A Week, A Month, A Year - Part Three (Epilogue to Manipulation)

One year later
 
Hannibal watched as the dew wet grass poked up between his bare toes, the early morning light casting a faint tinge of pink on his skin and shivered. It wasn’t a cold morning, but he was still in the state of Washington, so it was hardly tropical, and he was dressed only in a pair of shorts, bare skin slicked in a faint sheen of sweat from his recent nightmare.
 
He’d woken up wrapped in the sheets; Face mercifully still sleeping next to him, only the sheer, utter terror he felt stopping him from screaming out loud. He’d jammed his fist into his mouth to silence the sobs he knew were coming and turned to Face, just needing to touch him gently, feel that heart beating strongly just under the skin. Safe. Loved. Alive.
 
And then he needed to get out, the cosy double room suddenly claustrophobic in the wake of his nightmare; he needed fresh air and open skies and a wide sweeping space as an antidote to the densely packed forest of his dream.
 
So now he was here, out in the paddock at the front of the holiday house they were currently staying in, breathing deeply, letting the smell of the nearby pine trees, so different from the scent of eucalyptus that he could still smell alongside the fear, calm his thumping heart, and wishing they would do the same for the pictures in his head. He shuddered.
 
This particular nightmare had started the first day they had finally found Face in that forest next to the ranch that Yousafzai was hiding out in. Face was heavily sedated, in the military hospital at Fort Irvin, guarded by men in suits and Hannibal was in the chair next to his bed. He’d dropped off, exhaustion finally claiming him, only to wake up not two hours later almost screaming in terror, tears streaming down his cheeks, as, for a terrible, terrifying minute, wasn’t sure which was real, this or his dream. Only touching Face reassured him, listening to the kid breathing, feeling the pulse thump in his wrist or his neck or his chest.
 
Ever since that night the damn thing had revisited him countless times, three or four times a week, sometimes more, and always exactly the same.
 
 They were in the forest, cool and dark and heavily scented.  Face was slumped against the trunk of a tree and Hannibal winced at the state he was in, beaten, bloody, pale and exhausted, it was obvious that the kid was right at the end of his rope. Yousafzai was partly hidden by a tree, but Hannibal could see they both had their guns up, were in a standoff, one that he could finish off pretty damn quickly once he got into a good place for a shot.
 
Dropping to his haunches he moved silently, around to the right, counting his steps, knowing that he wouldn’t have chance for a good look before he needed to put his shot in. He stopped as soon as he felt he’d gone far enough and immediately rose up through the bushes. Yousafzai was there, right in front of him, gun still pointing at Face and Hannibal took careful aim and squeezed.
 
The second his finger touched his trigger, before the shot had even been taken, the silence of the forest was ripped apart by gunfire. Yousafzai went down, Hannibal saw his shoulder shot blooming like a red flower in the gloom, but he also noted the head shot and Yousafzai was obviously dead even as he fell, Taylor would not be happy, Hannibal thought as he spun on his feet to turn to Face and froze.
 
Face was staring at him, wide blue eyes looking right at Hannibal as they had done almost every day for the last seventeen years. But not like this, never like this. Hannibal took a step in, his feet almost on autopilot but then he stopped again and stared, his eyes taking everything in, everything, but his brain just refusing to process any of it.
 
Those quick blue eyes looked at the too large clothes with trouser legs rolled up and blood stains all over his them, they took in the clumsy, swollen fingers, obviously been tied too tight and still trying to recover, they took in the bruised and swollen face, cut above his right eye, left eye almost swollen shut, they took in the neat round bullet hole just to the left of his forehead, and that’s when everything just stopped working.
 
With a thud, Hannibal fell to his knees.
 
It was at this point that the dream Hannibal always started screaming, while the real life version woke with a terrified start, tears wet on his cheeks.
 
Another shiver claimed him, and this time he knew it had very little to do with the early morning cold and he looked up at the closed curtains of the room he knew that Face was sleeping in and tried to reassure himself that the kid was fine. He was warm and safe and still asleep, and Hannibal just had to get himself back together and get up there to be with him again.
 
