Chapter Text
“It’s called ageplay,” an ex-girlfriend had explained to him. And it had been… fine, cuddling her and brushing her hair, serving PB&J in front of a colorful show about horses. Fine, nothing less, and nothing more. It didn’t reach into that empty place in Will, like she said it did for her. He found nothing satisfying or gratifying about it, it just wasn’t his thing. And that was alright; he’d learned how to play the parts lovers needed of him.
It took three months, a breakup, and an intense wet dream for Will to figure out exactly what had been wrong, but by that point, he had already concluded that relationships were not meant for him. He did better on his own. He bought a coloring book and a dog that liked to be held and tried not to think about it too much.
Will thought about it too much, anyway. He was lonely, teaching a largely useless class of future FBI agents, spending hours looking over dead bodies with Jack Crawford. Sometimes he came home, and his skin just crawled. Some time with the toys occasionally helped, but what really helped was whiskey. Whiskey could numb the itch, the need, the loneliness. Whiskey could put him to sleep when everything else kept him up.
Whiskey, however, also made him drunk and stupid. Will spent large amounts of time on his laptop, drunkenly searching through ‘little space’ blogs and YouTube videos of cartoons he only vaguely remembered from his severely lacking childhood.
The website had been a paid sponsor on one of Will’s favorite blogs. It came with fantastic reviews, almost too good to be true. Mailorderdaddy.com came with glowing testimonials, and a very long list of conditions for sign-up that basically boiled down to ‘sexual intercourse not included,’ because of course, sex work was still illegal in most of the United States. Will didn’t really care. It wasn’t sexual for him. It could be, certainly, and there’d been many more intimate dreams after the first one, but ultimately what Will craved was a different kind of release.
Do you yearn for care? Do you need someone to take you in hand? To help you reorganize your stressful life?
God, yes. Will’s mouth was watering. But that might have been thirst. He took another swig off whiskey and kept scrolling.
Daddy is here to guide you. Daddy knows what’s best for you, what you crave. Daddy can punish and praise, whatever you need to be the child you truly are.
There were options. Checkboxes for the kinds of things Will might want. Little question marks to click if he didn’t understand. Yes-Maybe-No boxes.
Diapers were right out. Will clicked that ‘no’ as hard and as fast as he could. There were a few others that were ‘maybes,’ a handful of ‘yeses.’ He wasn’t that small, or at least he didn’t think so. Even as he clicked, Will brought his thumb up to his mouth, picking at his lower lip rather than actually sucking at it.
Sexual Intimacy was apparently an option. According to the little info box, he couldn’t touch the… person, and they wouldn’t touch him, but they would talk to him while he touched himself, if he liked.
Will hovered over that box for a long time before making a decision.
His name. His address. His work schedule. Will downed another two fingers of whiskey and let the flush warm him. What days did he prefer? What did he look for in a partner? What was his sexuality, a question Will had not expected to be asked.
And then there they were. A ‘selection’ for Will to choose from, stats laid out beside them, sliding scales of things like ‘Strictness’ and ‘Affection.’ There was even a bar for ‘Flirtatious,’ which made Will flush for reasons besides the alcohol.
Some of the… people… were women, which explained the sexuality question. Will liked women, but they didn’t quite fit what he was craving. No, what he was craving was…
There. Angles, cheekbones, a stern expression. Maxed out on the ‘Strictness’ bar, higher than anyone else on the page. Will’s mouth watered. He took another sip of whiskey.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Will muttered. What was the point of doing this at all if he wasn’t going to take it seriously? He clicked the button and grabbed for his credit card.
_____
Will woke up half sprawled across his bed, an imprint of his laptop keyboard across his face. He had the hangover from hell, and he was late. So very, very late. ‘Four missed calls from Jack’ late.
The day was a nightmare, in and of itself. Jack yelled when Will finally showed up, a new intern threw up on Will’s sweater, forcing him to shiver in just his button-down for the rest of the day, and the pounding headache never. Stopped.
Will was in a mood when he finally returned home. He wasn’t sure what kind of mood, exactly. Possibly another half a bottle of whiskey kind of mood. But he’d barely gotten the dogs out into the yard, had not even opened the bottle, when the Bentley pulled up.
“Will Graham?” The man who stepped out of the car was tall, taller than Will, broad shouldered, with sharp cheekbones. He was awkwardly, uncomfortably familiar. Will took a step back towards his front door before he recognized him, before it all came rushing back to him in a humiliating haze.
