Author's Note: Holy crap another update! Only I feel kind of bad about this one because I started writing it during class. Oh well, I'll just blame it on Mads Anyway, this definitely kicks the heat up a little more and I hope you all enjoy it. And let me say just because Will decides to put up a fight does not mean things are going to turn out in his favor. Happy reading, readers!
Chapter Nine: Two Can Play That Game
A grunt was heard. Will had managed to land a hit squarely against the underside of Hannibal's jaw. The younger man swiftly hoisted his upper body off the table and prepared to turn himself on his side.
A pair of strong forearms wedged themselves against the underside of Will's armpits and even stronger hands clamped onto his shoulders. The hands pulled in a firm downwards motion, again anchoring Will to the table.
Will was mentally scrambling for his next bright idea when a sharp pain flared in the back of his neck. Confusion made him pause momentarily.
What the hell was Dr. Lecter doing?!
An attempt to dislodge himself resulted in another painful…pinch?
What the fuck was the bastard doing to him!
A third sensation, not unlike fingernails trapping a substantial amount of flesh, caused an alarming sense of clarity.
Dr. Lecter wasn't pinching him.
He was biting him.
A strangled cry of bewilderment and anger tore from Will's throat. He desperately tried propelling himself forward on his elbows. The pain increased. He surged forward a second time. Too much momentum sent his elbows out from under him, sending him crashing flat onto the hard surface.
Both teeth and hands clamped down again.
Will froze, something clicking in his brain. Despite himself, Will stilled his body for a few moments.
Another bite.
However this one was different. Experimental.
Will finally understood. He began to shake as pure, numbing fear surged through his synapses.
The doctor would not be satisfied with temporary acquiescence or fleeting obedience masquerading as compliance. Those things did not have a place in this room.
Those things did not have a chance in this room.
Full, complete submission was what Dr. Lecter wanted from William Graham.
Will made a decision.
He was not going to give something so precious, his control and his submission
… to him.
Not without a fight.
Not without wringing every bit of value and entertainment from it until it resembled a lifeless, still, useless thing that the doctor wouldn't see as worth his time, his effort, his cruelty.
Will slowly lowered his head so his forehead just skimmed the table, stretching the expanse of his neck forward. With bated breath he waited for Dr. Lecter's reaction.
Hannibal did not relinquish the hold he had on Will's splenius capitis. He was not foolish enough to think this submission was nothing but heartfelt. Dear Will was trying to trick him. Hannibal internally nodded his approval.
Sporting boy.
He slowly unclenched his teeth and sucked the tender patch of flesh into his mouth, gently sucking and soothing the area. He smiled softly when he heard a groan so quiet he would have missed it had he not been listening for it.
The good doctor rose a few inches and observed his work. The area was a deep red, almost purple. His eyes rolled back a little, imagining the blend of colors the bite would acquire over the next few days.
Will stretched his neck a little to the left and right. Hannibal smirked.