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"How would you do it Will?"
Hannibal lay back in bed, gazing up at the other man with an icy blue stare that Will couldn't ignore. At least, not for long.
The words tasted bitter in the back of his throat, and Will adjusted Hannibal's weight beneath him. Stalling for time.
"With my hands," he whispered, finally meeting Hannibal's eyes, "I would kill you with my hands."
Beneath him, Will could feel Hannibal's body go warmer, comfortable heat gathering under the blankets. Hannibal's hips were tucked securely between Will's knees; though he had no illusion that the older man couldn’t flip him in a moment.
"That's a very intimate way to end someone's life, Will."
Letting out the ghost of a laugh, Will clutched tighter to the feather down pillows around Hannibal's head.
"You make me feel intimate, Dr. Lecter," Will said after a moment, heart racing in his chest.
A small smile curled up one corner of Hannibal's lips, arching his body up to slide against Will's.
Taken aback, Will hissed in a tiny breath, suddenly feeling too warm, too close, bathed in every scent that hung from Hannibal Lecter; everything from ginger and mint, to expensive cologne, to the underlying sourness of rotting meat.
Will's fingers were around his throat in a manner of seconds - Hannibal had time to stop him. He could have put a stop to all of this if he wanted to.
But he would much prefer to watch it play out.
Fingernails biting into the soft flesh of Hannibal's neck, Will felt the older man's breathing begin to restrict.
And it felt like power.
It felt like power when he didn't relent, and Hannibal's eyes started to roll gracefully back into his head, his eyelids fluttering.
Leaning forward, Will pressed wind-chapped lips to Hannibal's silky smooth ones, letting the pressure of his fingertips fall lax.
That was all the opening Hannibal needed to flip Will around on his back, pinning him to the bed with his hips, arms held above his head on the pillows. Not a gentle grip - nothing with Hannibal was ever gentle.
"How did it feel?" Hannibal leaned close, whispering into Will's ear, tickling the soft hairs there with his breathe. "To have power over me?"
"It felt good," Will rasped, the wind having been knocked out of him when he landed on his back. He searched frantically to meet Hannibal's frosty gaze in the dark. "How do I make you feel, Dr. Lecter?"
"Intimate," Hannibal said simply, a small tilt to his head before he leaned back in to finish what Will had started.