Will graham attends an appointment with his psychiatrist and friend doctor Hannibal Lector, little does he know he isn't the only one capable of having designs

Warnings include:-

sexual content, malexmale relationships, description of graphic violence

The Thirteenth Appointment

Will Graham sits rigid with tension on one of many chairs in his psychiatrist's waiting room. This is another of the 'little precautions' Jack has put forward in order to keep him 'sane'. He scoffs at the notion. Jack Crawford doesn't know or care that with every waking second he is plagued by the sickening images of murders, both from his and the murderers perspective.

Or if he does he simply doesn't bother to do anything about it, besides palming him off on a doctor that he had only ever heard of in his written works. No matter how renowned this doctor may be throughout the psychiatric profession, there are still high levels of scepticism in Will's mind as to the 'real power' of therapy. The idea of talking about an issue until you're blue in the face doesn't exactly cut it in his opinion.

It is their thirteenth appointment by his count, although appointment doesn't really sound right, it sounds too clinical, too impersonal. He decides conversation is a word better suited to describe these meet ups of theirs. If there is one thing that jack has done right in regards to setting up these sessions, it is choosing a psychiatrist that he gets on with, one that he likes, in fact he might even go as far to say he considers doctor Lector a friend.

His eyes are fixed on the twiddling of his thumbs, a nervous thing mostly, despite having visited the good doctor many a time something about the man still makes his heart beat slightly faster than necessary in his presence. He blinks, and behind his eyes his nightmares lay in wait; the lifeless body of Garret Jacob Hobbs is riddled with bullet holes, and he has a mesh of bloodied stag antlers protruding from his chest like the mangled branches of a tree.

The image changes to show a man who's vocal chords are presented clean and treated like that of a string instrument, Will reaches for his bow and begins to play. These are the horrors that flash like a grotesque slideshow though his mind, and they are the reason he is presently sat in doctor Lector's waiting room.

He flinches and opens his eyes with a start, the door to the office had opened moments ago without him noticing, and now he can feel the unnerving sensation of eyes trained on his face. A slight shudder goes through him as he looks up. The sleek, well dressed figure of Hannibal Lector leans with arms folded, against the door frame, watching him intently. Those eyes for a brief moment capture his own, and they are cold. His pulse jumps and he forces his gaze anywhere but the suited man in the doorway.

"Doctor lector" Will regards him with a shaky sigh, recovering from the initial surprise, "do you sneak up on all of your patients like that, or am I a special case?" He adds with a slight smile. Hannibal chuckles, "That you are. But I assure you, William, I was simply observing your condition, I apologise if my presence startled you." Hannibal responds in his usual polite manner, gesturing with a sweeping hand for his patient to enter.

Will nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, another one of his nervous actions, that Hannibal notes with an unseen and decidedly fond smile. Slowly standing, Will raises his hands over his head and stretches out his stiff muscles with a quiet groan, the lack of sleep has left his body a little more than against movement.

He doesn't see the way that Hannibal's eyes flit down to drink in the sight of exposed flesh at the waistband of his jeans, his gaze following the light trail of hair down from his bellybutton, where his red plaid shirt has ridden up his stomach. "Trouble sleeping?" Doctor Lector asks looking back up at an oblivious Will, who reaches down to grab his rucksack, haphazardly slinging it over his shoulder. "You could say that" he replies, raking a hand through his chocolate curls.

Will wonders how his attempt at catching a brief and precious few minutes of sleep will fair tonight, that is if he doesn't wake up on the freeway again. With a resigned sigh he makes a mental note to root around in the garage for that old sleeping bag, better than nothing right? He thinks to himself. "Are you coming in or would you prefer that we hold todays session in the waiting room?" The familiar voice brings him suddenly back to reality, "oh shit- sorry I kind of zoned out a bit there" he explains looking down at his feet sheepishly.

Hannibal shakes his head with an amused smile, "no need to apologise William, come, let us begin." he adjusts the hem of his silk waistcoat, and enters his office. Will follows. The room is spacious and decorated stylishly, a lot grander than Will is used to or usually cares for, but despite this he has come to like it here quite a bit.

Hannibal's office is one of the few places he can ever feel grounded, or anchored so to speak, as though for once he is safe from the prospect of floating adrift in a sea of mental horrors, with the frightening inability to differentiate between reality and nightmare. They take their usual seats in the wide, soft leather armchairs across from each other, in the centre of the room. Will let's his rucksack drop to the floor beside him with a small thud.

