Will went to see Sutcliffe for a second time despite his previous scan. Will still wasn't convinced about his results even when it was right in front of his face, but something had been off about the whole thing. There was something wrong with Will but the cause had to be neurological and not psychological. Will was crazy, but he wasn't that type of crazy.
It was after hours and it was just him and Sutcliffe, seeing as how Hannibal was priorly engaged with whatever he does in his spare time. Will figured Hannibal being present or not didn't really matter. It's not like Will was a child and needed his hand held every step of the way. Besides, he didn't need Hannibal's influence clouding his perception this time, not that he didn't trust Hannibal.
After Will puts on his patient gown, he follows Sutcliffe into the adjoining room. He immediately falls into routine when Sutcliffe hands him ear plugs and goes through the instructions from the previous scan. Will only half listens as he hops up on the MRI table and puts in his disposable ear plugs. Sutcliffe waits patiently as Will lies down and gets comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can be on this forsaken machine.
Sutcliffe retreats back to the observation room where he gives Will a thumbs up before commencing with the procedure. Will watches the doctor until stilling his head as the whirring machine engulfs his body. The ear plugs do little to stifle the sound and his body suddenly feels itchy. Funny how that only happens when you have to stay perfectly still.
Will tries his best to not move during the whole ordeal and does well for the most part. His mind is working too fervently for his body to do much of anything, making him almost catatonic in a way. His eyes flash and blink reflexively when the red beams dance across his face, doing their job in mapping out Will's unstable brain.
He's left alone in the recesses of his own mind, thinking at the speed of light as he feels the stirrings of fading in and out of unconsciousness. His ears ring from a mixture of whirring and having his thoughts build up against his plugged eardrums. It's as if his thoughts are trying to push themselves out of his head and Will's temples begin to throb.
His mind wanders off into obscure places, embracing a wave of euphoria as it undulates down his body. But the slight tinge of odd arousal subsides when it's replaced by an uneasy sinking in his stomach. Will squirms slightly for the first time, knowing that his body will become restless soon. The pressure in his head is building up and Will feels nauseous as his blinking becomes less frequent and then stops altogether when he's lulled into a state of unconsciousness. Everything fades to black after that.
Will felt disoriented as he came to his senses some indiscriminate time later. His eyes felt open but his vision was otherwise blurred around the edges, obscuring the shapes of his surroundings. He was sitting up despite feeling as if he would fall over given the rhythmic shift and shove against his body, but his arms were wrapped around something solid and warm. Will was hesitant to let go for fear that it was the only thing keeping him upright.
There was an incessant dull ache gracing his body as well, but not the type of ache that bloomed after strenuous activity. It was an ache in the pit of his core, like nausea but not quite. The ache went lower than that, below his stomach and presumably resting solely between his legs and within his body. Slow realization spread throughout his rousing consciousness as Will articulated the scenario unfolding before him.
Awareness put three things into perspective: first one being the fact that Will was still at the hospital, second that he had lost time during his MRI, and third was that there was a body pressed up against his. Will is still groggy and his head lolls from side to side with each motion, but the sudden surge of pain and pleasure mingling together was unmistakable.
Will's final summation: he was being violated by Dr. Sutcliffe on the MRI table.
His first instinct is to push him away in disgust and throw up the contents of his stomach, but Will doesn't do that. Instead, he grips tighter to the doctor's body, pressing his fevered forehead against Sutcliffe's. Will whimpers because he doesn't know what else to do and everything he wants to say is a jumbled mess on the tip of his tongue.
He's still clad in his patient gown but his underwear have been pulled down the length of his leg, loosely hanging off of one foot. Dr. Sutcliffe is still fully dressed with the exception of his pants hanging down mid-thigh. The top of Will's ass is poised at the edge of the MRI table, going numb from the barely plush surface. He feels uncomfortable in more ways than one.
Will's head lolls off to one side when Sutcliffe cranes down to leave a trail of kisses along his neck that is covered his sweat and flushed skin. Will has to poise his chin on one of the doctor's shoulders to keep his head from falling off. He was confused as to why this was happening to him and ashamed that his body was responding to it. Will makes a pitiful little noise that resembles a sob and this causes Sutcliffe to pull away slightly.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Sutcliffe inquires suddenly with nervous worry, stilling his hips but not pulling out.
