Chapter 3- Unconventional therapy
One week later, the doctor heard a knock at his office door. He put down his pencil and looked at his appointment list only to find the slot where Will usually had his therapy session.
When he made his way to the door, Hannibal's excitement grew. He had not expected him to return so soon-not after what had happened that night.
As the doctor swung open the office door, he glimpsed the familiar figure of Will, but something on him had changed.
"Good evening, doctor. May I come in?"
With a polite nod, Hannibal beckoned him in.
He took the chance to steal a look at the profiler, who was dressed in a dark red shirt and much more formal trousers, his jacket swept over his arm. Will carried himself with more elegance than before, his glasses had vanished and his curly hair was combed back, revealing an actual haircut.
Hannibal suddenly found it hard to breathe.
He turned around politely, walking over to the two chairs where they had spent so much time of their therapy.
"Please," he said with a gesture towards the chairs, "have a seat. Would you like some wine?"
Will made no move to sit down. Instead he strode across the room to the ladder on the doctor's book shelf and leant against it.
The profiler slightly inclined his head at the sight of the bottle. It was the same wine Hannibal had drunken with him the other evening.
He politely shook his head. "I think I already had enough of it."
He could see a small smile twisting the doctor's mouth before it vanished again. The older man seemed different today, if he did not knew better Will would say Hannibal was nervous. Excellent.
Hannibal settled down in his chair, turned in Will's direction and asked "So, what brings you here tonight, William?"
Will took his time before answering, enjoying the tension of his opposite.
"Well, you see, since my visit a few days ago, I have been feeling increasingly better. I haven't experienced any hallucinations and I woke up only once per night."
Hannibal's eyes grew dark. He studied Will's face to find any indication of him remembering how the evening had ended.
"I am glad to hear that. Do you recall what happened?"
Will looked the doctor directly into the eye. "Not in all detail, no." He waited till he saw that sly glint of relief in Hannibal's eyes.
"But that was one of the most relaxing showers that I had in my life." The profiler smiled as Hannibal's collected mask began to fall apart in front of his eyes. "And I wanted to thank you for your help," he said, arching his back against the ladder, "personally."
Hannibal got out of his chair, pretending to close the distance between them to make it easier to talk.
As he crossed the room Will loosened the first button of his shirt.
"I would like to continue my therapy with you. Last night I had terrible nightmares again. Seems like," he chuckled as Hannibal grabbed the rung of the ladder next to his head," being apart from you does me no good."
"Yes, it seems so, "the doctor whispered.
Hannibal now closed the distance between them completely, pressing Will into the ladder. The hardness of the wood in his back made the profiler shiver in anticipation and arch into Hannibal's touch, bringing himself closer to the psychiatrist.
"I am glad you came to me with," he looked at Will's obvious erection that pressed against his thigh, "your problem."
"It is always good to see a professional who knows what to do. You taught me that." He could feel the doctor's breath on his skin as the older man slowly, teasingly licked his lips.
"I need help. Your help." Will shuddered as Hannibal's fingers began to wander downwards from his chest to his abdomen as if checking on a patient.
"Will you help me, Dr. Lecter?"
The doctor licked his lips, inclined his head softly and looked at the profiler. "You must allow yourself to be intimate with your instincts, Will. Are you sure you can do that?"
Will just stared into Hannibal's eyes, his desire burning into the other man's stare. "Are you?"
Hannibal did not answer. Instead he pressed his lips to the younger man's lips. This time, Hannibal did not wait for Will to open his mouth for him. He simply pushed his tongue inside him, hard and demanding, sending shivers down the profiler's spine.
Will held onto the doctor's neck as if his life was in danger, causing the older man just to deepen his kiss and making Will moan in reply.
Heat spread out through his body, making it impossible for the profiler to think, as he tugged at Hannibal's perfectly styled hair, who groaned and bit down on his lower lip in turn. Will could feel the doctor's erection pressing into his own, the thin fabric that separated them causing friction that seemed almost electric.
He suddenly felt dizzy again, but this time it was a result of the adrenaline shooting through his veins and the lack of oxygen rather than drugs in his wine.
The two stumbled for a second, the beat of their hearts like a drum in their ears and fell to the floor, where they gasped for air.