"So how is this case of yours going?" Hannibal offers after a drawn out silence, nodding to the bag which is full to bursting point with papers, particulars and crime scene photographs. The doctor's patience knows no bounds so it seems, as he accommodates another long period of quiet for his patient to think. Finally Will looks up to meet doctor Lector's dark eyes, before deciding, as his heart misses a beat, that the rug requires his absolute undivided attention.

"He's back" Will begins, his voice is hoarse and weak "the crime scenes I'm used to are pretty horrific, but this one... it felt like an expedition of sorts, like he was showing off. The most recent one, an um... 'Human pincushion' as Jack so eloquently put it, was definitely his work." Will shudders in his seat, he can feel the stag breathing down his neck, he swallows hard and tries to focus on what is real. "I feel like he's showing us that... That he knows we're looking for him, like he is letting us know that he's watching us." He breathes out a shaky breath with eyes wide and fearful, and Hannibal licks his lips.

Will blinks back the image of the scene that scratches at the walls of his consciousness, demanding acknowledgement, driving him to utter distraction. "...And so this, 'pincushion' incident, how did you know that it was him you are dealing with?" Hannibal inquires in a professional tone, coaxing from Will the details of his own criminal act, wanting to hear each syllable of understanding fall so deliciously from his eideteker's lips.

With Hannibal's voice bringing him back from his suffocating thoughts, Will relaxes into his chair. Despite the highly uncomfortable nature of the conversation he cannot help but feel better, at least to a certain extent, around the calm aura of his friendly psychiatrist. "It was the preservation of vital organs, and then the removal of said vital organs, which he does with almost every victim." He answers.

"But more than anything, it was also the fact that he treated the victim with utter disgust. This murderer thought that the victim was a pig, that they deserved no respect in life or in death." Will adds, making brief eye contact with Hannibal as he does so. He doesn't see the perverse excitement that dances behind those deep brown eyes of his.

"The Chesapeake ripper has a distinct style of ripping" Will continues, "He humiliates, he dominates, he demands complete respect and he will not tolerate anything less, the ripper always gets what he wants even if that means forcefully taking it." The statement hangs in an atmosphere of quiet that follows. He is unaware of the greater significance of the words he had just uttered.

Hannibal makes a small sound of consideration, breaking the silence once again, and absent mindedly bridging his slender fingers in his lap, "you have quite the gift, William, but I can see that it bears such a great burden upon you" he says thoughtfully, Will nods, looking down at the rug once more, but says nothing.

Watching the man opposite him, Hannibal greedily takes in every little detail that makes him so very Will. Such as the sculpted jaw lightly dusted in stubble, framing such a perfect mouth, so often downturned in a worried frown. Such emotion, such empathy, oh his beautiful will. The sudden urge to trace the contours of his wind chaffed throat with his tongue almost consumes him, forcing the watchful doctor to compose himself, 'be patient' he reminds himself sternly.

His observant reverie is broken as a soft yawn forces its way from Will's mouth, who looks up at the psychiatrist, cringing in embarrassment. With a smirk Hannibal knows he has the opportunity he had been awaiting. "You are tired Will, I insist that you sleep here tonight, perhaps a change of scenery may help with your nightmares." He suggests soothingly.

Will looks up, trying his best not to appear overly enthusiastic, with something like hope in his bleary eyes. "It wouldn't be too much trouble? But what about the dogs and-" he is cut off by Hannibal's reassuring tone, "they will be perfectly fine for one night, it is your health, and not the canines, that I am concerned about William, it would be my pleasure."

Will smiles gratefully at the floor "Thank you doctor Lector" he says, "although you may have to lock me in, given my condition that is." he adds with a degree of seriousness to his voice, it having only just occurring to him he had agreed to sleep in an office on his own at night. With his tendency to sleepwalk that would be an opportune situation for disaster to strike.

Something tugs pleasantly within Hannibal's loins at the thought of having Will under lock and key, with no escape and completely at his mercy. "There is no need, I will be here to watch over you" he assures him, noting the look of surprise on his patients face, with a chuckle. Before Will has time to protest, Hannibal stands, holding out a hand to help him from his own seat, which he politely takes with slightly shaking fingers.

