Hey guys, I hope you're enjoying! Please review, it would mean a lot to me. If you have any ideas too or something you would like to see in the story, comment. This chapter gets a little M but nothing real... yet!

''I saw your face. What exactly happened there?'' Jack frowned as he remembered how Will looked ill after analyzing the crime scene. Something was wrong.

''I...''

''Now, don't you hesitate on me. You have to let me know so I can help you but, of course, if you feel more comfortable with Hannibal, I insist on you talking to him about this.''

Jack Crawford could repeat as much as he wanted about how he wished the best for him but the truth was that all he cared about were the innocent lives his actions could save. He would never say this aloud but Will losing his sanity while doing his job was the least of his preoccupations, he believed in sacrifice.

At the mention of the name Hannibal, Will wasn't in Jack's office anymore. He was back at his own bedroom the night before, finally getting some sleep after reflecting about the earlier incident and still not having come to any conclusion. But sleep meant dreams and dreams meant Hannibal. Yes, this time they fucked on the table of the doctor's office and again, at the critical point, Will woke up but this time he couldn't help but indulge masturbation. Now, he was haunted by the detailed sensations.

Would Hannibal's tongue feel as good as he imagined? His taste as exotic? The suits were very elegant and all but Will wanted them out of the way, they only suggested the lean and tall form that was Hannibal. He wished to see him naked in all his glory like a Greek god - except he was Lithuanian.

In the middle of the night he had taken the dogs out of his bedroom and closed the door. Only then did he use his hands to reach for his cock and even exhaled in contentment, starting with a torturing slow rhythm. Thinking how good it would feel to have Hannibal inside him, he breathed harder and massaged his balls with one hand while the other continued up and down, but faster. He was already worked up and it didn't take a lot to reach climax, the image of the doctor biting down his shoulder from behind was enough to harden his balls and release the building tension in the bliss of an orgasm. He came all over himself with a muffled moan and slept relatively well comparing to the other nights ultimately. He would have to do this more times and a little part of his conscience said ''From insane to wanker, actually both at the same time. Pathetic.'' but he shut it out. He wasn't some kind of pervert - only where Hannibal was concerned.

''...but you have to promise.''

Oh, he was still in Jack's office.

''Huh, what?''

''Promise me you'll tell if anything is wrong''

''Sure'' This was something hard to promise, a lot of things were wrong in Will's life.

''Ok, I'll call you if something new comes in''

There he was, in front of one of his favorite places - Hannibal's porch. No appointment had been marked for that day but he did have a legit excuse: Talk about the wrong empathy. Yep, seemed legit. When inside the house, he enjoyed how they went straight to the point and didn't talk about the weather or something mundane like that, or at least, nothing felt mundane with this psychiatrist.

''Why do you think that happened?''

Will almost snapped saying if he knew, he wouldn't be here, but it wouldn't do any good to be rude to that man. These were his instincts talking so instead he replied ''I really don't know, I didn't do anything different''

''Did the killer do anything different? What was in the crime scene?''

''It was very similar to the last murder but instead of two women, it was a man. Both of the crimes specifically focused on puppets''

''If you empathized with the victim then you must have something in common''

That seemed pretty obvious but it hadn't occurred to Will until now.

''Well we're both men... he probably didn't like being tied up and I don't think I would like it too but that's where the likeness ends'' he smirked.

Silence entered the room as both pondered on Will tied up. Both liked the picture but none of them commented about it. Will wasn't even aware, it seemed to him that Hannibal was reading some notes on his desk.

''Maybe you related to how the killer saw the victim, as a... doll''

''I thought about it but I'm no doll'' Although he had to say he wouldn't mind Hannibal calling him his doll but would never do that because it was so cheesy.

''Not even Jack's doll?''

I could be your doll, he thought. ''What do you mean?'' he said.