Will landed on Hannibal's chest and breathed in the psychiatrist's aftershave. Propping himself up on one arm, he looked into Hannibal's eyes, that with their dilated pupils looked dark and almost red in the dim light.
"Do you mind to psychoanalyze me, doctor?" he said with a smirk, combing his fingers through Hannibal's ruffled hair.
"I think it would be therapeutic," Hannibal said, tracing his tongue down Will's neck while bracing his body against Will's, sending sensation after sensation through the profiler's system. Will shivered in anticipation.
"Oh, you changed your aftershave. Very wise." The doctor's voice sounded muffled as he breathed hotly against the skin of Will's neck.
The psychiatrist continued his trace downwards, unbuttoning Will's shirt on his way. As he arrived at his trousers, Will's hand stopped him.
Hannibal looked up in confusion.
"Not like this." was all Will managed to say, before he dragged Hannibal's head up and pressed the psychiatrist's lips on his own.
As their tongues battled for dominance, the profiler pulled Hannibal to his feet and to his desk. Without breaking the kiss, Hannibal swept his arm across the wooden surface, sending papers and pens flying across the room.
Will's gaze caught the flying objects and he watched the papers float to the ground for a second too long. They stood in such a harsh contrast to Hannibal's usually controlled nature, his love for order that was reflected in the design of the room as well as in his dressing style. He could not quite place it, but the odd feeling that something was not right nagged at the corner of his mind. If only he knew why he was freaking out so much about some documents-
"Will." Hannibal stared at him with a look in his eyes that Will could not quite sort out. It looked like a mixture of wariness, concern and calculation and it only intensified his suspicious feeling.
"Are you all right? Would you feel better if I'd stop?" The concern in the doctor's voice pulled him back into the present.
"No, God, no, I'm sorry. I just…zoned out. He raised his hand to ruffle through his hair but Hannibal caught it before he reached it. Instead, the doctor pressed his palm to the profiler's cheek and soothingly stroked it with his thumb. The gesture was so sweet that Will felt instantly bad for his distracted mind and his mistrust. There was nothing wrong with Hannibal. He was the one who probably needed a brain scan.
"I told you I'm in need of therapy, "he said finally and choked out a laugh. "So please don't stop. Don't you ever stop."
He could swear to have seen a shadow passing over Hannibal's face at those words, but the doctor had pressed their lips together in a blink of an eye and with the renewed body contact every other thought was wiped from Will's mind.
He pushed Will up on the desk, enveloped him with his strong arms and closed any distance that had ever been between them.
Will was the one to break the kiss and as he looked into Hannibal's eyes he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Like this, now?, "the older man asked.
Will could only nod. He felt the slight edge to Hannibal's tone. The older man did not seem to like being ordered around.
"Good. Are you sure you are feeling well? Did you experience a hallucination again?"
"Are you sure you want to talk about that now?," Will asked mockingly and traced his hands down the doctor's trousers. He tried to open his zipper, but Hannibal caught his hands as easily as a child's and held them in a firm grip that made Will inhale sharply.
Hannibal noticed his intake of breath and lifted a brow. He doubled the pressure on Will's wrists and tapped the profiler's chin up so that he could meet his eyes and watch his reaction.
Blood rushed to Will's cheeks. Hannibal's grip made him feel safe but helpless at the same time and he found that he welcomed this feeling.
"You wanted therapy. It would be easier for you to answer now. But we can of course drag this out if you wish."
Will let out a sigh. "I did not hallucinate. I did though some days ago. You know that. It is mostly Garrett Jacob Hobbs who I see."
"And how does that make you feel, seeing a person who has died long ago? A person you killed?"
"Haaannibal," Will moaned.
"Will." he said with a firm voice and looked at him with worried eyes.
"Fine, "Will groaned. "I don't know. I know it's not considered morally right to kill a person but Hobbs had murdered all those girls. He killed his wife. Was about to kill his daughter. I guess he had it coming." He shrugged.
"Are we going to hide behind morals now, William? You are avoiding the truth that you feel no regret taking a life. And that realization is haunting you and causing your brain to project your victim over and over again. And at the most inconvenient times, it seems."
He met the profiler's eyes with full force now, swallowing his stare up like the emotional abyss that Will was facing whenever he thought of Hobbs and his daughter.
"You liked killing him, didn't you?"
Will flinched away from the doctor's penetrating gaze.
