Chapter 1: Cold Feet
hannibal big bang prompt: "cold"
Warnings: none. it's fluff
" Frederick," Will gets out through gritted teeth.
The sleeping form next to him shifts, maybe onto its back; Will can’t tell in the darkness--it’s always darker outside in the winter. There is no moon outside to give a glimmer of a silhouette.
The lump of warm clothing and blankets grunts when Will pokes it.
" Fred, come on," Will whines. A head pokes out from under an arm. There’s a flash of teeth. Frederick is smiling. Is he still sleeping?
Frederick huffs when Will tries to push him away. ” Come on, babe, please,” Will pleads and Frederick finally blinks the veil of sleep from his eyes.
" I was sleeping," he pouts.
Will shucks the comforter from his body and glares pointedly at the pale feet that have somehow found their way to Will’s naked, and previously warm, thighs. ” And your feet are fucking freezing, sweetheart. Please put some socks on.”
Chapter 2: A Meeting
Cuban Bakery AU.
hannibalsketches sent me this message: AU where Frederick opens up a Cuban Bakery in downtown Baltimore, and its a huge success. He gets all sorts of customers (some highly renowned psychiatrists) and is sole provider of rosquillas (donuts) for the city police. But his life changes when Will Graham, the rookie, is forced to pick up an order one Monday morning.
Warnings: will is a clumsy bab
Will grumbles as he walks inside the small store. It’s before five and he’s exhausted—the sergeants like to keep him up till midnight doing paperwork and then make him go back out at dawn to fetch pastries and coffee for the department. Normally, he has another rookie with him. They’d go inside and pay. Will helped carry. If he was lucky, Will would be so buried in affidavits and permits that he wasn’t even selected to go get breakfast.
It was an unusual day.
Will is thankful for the police car, so he doesn’t have to fumble for change at the meter. Inevitably, he would have fumbled. Instead, his body betrays him on the small step up into the bakery. Even though there, of course, is a sign right in fucking front of him that reads “Mind The Step!” in a flowing hand.
The bell rings as Will face plants into the tile. He groans in agony and there’s a squeak of shoes. Will straightens his glasses, pushes himself to sit on his ass instead of being sprawled on his belly. His uniform must be a mess.
" Are you okay, Officer?" The voice is panicked and then a hand touches Will’s shoulder. He looks up sharply.
It’s the bakery owner, and he’s got a pressed, expensive oxford shirt on. The lavender sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and a starched apron is tied around his waist. There’s flour on his slacks, powdered lightly in the right side of his beard. Will isn’t able to restrain his smile. He stands, a bit unsteady on his feet.
" Yeah, uhm, I am. Thanks. What’s your name, again?" Will feels like an idiot, he’s been in here so many times. The man chuckles, and he only feels stupider.
" Frederick Chilton," he—Frederick—sticks his hand out in greeting. Will shakes it. The baker has a strong grip, calloused fingertips, and leaves a residue of powdered sugar on Will’s palm. " You’ve been in here before, Officer Graham."
Will blushes and nods dumbly. He turns away, moves to the counter. If he doesn’t get the pastries back in time he’s sure the paperwork on his desk will somehow multiply.
Frederick moves behind the counter and began to ring up the order. It’s just him in the morning, he's telling Will, with a really charming smile and Will feels butterflies in his stomach--why hadn’t he noticed that the baker was attractive earlier? He opens his mouth to say something, anything to try and prolong the minute or so he has left in the small, sweet-smelling shop. Make an impression, Will! ” Your rosquillas are amazing, really.”
" Oh, thank you, Officer Graham. The police department is very loyal, I’m glad you enjoy the pastries. I really appreciate your business." Frederick helps Will take the boxes out to the car and Will is startled by how close Frederick is standing to him once the car door is shut.
" Call me Will."
Frederick gives a devilish smile and Will thinks he might try coming in by himself more often.
" See you tomorrow morning, Will."
Chapter 3: Lunch with the Baker
Cuban Baker AU--part two
Warnings: Will is still an unbalanced pup
Will tapped his foot nervously against the weighted base of the table he sat at. The heel of his boot clicked against the black, textured metal. It was just past one in the afternoon.
Frederick had said that he was going to be out of the bakery around noon after his last batch of pastries were out of the oven. He could trust the rest of the staff to close by themselves. Will knew, in the back of his mind, that there was probably a logical explanation for his tardiness. Maybe someone hadn’t showed up for their shift, or somehow the baked goods had been destroyed. Still, Will felt his stomach roiling and the nerves in his forearm jerking as he flexed his fists. What if he had made the wrong jumps in thinking? Maybe Frederick didn’t really want the same things.
They had been talking more regularly for about a month now. When Will came in by himself—which was often—Frederick made passes at him. Small, flirtatious sentiments and fleeting touches to his bicep, forearm, and back. He’d finally gotten the courage to ask the baker out for lunch a week ago.
The door chimed and Will’s head snapped up like clockwork. He had been glancing at every person that walked into the bistro for the last half hour. A grin spread across his face when he saw that it was Frederick.
He had a gray scarf wrapped about his mouth to shield his skin from the dry winds that had been whipping around outside. His coat was a deep black, and looked like soft wool. There was a smattering of flour on the left sleeve. Frederick’s hair was swept back away from his forehead, not just from gel this time. Will thought he looked like a model of sorts.
After turning to look in the wrong corner of the cafe, Frederick finally caught sight of Will. The rookie smiled sheepishly, trying not to look too excited as he stumbled out of his chair. His foot got caught on the chair leg and he steadied himself with the table. Will berated himself internally for his clumsiness. How the hell was he ever going to move up in the department if he couldn’t get out of a chair without tripping?
“ You look well, Officer. I missed you yesterday morning,” Frederick said silkily. Will looked down at his uniform, a bit embarrassed. He managed to get a two hour lunch break today, but at the price of having to be on call the previous morning. Will was hoping to maybe walk out to the park with Frederick, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. They would have to settle for eating inside.
“ Sorry, Frederick, I had some work to do. I did manage to snag some of your cooking, though. The coffee we have is crap, but I don’t know what a morning without your pastries is.” Frederick grinned, so Will kept talking. “ You’re going to make me fat, you know that?”
The baker folded his gloves carefully inside his pocket before shedding coat and scarf, leaving him in a pastel blue button down and grey slacks. Will wondered if the man ever wore hoodies and sweatpants. He would probably still look cute.
“ Wouldn’t hurt you to gain a little bit of weight, Will.” Frederick lightly touched the small of his back, guiding them to the counter to order. Will’s mouth parted, but he couldn’t speak. He hadn’t been wrong, because deft fingers made small circles on his flesh, kneading where pressure built up in his spine. Frederick probably looked godly working and shaping dough until it resembled what he desired. Will wouldn’t mind being treated similarly.
They ordered meals of sandwiches and soup. Will got a coffee--he knew that he was running on fumes.
Frederick sat next to Will instead of across from him. It was intimate, bumping elbows and sharing sideways glances. Their food came and they ate in amicable silence. When Will was down to the dregs of his coffee, Frederick was looking at him expectantly.
“ I’d like to see you more than just in the morning for pick ups.”
Will was surprised by the bluntness. Frederick looked completely serious, plate pushed to the side and a hand offered with palm upturned. Will took it, his fingertips grazing the heel. “ I would like that. But are you sure that you want to get involved with this? With me? I’m just a rookie at the department.”
He felt compelled to spill all of his secrets. Will had problems sleeping and often woke up in places very different from where he fell asleep, had too many dogs, didn’t really even know how to cook. When he glanced back at Frederick, Will was surprised to find him looking genuinely curious.
“ It would be narrow not to at least consider it.”
Chapter 4: Heavy Whipping Cream
Cuban Bakery AU: Now with more spice!
Hannibal Big Bang Mini Prompt: " Touch"
Warnings: Slight food kink, references to oral sex
Will spread his fingers, feeling a childish delight bubble inside his chest. The powdered sugar sifted in between his digits, back into the bowl. He angled his palm away from himself, and the remaining flecks joined their brethren. Will turned back to Frederick with a grin, rubbing his hands together so the dust clouded up between them.
“ Feel the difference between these two,” the baker offered, replacing the plastic bowl with two ceramic ones. One was olive in color, the other rust. They had obviously been shaped by hand, fired with care. The glazes shone in the bright, artificial light of the kitchen. Frederick nudged Will towards the counter top again, away from him.
This time, soft fabric was wrapped around his eyes.
Will was guided to put a hand in each bowl. The substances were nearly similar in texture. He pressed his palms deeper, until it became apparent that one was grittier than the other. “ Flour, but this one’s whole wheat, or organic, but the left is…it’s the enriched stuff,” Will smiled, raising his hand up from the bowl he’d just described. “ The stuff that’s in my pantry.”
The fabric was dimpled and slightly coarse about the edges. Will figured it was a tea towel. Frederick didn’t remove it, and Will was turned again. He was facing the open area in between the counter-tops, to where Frederick was supposed to be standing.
“ I’m sure you use it often,” Frederick said sarcastically around a laugh. There was a soft brush of stubble against Will’s neck, a huff of warm breath that drifted beneath the collar of his uniform.
It was warm in the kitchen, heat emanating from the ovens. Will could feel sweat beading on his forehead, anticipation rising in his throat. He wasn’t going to be touching ingredients anymore, but Frederick seemed to want him blind for the moment. Despite his training, the urge to have control of all of his senses, Will would give it to the other man.
Their relationship was young, the trust fragile. Will was a rookie at the police department who spent the majority of his lunch breaks visiting this enticing baker. He’d bring Frederick a sandwich, or even leftovers of his own cooking. They would sit on the back stoop of the bakery, legs swaying and jaws working. Both were short on time, at a loss for words.
But there were rare days, like today, where Will could get more than an hour off. Frederick would have Will help him stir batters, occasionally they would walk to the pond a block away. Will was always conscious of the looks they got when their fingers intertwined. A cop in uniform with a well dressed civilian. Frederick’s fingers always left a residue on his own, his cheeks, his shirt and pants.
This exercise was just another way to express that he trusted the baker.
” Blind me? Sure, why not, Fred?,” he’d said the day before. Frederick had offered to explain to him some of the differences in the ingredients, but wanted to blindfold him for some of them. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“ Frederick?” Will called. It had been nearly four minutes by his count. He wiped sweaty palms on his starched slacks, trying to piece together what exactly the other man was doing. Will could hear the slip resistant shoes treading on the floor.
A few buttons of his shirt were undone. There was a cold touch of metal against his chest, and then his undershirt was parting as well. Frederick was cutting it! “ Seriously? You could’ve just asked me to—”
Will stopped talking, because the new sensation was colder this time. He shivered, feeling goosebumps raise around the cool, round object. It was silky smooth, and quickly engulfed by something warm and wet.
“ Fuck,” Will whined, realizing that Frederick was kissing his skin. His tongue followed, clearing a sticky residue.
“ Heavy whipping cream,” Frederick informed him. “ And now, with sugar.”
There was another drop of the cold, this time in the hollow of his throat. Will could feel the whisk dragging against his skin. The substance was grittier this time.
Frederick lapped the whipped cream from his neck with broad strokes of his tongue. Will couldn’t help the thin moan that found it’s way between his teeth. He understood now why Frederick had closed the shop for lunch instead of letting one of the cashiers man the front.
A finger pressed to Will’s lips, and he engulfed it. His tongue swirled about the digit, removing any trace of the sweet cream with a final suck. The blindfold was suddenly tugged from his eyes.
Will winced at the light, pupil’s dilating quickly in response. Frederick grinned up at him from where his fingers were working at Will’s belt.
“ Trust me?” Frederick looked hesitant now. He didn’t want to push Will’s limits.
Will was quickly realizing that with Frederick, he had no limits. There was no part of him that had restricted access, and he was more than okay with it. He nodded, and there was a rustle of fabric followed by the cool edge of the stainless steel workspace pressed against his thighs. “ Fuck, yes.”
Chapter 5: Safe Place
Frederick remembers what Will gave him, once.
Hannibal Big Bang Mini Prompt: "Happy Place"
The tile was growing warm now against Frederick’s back while the water turned cold. His fingers had began to wrinkle minutes ago. His hair was still dry. He was going to shower, that was the plan. Get out of the clothes he’d been in all day, clean up. He’d have to change the dressing on his face, carefully apply the ointment that would help with the scarring. He would get dressed and then go back to the goddamn hospital. That was the plan.
But then Frederick had turned on his Pandora, had stepped into the shower that wasn’t his own, and he had lost it. He slid to the floor, and had let the scalding water pound against his chest, had offered his palms in pleading. His sobs created a rhythm, drowning out the sound of music, the pattering of water, the dogs snuffling on the other side of the door. Frederick felt struck with a sudden bout of deja vu.
He’d been been the one drenched in blood that cold afternoon. He’d come to Will’s house, and he had been in this same shower. He had been on the same tiles, crying in the same rhythm. The dogs hadn’t worried about him back then. There had been no music. He was a foreigner.
Will had entered cautiously. Will hadn’t said anything negative. Will hadn’t said anything at all. Frederick didn’t look at him, but didn’t attempt to hide himself. Will helped him to his feet. Will helped him wash Hannibal Lecter’s deeds from his body.
When the last wisp of reddened water had rushed down the drain, they had dried off. Frederick fell asleep on the couch in front of a fire. He woke up with his head in Will’s lap and a hand gently tousling his hair, tugging at the roots. Will believed him and Frederick was swathed in jeans and a sweatshirt that weren’t his own, that smelled vaguely of the ocean. Frederick was completely swaddled by the warmth and comfort that Will offered him. That Frederick had so cruelly denied the profiler during his stay at the BSHCI. He didn’t deserve this level of acceptance. This care.
It hadn’t lasted long, not more than fifteen minutes. Will was definitely treating him like one of his strays, had given him up to animal control only to be shot.
But Frederick felt a tightness in his chest, a sob caught in his throat at the memory of those well-trained fingers in his hair. When he felt like their lives were spiraling out of control, moving far away from normalcy, he could remember the grounded state he’d been in with Will’s fingers holding him safe.
Who was going to be the one that washed Will of Hannibal Lecter’s guilt? Who had scrubbed him of blood, had offered him comfort while shoving his entrails back within his peritoneal cavity? How could they cure Will of the infection that was Hannibal, already proliferating so deeply inside his body?
Frederick roused himself, stood, and stepped out of the shower. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t clean. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t ready to speak, he just had to be there for Will. Frederick had to give him a new safe place. He had to ground the empath, in a way that IV’s and colostomy bags, vital checks and a respirator wouldn’t.
He thought of callouses brushing his scalp when he finally stepped out of Will’s house, determined to eradicate Hannibal Lecter from their future.
Chapter 6: A Burned Dinner
Will wears panties and burns dinner.
lilaclecter said: "You burnt the Mac n cheese!!" Chillywilly (not exactly a prompt)
Warnings: crossdressing, will can't do domestic things
Will was admittedly nervous about trying to coerce Frederick into their little game again. He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet in front of the stove, waiting for the dogs to alert him of the doctor’s return, followed by the tell-tale creak of the front door to his house. His forearm was working in a steady rhythm, stirring a mixture of cheese and pasta.
It was Sunday, and in the afternoons Frederick always went out to the store to get them a nice bottle of wine and pick up a copy of the paper. They’d settled into a nice routine after Frederick had fully grafted himself into Will’s life.
The only problem with the routine, with both of them going back to work, was the lack of time they had alone together. Will was spending a bit too much time trying to get a lead on Hannibal in the evenings, and Frederick walking the dogs. Most of the time, they were both exhausted at the end of the day.