Hannibal's hand is warm against his own, and for the brief moment it touches him, his skin tingles, appreciative of human contact after so long without it. He irritably nibbles at the inside of his lip and tries to focus on something other than how nice that felt. "Come William, you must eat now, it is the end of your hour but not quite the end of our session, I wish to offer you therapy in the form of company and good food." Hannibal declares, placing a firm hand on the small of Will's back before guiding him into the kitchenette in the next room.

Seated at the small wooden table in the kitchenette, Will watches fascinated as Hannibal lays out a culinary multitude of dishes on paper plates, all bright and vibrantly coloured, peculiar in their presentation and with names he can't properly pronounce.

Hannibal looks like an entirely different man when cooking, he thinks to himself. With sleeves rolled up above the elbow to reveal muscular forearms, blazer removed to display the shift of taught muscle against his white shirt fabric and blonde hair lightly tousled, he almost looks less the professional psychiatrist and more of an artist engrossed in his work.

Hannibal sits across from Will with an expectant smile "bone appetite" he jovially announces with a flourish before they begin. Will has no idea where to start, so after brief consideration he follows Hannibal's lead, pursuing his choices around the table, trying odd French sauces and something with German sausage in it. Everything is absolutely wonderful.

Dessert is served, strawberries and chocolate sauce. "I hope you like strawberries as I have prepared plenty, I got them today at a farmers market." Hannibal mentions conversationally, subtly observing as Will takes the first bite of the juicy fruit, his tongue darting out to catch the trickle of juice that bleeds from the corner of his mouth, and inspiration strikes.

"Here, you must try it with the chocolate" Hannibal insists, dipping a large berry into the pot of sauce, and holding it up for a very awkward Will, who simply stares at the fruit as though it were an enigma. "Aren't you going to bite it?" Hannibal asks with a chuckle, an amused smile pulling his mouth up at the corners at his companions timid display.

With a resigned sigh Will nods, and leans in, reluctantly opening his mouth around the strawberry and biting down on the succulent flesh. With his lips closing around it, he hums in delight at the delicious combination of flavours, momentarily forgetting the extremely suggestive nature of it all. Hannibal almost cannot contain himself as he watches Will take the rest of the strawberry into his mouth, pulling away at last with a slight slurping sound, a faint blush barely visible on his skin.

Will is most certainly embarrassed, but it seems that Hannibal likes it that way. With a predatory smirk, Hannibal notices a spot of the chocolate sauce at the very corner of Will's mouth, and wordlessly reaches across the table to swipe It onto his finger. "What did you just do to my face?" Will blurts out, nervously reaching up to touch the lightly stubbly spot where the sauce used to be.

Hannibal presents Will with a view of the end of his finger, before bringing it to his smiling lips, and sliding it between them with an appreciative sound. "You had some sauce on your face, I thought that I would take care of it for you" he explains as though it were perfectly simple. Perfectly innocent. "Oh" Will laughs awkwardly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he can feel the redness creeping up his neck and he hopes to god that Hannibal doesn't notice.

He does.

When the meal is over, Hannibal invites Will to sit with him in order to discuss his condition in a less professional manner. He nods and politely takes a seat where he had sat prior to dinner, shuffling into a more comfortable position on the leather chair. He doesn't see how curious eyes drink in each small movement with intent. "So William, I have been thinking" The psychiatrist begins casually, calm as a hunter with crosshairs locked on his prize. "You are very alone, are you not?"

There is a kind of rawness to the question that takes Will completely off guard, and it seems the only thing he can do in such a situation is to be painfully honest, something he is rarely even to himself. "yes, horribly so." Sharing his life with a dozen dogs used to be enough, but recently the nights have seemed longer, darker, colder as though missing the warmth of body heat beside his sleeping form. It is not unusual for Will to become lost in his own thoughts even when being spoken to, this was one of those times.

"you must have an outlet, someone to lean on through this rough time. " Wills ears prick up at this snapping his attention back to the here and now, hoping his psychiatrist isn't about to make things inexpressibly awkward he nods and listens to what Hannibal has to say.

"It seems as though you and Alana are very close..." Hannibal trails off, a spike of jealousy momentarily running him through like a blade, though his smile does not falter, he will soon have what he hungers for he reassures himself. Will averts his gaze, he had to bring her up didn't he? "I'm sure there is someone you can turn to" Hannibal adds with a little more implication than he would usually allow.

