Title: Cocking It Up
Author: Saydria Wolfe
Word Count: 612
Warning: No beta, joking discussion of a sex cult
“Will Graham, meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
And Will honestly doesn’t know what to say. What do you do when you’re part of a secret cock-worshiping ‘cult’ and you suddenly meet someone you don’t officially know outside of the cult’s confines? ‘Oh, an introduction is not necessary. He was balls deep in me just last night!’ is probably not an appropriate answer to give the man that’s kind of your boss.
There should definitely be a handbook for this shit.
Will makes a mental note to ask Bedelia when he sees her tonight but in the meantime he does his best to ignore the man without being completely rude. It’s a strange line to walk but it’s Will’s favorite and, honestly, it’s what people expect from him.
He nods, accepts the handshake, and doesn’t make eye contact.
He doesn’t linger a little overlong holding the man’s hand and he definitely doesn’t glance at the man’s, uh, package. Or even in it’s general direction. He doesn’t.
He does look up to check Jack and finds the man looking very confused.
Will wants to reassure him but ‘Don’t worry he’s just the Left Hand/probable serial killer for the cult I joined,’ would put them right back in deep in the heart of inappropriate territory.
Fuck his life, seriously.
“How many dead girls?” Oh, thank god, Hannibal to the rescue.
“And how many confessions?” That rich, smokey, dark voice floats over to him as the doctor bends to examine the crime board.
Will has to sit down before he embarasses himself. God, just let him escape this with his dignity!
An erection is absolutely the worst thing he could get in front of his boss while looking at a crime board but all he can think of is getting his hands on that ass. Or, rather, the last time he had his hands on that ass. As Hannibal fucked his mouth. The man pulled his hair and fucking growled. It was so hot.
Will fights the flush he can feel trying to climb up his cheeks and focuses on his coffee. But then the viper of his brain strikes again and reflected in the coffee’s surface he can see that time with the mirror. Watching Hannibal’s back and ass and thighs flex and move while Hannibal fucks him, tireless and constant. Like a machine, it was-
Will can see the dead face of Elise Nichols watching from the background. Oh, god. She’s so disappointed. It’s- “Tasteless,” He scolds himself.
“Do you have problems with taste?” Hannibal asks earnestly and he regains his seat.
Will risks a glance. The bastard is laughing at him. Figures. “My thoughts are not often tasty.”
Which is false. His current thoughts are about Hannibal’s dick which he knows from experience is quite tasty. But this is not the time for that. Not even remotely.
“Nor mine. No effective barriers.”
Will’s confused. Barriers? They don’t use condoms. With their ranks in the cult- Oh. Wait. Right. Not that. “I build forts.”
“Associations come quickly.” But Hannibal doesn’t, thank god.
Will jerks his own mental leash. He needs to stay focused. He’s here for his job, not his… hobby. He needs to stay calm and focused and not embarrass himself. Especially not in front of Hannibal.
Not five minutes later Will storms out of the office, all over furious. His favorite dick is- Well, he’s a dick! See if he gets a piece of Will Graham ever again. That psychoanalyzing, psychotic fucker. Just wait! He will find out exactly what that ass’s damage is and turn him over the the FBI. See him psychoanalyzed for the rest of his life!
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