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Will Graham took a moment to stare at the stone structure. He always thought of therapists working in large offices; a bustling building where one would walk inside, take an elevator to their floor of disorder, then anxiously sit in a waiting room before walking to their doctor’s suite. An impersonal, mass-produced cluster of offices.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter broke every stereotype, he supposed. The building was large and commercial, but the parking area resembled something for a residential home. He wondered what the top two floors were used for. Additional office space? Did he have an overwhelming amount of file cabinets on his patients? Where they rented offices for another business altogether? Or was it extra storage space for his extensive antique collection? It was easy to think about stuff like this. Speculating Lecter’s private life was always a relaxing pastime when Will wanted to escape work.
The latest case involved children. Toddlers. One entire daycare. Graham’s normal hours of sleep were non-existent for the last eight days; not counting the naps he took at Quantico. Now, he laid awake, covered in sweat, trying to get the killer’s mind out of his own. He feared his shell cracking and proving Jack right.
So, after the second restless night, Will picked up his conversations with Dr. Lecter. Hannibal was one of those rare people that cared about those he dealt with, and Will never doubted this when he was with him. He never felt, when talking to Hannibal, that his mind roamed elsewhere. He always gave the agent his full attention. Made him feel like he was the only thing that mattered inside his huge office. He became apart of Will’s small social circle and, even more rare, Will considered Hannibal a good friend. The man placed Will under the same light.
Graham shivered. The cold breeze made him hop up the steps.
- - -
“Have the dreams returned?”
“No. I don’t sleep except for what I can get between lectures and Jack hounding me.” Will rubbed his eyelids.
“Is Jack aware of your distress?”
“Jack’s aware…of my instability.”
An abrupt crash outside the office made both men halt. Will whipped around, eyes searching for the cause of such a violent noise while Hannibal only stood from behind his desk.
“Exactly what kind of security do you have?” A serial killer had invaded and attacked Lecter in this very same office only a month ago. But before Will could elaborate on his complaint, a man entered through the door normally reserved for exits.
Blood spatter covered his face, but both recognized trespasser as a man they helped get off the streets.
With no words, he pointed his loaded gun at Will.
- - - - -
“Don’t get it, don’t understand. What’s to get? Get him. He gets me. I get him, get, get, he gets everyone.”
Rick Warren sat in the back of the secured van with handcuffs chaffing his wrists. For three weeks he was held captive in a stark white room at the prison. Now he was getting transferred. Moved to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. But that wasn’t right. None of this was right.
He had been so careful, so meticulous with his work. Always wore gloves (but he wanted to touch-touch-to-), never revealed his face, and he scarred those families so beautifully as he forced them to live with the nightmares he created. Many times, his victims begged him to slash their throats when his work was done. But he never did. At least, most of the time. He was good. He was flawless.
“He’s just as fucked up as me. Me, me, me, just as fucked up as the rest. All the rest.”
Rick Warren underestimated the FBI agent always featured on Tattlecrime. It just seemed like sensationalized articles; some crazy guy who was considered a good crazy -good crazy?- that could see into the mind’s of killers and catch them. Ha! He wasn’t a psychic. He wasn’t even official FBI, was he? But stupid little William Graham caught him. He understood how Rick Warren thought, seemingly knew how he choose his victims. And William Graham trapped him before he could have fun again. He was so close. It wasn’t fair.
He was just outside the Nelson’s house. Steps away from the porch door, ready to grab the handle when-
-Will Graham pressed a gun to his temple.
Will was just as crazy as he was. His head was just as skittish with neurons snapping crazy. It wasn’t fair for someone like him to betray his own.
“Watch. Route is obstructed ahead. ETA addition of 45. Be advised.” The guard across from Rick Warren adjusted the radio on his shoulder before taking a glance at the second guard.
Will Graham. William Graham. Now he was messed up. Pretending to be normal. That was worse than hiding who you really were. He’s just as horrible as Rick Warren. Why didn’t he get what was coming to him?
“It’s not fair…it’s not fair…”
“Hey, shut the fuck up.” The second armored man pressed his baton into his side.
