If there is no apple one eats a little carrot
Notes: Thanks to Tsuyuri, my friend and beta for this OS.
"If there is no apple one eats a little carrot."
- Russian proverb
Will seriously wondered when he had fallen over to a parallel dimension. Yet it was the only one possible explanation, unless he had relapsed and all of this was a hallucination created by his twisted mind. Yes, it must have been a new encephalitis. If not, how to explain that Doctor Lecter was naked in front of him, in the middle of his office, with just a towel around his waist?
"Will! You are early," the hallucination said to him.
Will frowned without understanding, and then he looked at his watch and noted that it had stopped, probably since the evening before, without him noticing. The latter explained the former. He felt like a complete idiot.
"My watch is broken," he observed out loud.
"I see," Hannibal responded. "Give it to me, I know a very good watchmaker."
Of course he knows one, Will through, before opening the strap of the bracelet and handing it over to him, watching everywhere but him. Hannibal had to take two steps forward, because Will had not moved, and then the brunet smelled the musky fragrance of the psychiatrist's shower gel. Hannibal then walked to his desk to put the watch on it, and Will couldn't help but stare at his muscled back and follow with his eyes the motion of his hips, before looking away when the psychiatrist turned to him again.
"I think I'll take a walk and come back later," he said, already prepared to turn back.
"It is no use. I am not expecting anyone else. Now that you are here, we might as well start the session."
"Dressed like that?"
Hannibal gave him a look in which he could read: "of course not." And he felt even more like a fool. But the psychiatrist's answer completely disarmed him.
"Does that make you feel uncomfortable?"
He was playing with him. Will easily noticed this. As an illusionist who would have revealed his magic tricks, Hannibal's little manipulations were no longer of any effect on him, since he could really see him. And the profiler thought that to play his game was the best response.
"Absolutely not, and you?" He insolently replied, sitting in his usual armchair.
Hannibal froze in the middle of the room for a moment, before smirking, amused by the fake indifference of his friend. He seemed curious about which one of them would crack first, and sat, tightening the towel around his crossed legs.
"I do not have any problem with that at all."
Will always wondered if there were other rooms in the building.
"Do you take a shower before all our sessions?"
The question jumped out of his mouth before he thought about keeping it.
"Yes," Hannibal succinctly answered.
He doesn't even try to deny it, Will thought.
"May I ask you why?"
"Naturally."
There was a long, awkward silence, and the profiler lost patience.
"Why?" He snapped, exasperated.
"I like being fully prepared for all possible contingencies," the psychiatrist replied, getting an apple out of... Well... Of nowhere.
The ripe and red fruit simply appeared in his hand and juice dribbled down his chin when he crunched it. Will followed with his eyes the drop which trickled on Hannibal's slender neck and collar bone, before hurtling down his chest until it disappeared in the hairs. Only then, he realized what Hannibal had just said.
"What kind of contingencies could well require that you take a shower?"
"If, for example, you kneel down before me, with your delectable mouth open for me."
Will noisily gulped and licked his dry lips. Hannibal moved on his chair, as if he was unable to find a comfortable position.
"Maybe you should simply take off that towel," Will said.
"Maybe."
He got up and removed the terry cloth, before putting it on the back in his office chair. Then, he sat back opposite Will, entirely naked. The profiler didn't miss a thing.
"Maybe I also should kneel down in front of you, as you suggested."
In response, Hannibal spread his legs and moved his pelvis on the edge of his chair. Without really realizing what he was doing, Will got down on all fours on the floor, and moved towards the psychiatrist, keeping his eyes on him. He first kissed an inner thigh, then the groin, inhaled the masculine fragrance of his pubic hair, before pointing his tongue out and licking the pulsating vein on the proudly erect penis. A moan answered him and Will became more daring. He put the member in his mouth as much as he could, and when its head touched the back of his throat, he controlled his gag reflex. The flesh was hard and hot against his palate; he pressed his lips and started slowly to move back and forth, taking the base in his hand. His saliva dribbled down his chin and fingers, the skin slid against his tongue. He softly sucked up, speeding up the motion of his head, and a hand grabbed his curly brown hair. Having Hannibal Lecter in his mouth was addictive; he was in control at this precise moment.
Hannibal arched his back on the chair, moaned louder and came in the pleasant throat. Claws scratched Will's scalp. He looked up and met the scarlet glance of the Wendigo. He suffocated, moved back abruptly and fell backwards, falling and falling again in a bottomless pit.
…
Will woke up with a start, sweaty and breathless. Around the bed, the dogs were whining, worried. He caught his breath, grouched when he felt his boxer shorts sticking unpleasantly against his lower abdomen. Then he rejected the humid sheets and stood up, sighing, before going in the bathroom. Outside, the sun came up.
He turned on the tap of the sink and sprayed his sweaty face and neck, then took off his wet t-shirt and underwear, before entering the shower stall. The hot water beat against his skin, took the proof of his ashamed dream away and cleaned his body. He had this nightmare for the first time and didn't know what to think. He could almost remember the taste of Hannibal on his tongue and found himself obscene to being aroused just by thinking about that. He would never look Hannibal in the eyes again.
