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Therapeutic Benefits of Paroxysm

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“You haven’t been sleeping, Will.”

“I’ve been sleeping.” Will twisted the edge of his flannel in his hands. It was a tic, maybe less of a nervous one than just something to do to keep his hands busy. “Humans can’t survive with no sleep.”

“You are getting very little sleep, then.” This time Will didn’t argue. “While insufficient sleep may not kill you as quickly as no sleep at all, the affects will accumulate over time. Paranoia. Reduced reaction time. Hallucinations. I expect you are already feeling some of these.”

Will heaved a sigh and dropped into his designated chair. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it. I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“Of course not.” Hannibal uncrossed his legs. Today his suit was blue with fine white lines. Will, by contrast, had picked his clothes at random from his closet while chugging enough coffee to make up for the fact that he’d tossed and turned all night. The energy had lasted until around two p.m., and by now a bone-deep exhaustion weighed on him. The worst part was that no matter how tired he was, once he went home and crawled into bed, he knew he wouldn’t find any rest. He’d do the same thing he’d done last night, and the night before that, and the night before that. Lying there, staring at the ceiling and listening to his dogs breathing around him until he finally slipped into an hour, maybe two, of sleep that ended with him gasping for air and shaking off the bloodshed he saw when he closed his eyes.

“I’d love to sleep. I’m so tired all the time.”

“It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Hannibal said. “You are concerned about not being able to sleep. It builds until the anxiety itself prevents you from falling asleep. The longer it lasts, the more tired you get, and the more you worry.”

Will rubbed his eyes with one hand. He didn’t wear glasses in here. Not after Hannibal had seen him kill Garrett Jacob Hobbs and chose not to run. Hannibal had seen some dark parts of him and never flinched. “So, what? I’m doomed to never sleep again?”

“Of course not. We’d all be dropping like flies if that was the only end of this cycle.” Hannibal leaned forward. “I’m sure you’ve tried some methods for sleep aid.”

“If you’re talking about sleeping pills, I don’t want them.” Will tensed, but Hannibal only tilted his head. “I sleep in the middle of my living room for a reason. I need to be able to…react. I can’t…”

“The idea of being unable to snap into action if threatened unsettles you,” Hannibal filled in. “If you were in a drugged sleep, you would be groggy if you could be awoken at all. It isn’t an unreasonable fear for someone with your particular history.”

“Yeah.” It was clear that Hannibal wasn’t going to try to cajole him into sleeping pills like some other doctors had tried, and that alone made Will relax. “But I’ve tried…you know, I’ve had lavender tea and…I’ve tried the whole no screens late at night thing, or…you know…”

“Everything the mommy blogs suggest,” Hannibal said dryly.

“Exactly.”

“But one might point out that their advice is meant for women stressed about martial problems or childcare. Not someone who deals with the most gruesome of humanity on a daily basis.”

“Something like that.” Will rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m just so tired.”

Hannibal hummed, looking somewhere in the middle distance. Sometimes Will thought he could hear his mind working. The typical phrase was “gears turning”, but it didn’t seem elegant enough for someone like Hannibal. “I would like to suggest some alternative therapy.”

“Like what?” Will’s brow furrowed. “Hypnosis?”

Hannibal let out a quiet breath of laughter. “Not quite. You’re aware of my time as a doctor of the physical before I turned to the mind?”

“Yeah, you were a surgeon. What, you’re going to cut into me?”

That one didn’t earn a laugh, but it did get him one of those quietly amused looks that might have been a chuckle from someone else. “No, Will. Just because I was a surgeon did not mean all I did was surgery. There was plenty of work to do outside of the operating theater. And while that is no longer my profession, if you’ll allow me a bit of vanity, I think it has given me an unique perspective on the relationship between the mind and the body that many of my colleagues cannot grasp.”

Will sat back in the chair. “Okay. So what does this have to do with my sleeping?”

Hannibal steepled his fingers and pressed them to his mouth. “What are your sexual habits, Will?”

Let it never be said that Hannibal couldn’t surprise him. Will was positive he’d heard that wrong for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your sexual habits. Do you masturbate?”

“Do I-“ Will squinted at him, bewildered. “What- why?”