''It's painfully obvious that Jack would do anything to get you to continue the job, even if it pushes you against the edge''

''I've been on the edge for a long time'' That statement sounded so darkly dramatic that Will could imagine Hannibal rolling his eyes but not doing it out of politeness. As predicted, the psychiatrist ignored it.

''It could be a defensive reaction of your subconscious to warn you about any kind of manipulation you have been under''

''The only thing that's playing tricks one me is my mind'' he shrugged it off for now.

After having accompanied Will to the door, Hannibal sat frustrated on his desk. He was getting impatient, even though he was a very patient person. Drawing always helped him calm down so he took one of his many pencils and started a sketch. A lot of traces together that only after a few minutes took form: Will's body positioned just like Marissa Shaw's, perfurated by deer's horns. Even his subconscious focused on the special agent, he should get other toys, distractions, hobbies, whatever.

Don't misunderstand it, Hannibal was still the cannibal but now another title competed with the classic one, Hannibal the stalker, pity that didn't rhyme as well. Of course he had always stalked his victims but not out of curiosity but prevention. In Will's case, he knew all about his past, participated of his present and manipulated his future. After many years studying psychiatry and examining patients lives, he knew from experience that when one didn't acknowledged itself's deepest desires, one succumbed to them. Even younger, he believed in that but only came to really understand it when it happened to him.

There they were in the woods. From far, they seemed like a nice couple of young people flirting and sneaking out after class, except one of them was a sociopath. He didn't remember her name, it wasn't relevant, but she was beautiful. At that time he was already aware of his taste for men but being in public with women drew last attention, or at least that's what he thought because of his insecurity. Nowadays, he couldn't care less. If, when, he posessed Will one day, he wouldn't want to expose him to public eyes, not out of shame but out of possessiveness. Some may call it jealousy but Hannibal stubbornly called it possessiveness.

Anyway, back to the woods, it was the girl's idea. She pushed him against the tree suddenly and instinctively, he almost twisted her arms back but reason made him translate the instincts into a squeeze on the butt that she, consequently, translated as a wanting plead. She practically offered herself, what could he do? He took her right there, standing, aroused not by her round curves or the breaths she moaned but by the little bloody scratches on her knees from the friction with the tree and the taste of blood on her lips. It wasn't his fault, she bit it. He had just opened the wound a little more. Only after cuming and opening his eyes he perceived the wide gash on half her face, a wide smile from ear to ear. He actually thought she looked more beautiful like that.

Luckily, for him, he had already killed a couple of times before and knew how to hide a body. Of course inconvenient questions were asked by the police but in the end, everybody thought it likely that she had disappeared to LA to be a fancy hooker or porn star, given her slutty nature.

The little college sluts were always all over him so he had chosen that one to keep the others away, they seemed to respect that. She was still slutty but it was due to her past that carried a little more darkness than other's, not deep as an ocean but not shallow as a road pond. He had always been fascinated by the ocean when little, because it was profound but not infinite like the universe. The universe used to scare him, always expanding, beginning, ending, just as the human mind. It motivated him to chase after his psychiatrist's career, it was a challenge.

He would much rather be a gourmet chef, but his dishes were to him what the creations were to it's artist, worse still, food was even more abstract than a painting of Picasso, it couldn't be permanent.
Every dish held a special meaning and a story that, sadly, he couldn't tell no one. He would only go so far as to share it in a buffet in his own house, where he could see his acquaintaces relish on his flavoring. He had only one warning to them: nothing there was vegetarian.

Yes, the past held good times, but now it was even better. He had stability and a main goal, William Graham. He was in awe of the man, really, but sometimes the other was slow like a sneil - disgusting little things. It wasn't more than a few weeks before that he had said to Will something about manipulation.

''Manipulation works much better if the subject is not aware of it.''

Now he wanted Will to be aware of it. To be aware of everything. Hinting indirectly wasn't working, mind games didn't go well with Will. What a shame, Hannibal loved mind games - although he wouldn't mind getting physical with Will - he needed a direct approach, something the investigator couldn't ignore or shrug off. Something he couldn't read wrong.