Rick Warren was a tall man, but lanky. He wasn’t intimidating with his large glasses and mousey limbs, but that was to his advantage. It was a very serious mistake all of his victims made. An easy oversight even the FBI neglected to notice.
Except William Graham.
“You’re pissed,” Rick Warren laughed. “You’re pissed our little ride together got longer. Do I, do I make you uncomfortable? Yeah, uncomfortable?”
“You shut your fucking mouth, you piece of shit.”
“Hey.” The other warned.
Rick Warren eyed the baton in the man’s fist.
- -
He estimated it would take one hour before the State Hospital staff would realize the transport never arrived, possibly under devious circumstances. Maybe another hour before they would find the empty van and report Rick Warren, the Kingsway Killer, missing. On the run. Free.
Free to do what he wanted. He did want to kill again. Blood stained his jumpsuit so he traded with the dead guard. He stole everything else.
“Keeping me locked up, locked, trapped. But Graham can walk free. He’s crazy but free. He caught me but he wasn’t caught. He tried to kill me. Kill me. Kill him.”
NAME: Richard (Rick) Alexander Warren
DATE OF TRANSFER: 3/14/15 DOB: 11/2/70
SEX: M MARITAL STATUS: N/A SUPERVISING PHYSICIAN: Hammond
REGISTER NUMBER: 048 WARD: B
“Kingsway Killer” - Raped-murdered girlfriend in 2001, raped-murdered man in 2009, torture-murdered three families (2010-2011), tortured four families (2010-2015), suspected in two other killings.
Detail: Broke into wealthy suburban homes, would torture families living in them (always four, two children), force family members into sexual intercourse (mothers/sons, fathers/daughters, siblings). Motivation was sexual. HIGH RISK PATIENT: Skilled marksmen, War Veteran
- - - - -
“I caught you, Will Graham.” Rick aimed between stunned eyes. “I caught you like you caught me.”
Hannibal was still, but only to observe. He examined his intruder, quickly, as fingers stretched for the scalpel on his desk. But the man had sharp eyes. Rick shifted the barrel of the gun over to him, livid, and the doctor paused.
“No, no, Rick-” Will placed his hands out in front of him with tentative steps forward. “Leave Dr. Lecter out of this. I’m the one that caught you.” His voice was soft. He never worked as a negotiator before, not as a profession, but he knew basics. And he had the common sense to understand this was a very fragile situation, with potentially horrible outcomes. Will didn't have his gun on him and he suspected the same was true for Lecter. “Rick,” his voice shook, concern growing as the killer continued his stare at the doctor. “Rick, whatever you want to settle, we can settle it. Between you and me. Dr. Lecter isn’t going to do anything. He won’t. We won’t involve him in this.”
Hannibal watched the exchange, curious. Perhaps Will wasn't able to, but he could subdue the man, even against a gun. He was a seasoned psychiatrist after all. He could be persuasive when he wanted to. He also possessed quicker reflexes than most. One man with a grudge wouldn’t stop him. But having Will try to protect him was…interesting. Flattering. Confirming he had successfully built a bond between them.
“Rick?”
Warren ignored Will. “Lecter. Hannibal Lecter?” He tasted the name on his tongue, it was certainly familiar. It had been tossed around during his trial. “Doctor Lecter? As in…Will’s therapist?” The sudden laugh made Graham flinch. “I- I came to kill you. Kill you, Will.” Rick directed the gun back to his face. “Did I interrupt, interrupt a conversation? Was Will in the middle revealing some childhood pain? Did his uncle, his uncle have a secret cave in his back yard? Because Will is crazy, isn’t he?” He bared his teeth, pressing a finger to his temple, “He’s not quite…right. That’s how he caught me, you know. Yes, you know. That‘s why he is not caught. Because he has you. Doctor. Hannibal.”
“I am his consultant, Mr. Warren.” Hannibal clasped his hands in front of him, abandoning the sharpener.
“Therapist.”
“We have conversations.” He corrected. “Will helps me just as much as I help him.”
“Fuck him.”
Will faltered. The insult was said in a very odd way. He couldn’t have heard what he thought he did. But when the tense silence confirmed what he feared, he blurted, “What?”
“Fuck him, Dr. Lecter.”