“Sexual release is a healthy bodily function in most adults. In addition to the feelings of sexual pleasure, it floods the brain with dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin- all things that make us feel relaxed and content. A natural antidepressant.”

“I- Jesus Christ.” Will grimaced. “I…Yeah, I masturbate. I guess.”

“How frequently?”

“I- God, I don’t know.” He crossed his arms. “It’s…a…I guess a few times a…it’s been awhile. I’ve been tired and that’s- it’s not like I’m feeling super energetic lately. And I’m not going to come home from a crime scene and-“ Hannibal was just watching him patiently and it made Will feel hot under the edges of his flannel shirt. “Once a week. I guess. Lately.”

“Hm. And how do you generally do it?”

“What the- why?”

“Will, trust that any questions I ask are for your benefit,” Hannibal said evenly. “I am not doing this to embarrass you. Even if this was not a clinical environment, I would hope that as your friend you would trust that I would never judge you for anything you reveal.”

“Right. Christ. Sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “Um. In the shower?”

“Mm. Do you usually only use direct genital stimulation?”

Will felt like he might burn up. This had better have a point, or he was going to skip his next appointment out of sheer embarrassment. “As opposed to what?”

“Prostate stimulation.”

“No. Fuck. I just- yeah, I just- touch it.”

Again, Hannibal nodded and got that thinking look on his face. Right now Will wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face. He couldn’t take sitting there like a bug under a microscope any longer and got up, running his fingers alone the spines of the books on Hannibal’s shelves. Hannibal’s voice drifted from behind him. “Have you had penetrative sex?”

“Yes.” He swallowed hard, staring at the books as if they’d personally offended him.

“Receiving party?”

“What?”

“Perhaps I should be more direct. Maybe these clinical terms are making this conversation more difficult.”

“Yeah, please.” Will turned around, finally able to face Hannibal again. “Just say it.”

“Very well.” Hannibal stood, hands tucked in his pockets. “Have you been on- let’s say, the bottom in penetrative sex?”

“Oh.” Actually, maybe this was worse. “No.”

“Nothing? Even a woman with a toy?”

“No.” Will let out a shuddering breath. Alana would have been the type, if he was honest, but that was clearly never going to happen. “Just- you know.”

“Penis in vaginal intercourse.”

To hear Hannibal say penis in his polished accent almost started a laugh out of Will. “Yeah.”

“I see.” Hannibal drummed his fingers over the surface of his desk. “I would like to try something a little unorthodox as part of your insomnia treatment.”

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve been building to,” Will snapped, feeling as if he’d been played with.

“Am I wrong in my statement that your sexual relationships have been…marked by disorder or otherwise ended badly?”

Will reflected on the few lovers he’d had. Trying not to think about how he could notice the tells of an unhappily married woman. Another woman who’d broken up with him when he’d woken up screaming. Alana. Other faces, all ending because of how broken he was inside. Eventually he’d just stopped trying. “You aren’t wrong.”

“I would like to try the concept of release we spoke of, Will. But I think that your traditional methods may be so tied to these unhealthy relationships that it has tainted your experiences. If you tried to reach release on your own, as you’ve always done, I don’t think it would be much of a relaxation for you at all.”

Will watched his fingers meet the top of the desk. “What’s the alternative?”

“Getting you to that flood of oxytocin and serotonin in an entirely new way, one you haven’t experienced before and isn’t linked to any negative experiences. I think that if we can allow you to get to an acceptable level of relaxation for sleep, it will break that cycle and your current bout of insomnia, at least, will be eased.”

Will ran his tongue over his lips. “What…what do you mean by ‘getting me there’?”

“I would like to attempt prostate stimulation.”

He jerked. “Jesus- Hannibal, are you talking about-“

“It would be no more invasive than your typical prostate exam,” Hannibal explained coolly. “We would do it here, in my office. Absolutely confidential, just a medical procedure.”

“A medical procedure that would involve you-“ Will made a half-hearted gesture with his hand.

“Bringing you to orgasm, yes. Remember, Will, I was a doctor for many years. I promise you that nothing that happens can embarrass or shock me. I will wear gloves and everything will be sanitary. You won’t even be looking at me.”

Will let out a shuddering breath. “This seems…weird.”

