In His Fevered Dreams

Chapter 2 – Le Réveillon

The Home of Hannibal Lector

Midnight

"I don't know why I'm here. I mean, it's midnight." Will glanced at his watch as he stood on the threshold of Hannibal's front door. "On the dot, exactly. I felt this incredible urge to come."

"I see that." Still dressed in a suit and tie, Hannibal smiled at the young man and ushered him into his home. "Please come in, Will. You are my friend. You're always welcome to come here."

Obedient Will, Hannibal thought. He'd planted the seed of a hypnotic suggestion in the session he'd conducted with the FBI profiler earlier in the evening. It would be a simple matter of saying the key word that would put him under his control again, but Hannibal drew pleasure in toying with young Will—his idea of a tantalizing foreplay.

After Will stepped into his dining room and saw the remnants of his dinner party, he almost turned to leave.

"I'm sorry. Did I disrupt a meal? Do you still have guests?" He shook his head. "I can leave."

"Nonsense. We are alone. Your timing is perfect. May I offer you something sweet, Will? I have just the thing." Hannibal smiled. "Have you heard of a Le Réveillon? In France and in other French speaking cultures, it means 'long dinner.' You can be my reason to indulge in my favorite repast. Come. Join me."

"Can I help you clean up?"

"If it makes you feel better about being here, yes. I will let you help me prepare for our treat."

He raised an eyebrow as Will walked past him into the kitchen and he followed.

"What can I do to help?"

"You can get the bowl of fresh whipped cream I have in my refrigerator. Also, you'll find a delightful sauce made from unpitted cherries…and something that looks like custard. Oh, and we must have a generous drizzle of chocolate, a personal indulgence of mine, I'm afraid. That will do nicely to start." Hannibal pulled out a silver tray and placed it on his counter. "Set everything on this tray while I select a nice Cognac."

"What do you do with the pits…from the cherries?" Will looked confused. "I know what I'd do if I were at home, but you don't seem the type to see how far you can spit them."

"You are a delight, Will, but why don't you let me worry about what to do with the pits."

Will looked even more confused. Hannibal crooked the corner of his lip in amusement and poured one snifter of Cognac. If Will had been paying attention, he might have noticed the serving for only one and questioned it, but he didn't.

"Oh, perhaps there is one more thing I will need." Hannibal stepped up behind his guest as Will finished arranging the silver tray and he whispered in his ear. "I will need you, too."

When Will turned, with a perplexed expression on his handsome face, Hannibal didn't give him time to think before he said the key word that would put him under his control.

"Clafoutis."

Will's blue eyes glazed over and he stopped moving. He stared at nothing, waiting for a command. Hannibal smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground.

"For your continued education, young Will, a Clafoutis is a rustic French baked dessert, made with berries in a batter similar to custard." He lowered his eyes to Will's chest as he spoke, tracing a fingernail around his nipple until it tightened. "I prefer unpitted cherries. They produce a much stronger cherry flavor. I picked the word because you remind me of a plump sweet cherry. Quite delectable…and juicy."

Hannibal took a dollop of whipped cream with a fingertip and mounded it on one of Will's nipples. The chilled treat constricted the skin of his aureola into a tight nub. Hannibal lowered his lips to the sweet teaser and sucked it in, along with Will's tight offering. When the young man groaned, Hannibal savored the moment with every lap of his tongue, feeling the ecstasy of the moan rumbling in Will's chest.

"You are better than a sweet cherry, William. Now bring the tray you prepared and join me in the dining room. Place it on the serving table."

As Will did as he was told, Hannibal grabbed a remote and flipped on his favorite concerto. He shut the draperies to insure he would have complete privacy and moved a full length mirror into position, lining it up perfectly with the table.

He swirled and sniffed the bouquet of the Cognac as he watched young Will set down the tray of sweet delights. Hannibal let his mind ponder what he would do with him. It did not take him long to decide.

"Look at me, Will."

Blue eyes met his. The strained look on Will's face told him that demand would not be painless. Even under hypnosis, Will did not like to make eye contact.

"Take off your pants. Everything goes, but keep your eyes on me until I say otherwise."

