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“Do not walk away from me, Will.”
He wanted to think his body stilled from the malicious quality of Hannibal’s voice, not the primal impulse that shot down his spine. Will’s hand held the door’s handle, but it was frozen. He stared at it, dread settling in his stomach like a rock.
Short, shallow breaths honed his flight response. It was the doms that fought, while a sub’s only chance was to flee. Stay in the company of an aggressive dom, especially one like Hannibal, and Will knew what would happen. He gave lectures on Control Killers at the academy, showed agents in training the aftermath of abusive doms that forced a drop on their victims. An infamous case featured a sub so deep in her drop, the dom had convinced her to please him by killing herself. He wasn’t sure if Hannibal was capable of such a thing, but the thought terrified him nonetheless.
“Will.”
The image of that woman, kneeling and desperate for praise as she placed a knife against her throat, haunted Will on restless nights. And right now, her whines were on loop in his head, a warning siren.
“Take your hand off the door.”
Will squeezed the handle before letting go, his arm falling limp at his side. He closed his eyes, ashamed of the shudder that overcame him.
“Step away from the door.”
His knees buckled, but he complied. His back was still turned against Hannibal, a clear insult. It was something. He wasn’t completely pathetic.
“Tell me Will,” He could hear Hannibal take some steps behind him. “When was the last time someone dropped you?”
He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “You…you know.”
“I do.” Hannibal admitted. “But I want to hear you say it.”
There was a lull only until Will couldn't stand it anymore. “…Fifteen years.”
“Speak up, Will.”
“Fifteen years-!” He balled his hands, fists tight enough to pierce his palms. He never shouted before, not when his walls were down. Not when he felt so…subservient. His mind whispered punishment, his body trembled at the idea. How could biology be so unforgiving? Betray him so easily? All those years of just suppressing his nature, growing used to everyone reading him as a base had made him weak. Made him forget just how easy he could crumble if someone discovered the truth. If someone abused his…inexperience.
“Turn around.” Oh god, Hannibal was hitting all those notes. He carried just the right tone that would make any sub squirm. And he wielded the control like a child wielding his father’s gun, arrogant and eager to show off.
Will exhaled though his nose before shifting on his feet. He was a puppet with just one string, so easily malleable Will would have been sickened if he wasn’t so focused on the growing heat in his stomach, the expanding void in his head.
The moment Will turned around and his eyes looked down to meet Hannibal’s glossy shoes, the doctor pressed his lips in, licking them. Will was giving him the universal sign of compliance, head bowed with arms dead at his sides, even if he didn’t realize it. The sub’s breathing was still erratic, his eyes still bright and panicked. He wasn’t close to a drop just yet.
“Get on the floor, Will. Kneel for me.”
His legs moved on their own accord, bending immediately and sending Will near crashing on the office floor. He gasped, hands finding purchase in the rug below him, hair falling over his eyes. His head hadn’t slipped like this in such a long time. There was a theory, a heavily accepted one, that the longer a sub went without going under, the more the need for one would build. And when the drop would inevitably come, entering subspace was like a bullet. Fast and damaging. Will believed it now. He was proof.
He sank to his knees with wide eyes, willing but unsure. Hannibal had never seen Will like that before, kneeling for him so readily. He eyed the sub’s bobbing Adam’s apple, imagining his tongue licking away the cool sweat along his neck. Just one lick, one small nip against his pulse point, and Will would dive off the deep end.
“I want you to crawl to me, Will. Come to me like a good boy.”
Oh, oh, and the praise. Will hadn’t heard the phrase good boy in such a long time. Another collection of shivers rolled over him and his eyes shut at the sensation. He had so many dogs at home, said good boy so often to his own pets, watching the wag of their tails. It was the closest he ever got to that elation, sometimes saying the phrase and pretending it was someone else. It was pathetic and sad and he would never admit that to anyone.
“Come on, Will. Be a good boy and come to me.”