“Perhaps. But a typical doctor would suggest sleeping pills at this point. Or reducing stress. But you and I both know that this situation, and the demons that keep you from sleep, are anything but typical.” Hannibal shrugged, an easy roll of one shoulder. “This was an acceptable treatment in the Victorian era. It is hardly a novel idea.”

“I don’t know.” Will scrubbed a hand down his face. “It just…I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”

“I would never press you to do something if you do not wish to, Will. If you decide you don’t want to explore this, we can never speak of it again.” He gave Will that half-smile of his. “But over this next week, if your insomnia persists, I hope that you would keep an open mind. I will ready things for the treatment just in case you decide you want to give it a try at our next appointment, but there is no pressure. It’s your call.”


When Will had left the office, he had been certain that he would have told Hannibal no way, never, let’s not speak of it again. But lack of sleep had a way of fraying his nerves in ways that he didn’t think he could experience. The world was beginning to slip into unreality, like an oil painted smudging at the edges. Even the concept of lying in bed was becoming more and more like torture. The weight of his eyelids mocked him. He knew that even if he managed to finally get a few blessed moments of sleep, he’d awaken gasping and clawing at some invisible threat.

By the time his next appointment rolled around, Will Graham was truly and genuinely desperate.

“Will,” Hannibal greeted him, poised as always. He didn’t look like he’d been losing sleep, and Will was so jealous he almost hated him. “Come in. How have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” Will mumbled, keeping his hands in his pockets. He didn’t go right to his chair- this conversation seemed easier if he could move around.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Hannibal perched on the edge of his own chair. “How is your current case going?”

“I can’t do any more work until they get results back from the lab.”

“They do their best to rush the work in cases like this. Hopefully it won’t take too long.”

Will sighed, gripping one side of the ladder. Delaying this topic felt like waiting for a blade over his head to drop. “I’ve been thinking about…what you suggested last time.”

“Ah.” He could hear the sound of Hannibal rising from the chair, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”

“You knew I was going to agree.”

“I hoped, because I think this would help you. It’s clear that your sleep schedule has not improved.”

“I think it’s gotten worse. I just…I can’t do this anymore.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” His voice was unexpectedly close now. “Will, please look at me.”

Will swallowed, finally turning away from the wall. Hannibal was in front of him, smiling softly. “I would encourage you to put your nerves at ease as much as you can. This is a simple procedure. If you do not get any benefit from it, we will continue to explore other methods.”

“Right, right.” Will rubbed the back of his neck. Just a simple procedure that would entail his therapist and friend putting his finger in his ass until he came. “Okay, so should I… Like, on the- the chair, or-“

He stopped speaking as Hannibal wheeled over a small table he hadn’t even noticed through his nerves. It was rectangular, about five feet long and three feet wide, and slightly padded on top. Hannibal picked up a package from the top, opened the plastic, and handed Will something that felt like a small blanket made of paper towel. “If you’ll undress, please. You can leave your shirt on, if it makes you more comfortable, but please remove all clothing on your lower half. You may use the covering until we start.”

Oh. Will looked down at the blanket-thing, cheeks heating up, and considered leaving altogether. Could sleep be worth this? But Hannibal was setting up the table, using his foot to engage the locking mechanism on the wheels, and it seemed…rude to back out now.

Will tried to get undressed as perfunctorily as possible, tucking his socks inside his shoes before removing his pants and, after a deep breath, his underwear and leaving both folded on the chair. He wrapped the covering around his waist like a towel before he could get too unnerved by the sheer strangeness of being naked from the waist down in his therapist’s office. After some internal deliberation, he decided to take off his flannel shirt but leave on his undershirt. Just a small layer to keep him from being entirely naked.

“Good.” Hannibal gestured at the table. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Will’s face felt entirely too hot. “So, should I bend over it, or?”

“Not quite. You’ll be lying on it.”

Oh. Okay. He seemed to remember that prostate exams weren’t given while lying on the table, but then this wasn’t exactly a normal exam, was it? Making sure to keep the covering on, he sat on the table, moving to roll over, but was stopped unexpectedly by a hand on his hip.

“No, Will.” Hannibal almost sounded amused. “Face up, please.”

Face up? But how would Hannibal get to his- Christ. Okay. Hannibal must know what he was doing. A method to the madness. Will settled back on the table, pulling himself up entirely. It was a little too short to stretch his full body length on, and his legs below his knees dangled off.