Will was determined to spark something in Frederick tonight. The dogs could wait, the Ripper could wait.
He had slipped into the navy panties again, and Will would be lying if he’d said that he didn’t admire the way that the lace framed the swell of his ass. He felt confident, he wanted Frederick to see him. It had been a difficult task to get his erection to subside. There was a dark, sticky stain left on the cotton.
Will was getting aroused just thinking about Frederick looking him over, seeing the evidence of his anticipation. His eyes were hooded, the rocking of his feet turning into a gentle undulation of his hips.
He completely missed the dogs barking and the door in sore need of WD-40.
“ Missed me?,” came the whisper into his ear, hot breath on his neck and hands gripping onto his hips. Will nearly jumped out of his skin..
“ Mmhm…thought I’d jog your mem—” Will was trying to be sensuous in his slow words, but Frederick made a distressed noise.
He looked with horror at where the movement of his wrist had ceased some time ago. Smoke was rising into the hood above the range. Will looked back at Frederick, who seemed extremely disappointed.
“ You burned the mac n’ cheese!”
Will wasn’t entirely sure his surprise would make up for the hurt evident on Frederick’s face.
Chapter 7: But Home Is Nowhere
Frederick is released from the hospital. He can't go home.
Anonymous said: What about a ChillyWilly one where Fredrick gets out of jail and goes straight to Wills because he can't stand going back home? Pretty please?
Frederick’s pupils constricted at the bright sunlight and his gooseflesh rose on his arms. His skin was unused to the warmth that came with the sun’s rays. He’d spent nearly a week in custody, and then another three in the hospital. Artificial light had gotten tiresome.
There was a taxi waiting for him. Frederick wasn’t sure where to go, really. His home was a crime scene. The pristine, white decor had undoubtedly been rendered the color of rust after being bathed in blood. How was he to walk his halls without seeing the amputated Abel Gideon and impaled FBI agents?
So Frederick went the last place he’d been, before he’d been wrongfully arrested.
The snow that he had ran so fruitlessly through nearly a month ago had melted. Will Graham’s drive was muddy and the taxi drive up was bumpy. He paid the cabbie and stood with a bag in each hand, unsure of how to approach this situation.
His car was still parked near the dilapidated shed in the distance. He could just hop in it and drive, go far away, but what would that do for him? There would be no closure, and he’d never feel safe.
Will had been offered the same fate: death by Hannibal Lecter’s hand. Frederick’s pass with mortality had been indirect, but the manipulation of Miriam Lass and the FBI were all on Hannibal.
Will was still in the hospital, while Frederick had walked free. Frederick was awake, while Will laid in a medically induced coma.
He made his way up the two steps to the wrap-around porch. The door was ajar, dogs presumably taken by animal control. Frederick felt guilt winding its way through his stomach, remembering the way that the dogs had lapped the blood from his skin before. Will had provided him with a shower.
There was an obligation here, to make up his treatment of Will at the BSHCI. Despite all that Frederick had done, Will understood what he was going through and Will had let him inside.
He was suddenly overcome with emotion, because Will was alone in the hospital, his friends dead or in a similar state. When Frederick stepped inside, he saw that Will had left his home in disarray, so he could catch the Ripper. He had nearly been killed in the process, and was being repaid with his belongings in evidence bags and his dogs adopted by various people. Frederick wanted to right all the wrongs that had been done to the profiler.
With his bags set in the foyer, Frederick shakily searched for his old car keys. First, to visit Will again, to get a progress report. Then, Frederick would make his way to the shelter. He wondered if the dogs would be receptive to him without the blood. He hoped that somehow, everything would end up okay.
Chapter 8: Skinny Jeans
Will goes to surprise Frederick at the bakery, but ends up being the one surprised.
Anonymous said: Chilton X Will established relationship prompt: Chilton casually wearing skinny jeans and Will complimenting them.
Warnings: possessive Will, frederick's butt in tight jeans
Will’s superiors had given him a strange look when he offered to pick up breakfast for the department on a Friday morning. He was no longer a rookie, this wasn’t his duty.
However, it had been six months since he and Frederick had started dating. He had flowers--fiery orange tiger lilies interspersed with ivory orchids and mini white daisies--across the passenger seat of his cruiser and he was determined to surprise the baker.
It was early, just past six, and Will entered the front of the bakery with confidence. He held the bouquet with one hand behind his back, not immediately seeing Frederick behind the counter. Normally he was waiting with the boxes to be picked up--or maybe that had just been when Will was the courier.
Will stepped up closer, about to call out when he saw his lover, bent over trying to get a baking sheet from a low shelf. Frederick’s legs were spread shoulder length apart, denim-covered ass high in the air. The dark blue fabric was tight around his flesh, accentuating the curve of his cheeks. Will nearly dropped the flowers. His mouth was dry when he cleared his throat.
“ One second!,” came the flustered reply to his impatience. After a crash of metal, Will heard Frederick make a triumphant noise and saw the line of his spine straighten up. The baker stretched, cat-like, and turned. His green eyes went wide, lips parted to reveal a bright smile.
“ Will! What’re you doing here?” Frederick came around the counter, and Will let out a breath that he had apparently been holding at the sight of him. He had on a v-neck sweater, the gray wool brushed white with flour where it had been rolled up to his elbows. The jeans that Will had admired earlier were even tighter in the front. An involuntary, frustrated grunt left his mouth.
“ Well, I’ve come to wish you a happy anniversary,” he smiled, stepping closer. There was no one else in the shop. Will offered up the bundle of flowers, his grin widening at Frederick’s pleased gasp. “ And pick up breakfast, but I didn’t know you would be wearing those. “ Will took another step in, so that their torsos were brushing against one another. “ God, Fred, you look fucking hot in those tight pants. What if it was someone else who saw that ass in the air, though? Hmm?”
He was breathing into the baker’s ear, tasting vanilla on the lobe. When Will bit down, Frederick glanced nervously at the window. “ Now you’re worried about someone seeing you, dear?”
Will knew that Frederick loved when he was possessive, adored being coveted by someone. The baker trembled as Will reached behind to massage his ass through the fabric. When he felt the press of the other’s arousal against his thigh, Will finally pulled away. Frederick whined, and Will shushed him with a chaste kiss. “ Save it for tonight, hon.”
Frederick shook his head, exasperated, watching as Will gathered up the boxes of pastries. When he spoke, it was more to himself than the cop sauntering out of the shop.
“ It was casual Friday.”
Chapter 9: S'mores
Frederick and Will go camping
for hannibalsketches who texts me wonderful ideas all the time <3
Warnings: alcohol, drunk old men, mentions of sexual activity
Will felt giddy laughter bubble deep in his throat. The night sky was bright with stars and the fire that he’d built an hour ago was still steadily crackling. He stood, stumbled over a prominent tree root, and grabbed another log to place atop the blaze.
“ Why are you smothering it, hmm?”
The profiler slipped back into his comfortable lounge chair, grinning at Frederick. “ It’ll be fine, Fred.”
The orange glow was lighting up his lover’s face, illuminating the crow’s feet about his eyes from smiling, painting his gray t-shirt a hue of yellow. Frederick scrunched up his face in a childish manner before reaching to the the pop-up table between them, for the mason jar that sat half-full.
“ Nope, no more for you,” Will grabbed the container away, laughing again. “ You’ll go blind, love. I don’t think you were made to be drinking moonshine.” He looked pointedly at the way that the psychiatrist was slouching in his seat, ignoring the grumpy face.
“ Will--” Frederick whined, sitting up. He underestimated the movement, and ended up kneeling in the dirt. Will gave him a triumphant look, and then grinned.
“ How about something better?” He pulled a bag of marshmallows from the cooler, setting them on the table. Frederick had shifted onto his ass in the dust, still smiling goofily, but he was laughing now too. He sidled up closer to the warmth of the fire, grabbing a long, skinny stick from the pile of brush they’d collected earlier in the evening.
“ Y’know, Will, this is the only reason I came. You promised me s’mores. I haven’t had one since...well, I can’t remember. But I’d suffer spider bites and and no showering for one.” He was rambling, thoughtfully piercing three marshmallows with the end of the limb. When Frederick placed the puffed sugar directly above the flame, Will shook his head.
He moved to the ground beside his lover, wrapping his hands about Frederick’s. “ Over the coals, love. If you put them above the flame it’ll take forever, or you’ll end up catching them on fire.”
Frederick made a thoughtful noise and leaned back against Will’s chest. The doctor was like dead weight, but Will was capable of holding him up as well as maneuvering the stick. Will nuzzled into his neck, finding the smell of bug spray instead of expensive cologne. The skin was sticky with dried sweat and the faintest scent of smoke clung to his t-shirt. Being on the edge of the forest together, by the water, suited Frederick. Being uninhibited by social constructs and having his tongue loosened by bootleg moonshine only made him sweeter. Will was committing every twitch of muscle, every unencumbered mannerism to memory. Frederick had always been beautiful when coming undone.
“ Will, are they done?”
The doctor had gently elbowed Will in between the ribs, so he rubbed his side with one hand, while the other brought the stick close to them. The marshmallows were lightly toasted, likely molten inside. He shifted out from behind Frederick and turned back to the table, pressing each between a sandwich of chocolate and graham cracker to slide them off the stick.
Will propped the stick up against his chair and turned to sit back in the dirt, next to Frederick now. He had the three s’mores in his lap. “ You first, this is what you came here for,” he insisted, handing the first one over.
Frederick looked at Will sweetly, smiling and shaking his head. “ I came here for you, silly,” he reminded, taking the s’more gratefully and giving it a curious look, like he didn’t know where to bite in. Perhaps some of his old habits were kicking in, trying to be polite and clean, but there was really no way to attack these without getting melted chocolate and bits of marshmallow on your face. Will knew that well enough.
Still Frederick tried, taking a small bite into a corner. The cracker crumbled into his mouth, leaving bits in his beard. Will grinned, watching as the doctor licked chocolate and viscous sugar from his lips. There was a fleck of chocolate in the corner of his mouth after the fact, but Frederick’s eyes were closed in happiness, a contented hum coming from his throat.
“ Yeah? That good?” Will took a large bite out of his own, savoring the taste. It was childhood, memories of nights spent with his father. He was eager to make new associations, to allow Frederick further into his life. He was almost done when his lover snatched the other s’more out of his lap. Will laughed openly, freely in this space, when he looked over to see that there was even more chocolate smeared across Frederick’s lips now. The other had apparently given up on cleaning himself.
They finished off the sweets and Will leaned over to kiss the remnants from Frederick’s mouth, swiping his tongue greedily over the other’s. There was a subtle burn of moonshine remaining on his palate and Will drank it in, crawling over the doctor until he was straddling the other man, pinning him into the dirt. The fire radiated warm against his back, where Will could feel his shirt riding up and shorts hanging low.
He pushed his hips into Frederick’s, dipping down to smother the moans that were reverberating between the trees. “ That good?,” he asked again, lips hovering the other’s in promise.
“ Please, Will,” Frederick gasped, pupils blown with lust and alcohol, sugar and desire.
Will hopped up from his place, a bit unsteady, and reached down to grab Frederick’s hand, pulling him upright. “ Tent,” he assured when a whine came from those reddened, spit-wet lips. Knowing they wouldn’t make it back out, Will hurriedly packed the food and drink into their cooler, locking it so animals wouldn’t drag out their stores during the night. He folded up their chairs and leaned them against the trunk of a nearby tree, snickering as he heard Frederick struggling with the zip of the tent.
“ Will, I can’t get this stupid fucking--”
“ I know, lemme,” Will took the zipper into his fingers, tugged the snag in the fabric and slid the flap open with a wink. Frederick had that grumpy look back on his face as he ducked inside, immediately falling to his back on top of the blankets. He looked expectant. Will wasn’t going to deny him.
Frederick woke with a pounding headache, to the smell of something delicious. He glanced over to where Will should be, but found the spot cold. There was a pull at his bladder, so he stumbled out of the tent, momentarily feeling triumphant at how easily he’d opened the flap.
Will was stoking the fire, a metal grill arranged over the flames. He smiled fondly at where Frederick stumbled out to relieve himself behind a tree.
“ What do you look so smug for?,” Frederick teased, gratefully taking the cup of coffee offered to him. He glanced at where sausages were being grilled and a cast iron skillet was sizzling eggs, stomach growling noisily.
“ I just love you.” Will looked entirely sincere, pressing a chaste kiss to where Frederick was blushing. He was still unfamiliar with the affection that the profiler showed him. “ Did you enjoy last night?” The cheeky grin was back.
Frederick smiled, thinking about their passionate kissing, the way that Will had gone down on him with wide eyes, and then...then? He couldn’t remember. Maybe Will was right, he shouldn’t have drank that much. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “ Well, now you can say ‘I told you so’. I don’t, ah, remember everything.” Trying to make up for his failing memory, he winked. “ Fill me in?”
Will was frowning, or trying to. The corners of his lips were quirking upwards and Frederick felt a bit embarrassed, was Will laughing at him? He was feeling entirely insecure by the time that an actual chuckle did escape from his lover’s lips.
“ Oh, god, Fred, don’t be upset, really,” Will was wiping a tear from his eyes. “ We fell asleep, love. Two old drunk men, trying to fuck and falling asleep.” He was still laughing, shaking his head and turning the sausages.
Frederick snorted himself, shoving Will playfully. “ Don’t let me doubt myself, you asshole.” He smiled, glad that they were here, together.
Will looked a bit guilty now, so he leaned away from breakfast to kiss Frederick again. “ How about we try again, tonight, moonshine not included?”
The food was plated and Frederick cut his eggs and sausage, feigning contemplation. He set down fork and knife, looking seriously at Will. “ One caveat: I still want s’mores.”
Chapter 10: An Inspiration
Holocaust AU. I apologize.
Warnings: Major Character death, rape (mentioned), antisemitism, homophobia, homophobic slurs,
“ You’re not dying.”
Frederick opened his eyes and Will could see the amount of effort it took now. His chest tightened painfully at the realization. The burning in his nose and eyes reached a peak. Tears rolled down his skin, clearing a path in the dirt that clung to it.
When Frederick moved to shake his head, Will stilled him with an unsteady hand. His fingers shook with the same frequency that his lips trembled. “ Save your energy,” he whispered and the words came out hoarse. It had been awhile since he last had the chance to drink water. Most of his rations had gone to Frederick, ever since he’d come back to their bunk just under a week ago beaten.
The skin that hadn’t been broken open or covered in dried blood was mottled purple and dark brown with bruises. Frederick hadn’t been able to walk and the thin fabric covering his shins had been ripped as he was dragged through the dirt by a kapo, dropped unceremoniously on the ground outside their block. Jimmy and Brian had helped Will bring him back to the wooden pallet they shared for warmth. Some of the other men offered up their extra scraps of fabric to tie off the still bleeding wounds. Will was too weak, hysterical. Jimmy finished the job while he sat at Frederick’s head, roughened pads of his fingers swiping over the bald scalp. He wiped away a stream of blood.
Frederick’s eyes had opened then, too.
“ I love you.” He stared directly at Will. His left eye was nearly swollen shut. A chill ran through Will’s frame and he grasped for Frederick’s hand, squeezing it tight. He could feel the bones beneath skin and sinew.
“ You are not dying,” Will had insisted. Frederick smiled. He slept for half a day.
