& seductive

anonymous asked:

I read your hannigram fic with each chapter being a new soulmate prompt- and I thought I'd propose the "You have a tattoo of how old you both are when you meet" one?? I mean, probs not as angsty as some other options but still some good possibilities!!

The morning Will turns he Will pulls the covers over his head and screams.

He is not ready for this. He does not want this, did not sign up for it, he was not asked if he was okay with being cosmically tied to someone he’s never met.

He can hide in bed for a year, right?

He calls in sick to work and spends the day rubbing the glowing 3846 on the inside of his arm, hoping if he concentrates hard enough he can make it go away.

-x-

He meets Hannibal Lecter when he is 38 years and seven months old.

He knows right away, from the itch under his sleeve. Hannibal looks the right age, though there’s no chance to glimpse his mark underneath the bespoke suit layers. He asks anyway.

“How old are you Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal smiles coolly. “45.”

Oh.

Will tries not to be disappointed. He didn’t want this anyway. And a psychiatrist for a soulmate would probably be unbearable.

It’s just, he’s handsome - but more than that, he’s interesting. Erudite but a little strange. They might have been suited for each other, in another life.

Also his cheekbones could cut glass and Will wants to lick them.

When’s your birthday? Will wants to ask. Is it in the next five months? Can you handle a man with a broken brain? Have you ever sucked a dick before?

A darker, deeper voice inside him wants to ask Can I suck yours?

“You want to know when my birthday is,” Hannibal observes.

Will really hopes Hannibal didn’t intuit any of his other questions.

“No,” Will says too quickly. “Why would I want to know that?”

“Because your arm is burning. You’re rubbing at the skin where your mark should be. I assume there is a 46 next to your 38?”

Will freezes.

“How do you know I’m 38?”

Hannibal doesn’t answer. Instead he crowds in on Will, walking him backwards until his back bumps against the ladder in his office.

“My birthday is next week,” Hannibal purrs.

He cups Will’s shoulder in one hand and his hip in the other.

“I assume I’ll feel a similar itch then.”

His lips are so, so close. Will shudders and his head flops back, thumping softly against the ladder.

“How do you know?” Will breathes.

Hannibal leans in close and honest-to-God smells Will. Loud and extravagant. He makes a pleased, rumbling sound like a big cat.

“I know,” Hannibal whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and sends shivers ghosting from Will’s spine to his fingertips. Hannibal begins kneading his hip with his left hand, and the hand cupping his shoulder slides up to caress his face, long fingers sinking into Will’s disheveled curls.

“What are you d–”

His words are swallowed by Hannibal’s greedy mouth, who licks and paws at him with almost violent need. It’s an extraordinary first kiss, far from polite and just on the right side of filthy. Hannibal widens his stance and Will squeezes the meat of his ass with a growl.

When did he grab Hannibal’s ass? Never mind, he doesn’t care. At some point his shirt became half-buttoned and Hannibal is now biting his nipple, nothing matters except the heated press of their bodies and the rocketing of his heart.

Then Hannibal tears his mouth away and steps back. Will whimpers and reaches for him but Hannibal keeps his distance.

“I have always loathed the concept of soulmates.” Hannibal’s voice is low and gruff. “The very idea of being tied to someone at the moment of my birth - a person whose identity I have no control over - it has always sickened me.”

Will licks his lips and sucks in a breath.

“I was determined to never meet my soulmate, and if I could not prevent that, I would reject them.”

Will’s stomach drops. Fuck.

“And then I met you.” Hannibal rubs the pad of his fingertips over his swollen mouth. “From the instant you walked in here, I wanted.”

A shaky smile dances over Will’s face. Hannibal mirrors it.

“I know the feeling,” Will says.

“Well.” Hannibal steps back into his space, hands at Will’s waist as he pulls him close to his chest. Beneath the cotton of his shirt, Will’s mark burns like fire. He’s starting to feel dizzy.

“Let us show Fate what she has done in bringing us together.”

Will’s eyes drift closed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” Hannibal leans in and nips at his ear. “That together.” He kisses Will’s throat, holds his mouth open over Will’s pulse.

“We can be monsters.”