“Very good, Will. Now, if you’ll just scoot closer to the edge, here.” Will slid his hips down another few inches, and Hannibal clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No, more. Come on, now.” His hands returned to Will’s hips, touching them through the thin paper covering, urging Will further and further down on the table until he thought his lower body might fall off. “There we are.”

Hannibal busied himself with something at the edge, and with a snick an apparatus slid out of the end, swinging up at a forty-five degree angle from the bed. Another followed, and Hannibal’s fingers gently touched the ball of Will’s ankle. “If you’d just rest your feet here, please.”

It’s a fucking stirrup, Will realized all at once, and how the hell was he supposed to react to that? “You want me to put my feet in those?”

“Yes, Will,” Hannibal said patiently, as if it was obvious. “I’m going to need full access in order to complete the treatment. It would be counterintuitive if you had to mindfully keep yourself still the entire time. This way you can relax and just let me work without worrying about ruining the process.”

Well- he was probably right, Will wasn’t the best at keeping entirely still under pressure. His fight or flight reflex was certainly alive and well. Slowly, he lifted one leg, then the other, and let his ankles rest in the grooves.

He was rewarded with a smile, and then Hannibal was lifting a black strap attached to the stirrup and looping it around his left ankle. “What- what are you doing?”

“I’m securing your feet,” Hannibal replied, tightening the strap. “Is it loose enough? It should be firm, but not cut off circulation.”

“It’s- it’s fine, but why?”

“You might twitch, Will. It’s a sensitive area. I would rather not be kicked in the face during. It would be a rather unfortunate black eye to explain.”

Will tried to let out a slow breath. Right. That made sense. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. I want you feeling comfortable with this.” As soon as his legs were secured, Hannibal reached for his hips one last time and pulled him even closer to the edge of the table. Will let his head fall back, feeling wildly exposed with his ankles up in the air and cool air on his cock and ass. At least the sheet was still covering him, at least for now.

“Ah, yes. I did bring one more thing.” Hannibal left, busying himself with something on his desk. Will twisted to watch him, his heart beating in his throat. Hannibal returned with two L-shaped metal rods, snapping one into the bed approximately to the right of Will’s waist, then the other to the left. The sides connected in the middle above him. Next, Hannibal pulled out a medical-looking white sheet not dissimilar to a thicker version of what was hiding Will’s lower half. This was affixed to the rod above Will, creating a curtain that draped down, cascading over Will’s waist and hiding everything below it from Will’s eyes.

“I thought you may be more at ease if you aren’t watching the procedure,” Hannibal explained. He snapped on a blue medical glove and a lump caught in Will’s throat. “Keeping it as simply a matter of sensation might make it seem less strange for you.”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. That…that made sense too. “Thank you.”

Hannibal pulled on the other glove. He pulled one more thing from below his desk- a large bottle of lubricant, and Will had to fight back the urge to bolt. As it was, his ankles tensed in the restraints.

He felt a touch on his knee, latex with a warm hand underneath. “Just be calm, Will. Think about the rest you’ll get tonight. How nice it will feel.”

“Right.” He let out a shuddering exhale. “Nice.”

Will could feel the thin sheet being lifted until it rested on his abdomen, just above his groin. Fuck. Hannibal could see all of him, now. He suddenly felt self-conscious. Should he have shaved? He did some minimal trimming to his pubic area, but maybe he should have done something more-

The touch on his hole made him jolt, stirrups rattling with the movement of his legs. “Will,” Hannibal’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “I’m aware that this is new for you, but I really must encourage you to relax.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He blinked up at the ceiling, hands curling into fists at his sides as Hannibal’s- thumb? He couldn’t tell- rubbed over the area. The lubricant, which had been cold at first, was warming against his skin.

“There are straps above your head,” Hannibal continued, “that you can hang onto if you find this overwhelming.”

Will tipped his head back and found that yes, the top of the table had two black loops not dissimilar to the ones that Hannibal had secured around his ankles. “I’ll remember that.” He couldn’t see himself ever using them. God, he already felt vulnerable enough, he couldn’t imagine choosing to stretch his arms over his head. He crossed his arms over his stomach at the thought, only to dig his nails into his forearms at the first press in.

