In His Fevered Dreams

Chapter 3 – In the Afterglow

The Office of Hannibal Lecter

Next Day

After yesterday and last night, Hannibal could not get Will Graham out of his mind. The smell of him lingered in his nostrils and the taste of him stayed blessedly in his mouth and on his lips, sensations that usually remained from their encounters, but something more haunted him that he couldn't quite get a handle on.

Even when he was with another patient, his thoughts drifted to his obsession. He'd find his eyes staring at the spot on his desk where he could vividly picture Will bent over it, panting with his bare ass showing. Or his gaze would shift to the bronze statue of the black Stag and he'd feel blood flow to his penis as he recalled Will's dream of being the naked conquest of a wild beast.

Before his next appointment, Hannibal enjoyed a cup of espresso and sat at his desk. He allowed himself to fully indulge in the memory of last night when Will had unwittingly come to his home, under the spell of the hypnotic suggestion he had planted in him. Hannibal pictured Will Graham sprawled on his dining room table, gasping and exhausted after their first session of the evening where he had played the part of the Stag once again. He'd taken Will in a crude rough manner, mounting him from behind as if they were two animals in heat.

But that wasn't how the evening ended—and that's what had Hannibal mystified.

He remembered leaning down close to Will's aroused penis after he'd nestled it into delicious custard as if he were plating a dish for a proper presentation. With a spoon, he doled out the unpitted cherries and carefully placed them against his girth, for blood red color. The whipped cream mounded the base of his cock, which had come to full attention with the teasing machinations of his fingers. The final touch was a subtle drizzle of chocolate sauce. He laced it down his balls and made a back and forth pattern over his creation, with a tempting dollop on the tip of his manhood that would be his first indulgence.

'Only one part of you is allowed to move, Will. Do not disturb my masterpiece until I take the first serving. I wish I could share, but alas, I will not share you with anyone—not even you.'

He smiled as he remembered the wide-eyed yet hungry look on Will's face. Hannibal had wanted to kiss him right then, to plunge his tongue down his throat, but the smell of custard and Will's pre-cum had been too tempting to resist any longer.

Hannibal stepped between Will's legs as he lay at the head of the table, sprawled on his back, ready for him. He slipped his hands under Will's ass and held the firm precious flesh, staring down at his design as he breathed it in. He had buried his face in the luscious dessert that he'd made of Will's cock. He sucked in the head, doused with chocolate, and let his lips slide down the shaft as he rolled his tongue to caress Will's engorged girth. After his lips found Will's balls, he sucked them both into his mouth and delighted in the sweet and savory saltiness of his male musk.

As the gooey custard and chocolate smeared over Will's body and slid down his crack onto Hannibal's hands, he squeezed Will's butt cheeks and loved the slick, wet stickiness. He sucked and tongued Will's swelling penis, bobbing his head up and down the length of him. When he slipped two fingers into his tight anus, Hannibal teased them in and out to make Will writhe even more.

With a glance into the strategically placed mirror that he had in his dining room—he watched himself pleasure Will Graham, who moaned and prodded his hips to match the rhythm of his thrusting head. In an unexpected move, Will grabbed Hannibal's hair and forced his cock deeper down his throat. Hannibal felt the bulbous tip of Will's penis hit the back of his throat and almost gagged as it swelled. He felt Will's balls tighten and his cock stiffened. If Hannibal didn't want to swallow Will's seed, that would've been the time to pull away. He could've gripped a tight hand around his stiff penis and rubbed hard until Will came, milking him with every shudder, but that's not what happened.

Will held onto Hannibal's plunging head and forced him to swallow as he shot his hot salty seed against the back of his throat. The taste of him mixed with the sweetness of custard and chocolate and the pungent fruitiness of cherries. Hannibal breathed through his nose and swallowed fast, not thinking. Will moaned and rubbed Hannibal's head with genuine affection as he squirmed under his lips.

Hannibal had even licked him clean, which aroused Will for another go. He prepared a second helping of Will and consumed far too much sugar to allow him to sleep, but it had been worth every calorie. He suddenly realized why he hadn't gotten Will out of his mind all day. Will forcing him to suck his cock and swallow had perplexed him.

Subjecting Will Graham to post-hypnotic suggestions, where the young man gave his body to him to do with as he pleased, had been dangerous enough. The thrill of their encounters fueled his adrenaline—the hunted fucking over the hunter. Up until now Hannibal had been the dominate Stag claiming a dutiful mate who obliged his every desire. He loved the excitement of forcing Will to unknowingly bend to his power and control—enough to give himself to another man—something Will Graham in full consciousness would never do.

