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Alana had showed up at his door in the evening, when it was already getting dark. She was walking again, legs healed, and spine undamaged. Sometimes fate is merciful.
She let Applesauce off her leash to tear off through the fields with his pack. They stood, facing each other, but not speaking. Part of him expected her to just make it clear that Ripper or no, they still weren’t friends. Part of him expected pity. But she didn’t hesitate when she touched him. The warmth was real, and a real, deep sorrow for hurting him. He let her in.
“I’m sorry for suspecting you,” she said. She never was one for preamble. “Both times. And for pushing you away.”
He looked to the side, avoiding her eyes. “There was evidence. I can’t blame you. It’s over.” His voice was clipped. It was an effort to keep the emotion out of it.
He flinched when she touched his cheek.
“Shh, it’s okay.” She stroked him with the back of her hand, and slowly, slowly, he started to lean into it. Her perfume was rose and jasmine: mild, clean, and sweet. “You didn’t deserve it, and I want to make it better.”
Tears started to gather in his eyes, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, focusing on the pain to calm himself. ‘Make it better.’ He didn’t want to be hurt enough to need anything made better. He didn’t want Alana to see how unstable he really was.
The tears ran down his face regardless, and Alana pulled him into a close hug, one arm around his neck and one around his waist. She was impossibly warm and soft, her dark hair pressing into his cheek as she held him to her shoulder. He’d wanted her, before Hannibal, before the whole mess of the last two years, wanted her lips and her calm, gentle touch. Then he’d wanted her help. Finally, he’d only wanted her to survive. He clung to her tightly at the thought, letting out a sob.
“Hey, now. It’s okay.” She started to rub his back, and he pressed into her shoulder to hide. “It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you.” She led him into the living room and sat on his bed, holding out her arms for him to join her.
His heart felt tight. He stood apart from her, watching like a nervous animal, afraid of being hurt.
“I know, it’s hard to trust.”
“I’m not your patient,” he muttered.
“No,” she said, “but you’re my friend.”
His chest heaved silently at that. He tried to make it subtle when he wiped his eyes.
“I know I haven’t acted like it recently, but that’s why I’m here. I want to show you.” Her face was frank and calm. He liked that about Alana, she didn’t hide things. He’d never had to second-guess her before, but now he just wasn’t sure.
He hesitated, breathing shallowly, standing about a foot away from his own bed as if he might have to bolt from it. But he didn’t want to run from Alana. He never had. Wasn’t that why he’d been so upset when she wrote him off? He wanted her in his life, and here she was, coming to make up. He should be happy instead of terrified.
So with his heart racing, he sat down next to her and let her draw him close to her side. He couldn’t bring himself to rest on her shoulder again, but when she guided him there, he didn’t resist. He was struggling, scrabbling hard not to get his hopes up. The effort was more than he could maintain.
“That’s right. That’s better, huh?” Her voice was so sweet. The soothing doctor, the warm and tender friend. She rubbed his back through his shirt, and he let it calm him, his muscles relaxing just a little at the touch.
She kissed his forehead. “I’d like you to take down your pants, Will, and lay over my lap.”
He blushed deeply, and his pulse quickened again. He’d thought of Alana spanking him many, many times, but he was so uncertain of her now. The last time they’d talked, when she’d come to his door just a few weeks ago, she’d been furious with him. Did she really want to punish him? He looked up at her. “Did I do something wrong?” He hated how frightened and thin his voice sounded, less like a lover than a child. He bit himself again.
“No, sweetie.” She smiled and hugged him again. “No, not at all.”
Will almost shook with relief. She wasn’t mad at him. It was okay.
“I want to help you feel better.” Her voice was just this side of singsong. “Sometimes emotions get locked up inside us, and it’s hard to let them go.” She touched his chest, just above the hard knot of terror, resentment, and guilt. His voice choked. “I can help you release those feelings. Get them out in the open where they aren’t so scary.”
“And you want to sp- t-t-to-” He hated himself for the stammer.