Hannibal blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Fuck,” he pointed the gun at Will to illustrate his words, “your patient. Doctor.”
That was how the man forced those families, Will thought, at least the ones able to be interviewed. Rick was just a coward behind a gun. And when he encountered resistance, he used the weapon as penalty. This was similar to the Kingsway Killer’s MO. These were two men who helped get a monster off the streets, two friends who trusted each other. Will who trusted Hannibal. Who felt safe with him. There was a sacred bond with family, but there was also one with friendship. That much was the same here. But the motive was not. This wasn’t sexual. This was revenge.
It would be later when Will would second-guess that.
Will focused on the gun as his cheeks flushed, tongue-tied. “I-uh-No. No- You can’t be serious- you, you know we’re federal agents. Your escape alerted…our team, they’ll be-”
The sound of the gun’s safety clicked off.
“I wished to kill you.” Rick said, “But I decided to humiliate you instead. Dr. Lecter, fuck Will Graham until you both finish. In this office. Right now. Or you both die.”
“I will not. I’m sorry, Mr. Warren, but your request is improper and at the very least tasteless. I have to ask you to slowly place the firearm on the ground and-”
“I will shoot you in the dick.” Rick shouted, “I will shoot you then shoot Will. You are going to rape your patient.”
“Rick…” Will could not find the words to express how outlandish the demand was. Not even his dreams were so bizarre. He didn’t have relations with other men, never had. And as far as he knew, Lecter never had either. So how did they arrive at this point? With a man holding a gun to their heads and forcing them into this situation? “Look, I have no inclination for that kind of thing, Rick. You’re pissed, I get that. I understand. But what you’re suggesting, it’s-” he struggled to explain, “just not something I can do. We can settle this-”
A bullet cracked through the room. Will instinctively bent over, hiding his face in his arms. Thunder roared in his ears. When he realized he wasn’t hit, Graham glanced behind him to see a still-standing Hannibal. It had been a warning shot.
Will’s mind shortened out. He had no idea what to do. Take the risk and lunge? Hope to tackle the marksmen before receiving a fatal blow? He would have to make sure he subdued the killer if he chose that option, or else Rick wouldn’t hesitate killing Hannibal for his stupidity. Fleeing certainly wasn’t an option in the middle of a spacious office. And he would never leave Hannibal.
“I am not suggesting this.”
Hannibal felt the corners of his lips twitch with satisfaction, but he maintained his reserve. If Mr. Warren realized he wasn’t a sheep, but a very pleased wolf, then this would not unfold the way it was now. Yes he wanted this; it was a gift from the Devil himself with his precise timing. Lecter’s reserve had begun to slip when Will increased his visits to almost daily. He had even caught himself sketching Will while estimating the dosage of a muscle relaxant during a session.
But the Devil sent this endowment at his doorstep, as though hearing his ill intentions and answering them with this monster. And who was he to deny a temptation from the god of persuasion himself? He was giving Hannibal a much more enjoyable option than drugging the fascinating mind and reducing Will to a mess of flesh.
With a pointed gun, Hannibal could have all of Will. He would have to make do with the audience.
Will stood, his rapid blinking soon becoming an open stare. He stiffened when Hannibal unfastened the button on his suit and shrugged it off. Will and Rick watched, curious, both wondering if the doctor would try restraining the murderer. But then he slipped off his shoes.
“Why…” His adams apple bobbed, “-why are you doing that? Dr. Lecter? You seriously can’t be-He’s bluffing,” Will hissed. “He’s going to kill us anyway.”
Dr. Lecter loosened his tie. “I am not going to let you die.”
“But you can’t-”
“Listen to your therapist, Will.” Rick Warren took steps closer with his gun level, “No one’s comin’. Just us here. And your doctor is smart. He’s trying to save your life. Least you could do is try to save his.” Targeting family was always easy; threatening someone at gunpoint always worked when the people cared. His cock twitched; best friends was a new one, but proving to be just as exciting.
Reluctantly, Will turned to Hannibal.
“Come on, doctor. I think your patient needs a kiss of encouragement.”
“I’m going to break you in half,” Will said.