"Ye-yes. It felt good. Good to end the life of someone who had ended so many lives himself."
"But it makes you feel guilty, because despite all he did, our society does not tolerate murder." It was not a question anymore.
"Yes." When Will met the psychiatrist's eyes this time, it was Hannibal who turned away, but only to gather something up from the floor. As he stood upright again, the profiler noticed a massive yard stick in the doctor's hands. Will looked at it questioningly, but could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins as his brain came up with ideas what Hannibal intended to use it for.
"I have observed your reaction when I pressed your wrists together and your hallucinations and sleepwalking just add up to those observations. You might not entirely realize it yet but you have a strong desire for being punished for what you have done."
"What I have done?, " Will asked, but his voice had already gone hoarse.
Hannibal cocked his head, a mockery of his professional seriousness from before. "You have killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. Left a daughter without her father and her mother. You vowed to protect her. In the end she died as well."
Will felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes. It was the truth, he knew it and that made it even worse. The memory of Abigail stung like a knife in his guts.
"Let's do this," he whispered and as soon as the words had left his mouth he could hear the arousal in his voice, blatant and laid open like the organs of the victims at the crime scenes he had consulted on so many times.
Hannibal nodded, a short, curt motion. He lifted his gaze barely from the ground, but in that short moment he could see the smile that lay in the psychiatrist's dark eyes as he balanced the yard stick with one hand. Will watched him methodically rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing strong and perfectly sculpted forearms.
"Turn around please."
Will obeyed, bent over the desk and lifted his butt instinctively. He felt exposed and uncomfortable, but at the same time, arousal made it hard for him to breathe.
He could feel the psychiatrist's eyes on his behind, as Hannibal commanded:"Undress."
He fumbled with the button for a moment, then the trousers and boxers slid down Will's legs, leaving the profiler feeling even more bare and vulnerable with his flesh exposed to the cold office air.
The cool, hard edge of the desk stung against his throbbing cock and made his breath catch.
Will could feel the ruler being traced softly against his exposed ass, sliding in between his thighs, scraping over sensitive skin. He arched into the touch without a thought.
"Please," he croaked, unable to stand it any longer.
"Please what, William? He could feel Hannibal's breath at his neck as the doctor bent over him.
"Just…give me anything. I need more…more than this anyway." Will's voice sounded choked as one of Hannibal's strong hands pinned him against the desk.
He could feel a soft rush of air, as Hannibal raised the ruler.
"That was not very specific, was it. I think I need to teach you how to express yourself properly."
The first blow ripped Will's breath out of him, a sharp line against his cheeks, making him loose his balance and tumble against the surface of the desk. He clutched at the leftover papers and gasped for air but the pain did not last long.
The next stroke cut across the first, drawing a diagonal line from the left to the right. It left him panting, his cock leaking slowly on the desk's surface.
"Now? What is it that you want William?" Hannibal's voice, sounding raw, barely controlled, while he ran his fingers over the swollen flesh.
Will drew in a staggering breath. The pain was already receding, leaving him empty. "I want…more."
Hannibal tsked at his vagueness.
"Fine. I want you to beat me. Harder." He could feel his face flushing in embarrassment.
In response Hannibal dug his nails in the already forming welt. The profiler sucked in air sharply and threw his head back.
The next strokes came harder, layered over the others with more precision, burning white-hot pain into Will's skin. Will had to grab the full length of the desk to keep himself upright. His arms and legs were shaking with the effort but his arousal grew with the strain of his muscles. By the last stroke his cock was so painfully pressed against the sharp edge of the desk that he cried out in pain and pleasure.
When he realized how loud he had been, Will whimpered in embarrassment.
"Shh, "the Doctor soothed. He reached forward and slipped two fingers into the profiler's mouth to calm him. Without thinking, will began to suck and felt himself relaxing again.
"I'm not finished yet," said Hannibal. Will felt him crouching down, one elegant hand placed on Will's ass and then he felt his mouth pressed to the damaged skin, licking and mouthing at it.
"Oh my god," Will moaned around the fingers in his mouth.
Hannibal's teeth scraped over the tender red lines, making his cock jerk. He did it again, harder and harder, until Will was panting and dizzy, pressing his behind into the psychiatrist's face, rocking back into his touch.
"How does it feel ?," the Doctor asked mockingly his tongue pressed wet and slippery between his cheeks.