Hannibal watched as Will's fingers unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, without taking his eyes off him. His lips trembled and his hands became shaky, but he did as he was told. Hannibal stepped closer to him, not making it easy. When he got within a foot of Will, he kept his eyes on his patient as he breathed him in. Will's uncertainty and underlying fear was as intoxicating as the Cognac.

Predictable to a fault, Will folded every stitch of his clothing neatly as he did at his own home in his bedroom dresser, even his underwear.

"Put your clothing on the floor near your boots."

Hannibal finished his Cognac and poured another as he felt the burn of alcohol and lust spread through his body after seeing a naked Will bend over to place his clothes on the floor.

"Now come to me. I am the black Stag…and you are my mate. You cannot refuse me…anything." He tempered his voice to a whisper and lifted Will's chin to force him to look him in the eye. "Your body is mine to do with as I please."

Will shook as he stood in front of him. His flesh rippled with goose bumps and his nipples were hard. When his gaze strayed, Will tried to maintain eye contact and failed. But even as unsure as he looked, Hannibal noticed he had the start of a burgeoning erection. Whatever Will had on his mind, he could not hide from his body.

He grabbed Will by the neck and shoved him toward one end of the long cluttered table. Not wanting to take the time to clear it, Hannibal sent the dirty dishes and place settings crashing to the floor. He smiled when he noticed Will's erection bob.

He could have been gentle, but that wasn't what Will truly wanted. The young man wanted to be dominated and ravaged by a wild beast. Hannibal could definitely oblige. After he unzipped his slacks, he let them drop to the floor. Expecting a visit from a midnight caller, Hannibal had not worn underwear. His erection sprang free, ready to claim young Will. He shoved the young man to the table on his back and pulled his hips toward him with a jerk, until his butt dangled off the edge. He had to make sure he'd have leverage to hit Will's sweet spot.

Like a chef preparing a favorite dish, he went to the sideboard, looking over the contents of the silver tray. He quickly settled on the custard and slathered some on the tip of his engorged penis, before he returned to his guest.

"Lift your legs and spread them," he demanded. "Do not make me ask you twice."

Will grabbed his legs and hoisted his body. The muscles of his lean belly made Hannibal's body react. With a raging hard on, dripping with pre-cum, he stared down at the tight dark cherry Will offered him. His sphincter puckered. It would be a snug fit, but Will had given him complete access to his rigid opening—willingly.

Seeing the young FBI profiler with his legs splayed before him, like a splendid feast, almost brought tears to Hannibal's eyes as the symphony music built to a crescendo he knew well.

"The Stag wants you, Will. He dreams of taking you, over and over. Filling you. This time he will go deeper. You want that, don't you?" Before he got an answer, Hannibal stuffed a linen napkin into Will's mouth. He considered it a mercy. "Bite down on this when you scream. You'll need it."

Hannibal shoved his shoulders into Will's raised legs. When he did, the motion lifted his hips to give him deeper access. He targeted Will's tight entrance and pushed. Will cried out. Tears drained down the cheeks of his red face and the veins on the side of his neck strained, but the sound of his muffled agony only made Hannibal shove harder.

When Will's firm ring popped open enough, Hannibal slid inside to the hilt, feeling every inch of the younger man's clutching muscles. He heard a cry bellow from the depths of his own belly as he stroked in and out. His body became a piston, ramming in and out of the tight hole.

"This…is…glorious," he panted. "I am the Stag. I take what I want."

Will screamed into the gag in his mouth, his eyes closed tight as Hannibal drove into him.

"I am the Chesapeake Ripper, Will. You know that, don't you?"

Will didn't answer. He clutched the edge of the table, using both his hands, and held on—crying now.

"You…are more like me…than you know, young Will. You are here for a reason that your mind has not yet grasped."

Hannibal grunted and pushed harder. When he looked up, he saw his reflection in the mirror across from him. He almost lost it. He still wore his suit, dress shirt and tie, looking suitably dressed for a concert. But writhing under him was Will. His legs were splayed over his head. His toes were curled and his feet were flailing in the air, in rhythm with Hannibal's thrusts. His own face had a fine sheen of sweat that he felt all over his body as he shoved harder and faster, pumping into Will.

As the music grew louder, nearing its zenith, Hannibal climaxed at the crest of it. He shot his seed into Will.