She stroked his hair. “I’d like to give you a spanking. I think it might be what you need, and I want to take care of you.” Her eyes were so calm. How could she be so calm? But at least she wasn’t mocking him. What she said, she meant sincerely.
“How did you know?” he asked quietly.
“I know you, Will.”
“P-professional interest after all, huh?”
“I can’t turn it off. I know you need something physical to ground you, to bring you back to your body. I know sometimes you need pain.”
It was only a tiny glance at his scratches, but he covered his arms defensively.
“And I know you want someone in authority that you can trust. Someone to protect you and care for you. I want to be that person right now.”
“Hannibal didn’t tell you?”
“No. He never told me about you and him. I wouldn’t have asked.”
Will nodded. He believed her. It was painful to think of her knowing, guessing what he thought about at night, what he jerked himself to in the shower. But she was offering, and she was so kind, and all he wanted now was another human being’s loving touch.
“Shh, shh.” She stood with him, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. “It’ll be okay, honey.”
His skin felt electric where she touched him. He was already hard by the time she undid his fly and slipped his pants and boxers down, and he turned away in shame.
“It’s okay,” she said, touching his hair. “It’s okay, honey, that’s normal. I’m not mad.”
He couldn’t reply, but he nodded. Alana sat down and tugged his arm, leading him to lie over her lap. He couldn’t help comparing it to Hannibal’s. Hannibal’s and his dad’s; he hadn’t had that many partners. She was warmer, her thighs softer, the cloth of her dress silky underneath him. But she had the same soothing way of rubbing him beforehand, the tender reassurance before his punishment.
The first strike of her hand dispelled his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. It was hard and stinging and sent warmth seeping through his body. He gasped when she smacked him again. She spanked hard, and she didn’t let up. She’d done this before. His mind started running the scenarios; her partners, the places and the times. Had she spanked Hannibal? It was hard to picture.
“Good boy, Will.” She hit him harder, and he stopped thinking. All that mattered was the moment, Alana’s strong hand on him and her silky thighs. He whimpered.
“Shh...” She struck him again. Warmth spread through his body. He started to cry quietly. He couldn’t bite it back anymore.
Alana paused for a moment to rub his back. “That’s right, honey. Let it out.”
She shifted on the bed, reached for something from her purse. He felt a smooth plane of wood on his burning skin.
“I think you need the hairbrush, Will.”
She’d come prepared. She’d... she’d planned this. His heart leapt at the thought of her packing her purse, choosing what to bring. Blood pulsed through his cock, hot and hard.
She rubbed the brush on him in slow circles. “This is going to hurt, but afterwards you’ll feel a lot better. Okay?”
He bit his lip, craving the pain, craving her strength on his body, needing her force. He nodded twice, the motion jerky and tense.
“Good boy,” she murmured, and started to spank him again.
The brush was so much heavier than her hand, so much harder. He flinched and cried out, but she only tightened her left arm around his waist to keep him in place. The tears came faster, from the pain and from the hurt and fear he’d held inside these past months, the loneliness when no one believed him, the desperation when he had no one to talk to but Hannibal – and the worse pain when Hannibal too was gone.
“Mommy’s here,” Alana said. Her voice was soft and gentle. She wasn’t breathing hard, wasn’t even tired from the exertion of spanking him like a naughty little kid.
Will’s face burned. He didn’t want to want this. He wanted to go back to how things were before, when they were friends that were never alone together, colleagues that read each other’s papers. When she didn’t see him so closely. When she saw him as grown up, and sane.
He struggled with himself, trying to find the self-discipline to give this up and tell Alana it was a mistake, trying to make himself pull away from the contact he was so desperate for. But then she hit him harder, and he started to sob, all conflict chased away from his mind. He couldn’t think anymore, only feel, and he felt like he was flying in a million different directions, and if Mommy weren’t there to keep him together, he would have fallen apart.
“That’s right,” she murmured. Her left hand was relaxed now, rubbing gentle circles on his back while she spanked him. She didn’t need to hold him down anymore; she knew he wouldn’t struggle. “We’re almost done.”