It had given them another deliciously intimate secret to share, but Will had turned the tables on him, and more puzzling, he had allowed it to happen. Hannibal had to admit. When he had played the part of the submissive to Will Graham—he liked it.

Will Graham's Farmhouse

Will sat on the steps of his front porch wearing only jeans as he watched his dogs play in a patch of grass he needed to mow. Days off were hard for him to get motivated these days. Other than his family of dogs, he didn't give a shit about much else.

His nights were always filled with horrific dreams about dying where he might open his eyes to a bloodied corpse lying next to him, staring at him with milky white accusing eyes. His days weren't any better. They were consumed by hallucinations, headaches, lost hours of his memory, and unexplained fevers that had him choking down far too many aspirins.

His waking hours had bled into the twilight of his worst nightmares and he hadn't been able to tell the difference. He should've walked away from Jack and his demands on his psyche, but the rush of hunting killers, who were a hair's width away from his own mental instability, had kept him addicted to the work. He desperately wanted to feel he was different from those he hunted, but with each case, the lines got more blurred. He wasn't strong enough to hold on to his own sanity.

What did that say about him? He shoved the thought from his head. If he didn't know who he was anymore, how could he possibly be sure he hadn't teetered over a dangerous edge that made him no better than those he hunted?

Alana had been smart to stay away—for her sake.

Even though she and Hannibal were the only real friends he had now, he felt an aching hole in his life where his hope of being normal with Alana had been. She was like a distant shoreline, with him adrift in a forceful current that sent him further from the safety of land, into churning dark waters. He wanted to dream of waking in her arms, feeling rested and safe—or caring for her the way she deserved to be loved—but those dreams had vanished long ago.

He fidgeted on the hard wood, unable to get comfortable, as he choked down another aspirin, dry. His ass hurt and he didn't want to think about why. He'd probably had that strange dream again, the one about the Stag, but how could he explain the chocolate stickiness on his penis. Had that been real? Katz had smelled it on him.

Katz. God.

He'd been mortified to call Beverly Katz in the middle of the night to do a DNA swab, when all he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and scrub his skin raw. Something had made him suffer through the looks she gave him and the feel of her latex gloved fingers on his penis as she knelt in front of him, swabbing the length of his dick. Her fingers had even given him a woody. Damn. Will's face flushed with a heat that hadn't come from his constant fever. He didn't know how he'd ever look Katz in the eye again.

When his dog Winston ran up the porch stairs and dropped a tennis ball at his bare feet, Will shook loose his self-pity and stood to toss the ball. When he noticed a car pull into his drive, he kept the rubber ball in his hand and held on to it. He recognized the car right away.

Alana.

She parked at a distance from his house, not wanting to disturb the dogs' play. Alana was always thoughtful like that. She walked up the drive toward him, wearing worn jeans, a pale blue sweat shirt, and sneakers. He suddenly realized he didn't have a shirt on and got up to go inside and put one on, but she stopped him.

"I've got brothers. Don't bother dressing up for me."

When he thought about Alana these days, clothing was the last thing on his mind. He thought of her in his bed with her pale skin naked under his sheets and her dark hair splayed on his pillow. He imagined her eyes fixed on his—and not feeling awkward about staring back. His senses remembered her kisses and the smell and feel of her skin. God, he wanted her, but that wasn't going to happen.

He had to learn how to let Alana go.

"I'm thinking about installing a flag pole in my front yard," he said. "If my white flag is waving, that means I'm still unstable. You won't need to stop."

"I stop because I'm your friend, Will. I want to see you."

He only smiled.

If he explained how much it hurt him to see her—even as a friend, knowing that's all they could be—she might see the damaged person he'd become and realize he was beginning to give up hope of ever getting better. He wouldn't put her in the position of feeling obligated to him, if it meant she'd have to sacrifice her safety to be with him.

Will loved Alana.

He wasn't sure when his feelings for her had changed, but he would never tell her how he felt now. She deserved better.

"I was about to fix a late breakfast. You hungry?"

Will threw the tennis ball deep into the yard and watched as the dogs chased after it. Alana did too, before she turned to smile up at him, squinting into the sun.

"I could eat."

She climbed the stairs and did a surprising thing. She slipped her small hand in his and nudged closer to him, with a shy expression on her face. He felt the warmth of her body and breathed in her faint perfume that had mixed with the addictive scent of her skin and it made him blush. In that moment, Will got a glimpse of the innocent little girl Alana used to be and it only made him want to know everything about the strong woman she had become.

If he hadn't realized the instant he had fallen in love with Alana Bloom before, he got a reminder of why he would never forget her now.