What's wrong? Sweetheat? Will wants to cackle at this guy's nerve, despising the way his concern sounds genuine when it can't possibly be real. And the endearment murmured in his ear is like poison. Will jerks away from Sutcliffe, pounding his fists weakly against the doctor's chest. Sutcliffe is taken aback by this sudden shift in body language, but he doesn't respond with the violence Will thought he would.
Instead, Sutcliffe fumbles with Will's futile attempts, gripping his wrists lightly enough to let him know that he's in no danger. The doctor does his best at calming Will down until finally he wrangles the young man into submission. Soothing words and encouragements are murmur sweetly into Will's ear and Will can't help but give in to the feeling of Sutcliffe inside him.
"Is this real? Am I awake?" Will eventually asks pitifully, looking up at Sutcliffe with glistening half-lidded eyes.
"Does it feel real?" Sutcliffe inquires.
"I feel asleep," Will slurs groggily, swaying slightly as he does. It does feel real but here lately Will couldn't tell reality from dream, which prompted him to ask in the first place. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you wanted me to," is all Sutcliffe offers him.
When Will closes his eyes he can focus long enough to search the corners of his mind for an answer. Will vaguely remembers coming out of the MRI then talking with Dr. Sutcliffe about his results, but everything after that starts to smear together. Sutcliffe could be telling the truth, then again Will couldn't remember and any decision he did make wasn't in the best frame of mind. Still, it didn't explain why Will was painfully hard.
Will's curls are plastered to his damp forehead from sweating profusely and Sutcliffe gently brushes them out of his face. He's coddling Will like a child, treating him as if he were fine china. Heh... The irony. Sutcliffe takes a second to press his palm over Will's forehead as if to gauge his fever and this causes Will to shift away a little.
"Do you want me to stop?" Sutcliffe asks, rubbing his hands up and down Will's back cautiously. "Because I will."
Suffice it to say, Will is ashamed to admit that he shakes his head at this, perfectly aware of what he's allowing Dr. Sutcliffe to do.
"No sense in stopping now," Will states, tenting the front of his gown obscenely.
One of Sutcliffe's hands cups the base of Will's skull while the other presses gently into the small of the young man's back. Sutcliffe takes his time to start moving in the same rhythm as he did before Will came back to consciousness and it honestly surprises Will. Sutcliffe is considerate with his pace, being mindful of Will's comfort, and it fills Will with a sense of security.
Suddenly, Sutcliffe's reason for violating him started to sound more reasonable than it previously had, making the word violated sound redundant. Perhaps Will had asked for this after all. He hadn't been thinking when he kissed Alana but he had unconsciously wanted it. What could that say about Will's choice this time?
Will pushes the hem of the gown out of the way so he can wrap a hand around his hard on and stroke it deliberately. His legs subsequently curl around Sutcliffe as well as the other man thrusts oh so carefully into his tense body. Whatever ache Will had been feeling was gone now, replaced by a numbing warmth. Though, it could just as well be his fever making his body feel on fire.
Everything in this moment felt bright and vivid, the colors and motions being stapled into Will's senses. It made his body light up in a way that usually only occurred during a wet dream but Will wasn't sure what one of those felt like anymore. Either way, Will let himself get lost in the sensations of Sutcliffe's light thrusting and his hand manipulating his arousal.
Sutcliffe presses kisses against Will's stubbled jaw and it's almost as if the doctor can read his mind. Somewhere in the most neglected part of Will's mind he craved the gentle touch of a lover more than anything. A show of affection for all the times he's felt overworked and exhausted.
Will brings his other hand around to cup the back of Sutcliffe's neck, bringing him in for a kiss that leaves his lips tingling with a phantom presence. They're both panting hotly in the close space between their parted mouths, making soft noises to express the mutual feeling of pleasure every time Sutcliffe's cock glides smoothly into Will's entrance.
Will begins to stroke his cock vigorously, speeding up just marginally to bring himself closer to his threshold. Sutcliffe's hips deviate a little as well, moving more purposely in and out but otherwise still gentle. Will hangs his head down against Sutcliffe's shoulder, draping his unoccupied arm across the other as he becomes a living conduit of nerves.