It had to just be one of Hannibal’s fingers, but it felt so big inside him, and a gasp tore from Will’s throat. “Hannibal, that’s-“

“I apologize if I surprised you.” He could nearly hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice. “I was afraid if I warned you, you’d tense up all over again.”

“Fair point,” Will breathed, letting his head fall back against the table.

“Any pain?”

The finger inside him began moving, just a slow push-pull in and out that had Will fighting the urge to squirm. “No. No pain. Just feels- strange.”

“Good. Let me know if that changes.” Hannibal kept moving at that steady, even pace. Will flexed his fingers against his arms, trying to category the sensations. It didn’t hurt, as he’d said, but he felt…weird. Wasn’t the point of this to make Will come? He didn’t see how this would-

A-ah!”The sound was punched out of him without his permission as the next slide in hit something that sent sparks up his spine.

Hannibal chuckled from the other side of the curtain. “There it is.”

Before Will could respond, Hannibal was twisting his finger and touching it more firmly, stealing the breath from Will’s lungs. Prostate, he thought in a daze, right. Apparently no response was needed because Hannibal just kept going, keeping that same steady thrust that had Will’s shoulders pressing to the table as his back arched.

Abruptly the finger inside him vanished altogether and Will shifted in confusion. The treatment wasn’t over yet, not as he’d understood it. “Hannibal?”

“Just a moment.” A few seconds later the touch returned and Will suddenly understood why it had left. Hannibal must have been getting more lube, since this time there were two fingers pushing inside him. The strangeness morphed into a stretch that burned, but he couldn’t focus on it when Hannibal found his prostate again with a laser focus. With two fingers he could use a firmer touch, making Will’s head spin.

“Will?”

“M- mm-hm?” It was a struggle to get the noise out.

“How does it feel?”

Will shuddered as the unrelenting touch drove sharp spikes of pleasure into his stomach and thighs. “Good. Feels- good.”

“I confess, I was surprised when you said you’d never experienced prostate stimulation before,” Hannibal murmured. Will dropped his hands to the side of the table, gripping in an effort to ground himself. He was suddenly aware that at some point, his cock had gotten hard, and was now aching for touch. It didn’t seem to phase Hannibal. “You’re not an unattractive man, Will. Rather the opposite. I imagine there’s quite a few men desperate to show you all the pleasures that can be found between your legs.”

Will groaned, a needy noise in the back of his throat that he was helpless to stop. He had to squeeze his eyes shut at the constant throb of pleasure. If he could just touch himself-!

“But then again, there’s no guarantee that just because a lover would be penetrating you that he would introduce you to this.” It felt like a particularly hard thrust punctuated that phrase, and Will’s thighs tensed. “There’s no shortage of selfish or inexperienced lovers. No, an…educated hand is best for these types of things.”

Will had a comeback for that, but it died on his tongue when Hannibal curled his fingers, rubbing firmly over that sensitive spot. “Hannibal, I-“

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna...” He grimaced, hips twitching with aborted urges to roll onto the fingers inside him. “I- touch me, please.” Another time, when he wasn’t strung tightly like strings on a piano, with Hannibal’s fingers plucking out a melody on him, he might be embarrassed by the begging. But now he just wanted to come.

“No, Will. You’re going to climax just from this.”

“I can’t!”

“You can, and you will.”

Will wanted to scream that he couldn’t, the pressure was building and building and he needed to come and God even just a brush of Hannibal’s hand on his cock would set him off, but Hannibal wouldn’t. Hannibal just rubbed inside him like he’d always been there, dragging the most undignified noises out of Will as the coil in his gut kept drawing tighter.

And it kept growing with each brush of Hannibal’s fingers until Will was shaking and he couldn’t, he-

When he came, it was unlike any orgasm he’d had before. Instead of coming from his cock this one seemed to come from his whole self, from his thighs and pelvis and chest and god, he just kept coming, trembling through an endless orgasm as Hannibal kept drawing it out of him with the strokes of his hand.

He finally came back down, panting, tension draining from his body. Jesus. Hannibal wasn’t kidding about a new kind of sensation. Those fingers kept moving in and out, though, and eventually the pleasant post-orgasm shocks turned into sparks of oversensitivity. “Mmh- Hannibal, I’m- ‘s too much.”