He sighed and wondered how long this dream would plague him, knew why it had chosen tonight of all nights to reappear; exactly three hundred and sixty five days since ten of Yousafzai’s men had decided to turn him out into the woods and hunt him like an animal. Not one of those men had lived to come out of those trees again, but Face had, and Hannibal had to remind himself of that fact every time he had this damn stupid dream. Face had come out, beaten and tortured and terrified, but he’d survived, and every week of the past year had seen him improve.
 
Some weeks were harder than others, many tears had been shed by them both, but at the end of that hellish year, Hannibal knew they had a beautiful, passionate, honest, solid relationship; more than Hannibal had ever dared hope for. Face had even said once that he would do it all again, those hours in Yousafzai’s cellar, if it meant finding Hannibal at the end of it. Hannibal, however, would not. He couldn’t, just couldn’t watch Face go through that ever again; not for any reward.
 
Of course Face carried his scars as well, he had his own nightmares, a very real terror of the dark, a lingering ache in his knee, but they faced them together, ran at the world hand in hand and beat the horrors back. But Hannibal kept his scars well and truly hidden, had never felt it was fair to burden Face with them, knowing what the kid had gone through on his own.
 
It was tough to keep them hidden though; Face was observant, bright, curious, of course he was going to ask about the nightmares and of course he was going to notice if Hannibal was trying to wrap him up in cotton wool.
 
They never discussed it though, not even the time when Face and Murdock had gone in to raid a mark’s safe and the security heavies had found them. They’d split up and Murdock had made it back to the RV point, eyes wide with fear. The three of them had grabbed their guns and stormed straight back to the office complex only to find it empty. No heavies, no Face and most worrying of all, no bad guy’s van.
 
Hannibal had flown into a blind panic, yelling at Murdock, asking him how he could have left Face, who in their right mind would ever think it was a good idea to split up but all the while he was just thinking, not again, not again, please Lord, don’t put him through that again...
 
And then, before they’d had even one good idea as to where to start looking, Face had wandered into the room, a bruise on his cheek, mud all over his clothes, a smile on his face and the contents of the safe in his hands. Hannibal had wanted to punch him himself, but in the end had just grabbed him, holding him so tightly while Face tried to calm him down, told him he was fine, that he’d jumped out the back of the van after picking his cuffs open, that the dumb assholes hadn’t even noticed he’d gone.
 
But Hannibal hadn’t settled, not until they were in the Motel that night and Face was on his back on the bed, legs up on Hannibal’s shoulders as Hannibal buried himself deep, deep inside his boy’s heat and promised himself that he would never let Face be hurt like that again. Ever.       
 
Back in the present, Hannibal sighed and started making his way back to the house, knowing that the last thing he wanted was for Face to wake up alone. His heart was calmer now, but every time he blinked all he could see were those cold, empty, lifeless eyes staring at him and it was slowly bleeding him dry.
 
_______________________________
 
Hannibal silently let himself back into the bedroom he had shared with Face in this borrowed house for the last two weeks. It was good to have had a break from the running and the moving on, but the family that lived here were due back from their vacation at the weekend so they would have to pack up and leave any day now. To his relief, Face was sleeping in exactly the same position he had been when Hannibal had left him; his patented ‘Star Fish’ position, flat on his back, arms and legs spread wide, taking up all the fucking bed. Hannibal smiled at him, relieved that the kid could do this again; for the first three months after his abduction, Face had only been able to sleep curled up tightly on his side, hanging onto Hannibal as if his life depended on it.
 
Creeping across the old, creaky floor, Hannibal slipped his shorts off and climbed into the bed, trying desperately hard not to jostle his sleeping lover he perched precariously, right on the edge of the mattress and gently pulled the duvet back over himself, sighing in contentment as he felt the warmth of his boy’s body reaching out to him from under the covers. Just for now, he knew he needed to stay back, knowing that one touch of his chilled skin against Face’s toasty warm limbs would jerk the kid into instant wakefulness, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. As he arranged his own body into as comfortable a position as he could in the circumstances, he let his eyes roam over Face, not trying to go back to sleep, just content to watch Face in his slumber.
 