"Nggh," was all the profiler could choke out. Hannibal bit down hard in response, making Will jerk forward and fall back on the desk.
"We talked about precision before. Now tell me, "he said and pinched the swollen skin between his fingers, "how does it feel?"
Will's breaths came raggedly, he had put one fist into his mouth to keep himself from crying out. He drew in slow breaths until he could talk again. "It hurts, God, it hurts so much. But it feels so good as well. Y-You should go on, I can take it." His voice was raw with arousal and strain.
He waited for a few long seconds but nothing happened. Then Hannibal's strong arms came up around his waist, embracing him and lifting him fully to his feet.
It was only then as they were standing so close pressed against each other that Will noticed how much his legs trembled. Blood sang in his ears.
"Hannibal, really, "he whispered his voice still raw, "I can take it. I really can."
"Shhh," the Doctor said, sounding as much out of breath as Will. "I don't think you are in a fit state to take any more. That is enough for today."
Will could not help to press himself into the other man, rubbing against him despite the sting of his abused skin against the fine fabric of Hannibal's trousers, his whole body jolting at the contact. The doctor was still hard as well, the length of his erection pushing against Will's thigh.
The doctor nuzzled against the empath's neck, inhaling deeply as if drinking in his smell.
"You were beautiful just now, "Hannibal rasped, his voice harsh with arousal. "Panting and whimpering, begging for more. You are so responsive even to the smallest touch." At that he licked a wet line along Will's neck and when he reached the collarbone he bit down hard.
The profiler moaned, tipped his head back and sucked in air through his nose.
Then Hannibal let him go, just like this, he took a few steps and began to collect the papers that were spread all around the office.
Will tried to dress hurriedly, but the fabric sliding over his sore ass made him suck in the air between his teeth a couple times. Each time he made a small noise he could see the edge of Hannibal's mouth turning into a smug smile.
When Will was finally zipped up again, he sat down on the edge of the desk and stared down at his feet, suddenly feeling out of place again. Hannibal's smile faded as he watched him.
"What I have said before about Abigail does not only apply to you. I miss her a great deal as well. No day goes by when I not think about how it would be if she was still here. Maybe then some things could have been prevented."
Will felt sick at those words. He had tried not to think about Abigail, tried to forget everything, let it all be washed away by the pain and the pleasure that Hannibal had inflicted. He gulped.
"You were right before. I couldn't save her." Tears stung in his eyes, his throat felt raw. "And after she was gone…no already before that…I totally lost control. I can't remember what I did. But you know what's written in the police report. You know that they say-"
Tears were streaming down his face now. He was sobbing and shaking like a small kid the moment when Hannibal was at his side. The doctor laid and arm around his shoulders, the other around his waist.
"You are not the only one at fault Will. I have promised to care for her as well, she was my charge. I did not realize what was happening to you. We have both failed our duty."
He sounded so sad and helpless that Will bent forward and kissed him.
When Will got out of the car, his front door opened and the dogs pooled out on his porch. After them followed a slightly exhausted looking Alana, but a grin appeared on her face the second she spotted him.
"I tried to keep them company by running with them over the fields, but they've been missing you a lot."
She knelt down to tickle Winston's head who tried to lick her face in return.
"Thank you for taking care of them, "Will said while some dogs tried to climb into his lap and the others sniffed around him excitedly.
"That was a particular long therapy session it seems. How did it go? Any progress?"
She raised her brows playfully.
Will thought of Hannibal's tongue, hot and wet and searching and of his sore skin, a burning reminder that he belonged to Hannibal now.
He tried to avoid her eyes. "Uh, yeah, I think so."
After they had said their goodbyes, Will led the dogs inside where they settled at their respective places in front of the fireplace. He went into the kitchen, took some aspirin and tried to calm his nerves.
Just as he was about to settle down on the bed, his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. Jack. With a sigh he picked up.
"We've found another body, "he said not bothering with a greeting. "I want you at the scene as soon as possible."
He gave Will the directions and seconds later he sat in his car again and was driving back to Baltimore.
The corpse had been found in the middle of a park. The man had been positioned on his knees, hands tied behind his back with a silken scarf that had been wrapped around the massive tree behind him.
The sight of the silk pulled at Will's memory, but he forgot all about it as he took in the whole sight of the body.