They were all thin and starving, but Brian and Jimmy donated half of their rations each. Will gave nearly all of his, convinced that if Frederick just got enough energy, he would heal. For a few days, he seemed to get better. The bruises yellowed, his wounds stopped leaking so much. He would speak frequently, ask Will if he’d seen Hannibal Lecter anywhere.
Will would lie, because he couldn’t bear for Frederick to know that his sacrifice was in vain. If anything, Hannibal was more vicious now that he knew that someone else cared for Will, another prisoner with a pink triangle upon their breast. He taunted Will about his lack of protector, boasted about his ability to murder a Schwule, the words breathed hotly over the back of Will’s neck as he was raped.
Frederick always managed a smile when Will said that he’d managed to go another day without running into Hannibal.
On the fourth day, Frederick could barely open his eyes. Will had left to do his work in the fields and returned to find the doctor sweating profusely, his skin pallid and clammy. He was burning up.
While Will frantically began to wash the sweat from Frederick’s skin, ringing cool water over his forehead and the inside of his wrists, a single word escaped chapped lips.
Will hesitated momentarily, shook his head, and continued his work. “ You are not dying.”
His backside throbbed painfully. Blood trickled down the inside of his thigh. Every fifteen minutes, he ran a cool washcloth over Frederick’s pulse points. The heartbeat fluttered under thin skin.
The next day, Will woke to an unsavory smell. It was not the usual stink of the latrines, the odor of too many bodies packed together. Death. Frederick’s heartbeat was sluggish when Will felt for it. His mouth felt like cotton, there was something stinging his eyes, and his limbs were leaden. The atrophied muscles didn’t lend him much help as he tried to sit Frederick up, clear his airways. He just needed some fresh air, it was always so stuffy in the blocks.
“ Wach auf, Frederick. Bitte.” Will gently shook his shoulders. Wake up. Please.
The eyes strained to open and he repeated his words. Every day, Will had told Frederick he wasn’t dying. This was the first time he lied. “ I’m so sorry.”
Frederick twitched his fingers in Will’s grasp. A squeeze. “ Love you.” His words were thick and slurred. Will’s breathing stuttered and shook. The tears fell faster.
Will remembered how Frederick had been embarrassed by his insolence when they first entered the labor camp. He had loved the flustered looks on those aristocratic cheeks. When Will had first limped back to their bunk after being raped by Hannibal Lecter, catatonic with shock, Frederick was the one to give him support until he regained his voice. Each time thereafter, Frederick had been his source of comfort. It started with him just being present, but evolved platonically, and then romantically. Frederick held Will when he cried, kissed away the shame of being a piece of meat for the very men that had imprisoned them. Who was going to ease his suffering now that Frederick was leaving him alone in this place?
His shaking huffs for air turned to sobs as the fingers went limp in his palm. It was time to report for assignment. The block was empty. Will wailed until his pain shifted from a pointed throb in his chest to a radiating ache throughout his body. His face was reddened, more colored than it had been in months. He wiped the dripping snot from his skin to his sleeve and straightened Frederick’s body.
Will eventually began clearing the blood from Frederick’s skin, cleaning his body and clothing of fluids as best as he could. He was aware that his lover’s body would be burnt, that his once handsome, now gaunt face would disappear as ash in the wind. This body was no longer Frederick.
With no regard for being late to his position, Will took his time saying a prayer and whispering to the corpse. He pressed a kiss to its forehead and remembered the first time that Frederick had done the same to him.
“ You’re an inspiration,” Frederick assured Will after he confessed feeling like a whore. Surely all of the other prisoners knew what Will was, what Hannibal Lecter called him away from his duties for.
Frederick curled a hand around the back of Will’s head and kissed his nose, each cheek, and then his forehead. “ It’s not your fault, Will. You are brave.”
Will didn’t feel brave now, either. He ran his thumb over Frederick’s cheek, feeling the contours of his skull beneath stretched skin. Frederick had been shipped to the camp because he was a homosexual. When the Nazis took him from his home, they found seven children, Jews and Poles, that he had been hiding. Two others had been smuggled away to Switzerland beforehand. He had been a pediatrician.
Frederick had tried to save Will, too. He had interfered when Hannibal last attempted to take Will back to a tool shed. He had died, so that Hannibal couldn’t rape Will.
Will hated most of all that Frederick’s sacrifices had been for naught.
“ You’re an inspiration,” he whispered, and stepped outside to flag down a kapo.
Chapter 11: Stolen
Demon AU: Will wants to get rid of his empathy, Frederick loves to steal the souls of mortals.
It's a pleasant surprise to both of them when being together is all they ever needed.
@hannibalsketches fault, per usual.
we have too many au's, i have too many responsibilities.
Warnings: Anal sex, Anal gaping, size kink, will's slutty ass
Arousal had pooled deeply in the empty cavern of Frederick’s chest, painting his tanned flesh a flushed red. The feeling grew, spread to his limbs, as far as toes and fingertips, filling him up, muddying his mind. As the sensation moved, lighting his nerves, the color expanded as well. White skin colored, a deep maroon pigmenting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Will didn’t care, barely acknowledged the change.
Frederick pressed his heels into his mortal lover’s mattress, grunting as the warm mouth slid deeper over the length of his erection. He could feel the sensitive skin of his horns exposed against the dank air, his tail pressed between his buttocks and the rumpled duvet. Now, Will noticed the change, raising his face from where it’d been buried between Frederick’s legs.
The human smirked, a mischievous look gracing his delicate, soft features. Will climbed up Frederick’s torso, cool hands against his warm body. Those same hands came to grip the protrusion of his horns, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the scalp behind them. Frederick groaned, muttered under his breath, and leaned in to kiss Will hard, without abandon.
Will was not the first mortal to enter his embrace, nor the first to see him stripped of his human disguise. However, Will was the first to demand their love making happened when he was in this form.
Frederick still awed at how lucky he was, to have been graced with this caring being, one that had begged so sweetly for his overwhelming empathy to be taken away, had offered his soul in return. As a demon, Frederick could take souls, gladly harvested them for himself, and his master when requested.
But Will had been different. It was rare that Frederick encountered one so desperate to sell their humanity, he conned most into the deal. Not only the circumstances surrounding the exchange, but what Will's half of the agreement was, had truly startled Frederick.
Empathy, the most human of emotions, manifested in a seemingly pure form in this beautiful man. He wanted to be rid of it, told Frederick of how he was used for this so called “gift”, the nightmares and hallucinations, tears dripping down his pale cheekbones all the while. Frederick wasn’t pleased by this sadness, didn’t thrive on the suffering of this creature. He found himself trying to convince the shaking man that his ability was indicative of his purity, his wholesomeness.
Will wanted it removed, still. Frederick refused. The two were at a stalemate, a demon who admired a mortal, one with an important, defining trait, and that mortal who required a magical process to rid himself of said characteristic.
Will offered himself, more than his soul. Frederick was a weak beast.
The first time, Frederick had appeared human, retained his cover. He claimed Will, bit down on his flesh in visible areas, and came harder than he thought possible when with someone from Earth.
Frederick rolled to face Will, opened his eyes to see wide, blue eyes, under dark curls.
“ You’re quiet.”
Frederick snorted, rolled his eyes. “ Well, I wouldn’t really say that.”
“ No,” Will started again, shaking his head. He was smiling, and it made Frederick’s skin tingle. “ I can’t read you, at all. It’s like static, white noise.”
“ I’m not human,” Frederick pointed out.
Will didn’t stop smiling. They hardly left the man’s bed for the next day.
Will was grinding down onto him, bare skin sliding to create a pleasant heat.
“ I want you inside,” Will murmured against the shell of his ear. Frederick felt his cock throb in response. He had lengthened considerably, his width grown. Will didn’t shy away from that either.
Ass around Frederick’s member, Will was undulating and moaning. The sound was high, keening. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t have enough self control around this mortal. He took handfuls of the plump flesh, squeezed and pulled the cheeks apart. Will whimpered, pressed back harder.
“ Do you?” Frederick countered.
Will had taken him before, like this. With enough prep, some numbing and healing salves, it was pleasurable for him, as close to heaven as Frederick would ever know.
The friction was maddening, Frederick’s grip on Will tightening, pulling him down harder. He paused enough to hear Will beg again, and then pushed two fingers inside Will’s wet heat.
No resistance, from the amount of times that they’d done this. Three was met with clenching muscles, bouncing of hips. Frederick liked to take Will this way, the man astride his lap, riding and grinding, making his own pleasure.
Will liked it too, crying out for more, grasping at Frederick’s wrist to push more digits inside.
“ You’re still tight,” Frederick growled against his jaw, sharp teeth nipping at stubbled skin. Four made Will’s breath hitch, discomfort seizing his stature. He could alleviate the stinging pain, but Will enjoyed this, the burn of stretching.
He watched Will arch his back, expose the line of his neck. Long fingers gripped his thighs, arms straight to bear the weight.
“ For you,” Will gasped, eyes closed, his lashes fluttering with the sensation. Frederick scissored his digits, to watch the reaction it elucidated. His lover’s cock twitched, fluid tacky against his stomach. “ Always.”
Five was too much for Will, for now, and Frederick removed his hand, wet with lube he’d conjured throughout. Fingertips grazed over Will’s exposed gape, tapping the well opened hole to feel dripping liquid.
“ You’re right, Will.” Frederick spread him, brought their hips together fully. “ All of you, for me.”
The head of his cock began to breach Will, and Frederick slowed the process. His fingers moved to rub along the rim of the other man’s hole, swollen around him. Muscles twitching, sending hot pleasure lancing up his spine. Will was scrabbling at his chest, tears in his eyes even as he shoved back against Frederick’s grip.
“ Come on,” the profiler begged.
Frederick pressed the anesthetic into Will’s stretched, puffy skin through the pads of his fingers, listened for the quieting of cries to needy whines, and released Will, to take what he wanted.
“ And I’m all yours.”
Their eyes met, an intense moment where Will focused on him, lips quirked upwards in a smile, and sank down to take Frederick’s cock inside him fully.
Time slowed down for Frederick, seemed to pass by in frames of Will’s head thrown back, the slapping of their skin together, his own hand on the mortal’s cock, the tight--how was he always this tight?--muscles of Will’s ass, milking his orgasm, pretty mouth begging for just that. But it was always Will who shot off first, his bouncing ceased spontaneously, eyes screwing shut and fingernails digging into wherever they had laid. His cum streaked their bellies, cries resounded on the walls.
Frederick tried to ride out Will’s orgasm, to feel the rhythmic spasms of his body and take in how his face contorted, muscles rigid with overstimulation, but it was a futile act. His own pleasure ripped through his nerves, thick ropes of cum shot inside of Will, distending his abdomen.
The demon felt at the slight bump happily as his mind tried to regroup. He felt drunk, dizzy with the relaxation that was singing through his veins after a powerful release. Will held the same expression, one of a man at peace.
He slipped from Will, and the color began to fade from his skin, horns retracting and teeth dulling to blunt incisors. Will frowned, but pressed his ear to Frederick’s chest.
“ ‘S quiet,” the man mumbled. Frederick didn’t know whether he was falling asleep, or upset.
He ran a hand, now similar in color to Will’s, through the mortal’s hair, brushing back his bangs and thumbing around his ear. Fingers pressed against Frederick’s sternum, traced above his nipple.
“ You don’t have a heart,” Will clarified, lifting his head to look into Frederick’s eyes.
Something burned at the inside of Frederick’s nostrils. He shook his head slowly, hand cupping Will’s jaw. It was true, there was no soul, no heart or vital organs in his body that worked when unnecessary. But Will, this man with an obscene amount of empathy, the ability to connect with other human beings, but not to Frederick, had taught him. There was more than tricking mortals out of their souls, more to humans than using their bodies for pleasure and wiping their memories afterwards. There was something, deep in his chest, that Frederick felt only around Will, pride at being able to quiet the troubled man’s mind, delight at rending such pure, intense pleasure from his form. He didn’t want that to go away.
“ No,” Frederick agreed, thumb resting on Will’s chin. He leaned down, pressed their foreheads together. “ I have you.”
Chapter 12: Nothing to Hide
Cuban Bakery AU: Frederick wants to spice up his and Will's sex life. He utilizes his resources.
For hannibalsketches, for making me crazy with these headcanons so I had to write it.
Warnings: Anal sex, oral sex, dirty talk, law enforcement kink, gun play, handcuffs, spanking
Not proof read, like at all! Please tell me any mistakes you may find.
It had been a long few days, even though the sun was going down too soon and coming up later each morning. The lack of light trickling through the windows, despite the amount of work that needed to be done. Frederick came home exhausted, melatonin levels high to adjust into a new circadian rhythm. Like clockwork, he would walk through the door around ten past five, just as the last rays of light disappeared behind the tree line, his own energy a waning thing.
Tonight, he told himself when wrapping up his day, would be different. He’d liven up their evening, make it more than just dinner and taking out the dogs, the sleepy huddling for warmth in front of the fire that Will had built. Everything that they did together brought Frederick joy, made him happy, but he needed to make Will know that he was still here, that he still loved him with the ferocity of their first few flings.
They weren’t sneaking relations around Will’s department, copulating in the storage room of the bakery early in the morning before anyone else arrived. Frederick didn’t think that they needed to return to those habits, merely make new experiences.
Will was a detective now, Frederick had moved out of his old apartment and into the farmhouse outside of the city that Will called home. The rotations of employees in his bakery--part-time, college undergraduates--had cycled through, so much that the current batch couldn’t recall when Will was surprising him with flowers, still shy about being a rookie for Baltimore’s finest.
Their relationship was comfortable, stable, and their love life--though still active--had grown routine.
A few days ago, Frederick had picked up a pair of handcuffs, flimsy and easily broken, unlike the firm, cold steel in Will’s back pocket. He kept them in the top left drawer of his office desk at work. Today, tonight, was the night that he would finally bring them home, to make use of.
Will’s car was in the gravel drive, the dogs loping around the backdoor from the kitchen. Frederick forewent the porch to greet their pups, Buster and Winston, and enter to where he presumed Will was working. The smell of seared meat and sauteed greens hit him like a wall.
“ Hey,” Will greeted, not looking up from where he was working over a cast iron skillet.
Frederick laid his coat over the back of a chair, cuffs snug in the breast pocket. No need for them to not enjoy their meal. He came behind where Will stood, hunched, and dragged his fingertips across the other man’s shoulder blades, down the line of his spine. A shiver, and then Will rolled his shoulders back into the touch.
“ Missed you,” he whispered, kisses laid on the thin skin below Will’s ear lobe. “ Long days, holidays.”
“ Less crime with the cold.”
Frederick snorted into dark curls, hands massaging the thick, strong fascia that tensed beneath him. “ I do love having you home.”
“ Gonna finish the steaks in a second. Set the table?”
It was a waltz they were used to, cutlery and ceramic placed on wood, food scooped and transferred, cut and rationed. The beef was delicious, flavorful and leaking juices. Brussel sprouts chopped and seasoned, cooked to a bright green. Frederick liked to pride himself in baking, the science of measurements and consistencies, but Will had a touch necessary for cooking, bringing warmth and heartiness to a normally ordinary meal.
They finished too soon. Will moved to clean dishes. Frederick felt nausea curdling in his stomach, an anxiousness that crawled under his skin and weighed his legs down like lead. He struggled, finally rising despite the nervous fear that inhibited his previous plans.
He slipped the cuffs from his jacket, moved them to his back pocket. Will was elbow deep in soapy water. Frederick stood behind him, reached around and turned off the faucet.
