Will is never as overwhelmed by his empathy as when he is with Hannibal. There are so many new feelings to experience through the other man that he’s never had to describe or perceive before. And this is never as true as it is during sex. +

There aren’t enough words to define these novel sensations: aroused by a visceral awareness of Will’s skeleton and how easily bones could be broken with every touch, ecstatic with the feeling of Will’s fragile tendons stretched taut like bowstrings beneath him. +

Will knew he had his own fair share of unique and disturbing new feelings during sex too—the blissful rush of realizing how easily the fingers in his mouth could suffocate him, the wonderful sting of visualizing his own scalp detaching as his hair is pulled—and it’s too much to*

feel them both concurrently.

His own feelings at the same time as Hannibal‘s are two beautiful and frightening sides of the same coin being viewed simultaneously: the excitement of sharp nails digging in above major arteries, mixed with the heady power of +

knowing exactly how fast the blood could soon be rushing out of your beloved; the aching anticipation of ugly bruises you can feel forming, mixed with the intense satisfaction of knowing that capillaries are bursting underneath your fingers; the euphoria of +

the most vital aspects of yourself being in the hands of another, mixed with the adoration—the exaltation—of been given full control of a human life.

His own twisted desires race toward the cliff’s edge right alongside Hannibal’s, pushing and pulling each other until+

every part of Will tumbles into the water. It is utter torture, leaving him tender and flayed open every single time. He knows he should shut off his empathy when they’re together. He knows it’s dangerous to be so throughly overwhelmed. He never does.

(If you saw me fuck up this thread the first time no you didn’t)