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It wasn't exactly unusual. Hannibal knew that people were often rude. Hurt others with their words and actions. It made his skin crawl, often. Still, it hurt him more than he would've liked when Dexter Morgan, a man he stalked for months, declined his Invitation to a dinner. He held the smaller man a special place in his mind. Like an unruly son, someone who was taught to hide and be ashamed of their own beauty. But still could be fixed, saved. He wanted to help so badly.But how could he? How could he when the other one only laughed in his face?That's how Will found him, in his own bedroom, curled up on the bed with an unreadable expression.Will didn't speak, didn't ask. That's what was so beautiful about him, he always knew. That day they spent their evening in their bedroom, the smaller mam comforting his crying husband. All the while the only thought in his head was to make Morgan pay.It took him far longer than he anticipated to get everything he needed. But still, less than a week later he was finished.He stood in a room covered in plastic with a naked man tied to the table: Dexter Morgan. He walked around with striking steps, barely contained anger boiling under his skin. He waited for him to wake up; he might have given him more Etorphine than he should, but it's not like he cared much.About an hour went by when the younger man's muscles strained up in a stretch, well, as much as the binding allowed him. He stopped short, quickly noticing the predicament he found himself in. His eyes opened and he turned his head, his gaze ending on Will. He didn't try to speak; either to ask questions or explain himself; nothing. In silence, he waited.Will gave him a moment and then let out a sigh. "You're really something else, Dexter..." He took a chair and sat down to level with his victim's lying form. "I didn't mind you stealing Hannibal's attention from me, as surprising as it is for me. But what I do mind... Is that you made my husband cry."Dexter's brows furrowed, not fully understanding what his captor was talking about. "It's not often I get to see him like that. And don't get me wrong - he looks beautiful with tears in his eyes. But only *I* get to be the reason for him to be in such a state."Will waited for a moment, letting Dexter think his words through before he turned around and, in plastic gloves, brought a wooden box above his eyes. The analyst's eyes went wide with recognition of his trophies."All of your life, all in one box. Tell me, Dexter, is there anything you're good for other than this?"The other stayed silent."Your whole life, your existence, is built upon one single moment of your childhood. So much of you was made from blood, is anything else even there?"The other stayed silent.Will turned around, putting the box on a table. He hummed while taking the glass pieces one by one and throwing them into a plastic bowl. Dexter didn't look at him, deciding to simply stare at the ceiling until he was addressed again. Will crush the dirtied glass into a fine powder."I don't presume you listen to Taylor Swift much. Am I right?" he asked and Dexter turned his gaze towards the back of his captor. He was pouring something red into a glass and mixing it with the glass. Dexter hoped it was a wine but the logical part of him knew it wasn't true.Will turned back and walked above him again. The man looked unimpressed, his eyes held so much hatred. "You know the drill, easy way or hard way. Will you drink it yourself or do you want me to plug your nose until you can't breathe?"He asked and tilted his head, it wasn't a question, not like Dexter had any way of answering with his mouth gagged. It was a warning. Will pulled the tape from his mouth, holding the glass in his other hand.Dexter didn't start screaming; this wasn't the right time; he was in too much of an inconvenient position. His lips trembled as he opened his mouth, feeling the cold glass against it. Will tilted it up, slowly, not trying to choke the other, just letting him drink. Dexter didn't notice how thirsty he was until the first drop hit his tongue. He struggled to swallow; the iron taste was unnatural to him. He felt the tiny shards of glass rubbing against the walls of his throat. He gargled as it cut through his muscles, getting stuck. He kept his eyes open, focusing on the dirty stains on the ceiling."It seems out of place, doesn't it? A man just kidnaps you and the first thing he does is pour blood down your throat..." His fingers caressed his cheek lightly. "But I think you get it, don't you?"So full of my own work I didn't care about your husband, Dexter understood, trying to breathe through his nose as he emptied the glass. He fought the urge to cough, realizing it would only trigger the pain in his throat more. He tried not to think about his life's work gone, gone in a few gulps."What are you planning to do?" Dexter asked, his voice raspy and tight. He could feel his own blood pooling in his throat. He swallowed it but that only strained the muscle more, creating