Face was beautiful, he really was. Never in his whole life had Hannibal been drawn to someone the way he was to this man. Never. Since the first day he’d set eyes on him in the dust bowl of Kuwait he’d wanted him in his life. At first he’d been happy in the role of CO and mentor, the kid, and he really was just a child still at that point, had no one, and didn’t even see the point in keeping himself safe. Hannibal shook his head as he remembered some of the the reckless stunts he used to pull back then. But after a while, CO wasn’t enough, either was mentor. Friend, well that lasted a hell of a lot longer, but for the past few years, ever since their inglorious exit from the army, that was nowhere near enough either.
 
And now he had him, Hannibal couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at that thought and it was amazing, totally, incredibly, exhaustingly amazing. Yes, the past year had been hard, plenty of low points to work through, but there had been some highs too, some pretty extraordinary highs and Hannibal felt that, despite everything, having this man in his life, his heart and his bed made him the luckiest bastard alive.
 
As he lay, he couldn’t resist pulling the duvet back a little, lifting it from Face’s chest just so he could look, let his eyes roam all over that firm muscle, the caramel skin, littered with scars of course, but they didn’t matter, even the horrors they represented could be ignored when surrounded by so much beauty.
 
As Hannibal stared, Face stirred slightly in his sleep and pushed the duvet down a little further with his squirming, baring the top of one thigh and the very edges of the nest of hair that covered his groin. Hannibal felt his own body respond to that sight even as he let his eyes caress the freshly uncovered skin, smiling as the tan faded to white, watching as that flat stomach heaved with a deep breath, his fingers just itching to trace over the jutting hip bone. He was hard now, properly hard, and he knew they wouldn’t be getting out of this bed until they’d made love, and even the thought of it made his cock twitch in anticipation.
 
Their sex life was incredible, a little tiring at times, but again, better than anything he could ever have dared to hope for. Face loved sex, and he loved Hannibal and, those two facts, combined with the depth of Hannibal’s feelings of course, coalesced to make some pretty spectacular sessions; last night being a point in kind. Somehow, and Hannibal can’t quite bring himself to care just how at this point, they ended up on the balcony that led off their bedroom and over looked the front of the house and the long track leading down to the road. Hannibal had long had this fantasy of sex in public, of wanting to make love in a place where everyone could see them, where people could watch and know how beautiful Face was, how beautiful their love was, but of course it was only that, a fantasy. He knew damn well that plenty of people would not share his admiration for their act of love, and of course knew that trying anything at all like that would be one of the fastest ways back to jail.
 
But the balcony, well, that was a nice little compromise. They were right in the middle of nowhere here, slap-bang in Emptyville, but, and this was a big but, the balcony did open out onto the dirt road, the public dirt road, and absolutely anyone could just wander along at any time, plus of course, either BA or Murdock might just choose this minute to walk out into the paddock at the front for a breath of air or a stretch of their legs.
 
And if they did, then what would they see? Face, holding tight onto the railing of the balcony with both hands, his hips bent and his legs spread wide open, naked as the day he was born. And Hannibal, behind him, equally naked, one hand on Face’s smooth back, one hand curled around his swollen cock, his own erection hidden out of sight, buried deep inside his lover, his hips pounding out a frantic rhythm. If you were close enough, you would even be able to hear them, the moans and the grunts, the whispered encouragement and pleas for more, and if you stuck around long enough, you would be able to watch as Face threw his head back frozen in ecstasy , his cock pumping a steady stream of semen through the bars of the balcony and down onto the garden below, and Hannibal, teeth gritted and eyes closed shuddering and moaning over his boy’s back before eventually draping himself forward, like a human blanket and kissing Face’s neck and shoulders as he slowly came down from his high.   
 
Hannibal came back from his delicious memories to realise that his hand had dropped down to his groin and was slowly stroking the heat of his erection, staring at Face and wanting him, wanting him so damn much it almost hurt. And then Face stirred again, mumbling nonsense in his sleep, he turned onto his side, away from Hannibal, that beautiful ass just presenting itself as Face drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them close and drifting back into settled sleep.
 
After fighting with his conscience for about two minutes, Hannibal gave in and shifted forward, one finger hesitantly reaching out to trail down the crack between the two round cushions of flesh. Face didn’t move, didn’t stir, so Hannibal felt braver. He shifted in a bit, his skin warm enough now not to shock Face awake at the first touch and, using one hand to lift Face’s right buttock up and out of the way, he moved in with his finger again, finding that tight circle of puckered flesh and stroking gently.
 