Sutcliffe lays Will down across the MRI table so that his back is flush against the clinical comfort of it's cushions. Will lies pliantly as Sutcliffe grabs ahold of his hips and starts to give it to him in earnest, coaxing all sorts of gasps and moans from the patient. Will is beautifully disheveled and Sutcliffe can't resist the urge to raise up Will's gown just a little to take a peek at his well-defined abdomen.
It's no wonder why Hannibal was so interested in Will, seeing as how he was a perfect specimen. Both physically and mentally. Will vaguely wonders if Hannibal would be jealous if he found out that someone else was putting their hands all over him. Will's hand is a blur by now, building up the height of his orgasm as it settles in the pit of his groin.
A few more strokes and thrusts and Will will be finding completion in his release with Sutcliffe following soon after. Will's body tenses suddenly, convulsing even as he feels a wave of uneasiness start to set in. He squeezes his eyes shut but they feel open as he trembles harshly against the MRI table, going into a seizure that paralyzes his body. All sensation alludes him as he goes into a fit.
Will's eyes snap open and they immediately get blinded by the overhead lights, prompting him to blink a few times before adjusting. The machine ejected him slowly from the vessel and it left Will reeling with fevered confusion. He felt damp and sultry laid out restlessly on the padded table with nothing but a fleeting memory of what might have been.
He jerked his head over towards the little observation room and found that Sutcliffe wasn't standing behind the window anymore. Will wasn't sure what to make of this, having lost time once again in a matter of one hour. He sits up hastily, getting a massive headrush when his blood spreads throughout his body.
His body feels like a furnace and when he shifts there's an uncomfortable feeling that spreads across his lower half. Will feels much too damp and nauseous. Will knows something isn't quite right, especially since his underwear felt soggy and his lower body was aching. It wasn't enough to be going on about, but Will made it a habit to be suspicious and question his reality constantly.
"Dr. Sutcliffe?" Will manages to call out gravelly.
No response.
He looks around haphazardly for a moment longer before hopping off of the MRI table to stand on shaken legs. Will figures Sutcliffe must have gone to his office to look over the results while he was resting, so Will collected his things and put his clothes back on. His shirt clung to his body and his jeans scraped uncomfortably between his thighs as he left the room in search of Sutcliffe.
The hospital after hours was something else altogether. It was something frightening and exciting all at the same time, but Will felt apprehensive more than anything. He strolled down the vacant hallways slowly but Will didn't feel alone. It was like someone was watching him to see what he would do. Will spares glance over his shoulder, feeling like paranoid immediately when he doesn't see anyone.
Each step sends a shockwave up Will's nerves, turning his stomach slightly. He's thankful when he finally reaches Sutcliffe's office, but his elation is shortly lived. He knocks first, seeing as how that's the polite thing to do, but when he gets no reply Will decides to let himself in. The sight he's greeted causes his stomach to drop and Will thinks he might actually faint.
His headache is even worse than before and Will is beyond disillusioned by now. He still didn't know if he was asleep or not or if his fevered dream was real but either way, the fact of the matter was that Sutcliffe was dead. Mutilated beyond recognition, and Will had to suppress the bile building up in his throat.
Dr. Sutcliffe was killed in a similar fashion that immediately warranted Georgia Madchen as the prime suspect, but something didn't settle quite right. This didn't feel the same. This murder was hasty yet driven. There were no signs of panic because the murderer was fully aware of what they were doing. It wasn't scared and frantic. It was jealous and possessive, like the murderer was mortally threatened by this particular human being and tried to disguise the crime, and that really got Will thinking.
Someone was either trying to frame Will or they were obsessed with him. Or both.
Will had to call Jack to tell him that Sutcliffe was dead, knowing that he was going to be interrogated since he was the only one present. Will is aware of how this is going to look especially if he really did have sex with Sutcliffe in his altered state. It gave him motive and fingers were automatically going to point to him but in a subtle way. No one, like Crawford, Zeller, Katz, or even Price, was going to come out and accuse Will openly for Sutcliffe's death.
Though, Will knew they'd all be thinking it.