He had to do it, however, no later than the same evening, because he had a session with the psychiatrist. When Hannibal opened the door of his office, Will was relieved to see him dressed, before blaming himself, a second later, to feel a bit disappointed.
"Hello, Will."
"Hello, Doctor Lecter."
Both men sat down and the session started in a long silent.
"You avoid eye contact with me," Hannibal noticed immediately. "And you look tired. Did you have nightmares again?" He added in response to Will's silence.
And the profiler hated him for his magnificent intuition.
"Not exactly," he responded evasively.
Hannibal stared at him, waiting patiently for more details. Then, Will asked him a strange question.
"Is there a bathroom here?"
"Yes," the psychiatrist replied. "And all necessary amenities, because I spend long days in this place. Why the sudden interest in my office's arrangement?"
"Do you take a shower here sometimes?" Will continued, without answering.
Hannibal was puzzled by the question.
"What did you dream about, Will?"
"Absurd things."
"As is often the case. Subconscious expresses itself in a strange way. Just tell me and I could help you to see more clearly."
"Really, it's silly," Will insisted, embarrassed.
"Let me be the judge of that."
"I was coming to my session, but my watch was broken and I got here early. You were just getting out of the shower with a towel around your waist and you wanted to stay dressed like that. Then, you ate an apple. Absurd things, like I said."
Hannibal knew very well it wasn't the whole truth.
"I do not like falling into low-level psychology, and I think the interpretation of dreams falls into this category, but I imagine that you want me to bare all in front of you. And the apple often represents harmony and pleasure, as well as a temptation at which you can't resist."
The cannibal was right, unintentionally, and the profiler was submerged by the memories of his dream. He blushed and looked away.
"What was going on next?" Hannibal asked.
Will gulped, tasting Hannibal's cum on his tongue again, what was insane, because he didn't know the flavor of it. The psychiatrist easily discerned his discomfort and contained a smile.
"Did the towel disappear?"
Will nodded and Hannibal crossed his legs.
"Having some erotic dreams with your therapist is common, Will. There are no shame in that and not necessarily a real desire to act," he reassured him.
"But, it's possible, right?"
"Do you desire me sexually?"
The first answer which occurred to Will was "yes", but the word struck his clenched teeth.
"What was going on next?" Hannibal asked again.
There was a prolonged silence and the atmosphere became oppressive as if a summer storm was about to break.
"I can't help you unless you talk to me."
Will remained silent, but stared at Hannibal. The air crackled between them.
"I knelled down and I gave you a blow-job," Will finally responded, deliberately rude.
Hannibal hid carefully his satisfaction, hearing this answer. Will licked his lips and the psychiatrist followed the tongue with his eyes.
"Did you felt as if you were submitting to me?"
"No, it was quite the opposite, in fact, as if I held your life in my hands."
"So, you do not see fellatio as an act of submission," Hannibal said, insinuating that he shared his view.
It wasn't a question, so Will didn't answer.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Will nodded again, after a slight hesitation.
"What was the first emotion you felt when you woke up?"
"Shame, I think."
"Why?"
"I felt obscene. I never had this kind of dream with a man before."
"Is this a problem? Are you afraid of questioning your sexual orientation?"
"It's just a dream, isn't it? We all dream about something we'll never do."
"Of course. It is not meant to be taken literally."
Will wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and stood up to look through the window. Hannibal gazed at his tense shoulders for a moment, before joining him. He got close to his back, without touching him, but close enough to feel the heat of his body. Then, he leaned forward and inhaled his perfume. He smelled adrenaline, and pheromones that he found very pleasant, behind this atrocious aftershave he loved secretly because it made him think about Will. He also discerned a muscle tension and wondered what his friend would do if he dared to put a hand on him. And as always, curiosity prevailed over everything else. There was this tiny patch of skin, right behind the ear, which smelled divine. As soon as he saw it, he could not look away anymore. He buried his nose in the brown curls and breathed deeply, before putting his lips on the beating carotid. Will craned his head to the side and leaned on Hannibal's chest.
"You're a killer. You're a cannibal. You made me look like a liar and a madman and you put me in jail in your place. What does my desire for you mean?"
"Probably the same thing as mine for you. We are alike, we understand each other."
Will turned his head to him and met his glance. His eyes stared at the cannibal's lips and Hannibal licked them. Then, Will succumbed to the temptation and kissed him.
The kiss was a bit clumsy, hesitant. Will moved his lips almost timidly, until the cannibal pointed his tongue out and tasted him. The profiler turned to him, slid his fingers in the golden-grey hair and embraced him. Hannibal put his hands on Will's hips, stroked his back and held him tight, kissing him deeply. Then, he leaned his forehead on Will's and spoke against his mouth.
"Your hour is over, Mister Graham."
"It was very instructive."
"I suggest we keep going over dinner, to my house."
"How can I refuse?"
Hannibal smirked and gave him a last kiss, before putting his coat on and he opened the door.
"Shall we?"
Will took his things, walked past Hannibal, and the door closed behind them.
The end