She gave him ten sharp, heavy whacks with the brush, one after the other with no break, and then she set it down.
“Good boy.” Her voice was light now, and she bent down to kiss the back of his head. He was crying harder than ever, his chest heaving and tears running down to stain her dress. She hugged him, wrapping her body around him as he lay in her lap. “You were very good, Will.”
And the praise hit something in his heart that was so sweet it was another kind of pain. He couldn’t believe she really meant it, that she was happy with him. But she wasn’t pushing him away. There was nothing stiff or uncomfortable in her body, betraying a need to leave the hysterical man and escape the awkward situation. This really was the outcome she’d wanted.
He’d been so afraid. So afraid he’d never have her as a friend again, even after everything was over, that she’d hate him for how he’d acted or he’d remind her too much of painful times, or, or, or. So afraid he’d be alone.
She held him while he cried, rubbing gentle circles on his ass to soothe him. Her skin was smooth, even against the raw, abraded flesh. She handed him tissues and let him blow his nose, but she didn’t let him get up from her lap.
“It feels good to cry sometimes, huh? Even if it’s hard.”
His voice was too choked to speak, but he managed a nod. She squeezed him around his waist.
His body had betrayed him. He was far too textbook a fetishist. Intense sensation, fear, underneath it all the comfort that someone cared enough to pay attention to him. And the only way his broken brain could process it was as arousal. He was leaking shamefully onto her dress.
But she didn’t seem to mind, just held him and stroked him, her affect never wavering from gentle affection. It took a long time until he cried himself out.
“Better?” she asked, and he nodded, moving to get up. She pulled him down again firmly. “Shh. It’s okay, Will. Stay with me.” He heard the click of a plastic cap and felt smooth, cooling lotion on his skin. He was weak from tears, and he lay across her lap, loose and boneless.
He bit one of his knuckles, uncertain in the new situation.
She rubbed him until most of the sting was gone, but the deep ache remained underneath, the bruises that would remind him of her tomorrow.
“You’ve had such a rough time lately. It must have been so scary, feeling all alone.”
He gave a choked whimper and nodded.
“Mommy’s sorry, baby. Mommy’s sorry she hurt you.” He knew she didn’t mean the spanking. “You’re a good boy, you don’t deserve that.”
She was rubbing between his cheeks now, and he was glad no one could see his face when he spread his legs for her. Mommy loved him. Mommy had him. Mommy was going to make it all better. He kept running the lines through his head, chasing out anything else. He was wrapped up in a cloud of endorphins and held firmly in her lap. He was starting to get far enough away from his own mind that he felt safe.
Her finger traced down the line of his body, lingering over his hole but not going deeper.
“Mommy’s going to fuck you, Will. Would you like that?”
The dirty words in her gentle voice made him flush, blood rushing to his cock as he bit back a moan.
“Can you say, ‘Yes, Mommy?’”
He shook his head, but there were fingers combing through his hair, a comforting touch that lightened the weight in his chest. “Can you try, sweetie?”
His throat felt rusty. “Y-yes. Mommy.” No going back now.
“Good. That’s very good, Will.” Praise and coaxing like you’d give a fearful dog. Then her finger pressed into him, strong and sure. He moaned, opening for her, offering his body to whatever she wanted. He felt too weak to do anything else.
She fucked him slow and deep with her finger, cooing reassurance the whole time. Gentle taps to his prostate, less than a second of touch. Just enough to keep him hard and make him want it when she added another finger to open him further. He felt pleasure radiating out from her touch, the stretch of his body around her, the invasion of her hand. He rocked his hips; he couldn’t help it. The touch was too sweet, and his body needed more.
She rubbed his back as she fucked him, matching the rhythm of her other hand. The taps to his sweet spot continued as she circled his rim and pushed inside him, over and over, her fingers made slick with the lotion. Her skirt was so smooth underneath him, and he couldn’t help rocking like an animal, mindlessly seeking pleasure.