Will made a noise of disapproval as his hands were yanked from the warmth, brought behind his back. Frederick held them, crossed at the wrist, while his free hand retrieved the cuffs, clicked them into place.
The change in stature was immediate. Will’s back went straight. The detective stepped back, pressed himself along Frederick’s front, hands positioned so the palms cradled his crotch.
So far, so good.
Frederick’s hands moved again, fingers quick to unbutton the green button down that separated him from pale flesh, whipcord-like muscles. Another sound, small and eager, passed from Will’s lips.
“ Gonna cooperate Mr. Graham?”
Will hesitated. Frederick felt it in the fingertips, brought to a stop in their slow exploration.
He wrestled with Frederick’s hold, twisting and thrashing against the countertop, using the opportunity to press his ass back into Frederick’s crotch. It was diluted, a watered down version of the strength that he knew resided in those arms.
The last part of his plan, the part that he had debated on, was happening. Will knew his limits, and Frederick could read his body language like a large print children’s book.
In the small of his back was a handgun, one of Will’s. He had checked the barrel three times--empty.
Frederick cocked the trigger, placed the muzzle against the other man’s temple.
All movement ceased. What Frederick had thought was tension before, was nothing in comparison to the ramrod rigidity of Will’s body now. Will was still, and he had fucked up.
He pulled away immediately, gun clattering to the floor as he clicked the safety release on the cuffs and spun Will around to face him.
“ I’m sorry, Will, God, I thought, you know, maybe--”
Will’s pupils were blown, his jaw clenched, fists clenched at his sides. He shook his head quickly, as if to clear it, and then widened the stance of his legs, leaned fully back against the countertop.
“ Certain you don’t need to do a pat down?,” Will asked, voice hoarse. He raised his chin slightly as the words came out, eyes bright. “ Officer.”
The cold that flooded Frederick’s veins just seconds ago was igniting, small flames licking up the inside of his abdomen. He felt warm, comfortable in this space. In control, because Will had given him that.
He wetted his lips and reached out to manhandle Will once again, pressing him across the kitchen table this time, jostling him out of the shirt, and restraining his hands across his lumbar curve once more.
“ What are you hiding, Graham?” Frederick hissed into his ear, gun set in Will’s line of sight against the polished wood. He moved the detective’s glasses out of the way with care, but returned to remove his belt and pants with more passion.
Will was into it. His skin was flushed, redness spread high across his cheeks and down his neck to his chest. His cock was hard in Frederick’s hand as he pulled down the khakis, hips still insistently pushing back for friction. Frederick was beginning to regret the choice of being fully-clothed for this.
“ I asked you a question.”
He brought his hand down across Will’s right cheek, firmly grasping the skin after. Will didn’t answer, but cried out, rutted against the table so it knocked up to the wall.
“Nothing, Officer.” Will was looking over his shoulder, bangs in his eyes, beautiful.
Frederick brought down his hand again, on the other side. He alternated for a total of ten spanks, loving how the pale flesh reddened and heated, how Will’s thighs quivered, and his moans shook. The detective was panting, but still moving his body towards Frederick.
“ Ready to talk?” He took up the gun again, moving it out of Will’s vision. This time, the cold metal came to rest on Will’s spine, slowly moving up and down the line of it.
“ I told you--”
Frederick didn’t let him finish, hoisted the younger man up by his wrists and prodded him towards the stairs. Up they went, Will making close, small steps with his pants still about his knees and Frederick’s grip firm on his wrists, gun pressed to the back of his head.
“ You will tell me, Mr. Graham. By the end of this.”
Will stood before the bed, and Frederick got a good look of his front. Cock still hard, straining against his boxer briefs, the head leaking fluid to stain dark the fabric. He adjusted his own growing bulge and stepped up to Will. Frederick placed the gun under Will’s chin, leaned in to steal a slow, long kiss. Will was the last to pull away, fighting to hold onto Frederick’s lips.
“ Are you trying to seduce me?” Frederick pushed him back, so Will fell onto the bed on his back. He shoved the pants completely off, started to yank at Will’s boxers, dragging them down slowly to see the eager bob of his yet untouched erection. “ I won’t be easily swayed. You need more than a sweet mouth.”
Will’s lips were parted, swollen and red. Honestly, his mouth would always be enough, but Frederick wanted to push him. “ Anything, Officer. I’ll do anything.”
He smirked and reached forward, lazily stroking Will’s cock just to watch him buck upwards, heels digging without purchase and eyes shutting. “ Well, how about this. I put my gun in your pretty mouth, and you hold it there while I fuck your ass? Think you can do that?”
With a particularly large thrust into Frederick’s fist, Will nodded and gasped out “Yes,” sounding much more enthusiastic for something new than he had in a long while. He was shivering, fidgeting. Frederick changed the restraints, so Will’s hands were in front of his body now, resting on the soft skin of his belly, inches from his cock.
“ Don’t think about touching it,” he warned while unzipping his pants, stepping around the side of the bed where Will’s head was closer to. Frederick held the base of his erection with one hand, the gun with the other as he guided it into Will’s mouth. His fingers moved to caress the straight line of the detective’s jaw when the wet cavern had completely encased him. “ God, you love having your mouth full, don’t you?”
Will worked it over with efficiency and grace, looking up through his lashes while he choked and struggled. Frederick pulled out after no more than a minute or two, knowing he couldn’t last through much more. He quickly replaced the open lips with the gun, guiding Will’s cuffed hands to hold it in place.
“ You are gorgeous. I wonder who you are,” he murmured thoughtfully while lubing up two fingers, working them inside. Will groaned around the metal, pressed back into the touch. “ A whore? Or something else? Do you have drugs up this tight ass, Graham?”
Frederick hooked his fingers, pressed down as he crammed in a third. Will was openly whimpering now, wriggling his hips back as his cock leaked profusely. “ Nothing I can feel with the digits...maybe something longer?”
There was still saliva coating his erection, but Frederick squeezed more lube onto it. He guided himself to Will’s hole, nudging into the slightly loosened muscle, opening for him. “ Oh, God,” Frederick slowly sunk inside, so Will’s legs were over his shoulders, folding their bodies together. “ I’m the only thing to have been inside of you,” he growled, and outside of their various toys, it was true.
Before Frederick, Will had fancied himself a strict top. Now, he knew the rewards of switching it up.
As his thrusts sped up, Frederick began to lose sight of their game. He relished in the muffled moans and cries from his lover’s mouth, especially when coupled by the slapping of their skin together. His hand reached between their bodies, gripped the ignored erection between them and began to pump it in time. Will was swallowing convulsively around the weapon, a thin line of saliva trickling from the side of his mouth.
“ Keep the gun in your mouth, baby. Wanna hear you scream my name around it.”
They were both so close. The head of Will’s cock was purpling, pre-cum more than enough fluid for lube. Frederick was thrusting in erratically, his free hand planted on the bed beside Will. Bursts of pleasure were popping behind his eyes, lighting up his body with a fiery tension, coiling against the base of his spine.
“ Want me to cum in your ass? Mark you even more, you’re gonna feel this for days.” Will nodded, muzzle of the gun rattling against his teeth as he did. Frederick stopped masturbating him, gripped the base of his cock firmly. “ You cum when I do, Graham, use that ass.”
And Will did, bearing down for his own pleasure and Frederick’s, the two of them working their peaks. Frederick released the base of Will’s cock, buried his own as deep as it would go, and let his eyes close as he felt the pulsating rhythm of heat moving through his body, the pumping of his heart against his rib cage. He redoubled his efforts to get Will off, teasing the head and pressing on the thick underside vein.
Will shouted, a mangled, repressed thing around the cylinder in his mouth, when he released, panting and gasping about the metal as he shot lines of cum across his own chest.. Frederick thought it was beautiful, just like the rest of Will was, splayed out and opened for him.
He helped ease the gun out of Will’s mouth, pulled himself from within the other man’s body. Will cracked his jaw as Frederick got him a warm washcloth to clean himself off with, an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel for his mouth, if needed, and a large glass of water. The detective had maneuvered his way out of the handcuffs with little difficulty, laid back against their arrangement of pillows looking far too pleased with himself.
Frederick kissed him again, slowly and sweetly, with a final peck to Will’s still flushed cheek. “ So you liked it?”
“ How’d you know?” Will was clean, they were shifting under the duvet. The dishes still needed to be done, but the dogs would find their way back in, and Frederick would finish everything else up later.
He thought back to when the ideas first started to occur to him, settling to lie beside Will, gather him into his arms. “ You kept leaving the cuffs on the night stand. Your badge and the lube together. Not on purpose, but I had some inkling.”
Will turned around so they were lying on their sides, face to face. Their lips brushed together, and Will smiled, satiated and happy.
“ I could never hide anything from you, Officer.”
Chapter 13: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Frederick makes Will decorate for their first Christmas together.
For hannibalsketches (wat a surprise) bc she has been such a good friend lately and i felt indebted to her.
Warnings: mention of alcohol, sugary sweet fluff
Frederick fell back into the worn fabric of one of the armchairs. He felt tension in his lower back, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip, but he was completely satisfied.
“ Love you,” he called into the kitchen, where Will had disappeared to. He could hear the dogs’ tails thumping against the walls, cupboards, and chair legs, glasses being set against the granite.
A carton of egg nog appeared in the doorway, where Frederick’s gaze had shifted to. Dexterous fingers, thickly veined and muscled forearms. He really was lucky. “ Want some?”
“ Please.” Frederick sat up when one of the smaller dogs, Maggie, hopped into his lap. Her small paws dug into his thighs as she circled, painful digging that finally ceased as she settled onto his thighs.
Will reappeared, two tumblers in hand. One was clearly egg nog, and the other had taken on a more brown hue. They were set upon the glass tabletop and Frederick reached for the non alcoholic one. Will sat in the chair beside his. The dogs laid around their feet.
“ It is beautiful,” Will conceded. He took Frederick’s hand, squeezing it. “ Thank you. For making me help. I’m glad I did.”
Frederick smirked, but held his tongue. Will had been adamant in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, as Frederick slowly moved boxes of Christmas decorations--ornaments and bulbs, silver garland and velvet red bows, all carefully labelled--out of his storage unit and into their shared home. The profiler’s resolve was solid, but had crumbled when Frederick showed up that morning, in Will’s car, with a tree tied to the top of it.
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and Hell would freeze over before Frederick didn’t decorate for Christmas on that weekend.
He struggled with situating the seven foot douglas fir through the door, wrestled it half onto the tree stand, cheeks colored with the effort, fingers sticky with sap and stuck with needles. His third try of shifting the truck found Will beside him, laughing softly.
Will acquiesced after that, reluctantly helping Frederick wind strings of light and tinsel about the branches. Frederick brought over boxes of ornaments, handmade by his nieces, shiny bulbs, family heirlooms, and a few that he’d picked up just a month ago.
Frederick presented the bag of them, little ceramic dogs that matched the colors and coats of their own pack, their names dangling down below. “ I got them for you, us, you know? Our first Christmas together, as a family.”
He offered it again. Will sat. “ What?”
“ I love you, Will. You’re my family now, and the dogs. So I wanted to make the tree ours.”
The mop of dark curls looked back up at him, and Frederick ignored the shining on the whites of his eyes. Will kissed him, a wet and hard thing. They pulled away from each other. “ I love you too, Fred.”
“ I knew you would be,” he teased, unable to resist gloating. “ Our first Christmas, and you not helping to decorate! I know you’re not that much of a Grinch.”
Will grunted around the lip of his glass and squeezed Frederick’s hand.
They’d be needing more egg nog, and more whiskey to get through another month of Christmas cheer.
Chapter 14: Dance So Good
For a dialogue meme, hannibalsketches asked: Chillywilly + " I didn't know you could sing"
Radio DJ AU: Frederick is a radio DJ, Will is still a profiler who listens to his station during bouts of insomnia as a voice to guide him in the night.
A time stamp for this fic.
Warnings: mentions of sex, cutie pies
The sun was warm as it peeked through the half closed blinds, thick, black out curtains that had been pulled back. Its slatted rays fell across a rumpled down comforter, finding their end on an unshaven jaw.
Will winced against the intrusion, the blackness behind his eyelids tinged with red and bright spots of color. He blinked slowly, stretching and rolling his limbs at the same pace. His hair was matted on one side. The indentation in the sheets next to him was still warm, heated by the sun's appearance. As he rolled into the comforting, familiar smell, his pupils focused. Not his bed, not his house, but a one bedroom apartment on the third floor.
A horn blared outside.
Sounds cascaded in its wake. Will licked his dry, chapped lips and let his mind play catch up, take in the music of the city. It was a different tune than the lullaby of a bubbling stream and slowly growing wood, but no less beautiful.
He sat up, cold air moving behind his naked back to cradle him, urging him into movement. His shirt and pants had been discarded on hardwood floors that were as unforgiving as the autumn atmosphere. Beside it was a black pullover. Will grabbed the ragged garment, slipped it over his head. The sleeves were tight on his forearms.
Padding barefoot by the linen closet, Will entered the bathroom. The mirror was fogged and a steady beat of water resounded off of the tiles. It wasn’t the only noise.
“So tell me why we’re talking when we dance so good.”
Frederick’s voice was slightly garbled, through a rivulet of water and fabric of the shower curtain and liner. It was raspy, thick with sleep, or maybe emotion.
“I know you can’t stay, but I wish you would.”
Will stayed silent, leaned against the cool, smooth countertop. The smile that crept onto his lips was unconscious, the same reflex that had his eyes slipping shut once more. Frederick had that effect on him--the only calming aspect of his life.
The water dulled words to humming, and finally shut off.
Will knocked against the door to let the other man know he was in the room before he spoke.
“ I didn’t know you could sing.”
A rustle of curtains allowed him to see the face he’d sorely missed waking up to.
“ Not that well.” But Frederick didn’t sound entirely modest. “ I wasn’t ever gonna make it anywhere--so radio.”
“ A wonderful voice in both settings.”
Frederick’s smile was toothy, wide. Genuine happiness. Will never knew he could be the cause of that emotion in anyone.
He kissed the other man, maybe a bit too aggressively, when they were both on the same level. Frederick’s skin was slippery wet, sweet smelling. Will felt shafted--he should’ve been the one to massage conditioner into those locks, wash away the smell of their sex from the last night.
“ Your talents don’t excuse you from showering without me, though. Wanna get wet with me again?”
Will turned the water back on, a cacophony of sound from the streets, the shower, and the apartment next door surrounding their bodies, urging them together. Warmth and music, water and soft spoken words blending into a melody only for them to share.
Chapter 15: Anything
Cuban Bakery AU--Will wears panties all day.
Inspired by this picture
Warnings: panties, rimming, anal sex
Will would do anything for Frederick.
Sometimes, this meant getting up at three in the morning and running to get some baking ingredient that Frederick had forgotten to grab the night before, and needed for the morning’s batch of pastries.
Other times, this meant surprising the baker at work, flowers and chocolates in hand, or having a romantic, candlelit dinner on the table when Frederick came home.
Today, that meant shaving his legs and wearing a pair of lacy black panties.
The original plan was to put them on at home, wait for Frederick in the bedroom, splayed out over the duvet with a needy look on his face. That morning, he had changed his mind. His legs were smooth with cocoa butter. Will suddenly realized why other men did this--he felt, and looked beautiful. The muscles of his legs were defined and shaded in the mirror as he dressed. He hesitated to put his boxers on.
Will looked at the drawer, where he knew the risque underwear was waiting for him. He swapped cheap cotton for fine silk, and looked at his reflection once again.