more blood. Will leaned against the table he was lying on with a deep breath. "You know, Dexter, I've learned a lot about you. Hannibal believed that he could help you after I told him everything I knew. Yet... You pushed him away, not only that... You openly mocked him. So now. Ironically enough, now we have bad blood."Will chuckled at the bad pun. Meanwhile, Dexter scrunched his face in confusion. He walked away to pull something from the table. "Tell me, Dexter, have you ever had a male lover?" Dexter's thoughts immediately fell on Isaak, his smile, his warm eyes, and his smooth hands. He closed his eyes to clear his head; it didn't matter anymore; Isaak was dead. "No."Will distantly hummed. "Well, then the following procedure might either be really unpleasant or you'll learn something new about yourself." he joked drily. Dexter wasn't sure if he understood the implication. He watched as Will walked to the end of the table, standing between his legs. He gasped, feeling some cold liquid touch in between his ass cheeks. No, not lubricant. "Relax a bit, it'll be easier for both of us." The older man hummed, parting the cheeks with one hand while the other one rubbed against the entrance, teasing the first Phalange inside.Dexter's breath stuttered, his eyes closed. He could feel the finger prodding inside him, the sticky blood doing nothing to help. "F-Fuck..." Dexter let out a long breath as the first finger pushed all the way inside him. He tried to relax his body to ease the pain. It didn't help much. The other man didn't seem to care, simply moving his finger in and out in as quick motions as the body allowed. Dexter watched his face, studying him. He couldn't read anything, as if the other man wasn't really present. Just automatically performing his duties as one would with their morning coffee. He moaned and his back arched against the plastic as the nail inside him brushed against something deep. Must have been his prostate. His body shuddered and his breath trembled. Will hummed and added another finger, angling them in that direction. He didn't touch his cock, not a single time; in fact, he was carefully avoidant. And yet, despite that fact, Dexter could feel himself getting hard, blood quickly pooling in his groin. He didn't even notice when his ass hole was stretched by four fingers, too focused on the surprising pleasure. Precum was leaking onto his abdomen, sticking to his skin. Will pulled the fingers out when he decided that the man below him was stretched enough and grabbed something from behind. "This will hurt." the Profiler said simply, his voice flat, just slightly underlined with satisfaction. Dexter's breath came short as a thick, cold head of a hose. "What... Is that?" Dexter cried out, his voice tied. His eyes teared up and he closed them to not let the tears slide. "Have you ever heard of body inflation?" "I- yes? Sure... I studied medicine." he gasped. "Of course you did. Well, this is a bit different body inflation than the one you know," he explained, turning on a machine behind him. Dexter ground his teeth as he felt a warm, sticky liquid enter the place no one before ever did. "I... Am going to turn this on. And let it fill you deep until your belly bursts.""Huh? That's... That's not scientifically possible.""Oh no, Dexter, I don't think you understand. I don't mean burst like a cartoon boom or anything big. I mean, that I'll just let this pour into you, , until your organs won't be able to hold it., It may just be inner bleeding or heart failure. Either way," he leaned down, his breath tickling Dexter's ear. "you'll be gone."With that, he pulled away, and when Dexter opened his mouth to answer, it was gagged by a ballgag. Will didn't wait for anything else, simply making sure the head stayed inside and then, without another word, left. Dexter started struggling against the binding, pained groans leaving him with every move. His belly grew quickly, bulging and bloating with the liquid. He pushed with all his might but that didn't really help either. As his head started to get light from the pain, white spots covering his vision he threw his body to the side. To his surprise, the whole table tilted slightly before resuming to the previous position. That was it. If he wanted to survive, he needed to do something q, quickly. And so, despite all of the pain it brought him, and how mand uch sick to his stomach he felt, he needed to rock himself side to side. He did it once, twice. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and bile climbed up his throat, only getting stopped by the gag and forced to swallow it back down. He groaned, head lulling to the side. He needed to... He needed to try again. He did. Rocked once, twice, thrice. He did it! The iron table tilted to the side, pulling the machine with him and breaking it against the floor, blood quickly pouring out of his body. As Dexter fell, he could feel his head hitting the ground and his vision blurring. The last thing he heard was a deep voice. "Oh, Will, you always know how to cheer me up..."