Rick threw his own head back. “I’m sure. Yes, sure-sure-sure. But. I think you really outta go with the flow here, Will.”
This was beyond twisted and insane. This was inhuman. Will felt his pulse in his throat, heat behind his eyes. With his adrenaline, he flinched at Hannibal’s sudden closeness, so caught up in his own racing thoughts he missed the other man move closer. It was difficult to give any sort of eye contact, not even the usual glance at Lecter’s tie. Hannibal was a tall man, taller than most, but now, before Will, he seemed to loom.
“Kiss him.”
“Dr. Lecter-”
“Kiss him, doctor.”
Hannibal leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Will’s lips. It was just a small peck, an act of reluctance and logic. He needed Will’s trust. He could certainly overpower the depraved man staining his carpet with blood, but wouldn‘t. Not when the outcome was a blushing, fumbling Will. Hannibal predicted Warren’s next sentence as if a script laid before him.
“That was god-awful, doctor. Kiss him like a lost lover.”
Will made an odd noise in his throat, his eyes staring at Hannibal’s socks. “I, um, can’t do this, Hannibal,” he said through clenched teeth. “You don’t have to-”
“He is not bluffing, Will. I will not let you die. You trust me, don’t you?” The agent nodded, mouth slacked. “You need to take deeper breaths. You’re going to hyperventilate. It’s all right.”
“What…what kind of definition-”
“I have worked with many unique people over years, Will.” Hannibal placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “This unfortunate state of circumstance is not terribly bizarre to me.”
“Dr. Lecter, I don-”
Metal pressed into the back of Will’s skull and he lifted his gaze with a pale face. “Come on, come on, come on. Not asking again. Again, again.”
Brown eyes met blue and Will stuttered. “We-”
Maybe it was another plea, more bargaining, or vocalized insecurity; whatever Will might have said, it was cut off by Hannibal’s mouth on his own, halting sound. “Relax,” he said through the kiss, not worried with the gun aimed against his agent’s head. Will’s lips were soft; it was exquisite to see how much the man trusted him. The brunet relented against Hannibal’s chest almost immediately, as though his anxiety traveled through the kiss and escaped. Hannibal Lecter was unconventionally attractive, but Will Graham never imagined transference happening with him. Besides being straight, Will never thought about sex with Lecter because he never thought of his friend as a man, but as something far more precious; a mirror into his own soul.
Though…maybe a part of him could be… attracted to the same sex. To his own therapist. If but a little.
Immediately after the thought crossed his mind, Will blockaded it out. He needed to do this for their lives, not because of some deep buried fantasy. With the strong incentive of a gun aimed at his head, Will tried to yield into Hannibal. He grunted into the other male’s mouth and brought a hand up around his neck, gently squeezing, attempting to control the kiss. The gun tapped against his skull. Out of frustration, Will decided to give the fucker what he asked for. He licked Hannibal’s lips before shoving his tongue inside. Lecter convulsively swallowed, relaxing, as Will pushed against his tongue. The taller male’s surprised grunt brought Will back to reality, suddenly shocked from his willingness to continue, and he pulled back. There was absolutely no way he actually wanted this. It was only to convince the sick bastard Warren to let them live and go.
“Yeah, yeah, good.” Warren stepped to the side, just out of reach, with a thrilled expression upon his bloody face. “That’s a little more my style, you know? Yeah. Style. Now keep up that style you two and start fucking. Now, I’m not picky. Cowgirl, vanilla, a little doggy.” He listed off the positions, laughing. The bulge in his jeans obvious. “Take your pick. Just make sure you fuck him hard, Doctor. And remember what you’re fucking for.”
Will wiped the saliva off of his chin, wincing every time the gun cocked in his direction. The entire ordeal tested Hannibal’s restraint, but he still managed to gently take hold of Will’s trembling arm and lead him over the short distance to his desk. He was tender, sensitive, because Will placed faith in Hannibal to take care of him and he wanted to keep that façade going. It crumbled bit by bit, however, with every stumbling step Will took, his breathing short and fast.