“ Shit,” Will said under his breath. It was a good thing Frederick had already left for work, or he would have jumped on the man. Arousal was building at the base of his spine, the slight bulge of his flaccid cock growing and straightening. He bit back the feeling, calmed himself enough to finish dressing, and went to work.
The detective struggled through his shift. He knew what he looked like under the pants, and often thought that everyone around him did too. It was terrifying, enticing. He loved it.
Will couldn’t prevent himself from sexting Frederick, describing how he’d love to be on all fours on their bed at that moment, being pounded into the mattress. Frederick replied with how much he couldn’t wait to get home.
When he went to the bathroom, Will went into a stall to relieve himself, embarrassed that one of his coworkers might walk in and see his pants off his ass, panties yanked down enough for him to remove his cock. After he’d finished, he gave himself a few cursory strokes, felt the wetness on the front of his underwear. Only a few more hours.
With an hour left in his shift, Will’s boss sent him home. Will’s cheeks flushed when the older lieutenant said that he looked distracted, like he had the beginnings of a cold. He was ordered to go home and rest, and come in an hour early the next morning to make up for lost time doing paperwork.
Will thanked a deity he didn’t believe in, and speeded on his way home.
He had beat Frederick back to the house, probably not by more than fifteen minutes.
Got sent home early. I’m waiting for you, he sent on his way up the stairs, stripping out of the uniform, the fabric now scratchy in comparison to what laid underneath.
Will fell into the bed, naked except for the lace. He prayed to that same god that Frederick would be home soon as he watched his own cock inflate, anticipating what was to come. His fingers dug into the comforter, itching to touch himself, speed along the process. Faintly, Will registered the fact that he smelled like sex, the heady scent clouding his mind.
His erection was straining against the panties when he heard the front door unlock, the sound of the dogs swarming Frederick. He hoped that the other man shooed them off, just as he did.
Frederick opened the door, and his eyes widened. “ Dios mío, Jesus fucking Christ, Will.”
His dick throbbed, blood pulsing. Will stretched out, heels pressed down and hands moved farther away from his groin. “ Please,” he moaned.
He was on all fours in seconds, face against the mattress and ass raised high. Frederick’s hands grasped his lace covered cheeks, long fingers kneading as he spread them and watched as they jiggled back into place. Will whimpered at the treatment, felt his cock leak even more fluid, trapped sticky against the flesh.
“ Frederick,” he gasped when the panties were pulled to the side, and hot breath washed over his oversensitized skin. His muscles tensed, breath held in his throat as he waited.
The broad surface of Frederick’s tongue laved over his hole. It wasn’t enough to penetrate, but a claiming streak of saliva was left in its wake. “ All day?”
“ Yes,” Will panted, pressing his bottom back. Only air. “ For you.”
“ God, you want it so bad.”
Another lick, a bite to his one exposed cheek. The thin lace was digging into his perineum with how it was pulled, restraining his cock even more with the tension. Will tried not to hump the bed.
“ Want you.”
Frederick finally gave Will what he wanted, open mouthed kisses and deep strokes of his tongue, slowly stretching him open. The panties remained, confining his erection even as the tongue became a finger and then three, soon replaced by a throbbing cock, heat deep inside of his body.
Will cried when he finally came by his lover’s mouth through the fabric, cum leaking out of him and into the underwear, his thighs quaking and chest heaving. The other man had adoration in his eyes, satisfaction on his face. Exhaustion was creeping into Will’s brain, but he didn’t miss the way that the baker looked at his own dresser, to the drawer with his own stash of lingerie. Will had found it last week, wondered why Frederick had never told him, before realizing that he must have been embarrassed. It had taken him a few days to figure out how to tell the other man, to make sure he knew that Will was more than okay with it.
He would do anything for Frederick.
Chapter 16: Doctor's Orders
I was watching some really wonderful medical porn andddd here we are! This is the kinkiest thing i've written, so please leave feedback because I'm still blushing!
Warnings: Medical Kink, Gags, Speculum, E-stim, Anal Sex, Restraints, Dirty Talk
“ You know what I want.”
Will nodded, but didn’t open his mouth. When the spider gag had been removed, Will closed his lips and hadn’t opened them since. His moans were muffled, stunted things kept behind his teeth to escape as breathy whines. He did know what Frederick wanted, what could end this, but Will didn’t want it to end.
Sight was the first sense taken from Will. Frederick was gentle as he tied the soft black blindfold about the back of his head. As he was guided to lie back on the examination table--free of the annoying crinkling paper--Will was given earbud headphones to place into his ears. White noise sounded through them, the pulsing static filling up his head.
With so little to take in his surroundings, Will focused on the last usable sense that he had.
The room initially smelled sterile, but had since been tainted with the earthy scent of leather and heady musk of Will’s arousal. Brown belts were cinched tightly every few inches along Will’s body, trapping his arms to his sides, his torso to the cool metal of the exam table. He was unable to struggle, hands kept away from any opportunity for touching. His legs were secured at the thigh and ankle in the stirrups, the backs of his knees cradled in contoured, sterilized steel. The temperature of his skin rapidly warmed as his limbs were slowly strapped down, his body immobilized.
The gag held his mouth accessible, metal prongs yanking at his lips and keeping his jaw open. Frederick had lazily fucked into the hole he’d created, but left Will drooling onto himself after a few minutes, precum and saliva covering his chin and chest.
He closed his eyes beneath the blindfold, curled his toes when a new touch was upon him. Rubber gloved fingers, brushing his exposed inner thighs, cradling and massaging his balls. Will made a high keening sound as a thumb pressed against his hole, rubbing upwards towards his perineum. When the sensation left, pressed his hips down to no avail. The table was sturdy, safe.
One earbud was pulled from Will’s ear.
“ You can’t move, see, can’t hear me unless I allow you to. You’re mine to use as I see fit.” Frederick’s voice was soft and thick. Will’s cock pulsed at it, the sound of his lover enough to cultivate a reaction. He could faintly hear the sound of a package being opened. “ Your muscles are mine too, Will.”
Will wanted to know what that meant, but the crackling static restarted in his ears. He allowed his limbs to relax, pliant for whatever Frederick had to offer.
A minute passed and Will was becoming hypersensitive, skin crawling in anticipation. The gloved fingers, starchy nitrile ones, touched his right thigh. They were removed and a sticky patch replaced them, adhering with a small press of Frederick’s palm. One more was placed on the right side, two on the left. The inner squares on each side laid close to his scrotum.
Uncontrollable twitching began in the muscles of his legs, causing the flesh to jump rhythmically. Will tugged at his restraints, closed his eyes tightly. Frederick’s fingers, still separated from his flesh by material, kneaded the available portion of his ass, came back with lube. Flexing his fingers, Will whined. The noise brought more saliva to his lips, dripping down to the shoulder that he’d rolled his head to rest upon.
Frederick pushed two fingers in at once. It wasn’t cruel, because Will had admittedly warmed up before they arrived at the primary care clinic that Frederick owned. He had been warned that the night would be a long one and wanted to relax before getting into whatever the doctor had planned for him.
There was no third, only the scissoring and teasing rub of the coupled digits inside of Will. Frederick was purposefully missing his prostate, and Will hated that there was no skin to skin contact between them.
When Frederick removed himself, he left Will empty for only moments. Chilled, slicked metal pressed against his opened hole, slid inside with little struggle. The object was narrow, taller than it was wide. It wasn’t thick enough to offer Will any pleasure, only the solid weight of something inside.
His thighs were still twitching, the electrical impulses close enough to stimulate a similar movement in Will’s ass. He couldn’t help bearing down against the unyielding shape. Will cried out again, wanting more. There was no pleasure here, the throbbing in his erection maintained by the reality of being naked and tied up in a room that Frederick saw patients in, used in the most intimate way.
Will squeezed around the metal again, against his will. He needed more.
“ ‘Lease,” he begged around the gag, pushing his ass down.
A lubricated, gloved hand wrapped around his cock, stroked it slowly. Will moaned, thrust into the relief. He could faintly hear the tone of Frederick’s voice cooing at him from beneath the white noise.
Suddenly, the thickness was changing. A speculum--the thought made his erection bob in excitement. The metal was expanding inside of Will, reaching the width of two fingers and then three. Will’s muscles were still convulsing, his hole now fluttering around what was holding him agape. He couldn’t stop the soft stream of noises that continually escaped his throat as the pattern changed from a rhythmic pulsing to random durations and breaks between the shocks. They became more concentrated, the spasms harder. Frederick’s hand was still on his cock and Will was leaking heavily.
How strange it was to be controlled and brought to the brink without any true touch from his lover. Will admired it, and he abhorred it.
Will could feel himself being stretched open, was helpless to fight it. Everytime he tried to tense the muscles in his lower abdomen or pelvis, the electricity running through his thighs took the control away. He was working himself off on the metal, could feel the pressure building on his prostate, at the base of his erection.
His fingers curled into fists, stomach tightened as orgasm built. Will was close, would have said more than the muffled version of Frederick’s name if he could from around the gag. But the hand stopped, squeezing tight at the bottom of his shaft, staving off any hope of release.
“ ‘Uck!” Will swore, fighting against the restraints across his shoulders and chest. He felt like his stomach had bottomed out, the peak of pleasure they’d built disintegrating within seconds. The hand left all together and suddenly Will could hear the labored sound of his own breathing, the faint chuckling of the doctor.
“ When you cum, it’s with me inside of you, Will.”
Frederick’s fingers were inside of him, rubbing through the speculum. Will nodded to Frederick’s statement to appease him. He couldn’t help how loud he was becoming, wished the gag was gone so he could talk back, could properly beg for more. Now, it was only half-pronounced words and low moans.
“ ‘Lease,” he whined again, crying out as the metal spread him further. It was wider than four fingers, the most he’d ever taken. Sweat was soaked into the blindfold, collecting in the small of his back where it separated from the table.
The shocks stopped, but Will was still open and exposed. He clenched against the unyielding toy, trying to make his own pleasure. Frederick slapped his thighs, Will could hear him moving around the table. The buckle that pressed into the side of his cheek was unfastened, the gag removed from his mouth.
“ You okay?” Frederick whispered, massaging his jaw. “ Need a break, water?”
Will shook his head and smiled. The worry was sweet, but unnecessary. He could handle this.
“ All right.” There was a glancing blow of lips to his brow, then his cheek. “ Then you can beg for my cock, Will, so that you can cum, remember?”
Again, Will shook his head. He wanted to prolong this, loved the detachment that this play gave him. Will craved the control that Frederick had over him, without even touching each other. Frederick enjoyed the power play, but wasn’t intent on allowing Will to reach his release alone. The doctor indulged Will with toys, sensitized him with pain and pleasure before taking his own.
“ You don’t want me to fuck you?”
Will huffed, pushed his hips up as his cock bobbed. Another turn of the screw, increasing the stretch on his already swollen hole.
“ Just tell me how much you want it, Will. I’ll take this speculum out and shove my dick inside you instead. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”
He could hear Frederick’s pants rustling to the floor, the wet sound of him jacking off. The electricity was turned back on and Will yelped in surprise. One more turn--the yelp shifted into a moan.
“ If you don’t want me, that’s fine. I’ll make you cum, leave you as a complete mess until the nurses come in tomorrow morning. I’ll have to put the gag back in, of course, and lock up that pretty cock overnight.”
Will’s cock twitched.
“ You like that idea, don’t you? God, Will, I didn’t know you were such a slut. You’d let me leave you stretched open all night, and you’d love it. I could just get myself off, leave my cum inside you without even fucking you this way.”
Fingers swiped over his slit, collecting clear fluid. It was smeared over Will’s lips.
“ You know what I want,” Frederick insisted, pressing feather light touches around Will’s erection.
Will wanted to keep up this play, but he could hear the desperation in his lover’s voice, the desire making his accent thick. And Will wanted to cum.
“ Please fuck me,” Will whispered hoarsely. He should’ve taken the water earlier.
Frederick turned off the shocks, began to remove the pads from his skin. “ More than that, use your mouth.”
“ I want your cock in me.”
“ I want your cock in me, what?” Frederick slapped the inside of Will’s thighs again, traced over the metal that held him open.
Will rolled his eyes beneath the fabric. “ Please fuck me with your cock, doctor.”
“ Good boy.”
The speculum was closed quickly, removed without any fanfare. Frederick hands were ungloved as they carded through Will’s hair, stroked softly over his sensitive rim. He was almost surprised by the gentleness afforded to him now, although the belts still held him down and his eyes stared into blackness. Frederick had never been good at keeping up appearances for an entire scene.
He was filled with Frederick’s cock, heavy and hot. Will tried to not sound so needy, but the full thickness of it had him on edge in seconds. When Frederick’s hand wrapped around his erection, Will whined . He gasped as the slow push turned into rapid thrusts. There was room enough between his legs, and Will’s body didn’t shift with each hard movement. He was entirely held in place, an immovable object for Frederick to rut against.
“ Can I cum, Frederick, please?” Will beared down as the head of the other man’s cock repeatedly brushed his prostate.
“ No,” Frederick panted. He yanked off the fabric from Will’s face, met his eyes. Will only saw love, and deep adoration reflected back at him. “ You know what I want to hear.”
“ Please, doctor, let me cum, make me,” Will babbled on. He barely heard the permission granted over the rush of blood in his ears. His eyes closed as orgasm washed over tensed muscles, semen painting his abdomen and the tanned leather.
Frederick came on the tail end of Will, riding out the last of his muscle spasms. Will felt liquid warmth pooling inside him.
“ I fucking love you, Will Graham.”
Will smiled, would have reached out and petted Frederick’s head where it rested on his chest if he could. He leaned down and kissed the top of his scalp.
“ You’re a terrible doctor. I’m leaving in much more pain than when I came in.”
Frederick sniffed, stood up straight and tucked away his deflating member. “ I’ll just refer you elsewhere then.”
The smile stayed on Will’s face until he watched Frederick straighten out his labcoat and tie, and then walk towards the door. He could feel semen dripping out of him, to the floor.
“ The nurse will be in shortly with your discharge instructions.”
Will rolled his eyes, looked at the clock. The night was young, and who knows what else Frederick had planned. It was a Saturday, after all.
“ Yes, doctor!”
“ I’ll be home in about twenty minutes, okay? I’m sor--”
“ Don’t worry about it. I love you.”
Will’s voice was thick, but his words genuine. Frederick was indebted to his lover, who had put up with the late nights for years now. He returned the sentiment and ended the call.
Residency had been difficulty on their relationship. After being granted a fellowship, Frederick had hoped that the days would be shorter. He hoped to finally spend enough time at home with Will, whose work as a detective had more stable hours, even if he brought casework to scatter across the dining room table.
Tonight, they had planned to go out. There was a restaurant that some of Frederick’s peers in internal medicine had recommended--those that did two, maybe three surgeries a week and saw patients in clinic on only one day. That was Frederick’s dream, to have three day weekends and make enough money to keep them comfortable, maybe even start a family. Either way, Frederick had found himself elbow deep in a morbidly obese patient’s peritoneal cavity after an intern had managed to fuck up an appendectomy. There wasn’t enough hands to go around in terms of holding up the pannus, and the procedure ran three hours late as a result.
A nurse had called Will about halfway through, and Frederick had just hung up after stripping from his teal scrubs, changing back into the powder blue button down and dark slacks he knew Will liked on him, the deep navy tie that he’d been bought for Christmas.
It was past midnight. The drive home was too slow, despite the lack of traffic. He needed to get home to reassure Will that they would go out sometime soon, he would make sure of it. Frederick tried not to think of how this was a monthly occurrence.