Hannibal knew he loved the praise, lived for it. He knew everything. Will had trusted Dr. Lecter. The man became the third person in Will’s close and sparse ring of friends to know his secret. The man had to know, if he wanted to help him as a therapist. And he told Hannibal everything. When he first presented as a sub. The added difficulty with his empathy disorder. The suppression classes, the training, the medications. The charade of a base lifestyle. Hannibal knew he was just one manipulative dom away from possibly the deepest drop in history.
Will bit back a moan and sank lower to the floor. He began to slowly inch his way toward Hannibal, the odd movements making his shirt pull out from his jeans. When he was just a few inches away, Will stopped and sat back on his legs. His head was still downcast, eyeing his nearly unrecognizable reflection in Hannibal’s shoes.
A cool hand nestled in Will’s hair, tenderly caressing it like a father would his son after a baseball game. “That was very good.” Hannibal’s voice was nothing like what Will was accustomed to. It wasn’t objective, vague, casual. It was his real voice, smooth like a flower’s petal and impossibly persuasive. A dom’s voice.
When Hannibal crouched over Will and whispered in his ear, “Good boy,” he heard himself whimper for the first time in over a decade. He leaned into the hand, desperate for any physical contact, and whined when Hannibal drew himself away. Punishment- no, no, no, this was torture.
“Undress yourself for me, Will.”
The command was so simple and exact, it just begged to be followed. A white noise blared in Will’s head when he remembered the danger he was in, and his fingers hesitated at the clasp of his belt. “Please…sir, I-I can’t-”
Hannibal shushed the quiet protest with a hand returning to rest on his head, feeling a shiver of his own shooting down his back at the title Will gave him. He glided through strands of his hair and lightly tugged at the knots.
“Undress. Display yourself for me.”
The hand yanked at the roots, making Will squirm and his legs immediately parted. A pink flush swept across the bridge of his nose. Oh god, he wanted to be so willing. He wanted all his decisions to be made by a dom. To give himself over. Oh, yes, yes, yes.
A warm chuckle. Did Will murmur those last thoughts?
His hands slipped his leather belt through the loops, tossing it to the side and unclasped the button and zipped down the jeans. He sat back on his ass, tugging off his scuffed shoes, pulling his jeans and boxers away to reveal pale legs covered with thin dark hairs. Will hadn’t managed to take off his shirt, just unbutton it, when Hannibal joined him on the floor, also on his knees, and cupped his face with both hands. Hannibal kneeled with him, in his thousand-dollar suit, and Will immediately sighed and leaned into the touch. He grabbed Hannibal’s wrists and pressed the hands harder against his skin. His eyes were closed from the gratifying contact.
“Tell me, Will.”
“Wha-what sir?” His eyes popped opened, uneasy and unsure. Disappointing this dom would be a nightmare, but he had no idea what Hannibal wanted him to say.
“Tell me to drop you.” Hannibal closed the distance, breathing into Will’s hair and placing his lips against his forehead. “Tell me to claim you.”
Hannibal Lecter was an alpha of doms, and many people respected him solely for the fact he never abused his biology. His genetics alone could have granted him a position as a CEO, a chief of police, hell, he could dabble in politics and wind up governing a city. But in his perspective, psychiatry and medicine were humble professions for his status. And it worked. He always ensured his company felt comfortable, that his guests didn’t feel threatened or intimidated. He had kind eyes despite his predatory stature. Hannibal learned, probably at a young age, how to conduct himself to make bases and subs less afraid, make other doms less compelled to compete with him.
No one would ever suspect Dr. Hannibal Lecter would abuse his long line of pure alpha blood. Will had once, and he thought his mind finally snapped for considering it.
But now Will realized he was right, his last shred of rational thought, and then his mind was finally silenced, the last of his panic replaced with desire and the concern of satisfying this dom.
Will pressed himself against Hannibal, hands trailing up and down his waistcoat, feeling the firm chest underneath. “Yes, yes, please, drop me. Claim me, Hannibal.” He babbled “Please. Please, I need it.”
Without a warning, Hannibal pushed Will back and against the floor. He pinned Will’s wrists up, on either side of his head, and Hannibal stretched his body over him like a predator scrutinizing his meal.