“Relax, Will.” But the touch still didn’t stop, and each brush against his prostate was making his legs twitch.

“Hannibal…”

“Ssh. You’ve been doing lovely for me. I know that was a big one. Probably more intense that you’ve felt before. But I think we can get another out of you.”

Another? Another orgasm? “Hannibal,” Will laughed weakly, ankle jerking in the restraints, “I’m not a teenager anymore. I can’t just go again.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Will. You can come again, I’m positive of it. I’ll help you through every step.”

Hannibal’s fingers dug cruelly into the depths of him and Will found himself moaning for a whole different reason. “Hannibal, ‘s too much.”

“I will never give you more than you can handle.”

Will’s next protest was ripped from him entirely as suddenly the stretch seemed to multiply in intensity, and on a distant level he knew that Hannibal had just added a third finger. “F-fuck,” he groaned, eyelids fluttering.

“Talk to me, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was smooth, a wave upon the rocks of Will’s raw psyche. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Full,” he managed to gasp out. “So full.”

“Mm. You could be fuller.” And if that didn’t chase an honest-to-god whimper out of Will’s mouth. “I’ve barely got three of my fingers in you, and you’re taking them magnificently. I’d wager you could take far more. Some men take pleasure in having an entire fist in them. Would you enjoy that, Will?”

Will choked, eyes flying open. He wasn’t sure if it was another idle suggestion or a threat. “N-no, I couldn’t.” The idea of Hannibal’s whole hand inside him, the hands that worked so majestically in the kitchen, was too much for Will to consider right now.

“You could. Not today, but perhaps a thought for another time.” Hannibal sounded so relaxed, as if they were discussing the weather inside of the systematic dismantling of the man shaking apart on the table.

“Hannibal, I- it’s too much, it hurts-“

“It doesn’t. Focus on the feeling, Will. Can you feel me inside you? How each small movement is magnified tenfold? There’s pleasure there, Will, find it.”

Will’s head thrashed back and forth on the table as Hannibal spoke, but even as he did he could feel something beneath the oversensitivity. The threat of pleasure, rising up again. He keened, no longer minding who might hear, toes curling in the stirrups.

“Ah. I see your cock filling again. I told you, there’s pleasure to be had again. Don’t worry. All you have to do is lie back and allow me to bring it out.”

“God,” Will groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. His whole body felt more sensitive than before. The shirt he was wearing was drenched in sweat and he regretted leaving it on.

“Flatterer.” Hannibal gripped Will’s thigh with his free hand, still thrusting into Will with the other.

“I’m gonna come again,” Will panted, not sure if he was talking to himself or to Hannibal or anyone at all. “You’re gonna…make me come again.”

“I am,” Hannibal said amicably. Will felt so full and the feeling of oversensitivity had tipped over into just over-sensitive enough for each press to his prostate to make Will feel weak-kneed. There was something comforting about giving himself over to the inevitability of it; he was going to come on Hannibal’s fingers again and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was lie here, legs held open, and take the pleasure.

“Fuck. ‘S good,” Will slurred, feeling half-drunk. “Yeah, right there.”

“I know, Will.” But he was rewarded regardless with a long grind against where he was most sensitive. “You’re doing so beautifully. You’re so responsive. I’m lucky you never took up any of those young men who would have been eager to show you this. I can’t imagine anything more lovely than your first reactions.”

It felt good, it felt so good, Will couldn’t dream of anything that felt as good as this. He whined, legs tensing in the restraints. “I’m gonna come, Hannibal, I’m gonna- I can’t, I’m-“

If the previous orgasm had come from his whole body, this one came from the very core of himself. It felt like he was being turned inside-out from the intensity of it. He thought he might be screaming, he didn’t care, and those wicked, wonderful fingers kept stroking him through it.

He felt downright drained as he collapsed back on the bed, panting heavily, and as Hannibal’s fingers still didn’t stop he let out a soft wounded noise. “Please. Please, I can’t.”

“One more, Will. You’ve done so good. Just one more for me.”

He felt tears gathering in his eyes. He didn’t remember how it felt to be normal anymore, he was just a mass of nerves in the shape of a man. His world had narrowed down to the fullness inside him. “Hannibal, I can’t, it’s so much.”