The lights in the front room were still on when Frederick pulled into the garage. His legs protested when he went to get out of the car, feet sore and muscles aching. He hadn’t been home in over sixteen hours.
He listened to the garage door shut noisily while entering the house, folding his jacket over his forearm.
There was a mop of black hair that swiveled from over the back of the couch. Will’s glasses were on the end of his nose, a manilla folder opened across his lap with photos spread across its surface. His lips parted in a smile as he gathered up the files and set them to the side.
“ Hey, Fred.” The other man stood up and came around the furniture to embrace him. “ Hungry? I could order a pizza.”
Frederick felt a smile creeping onto his own face. He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband of Will’s flannel pajama pants. “ No thanks, dear.”
“ Nothing else I can do for you?” Will pressed back into Frederick’s hands, swiveling his hips. His eyes were bright.
Guilt lanced through Frederick’s stomach. He squeezed the flesh beneath his fingers while sighing, feeling the exhaustion spread through his limbs. Of course he wanted to fuck Will. But he also wanted to sleep, considering that his next shift would begin in less than nine hours. His body’s needs were warring with his desire.
They shifted back to lean up against the kitchen counter. Without having to support his weight, the physical barrier to sex became more obvious. “ I want you, Will, God, you know I do. I’m so fucking tired, though.”
Will pressed their lips together. Frederick moaned, rubbed one of his palms up the other man’s side and tugged at his t-shirt.
“ Will,” he started again, apologetic and guilty.
“ You don’t have to do a thing.”
Frederick allowed himself to be led back to their bedroom, to have his tie slowly removed, shirt unbuttoned. He shimmied out of his pants, socks, and underwear as Will stripped from his minimal clothing. They fell back on the large bed, Frederick’s back comforted by the soft duvet.
“ Let me take care of you,” Will murmured into his neck, kissing the stubble on his jawline and then his lips. “ You’re always so tired, you work so hard.”
Frederick nodded into another kiss, sucking on Will's lower lip, bringing his teeth to worry at flesh he missed so much. His palms splayed over the pale expanse of the other's ass. They both moaned when he groped and pulled the cheeks apart. The length of his cock was pressing hard against Will's tight abdomen, pulsing when a hand came to grasp it together with the other beside it.
" Think of you all damn day," Frederick promised into kiss bitten lips. He moved to suck a mark onto Will's collar bone while canting his hips into Will's fist, alongside his cock, the movement smoothed by their combined pre-cum.
Will was backing off now, a smirk on his lips as he grabbed the lube and set about working two fingers into himself. The act was familiar, small gasps and whines escaping from a perfect mouth.
Frederick could remember the night he met Will, a shy police officer who wouldn’t meet his eyes when accompanying a gunshot wound. He’d taken his number, for when the patient was out of surgery. They’d gone for drinks at the end of their shifts. Will was kind, he was modest. He’d blushed when Frederick asked that they get dinner sometime.
Now, that same man was shameless, the only color in his cheeks the result of heated arousal. He was confident with his body, aware of the effects that each movement had on the exhausted surgeon who laid pliant beneath him.
“ I should send you dirty pictures to look at while you’re in the OR. Give you something to look forward to.”
Frederick started to lazily stroke himself as Will pressed a third digit inside. He nodded in agreement, bucking his hips towards the ones that straddled his own, grinding down.
“ Maybe a video or two.”
“ Will,” he groaned, squeezing the base of his erection.
“ Would you jack off to them, Frederick? If you couldn’t get home, would you get yourself off to the things I sent you?”
Will had removed his fingers, positioned himself over Frederick’s weeping cock. His slow sinking down the length was like heaven, as close to sliding into a warm bath as he was going to get. Frederick resisted the urge to buck upwards into the hot, wet heat of him, biting his lower lip and clenching his fingers into fists.
“ You know I would, baby,” he panted, moving his hips in small circles. “ Fuck my hand, pretending it’s you bouncing on my dick.”
Will was fully seated on him, the flush from his face creeping down his neck to his chest. His pupils were blown, cock slapping against his belly, hard and leaking. “ I could wait for you in the on-call room, remember? Like I did that one time?”
Frederick could feel himself throb inside of Will at the memory--his hand muffling the enthused cries he pounded out of he wanting body below him. A tired smile spread across his face when the other man whimpered and moaned at the brush to his prostate.
“ Let me take care of you during your shift,” Will murmured with a sensuous roll of his hips. Frederick thrust upward, driving himself deeper into the movement. “ My smart man, saving lives. You deserve it.”
He reached forward to stroke Will’s erection, a slow thing. Will began to raise and lower his hips, starting up a pace that filled their bedroom with the sounds of grunts and gasps, the slap of skin against skin.
Frederick’s mind felt hazy with pleasure and impending orgasm, but he could sense remorse on the edges of his mind. Will saved just as many lives as he did, and yet received nothing in return. Never asked for it either. Here he was, giving Frederick more than he had earned, yet again.
“ I love you, Will.”
He worked harder to return the pleasure he felt from the clenching muscles, the slide of hot slick squeezing tight around him. The edges of his vision were dimming, his mouth caught open constantly as Will’s hole began to spasm about his length, Will’s cum dribbling across own chest. His orgasm was sudden, unexpected. It was a comforting release, muscles finally relaxed from their consistently tense state, mind wiped blank by white noise and blind pleasure.
“ Love you, Fred.”
Will’s lips were against his cheek, his body still atop Frederick’s. There was cum cooling on his torso and inside of Will, where his cock was softening. The adrenaline was wearing off, tiredness seeping back into his body. His eyelids fell shut. His finger’s stilled in Will’s hair. The other man hummed softly, pressing a kiss to Frederick’s temple before rolling off.
Sleep was tugging, pulling at Frederick’s psyche. He felt his breathing deepening, evening out, before being startled back into awareness by a warm, wet washcloth wiping the mess from his skin.
“ ‘M sorry I didn’t make dinner,” he mumbled. Will’s head was against his chest, side of his face pressed against Frederick’s pecs and nose nuzzling into the coarse hair.
Frederick could feel Will smiling. “ Doesn’t mean a thing. All I ever want is you, with me. I know we’ll get there, we’ll go out to all the nice dinners. You’ve always made things work, Fred.”
An image of the two of them at a restaurant flashed before his eyes, maybe a few years in the future. There was a third seat, a high chair. They were all smiling--Will looked at ease. Frederick didn’t look tired.
He felt himself nodding, chin resting atop Will’s scalp. “ I’ll make it work, for us.”
Chapter 18: Daddy's Ghost
Frederick tries to deal with the loss of Will as their daughter grows up.
Warnings: Major Character Death!!!, mpreg, cuties, angst, ouch.
Inspired by this song.
Frederick’s memory of April 5th, 2017 was a blur with punctuation marks of clarity. He often wished that it would fade entirely, that he could forget the smear of blood on the scrubs discarded in the biohazard outside the operating theatre. That somehow, he could rid his mind of the sensation of cold, dead skin, the color and life drained from a beautiful face.
But if he forgot the shape of Will in death, he would also lose his last words in life.
“ I love you.”
Will’s face was drawn, his words breathed out between gasps. He was pale and Frederick could see the pain writ upon his brow. Every few seconds, the other man squeezed his hand with crushing force as a new contraction ripped through his pelvis.
“ I know,” Frederick whispered against the feverish skin of Will’s forehead, kissing away his sweat. “ I love you too. You’re gonna do great, she’ll be beautiful.”
Straight, white teeth gritted together in agony once more. They were rapidly approaching the doors to the hall of OR’s, where Frederick would have to wait. The dark curls Frederick loved so much were tucked beneath a translucent, baby blue surgical net, expressive eyes hidden by clenched lids.
Frederick traced the movement of Will’s free hand, medical bracelet loose on his wrist, as it rubbed fondly over his swollen belly. He was smiling, exhausted but excited. “ She just wants to meet her papa, don’t you, sweetie?”
Tears burned in Frederick’s nostrils. He kissed Will fully as the nurses made to move his bed further. Their fingers slipped from one another, remnants of warmth and affection suspended on Frederick’s skin. He could taste Will’s coffee in his mouth.
Their daughter was two months premature, but insistent. Will required surgery to ensure delivery went as expected. Frederick had faith in his colleagues.
Small hands were tugging at his shirt, bouncy dark curls tickling his chin. It was still dark out, his body still heavy laden with exhaustion. They couldn’t have laid down to sleep long ago.
“ What is it, baby?” Frederick cupped the back of his daughter’s head with his hand, massaged her scalp slowly.
The body settled against his own, warm. “ You were crying.”
“ Me?” Frederick asked incredulously, voice still thick with sleep. “ No, Bev. I’m fine. You wanna sleep in here tonight?”
Beverly giggled when Frederick tickled her sides in an attempt to sidetrack her thinking. She was very bright, at age five, with the acute empathy of her father.
“ Only if Winston can, too.”
“ All right, Winston too.”
The young girl drifted off into a sound sleep shortly after. Frederick tried not to cry again.
It had been their anniversary. A decade, he would have spent with the only man to accept him so fully, to protect him and then provide him with a family. To die for their family.
They were both captivated by two blue lines, a cross that signified much more.
“ We’re going to be parents,” Frederick breathed against the crown of Will’s head. He inhaled the earthy smell of the other man’s shampoo, his fingers moving to where Will was clutching his flat abdomen.
Will nodded, allowed himself to fall back into Frederick’s embrace.
“ Before we tell your mom, we need to see the doctor.”
“ I know.”
Names of obstetricians flew through Frederick’s mind. He kissed the curls below his chin once more, promising to call his most trusted colleague after they finished celebrating.
The air was crisp, cold. It was sterile, or should have been, if the smell of blood didn’t linger.
Frederick wasn’t required to change into scrubs, to have the booties over his shoes, a net over his hair. There was no fragile life to protect in this room. His sneakers squeaked on the floor, the only noise left.
He didn’t have the empathy that Will always did, but there was no need.
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor would have slowed, and then changed into a single tone. Priorities in the room would have shifted from keeping Will alive to removing the life inside him, to ensuring their daughter took her first breath as Will released his last. The cry of Beverly over an incubator when the paddles were charged.
There was no intubation tube now. The needles had been removed from Will’s veins, a sheet draped up to his chest. Beneath it, Frederick knew he would find stitches holding together tortured flesh. There would be dried blood still-- not everything could have been cleaned, not so quickly. Frederick wanted to see Will as soon as possible, needed to see his body.
He was inches from Will. His fingers threaded through the curls, somehow stiffened by death. That didn’t make sense, and suddenly he couldn’t fathom everything that was happening, why there was so much change, so quickly. Will was gone and dead, less than an hour ago. How had everything gone to shit?
They had known there was the possibility.
Frederick had thought they would be fine, he had assured Will at every turn as his belly swelled and false contractions wracked through his body in the second trimester.
He remembered how wide Will’s eyes were, the fear on his face. Frederick could feel his own features contorting similarly now--anguish and grief parting his lips in a sob. His knees hit the floor.
“ I love you, Will.”
Hesitantly, he twined their fingers together, cold of death against his flesh.
“ I’m so scared.”
Sunlight filtered into the kitchen, painting a thick stripe upon the table. Frederick stared at it, captivated by the particles floating in the air. When the brightness began to strain his ocular muscles, he shifted to look into the cup of coffee he’d yet to touch.
Two weeks had passed since he’d left the hospital.
His daughter was two weeks old. His, because Will was not here to make her theirs.
Frederick had not seen Beverly, had not put on the sterilized gown and held his only child. When he thought of her, his emotions were a whirlwind. He was angry--at Beverly, the tiny infant with a full head of dark hair, for being the reason that Will was gone; at himself, for projecting his hurt onto the living memory of Will.
His mother had moved in after attending the funeral. She spent time in the NICU, brought home photos and made sure that Frederick ate at least once in a day. This morning, she called to inform him that Beverly was ready to come home. He should be there.
But Frederick couldn’t will himself to stand up from the table, to place his gaze anywhere but into empty space. He felt lost, untethered. There was an ache, deep and painful, in his chest, that had not faded. Tears waited behind his eyes, eager for the opportunity to fall down his cheeks. Frederick wished he could reign in his emotions, that he could calm himself, but there was nothing he could do.
This was the morning he would meet his daughter. He had to move on, to go forward, for her.
Beverly was a quiet baby. She did not fuss, had no problems with the formula that Frederick fed her.
Often, he cried more than the infant. She should have been breast fed and Frederick weeped for the loss. Beverly was not aware of any absence in her life. She giggled happily when Frederick's stubble brushed her forehead and squealed with delight when her abuela lifted her into the air.
Frederick knew he should cherish every moment, each stride that the little girl took towards becoming a healthy, well-adjusted child. Instead, he found himself feeling sick with guilt. Why was he so lucky to see Beverly grow up, when Will, the man who carried and birthed her, laid six feet under.
Although she would never meet her father, Frederick made a point to keep around the painful pictures of Will. They made his memories vivid, his heart ache. But Beverly had to know who Will was, she had to know what had been sacrificed for her, who gave her all of her best features.
So he did not remove the frames from their shelves.
Beverly gurgled, pleased when she was shown a page of a scrapbook. Will was helping Frederick hold up the first fish he’d ever caught--a large bass, writhing in fluorescent green netting.
“ Daddy,” Frederick cooed in her ear, guiding her fingers to the shape of Will’s jawline. “ That’s your daddy, Bev.”
“ Da,” she agreed, kicking her feet and upsetting the album.
Her curls tangled in the brush that Frederick tried to pull through them. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she didn’t want to cut her hair. In the end, he resorted to pulling back the thick locks into a high ponytail.
“ Are you ready for your first day of school?”
Beverly turned around in Frederick’s lap, her blue eyes bright against tanned skin. “ Maybe,” she conceded.
“ I packed you peanut butter and jelly.”
Frederick tickled her sides. His little girl was six years old now, and entering kindergarten. She squirmed in his arms, wrestling away to put on her pink, knitted hat from her grandmother. It was in the shape of a puppy with two floppy ears. The ends of her chocolate brown curls flipped up from the rim.
“ And a cookie?”
Frederick stood, smiling as he picked up her backpack. “ And a cookie. Shortbread.”
“ Okay. I’ll go.”
A small hand it into Frederick’s palm. He led her outside, strapped her into the booster seat.
Beverly babbled along to the music. Frederick could recall the way that Will used to half-sing the words to every song--he never could remember all of the words, or carry a tune. He watched Beverly from the rear view mirror.
Will never left his mind for long, but Frederick knew he had a beautiful, perfect girl here, now. She would ground him, would remind him of Will’s blessings and the gifts he’d given Frederick.
“ Papa?” Beverly asked, a near whisper, when Frederick helped her out of the car and they began to walk towards the double, black doors of the schools.
Bev was slowing their pace, dragging her feet. “ I love you.”
“ I love you too, baby girl.” He crouched down to be eye level, hands steady on narrow shoulders. “ You’re gonna do great.”
Chapter 19: Dinner Guest
Frederick invites Hannibal to dinner.
Warnings: Anal sex, exhibitionism
There's an amateur porn video of this. I couldn't help myself.
There was a breeze winding through the foyer, chilling the sweat on his skin. Frederick could feel his body reacting to the differences in temperature. His cock was hard as a rock.
He was trying his best to maintain even breathing, to keep the thrusts as rhythmic as possible while not moving Will’s body too much. His ass was tight, the swell of it jiggling when Frederick’s hands weren’t pulling his cheeks apart to watch the length of his shaft disappear inside.