This time Face did move, a slight shift to give Hannibal better access and a gentle huff of air from between his lips. Hannibal waited until he settled again, and then, slowly, gently, pushed in.
 
What he found once he’d breached that firm doorway made his own cock harden yet further. Face was so warm inside, beautifully hot as always, but he was also wet, slicked with left over lube and Hannibal’s come, still loose, and Hannibal was desperately grateful to their rough and frantic sex on the balcony last night and also to the fact that neither of them had had the energy to go and clean themselves up afterwards. A wonderful plan suddenly sprung to mind.
 
He inched forward, so careful not to wake his sleeping partner, and wriggled in a little, lining himself up just right. Then, with one hand carefully spreading Face’s cheeks, lifting the top one back, he took hold of the root of his cock, guided it into place, and then, gently holding Face’s hips still, he pushed in.
 
It was a beautiful feeling, always was a beautiful feeling this initial sheathing, but somehow, with Face so loose and relaxed next to him, it was even more incredible. He kept going, pushing forward until he was in as far as he could go and then he stopped. Face was still asleep, his lips open ever so slightly as he breathed, a little faster than before Hannibal thought, and there was a definite flush across his cheeks. Holding himself still, just enjoying the closeness, Hannibal leant forward and lifted the duvet away, noticing the tense little brown buds on either side of Face’s chest, and - he smiled widely - the swelling cock, not quite there yet, but on its way, that lay snug against a muscled thigh.
 
Lying back flush against Face’s back, Hannibal dropped a kiss onto the nape of his neck and started moving, just gently, rocking his hips with a tender in and out motion, no rush, no desperation, just warmth, compassion and lots and lots of love. He closed his eyes and let himself drift in the moment, his nose in the hair at the back of Face’s head, inhaling the familiar smell of his shampoo, rocking gently, stroking Face inside and out as his hands ran down the warmth of his arms.
 
“Boss,” the quiet, sleepy voice reached his ears and he smiled, opening his eyes and nuzzling into Face’s neck, “I thought I was dreaming...”
 
Hannibal chuckled and snapped his hips just a touch, just enough to draw a quick gasp from Face’s lips. “Yeah? And was it good, this dream?”
 
“Fucking amazing,” Face murmured, his fingers reaching around to stroke the root of Hannibal’s cock as it slid out from inside him, before slipping back in.
 
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hannibal’s voice was a hot whisper right in his ear, “I shouldn’t have woken you from it.”
 
Now it was Face’s turn to laugh as he pushed himself back to meet Hannibal’s thrust, “Believe me Hannibal, this is better. The reality of being with you is better than anything my mind can dream up any day...”
 
Hannibal dropped to kiss Face’s neck again, this time a little faster, this time, pausing to suck a little, just as the tempo in his hips started to speed up and those snaps became just a little more forceful. “And every day with you,” his breath was coming harder now, “is like living in a damn perfect dream...”
 
Face tipped his head back and Hannibal reached forward, lifting up on one elbow as he strained over Face’s shoulder to kiss him, their mouths fitting together with practised ease, sliding over one another, lips and tongue stroking, the pace quickening with every passing second, Hannibal’s hips setting the tempo. Then Face’s tongue slid into Hannibal’s mouth, mimicking the motion of the hard cock in his ass and Hannibal was gone. He seized that tongue in his mouth and sucked, hard, while Face just opened his mouth wider, granting full access and moaned deep in the back of his throat.
 
Hannibal’s thrusting was frantic now, rhythm and control gone as Face plunged his tongue over and over into his boss’ mouth, the whole of his world narrowed down to the feeling in his mouth and the feeling in his groin. He knew he was about to come, could feel the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach, his balls tightening more with each second and reached a blind hand down Face’s chest, across his flat stomach until he found what he was searching for and wrapped his long fingers around his boy’s previously ignored erection.
 
