7 ways to cook a human: part 3

[mayalaen]

Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannigram
Theme: 7 ways to cook a human in 5+1 6+1 style

7 Ways to Cook a Human
3. Deep Frying (to completely submerge food in hot fat)

“Will?”

Will tried to focus, but Jack’s voice was background noise.  It was an irritation, but it paled in comparison to the heat that was surrounding him and burning him alive from the inside out.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked.

Will shook his head, waving Jack off and resettling himself in Jack’s chair, unable to look Jack in the eye as the man sat calmly, watching him from across the desk.  “I’m fine,” he bit out.

Hannibal shifted in the chair next to him.  A casual observer would assume Hannibal was annoyed by the ridiculous display, but Will knew better.  Hannibal was loving every minute of it.

“So the, uhm,” Will said, sucking in a breath as the vibration started once more.  “This killer.  He, uhm, he.  He didn’t fit.  The profile.”

Jack squinted, leaning forward in his chair and visually dissecting Will’s every breath, his every move.  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Will was drowning.  He was burning and flying and crashing all at once, and Hannibal was the only one who knew why.  The only one who controlled every bit of it.

“I’m fine!” Will snapped.

Taken aback, Jack blinked at Will once, twice.  He gathered his composure.  “Okay, you’re fine.  Then why don’t you fill me in on why you think this killer doesn’t fit the profile.”

Jack was irritated.  It was easy enough to tell from his voice, but it wasn’t Jack’s voice that gave it away to Will so much as the small shift of Hannibal’s foot.  More like a twitch, to anyone who didn’t know him.  Those who knew him intimately wouldn’t call it a twitch any more than one would call a panther’s steadying wiggle before launching itself at its prey a twitch.

“Huh.”  Will couldn’t believe the noise came from him, but it did.  It wasn’t a questioning hum or a thoughtful noise.  It was punched out of him from deep inside his belly.

“I’m sorry?” Jack asked, grasping for clarification on the matter.

Will stood up so quickly that his cell phone, which he’d forgotten had been on his lap, was thrown against the front of Jack’s desk.  “I need to use the restroom,” Will said, trying to modulate his voice unsuccessfully as the vibration in his a/ss became something impossible to ignore.

He didn’t wait for permission or acknowledgement from either man in the room.  Didn’t stop to pick up his phone.  He limped his way to the nearest bathroom, throwing the door open, the door banging back against the wall as he stumbled into a stall and pushed the stall door closed, sweaty fingers slipping on the too-cold metal of the locking mechanism.

“F/uck you, Hannibal,” Will growled to himself as he yanked his shirt out of his slacks and fumbled for the zipper.  “F/uck you.  F/uck you.  You f/ucking-oh!”

The intensity of the vibration hit an all-time high, Hannibal likely changing it to the highest setting as he sauntered down the hallway, leaving Jack in his office, wondering what the f/uck was wrong with his consultant, but figuring he’d be in good hands with Hannibal taking care of him.

He was mistaken.  Jack was so wrong it wasn’t even funny.  Hannibal was killing him.  Tearing him apart from the inside out.  As Will stroked himself, leaning against the stall wall for support, sucking in each breath like it was his last, Hannibal made his presence known.

“F/uck you,” Will hissed through clenched teeth.

“Language,” Hannibal said, voice as calm as ever, the f/ucker.

“S/hit,” Will bit out as his knees started to give out.  He leaned harder against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

“A person of dignity would never use obscene language,” Hannibal scolded.

Will’s or/gasm took his breath away, and he thumped his head back against the stall door, gritting his teeth and squeezing his c/ock, watching his release hit the side of the bowl and the tile floor between his knees.  Two more strokes pushed the last of it out the tip, dribbling to the floor.

“Better?” Hannibal asked, smug as ever.

The vibrations in Will’s a/ss had stopped, but he couldn’t remember when.  He was grateful for the lack of continued stimulation.  He took a cleansing breath, then another before pulling himself up and tucking himself away, fixing his clothing.  One more cleansing breath and he unlocked the stall door and walked out of the stall, making his way to the sinks and washing his hands, ignoring Hannibal and the absurd, self-satisfied grin on the man’s face he didn’t need to see, but knew was there all the same.

“You’re cleaning it up,” Will said, shaking his wet hands off in the sink before strolling out of the restroom.</cut>