Archive of Our Own

It was a rare thing, Alana inviting him to dinner. Hannibal was not often invited out for a meal—usually his acquaintances were clamoring for him to cook a dinner for them. So the vaguely hopeful look on her face and the mention of a very well-run local restaurant (Le Bouchon) had sparked his interest.

"I'm worried about Will," she was saying. "The last time I saw him, he was unravelling fast. Now he's on some kind of retreat, but he won't say where."

"Perhaps he's just relaxing at home for a few days," Hannibal suggested, walking around his desk with a book to reshelve. She'd caught him just at the end of his workday, when a bit of tidying was all that stood between him and his trip home.

"No, he isn't, I..." She hesitated, then admitted, "I checked. I drove out and knocked on his door. The dogs aren't even there. He really did go someplace."

Hannibal returned from the bookshelf, his voice calm as he suggested, "Don't you think if he was having some kind of episode, he would simply have disappeared? The very fact that he called to let Jack know he would be gone, arranged for his classes to be taught in his absence... points to a clear mind."

"Maybe. But I'd like to talk this out a little more, and you're the one who spends the most time with him, after Jack."

Hannibal nodded and schooled his features into one of soft regret. It wasn't entirely false—he did feel some regret at missing the chance to share a meal with Alana, although he certainly would have suggested they dine at his home instead. "I'm afraid I can't this evening. I have a prior engagement. Perhaps it would set your mind at ease to call Will? Leave him a message and see if he returns it in a day or two. I'm sure he must have taken his phone with him, wherever he is."

Alana let out a small sigh and seemed to be silently counseling herself. "I did leave a message, but it was just this morning. You're right, it's probably not time to worry yet. I'm overreacting."

"Your concern shows what a good friend he has in you." Hannibal stepped close and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. The smell of her perfume was pleasant, softly sweet and woodsy, and he felt the distinct impulse to lean down and press his nose against her neck, to lick the warm skin there and feel her heartbeat under his tongue. His face retained his calm smile and warm, comforting gaze. "He's lucky to have you on his side. Let's give it another day, and if you still haven't heard from him, we can discuss what to do then."

She nodded, and Hannibal caught the minute flush of color that entered her cheeks at his proximity. "Thank you. I'm sorry I kept you from your plans." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "I hope I haven't made you late."

"Not at all." Hannibal retrieved her coat and held it out for her to slip into. "If I leave now, I'll be right on time. May I walk you to the parking lot? It's quite dark this time of night and you'll be safer in my company."

***

Hannibal arrived home just past the stroke of six. The first thing he noticed upon stepping inside the apartment was the temperature. It was distinctly chillier than he'd been expecting, at least three or four degrees below what would have been comfortable. The second thing he noticed was the scratch marks on the inside of the door. They weren't deep, but the wood was quite clearly marked. It looked as though a little dog had been pawing at it, but the marks were much too high for any dog.

He removed his coat and walked back through the apartment, glancing in several rooms before entering the study. Will sat at the desk, surrounded by pictures of bloody corpses and severed body parts, paperwork forming several substantive piles beneath them. He wore jeans, socks, and a soft gray sweater, his brow furrowed in concentration beneath disheveled hair.

It took him a moment to realize Hannibal was there, then he looked up with startled guilt. "Hi."

"Hello. You're working?"

Will glanced back at the pictures and shrugged, nodding. "I had to do something. I was starting to feel restless."

Hannibal stepped over to the desk and looked closer at the pictures. They documented the detritus of one of the FBI's current cases, a rather talented young man (Hannibal could tell he was young, from the raw, exuberant quality of his work) who had a penchant for fingers. In particular he liked to remove them from living victims and make them watch while he performed various acts on them with their own digits.

"I told you to read a book if you were bored."

Will shook his head, his expression slightly pained. "I tried that. It wasn't... none of them held my interest. I kept getting lost in thought and forgetting what I was reading about. Anyway, most of your books are about cooking. It's not really my area."

"I see. We'll have to find you something to occupy your mind tomorrow, then. For now, I'd like you to put all of this away." Hannibal opened the desk drawer beside Will's elbow and gestured for him to fill it with the photos and paperwork. Will paused for just a moment, then began to comply, stacking them together and arranging them in the drawer.

"You put clothes on," Hannibal observed, when Will had cleared the desk.

"It got cold." Will couldn't meet his eyes now.

"I told you to turn the temperature up if you were cold."