“M-maybe together,” Will spoke under his breath, “We could…take him down, Lecter, maybe-”
The gun thrusted into the small of Will’s back, as though trying to force its way into his skin. Will propped his weight with arms on the desk. The man demanded that he take off his jacket and shoes. With lips pressed together and a sheen of sweat on his forehead, Will did so. He had to briskly shake his fingers to dispel the jittering energy. He was frustrated with Warren. With himself. Hannibal stood close by, watching, stationary not so much of the imminent threat on Will’s life, but rather to observe his agent’s inner conflict. Would Will pounce like an animal, tearing the madman apart with his own hands in a reckless attempt to save them? Would he swallow his self-respect and grudgingly obey him? Both possibilities were appealing.
In the end, as Hannibal suspected, Will complied.
“Doctor,” Warren nodded. “Take off his belt.”
He paused for two seconds, a reasonable delay, before gently placing a warm hand on Will’s shoulder. Will shot a glance at him, but otherwise stayed still, hands fidgeting and face red. “I will not hurt you, Will. Not if I can help it.”
Will rubbed the middle of his forehead, eyes closed. His belt slipped through the loops and onto the floor in one swift tug. “Yeah.” He said. “Okay.”
Graham knew what was about to happen, but his body wasn’t in compliance with his mind. Neither he nor Hannibal could logic their way out, could fight this madman. They were stripped of all their options, save for stubborn defiance until, of course, one or both of them were shot. Will tried to forget the case file details pertaining to Warren’s fondness of post mortem mutilation. Instead, he tried to focus on the last time he fed his dogs. Would they be okay until someone went looking for him in Wolf Trap?
“Yes, good. Against your own desk,” the Kingsway Killer snickered. “Use your fingers first, doc.”
With eyes nowhere but on Will, Hannibal pinched the waistline of his boxers and slipped them down until they caught around his ankles. His cock, framed by small curls of dark hair, was soft and pale. Will arched with a grimace when the stoic man took it into his hand, the only noise in the large office were Will’s nails fumbling pointlessly against the desk behind him, and his wavering breaths. He leaned into it like a lifeline.
It was evident, as Hannibal tucked skilled digits along Will’s balls and through the coarse hair, that the man was humiliated. It was an attractive look with his flushed cheeks.
“Come on, doctor, give him his treatment.”
“Han-” Will grunted low in his throat when Hannibal pushed a finger into his ass. It was abrupt and viciously rough, but the soft murmurs Hannibal gave him as he pressed Will’s head into his shoulder was a small, but welcome comfort.
Will was tight. He clenched his muscles, trying to deny access and push him back out. Although Hannibal could very easily ask him to relent in his steady voice, the sight of Graham writhing under his touch was delicious. The sound of him muttering under such harsh but delicate breaths.
“haa…ahh…Christ…”
Hannibal used his free hand to caress the back of Will’s head in the crook of his shoulder. He held him there when he tried to flinch away as he bent his finger inside. “Deep breaths, Will.” He murmured when the other male whined into his collar, his trembling hands vandalizing his desk with scratch marks.
“Ruin him, doctor, come on, come on. Destroy the catcher of killers.”
Will lifted his head not to seethe at Warren beside them, but to give Hannibal a look of consent, even if uncertain. With the quick glance, Will gave Hannibal his permission to abuse him. It was a look the doctor burned into his mind as he reluctantly nodded and continued to caress Will. The taller male held Will against him when he added a second finger, stretching and twisting inside. Will whimpered, understanding he had nowhere to run but squirmed within his doctor’s grasp anyway.
“Hann…ibal…aahh…you need…to…ah….” He jerked at every intrusion, mouth bobbing like a fish as Hannibal forced himself inside. Will’s cock was still limp, and his eyes occasionally rolled to show their whites. Hannibal found the sight so wonderful he wanted to swallow young William whole.
“See? Do you see?” Will rolled his head in Lecter’s grasp, and met a smiling Garrett Hobbs. He stood beside him, smiling like he did when Will had shot him in the kitchen. “Do you see? See?” Through the pain, Will blinked.
“Do you see?” Warren smiled beside him, “You understand now, don’t you? You understand. You see. You are humiliated. You are uncomfortable. But you like it.”
“Ah...Haah!” Will thrashed in Lecter‘s arms “…you…have no…idea..how I...eeh...feel…right now.”
