, I have to ask you to get dressed.”

Will smirked, but accepted the clean clothes that were handed to him, seeing no point in leaving the room as he put them on. He found he quite enjoyed the tortured expression on Hannibal’s face as his body was hidden from him.

He stretched again, noting that the clothes he had on were a bit worn. Strange considering Hannibal’s usual tastes, but they were soft and comfortable, so maybe it was more for Will’s benefit.

“Perfect,” Hannibal said, smoothing down his shirt. “Come with me.”

Will followed, relishing the deep-seated ache as he walked down the stairs. He should’ve known Hannibal never did anything half-assed, including making love. He’d be walking funny for days.

Hannibal led him into the kitchen, and then to the pantry where he proceeded to lift up the floorboards, revealing a set of stairs. The doctor smiled reassuringly, looking almost eager as he climbed down into a dim basement, Will trailing behind him cautiously.

A banging sound caught him off guard, and he looked up, shock making him freeze in place.

There was a person down there – a man. Will recognized him immediately, and took a step forward, not quite sure how he should feel.

Hannibal put his hands on his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “Surprise!

Marshall Weber groaned miserably, pulling at the chains around his wrists as he tried to escape from the gurney he was tied to. He was stripped down to his boxers and shivering from the cold. His eyes rolled around in his head until they settled on Will, and the profiler saw recognition flash in them, along with a surprisingly pleasing amount of fear.

Will looked to Hannibal, equal parts confused and wary, only for the doctor to hold out a scalpel with a sinister smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to kill him for weeks, but I decided to let you do the honours.”

Will gulped as he stared at it, overwhelmingly tempted. With Garret Jacob Hobbs, it had been too quick. He’d hardly had time to process what was going on before he started shooting, but he still remembered that sprig of zest that went through him when Hobbs finally died. The thought of feeling that again was almost irresistible.

He tried to clutch at the last vestiges of reason. “Won’t that be too suspicious? He was questioned for murder not long ago, and Jack knows about what he tried to do to me.”

Hannibal took his hand, pressing the scalpel into his palm, and smiled as Will’s fingers curled around the blade instinctively. “Don’t worry. As far as everyone is concerned, he got a job in South America and has no plans to return to America. No one will ever suspect a thing.”

Will’s breath hitched, and then he was panting again, anticipation building. Hannibal’s eyes seemed to shine in the dim light as he gazed upon him.

“How should I–” He licked him lips, hand shaking as he stared at the glimmering scalpel. “What if I can’t do it?”

Hannibal put his hand over Will’s so they were both grasping the weapon. “Then we’ll do it together.” He reached over, lifting the younger man’s chin up firmly to stare into his eyes. “He wanted to hurt you, Will, and I cannot allow that transgression to go unpunished.”

Will hesitated a moment, then nodded shakily. “Alright,” he said, putting his other hand over Hannibal’s. “Help me do it.”

They walked to the restrained photographer hand-in-hand, and Hannibal traced a line on Weber’s torso with his finger. “If we plunge the scalpel here, under the ribcage, it will pierce his heart and he’ll die very quickly.”

Weber moaned, wide-eyed, and looked up at Will with pleading eyes.

For a moment, he wavered, but then he remembered the model from all those years ago, crying and covered in bruises, and his expression hardened.

“Wait,” he ordered, just as Hannibal tightened his grip. “I want to do something first.”

Hannibal gave him a searching look, but let go and took a step back, watching him carefully.

Will sucked in a breath through his nose and reached for the photographer’s boxers.

Weber’s eyes widened again, and he shrieked behind his gag as Will sliced cleanly through the base of his penis.

Will held it up for him to see, dispassionate as Weber howled and clawed at his restraints, no doubt making all sorts of threats behind the gag.

“Huh, hardly seems worth it. I guess you really did have a lot to compensate for,” he taunted, dropping Weber’s amputated penis back onto the gurney and wiping his hand off on his pants.

Hannibal laughed softly, returning to his side with a wicked grin on his face as he wrapped his hand around Will’s once more. “Shall we?” he asked, positioning the scalpel.

Will turned his head and kissed him, reaching up to pull at the doctor’s hair. He hardly noticed as the scalpel thrust forward, Hannibal twisting it inside Weber’s chest, slicing cleanly through his lungs and heart.

Weber gurgled, and Will turned back to watch, pulling the scalpel out and leaning over the dying man as blood gushed out of the wound, splattering on his clothes. Curiosity made him cruel, and he plunged his hand into the incision, tearing it wide open, and squeezed the photographer’s heart until it finally stilled.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was Will’s heavy breathing, and then he lunged at Hannibal, pushing him against the stone wall and kissing him desperately. His hand left bloodstains on the doctor’s suit, but neither of them noticed, and both were too painfully aroused to care. Will ripped his shirt off, suddenly understanding the need for worn clothes, and Hannibal followed him swiftly until they were both naked and covered in blood.