Then there were three fingers inside him, teasing him, the rhythm dropping even slower until he was counting heartbeats between bright bursts of light, moaning with the need for Mommy’s hand.
When she curled her fingers inside him, it was over. He rocked into her thigh as he spilled, Mommy gliding over his sweet spot again and again.
She stayed inside him and rode it out, keeping her fingers in him as a sign of her possession. He was afraid she’d be mad that he came from just a finger-fucking, that he made a mess on her skirt, but her fingers tangled in his hair again, and she called him her good boy.
This time, she let him get up. He hugged her tightly around her shoulders, burying his face in her hair.
“I love you, Mommy,” he whispered.
She held him close. “I love you too.”
He glanced down at the sticky puddle on her legs.
“I- I’m sorry about– ”
“Shh.” She kissed his head and nuzzled him. “It’s not a big deal, baby.” Then her mouth wandered down to his ear, and his back arched. “Just clean it up.”
He moaned as he dropped to his knees on the bed beside her and eagerly lapped up the cum. She was petting him and murmuring to him. He could smell her arousal through the cloth, through the dirty taste, and everything was okay because he was being good for Mommy. Mommy wouldn’t leave him this time.
“Good boy,” she said softly. “Such a good boy.”
He’d cleaned up his mess, and she stood up, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She caught his look, his blush. She was wearing skin-tone bra and panties, plain and beige, but the intimacy of seeing her body overwhelmed him. He reached out to touch without thinking, and she didn’t push him away, just took his hand in hers and guided it across her belly to her breast.
He pulled his hand back to cover himself when he realized he was still half in and half out of his jeans, disheveled and undignified.
She smiled. “Do you want to get undressed, Will?”
He nodded and stood to strip himself while she slipped out of her bra. Mommy helped him, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He felt breathless being so close to her. When leaned in and gave him a tender kiss, he pressed into it, sighing as her hands ran over him. She rubbed his back so gently, and he held onto her, loving the feel of her skin.
She smiled reassuringly. He tried to cover his scar, the thick, jagged line down his belly, knitted together but still red, but she guided his hands to the side and kissed him all down the length of the ugly mark.
“Does it hurt, honey?”
He shook his head.
“Good.” She took one of his nipples between her fingers, and he tilted his head back, sighing as she teased it, pinched it, just on the sharp side of pain. She kissed his cheek, trailing her lips down to his neck and lighting up a path along his nerves. He started panting, growing hard again, as easy as a teenager. He was embarrassed at how well she could work him, but she only smiled. No anger. No scorn.
“You want to be Mommy’s good boy?” she asked. Her lips were almost touching his ear.
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Do you think you can take my cock?”
“C-cock?” Did she have a toy? The thought excited him. Alana was firm and calm, and he felt safer already under her hand, but nothing made him feel more submissive and cared for than being penetrated.
“Mm hm,” she said. “It’s another word for private parts.” She took his cock in her hand and stroked it gently. “See?”
He gasped. “Ah! Yes!”
“Good. Mommy’s going to put her cock inside you. And you can be a good boy and take it all the way in, okay?”
“I-I’ll do my best...”
He watched nervously as she took a harness and a dildo from her bag. The cock was plain black silicone with a large, flared tip, ridged down the shaft. He imagined it inside him, opening his body, Alana’s hips working as she claimed him. “Mommy’s big,” he murmured, before he realized he’d said it out loud.
“That’s right, honey.” She was standing by the bed, her lithe body slipping into the harness, fixing her big cock in place. It was thicker than the toys he used on himself, when he even bothered.
His mind made a merciful lacuna around a comparison to Hannibal’s cock. He couldn’t think about it and still be okay, so he didn’t think about it.
He worried about whether he could take it, but he knew, deep in his heart, that she’d be gentle. She’d come to him all on her own, hadn’t she? And held him and kissed him and called him good. She wouldn’t hurt him now.