Warren pulled back. “Hurt him, Dr. Lecter. If I think you’re holding back, I’ll blow Will’s balls off.” Just as Hannibal counted on, his earlier statement fueled Warren’s spite. “Fucking destroy him , doctor.”
Hannibal dragged his fingers out of Will and maneuvered the trembling man so he turned around and faced the desk. Maybe he was trying to make this more bearable for Will, so he wouldn’t be forced to look at Lecter as he fucked him dry. Or maybe Hannibal just knew this positioning was best for a deeper dive.
“Shh…Will,” Hannibal pressed his weight against Graham’s back to pacify the unexpected thrashing. Few of his papers slipped off the desk and Will kept glancing around, looking for an exit. He felt light-headed and trapped. “Aw, what’s wrong, Will?” The bloody man walked around the writing table and gripped the wooden chair, the gun pointed level at Hannibal. “What’s wrong, hm?”
Instinctively, Will jerked his outstretched hands back and bent them at his sides as his exposed length pressed against the desk’s edge. He was ensnared, propped upon Lecter’s desk with a crazed killer in front of him and his coerced friend pressing into him from behind. Will tried to edge away, but it was useless. Ignoring the sick fuck was his best course of action at the moment. Really, he didn’t need to see whether or not Warren was getting off to this situation. He could tell by simply listening to the man’s breathy words. “Your doctor isn’t inside you anymore, is that it? Did it feel good to have some sane inside you, Will? Do you miss it? Wait, wait doctor. Wait until he begs.”
If Rick had paid attention, he would have noticed the gleam in Hannibal‘s eye. He looked down at Will.
“Wha-what?” The agent’s voice wavered. Now the fucker is making me beg?
“Beg your doctor to fuck you, Will.” Warren’s eyes darkened with intensity. He licked his lips.
Graham found it hard to swallow. Tears built up behind his eyes. This was mortifying. He’d rather experience denailing or getting so cut up his face is forever disfigured. The gun cocked in his direction. “Beg Dr. Lecter.”
A few tears broke free. “P-please, Dr. Lecter…” He scrunched up his face. “Hannibal, please.”
“Do better than that, Will.”
Another shuddering breath paired with a hateful glare at Warren. “Please, Dr. Lecter, fuck me. I want you to fuck me right now.”
Hannibal glanced between the two men and made a show of waiting until the gun was once again pointed at him. Yes, Will was furious at Rick “Kingsway” Warren for forcing the honorable Dr. Lecter into this. And because Hannibal just had no way of distracting Warren by throwing something atop his desk and striking the killer before taking the gun away, he only said, “I am sorry”.
Will pressed his head down into the wood and his bottom half shivered from the air. Although Hannibal enjoyed the sight, he hated knowing Warren could to. When the man walked back around the desk, Hannibal purposely moved at such an angle so he couldn’t see. He wouldn’t give the gunman the satisfaction.
“Let’s get on with it, doctor. Come on, come on, come on.”
Hannibal unbuttoned his pants and made the gesture of pumping himself to a full hardness, although Warren did not need to know that little effort was actually required. Under his instruction, Hannibal pushed Will’s legs further apart to have his ass even more on display. Will’s breath hitched with the feeling of panic washing over him again. He propped his elbows propped on the desk to bury his face in clammy hands, bracing. He trusted Hannibal and stopped squirming. Lecter’s length was only inches, fingertips away from him, but Will knew the taller man was as merciful as he could be in this situation. He hadn’t broken a promise yet.
Hannibal gave Will little time to panic before guiding himself between his legs. He leaned into him, cautiously, one hand gripping his shoulder for leverage while the other steered his dick into Will. The brunet tensed, pale shoulders shook slightly and the scents of sweat and musk overpowered Hannibal’s senses as he pressed close to Will’s back. He never linked such masculine aromas with sex before, not before Will. How common that phrase was now. He thought he understood many things before Will.