“I want you inside me, Will,” the doctor commanded, reaching out to pull his lover close. “Right now.”

Will groaned, rubbing against him mindlessly. “Don’t I have to…prepare you first?”

“I prepared myself before I made breakfast,” he responded. “Get inside me. Now.”

Will didn’t need to be told twice, and as he sank into that tight, warm heat, he looked up at Hannibal with tears in his eyes.

I love you,” he breathed, catching the older man off-guard.

Hannibal looked at him like he would die if Will ever took those words back, and as they kissed again, Will raked his bloodstained hand through Hannibal’s hair. The doctor’s back was starting to get rather scraped up, but he hardly noticed.

Will,” he whispered, rapturous. “I love you. I need you. I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

Will groaned again, and reached down to wrap his hand around Hannibal’s leaking cock. “I want you to come. I want to feel you clench around me.”

Hannibal complied immediately, and it nearly brought Will to his knees. His own orgasm was almost too much to bear, and Hannibal was forced to grab him to keep them both from toppling over. They leaned against the wall, naked and panting, until their sweat-slicked bodies started to shiver from the cool air and they were forced to separate.

Will looked around and laughed breathlessly. “God, what a mess! You must be so disappointed.”

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s throat. “Not even a little. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to improve your technique in the future.”

Will moaned, throwing his head back against the wall as his knees buckled. “Jesus, Hannibal! You trying to go for five?”

The doctor smirked. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but we really should get dressed. You’re shivering, love.”

“I don’t suppose you brought some spare clothes? Mine are kind of covered in blood.”

Hannibal huffed out a laugh and pulled Will to a small room off to the side. He opened the door, revealing a clothing rack stocked with various outfits, and a mini-bathroom with a small, frosted-glass shower. “There are cleaning products under the sink. It will be less time-consuming to scrub the floor before we shower.”

“Not exactly the most glamourous part about being a serial killer.”

“We all have to make sacrifices. Now, grab a mop.”

 

After they finished cleaning up – and extracted Weber’s lungs for dinner – Hannibal wrapped his body in a plastic sheet, and Will helped him tuck it into an enormous freezer for safe-keeping.

They were soaked and smelt of bleach, so they hurried into the shower and turned the hot water on full-blast. Hannibal wrapped himself around Will’s shivering form, peppering his neck with kisses as the water heated up and steam fogged the glass. Once it reached a suitable temperature, he dabbed some soap on a pastel-green loofah mitt – much to Will’s amusement – and began scrubbing the blood off his lover.

Aside from rubbing in between his thighs much more than strictly necessary, Hannibal completed the task with expert skill before doing the same to himself as Will washed his hair.

“I could get used to this,” Will muttered as Hannibal rinsed the shampoo out of his own hair and shut the water off.

A drop of water slid off his nose as he bent over to pick up the towels. “Dry off quickly now, before you catch cold.”

Will followed his instruction, spending most of his time on his hair. He pulled the towel off his head in time to catch Hannibal’s amused glance, and held up a finger. “Don’t you dare say anything,” he warned.

Hannibal smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it, love. There’s a comb in the drawer.”

Will shoved him playfully and grabbed it, then spent the next minute fruitlessly trying to untangle his curls.

“Come now, there’s no need to pull your hair out like that,” the older man said, gently prying the comb from Will’s hand. He’d already slipped into a new three-piece, and had a navy button-up shirt and black dress pants in a pile for Will. “Get dressed. I’ll brush your hair.”

Will opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again, shaking his head as he pulled on his boxers and the new pants. He slid the shirt on, but didn’t bother with the buttons just yet.

Hannibal patted the countertop. “Sit here,” he ordered, and Will obliged, ducking his head a little as Hannibal grasped a lock of his hair and began untangling it bit by bit.

After a moment, his eyes slid shut, and he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of being cared for. It had been a long time since anyone had really bothered to look after him like that.

“I love your hair,” Hannibal said, interrupting his thoughts.

Will slowly opened his eyes and gave the doctor a lazy smile. “Most people do. Elijah loved styling…” he trailed off, frowning as a strange sensation not unlike grief welled up in him. “Is it wrong that I miss him, even after what he did to me?”

“He was your friend,” Hannibal stated, finishing with his hair, but still smoothing it out with his hands. “I do not regret killing him, but I do feel sorry that you lost someone you cared about.”

“He was going to kill me,” Will stated, more for himself than for the doctor. “He probably would’ve raped me too, if you hadn’t stopped him.” He shrugged, hopping off the counter and running a hand through his curls. “Still, you’re right. He was my friend.” He smiled painfully. “How sad it that? My only friends both turned out to be murderers.”