"I know, but I thought it would be less expensive for you if I just put on some clothes. I was going to take them off before you got home, I just... lost track of time."

"Will." Hannibal put two fingers around Will's chin, tipping his head up gently so he was staring up at Hannibal. "It's not your job to worry about my heating bill. It's my job to give your mind a rest. That's why you're here, remember?"

Will made a noise of acquiescence, and his head moved like he wanted to nod, but couldn't when Hannibal was holding it in place.

"Good. Stand up, please." Hannibal released him and waited as Will stood. He looked him over, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the slight shake in his hands, the way his shoulders slumped down like he was carrying a great weight.

"Take off your clothes," he said softly, to make this easier on Will. It had been difficult enough this morning, and Will looked significantly more rattled now. He watched as Will struggled with himself, looked at Hannibal and then back at his own body, put his hands on the hem of his sweater, and finally forced himself to remove it.

"Good. Now the jeans," Hannibal prompted him, taking the sweater and folding it. Will bit his lips but complied with this as well, pulling them down over his hips and stepping out of the legs. "The rest of it," Hannibal murmured, and watched as Will removed his underwear and socks. His hands moved instantly to cover himself, stopping halfway there through extreme force of will, then hovered helplessly around his thighs.

"Very good, Will." Hannibal reached out to stroke the hair around his ear, and Will seemed to relax a little. "Now take these into the bedroom and come join me in the kitchen, while I make us dinner." He handed back over a stack of neatly folded clothes, and waited for Will to disappear down the hallway before he walked back into the kitchen.

He wanted a simple meal tonight, something that wouldn't take much of his concentration away from Will, so he opted for a few slices of pan-fried cheek with mushrooms and a beurre blanc sauce. The sauce's base was just beginning to boil when Will appeared in the kitchen, looking at little fresher. Hannibal could see that he'd taken the opportunity for privacy to shave and brush his teeth. It was a nice gesture, if not strictly compliant with the rules they'd agreed upon.

"On your knees," Hannibal instructed tonelessly, indicating the floor beside him. Will moved to the spot and got down onto the tile flooring, a sharp intake of breath the only indication of the floor's cold surface against his skin.

Hannibal cooked in silence for a minute, waiting until the sauce was beginning to reduce nicely, then plucked two bowls out of the cupboard. He retrieved a bag of peapods from the fridge and emptied it into one bowl, then placed them both on the floor in front of Will. "Shuck these into the other bowl. We're going to have a light salad with our meal."

Will said nothing, but got to work immediately. From the way his shoulders lowered, he seemed calmer with a job to do, something requiring nimble fingers and small, repetitive movements.

When the cheek was ready, Hannibal cut off a small piece and tested it, chewing thoughtfully. Then he cut off another piece and took it in his fingers.

"Will." Will looked up and saw the piece of meat held out for him. His eyes widened for a moment, then he opened his mouth obediently. Hannibal fed him and watched with pleasure as Will chewed, swallowed, and smiled.

"It's good."

Hannibal nodded and turned back to the stove, pouring the sauce into a serving container. He could fit nearly all of it in the delicate pitcher, but a few drops remained. On impulse, he dipped his finger into the pan, coating it with sauce, and held it out for Will, repeating his name.

Will took a second longer to decide this time, then seemed to settle some argument with himself and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Hannibal's finger and licking the sauce off. When he'd removed it all, Hannibal slid his finger out and gently traced the outline of Will's mouth. "Good boy." There was a slight twitch between Will's legs, which Hannibal courteously ignored.

He allowed Will to get to his feet and help carry their plates into the dining room. Will sat at the table to eat, something that would change eventually, but Hannibal was well versed in the art of restraint.

Over dinner, he asked Will to tell him about his day. He was curious to know what Will had done with his time. He'd almost considered installing surveillance for his own consumption at the office, but decided against it at the last moment.

Will shook his head. "Not much. I took a shower after you left... sat around for a while... I tried to read a few different books, but it was hard to concentrate. Then I got hungry and cold, so I put some clothes on and ate the lunch you left for me."

"When did you start working?"

"I think... sometime in the afternoon."

"And when did you have an encounter with the front door?"

Will turned red and sat his fork down, dropping his gaze to his lap. "I'm sorry about that."

Hannibal stood to retrieve the wine flagon. "You don't need to be sorry. Just tell me what happened." He sat back down and refilled both of their glasses.