Hannibal liked to think he knew almost everything worthwhile about Will Graham there was to know, but he wasn’t equipped for the sound the male made when the tip of his length forced itself inside the fluttering entrance. A deep rumble morphed into a groan that sent rolls of heat over the backs of Hannibal’s thighs and up to his neck. Even if Warren commanded him to go slow, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. The grip upon Will’s shoulder hardened enough to bruise and he thrusted into him, savoring the sharp intake of breath the shorter male made, as if Hannibal knocked the air out of his lungs. He soothed the young agent with soft shushes, massaging his lower back to compel him to relax. “Shh…Will, I have you.”
“Is he well endowed?” Warren asked breathless.
Will ignored him, focusing only on the pain he felt radiating throughout his entire body. He was doing a good job until; “Is he big, Will? Answer me.”
“Y-yes,” he fumed as Hannibal continued his bucks into him. Will tried to reduce his pathetic sounds; he didn’t want to make Dr. Lecter feel any worse than what he already was. Damn everything; himself, the office, that damn gun. Damn Rick-fucking-Warren. This couldn’t be happening with Dr. Lecter, Hannibal of all people. Graham didn’t have many friends, but out of the ones he came to possess, Dr. Lecter was the only person he began to feel comfortable with. Formed an actual friendship with; eye-contact and smiles, sharing meals together. Maybe Will wasn’t meant to have anything but his dogs. Maybe this is what happened when he hoped for too much.
“Does your doctor feel good? William? Is he ripping you up?”
Graham shook his head- not as an answer, but because he just didn’t want Warren’s commentary. The physical pain was torture enough. Maybe if he was difficult, the man would just let him be.
“Does he feel. Good.” Warren’s voice was suddenly close to Will, spit flying into his ear.
“Yes!”
“Then tell the good doctor, Will. Tell him, tell him.”
“You…” Will took a breath before forcing out the words, “You feel good, Dr. Lecter.”
“There you go, Will. There. You. Go.”
Hannibal had a series of relatively normal relationships in his past. Fleeting relations with now-nameless women, and the occasional man, when it was opportune and in his advantage. But Hannibal could undeniably say he fucked Will harder than anyone he fucked in his entire life. Rougher, more brutal, than what he normally allowed himself. He didn’t maintain his self-discipline, unlike those times with Alana or any other girl he tumbled with in some dark room. This was Will. His Will Graham. All flesh and in the present, no mind-altering drugs or comatose states. With ruffled hair, Hannibal closed his eyes. He did this not from what the horrible madman was making him do to poor Will, but to concentrate better on the texture of Will from the inside. It was a maddeningly glorious sensation.
Will was also louder than past lovers as well, as he emphasized each of Lecter’s thrusts with a whine. Every whimper and moan motivated Hannibal even more. He brought himself back into the moment eventually, and tried to go a smidgen slower toward the end. He wanted Will to believe he was still reluctant, still trying to fight back and wanting Will to be able to sit down without wincing for a week. But to his content, Warren gritted out harder, doctor, fucking harder and so he slammed Will so hard his desk scooted inches back. The massages continued too, as though Hannibal was trying to calm a skittish dog. Will tried to render his body malleable so the invasion would hurt less, but deemed it too difficult. It was still dreadfully painful, Hannibal knew, and Will grunted and groaned. Probably trying to maintain as little dignity as he tried to not scream or protest.
“Come on, doctor. Yeah, I said you both finish. Didn’t I? I think I did. Fuck him. Fuck him and use him and finish him.”
Hannibal didn’t acknowledge the man’s lewd authority with words or even a sideways glance, instead he simply reached between Will’s spread legs.
Graham’s cock twitched unforgiving in those long fingers, with a thumb that teased and flicked over his reddened tip.
“Holy- haaah…Fuck!” Will cursed glaringly.
“Getting the picture only now, Will?” Warren laughed.
Hannibal felt Will’s body tense for an entirely different reason now, and he lifted his eyebrows. Will began to respond to his touches much sooner than he thought. Even his hips began to buck on their own accord. The pained whine that erupted from the agent’s throat told him he felt horrifyingly ashamed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now, Will. Dr. Lecter, you deserve some kind of award for your efforts. Will, come on, show the doctor your pretty face. Come on, now. I don’t want your best friend to miss out on your O-face. Show the good doctor his effort has not been in vain.”