The man was young, probably in his thirties, his curly dark brown hair was halfway caught under a blindfold that covered his eyes. He was naked, his back arched as if his mouth was longing to touch the lump that hung from a string in front of his face. Only that it was not a lump.
Will swallowed. He could feel the ground sway under his feet as he noticed the gaping hole in the man's chest. He had been displayed as trying to devour his own heart.
The string that held the organ had been decorated with fishing lures, on his head he was balancing his own brain, its whorls on display to the world.
Every thought laid open, nothing hidden anymore, Will thought.
"Not a nice sight, huh?" Beverly had stepped between him and the mutilated body, blocking the view. He had never been more thankful to her. "Seems like someone's bed adventures didn't end well."
Despite the horror that was still stuck in his bones he had to laugh. "I wish it was like that. Did you find anything?"
She shook her head. "Not a thing. His kidneys are missing. Jack thinks it's the Ripper again."
Will rubbed at his forehead. His headache had returned. "What is with his eyes?"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He's wearing a blindfold. Don't you think chances are high that the killer tried to cover something up with it?"
She looked a bit skeptical at him but walked over to Price and Zeller who were inspecting the fishing lures. He turned away to think and ran straight into Jack.
"Will, good you're here. What do you think? Is it the Ripper?"
"I don't know. It might be him. I'll need some time to think to figure it out."
Just as Jack turned around to clear the crime scene, Beverly called them over.
"You were right about the eyes," she said, but her grin from before had vanished. "Seems like we didn't see the full picture."
Will forced himself to look at the man. His eyes were missing and inside the remaining space the killer had placed antlers that seemed to grow out of his brain. On them, he had hung a tiny label that was normally used to mark evidence. In curved letters the murderer had written See? on the piece of paper.
The handwriting tucked at Will's memory in the same way the silk had done before. He clasped his head with both hands, trying unsuccessfully to find the connection.
"Will, are you okay?" Beverly's voice. She looked at him worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm alright. Just clear up the area and I'll start working."
"That's not the only thing we found." She paused. Jack tapped his feet against the ground impatiently. Will looked up, saw the nervousness in her face.
Price took over for her. "The lures," he said. "They are nearly identical to the ones that we found at Mr. Graham's house."
Will could feel the uncomfortable silence as everyone tried to look everywhere, just not in his direction. "They all contain human remains, hair and teeth of victims of whose murder Mr. Graham is accused of. Marissa Schurr, Georgie Madchen, Dr. Sutcliff, Cassie Boyle, Abigail Hobbs."
The silence at the scene became almost unbearable.
Finally, Jack was the one to break it. "So what you're saying is that there is a possibility that it wasn't Will who murdered all these people? And that the murderer knew that?" Jack frowned. "So what is he trying to do, help Will?"
Everyone looked at Will, who finally got the courage to meet their eyes. "Yes," he said and swallowed hard around the lump in his suddenly sore throat. "I think that is the only logical explanation."
After that, Will tried to get over with his work as fast as possible. The glances the others shot him were almost unbearable.
He could not blame them. He had been declared a threat, mentally unstable and Jack had risked his job more than once to get him back on board.
Now that they had found the lures everything would change. Maybe they would even resume the trial.
He stood in front of the body and tried to block out his thoughts. The killer was now the only thing that mattered.
Layer by layer he unraveled the crime scene, blocked out the faint voices around him and saw how the man before him had been brought here, how his heart had still beaten as it had been cut from his chest with surgical precision.
It was the first organ to be removed, after that he had taken the brain and placed it on the man's head. Both heart and brain were exposed, absorbing everything around the body that usually was their home. The corpse was wearing its brain as a crown, almost worshipful. Like he could think like no one else could.
Still he was blind to what was right in front of him. That was why his eyes had been removed, so that he did not see that the thing his mouth longed to taste was his own heart.
Will opened his eyes. Some puzzle pieces were still missing. He could not quite place the meaning of the antlers or the sexualized posture of the corpse.
Still he knew who had done this, knew it with a sickening certainty.
He stepped forward to inform Jack. He said his goodbyes to Beverly, Prize and Zeller. Then he got into the car and drove home. He took a handful of aspirin. He let the dogs settle around him as he curled himself up on the bed and tried to suppress the thought that the Chesapeake Ripper had for some reason given the FBI enough evidence to rehabilitate him.