"I'm not... I'm not sure." Will's voice had dropped to a whisper and he reached forward gratefully to take a deep drink of wine. "I don't think I even knew I'd done it until I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I lost time, but I don't remember waking up anywhere different, shifting from one thing to another. I was just working and then I was... working again." He looked up at Hannibal, his eyes full of fear. "If I'm losing myself and I don't even know it's happening now, isn't that it? The last step before I'm..."

Hannibal got back to his feet and walked over to take Will's arm, pulling gently until Will stood up. He wrapped his arms around Will, his fingers brushing through Will's hair. "It's not the last step of anything. We thought you might lose time—that's why the door was locked from the outside, remember? You're on unsteady ground, Will, but you're far from a lost cause." Will let out a choked breath against his chest.

"Tomorrow I'll give you a job to do: something that will engage your mind. And you'll follow my rules exactly. I'm going to help you, Will, but it won't happen all at once. It's a process."

Will made a noise of agreement, his face still buried in the silk of Hannibal's vest and tie.

"You need stability to recover. Are you still willing to let me take control, until you're able to control yourself again?"

"Yes." The answer came out in a quick rush. "Please."

"Then tonight you need to call Alana."

Will stepped back quickly, as though Hannibal had burned him. "Alana? Why? I thought you said while I was here, I shouldn't have contact with anyone else."

"It looks like a small exception will have to be made. She's worried about you. Tonight I want you to call her and tell her that you're fine, just having some time to yourself and away from the Bureau."

Will looked uneasy. "I don't know if I can just... lie to her."

"Is it a lie?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Well. I'm assuming you don't want me to tell her about... this," Will said uncertainly.

"I think she might reach the wrong conclusion about this form of treatment, so no, I'd advise against it. But it wouldn't be a lie to leave out those details. If she asks you about your weekend on a Monday, are you lying if you don't give her a thorough catalog of your activities on Saturday and Sunday?"

"No..." Will thought this over. "I guess not."

"Then you'll call her and tell her that you're fine and you'll be back soon. No more, no less." Hannibal paused. "Would it be easier if it was an order?"

"I—" Will hesitated, then sighed and shook his head. "No, it's fine. Should I do it now?"

"If you're finished with your meal, that's fine. Use the phone in the study."

Hannibal carried their plates into the kitchen as Will headed off to make the call. The phone in the kitchen could be set to mute the receiver, so as soon as a light on the phone blinked on, he lifted the handset and muted it, then put the call on speaker while he washed the dishes. It was a short conversation, with Alana sounding concerned and Will fumbling around the details of his location. It was awkward, but not unusually so for Will, and finally Alana sounded relieved that he was at least alive and planned on returning soon.

Hannibal replaced the handset when the call was finished, but saw the light go back on almost immediately, indicating a second call. He picked up the handset a second time, then smiled to himself as he listened to Will speaking to the kennel where his dogs were staying. When he'd been assured that each of them were doing fine and playing happily with the other dogs, he ended the second call and came back into the kitchen, arriving just a moment after Hannibal had hung up himself.

Will looked relieved and a bit surprised. "She really was worried."

"Yes." Hannibal dried his hands on a kitchen towel and then refolded it, replacing it on the counter. "Did you reassure her?"

Will nodded. "I think everything's fine now. With Alana, at least."

"Good. Are you ready to begin our session for tonight?"

It took a moment for Will to respond, but just as before, he quietly gave in. "Yes. Will it hurt?"

"Yes."

"Okay." With that question answered, Will seemed content to let Hannibal take the reigns. Hannibal put a hand on the back of his neck and led him through the apartment, back to his own bedroom. The room was awash in dark mahogany and red fabric, the four poster bed immaculately made. He'd watched Will do it himself this morning, instructing him on how to make the corners sharp and smooth out the wrinkles. It was obvious that Will did not often make his own bed, if at all.

"Bend over, hands on the bed." Hannibal did not wait to see if Will complied, heading over instead to retrieve his kit from the dresser. When he turned around, Will had moved into position and was trembling a little.

He put the kit on the mattress and leaned down beside him, stroking a hand down Will's spine. "You're going to be very good for me." It wasn't a question. Will nodded. "Spread your legs out more." Will complied.

"Now, you had a little accident last night, didn't you?" Will blushed and nodded again. It might have been a mistake to start on the first night, Hannibal acknowledged this, but Will had been in a very bad way when he'd arrived. He'd needed something to bring him back to himself, to focus on pure sensation and not all the tricks his mind was trying to play on him. Still, Hannibal had perhaps underestimated how strongly he would respond to a relatively small amount of stimulus. He remembered the little puddle that Will had left on the sheet, his orgasm coming on so quickly and unexpectedly that they'd both been taken unawares.

