Chapter Text
THREAD: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
federalbureauofinstigation [17 hours ago]
Lapotka Seeking Miewes
Seeking man to torture and devour me at his leisure.
No qualms regarding my end; would prefer process to include cannibalism in which I can partake.
Fresh or fried is dealer’s choice.
Serious inquiries only.ASL: 35/M/USA
[REPLY]
tentapeen [16 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
U want someone 2 eat ur cock?
[REPLY]
slavemaster [16 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
Want sex/kink beforehand? PM me, have some ideas you’re bound (hahaha) to love lol v. interested PM me pls will hurt you real good
[REPLY]
gooddoctor [10 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
Were you seeking a similarly documented demise, @federalbureauofinstrigation?
[REPLY]
federalbureauofinstrigation @gooddoctor [4 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
Seeking effectiveness of Lapotka with the endgame of Miewes.
Documentation up to the chosen candidate, it hardly matters to me once I’m gone.
[REPLY]
gooddoctor @federalbureauofinstigation [3 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
Preferred level of pain?
[REPLY]
federalbureauofinstigation @gooddoctor [3 hours ago]
RE: Lapotka Seeking Miewes
I want to feel everything.
[REPLY]
Will had no patience for time wasters of any kind; this was far from his first time on the forum and considering the things he’d heard from Laim Hart in the Internet Homicide division in the cafeteria he was entirely underwhelmed.
To be fair, he supposed, every chatroom and social media site had its bucket of shit through which to dig for jewels. Fetlife was the same. 4chan. Now Cannibal Cafe. Whoever had come up with that stroke of genius was hopefully no longer part of the server, but to give them credit at least they’d been entirely upfront about what their server was about.
Cannibals eating. Cannibals eating socially. Cannibals seeking meals.
Simple. Effective.
Effective if he could find someone to have him for dinner, Will thought bitterly. He’d been looking for eight days now, half into a bottle of Johnny Red and half out of a can of Baltika, which tasted like battery acid and did its job of keeping Will uncomfortable admirably. He’d been looking and he’d been coming up dry. Maybe he needed to ask Liam about another active chat and try his luck there.
Because he’d hit dud account after dud account so far. He wondered how many teenagers were behind the names populating the server. He wondered how many were women. He waited eagerly for his phone to ring so he could listen to some halfwit whose voice hadn’t even broken explain to him just how he was going to eat Will alive .
He was ready.
Bring it the fuck on.
The clock read eighteen past ten.
He hadn’t slept in three days.
Will had been braced so firmly on the edge of his seat that he nearly fell out of it when the phone finally rang, the caller ID claiming a blocked number. The armchair wobbled ominously; no doubt threatening to give out like the rest of Will’s life.
To Will’s mortification, it was his own voice that cracked when he answered, a tremulous, too-eager “Hello, Doctor.”
A breath, the moment between an uncertain fold and an all-in bid, and then a warm, thickly accented voice replied. “Hello, Lapotka.”
A thrill ran through Will, a rush of heat from the tips of his toes all the way through him. Somehow, he knew that he’d found what he was looking for.
The good doctor was, as it turned out, an actual doctor. “A surgeon, to be precise. We can draw this out for as long as you would prefer. I assure you, I have the resources and the skills necessary to bring you the pain you’re seeking, or to ease you out in comfort if it becomes too much for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Will assured him, “I’m no stranger to pain.”
“Well, best to be prepared ,” the doctor said, sounding amused and not entirely convinced.
“I want this,” Will assured him hastily, “I’ve thought it through. I know what I’m getting into. I am uniquely prepared to know what I’m getting into.”
A hum, thoughtful. Will held his breath. “You’ll forgive me a bit of trepidation, I’m sure.”
“My name is Will Graham,” Will told him. “William Harrison Graham. You can look me up. We can video chat, or I’ll video chat and you can watch. You can have my ID. My social security number.” He wasn’t going to need them, after all, and Will had no fear of being caught in a sting. He was too far gone for fear, first of all, and second of all, of the two of them, Will was technically not doing anything illegal.
Another loaded, curious pause. Will was beginning to feel less like the doctor doubted him, and more like he felt anticipation would better season the meat.
“There are a number of steps I’d like to take before we meet,” the doctor said, “most importantly, I would like to put you on a diet. I will, of course, pay for the groceries, if you are as forthcoming with your bank accounts as you are your personal data.”
Will snorted. “There isn’t much to take, if you were considering clearing them out before the main event.”
Through the phone, the doctor made a sound that warmed Will to the bones. It wasn’t a purr, per se, it was something even deeper, more predatory. Already he was prepared to give up his bank details along with everything else. Hell, if the man wanted him to eat nothing but artichoke hearts for a week Will would do it. As long as he followed through on the rest, and gave Will what he wanted.
“I’ve no desire to strip you of your finances, Will,” the tone suggested he was more than happy to strip Will of other things, however. “I will send you a meal plan for a week, to begin. The finances to cover the ingredients needed. Would that be amenable?”
“Will a week be enough to fatten me up, doctor?”
“ Quite the contrary. The food I have in mind has nothing to do with gaining or losing fat, rather it impacts the taste of the meat.”