Will's lips curl up into a smirk at this, as if to say 'yeah right, okay lets pretend that I'm not a total loser with absolutely no allure for a second'. Hannibal notes this with an almost inaudible sigh, "if only you could see how very desirable you are" he mutters quietly, Will is far too busy examining the arm of the chair to notice. "Do not think so little of yourself, William" Hannibal scolds, and Will is a little surprised that he actually picked up on that.

"Oh?" Will asks looking up to meet Hannibal's unblinking stare, behind thick rimmed glasses. Hannibal simply smiles and nods, "there are many who admire you, both mentally and... physically." he murmurs, his voice dripping with suggestion at the last word. With face burning and trousers suddenly a little too tight, Will wonders where the hell that came from. Is my psychiatrist hitting on me? He asks himself in disbelief.

"uh... Really?" He blurts, his brain unable to string together any suitable sentences in this rapidly more awkward situation, and he instantly kicks himself for it. Something very uncharacteristic spreads across Hannibal's face, a grin, wide and teeth baring, as he leans forward ever so slightly in his chair. "Really" He replies in a low, almost intimate voice.

Will thinks to himself that in this moment doctor Lector resembles a ravenous predator, sleek and elegantly poised to strike its vulnerable prey, but, he thinks, in embracing death that humble prey must witness such macabre grace. He clutches at the arms of his chair as though they are the only port in a storm, focusing on his breathing, inhale, exhale, repeat. He can't understand why Doctor Lector is suddenly so warm where before he was practically an ice sculpture, unfeeling and stoic. He considers the possibility that he is sleeping and having some kind of disturbing dream.

Hannibal allows his gaze to drag down to his increasingly nervous patient's lips, they are chapped and full, and he imagines they will feel delightfully rough and warm against his. He longs to bite down on the plump flesh just hard enough to draw a little of Will's delectable lifeblood, eliciting desperate moans between every ragged breath. With a slow smile he decides that is exactly what he will do.

When he comes back to himself, he registers the sight before him with a wonderful sense of victory, his patient sits rigid in his chair, face flushed and breath short, clearly reacting the way Lector had designed. Will shuffles awkwardly in the leather chair opposite to Hannibal's. He can feel the doctor's eyes burning into his skin as they examine him, calm pools of dark iris that seem to hold something dangerous behind them. His own gaze flits nervously from the floor, to the curtains, to Hannibal's Italian leather shoes.

"William, is something the matter?" Comes the rich and maddeningly sensual voice of his psychiatrist. He wonders how speech works, as he finds himself in the awkward situation of forgetting. Will dares not look up. Barely managing to keep his cool he finally utters a small voiced "no, of course not"

Silence.

"You seem a little nervous"

Will starts suddenly, the sound of Hannibal's voice had been much closer this time, too close for comfort. As he slowly raises his head, he comes nose to nose with his psychiatrist, who's eyes bore into his with an intensity that renders him speechless once more. "How about I take care of those pesky little nerves of yours, hmm?" as he speaks his lips brush tantalisingly against Will's, eliciting a surprised whimper from the profiler.

Everything about this is wrong Will screams within himself, he needs to get out, get out! But it is much too late. Hannibal leans in with a sudden ferocity, his restraint well and truly spent, and claims Will's lips in a rough embrace. He is starving for it, as though Will were a mirage in the desert about to fade away, and Will cannot for the life of him seem to stop the needy groan that tears through him when Hannibal deepens the kiss.

Warm hands snake their way around Will's waist, leaving delicious trails of fire in their wake, and firmly they tighten their grasp around him. He gasps open mouthed against Hannibal's, who gladly takes advantage, grazing his tongue across a kiss-swollen bottom lip and sliding it inside to claim new territory. With strong arms Will is lifted from the chair, pulled onto Hannibal's waiting lap, and he finds himself straddling the doctors waist in the large leather chair, their hardening erections pressing together with maddening pressure.

Thoughts have lost all meaning as Hannibal ever so slightly rolls his hips up against his own, short bursts of addictive pleasure burn like slow fire between Will's thighs as he thrusts down against him, rutting in no particular fashion and mewling into his mouth. "Will..." Hannibal mumbles against his lips, "oh Will..." He chants like worship with every thrust of his hips, nibbling at the other man's lips.

Hannibal's hands slide down the small of Will's back to rest firmly at his ass, grabbing greedy handfuls that sends delectable shivers down the profiler's spine. The kiss is finally broken, and foreheads meet, short hot breaths mingling in the now all too hot air. "Doctor lector-" Will is cut off by a pair of lips at his ear, "no." he purrs, "Hannibal... You will call me by my christian name, I think that we are past formalities, are we not?" He chuckles softly, before nipping the lobe of Wills ear between his teeth lightly.

