Will was woken by the sensation of a tender hand running through the hair on the back of his head, gently petting his curls. He groaned slightly, his eyes fluttering open to reveal Hannibal's feet on level with his face. The lanky man was crouched next to the mattress near Will's head, one hand stroking him, the other clasping what looked like police issue handcuffs.
Without explanation, he reached out and pulled both Will's hands behind his back, and shackled them firmly together. Will was too weak and exhausted to even try and resist. A moment later he heard the clink of metal and realised that Hannibal had removed the heavy-duty padlock connecting the thick chain to Will's wrist.
He felt Hannibal's strong hands snaking into his underarms and gripping him tightly, and everything became a sudden blur of motion as he was pulled to his feet. Hannibal set him upright but did not let him go, waiting for Will to stop wavering unsteadily as a wave of dizziness rolled over him.
Finally Will stood independently, shaky but stable. Hannibal looked him up and down, and Will shuffled from one foot to another uncomfortably.
"I am going to take you upstairs, and you are going to eat, Will." Hannibal spoke these words as a statement. There was no question or offering in his tone.
Will glared at the floor. There was no way he was going to eat anything that was produced in this house. He'd sooner starve to death. And Hannibal was going to kill him eventually anyway. Why not check out before the psychopath inflicted any more of his sick desires on him.
His stomach twisted violently at the memory of what had happened last night. Well... he assumed it was last night. Hannibal was wearing a fresh suit and smelled of fine cologne, and faintly of soap.
"I'm not going to feed you chained up on the floor down here, like an animal. You are my guest, and you will join me in the dining room for meals."
Finally, Will raised his eyes to Hannibal's face. He didn't quite make eye contact, but instead fixed his stare on the taller man's chin.
"If I'm your guest, then surely I'm at liberty to leave when I want to."
The backhand to his cheek sent him reeling, stumbling backwards. Hannibal took one quick stride forward and grabbed Will by the front of his t-shirt, preventing him from falling. He leant in close.
"Do not forget who you are talking to." He hissed.
Will stared down, his back arched awkwardly with Hannibal leaning right into him, only remaining on his feet because of the hand twisted into the front of his shirt.
"S-s-sorry.." He mumbled.
Hannibal waited a brief moment, then pulled Will back upright. Glancing quickly up, he caught the smug smirk that was plastered across the taller man's cruel features.
He placed a firm hand on Will's shoulder, and propelled him ahead, gently pushing him forwards and up the stairs. Will blinked rapidly as they stepped into the large combined kitchen and dining room. The heavy drapes had been pulled back and the whole room was flooded with bright, natural light. Will hadn't realised how gloomy his concrete cell was.
Hannibal led him over to the grand, oak table and gently, but firmly pushed him down into a seat. It had a high back and arms, and matched the table he was sitting at. Hannibal began fumbling at Will's back and a second later he felt his right wrist become free from the constraints of the metal cuff. Hannibal attached the now empty side of the cuffs to the left arm of the chair, leaving Will with just one mobile arm, and unable to walk... or run.
Hannibal smiled down at the small, fearful man.
"I wouldn't try anything Will. You're an intelligent man, and you know as well as I do that it would prove to be unsuccessful."
Will remained silent. He stared down at his bare thighs and felt horribly exposed. A flush began to creep up his neck and he shifted uncomfortably, inexplicably ashamed of his ragged, dishevelled appearance, especially compared with Hannibal's fresh scent and spotless suit.
His grey shirt was stained with blood, most of it Hannibal's. His face and neck were heavily bruised, and his face was streaked with his own blood. His faded white boxers had greyed a little from spending a night on that filthy mattress. Will blinked back the tears of shame that threatened to spill.
While Will had been lost in his pained thoughts, Hannibal was busy preparing something in the kitchen. With an air of satisfaction he crossed the room and placed an elegant plate in front of Will. Next to it he put a fork, but no knife.
The plate contained two slices of rustic, home-made bread, a handful of fried button mushrooms, a large baked tomato that had been cut into a delicate rose shape, and two rashers of bacon. Will's stomach dropped as he looked at the bacon. It didn't quite look normal. It was slightly the wrong colour, and didn't look quite lean enough. He didn't have to think hard to know why.
Will swallowed back his retch, his shoulders heaving.
