Will and Hannibal

It was a cold July night when Will and Hannibal were at the latter's home for an important dinner. There were hundreds of guests; as of yet, no one knew of the tacit relationship between Will and Hannibal, a cherished secret kept between the pair.

"Good evening," Will said as his eyes locked onto Hannibal's, like a fight to the death between gladiators where glory would belong to whoever bathed in the other's blood.

"Good evening," Hannibal responded almost automatically. There was no way not to get lost in his voice or his elegance; from his blonde hair to his perfectly tailored suit, Hannibal Lecter was his undoing, and Will Graham was his golden boy, his golden lamb.

The language of love was complicated, but it would always be different, especially between two hearts that bleed full of love and for love. He would kill for you and die in your name; you only have to ask.