"Hannibal..." Will says experimentally, his voice rough with need. Lector grinds against him with a quiet moan, pressing his lips into the crook of Will's neck, "Again" he commands gruffly "Say my name again". Will meets his heady gaze, and he is awash with arousal upon seeing those usually cold eyes now alight. "Hannibal" he murmurs, confidence growing. Hannibal's teeth nip at the stubble dusted skin of Will's neck, "good boy, remember the name that you will be screaming" he drawls, voice reverberating against Will's throat.

With a shakey exhale Will leans his head back, feeling smooth fingers trail across skin as the buttons of his plaid shirt are opened one by one. The shirt falls redundantly to the floor leaving toned tan flesh exposed, Hannibal makes a small sound in the back of his throat in appreciation, placing a hand flat against the bare chest. Without warning Will finds himself speeding backwards to meet the hard and unforgiving floor of the office, propping himself up on his elbows.

Then Hannibal is upon him, hands firmly holding his lithe waist as he leans in to hungrily capture his parted lips. Breaking away breathlessly, The good doctor assesses his work trailing his eyes from the angry purpling bitemarks on Will's neck to those lidded heady eyes that refuse to meet his own. He cannot wait any longer, patience is a virtue but Will Graham is a delicacy.

Hannibal grasps Will's hips and flips him over with ease, pulling him up onto his knees, Will supports hismelf with shaking arms that threaten to give way. "Doctor lector wa-" Will is cut off abruptly by a warm hand cupping his erection through the fabric of his jeans so tightly it almost hurts. Hot breath ghosts over his ear sending delicious shudders though him. A tongue flicks at the shell idly,"I thought I told you to address me by my name" Hannibal hisses, digging his nails into the flesh of Will's hips in warning, causing him to arch his back with a cry.

Peppering his back with kisses, Hannibal begins to work on the zipper of Will's jeans, unfastening them with ease and yanking them down along with boxer shorts in one swift tug. "Hannibal" Will says whines impatiently. "shhh..." Lector coos soothingly, taking a hold of his erection.

"please" Will whispers through gritted teeth, rocking his hips slightly into the psychiatrist fist, "please, okay". The grip around his cock tightens marginalily, "okay, what?" Hannibal drawls, needing to hear those words tumble from those perfect lips. "Please, just hurry up and fuck me"

"With pleasure" Hannibal growls, ever the gentleman even in the most carnal of situations. Unzipping his trousers he removes himself from the confines of the material, wincing as the cool air envelopes him. Taking a small bottle of lube from his tailored waistcoat pocket and applying a generous squirt to his aching erection, he lines himself up with Will's entrance. "you won't need preparation, I can tell that you've done this before" he states, feeling a hint of jealousy that someone had been with Will before him. "In college yeah... How did you know?"

Hannibal smirks, "I am a doctor, and I am well acquainted with anatomy. I am also a psychatrist, and I am excellent at reading people." he murmurs distractedly, pressing himself in slightly. "Get ready" with a drawn out grunt he pushes in, nails digging into Will's hips hard enough to draw blood. Hannibal pulls out equally slow, teasing, before slamming forward eliciting a high keening sound from the profiler. The pace is fast and hard, Hannibal pumps Will's shaft in time overwhelming the smaller man and reducing him to incoherent babbling and strangled little sounds.

"Does that feel good my little eideteker?" Hannibal whispers hoarsely with lips against Will's ear, punctuated by a chain of grunts and curses in his native tongue. "yes" Will groans in response. "Hannibal" he continues, feeling climax looming, "Hannibal I-I'm going to come".

The next thrust hits against his prostate and Will loudly lets Hannibal know about it, with increased force he pounds into that sweet spot repeatedly coaxing sound after delightful sound from his vocal chords. Will fees his legs buckle beneath him as he comes with a strangled cry, white hot pleasure filling out his already heightened senses. Tight rings of muscle clench around his cock as Will hits the climax, bringing Hannibal over the edge hard, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him as he calls out Will's name.

The pair collapse in a rather naked heap on the office floor, the smooth tiles temperature refreshingly cooler than their raised body heats. They lay panting for several minutes in a comfortable silence neither man feeling it necessary to shatter the delicate nature of this moment.

please review!

oh and please excuse any typos because its two am and I'm a lazy butt