"Arrghh. Yes. Yes!" Wave after wave, his body shuddered, spewing every drop.

He collapsed, completely spent, onto the thrashing bent body of Will Graham. He stopped the young man from moving. He wanted his cock to stay warm in its sheath. Hannibal clutched Will to his chest and held on as he spasmed in exhaustion. With each shudder, he shared every drop of his seed with Will.

The music had stopped, leaving only the sounds of their panting. When Hannibal finally pulled his length from Will, he took his time. Every quarter of an inch felt glorious. As the head of his cock popped free, he stood over Will and looked down. The young man had lowered his legs and looked utterly depleted, sprawled before him. Still with the linen gag in his mouth, he had his eyes closed with his chest heaving.

Hannibal ran his hands down Will's muscled chest and taut belly. His guest had the lingering stiffness of an erection. Being the hospitable host, he knew what to do.

"With the long dinner, Will, there must be time for dessert," he panted, with a smile. "But do not worry, my fine delectable young friend. This time…will be about you. I've been told I have excellent skill with my tongue. You be the judge."

Hannibal went to the serving table and retrieved what he would need. He drizzled chocolate and cherry juice over Will's body and placed a dollop of custard and whipping cream in strategic spots that Will would surely find pleasurable. As he spit a cherry pit across the room, he made a mental note on where to seat the lovely Dr. Alana Bloom for his next dinner party, in the very spot he'd shot his seed into Will's tight ass. That would have amused him more, but when Hannibal reflected on the only downside to his time with the FBI profiler who hunted him, he became melancholy.

Will would not remember any of this, but alas, that's how it had to be. The memory would be all his to keep and that suited Hannibal fine.

Will Graham's Farm House

Wolf Trap, Virginia

4:00 AM

Beverly Katz got an urgent call from Will Graham that sent her driving to his place in a hurry. From the sound of his voice, she didn't question his need. A call in the middle of the night—from any other man—would have her wary that it would be nothing more than a bootie call.

Will had asked her to bring a crime kit—nothing "bootie" about that. Although Beverly could think of many fun ways to use a crime kit with a naked Will, she'd given up hope that he would ever need her for that.

She drove through his gate and headed for the lit farm house. The dogs were barking as she got out and shut her car door, carrying the kit. She didn't have to knock. Will had flung the door open and pulled her inside.

Beverly smiled. That's how he would be in her fantasies too—minus the dogs.

"What's so important, Will?" She grimaced when she saw the expectation and worry in those beautiful blue eyes. "You wanted me to bring a crime kit? Why?"

"I had another blackout. I don't know what happened to me, but I need you to take a DNA sample." He went on, not bothering to explain his request. "I want you to run the analysis through CODIS. If you get a hit, bring the results to me. No one else. This has to stay our secret, Katz."

With CODIS being a national repository database for DNA, law enforcement used it to share information across the country on criminal cases. Unidentified DNA samples, that had been connected to a crime, could later result in the criminal being caught once a name got connected to the sample.

"I can't guarantee that. Not till I know more. "Splain it to me, Lucy." She crossed her arms.

Will wouldn't look her in the eye. His breathing had escalated and his cheeks looked flushed. She let him off the hook by asking him an easier question.

"Where's this sample you want me to swab?"

Will Graham shut his eyes tight and clenched his jaw. For a long strained moment, she didn't think he would answer. Eventually he did—by slowly unzipping his pants and letting them and his boxers fall to the floor—another of Beverly's fantasies.

"Be still my heart…" she whispered under her breath.

After Will pointed to the obvious, Beverly set down her kit and kneeled in front of his impressive penis. She couldn't help but fight a smile, but Will looked too serious for her usual schtick. She took out a pair of latex gloves and squeezed into them. She pressed her lips together hard, barely holding it together—especially after something unusual caught her attention.

"Wait." She held up his penis with her gloved hand and sniffed at it. "Will, your junk smells like…chocolate…and cherries."

"Shut up, Katz. Just get it over with."

Will rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. She wouldn't get anything more out of him. Hell yeah, she'd keep his secret. She wasn't going to get righteous about using a national database until she knew everything. As she swabbed his dick, running the cotton tip up and down the length of him—taking her time—she had to say it.

"Best. Job. Ever."