Hannibal took a seat across from him. His plate contained exactly the same as Will, the only difference was the thin, viciously sharp knife that lay to the right of his place setting.
"Bon appetit" Hannibal smiled.
He immediately tucked into his meal, chewing slowly and thoughtfully, enjoying every mouthful. Will, on the other hand, did not move. He was pitifully skinny, his stomach hollowed out and perpetually empty. But Will would not eat, could not eat this.
After about five minutes, Hannibal stopped eating. He looked at Will for a while, then placed his cutlery down on the table.
"You are not eating, Will." His voice was low and expressionless. "Is my food not to your taste?"
Will stared at his knees and didn't respond. He didn't know what answer he could possibly give that wouldn't anger the cruel psychopath.
"William." Hannibal's voice had taken on a hard edge, the promise of violence lacing each syllable.
"I... I'm not hungry." Will mumbled.
"We both know that's a lie."
There was a brief moment of silence, before Will's heart was wrenched into his throat at the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor. Will kept his eyes down, his panic mounting. A shadow fell across him, and with a quick glance to the right he saw Hannibal towering over him.
He leant down so that their faces were on level with each other.
"You will eat, or next time you will be on the plate. Not eating off of it."
"I don't care." It was barely a whisper, but Hannibal heard him easily in the cold silence of the room.
Hannibal paused for a moment, then leant back, drawing himself up to his full height.
"I see." Another pause. "You want to die." It was a statement, not a question.
"I want to not be your plaything." Will spat. "It's not that I want to die. I just don't want to be stuck here with you."
There was a silence that seemed to drag on for an age. Will's heart was pounding in his chest.
"Am I not good enough for you, William?" Hannibal hissed in a voice laced with venom. "You think you're too good for me?"
Will's breathing had become quick and shallow.
"..No.. I-I just... You.. You're a Cannibal! You're a murderer... A serial killer! You... you kidnapped me and raped me! WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO BE WITH YOU?!"
Will practically screamed the last words, pale and trembling, but full of murderous rage. He struggled furiously against his restraint, only causing more damage to himself, but far beyond caring.
Hannibal's previous dangerously still stance was shattered as he lunged forward. He grabbed the back of Will's heavy chair and dragged it backwards, carrying Will with it. Furiously, he struck Will across the face with a clenched fist, did it again, and again.
Hannibal swung his leg over Will, who was struggling to stand, desperately trying to break free of the handcuffs. He wrapped a strong hand around Will's throat, his hand mirroring the dark bruises from the previous day, and slammed his head back against the chair.
"Oh Will, so fierce, so determined." Hannibal breathed. He leant in to whisper against Will's ear. "Don't you realise... it just makes me want you more."
Will made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, struggling furiously.
"Hush Will... hush." Hannibal petted his curls with that hand that wasn't clamped around the younger man's throat.
To Will's shock, Hannibal then reached down and unlocked Will's cuff. The instant he was free Will began to writhe and kick with renewed strength, and in response Hannibal punched him viciously on the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted from Will's nose, and he went limp, eyes squeezed shut in pain and shock.
He felt himself being pulled to his feet, his legs buckling beneath him. A moment later there was an arm hooked under each of his and he was being dragged backwards along the floor. He willed himself to resist, to fight back. He was unrestrained, out in the open. He could get away. But his body wouldn't work. He was stunned, in a state of numb shock as blood continued to pump from his nose, saturating his grey shirt with ugly red-brown stains.
Will's feeling started to return to him as he was dragged over the threshold of a door, into a room that smelt horribly strongly of Hannibal. By the time he was thrown roughly down onto a large double bed, movement was starting to return to Will's numb limbs.
Hannibal threw him down and immediately began undoing his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt. Will groaned, tried – and failed to sit up. On shaky arms, he managed to roll himself onto his side. He pulled himself closer to the edge of the bed, his whole body trembling.
With a final heave he managed to sit up, and immediately powerful hands shoved him back down onto the mattress.
"Going somewhere?" The now shirtless Hannibal smirked sadistically. He straddled Will, pinning his bucking hips to the bed with his own weight, his hands gripping Will's wrists.