The last year had not passed in vain, Hannibal had spent many an hour learning everything he could about Face, about his body and what worked for him and what didn’t. Therefore, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, exactly what he needed to do, exactly how he needed to stroke that hot, hard, cock to have his boy coming within a minute, arching his back to jam his ass right up to Hannibal, tensing against him and damn near choking him with the insistent thrusting of his tongue. And Hannibal replied, jamming his stuttering hips forward, sucking hard on that proffered tongue and filling his boy with his release, feeling every pulse of his cock as it strained against the heat of Face’s flesh.
 
They didn’t pull away even as their orgasms left them heavy and sated. Hannibal’s hand now coated in sticky, cooling semen, stayed wrapped around Face’s softening cock, while Face kept his mouth pressed up against Hannibal’s, kissing him deeply, but slowly, languorously, as they both drifted gently back to earth.
 
It was Hannibal that needed air first, pulling away slightly, and, as Face lowered his chin to his chest with a groan against the stretched muscles, he dropped back to the nape he loved so much, where the hair was that tiny bit longer, little curls lying flush against sweaty skin and kissed it, tiny, little closed lip kisses, just wanting Face to know he was still here, still loved him.
 
“Wow,” Face said eventually. “That was something else, boss.”
 
Hannibal chuckled and wrapped an arm around his boy’s ribs, pulling him in a little closer. “You are something else...” he whispered in reply.
 
“So,” Face’s voice was deliberately casual, relaxed even, but Hannibal tensed; he knew this man so well now, he knew there was something else coming. “You were awake early this morning.” Snuggling closer to the sweet smelling hair at the nape of Face’s neck, Hannibal just made a vague noise of agreement and hoped Face would move on. No such luck. “Another nightmare, huh?”
 
This time Hannibal froze and Face turned around in his arms, pulling himself free from the grip of Hannibal’s hand and cock. He looked right into those wide blue eyes and smiled, “You know this can’t go on, right boss? These nightmares you’ve been having?”
 
Frowning Hannibal tried to pull away, but Face held him close. “It’s nothing,” he muttered gruffly instead.
 
Face seemed not to hear him at all, instead just tilted his head to one side slightly and stared into his eyes, as if trying to see the dreams for himself. “What happens, John,” he whispered, “in your head at night that get’s you so upset you would cry? So upset you would sneak out of our bed and hide in the bathroom or the kitchen or the van until you feel better?”
 
Hannibal just stared at him, stunned that he knew, that he’d maybe always known and never mentioned it until now.              
 
“Is it me?” Face continued, “Is it something I do? Or something that happens to me?”
 
Suddenly denial seemed pointless, foolish even. What on earth was the point in lying anymore to this person who obviously knew him so, so, well? “Something happens,” he whispered instead, his voice a dry croak.
 
Face nodded, as calm as if they were discussing the plan for a job. “So, what is it then, John? Is it something you saw in the woods, or in the house? Or something you read in those damn interviews?”
 
Hannibal could only shake his head.
 
“Something else then...” Face frowned in thought. “Come on, love,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to smooth the stubbled skin of Hannibal’s jaw, “tell me. Tell me what it is and we can beat it together.”
 
Hannibal closed his eyes and there they were, those beautiful eyes he loved so much - empty, dead, staring at him. He shuddered. “No,” he replied, his voice barely audible, he couldn’t do that to Face, not when the kid was working so hard at slaying his own demons.
 
“You think it will upset me?” Hannibal kept his eyes tightly closed, trying to get rid of that haunting image. “John, sweetheart, nothing on this earth will ever upset me as much as hearing you crying in the night, choking on your hand to try and keep from letting me know how much you are hurting. Nothing...” Face’s hand had moved to his hair now, sliding through the short strands, feeling the skin beneath his finger tips. “I need you to tell me. Please.”
 
And it was that voice and the strength that Hannibal heard in it, the strength that had survived torture and despair and loneliness like no other and was now ready to help Hannibal survive this, that suddenly told him it was okay, and Face could take it, and when they were done, they would be better and stronger and even closer than ever. He opened his eyes and instantly those dead blue orbs were gone, replaced instead by eyes that were iridescent, shining and so very much alive.
 
Hannibal took a deep, deep breath as Face tightened his grip on him, “It’s always the same dream, back in the forest where I found you that morning...” and started losing his own demons.