He'd put a quick stop to that, however, after the first time. Tonight he planned on stopping the problem before it started. "We're going to use the same device you had on last night." Hannibal pulled it out from his kit, freshly sterilized from their clean-up session that morning. "You remember that it doesn't hurt, don't you? This doesn't cause any pain."

Will murmured yes, looking away, his cheeks still red. Hannibal nodded and started preparations. He held a small chastity belt, slim and unobtrusive, with a thick steel spiral that would go around Will. Inside the spiral was a slim, perfectly smooth length of metal, and it was this part that Hannibal coated liberally with lubrication. Then he crouched behind Will, reaching up between his legs and taking hold of him. With the fingers from one hand firmly squeezing the base of Will's cock, he started to slide the metal rod into the slit. Will gave a desperate gasp above him, but stayed perfectly still. It took another minute for Hannibal to work it all the way inside, and when he was finished, Will's cock was both impaled on a steel rod and encircled by a steel spiral, held quite firmly flaccid. A steel ring fit around the base and behind his balls, replacing Hannibal's tightly squeezing fingers. Any attempt at an erection in this device would become rapidly uncomfortable.

Hannibal stood and cinched the belt around Will's hips, then resumed stroking his back for a moment, murmuring that Will had done an excellent job and was being very good for him. Will's breathing had been harsh since Hannibal put the belt on him, but gradually it slowed and evened out.

"Are you ready to begin?" Hannibal asked in a low voice, pausing with his hand at the small of Will's back. Will nodded, apparently unable to speak. He'd gone intermittently nonverbal at a fairly early stage the night before, too.

Hannibal drew out his set of scalpels from the kit, spreading them out on the bed. He considered his choice of starting points for a moment, then made a decision and put a hand on the back of Will's head, pushing it down closer to the blanket. He ran the flat side of one of his blades around Will's left shoulder blade, letting him feel it first, then made a careful incision at its base, just above Will's ribs.

Will let out a strangled cry that sent a rush of dark pleasure through Hannibal. He bent over and licked at the wound, laving it with his tongue until it was no longer dripping. He didn't cut Will deeply, although he would have liked to. Will wasn't ready for that yet.

He cut again, a centimeter below the first incision, this one right above a bone, and Will moaned, shifting his hips. Hannibal glanced down and saw that the device was doing its job, squelching the valiant attempts of Will's cock to harden. He licked up the dribble of blood and cut again, to the left of Will's pectoral muscle. Lowering his left arm would probably be painful all day tomorrow. He enjoyed the thought of the pain reminding Will of the previous evening. It might be necessary to leave him in a chastity device, although one without a sounding rod.

He continued with the cuts, working his way down Will's left side, until he had a nice collection of a dozen red lines. Will had broken out in a cold sweat and had pressed his forehead against the bed. His legs kept trembling periodically, like they wanted to buckle. He was murmuring something, but it was hard to make out.

"What's that?" Hannibal threaded his fingers into Will's hair and turned his head to the side, firmly but not ungently.

"Please..." Will muttered. "Want to come."

"Will." Hannibal frowned. "That wouldn't be helpful for you. We discussed this."

"Please." Will turned desperate eyes up at Hannibal.

Hannibal considered it. He wanted to see Will suffer, and his desperation now was a thing of exquisite beauty: his eyes wild and glazed, his lips puffy from the way he'd worried them, his hands moving in a cat-like kneading motion against the blanket, pulling up futile handfuls of fabric as he fought for control that he could never achieve when Hannibal was in this room.

On the other hand, he was warming to the idea of leaving a chastity belt on him all day tomorrow, and he knew Will might try to fight him on it. Hannibal would get his way in the end, but he felt it might be better if Will had to pass the day knowing he'd done it to himself—that he'd bargained away the right to an erection during a moment of mindless desperation the night before.

"If I allow it, I'll need something in return." Will nodded frantically. Hannibal reached between his legs and fondled the steel contraption that encased his cock. "You'll be required to wear this all day tomorrow. I want complete control."

Will stilled for moment, then started to ask, "But how will I—"

"Without the rod," Hannibal assured him. "Just the outer part."

Will was quiet, thinking this over. Hannibal moved his hand and began gently tugging on Will's balls, drawing out little cries from him as the other man tried in vain to concentrate on his decision.