In under a minute Hannibal had firmly secured the struggling man's wrists with lengths of thin rope stretching from each bed post. Still, he writhed furiously, twisting his head to the side, kicking desperately, trying to throw Hannibal's sickening weight from his hips.
Hannibal elected to ignore Will's thrashing. He grabbed Will's face with both his hands, and leant into him, once more crushing their lips roughly together. He bit hungrily at Will's lower lip, forcing his tongue impatiently into his mouth.
He moved down Will's neck, sucking hard to leave a fresh bruise where his neck met his shoulder. Abruptly, he pulled away and leant over the side of the bed and opened a draw in his bedside table. Will's breath hitched in his throat as he saw the glint of wicked metal. Hannibal's hand was now gripping a thin, cruel blade with a beautifully carved handle.
He glanced down at Will, who was shaking so hard the whole bed was trembling slightly. He showed him the knife.
"The handle is carved from bone... I won't tell you whose." He murmured, a savage glint in his eyes.
Without hesitation he swooped it down to Will's chest. Will squeezed his eyes shut in panic, pressing the side of his face to the silky sheets.
"No!" He choked out, waiting for the red-hot burn of the blade on his skin, the sickening sensation of warm blood spilling over his body.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Hannibal was smirking down at him, cruel pleasure written all over his features. Looking down, Will saw that his shirt was cut neatly in half down the front. Hannibal proceed to cut the rest of it away from Will, leaving him naked but for his grubby boxer shorts.
He ran his hands slowly across Will's hollowed stomach, moved them down to the jut of his hip bones... caressed them for a moment, then stroked up his sides, his hands moving jerkily over the ripple of Will's prominent ribs.
He leant into Will, kissing the hollow of his throat, moving down his body, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to his happy trail. Using his thumb and forefinger he began pinching at Will's right nipple, tugging just a little too hard for it to be pleasurable.
Will made a strangled noise of anxiety as Hannibal slid his rough hands back down Will's body and hooked both his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. A slight hiss of appreciation escaped the older man's lips as he slipped Will's boxers off of his sharp hips. He pulled them all the way off, then threw away to join the pile of Will's clothing on the floor.
Tears sprang to Will's eyes. He pressed his face into the pillow, consumed by vulnerability. He was shaking uncontrollably, sick with fear at the certain knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
He felt warm breath against his groin, and had to bite his lip not to cry out in horror at the sensation of Hannibal's wet tongue running up the shaft of his flaccid cock. His tongue withdrew and was replaced by a large hand, and he began gently stroking up and down Will's length.
To Will's horror he felt his dick begin to grow hard under Hannibal's touch. The tears started flowing freely down his cheeks from abject humiliation. Hannibal smirked.
He gripped Will behind his knees and roughly pulled the younger man's legs up so that they were bent and splayed, exposing his puckered hole. Will immediately scrambled to close his legs, trying desperately to preserve a small scrap of dignity, but this was met instantly with a hard punch to the jaw.
However, this was ineffective at stopping Will's panicked struggles. Instinct had kicked in and all he could feel was white hot fear burning it's way through his body. He twisted and yanked viciously at his handcuffs until blood was smeared all around his wrists, a few delicate drops running down his straining forearms.
Hannibal tried punching at him once more, then sighed. He reached across to the bedside table, his wide hand fumbling until his fingers closed around the delicately carved handle of the knife. Leaning in, Hannibal fisted his hand roughly into Will's tangled hair, and gently pressed the blade to his throat.
Instantly, Will ceased his struggling, going deathly still.
Hannibal chuckled darkly, pressing his face into the hollow of Will's neck, just under the knife. He brought one hand down and once more spread Will's slender thighs. He gently caressed the smooth curve of Will's ass, then gripped it tightly, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave a bruise, making small half-moon shapes in the younger man's pale flesh with his nails.
Will remained completely still, painfully aware of the razor-sharp blade pressed firmly to his skin where his jaw met his neck. A small hiss passed his bloodied lips as Hannibal's nails dug viciously into his skin, but apart from that he remained silent.
Slowly, Hannibal slid his hand across Will's firm ass, and without hesitation pushed his broad thumb into Will.
Will cried out, the sensation of the older man's coarse, dry skin on his sensitive insides making fresh tears spring to his eyes.