Will settled back into his seat as though he were being told a story, a thrum of warmth covering him in a comforting embrace as arousal hummed beneath his skin. “Acorns and oysters?”
Another of those strange purrs from the doctor. “Have you done your research, Will?”
“I’ve seen through the eyes of some curious individuals, doctor. Just putting my useless knowledge to the test for the last time.”
“All knowledge has its uses. But I’m sure we can find you something better suited for the palate.”
They Skyped a week after the first conversation. Will first, carefully settling into view on the bed, holding up the salad he was working on.
“All on the approved list,” he told the empty screen, “Acorns included.”
“Your pictures didn’t do you justice.”
They’d spoken several times over the week, but entirely through online resources, ones where conversation was never saved. Hearing the doctor’s voice again made Will shiver.
“I cleaned up for you,” Will joked. It wasn’t actually a joke. He’d combed his hair for the first time in weeks. “And if you got your information from TattleCrime, Freddie Lounds purposefully takes awful pictures of me.”
“That would be her loss, then.”
Will flushed, pleased. “I’ve been a good boy,” he said with a laugh. “I threw out anything that wasn’t on the list. I made my arrangements months ago.” Before he’d decided on this, back when it had just been suicide he was planning. “I’ve done everything I can to show you I am who I say I am. When do I get to meet you?”
“I had hoped to make plans for that this evening,” the doctor replied, and Will almost choked on his meal.
“Plans to meet,” he asked, “or plans on when to meet?”
“The latter, I’m afraid,” came the amused reply. “I’ve yet to prepare the house for your arrival and I would hate to leave you waiting longer than necessary.”
“Appreciated,” Will replied, opening his mouth deliberately wide before chewing another forkful of the meal he’d been assigned. It felt strangely liberating to be taking orders this way. He’d thought it would feel patronizing, but it was quite the opposite. Nothing like the barked commands of Jack Crawford scratching down his back like nails on a chalkboard.
“Perhaps Friday next?” The doctor added after a comfortable pause in which Will finished his mouthful. “Early evening.”
“So you can have me for dinner?” Will asked, smirking as he considered the terrible pun that drew a pained noise from the blank screen. He wondered if the man behind the voice was just as charming and easy to read as his clicked consonants and warm accent was. “I’ll see if I can pencil you in.”
“I would hate to interfere with a busy schedule.”
“I’ll move some things around, don’t worry.”
Next Friday. It seemed so close, but Will knew it would feel like forever.
He wanted to ask if the doctor was into men, if he would care if being consumed got Will a little hot under the collar. Will had never even seen the man, but he dreamed at night of searing pain and hands all over him.
The things Will saw and the job everyone wanted him to do were too much to handle, but the end of it all was too perfect to be real.
Will’s dreams had always been dark, bloody. From his first hazy recollections as a child, to college wet dreams, to the night terrors that plagued his adult life. Viscera followed him from one plane to the next, slipping through his fingers, pouring from open wounds in his belly.
The first time his mind had eroticized the experience, he’d been impossibly, horrifically drunk.
Will’s college experience had been less socially involved than most, but he still shared the one thing all exhausted young adults did: an unhealthy love of hard liquor.
He’d been moping about an anatomy test, reciting muscle groups from memory, tracing his limbs with the tip of his pencil. He was going to pass. He always did. He stressed about it anyway, drinking late into the night until weariness finally overtook him and he’d passed out at his desk.
He’d dreamed of sharp fangs, of bites along his inner thighs. Someone who told him how sweet he was, how his flesh would nourish them for days. They left blood in the wake of their kisses, tore through muscle with nuzzles of affection.
In the end, they’d wrapped one hand around Will’s cock and the other around his heart. It had still been beating when they bit into it.
Will had awoken terrified, and soaked through with sweat, but also undeniably, unbearably hard.
The doctor picked Will up at his home, where a trap would have been visible from miles away. He stepped out of his car in an honest-to-god suit, and Will was almost instantly lost.
“Did you pack?” He asked, in that thick accent that had haunted Will.
Will held up a small duffle bag. “Comfortable clothes for a few days of feasting, as instructed.”
“Good boy.” The doctor took his bag and opened the passenger door for him, a perfect gentleman considering the purpose of the voyage.
“Do I get a name?” Will asked as they left, slightly pink. “Or do you get off on being called Doctor?”
When the man laughed, Will noticed his teeth were a little crooked. His entire body shivered at the thought of those teeth against his skin and he forced his eyes to the dashboard again, bringing a hand to his face to chew absently at the side of his thumbnail.
“Hannibal,” the doctor finally replied. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”
Will tested the name out against his tongue and found it tasted as good as it sounded. They were quiet for a time, just the hum of the Bentley beneath them, the empty road seemingly swallowed up by the bumper. There would be no street lights until they hit the main road and Will felt like he was floating in a dream. He’d had dreams like that before, dreams of seeing his house as something of an ark in the middle of a foggy uncertainty as his toes froze to the ground beneath him.
“I’m not sure what one says to their devourer,” Will said honestly, after a while. “It might surprise you but I’ve never done this before.”