“Shh.” Hannibal’s free hand stroked soothingly along his flank. “It’ll feel so good, Will. I’m going to make you feel so good.

Will was making little choked-off sobbing noises. He was nothing but the table under his back and the touch between his legs. He felt both boneless and electrified. “Hannibal.”

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

For a second, the hand withdrew and Will was left shockingly, horribly empty. After being so full for so long it felt downright obscene, especially after Hannibal had promised to wring one more orgasm from him. He wasn’t left waiting for long before something else slid inside him- some sort of tool, he guessed, though his mind was so fried he would be surprised if he could remember his own name.

The instrument was uniform, and thicker than even the fingers. Some kind of sex toy? Maybe a warmed speculum? But the debate flew from his thoughts entirely as Hannibal started thrusting it in with an entirely new rhythm that made the fingers look downright serene. This was a series of brutal thrusts, deep and unrelenting and jarring his prostate with each one.

He was so full and still feeling so much and without conscious thought he reached up for the loops above his head, thankful for something to brace against as his back was ratcheted up the table.

“There, Will. Isn’t that nice?” And was it the fevered haze of Will’s exhaustion, or did Hannibal sound a little breathless? “You take it so wonderfully. I could fill a gallery with the beauty of you wrung out and breathless. But that would mean letting other people see you so unguarded and greedy for it, and I would never let that happen.”

Will was barely processing the words, gripping the straps so hard his knuckles went white. He was too far gone to recognize pain or pleasure anyone, it was all just sensation and he was drowning in it. If he was making noises, he couldn’t tell what they were.

“You’re extraordinary. I would like to see you pulled apart in every way a man can be, and spend the rest of my life leaning how to put you back together.”

For the first time all evening, a hand landed on Will’s cock and he arched his back, nerves flayed raw as Hannibal started stroking. He couldn’t take this. There’s no way one person could take all this. He was going to die here, on this table, with this obscene thickness filling him to bursting.

“One last time. I want to see you come dry, see you give when there’s nothing left to give. Come for me, Will.”

And Will was, this orgasm equal parts pain and pleasure, narrowing his world into a pinprick of a view, and it was everything, everything, and there’s no way he could survive this, he was coming, he was coming-

And the world went black.


Will blinked back to consciousness slowly, like fog rolling over the water. He came back to himself in bits and pieces. He was still wearing his undershirt, but someone had redressed him in his jeans and- he checked- his boxers. He was lying on that ridiculous therapist’s couch in Hannibal’s office, and when he sat up, the ache in his thighs and ass reminded him exactly what had happened.

“Good evening, Will.” He twisted to see Hannibal sitting at his desk, pen moving over a stack of papers.

“Um.” He rubbed his eyes. “How long was I out? What time is it?”

“It’s just a little before midnight.”

“Midnight?” Will gingerly stretched, turning to look fully at Hannibal. “You could have woken me up. You didn’t need to stay this late.”

“I don’t mind. It was an opportunity to catch up on some work. Besides, there’s something meditative about working while someone you care about sleeps securely nearby.” He finished the paper he was on and capped the pen in his hands before turning his gaze on Will. “You slept soundly. No nightmares.”

“Yeah.” Will found himself sheepish, but…Hannibal was right. No visions of stags or murder or blood.

“What I would hope happens, Will, is that when you go home tonight you will be able to continue this unbothered rest.”

“I guess the treatment, uh, worked.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That was- more intense than I expected. God, I don’t even remember the last part. I just remember it being…a lot.”

Hannibal fixed him with a steady gaze. “If I had told you the full details, would you have tried it?”

“I…I guess not.”

“I feared as much. Forgive me for my impropriety, but I was more worried about your sleep cycle than I let on. I thought this treatment was our best option at the time, and I did not tell you everything for fear of scaring you off.”

Will stood, finding his flannel shirt neatly folded nearby. “I’d be pretty mad about that if it hadn’t worked.”

Hannibal smiled, rising and gathering his own things. “But since it did?”

“Since it did I guess you can get away with omitting this once. Don’t make it a habit.”

Hannibal gave him one of those rare toothy smiles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He held open the door for Will as they left, locking it behind them. “And Will?”

“Yeah?”

He rested a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Should the problem return…my door is always open.”