“Get on your hands and knees, baby.” She guided him, positioning his body on the bed. She gave him a pillow, and he hugged it close for comfort. He cast a glance behind him. She was so beautiful. Her skin was smooth and creamy, and the lines of her body fluid, curving as she adjusted herself in the harness, the muscles of her thighs moving as she took position behind him and held his hips.
She slicked her cock with more of the lotion and kissed his back as she pressed into him. She moved so slowly, but never stopped moving, opening him. He felt the tension run up his spine as he arched under her, keening as he struggled to accept her.
“Shh, shh.” She petted him, running her hands over his back until she was buried to the hilt, wide cock stretching him open, making him shiver. “There. There we go. You’re doing very well.” She moved her hips, rocking inside him, humming in pleasure.
He relaxed by degrees as he got used to her inside him, as he calmed under her gentle touches. His breathing was almost normal, and he was rocking back against her when she pulled back and started to thrust.
“Ah!” White light lit up inside him, and he grabbed handfuls of the sheets. She wasn’t rough, but she was merciless, unyielding, fucking him again and again, hitting his sweet spot when he was still reeling from the last thrust.
He dropped his head and shoulders, raising his hips up higher for her, meeting her thrusts needily. She smacked his ass as she rode him, and he was babbling in desperation, begging her for More, Mommy, please, it’s so good, God, please, take me, yes!
Her skin was flushed and glistening with sweat as she pounded into him. He bucked underneath her, loving the feeling when she held him down and kept him in place. She bit his neck, and he moaned, rocking his hips and dying for release, but not daring to touch himself without permission.
She drew it out, reaching around to rub his nipples. His breath caught in his throat until it was almost a sob. She licked the bite mark, soothing where she’d hurt him.
“You want to come, don’t you?” Her voice was low and husky.
“Yes. Yes, please, Alana, Mommy—” He buried his head in the pillow, blocking out the light from his overtaxed senses. “Please.”
She smacked him again, and he raised his hips like a bitch in heat. “Good boy, Will.” She took his cock in hand and started to rub him, firmly but painfully slowly. She thrust in time, pushing him into her hand. He moved under her, trying to catch the sensation, trying to get enough contact, but all he could do was wait for her to give it. He was completely at her mercy.
The thought echoed in his head when he came.
She stroked his back while he rode out his orgasm, murmured soothing noises into his ear. He felt her enveloping him, shielding him with her arms and the weight of her body.
She started moving again, rocking her hips in circles, her cock never leaving him. It brushed over his sensitive nerves, sending shocks of pleasure through him. She bit him again when she came, and he was covered in her strong, soft body. He collapsed underneath her, and she lay on top of him, sliding out of his ass to just hold him while their breath steadied.
She wrapped around him in a tight hug before going to the bathroom to clean herself up. He rolled onto his back and watched the door, waiting for her, too drained to be anxious about what she thought of him.
She came back into the bedroom flushed and smiling, wet panties in one hand along with the strap-on. She set them down and sat beside him. She’d brought a washcloth. He reached for it, but she stilled his hand, cleaning his chest and between his legs, drying the tears on his face. He turned away. She let him break eye contact, but held him close to her, laying down beside him and drawing him down to her breast. He snuggled in close, hiding his face against her.
“I love you, Mommy.” He went pale as soon as he said it. “I—I mean— I am so sorry, Alana. I didn’t mean—That is the wrong thing to say.” He tried to pull away from her, to give her the space she no doubt wanted after that painfully weird declaration of love right after the first time they’d ever fucked, right after the first time they’d spoken in a month.
But she kept him close, held him tightly in her arms until he finally stilled. “Mommy loves you too, honey.” She kissed his head.
He nodded and wiped at his face, listening to her heartbeat and trying to calm down.
“So, we’re..?” He trailed off. He didn’t want to guess out loud at what they were, afraid of being wrong.
“We’ll figure that out,” she said. “Together. But whatever we are, I know I’m your friend. I won’t leave you alone like that again. Okay?”
“Okay.” He let her cradle him to her chest, giving him a safe place to spend the night.