Hannibal smiled back. “Am I your friend now?”

Will scoffed. “Among other things.”

“Perhaps something about you is appealing to monsters.”

He rolled his eyes, heading back to the stairs. “Oh, I’m appealing to a lot more than monsters.”

Hannibal followed, trailing after him with a smile that wouldn’t cease. “Jack had a difficult time believing you were really a model at one point. I almost considered killing him for that.”

Will glared down at him. “Don’t kill Jack. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just an asshole sometimes.”

“It was a passing thought. I’ve actually been thinking about a way to help him solve the case of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

They made it into the kitchen before Will gave up, fixing Hannibal with a glare as the man smirked down at him. “You going to explain that? I can’t see you turning yourself in.”

“I have made a few contingency plans.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Well, do feel free to share them, Doctor.”

“Do you know who Miriam Lass is?”

The profiler froze, his mind flashing back to the piles of reports Jack had him reading through. “She was a student at Quantico. She tried to track you down.” He blinked. “She succeeded?” He asked.

“She was very intuitive,” Hannibal replied. “Still is, actually.”

It took a moment for the implications of those words to set in. “She’s alive?”

Hannibal was practically preening. “And perfectly healthy, though her mental status is slightly questionable at this point. Originally I only kept her to ascertain what the FBI knew about me, but I’ve grown somewhat fond of her.” He smirked. “I’ve done a few experiments: inducing blackouts, tampering with her memories, planting suggestions in her head. It shouldn’t take more than a month or so to convince her that she knows the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, and it certainly won’t be me she’ll be pointing fingers at.”

Will couldn’t quite repress a frown. A part of him felt a deep sense of pity for the poor woman. “So, what? You’re going to set her loose? What if she remembers the truth?”

“She won’t,” Hannibal said, perfectly confident. “I’ve already begun making arrangements. Even if Miriam grows to doubt her own mind, cold, hard evidence will be enough to persuade her. And it will be enough to persuade Jack as well.”

“And what exactly will this evidence tell them?”

“That Dr. Donald Sutcliffe is the one she went to interview the day she disappeared.”

“Who?” Will asked, brow wrinkling.

“An old classmate of mine,” Hannibal told him. He approached with a smile and put his hand on Will’s lower back. “Let’s have a drink in the study. I’m feeling rather parched.”

 

Three Months Later

Ripper Revealed!

Will rolled his eyes at the headline, but felt a knot of tension release as he read on.

“Would you like me to move?” Hannibal asked, turning in his seat to arch an eyebrow at the profiler slumped over the back of the couch reading over his shoulder. They were in the living room of their home in France. The country was more tolerant towards their relationship than his first choice of Italy, but he held out hope that one day they would visit there as well. He’d love to see Will and Inspector Pazzi interact.

Will rolled his eyes again. “Can’t believe Tattle Crime managed to get those pictures. You’re sure you cleaned up any evidence?”

“Nothing left behind will lead them to me,” Hannibal reassured him for the third time. “It’s over.”

Will stared at the picture of Miriam Lass, her eyes haunted and her hands covered in Donald Sutcliffe’s blood. “Think she’ll be alright?”

The doctor closed his laptop firmly. “With some therapy she should be able to get her life back. I expect Jack Crawford will do everything in his power to help her.”

Will nodded, and then he caught sight of an envelope on the coffee table. His face lit up. “Is that from Abigail?”

“I believe so.”

Will hopped over the couch, blatantly ignoring the half-hearted glare Hannibal sent his way, and scooped it up before collapsing into a chair. He reached for the letter-opener on the end table and slid it carefully through the envelope.

The letter inside was two pages long, and several pictures that were tucked away inside fell onto his lap. He picked one up, raising his eyebrow at the faces peering back at him, before he quickly read through the letter.

Winston came over, tail wagging as he sniffed at the familiar scent on the paper, and Will reached over to scratch him behind the ears.

He groaned. “Oh, God, she thinks she’s in love,” he informed Hannibal with a grimace, throwing one of the pictures to him. “Anton Holm. Apparently he’s adorable and Swedish, and he likes camping and hunting.” He shook his head. “How long has she been gone?”

“Twenty-two days,” Hannibal replied, scrutinizing the photograph, specifically the dimple-faced blond boy with his arm around Abigail’s shoulders. The girl was laughing, her eyes half-shut as she looked up at the boy next to her. “She seems happy.”

“She wants to bring him home for dinner next week,” Will continued, reading through the letter again.

Winston nuzzled at his knee before catching sight of a squirrel outside and racing out through the doggy door to chase it. The rest of the pack followed swiftly, and Hannibal sighed under his breath as their yelps and barks grew more distant.