Will Graham was perfect like this. His breathing evened out. His pupils were blown and clouded with desire to please his dom, cheeks flushed a pure pink, blushing like a textbook virgin, like a prize well won. Will was like this for Hannibal, and only him. No one else had seen him like this, and no one else ever would. He was a mess on the floor below him, clinging to Hannibal like a lifeline. He was the only person in Will’s universe, even though minutes ago he had been anything but.
Hannibal pressed himself against and over Will, using his weight to make the other man writhe and moan as he trailed kisses from his collarbone up his neck. Will spread his legs so Hannibal could settle between him, his mouth slightly parted as Hannibal slowly inched to his pulse point.
A cry filled the room when Hannibal bit down. He bit, then sucked, then bit again and drew just enough blood for little Will to feel a throbbing sting. He acted more on instinct than skill, lapping up the small beads of red and watching Will’s wide, innocent eyes grow even more hazier. Watched as his muscles grew slack against him. He wasn’t frantic in any way now, not for an escape, not for Hannibal’s touch. He was in drop.
Hannibal took his hands away from Will’s wrists, caressing the sub’s bare chest and sliding his hands up and down his sides. Will melted in the motions.
“You want to be a good boy, don’t you, Will?” Hannibal smiled at the man’s eager nod, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He knew how much dear William loved the particular expression, feeling a surge of protectiveness spill over with the knowledge of something so intimate about the sub. “Get me ready for you.”
Hannibal arched his hips off the other man. He towered over Will, kissing his forehead and sliding fingers through his hair as he felt Will’s hands snake down to his waistband. His fingers were frantic, shaking with enthusiasm as they pulled the belt through the loops and dragged the zipper down.
Will did not need to prepare him, as evident by the way his cock sprang out the moment Will reached into his silky briefs. Not only did Hannibal find it incredibly captivating at how ready Will was to follow an order (why and how did this man charade as a base for so long?), but the feel of those warm hands wrapping around his length so desperate to satisfy; it nearly made him come on Will’s stomach.
“Enough,” he breathed beside Will’s ear, not wanting to end this before it had even begun. The other man stopped stroking Hannibal’s cock but kept his hands on both sides of his hips, the sheer physical contact making Will into a rambling mess. Touch-starvation was a common consequence of a sub who neglected his basic instincts. Hannibal would wager he’d be overwhelmed by a handshake until he grew used to his temperament. Until his drops would become a regular occurrence.
Hannibal reached for a small, travel-sized tube in his back pocket, having planned this before their session even started, and popped a small amount of clear lubricant on his fingers. Will watched as the other man slicked his fingers, and he whined. His hips began to buck at the idea and ever so slightly did Will’s own length reach up against Hannibal’s. The dom above him gave a low growl and he fell against Will to bite and suck along his neck. His knees moved out a little more, forcing Will’s legs to spread even wider as he devoured the sub’s neck and pressed against his pulse point mercilessly. Will was too far gone, eyes black and rolling behind his head, when he felt a single bare finger push inside him. He gasped from the sensation, his body already accommodating for something it desperately wanted since he first presented at thirteen. Hannibal overridden his senses, he was everything Will smelled, saw, and felt. He tasted him too, when he finally landed those claiming lips on Will’s own, smashing them together like Will was his desert oasis.
The digit pushed farther in, making Will arch off the floor and whine even louder.
While Hannibal worked Will to a crying bundle of pleasure down below, he also took care of Will up above, making small bruises appear while other bite marks drew faint trails of blood along his neck. He bit into Will’s lower lip, tasting the warm liquid and making sure the other man did as well by a deep-throated kiss. He dominated Will’s mouth, and hooked his finger inside and felt the man’s thighs clench and tremble.
Will shuddered. Feeling dominated, being used, oh god, it felt so good. It felt so right. He’d never hide behind psychological walls again. He wanted the world to know he was a sub, wanted everyone to know it was Dr. Lecter who had claimed him and had been inside him.