Frederick felt Will’s hole tighten around him and had to bite back a moan. His lips were bruised from the last few minutes of it--he needed to cum.
“ I’m n-not really...feeling so well,” Will gritted out. His face was flushed, brow glistening.
He didn’t let up, tried to urge along his impending orgasm. Will wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer. It was enough to make Frederick crazy, to know he had this kind of effect on Will--to make him stutter, to know that Will would do this for him.
Frederick was having a hard time focusing on much outside of the sensations washing over him. His balls were tightening. A few low, breathy groans escaped from his mouth. Will’s words were hiccuping more often.
“ Fuck,” he grunted. His hips stuttered. Cum began to spill out of him, deep into Will and then across his ass.
Realization hit Frederick. He’d been too loud, they were going to--
“ Will, was that Frederick?”
The toned, naked body of his lover was mostly hidden from view by the front door and its shadows while his face was bathed in sunlight. On the other side of the wood, unseen to Frederick, was Hannibal Lecter.
Will hesitated, his ass clenching at the sudden emptiness and cock still throbbing. Frederick rubbed at his perineum, took his erection in hand.
“ He’s in the kitchen. We were going to have dinner--”
“ I know. He invited me over.”
“ Yeah, and I got sick. Hannibal, we can’t have dinner.” Will was too stubborn to apologize. Frederick squeezed the base of his cock, swiped his thumb over the weeping slit. “ I’m sorry. Maybe next weekend?”
Frederick could imagine the restrained irritation on Hannibal’s face. The psychiatrist would, of course, go out of his way to see Will outside of Quantico. He knew that Hannibal had brought dessert--something delicious and close to Will’s roots, but also impressive--in an attempt to show up Frederick’s meal. As if, after two years together, absurdly expensive beignets would somehow convince Will that his former therapist was a better choice of lover.
“ I’ll leave these with you. Perhaps I could host.”
Will’s right foot tapped three times. Frederick removed his hand to let the other man finish the conversation.
“ Thanks. We’ll be in touch.”
“ Of course.”
Will closed the door behind him and turned around to press his back against the solid surface. A container fell out of his right hand without a care, toppling to its side.
“ Please, Fred, I need to cum, baby,” Will whined when Frederick dropped to his knees.
It took little to bring the profiler off after a few erratic thrusts into Frederick’s mouth. Will sunk to the floor next to him, a dazed smile on his face. It hadn’t been easy to convince Will that this was a good idea. Fucking Will in front of someone was a dream come true for Frederick. The fact that said person was Hannibal Lecter satisfied more than one desire.
Hannibal needed to know that Will was his.
Frederick had made his point. After all, Hannibal’s nose wouldn’t miss the smell of musk and semen so close to the doorway.
Chapter 20: Amateur Hour
Frederick and Will make amateur porn. Hannibal watches.
I'm on a kick of torturing Hannibal? Also I just really want to express my headcanon that Frederick has a thick cock.
Warnings: Voyeurism (ish), pornography, anal sex, anal gaping, large cocks
It hadn’t taken long for the rumors circulating Quantico to be released from the confines of the FBI academic campus. The whispers travelled from students to faculty, passed in the morgue and forensics labs until they became airborne to the crime scenes themselves. Technicians spoke loudly when they thought no one was listening, tongues loosened by sleep deprivation and frayed nerves from the latest mutilations.
Hannibal was not immune to the buzzing of words when consulting. The crass accusations set his teeth on edge, his muscles tight. His responses were tight-lipped with those who chattered about Will’s personal life.
It was not until he heard Will himself begrudgingly participating in the jokes made at his expense that Hannibal began to consider the legitimacy of the tales.
When the profiler left the lab with Jack, Hannibal lingered.
“ I have a screenshot of his face,” Beverly said triumphantly, pulling her laptop from a canvas bag.
“ You watched long enough to get to that point?”
Beverly’s brows raised, the glint in her eyes became mischievous. “ It’s damn good, Zee.”
“ She’s right,” Jimmy added from behind a facemask. “ Frederick does know how to work a camera.”
Hannibal lifted his eyes from the body part displayed. He straightened his waistcoat and stood taller. The trio glanced up at him. Only Zeller had the decency to blush.
There was surprisingly little effort needed to find Will Graham’s amateur pornography. Some of the stories had been more vulgar than others.
The collection of videos were popular, high up in the search results Hannibal received upon typing “bareback” into the site. Eroticism was not to be frowned upon, but the lewd language made his skin crawl. There was no need to befoul the beauty of the human form with obscenities.
Will’s body was no exception.
He loaded the most viewed clip from Will’s profile, putting aside his desire to delve further into the set of photos that captured the sculpted line of his torso, ending in a delicious, supple curve. The square video player switched from black to the bed that was in the front room of Will’s home. Hannibal turned his volume to a reasonable level and pressed play.
Sound crackled through the speakers as the camera was manhandled. Frederick, his bumbling colleague, projected confidence and bravado through the screen.
“ Ready, baby?”
The video panned from navy duvet to the pale expanse of Will’s ass, zooming out to see the shape of him on hands and knees, and then focusing on his rim--glistening with lube and lax. Dark curls bobbed at the top of the frame. There was muffled words breathed into the mattress, followed by a low groan when two of Frederick’s fingers pressed inside of Will’s body again.
“ Fuck,” Frederick breathed from off camera. He withdrew his hand. The frame widened once more, revealing his cock.
Perhaps that was the reason for the extensive popularity.
Hannibal thought of his own member, which was sizeable, but not to the extent of his colleague’s. Was that Will’s draw to the inferior psychiatrist?
Putting aside his growing jealousy, Hannibal returned his focus to Frederick’s erection, which was an angry shade of red and dripping with lube and seminal fluid. It was thick, the blunt head pressing slowly into Will’s body.
“ Oh, god.”
Will was panting, his hips rocking in a slow, short pattern. Hannibal could see his fist clenching in the duvet. Frederick’s free hand splayed across Will’s right cheek, pulling it apart to better show the stretch the profiler was bearing before he squeezed the flesh and gave it a quick slap. A short moan followed.
“ Love that big cock, hm?”
Frederick was almost fully seated. His groin entered the screen.
“ Yes,” Will whimpered, reaching a hand back to tangle with Frederick’s, a glimpse of his shaven face showing. “ Please--please fuck me.”
A groan responded. Frederick began a gentle rhythm with shallow thrusts, making Will work for more. The focus stayed on the slide of the thick shaft in and out of Will’s body. Each movement was punctuated by the wet sound of lube, flanked by grunts and pleased noises.
The video itself was not much longer than three minutes. Hannibal considered skipping to the end, but found himself captivated by the position of Will’s lithe form and the rhythmic sounds that were forced from his lungs. Thirty seconds were left ticking away.
Frederick’s breathing had become more ragged, his steady hand started to shake. His orgasm was not notably audible. What followed, however, provided all of the evidence necessary.
“ Gonna take all of my cum, baby?”
Will’s moan was nearly a sob, his shoulders dropping to the mattress.
“ Such a good boy.”
The swollen cock slipped from Will’s body, followed by a trail of cum. Will’s hole remained open, pink and gaping in the aftermath. The muscle flexed and more thick, milky liquid seeped from him, followed by another moan. Frederick’s hand encouraged the display, kneading his cheeks and thumb tugging at the reddened, puffy rim.
Hannibal was at a loss. Will Graham not only allowed himself to be completely debauched by the lowly Frederick Chilton, but had no qualms with publishing the proof online to all.
The camera switched hands for a brief moment, the viewpoint twisting until it settled on what was presumably Will’s neglected erection. He was laying on his back now, the focus on Frederick’s mouth, the top of his head. Fingers laced through thick locks, tugging as his hips bucked. High, whining noises came from above the camera as the seconds passed. Audio and visual cut out suddenly, after a particularly hard shove of Will’s pelvis.
His orgasm was not the draw, and Hannibal knew that. He scrolled through the comments regarding to Will as a slut and praising his pussy. There was a general air of desire to obtain what Frederick had won.
Hannibal could relate.
When the next video began to play, the psychiatrist leaned back in his chair and palmed the stiffness underneath the tailored crotch of his pants. He may not get to touch, but Hannibal would memorize every pleasured sound wrung from Will’s body, every ecstatic twisting of limbs until he could construct vivid images of the empath at the receiving end of his passion in the lavish bedrooms of his mind palace.
Chapter 21: Origins of Porn
How Frederick convinced Will to make porn.
Warnings: no explicit sex, but references to multiple occasions; dirty talk
It started when Frederick left the country for a ten day conference. The time zone difference was too large for him to be in frequent contact with Will, and ten days was far too long.
“ I’m gonna miss you,” he’d whispered into Will’s ear. “ The sound of your voice, baby--please. Please, let me.”
Will had reluctantly agreed.
Frederick was more than persuasive when Will was inebriated. They had been going through the dirty photos and filthy videos that had been sent back and forth between the two of them. Some were together, others solo.
“ You need to delete these, Fred.”
The grin on Frederick’s face was devilish. “ No way. My lunch breaks are sometimes very long.”
Will’s face flushed.
“ What if somebody takes your phone…”
“ Then they’d be privileged enough to see your pretty hole, baby.” Frederick’s lips were on his neck, the blush creeping up to his jawline. They’d had too much to drink. “ Look at your face, God, Will. You get off on it. I should post these online, let everyone see you getting fucked?”
Will shook his head, biting back the groan that bubbled from deep in his chest. Frederick’s hands were palming at his fattening cock through his jeans and more filth spilled from Frederick’s mouth into Will’s ears.
Within minutes, Frederick and Will had posted their first amateur porn video together. They migrated to a more horizontal position shortly thereafter.
Will’s inbox, because they had used his e-mail address to make the account, was full of messages from the porn site the next morning. He blinked at the glare of his cell phone, eyes still bleary from sleep. His head was throbbing.
The psychiatrist snored, rolled from his back to his side to face Will and turn away from the sun.
“ Fred, get up.” Will sat up now, scrolling through the endless new messages. He shoved Frederick’s shoulder. “ You have to see this. I can’t believe I let you do this--fuck.”
Another rumbling came from Will’s left side. The huff of breath tickled his side. Will flicked his forehead and then poked Frederick in between the ribs. “ Frederick, you need to see this.”
He’d loaded the web page at this point and scrolled down to the comments section--34?? It had only been a matter of hours.
Frederick finally woke when Will’s phone started to blare the sounds of his own groaning. He scrambled to reach the video player and pause it as Frederick blinked awake.
“ Mm, ready to go at it again, baby?,” Frederick mumbled into his pillow. “ Bet you’re still all opened up for me.”
Will slapped his upper arm and finally got his own voice to shut up. He cringed at the sight of his own ass being split open by Frederick’s thick cock, lube slick along his shaft and Will’s hole. It wasn’t pleasant to see himself that way, with clarity. He was blushing again.
Frederick finally sat up to lean against Will’s shoulder. Will could feel the smile stretching Frederick’s lips on his skin.
“ Told you that you’d be popular.”
Will shoved him back onto the mattress. “ Look at these…”
would love to have a go at that pretty cunt
take it, boy
Frederick gently reached to cup his semi. “ You like the attention, Will, come on.”
Will let Frederick pry the phone from his hands and straddle him.
“ Wanna have you moaning my name, get a video of you choking on my cock. Imagine the kinds of things they’ll say about your pretty face covered in my cum, Will.”
Their hips pressed together. Will let his head fall back and a whimper to escape his lips. Frederick was right--he could feel his hole clenching in anticipation, still wet and loose. He couldn’t deny that the comments made him hot and bothered, made him want to bend over any solid surface and let Frederick take him until they both went boneless and dumb.
Will’s flannel pants were pulled off as Frederick shucked his boxers.
The psychiatrist’s cock was standing at attention, thick and long, the ruddy head wet with a bead of precum.
“ Come on then.” Will picked his phone up from the nightstand, flipped open the camera app, and tossed it to Frederick. He waited for the light to shine on him and a thumbs up from Frederick. His legs fell open, exposing himself.
“ Fuck me.”
Chapter 22: Edge of His Seat
Frederick tries--and fails-- to prove a point.
Cuban Bakery AU
*crawls into the nearest dumpster*
inspired by this gif
Warnings: butt plugs, anal sex, saps
As Frederick sat down, he knew that this had been a terrible idea. It was his own fault for being too stubborn. Will had taunted him, egged him on about being too expressive, too loud in his pleasure--had whispered into their pillows that even if they ever did try something out in public, Frederick be the first to give them away.
Frederick sought out to prove his lover wrong. Will rarely was incorrect in his evaluations of petty criminals and juvenile delinquents from the streets of Baltimore. It turned out, Frederick was not an exception to this scrutiny.
The reservations to this small restaurant had been put in months ago. Three years together, after hundreds of pastries and coffee breaks, after the bakery expanded to offering catering and Will moved up the ladder of Baltimore’s police department to a detective position. Frederick pulled a few strings to get a five course meal at an up and coming farm to table restaurant. Dried herbs hung from the rafters, and the light was coming low from rusted lanterns. He hoped that Will would appreciate the thought put into his choice of food, of location.
Will, of course, had to work that morning. They were to meet at the restaurant at six. Frederick planned to arrive early, to set flowers into the vase, arrange the card he’d bought with the matte black box containing a Cartier watch.
What he had not intended on, was spending fifteen minutes after he’d gotten out of the shower working himself open with two fingers, liberally spreading lube on a plug, and then pressing the toy inside himself until the square base rested against his rim. The plug was by no means small--the thickest part wider than Will’s cock, resting against his prostate and spreading him open. No, this was not planned, but Frederick had worked it into his mind that this would be a nice surprise for Will to find later in the evening.
He’d not accounted on it making the first half of their anniversary an exercise in extreme self control.
This was beyond the thrill of being fucked in the kitchens in the back of the bakery while the doors were unlocked. It was more than Will sauntering through the rear door in a skirt that didn’t even attempt to cover his plump ass. Frederick, though completely covered--pressed trousers and one of Will’s plaid button-ups underneath a blazer--felt exposed.
He was opened, spread beneath silk briefs. The stem of the plug was perhaps an inch in diameter, but it was enough. Enough to maintain heat high on his cheekbones, to make his mouth slip open.
The maitre d’ was polite enough to not mention the way he shifted, putting his whole weight on one foot and then the other. He found himself snapping his mouth shut every few minutes once seated, lips parting with the increased pressure to his prostate.
When Will was shown to their table, he could barely stand up to embrace his lover. The detective had a healthy amount of stubble, his hair curled, with tired eyes that brightened once cast on Frederick. He wore an olive shirt, wrinkled. Frederick couldn’t care--he’d longed for Will since they’d parted in the early morning, an aching thing that had grown more ferocious with time, feral when he’d decided to shove a sex toy in his ass before attending an expensive meal at an esteemed restaurant.
He’d really fucked himself over.
“ Long day?” Will had settled into his chair, spread the white napkin crisply over his lap.
And no, it really hadn’t been. Frederick wasn’t going to clue Will in so early. He shook his head, smirking around another sip of wine. “ Normal--seemed like it dragged on forever, though. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Will’s smile was easy, softening the creases in his brow, producing dimples in his cheeks. He reached across the tabletop to clasp Frederick’s hand in his own.
“ Looks great. You already order for us? She didn’t give me a menu.”
Frederick nodded again. Words were escaping him. The second time sitting seemed worse than the first. He knew his cock was more than half-hard now. He knew he was biting his lip, his grip too tight and improper on the stem of his wineglass. His focus was on not panting--not grinding down, not to grab Will by the front of his shirt and drag him to the men’s room. All senses outside of the barely-there touch of rubber on his prostate were dulled.