"Fine," Will ground out, his hips rolling unconsciously against the mattress. "Please. Just. Take it off."

"Very well. Remember this moment tomorrow, Will." Hannibal bent down and began to uncinch the belt. There was a padlock that came with it, and although it wasn't necessary when he was in the room, he knew he'd need to attach it tomorrow. Will couldn't be trusted yet to leave it alone without a lock.

The rod slid out smoothly and produced a guttural moan of relief from Will. His cock free, it began almost immediately to thicken and rise.

"Now, do you want the hand," Hannibal stroked Will's cock to illustrate, "or the blade?" He let go of Will and picked up a scalpel, pressing the sharp tip against one of his previous incisions. Will groaned loudly and shook his head, rubbing himself against the mattress.

"No, none of that." Hannibal tucked an arm around Will's waist and hauled him back, away from the edge of the bed. "I can stroke you or I can cut you, but not both. Pick."

"I... please, I..." Will sounded on the verge of losing his mind. "The... the blade," he said finally. "Please cut me."

Hannibal smiled. Will could please him most in these moments of abject need, when he allowed himself to ask for what he really wanted.

"Good boy. Then don't come until I tell you." If he was going to allow this, Hannibal still wanted to give the command for it. He reached up to grab Will's hair with more force than before, holding him tightly as he slid the blade across the spot where Will's side met the top of his hip. Will sucked in a deep breath, but otherwise gave no reaction. Hannibal licked up the blood and created a second, matching cut right above it. This time Will made a noise that sounded perilously close, and Hannibal could see him leaking onto the carpet. He'd have to make Will clean that later.

Instead of making a third cut, Hannibal now traced the scalpel over Will's back, lightly enough not to break any skin. Will shuddered, the noise of his panting filling the room.

"Are you ready to come for me, Will?" He'd half-expected to be planning a punishment by this point. Will sometimes surprised him with his ability to obey. It was deep-seated, a craving to give up control that Hannibal had seen in him the moment they'd met.

"Yes," came the whispered response. Will was pulling his head away from Hannibal's fingers, not in an attempt to escape, but rather to increase the sharp pain on his scalp.

Hannibal lifted the scalpel again and pressed it against Will's skin, above the two freshest cuts. "Then go ahead," he told him, dragging it down instead of sideways. He cut through both of the previous lines and opened them even more as he split a new expanse of skin. Will screamed, finally losing control and bucking forward hard, coming against the blanket and the carpet. Some of it splattered back onto him and mixed with the blood that was trailing down his left leg. In the next moment, Hannibal had to toss aside the scalpel and rise to catch Will as his legs gave out beneath him. He held Will's half-conscious body until his cock had finished spasming its release, then hoisted him fully up into his arms and carried him to the bathroom.

***

Will remained hazy for the next several hours, unfocused and passive as Hannibal cleaned him with warm, wet cloths and tended to his wounds. He didn't come out of it until they'd both been in bed for an hour and Hannibal was starting to feel a bit drowsy himself.

"Did I come?" he croaked.

"Yes." Hannibal turned and retrieved the bottle of water from the bedside table. "Can you sit up to drink some water?"

Will struggled up, gasping in pain as his left side stretched, and finally gave up halfway there.

"Close enough." Hannibal chuckled and handed him the bottle, watching closely to make sure Will had the strength to raise it and didn't choke.

When he'd had his fill, the first thing Will asked was, "Do I really have to wear that thing all day tomorrow?"

Hannibal smiled and took the bottle back, screwing on the cap before replacing it on the table. "Yes. But I said I'd give you something to keep you busy. Don't worry."

"Do you think I'll do better?" Will slid back down, curling up under the blanket.

"I think you're already doing better." Hannibal brushed some of the hair back from Will's face and allowed himself to move forward, against Will. He put an arm around him and brushed a hand against Will's bandaged cuts, savoring the jerk and hiss of pain that Will let out.

They lay in comfortable silence for a minute, until Will asked, in an almost-whisper, "Hannibal? Do you want me to—I mean, would you like to..."

Hannibal smiled against the pillow. "No, sweet boy. When I'm ready to take that from you, I'll let you know." Everything in its time. When that night came, he would have to lay down plastic. There was a limit to how much blood even Hannibal could swallow.

Will nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. His eyes closed and he unconsciously snuggled a little closer. A few minutes later, he was fast asleep.