Hannibal sent another finger inside, both of them scissoring and stretching him, moving incessantly. Will bucked his hips when they brushed against his prostate. His cock ached, it would only take so much now.
The man above him released his hold on Will’s neck and sat upright, adding another finger as his other hand wrapped around the base of Will’s cock. The fingers moved smoothly in and out, Will’s body knowing its identity even if Will himself was still grasping the idea. Hannibal increased his tempo, watching the sheen of sweat covering the warm skin, and he pressed inside even deeper, being rewarded with a spasm and cry of pure pleasure. He withdrew his fingers, near dizzy with desire himself.
He lathered some of the lubricant on his bobbing member, breathing deeply and trying to endure; the slightest touch and sight of Will would bring him to the end if he wasn’t careful. He grabbed Will’s hips, positioning himself as a hand helped his cock push against the entrance.
“Tell me Will, who do you belong to?”
The hard feel of Hannibal’s tip pressed against him made Will shiver and gasp. “Yours, yours-” There was no hesitation. “I belong to you.”
He moaned as Hannibal wasted no time, pushing in as they both let out gasping exclamations.
“Please, please,” Will bucked his hips to draw Hannibal closer, deeper inside him, and his legs lifted to hook themselves around the dom’s waist. Hannibal took care of the problem and with one swift thrust he rocked into Will.
The loud cry he heard immediately after was something so beautiful Hannibal wished he had a recording of it. Will was pink underneath him, flushed like a embarrassed child, eyes squeezed shut as his face changed between shameless lust and unbearable pain. It was something Hannibal couldn’t get enough of. Not only did he have the most precious submissive male under him, but one so perfect and never claimed? Will had tried so hard for so many years to make himself into the most undesirable mate, and he never realized he was doing the exact opposite. He was flawless.
He was so tight, never before used. Hannibal leaned down to steal another kiss.
Will pressed into the ground, feeling himself melt as Hannibal laid on top of him, determined to consume every inch of his body. The steady but punishing rhythm was the worse and the best thing he ever felt in his life. Pain and pleasure moved in both directions, traveling up his spine and down to his toes, clashing and blending somewhere in the middle. Hannibal was fucking him into the floor, hard enough to make the floorboards creak underneath him.
A bond was forming, a claim began to rewire Will’s head. He was becoming owned, becoming something he thought he’d never allow.
“I’m going to take good care of you.” Hannibal knelt in the crook of Will’s shoulder as he pulled out and thrusted back in and Will met him halfway with a loud, accepting moan.
The rhythm was desperate and building, the push and pull of his hips left Will gasping and unable to do more than make quiet whines and hushed pleas. When Hannibal pushed against the other man’s prostate, he watched Will’s profile as he shuddered and began to pant. A line of sweat trickled his hairline. Hannibal continued to slam and push against the gland, making his sub overflow with pleasure and madness.
Will was deep in his drop, so deep Hannibal knew it would take much longer than normal for him to come out of it. He had to make this perfect, had to bring Will over the brink of sanity in order for his claim to be a lasting one, one Will wouldn’t be able to ever break. Already so far gone, Will shouted when Hannibal took a firm hold of his cock, fisting it at the same, near-frantic pace Hannibal was pushing into him. Within seconds he cried out, hands wrapping around Hannibal’s neck as his balls tightened and he spilled over Hannibal’s hand and his stomach. His body convulsed, shuddering.
Hannibal continued to position his own hips in and out of Will for a few more seconds before he came with a low, long growl in his throat, releasing deep inside Will’s body.
Together they caught their breath on the smooth floor, Will warm and sweet against him as he nuzzled and pressed himself by Hannibal’s neck. The man lifted his thumb to his mouth, tasting Will’s spend and basking in the positively foreign --certainly not dom and definitely not base-- taste of him. He took his thumb out, noticing Will watching from the crook of his shoulder, and he didn’t have to say a thing as Will readily craned himself up and took the digit into his own mouth.
