• OUR PET •

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟻 - 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍

I awoke to the feeling of mild pain in my thigh. I sat up, feeling lightheaded, and looked at my leg. There was an almost clear patch that was covering a two inch stitch on my thigh from the knife that was thrown at me. Why would my presumed boyfriend stab me? Not very boyfriend-y if I must say.

I looked at my surroundings and found myself in a small white room filled with medical supplies, the same room I succumbed to the drug in. A tray with all sorts of sharp, medal tools was beside me.

Oh shit... what if they torture me? I tried to escape for fuck's sake! Of course they will!

    Before I could start overthinking, the door to the room opened revealing Will. He had an emotionless expression once again, it was almost impossible to read him. Nothing like when I first woke up in his house.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Well... I think I lost two years of my memory as you guys keep telling me, I'm being held captive by two attractive men, a knife was thrown at me previously, and now I have a fuckin' scar on my leg," I said monotonously, sarcasm coating my last sentence, I flashed a forced smile speaking once again, "Other then that I'm great. How are you?"

"If you didn't try to escape—"

"Any person in their right mind would try to escape," I interrupted him.

"But now you have to face the consequences for your actions," Will slowly walked towards me.

I glanced at the tray of sharp tools, but unfortunately Will knew what I was thinking and pushed the tray away from my side as he stalked towards me. Those fuck me eyes would be the death of me.

"Get inside that pretty, little head of yours that we own you," he smirked.

I glared at him. I was still on the operational table and Will crawled onto it. He was now on top of me, pinning my wrists down so that I couldn't escape. My heart was racing, maybe I even felt a little... ecstatic? First the kinky pet shit thing and now this?

Will kissed my neck, roughly. He found my soft spot and I attempted to hold in the moan that threatened to leave my lips. Will chuckled once he got the reaction he wanted, I let out a soft moan in defeat.

"Giving up so quickly?" He said, smugly.

I tried to move away from him once he tried to kiss me once more. The more I denied him the more he brought himself upon me. His knee slid up from between my legs, spreading them. I was pretty much trapped for the time being. I shook my head back and forth so that he couldn't kiss me, but he pressed his fingers on top of the patch that was covering my stitch. Ow.

I sharply inhaled in pain. I stopped shaking my head and reluctantly let Will kiss me. His surprisingly soft lips smashed onto mine. His tongue grazed my lips, asking for entrance. I denied him but with one push on my scar my mouth opened to draw a sharp breath. Will explored his new territory.

I pulled away from him, needing to breath and having enough of this. My heart beating wildly from the intimate moment that just took place. He was one hell of a kisser.

"I guess that's enough... for now."

Will got off of me and I watched as he left the room. My breathing was quite fast and it took me awhile to calm myself down. My heart feeling like a race car. Because of my memory loss I don't remember if I ever did something like that with someone.

  For a second I thought I forgot what I looked like and I picked up the reflective tray of medal tools and dropped them onto a nearby counter. I looked at my reflection and examined myself, curiously. Doing so made me temporarily forget what had just happened with Will... as exhilarating as that was.

I had (e/c) eyes, (h/c) hair, (s/c), and was wearing a t-shirt with short shorts so that my scar wouldn't rub against any fabric. My hair was brushed for some reason. Probably Will or Hannibal if I had to point out the obvious. Hannibal would probably be better at hair, though.

I was completely oblivious to the person watching my every move. I set the tray down and deeply sighed. I didn't look that beautiful... why would these men take such an obsessive interest in me? Why did I care why they did?

I saw a knife in the corner of the room and the thought of suicide passed through my mind. But suicide was a ridiculous idea. I wouldn't even have the guts to stab myself even if I tried! Maybe a gun to the head would be easier? Surely would be quicker. But I had friends. I had a life. I wasn't just going to let that all go with just one pull of a trigger.

I was broken from my train of thoughts when I heard someone take a step towards me. Several tsks scolding me as I sat in contemplation.

"Suicide is not the way to go."

I looked across the room and saw Hannibal gazing into my eyes, his emotions never wavering as if he was a perfect marble statue.

"Then what do you suggest?" I asked in annoyance.

"Submit yourself to us."

Bruh.

"Yeah, like hell I'm going to fucking do that!" I scoffed.

"Language."

I glared at him, "You think I care about what words I use to describe my emotions?"

"I can help you deal with those emotions." Hannibal didn't move from where he was standing which made me feel a little more at ease, though this man was unpredictable.

"By doing what? Having sex with you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No, no." He chuckled, "I'm a psychiatrist."

I gave him a doubtful Face. But I was surprised to find out that he actually was one. Perhaps that was why he was good at tricking that woman to think I was just some patient off their meds. People thought he was extremely knowledgeable and his manipulative tactics were often overlooked.