Hannibal lent into Will's scream, pressing their lips together and swallowing the sounds of agony with a blissful smile. He pulled out, then immediately pushed back in, twisting his thumb slightly, Will's eyes squeezing together in anguish.
Once more Hannibal removed his thumb, replacing it instead with two fingers. He splayed them inside of Will, opening and closing his rough digits in a scissor-like motion. He pumped in and out a few times, stretching Will out until he was sure no life threatening damage would be caused.
He swung himself off of Will, the small man's sigh of relief turning to a strangled gasp as he heard the sound of Hannibal's zipper being undone. Quickly, Hannibal discarded his trousers and boxers, dumping them on the floor next to Will's clothing.
He once more straddled Will, a look of deep hunger and lust written all across his sharp features. The knife was at Will's throat again, and using his other hand, Hannibal stroked a gentle hand under his prisoners nose, across his chin and lips, covering his hand in blood.
Hannibal gripped his throbbing dick, slowly running his hand up and down it's length a few times, adding slight lubricant.
Will bit his lip as he felt the wet tip of Hannibal's cock lining up with his entrance. One hand was gripping the smaller man's hip, the other still holding the cruel blade to Will's throat.
Slowly, Hannibal pushed his swollen dick into Will, the blood doing very little to ease his entrance.
Will threw his head back and screamed. He felt his insides tearing at the unrelenting force of Hannibal's length.
Hannibal, on the other hand, moaned in pleasure.
"Oh Will.." he gasped. "You're so tight. I thought a man so needy as yourself would have had a steady stream of lovers." He gasped through gritted teeth.
Will sobbed unrestrainedly and offered no reply. Hannibal pulled out to the tip, then roughly thrust back in. It seared Will's insides like acid, making him scream once more, but his abuser slid in much easier the second time, the fresh blood leaking out of his entrance lending extra lubrication.
Hannibal had dropped the knife, both his hands now holding Will's hips in a crushing grip, pinning him to the bed. Will looked desperately at the blade discarded a few inches away from him face. He longed to grab it and plunge it into the man who was now pounding steadily into him. Will's bloody hands twitched with longing, tears running down his face, wanting more than anything for his ordeal to be over.
A hand fisted into his hair once again and his head was forced back to expose his neck. Whilst continuing to thrust in and out of Will, Hannibal began kissing and biting at the younger man's throat. Will's constant moans of pain and anxiety escalated to a gut wrenching scream as Hannibal viciously sunk his teeth into the meat of Will's neck, just above his shoulder. Blood welled in his mouth and he held it there, moving up to kiss the man beneath him, passionately forcing his tongue between his lips.
Will choked and gagged at the combined taste of Hannibal's tongue and his own blood filling his mouth. His whole body was taught, every inch of him alight with agony.
Hannibal's feral grunts and moans began to grow louder, the jerks of his hips becoming erratic and increasingly brutal.
Will was silent as Hannibal came inside him, the hot seed filling his insides and burning the torn flesh inside him.
A vile mixture of cum and blood trickled out of Will as his tormentor pulled out and collapsed on top of his chest, causing him to grunt slightly from the impact. Hannibal's face was right by Will's tear streaked cheek, and he turned away as best as he could, allowing the tears to continue to leak freely onto the sheets.
They stayed this way for a long time, Hannibal gently petting Will's sweat dampened curls, Will softly sobbing into the blood-soiled sheets.
Eventually Will drifted into a restless state, somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness. Hannibal gazed at him for a while, then gently untied the bonds from Will's bloodied, raw wrists. He scooped up the naked, still bleeding man into his arms, cradling him like a newborn child, and carried him down the stone stairs to Will's cell.
He deposited him on the filthy mattress, reattaching the thick chain to the metal cuff that was still firmly in place around Will's wrist.
For a moment he frowned, remembering that Will had still not had any food pass his lips for countless days, but he quickly banished the thought from his mind. That was a problem that could be dealt with another time.
He looked down at Will's naked, blood streaked form, and smiled. He bent down a pressed a single, gentle kiss to Will's sweaty forehead, before leaving him, alone and unconsciousness in the cold, dark cell.
He quietly returned to the main house to clean up himself and his bedroom, basking in the inexplicable joy of finally having Will how had he dreamed of ever since they had first met.
And it couldn't have been sweeter.