Will dropped the letter and rubbed at his temples, his face pinched as a tension headache started to overwhelm him. “How did this happen? Why did we let her go? What kind of parents let their traumatized daughter go backpacking across Europe?”

“She needed some time. We needed some time as well.” Hannibal smiled at the grumpy man. “I think it’s a splendid idea.”

Will scoffed. “You would. Anything to let you show off.”

“I find intimidation works best when you are in the same room as your victim,” he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

The profiler paused, thinking. “Fine,” he consented. “But if he’s just stringing her along, we kill him.”

Hannibal smiled. “Of course. I’m already thinking up recipes.”

Will nodded slowly, peeking at him through his hair. “Are we…ever going to talk about that? The cannibalism thing?”

Hannibal crossed his legs, getting into his psychiatrist-pose. “Would you like to?”

“Well, I just…I don’t mean I want you to stop. If it’s something you need to do – like a compulsion or something – then it’s fine by me. I don’t mind it.”

“I’m perfectly aware that it’s unorthodox, even in the realm of serial killers, but it’s just something I enjoy. I could stop killing as well.”

Will snickered. “Well, now you sound like my dad. ‘I can quit drinking anytime I want.’” His smile dimmed. “He never did admit how wrong he was, even near the end.”

“I’ve gone years without killing, love, and it never caused any cravings. True, it annoyed me that there were so many irritating people that I couldn’t¬¬ deal with permanently, but I managed perfectly well. I could do it again if you’re truly worried.”

Will shook his head, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s just, if something happens…if you get caught, what do I do?”

“Wait until I break out of prison, or you could assist me in breaking out. Having an extra pair of hands would make the process go much smoother.”

Will looked at him in time to catch Hannibal’s eyes alight with humour, and couldn’t quite repress a smile. “I’m serious!” he complained. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

Hannibal got up off the couch and kneeled by Will’s side. He took his hand, cradling it as if it would break if he held on too tightly. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Will. The Chesapeake Ripper is dead. There is no evidence to tie me to him.” He leaned in to plant a kiss on Will’s lips. “I’m safe.”

Will’s eyes fluttered shut. He nodded slowly, letting himself believe – finally – that everything was going to be alright.

Hannibal’s plan had been simple yet elegant, as always. He’d spent over a month programming Miriam Lass with false memories of her captor’s voice, as well as a few new impulses. He’d left her in an isolated cabin, tied to a bed, though not as efficiently as per usual, so when Donald Sutcliffe arrived for his annual summer vacation to that very cabin, he was eviscerated with what would later be proven to be his own surgical scalpel.

After that, it was a simple matter of her using his cellphone to dial 911 to alert the authorities. Tattle Crime mentioned that she’d admitted herself into an institution that largely dealt with POWs, and considering the circumstances, it was unlikely she would be charged for what she did to Sutcliffe, especially not since the FBI found a human liver in the neurosurgeon’s freezer.

All in all, it seemed clear to everyone that the Ripper’s reign was over for good.

“I love you,” Hannibal whispered, breaking Will out of his thoughts.

Warmth fill him at the sound of those words, and opened his eyes again. It didn’t escape his notice that Hannibal was still kneeling, only he’d shifted onto one knee. Will’s gaze wandered from his face to his hand, which now held a navy blue, velvet box.

“Are you fucking with me?” he squeaked, already knowing where this was going. He jerked up in his seat, staring at the box as if it was a bomb.

Hannibal gave him a rakish grin. “Not at the moment, but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing so later tonight – perhaps every night for the rest of our lives if you’d agree.”

Will laughed breathlessly. “You asshole. Get up here.” Hannibal obeyed, leaning over Will as he pulled him in for a kiss.

Finally, Will took the box and opened it, staring at the ring inside. Hannibal plucked it out and slid it onto his finger. It fit perfectly of course, and Will had no doubt that those were real sapphires.

After a moment of staring at the new piece of jewellery, Will groaned. “Oh, God. This means we’re going to have a wedding party, doesn’t it?”

Hannibal was quick to reassure him. “I will handle everything. All you need to do is show up and look beautiful.”

Will’s smile came easily. “That I know how to do.”

Notes:

*heart eyes* Awww! They're engaged. I'm not one for writing domestic bliss, but that's basically how it goes. Hannibal's frame-up worked wonders, Miriam still has both arms and will get back on her feet soon enough, and Abigail's found herself a boyfriend. (Don't worry, he's a nice kid. No need for Hannibal's recipes.) Everybody's happy!

Now, I'm going to go read over my first draft of Mania and add up how many times Will cries.

Adieu, my faithful readers.

Notes:

Here's my Tumblr - https://gweezle.tumblr.com/ - if you want to see the pictures of Baby Hugh that I'm totally just using for research.

Adieu, my faithful readers.