He closed his mouth again, swallowed a moan. There was wine in Will’s glass now. He was concerned. The grip on Frederick’s hand had tightened, thumb sweeping over his knuckles.
“ Are you feeling alright?”
“ Fuck,” Frederick wanted to lay his head on the cool wood of the table--he was already making a fool of himself. Might as well fess up before it got much worse. “ I’m not sick. You’re going to laugh at me.”
Will’s concerned frown deepened. “ No, come on. I don’t want you to be miserable the whole night.”
Frederick eyed him skeptically.
“ I’ll text it to you.”
Their hands detached. He typed quickly, thankful for the dimness. Frederick could feel his blush growing, hot on his neck.
[SMS: Detective Sexy] remember that plug we bought
Frederick’s fingers hovered over the touch screen. He avoided the looks Will was sending him.
[SMS: Fred] Yes.
[SMS: Detective Sexy] im wearing it
Frederick sighed, pressed send and then watched Will’s expression shift. He held back a snigger, but the look he gave Frederick was predatory. “ Yeah?”
“ I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“ You were trying to prove me wrong by--” Will held up his hands when Frederick glared at him. “ Okay, alright, not at dinner. Fine. Look at your phone.”
[SMS: Fred] And you expect me to sit through how many courses? Fucking christ you’ll kill me.
Frederick blushed. The toe of Will’s boot rubbed his ankle. Another message appeared.
[SMS: Fred] You really didn’t think this through.
[SMS: Fred] Because i’m gonna end up fucking you before we leave this place.
“ I’m only a man.” Will’s eyes had darkened, his voice gone gravelly.
Frederick took a too-large swallow of his wine and glanced at his watch. The first course was set to come out in ten minutes. Considering he was already prepped…
[SMS: Detective Sexy] meet me in the handicap stall. give it a minute.
“ Fuck, baby--”
“--Quiet!” Frederick shushed, biting back a groan as the tapered end of the plug slid free of his body. He could feel the small gape left in its wake, knew that Will was staring at it hungrily. The other man’s fingers were squeezing his cheeks, thumbs pressing into his swollen rim.
His voice was broken, desperate when he begged, “ Please.”
The blunt head of Will’s cock pressed against his hole, meeting minimum resistance before sliding home. Frederick’s eyelids fluttered shut, his hands scrabbled at the marble walls as he pushed his hips back, chasing the pleasure Will brought.
They sat back to the table with a minute to spare, shirts straightened and hair un-mussed.
Frederick found it easier to focus more on their meal, and less on the returned plug, even if it was now holding Will’s cum inside of him. His mind slowed with satisfaction, and Will moved to sit next to him instead of across.
They shared gifts and soft words over candle light. The wine flowed freely, small plates consumed by hands and silverware in kind. His small moans were mistaken as satisfaction with their meals. By the third course, Frederick’s cheeks were heating again with the burn of too much alcohol, his inner turmoil quieted and muscles humming with pleasure--from the stretched position Will had fucked him in earlier, from being so close to the man he was so in love with.
He was a lucky man, to have someone like Will--still filled with passion, infatuation, even retaining the hunger of their early bedroom encounters, after three years. Frederick could only do his part to stoke that fire in the future, intentional or not.
Chapter 23: Graduation
Will reminisces on how his and Frederick's lives changed after adopting their daughter.
for hannibalsketches, who is graduating tomorrow!!!!!
we've been throwing this headcanon back and forth for quite a while now!
Will watched as Frederick combed his hair yet again, fixing the part to hide the patches of silver that interspersed his thick, brown locks. His hands brushed at a stubborn cowlick, his face reflected into the mirror with a determined expression.
After ten minutes of sitting on the end of their bed, fully dressed and ready to go, Will stood.
“ You’re gonna make us late. Bev didn’t even take this long.”
The words held no bite, only a teasing tone at his husband’s vanity. After all these years, Frederick still cared so much for what others thought of him and his appearance. Will knew that the other man’s effort would go to waste when they spent hours under the sun, the humidity typical of late spring curling every hair out of place.
Frederick turned around and pouted endearingly, full bottom lip sticking out. " I don't want to look old."
" Always gotta be the cool dad."
Will wrapped an arm around Frederick's waist from behind, rested his chin on the man's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to Frederick's temple. " Pretty sure Bev doesn't care. And she's really not gonna care if we don't make it there."
Frederick's face softened in the mirror, eyebrows drawn down and eyes solemn. He looked close to tears. Will tightened his grip.
" She's all grown up, you know?" Frederick's voice was thin. He closed his eyes, let his head fall back to Will's chest.
" Doesn't mean she won't still need us." Will thought briefly of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, but quickly pushed the feelings of dread away. "She's only graduating high school, Fred. Bev will always be our baby girl, you know that."
Frederick nodded, but there were tears escaping from where his lids were tightly shut. Will was glad that Beverly had left early for the final rehearsal with her friends.
He gathered his husband into his arms properly, feeling Frederick's body quiver with suppressed sobs. They sat together on the bed, fingers interlocked. Will let Frederick cry into his shoulder, listened to him blubber out a few sentences about how it had seemed like only a year ago that they'd brought her home from the airport—it had been nearly a two decades. Of the two of them, Frederick had been the wildly sentimental one. He'd made nearly seven scrapbooks alone for the first two years that Beverly had spent in America with them, reducing it to a yearly occurrence thereafter.
As with everything else, Will had a hard time conveying his love to his daughter. The love he felt for her was the purest emotion he'd ever experienced. More than his own given family, more than Frederick.
Seventeen years ago, Frederick came home from a psychiatric conference in southern China. He'd brought home with him not the usual souvenir magnets that were clustered on the side of their refrigerator, but an infant with a head full of dark hair. She was small, in a brand new pink onesie. Frederick had explained in a rush of breath that a woman living down the street from the hotel he'd stayed at heard someone call him doctor, begged him to check out her daughter, who was sick. The girl was less than two months old. Her mother couldn't take care of her, couldn't provide her with medicine. She'd been about to leave her at the orphanage, but the poor thing had contracted a respiratory illness. When Frederick finally held her, the young woman ran away. So Frederick took her.
Will never asked where the sudden compassion had come from. He didn't have time to think about it.
The paperwork was half finished by the time that Frederick landed in Virginia. She was allowed to enter the country due to her poor health, after being cleared for SARS. In the following weeks there were visits to the doctor, from the department of social services, to the furniture store, to the baby store, from the social worker again, and then back to the pediatrician.
It took a year for Beverly to become a citizen of the United States. It took two years for Will to sleep through the night, so afraid was he of himself. How was he supposed to take care of an infant? He'd barely had a father of his own—hours were spent wondering what damage would he do to the sweet being that laid silent through the whole night now, who blinked huge eyes up at him, and patted her chubby hands on each dog every morning.
Without needing to look at the scrapbooks, Will could remember everything. Her first badge in Girl Scouts. Kissing the top of her head goodbye before her first overnight sleepover. Inductions into honor societies, going on college visits with his stomach flipping, trying not to threaten the guy who took her to prom. There was enough for a series of movies.
This was the biggest one, the climax of their marathon. He knew it, Frederick knew it. Beverly was likely aware, but not to the extent that she understood, or even recognized, the fear her fathers felt.
When Frederick seemed to be coming back to himself, sniffling and wiping his eyes, Will reminded him of the time that she'd spit up on his suit right as he'd picked her up out of the car, already late to a meeting of the board of trustees to the hospital. The sitter had cancelled, she was going to be joining him. Beverly proceeded to laugh and squeal throughout the entire hour.
The grant money increased.
Frederick punched his shoulder through his laughter. His tears were mostly dried up. " It was not funny. She was a little shit."
" So were you," Will retorted with a raised eyebrow. He straightened Frederick's shirt collar and tugged him by the wrist so they were both standing. They needed to leave. " If I recall correctly, somebody always forgot to call over Price or Zeller for every quarter meeting."
" We should have an oil painting of her in the entryway. Beverly Chilton-Graham State Hospital for the Criminally Insane."
Will pulled a face. He double checked the water and food bowls for the dogs, as well as the smaller two set atop of a tall cat tower. Beverly had left her mark everywhere.
It was sticky-hot outside where the hundreds of seats were lined up. Beverly's graduating class was relatively small, but the families large. There was a fair amount of programs being turned into makeshift fans.
Although not valedictorian, she gave a lengthy speech about the meaning of community. When her name was called, Beverly took large strides across the stage. Their gowns were blood red, hers draped with three cords--two honors and one given by the local blood bank for volunteers and donors. Frederick probably took a thousand pictures and blatantly ignored the request to hold all applause until the end.
Will held Frederick’s hand and caught her eye. Beverly’s face split into a large grin before she threw her cap into the air, loose hair now caught by the wind. There was a swarm of bodies, families going to their recent graduates, classmates squealing in delight at the end of a significant chapter of their lives.
Will looked to Frederick, who was watching Beverly fondly, eyes now free of tears.
“ She’s gonna be fine.”
Frederick squeezed Will’s hand, nodded to indicate that their daughter was coming their way. “ I know.”
Chapter 24: Reputation
Cuban Bakery AU: Hannibal interferes
inspired by the scene where Chilton marches into Hanni's cell in 3.12
Warnings: Blow jobs
“ Quantifiably bitchy,” Frederick snarled.
Dust from the flour puffed up, clouding his vision. He resisted the urge to flip the bowl entirely, to spill the dry mixture onto his workspace. Perhaps he’d cracked the egg too forcefully, seeing as there was shards of shell floating around the broken yolk.
Maybe the review was justified. He couldn’t even crack a fucking egg.
Frederick could taste salt on his lips. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, stinging from his eyes. It wasn’t worth saving the batter. Fat drops of liquid dripped from his nose to the separation of oil and egg. With the last dredges of his anger, he shoved the ceramic mixing bowl sliding the counter to crash into the stainless steel sink.
He didn’t hear the back door opening, but there Will was, sunlight streaming in behind him. His uniform was crisp, white shirt freshly ironed and badge glinting on his hip. The light highlighted his barely tamed curls with chestnut and shadowed his downturned lips.
Will closed the door as Frederick sunk into the desk chair on the other side of the kitchen. He rested his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands. There was vanilla on his palms. The footsteps stopped.
“ You okay?”
Frederick sat up and looked at the man crouched before him. Will’s fingers settled on his knee, pushing his apron back to rub through his slacks.
“ Not really.” He threaded his own fingers through Will’s hair, breaking the bond of product on the curls.
“ Wanna talk about it?”
Thinking about the blog post that could be revealed on his desktop with the shake of his mouse made Frederick’s blood boil. It was hot enough in the kitchen without his added frustration. There was work to be done, orders to go out. Offensive remarks or not, Frederick still had a business to run.
On the other hand, he had another pastry chef for a reason. Will’s shift was over, he knew, and his best work was not going to be produced with this mindset.
Frederick stood, helping Will up. He pressed a kiss to the officer’s brow and the corner of his lips. “ Can you wait out in the car for me? Give me like five minutes.”
Without waiting for an answer, Frederick headed to the front of the shop. He locked the front door and flipped the sign to say Closed.
“ I’m heading out early. There’s two catering orders left to go out, don’t worry about sales inside today. I fucked up the last batch of yellow cupcake batter. Once that gets in the oven, you’re good for icing and shipment. Abigail should be in at four to deliver.”
Beverly nodded, concern etched across her face. She was professional enough to not bring anything up and they were close enough to warrant a small hug before he headed out the back.
Will’s cruiser was idling in the loading area. Snow had started to fall in the hours that had passed since Frederick holed up in the windowless kitchen. The sun was shining, reflecting into his eyes. He walked around the front of the car, trailing his bare fingers in the collecting flakes. Will had cleared his laptop and equipment from the passenger seat. The interior was pleasantly warm.
They drove in silence. Chatter from the police scanner buzzed in the background, but Frederick focused on the warm weight of Will’s hand in his own, the periodic glowing of red and green lights in his line of vision. He felt numb, a superficial calm that contained raging anger and hurt. The facade had cracked earlier in the kitchen. Frederick could feel the foundations wobbling once more.
When Will tugged his hand free, Frederick knew they were back at his apartment. He stepped carefully out of the car, even though it wasn’t cold enough for ice. His entire being felt unstable.
By the time they were both inside his townhouse, Frederick’s teeth were chattering. Will moved to embrace him, but Frederick batted the fingers away, maneuvered Will back against the sofa until he sat, and then dropped to his knees before the detective. He unzipped and unbuttoned Will’s slacks with practiced ease.
Will’s cock was half hard when Frederick guided it out, fully erect after he gave it a few cursory strokes lubed with spit. The strong salty taste was familiar on his tongue. The weight of the head was comforting on the back of his throat. Frederick closed his eyes and bobbed along the length. His fragile neutrality was a pulsating thing, throbbing with the rhythm of Will’s blood circulation. He could feel it threatening to burst, a crumbling that would allow his overwhelming sense of inferiority to show outwardly. Frederick gripped Will’s knees to center himself.
Fingers tightened in his hair. A sharp tug was the only warning Frederick had before semen pooled on his tongue and slid down his throat. He swallowed thickly around the load, coughing when the flaccid cock slipped from his lips. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes when he settled his ass onto his heels.
Will’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the swell of his lips. “ Fred…”
Frederick shook his head even as he leaned into the palm.
“ I’m here for you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”
“ It’s stupid,” he insisted. “ So fuckin’ stupid but I’m thrown off my game, I feel like I will fail. I’ll become what he thinks I am, what they all think I am.”
Will stayed silent. Frederick shifted to sit back against the base of the couch. He let out a pleased sigh when Will’s fingers threaded back into his hair, massaging gently at his scalp. Theirs was a comfortable, understanding silence. No need for words, no pressure to speak until ready.
“ I’ve seen a lot of hostility in my life,” Frederick sighed.
“ This was different.”
“ Who is he?”
Frederick fidgeted with his fingers. He didn’t want to own up to his failures. “ Hannibal Lecter. Psychiatrist cum chef. He attended an event that I had catered the dessert for.”
“ And he wrote something?” Will was actively trying not to impose his empathy onto their conversation.
“ A nasty blog article. All the high society in Baltimore read it apparently.”
“ I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Will’s voice was sincere, the light scratch of his nails sympathetic. Frederick climbed onto the couch next to the detective and leaned heavily against him. His shirt smelled like stale coffee and beignets from Caliente.
“ I just don’t want to lose business. He’s influential and all of those dinner parties, the lecture series. That’s so much of my profit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “ But there’s nothing I can do.”
“ Want me to arrest him?”
Frederick barked out a laugh, threw his head back to fondly gaze at Will. The detective’s expression was serious, but there was mirth glittering in his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“ What? I could get the smug bastard on slander and libel. Your dessert arrangements are fucking delicious and everyone in the metropolitan area knows it. The BPD loves you.”
Frederick blushed. He stood, offered his hand to help Will up. They made their way to the bedroom slowly, with wandering fingers and longing gazes.
“ You don’t need me to arrest him, though,” Will insisted when they fell naked into the bed. “ Your talent stands on its own, Fred. I’ll talk to the captain, get you to cater a few government events. Caliente is an amazing bakery.”
“ I love you,” Frederick sighed sincerely. It was two in the afternoon, his lover was kissing down the length of his torso, and things would work out. Hannibal Lecter may have power and influence, but Frederick had Will. After all, that’s all he really needed.