The soft sighs of Will as he sucked diligently were addicting. Hannibal glanced down and took in the sight of his legs still wantonly spread, knowing his spill was slowly dripping out.
“You were such a good boy for me,” Hannibal sat up and tucked himself back into his pants.
Will, dazed and eyes half-lidded, smiled at the praise. “Thank you.”
Looking at the slender frame, those doe eyes, how easily his mouth had opened in that silent O; Will was an incredible actor if he had fooled everyone into thinking he was a base. My, everything about him could be found under the textbook characteristics of a sub. And absolutely no one could fake that submissive whine.
Will laid on the floor, hands slack by his head, as he watched Hannibal tenderly clean him up with a fancy handkerchief.
“Get up with me, Will, we’re going home.”
Will complied, his eyes clouded. Still in drop, Will would be vulnerable for a while longer. Hannibal didn’t mind the idea. His intention was to wear the sub out enough so when he did come back, he wouldn’t have the energy to run away or fight against him.
Will faintly remembered the office, if one counted feeling unadulterated lust and euphoria as a memory, the feel of Hannibal against him, of the voice that struck him like lightning. He didn’t however, recall the car ride. Couldn’t remember walking into the house. Couldn’t connect the dots as to how he ended up in Hannibal’s bed. He wasn’t dense, he knew what had happened. A hum vibrating deep in his chest confirmed everything as Hannibal spooned him, strong alpha arms wrapping around him and holding him close. He was coming out of a drop, the drop, and it was hell.
“Shhh,” Hannibal whispered, a hand came up to gently stroke Will’s hair.
Despite himself, Will leaned into the massage, his eyes closing and a sob escaping.
Will did his research before attending sessions with Dr. Lecter. Even though he was forced into the appointments under Jack’s instruction, he still wanted to know just why his boss had so much faith in this particular psychiatrist. Through word of mouth and online, there was an abundance of positive appraisal. Once a trauma surgeon, Dr. Lecter chose to start devoting his repair expertise to the mind instead of the body. Not only was he a reputable doctor, but he had published well-received scholarly journals. Had a specialty with healing subs after a broken claim. Had a high success rate with all types; the alpha of doms, diverse of bases, the meekest of subs. There were some outliers, cases where broken subs snapped while Lecter was their assigned doctor. In the most extreme case, a sub had killed the dom responsible for severing a claim.
Will knew those outliers weren’t arbitrary. Hannibal had all the resources. He made himself untouchable. Created a comfortable existence to do as he pleased.
“This is…” he swallowed, “a really bad idea. I’m- I’m not the sub you want.”
“You are exactly what I want. Even if we were not compatible, I would have still claimed you.”
“I’ve…never done this, Hannibal. I don’t know what to do. I won’t know. All my life I’ve suppressed-”
“Shh. Will.” he turned the other man on his back so he could see his face. “It’s all right. You’re perfect. Your instincts know what to do. Do not try to convince yourself this was a mistake.” A hint of his voice, his dom voice, lingered there. Hannibal tugged Will closer, resting the man’s forehead on his chest. “This was anything but.”
He listened to Will’s little breaths, felt the hot air roll down his bare stomach. “I’m going to provide for you. Protect and care for you.”
“I don’t…need taken care of. I can do that myself.” Will trembled slightly as Hannibal tightened his hold. He knew his argument was weak. For months he came to Hannibal, spoke to him in his office about that very issue. He admitted it would be healthier to present as a sub, knew he’d have less anxiety if he stopped denying himself, understood the benefits of finding a partner to give him what he needed. He just never realized Hannibal was steering that frame of mind.
“Stop lying.” Hannibal warned, “Tell me the truth.”
Will’s eyes slid shut. He felt like he had no weight to anchor him, like he was just wading in the water with no idea how to get back home.
“Come, let me hear it. Let us both hear the words.”
“I need to be a sub.” He whispered, slightly sinking. Hannibal held him, kissed the top of his head, tugging him close. Hannibal was his harbor now, was his home.
“You need to be my sub, Will.”
“Yours.” He confessed. “I need to be yours.”