Hannibal glanced at him, eyes narrowing in pleasure. “No? What an honor for me, then.”
“To be the first person to kill me? In this life, I suppose.”
“Do you believe in reincarnation, Will?”
“I’m not sure,” Will admitted. “I’ve never given much thought to what happens after . I’ve seen enough victims of circumstance, and victims of premeditated horror to hope that there is nothing after.”
“And for you, it would bring peace,” Hannibal surmised. “No horrors left for you but your own.”
“It’s not a horror for me.” Will turned in his seat, giving himself a better view of the man. He suited his voice. Tall, broad. Thoroughly put together. “You’re giving me a dream.”
“Do you regularly dream of blood and pain?”
Will closed his eyes. The night before, he’d dreamed of Hannibal fucking him, ripping arteries from his throat with his teeth at the very peak of their pleasure. “Among other things.”
Hannibal’s smile was understated, but his good humor was clear. “I would have this go well for you, dear Will. Tell me, is there a sexual component to these fantasies?”
Will flushed. He supposed he’d been obvious, but he hadn’t expected to be called out so quickly. “Not if you’re only doing it to appease me.”
“Both Lapotka and Brandes experienced sexual gratification before their deaths,” Hannibal pointed out. “I’d assumed the references would imply the same for you.”
Will snorted softly, easing his cheek against the headrest of his seat. “Do you have any idea how few people even knew who I was talking about beyond the skin-deep Google search those names would come back with?”
“I’ve been in such forums for many months,” Hannibal replied, just as amused. “I’m afraid I’m no stranger to the ignorant.”
“Have you had anyone else over for dinner before?”
“No one worth enjoying,” Hannibal replied, a brief flick of his gaze to Will was enough for Will to close his eyes on a deliberately slow sigh again.
“Yes,” he said finally. “There is a sexual component to this for me. At least from what my mind has conjured.”
“You’ve an incredible mind, Will, I would trust what it’s telling you.”
“I’ve never trusted my mind,” Will laughed. “Not once. I’ve made others’ careers on their trust in it.”
“You have a very impressive record.”
“Do I?” Will drew a hand through his hair and rolled his head with a groan until his neck clicked and he rested back again. He couldn’t sit still, he was never any good at it. But now, in a car with one of the most beautiful men he had ever laid eyes on, the man who would bring him what only his fevered mind had allowed him to imagine, he couldn’t stop fidgeting to save his life.
Good thing he didn’t want that.
“Is there, for you?” He asked after a while. “A sexual component?”
“Before you?” Hannibal asked, with a telling quirk of his lips. “No.”
Will’s heart beat heavy in his throat. “And after me?”
Hannibal’s hand came to rest on Will’s knee. “I would very much like to see where we can take this.”
Hannibal’s house was large and imposing. The door locked behind Will with a final ‘click.’
He felt like he should have been more affected. Hannibal couldn’t let him leave, after all, not that Will had changed his mind. That had been his last look at the sky, his last moment outside, his last breath of fresh air.
But all Will felt was eagerness. He turned to Hannibal and found a matching hungry gaze in his eyes.
Hunger .
“No one worth enjoying,” Will repeated. “I’m the first to come willingly, aren’t I?”
“You are the most vibrant being to ever have a place at my table,” Hannibal said in lieu of an answer.
Will grinned. “That does it for you, doesn’t it? That I want this, that I sought you out. You want me because I want you.”
Hannibal reached for him, a gentle hand over his jaw, fingers grazing his cheek. He moved so slowly, so carefully. As though it was possible for Will to be scared away.
Will gave in and kissed him, pulling him closer with a grip on his lapels.
It had been months since Will had been touched by another human being. It had been years since someone had kissed him well enough for Will to kiss them back. It had been even longer since Will had felt his entire being set on fire with the desperate need to have a person near him, in him, absolutely everywhere.
Hannibal kissed the same way he spoke; fluid and warm, hiding something raging and powerful just beneath the surface. Will wanted to tear that human suit away, to see the monster within. He wanted Hannibal to eat him alive, right then and there, he didn’t care how long it took. He wanted to taste himself on those lips when he kissed him again, wanted Hannibal to swallow the last breath he ever pushed from his lungs.
When he was eased back with a deliberate guiding palm, Will turned to nuzzle into it, breath trembling from him. It didn’t feel like a rejection, it didn’t feel like a mercy for the sake of mercy. It burned so much hotter.
Hannibal drew his thumb beneath Will’s eye, slipped his hand lower and moved the same digit over his lips and Will parted them for him, his own eyes hooded, already so entirely overcome with his need for this.
“Beautiful,” Hannibal whispered.
Will couldn’t help the smile that tilted his lips before he licked it away. “Dinner?”
Hannibal’s smile was wider this time, another hint of those teeth that bent almost like fangs against the ones next to them. It was as arousing as slowly undressing a lover, the brief show of a predator’s grace in a gentleman’s suit.
“Dinner,” Hannibal agreed, leaning close again to rest his nose against Will’s curls as he breathed him in, a low rumble of pleasure at the scent he found. “Dinner first.”