Blood Work

The Snare

Will Graham sat outside of a small café soaking in the hot sun. The city was bustling with energy, music, conversation, mayhem. He still felt small pains when he moved, when he smiled. Tiny reminders, just like the rest. Mementos of his tango with the devil he knew. Hannibal..Hannibal..

His phone buzzed and his wife sent him a message about one of the dogs. Ex wife, he had to correct himself. She got the dogs and he got placed in protective custody, as long as he would still profile when needed for Crawford. Months faded quickly here in south America, and so did the amount of whiskey will was now fond of. A blur of self pity and weak attempts of numbing the pain. He would still dream of Hannibal, fevered, the stag always two steps behind him.

Lost in thought, his table was bumped by a lady with an excited dog. Hot coffee all down his otherwise stain free shirt. Will cursed, looking up to see the hurt expression of the lady, holding the mangy mutt in her arms. She was pretty, round in places most men are fond of, and pale as death herself. She apologized, and he noticed she was American.

" I'm so sorry, I just found this dog in the middle of the road and I didn't want him to get hurt. Is he yours?"

Will shook his head, his long curls bouncing around his scruffy face. He smiled at her, but was looking at the dog. He reached to pet the wiggling dog, she moved away from him, uncomfortable.

" I should really try to find his owners, sir. I'm once again sorry for bothering you."

"Wait.."

She turned, looking at him, lips tight.

" When you find the owner, if you do. You owe me a drink."

She nodded, her softness returning, she moved with purpose away, quickly, asking those she ran into about the dog. Will, amused, watched her with icy glare. Peter, the café owner placed down another hot fresh cup before Will could turn.

" What's a young American girl doing here with a mutt?" Peter asked, grunting with a small laugh.

" That mutt roams around here all the time, she will finally get tired and lose hope in finding his owner or finding that mutt a home." Will took a sip and regretted it.

Peter grunted again, tapping Will on his shoulder with sympathy.

" If she doesn't find the owner, she doesn't come back for that drink my friend."

" I know." Will sipped his coffee, his hands shaking.

Three nights of insomnia made Will uncomfortable in his own skin. He awoke from a brief drift into unconsciousness to roam his small apartment, pacing. Crawford had no leads on Hannibal, and they presumed he was dead. No body for Will meant there was paralyzing fear he was still out there. He could still hear him, if he listened closely enough. Whiskey seemed to drown him out, drown out the monster Hannibal had transformed Will into. Half a bottle in and Will was on his balcony, trying to cool from the heat of a summer night. The world buzzed, Will did as well. She was walking down the street. He watched her, debating with himself about the coincidence. Something felt off. Who was she? A game, a tiny voice answered, his voice..

Will caught up to her, and in the late hours of the night spent them with her. Conversation mostly. She was a nurse, helping with a team here for a few weeks. She loved animals. Loved word puzzles and sang in her Baptist Choir. Will would flirt and she would reciprocate lightly, guarded. He told her lies, of course. He was here on business, his name was James Murphy.

A week of meeting up every night moved from a local rat hole bar to his apartment. She cooked for him, sang for him, and boldly one night, he kissed her. She kissed back and before he knew it she was pressed against him, holding onto him as he fucked her, moaning loud enough neighbors complained. He had missed this kind of interaction, even if she left as soon as he fell deep into a dreamless sleep. Something so familiar about her, she was so soft and inviting.

Hannibal poured himself a drink at the hotel, checking his watch. Before he heard her enter the penthouse, he could smell him. Will. Intoxicating. His scent was all over her, even the cheap whiskey he now drowned himself in. Before he could stop himself, he kissed Sophia. She froze to it, unsure of what to do. He had never approached her in a manner that was sexual before, in the months they knew each other. He had, in most regards saw her as a willing pupil, a daughter. His urges were satisfied with his knife, not with her lips even if he desired it. He pushed her against the wall, kissing down her neck, inhaling. He was now aroused, pulling at her dress, exposing her large milky white breasts. He latched on, suckling as he imagined Will had done, feeling instantly like a small child nursing. Sophia cried out, trying to move away from Hannibal, but he reinforced his grip on her, pinning her.

" Did he cum inside you?" Hannibal whispered.

Sophia, terrified, nodded. Hannibal ran his nose down her exposed belly, her wide hips, slipping off her underwear. He used his free hand to slip two fingers into her, feeling how hot and tight she was. She moaned, unsure if she should. He pressed his thumb against her swollen clit, massaging it as he fingered her, feeling her become more wet and sticky between his fingers.

" Did he make you cum?" Hannibal continued his work.

" No, he did not." She was always honest.

He pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, sucking on them. The taste was creamy, a mixture of her essence and Wills. He dipped them back into her, feeding her a taste in between kissing her, his own manhood pulsing and aching against his pants.

He bent her over the couch, not allowing her to gain her composure. He rubbed himself as Will's cum leaked out, wetting the tip of him with it. She was very aroused, dripping down her own thighs, shaking. He wrapped a hand around her throat, tightening as he pushed himself into her. She trembled, her moans muffled by the fact she was sucking on his soaked fingers as he thrusted into her. She liked pain, and he was making it painful for her, making sure to push as deep as he could get, penetrating her cervix with ease. She was close to climax, and he was curious if he was a better lover than Will was. She tightened, moaning to near sobs, he released his hold on her neck and pulled out of her. His tongue replaced his manhood just in time to get the hot gush of her orgasm on it. He growled, how sweet she tasted, juices running down his chin.

She collapsed on the floor after, trying to compose herself. He smiled, licking his lips.

" You did perfect, Sophia. My sweet Sophia."

He helped her to the bath, running her a hot soak. He kissed her, washed her hair, pampered her. She would be sore for a few days, and he would take care of her. She allowed him to do so, which was a first of close intimacy. He poured her a glass of wine, and allowed her to soak in peace.

He closed the door and picked up her dress from off the floor. Sitting down on the bed, he inhaled it, picking up Will's scent in places. Will, I'm here now, so close...