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As I Love You


"Hannibal performs an unintentional soliloquy in his office balcony, confessing his love and what he desires to do to Will while Will is standing there, gaping, and a little aroused as his audience."

Romance / Poetry
Age Rating:


Will Graham was torn.

He knew that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, and he knew it has his duty to tell Jack even if he knew that Jack wouldn’t automatically believe his allegation. To report it was what was right, but not necessarily what was easy. His own murky, confusing feelings pleaded for him to desist while his rational side and conscience told him to make the accusation. Emotions and confused thought swirled around his mind, filling—no, haunting his dreams. Will was unsure with his own feelings for Hannibal, and wasn’t that tragically ironic for an actual empath? He would constantly debate and contemplate it in his mind, but subconsciously, there was already and answer, and that answer would always result in his pensive moments. He would not do it.

Will always felt like his existence was a dream, a dubious thing that could and would fade away at an instant. When he was with Hannibal, he felt oddly grounded as if the doctor was his anchor to his place in this world.

Admittedly, Will was a pushover. He attempted to put into consideration and do what was better for the well-being of others rather than himself. Sometimes, he would jokingly think that it was in the “job description” of being an empath, but that was a false notion. Everyone is inherently selfish, wishing for love and acceptance and a place to belong, after all. A fairy tale start and ending to their lives even if all the rules of the world prohibit that. For the first time in forever, Will actually wanted to do what he wanted rather than the greater good, and he was full set to do just that.

He did not want to expose Hannibal. Hannibal had seemingly delightfully set out the clues and pieces of the pieces of the elaborate puzzle for him to piece together and discover. He wanted to play the brilliant psychiatrist’s game… A dance with the devil.

Oh, how intoxicating and dangerous Hannibal was. The man was similar to an addicting drug. He knew that going and interacting with Hannibal was perilous. A path that would lead further to his inevitable self-destruction and despite that, he kept coming back for more of him. The other man most likely had already set in motion a convoluted plan that involved his person, but he simply couldn’t stay away. He adored the sweet actually venomous words, lies and half-truths that came out of the doctor’s mouth, putting him helplessly, ever-deeper under his thrall. Hannibal was the only person he had the pleasure of encountering who had the capability to truly understand him.

Shrugging on his jacket, he set out to Hannibal’s office.

Will’s departure was a turning point which would either result to a darkly beautiful union or a horrific tragedy and the intelligent empath was fully aware of it.

Will inserted the key and twisted the knob to Hannibal’s office, irrevocably sealing his fate. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was about to happen before silently opening the door and stepping inside the psychiatrist’s office.

At his first survey of the room, he didn’t instantly spot Hannibal, and that fact made him anxious.

“Where is he?” he thought.

That was when he heard the other’s voice, and he looked up, his mouth slightly open. It was unknown whether he was more startled at suddenly hearing Hannibal’s voice or the actual words he had listened to.

“Oh, my darling William,” sighed Hannibal longingly as he caressed the spines of books surrounding him up on the added balcony floor of his polished office, his posture, visage, and speech wholly expressing the depth of his current sentiments.

“How I yearn for you, my darkling. Your exhausted but oh so lovely mien denotes of the struggle to not simply embrace the shadows, fall in the lulling call of the abyss in your person even as it brings you more sorrow than solace. I’m devising a plot to make this occur. We shall reflect each other’s darkness, and sink into our very own oblivion as one. You are the only one who can truly understand me, and I, you.

Do you not see how we were seemingly created for each other? Two beings forced into hiding under the façade of excellence and slight eccentricity but general normalcy? I, myself am not a true believer of events set in stone or the ridiculous notions of fate and destiny. However, our meetings and encounters may have indeed been preordained. Or perhaps, men of calibre are simply attracted to each other like two magnetic forces alike yet differing and contrasting greatly as they draw the other to them. I may never have the actual answer to this query, but what I do know is that the two of us together will be inimitable and purely right, meant to be.”

Hannibal paused there possibly for breath, or to relish the vivid images and scenarios that his mind palace conjured and offered for his delight. His gaze was far away when he finally opened his eyes.

“Exquisite,” he whispered breathily.

Those softly spoken slew of words were solely supposed to be for Hannibal’s self-expression. They were not supposed to be overheard by anyone especially not the object of affection that he was supposed to be speaking to in the manner of an apostrophe.