Hannibal continued to fist Graham’s dick and he eagerly awaited the moment where Will would begin to turn his head. He really wouldn’t have minded Warren forcing Graham to look his way by tugging on those sweat-soaked locks, but beggars could not be choosers.
When Will ultimately turned his head to look behind him, Hannibal saw a pair of light, unblinking blue eyes, boring a drunk stare into his own. Embarrassment, shame, fear mixed with parted lips and crimson cheeks. Hannibal wasn’t sure what Will saw in his eyes. Regret and sorrow, probably. Not excitement or arousal.
Will immediately turned back around as tears formed in his eyes. A sob was chocked back. Hannibal’s firm hold on Will’s cock grew again. He fondled and teased until it became increasingly hard, then he began to fist it even faster. The friction was dry and Will cried out, his hands slammed into the hard wood. Within seconds his balls tightened and he spilled in Hannibal’s hand, shuddering and convulsing. Some of it splattered onto the desk.
All of it stopped after what seemed like an eternity to Will. The agent began to buck back on Hannibal’s member with purpose after he came, biting back the pain, and he shuttered, silent, around Hannibal when he finished. The taller male pulled out at the last remaining second. Although he desperately craved painting Will’s damp back with his come, he didn’t. That would be too much. As a substitute, he came into his own hand with a short exhale and closed eyes, climaxing quietly.
Will slumped against the desk; limp, tired, not caring how he looked or what Warren would do next. He had just been forced to do something he never wanted to think about again. His relationship with Dr. Lecter was over now. It took some time for both to catch their breath. Will was motionless as Hannibal gently lifted himself off of him and cleaned himself as best he could with his handkerchief. He buttoned his pants, eyeing Will, checking for bleeding. He seemed physically unharmed, no lasting or immediate injuries.
Tilting his head, Hannibal caught the sight of Will’s pale cheeks, glittered with tears.
Along the desk with overturned trinkets and disheveled papers, Will felt naked, dirty, used. His own release stained his hands and the area along his thighs. Following a few breathless minutes, Will lifted himself back up and turned around with careful movements. Hannibal envisioned Will limping around his lecture hall like that, walking with an ache as he spoke to students, to Jack at a crime scene. And Will would see Hannibal and both of them would know. Their relationship wouldn’t be the same after this.
As Will recovered using the desk as a crutch, Hannibal watched the tail end of Warren’s coat leave his office’s door. There would be phone calls to make. Local police and FBI alike. News media to alert the public. Hannibal turned to his first concern.
“I’m sorry.” Will said. Though he apologized, it was Hannibal’s actions that made the simple act of picking up his jacket a struggle.
The doctor helped him and noticed that Will had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. It stood out so harshly against the white of his skin. His handkerchief soiled, Hannibal used his sleeve to wipe the blood away. Will allowed the gesture with a long, slow breath.
Hannibal Lecter had fucked him. A crazed man forced his friend to rape him.
And now he was cleaning him up. This was Will's life now.
The other man took a step back, adjusting his sleeve. He lifted Will’s coat off the ground and while Will wrestled with the morality of the act they just committed, Dr. Lecter shuffled into his shoes. He approached the other male, handing him his jacket. “You apologize, but you were not the one holding the gun to our heads, Will.”
When their fingers grazed, Will took a step back with an odd swirl in his stomach. “We should call Jack.”
“Yes.” Hannibal gauged him closely. “We can explain that Warren had threatened us.”
After the fourth attempt to graph his belt along the carpet, Will gave up. “Yeah. Okay.” He watched as Hannibal slipped on his coat and fixed his tie. The onslaught of guilt, shame, even self-loathing never flooded his body. It never came. Instead, he looked at the doctor, scrutinizing him as though he was a mystic ball.
“Will?” Hannibal noticed the male’s pupils when they locked eyes. The moment they spent staring felt more intimate than when Hannibal had his dick inside him. Will didn‘t know whether to laugh or cry. “Are you alright?” He stared at Will as his eyes dropped to his mouth, then raised again. He could sense something happening inside Will, neurons connecting faster and faster until fireworks began to explode.
After a few beats, Will blinked. Whatever energy passed in those short seconds vanished like lightening, and suddenly Will could breathe again.