The esteemed cannibal (for all his knowledge) did not know that the very same William Graham had listened to all he had uttered about him; he was frozen, simply standing there. His mouth was agape, traces of red in his cheeks. He was the epitome of someone shocked and flustered all at once.

“Oh, the purplest of prose and the prettiest of poetry cannot fully elaborate on the dazzling splendour of your outward appearance. Skin as white as porcelain that I want to caress, touch… I want to feel the heat of your skin slightly searing my fingertips. I wonder if that adorable red flush spreads further across your body. Occasionally, I even get this primal urge to mark the white canvas that is the expanse of your skin to show everyone that you are mine. Your luxuriant dark curls sweetly bouncing and following your every movement, spilling around your head like a fallen seraph’s halo and framing your delicate features seemingly made rough by coarse wisps of hair. I hanker to feel the sensation of my lips descending upon your own rosy pinks ones teasingly at first then finally, entering that moist cavern and mapping out, savouring every inch as I stare at you hungrily and, you close your eyes, succumbing to the utter abandonment of pleasure and beginnings of arousal flood in your system.

Will Graham, you are real ambrosia. A true treat that must be slowly relished. How can a being just be oh so perfect and a rightful match to me? No matter. I ardently adore you. I thirst and hunger for you more than anything covetable in this vast world which we inhabit.”

Hannibal’s smooth, cultured voice paused for breath.

Will had a pseudo-panic attack when Hannibal turned to face him. A sigh of relief almost escaped his lips audibly, but he fortunately stifled it while thanking whatever reason that Hannibal closes his eyes when he monologues. (He silently thought that it was quite an adorable idiosyncrasy for Hannibal to have. A mannerism that made the impeccable doctor somehow more human with his cultured speech still shined through even with all the romantic sap he was spouting which admittedly, he was enjoying.)

After all, he wanted to hear more of what Hannibal had to say. Hannibal’s speech fully comprised of the other’s romantic and sexual feelings for him. His reciprocated romantic and sexual feelings for him… Will felt heat rise on his face, denoting a red flush that had spread at the idea. He covered his face with his hands. Yes, he was interested, very interested to engage in a romantic relationship with the known cannibal. A love, twisted yet true. He started when Hannibal’s honeyed voice continued once more, hungrily listening to the speech.

“If only I had known your radiant loveliness, your utter brilliance sooner than perhaps, I wouldn’t be the monstrous creature I am today. Even men of intelligence such as myself who more often than not, consider themselves to succumb to the so-called petty fallacy of sentiment still want that unequivocal sensation of being loved, of belonging. I want us to be together, whether cruelly ostracised or ruling the world. Though, I can ensure that the latter would happen with our union. I want you to be beside me… overseeing my wicked endeavours, empathising with my views, playing beautiful mind games, and standing next to me. I need you.

I want to delve in that terrifying yet pretty little mind of yours. Your sweet empathy and morals shadowed by hidden pure loathing and bitterness. I would soothe your worries and release your inhibitions. I will be the anchor to your obfuscated perception of reality and existence as you also, ground me with your refreshing goodness,” Hannibal explicated.

“Then when we are officially bound together and the darkness of the night encompasses us with its suffocating presence and we lie, ensconced in our beds. We will be each other’s solace, and forget all the anguish we have ever felt during the duration of our existence with the fleeting but overwhelming ecstasy of our joining. I will fill the gaping hole you have felt in your being and momentarily, complete what was achingly missing. I will trail my hands all over the length of your precious body that I wish to uncover unflinchingly. Flames will course through your veins as I smother you with kisses and firm caresses. I will grasp what you did not know what you needed to be handled as your very core will be filled with pleasure.”

If Will wasn’t blushing before than he was certainly doing so now. He was torn between saying something along the lines of, “I’m right here for you to take me.” He desperately wanted to let the doctor acknowledge his presence, but the words were caught in his throat, and were it him or was he feeling rather hot around the collar and faintly sweating? (He absolutely refused to face the faint tent in his trousers at hearing those implicitly graphic words of what Hannibal wanted to do to him…what he wanted Hannibal to do to his person.

“I want you to reciprocate the delight you give me by giving you this pleasure as a show of my love and adoration of you. I truly love you, Will…”

Hannibal turned around, shocked when he heard a reply to his statement.

“Umm, I think… that the feeling is returned, Hannibal,” a flushed Will Graham said to the one who just elaborately professed his feelings of love for him.

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