“Oh god,” Will muttered to himself, then, louder, “You’re the-“ But he couldn’t make himself say it. The word stuck in his throat, thick and embarrassing.
“I’m the Daddy you ordered, yes,” the man said, smiling as he completely ignored the red flush that overtook Will’s face. “Dr. Hannibal Lecter. You may call me Hannibal, for now. May I come in? There are a few things we will need to discuss.”
The dogs liked the man, which was a plus, but Will could not stop trembling long enough to weigh pros and cons. He could afford the fee; most of his salary went to savings, after he cared for the dogs, and he lived very simply. But it was absolutely ridiculous for him to have done this, for him to have hired someone to… to care for him, as though he was an infant who could not be trusted. Will’s hands shook as he poured Hannibal a glass of water, and then one for himself, though it was whiskey he wanted. They sat across from each other, a stack of papers between them.
“Business first,” Hannibal said with a small smile, “You can pay for as many days as you like, though full weeks have to be discussed ahead of time. I have the right to two days off per week, but I may not always wish to invoke that right, if I feel you need the extra attention. Weekends and overnights are extra, unless you are paying for the weekend as part of the full week package. As you were told when you checked out, the first two weeks are discounted as a trial period, but anything after that will be full price This is your work schedule?”
Will looked at the paper and cleared his throat. “My class schedule,” he corrected, “Three days a week, I teach at the FBI academy. But I’m on-call as a special agent with the FBI. Sometimes I know ahead of time when I’m needed, but I can’t guarantee I won’t be called in without notice.”
“Unfortunate, but doable,” Hannibal said, making a note on the paper, “I’ve cared for emergency responders before, we can’t all have the luxury of building our own work week. We’ll make it work together, so long as you communicate with me.”
“About that,” Will mumbled, clearing his throat when the words slurred together, “I just don’t think… I’m not so sure that… Look, this was a really ridiculous idea, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was drunk, and…”
“You were thinking you needed care,” Hannibal said, in a soft, but firm voice. “In Vino, Veritas, Will. We are often far truer to ourselves when intoxicated. Besides,” he added, turning to the next page, where a series of numbers stood out, “our payments are non-refundable. You may as well make the most of your trial period.”
Of course they were nonrefundable. Will leaned back in his seat. “Alright. Two weeks.”
Hannibal nodded, running over the rows of numbers with his index finger. “You’ve booked the upcoming weekend and left the rest of the days open for discussion. I find that work is a high source of stress for most people, would you agree with that assessment?”
Will shrugged. “Teaching is easy. I’m just talking at them; I don’t need to interact. FBI work is a bit more difficult.”
“I would expect it to be,” Hannibal said, “Do you have any open cases right now?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a full schedule, or anything like that. We work until we figure things out. I know I’m in tomorrow, for at least ten hours. More if I can manage it, but I’m going to try and be home by six. Jack has to let me go home eventually to take care of my dogs.”
Hannibal smiled softly, “Yes, you’ve got quite the pack, don’t you?”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at all.” Hannibal made another note on the schedule sheet. “We’ll start with tomorrow then. 6:30?”
Will fidgeted. “I can’t promise I’ll be home on time,” He reminded Hannibal.”
“It’s no matter. I try to be lenient during the trial period. Your time won’t start until you arrive, although I’ll warn you, I will still expect you to sleep at a decent time compared to when you need to be up.”
Will’s hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. Normally, when his stomach twisted like this, he would begin to gnaw on his cuticles, but he had no desire to bring his fingers up to his mouth in front of Hannibal. “And what other expectations will you have?”
Hannibal smiled brightly, flipping to the next page. “We’ll get to the rules in just a second. I just want you to look over your checklist and make sure everything is correct. I wouldn’t want to spring something on you that was actually a hard limit.” He passed over the paper and a pen that was far too nice for Will to chew on. He chewed on his lip instead.
He was grateful to see some of the items he’d checked off as a ‘no.’ He might have actually fallen over and died if presented with an adult diaper. But had he really checked ‘maybe’ to bottles? To pacifiers?
And ‘yes,’ to spanking. ‘Yes’ to humiliation, because drunk Will was far more of a disaster than sober Will. Will’s fingers itched to strike the lines out. He didn’t move. It would somehow be more embarrassing to change his answers in front of Hannibal, than to have marked the boxes in the first place.
And of course… “About… sexual intimacy…” Will said softly.
“Think of it as similar to a phone sex hotline,” Hannibal said, “You will be free to touch yourself- only with permission, of course – and I will guide you, speak to you. There will be no physical contact between either of us, during that time.”
Will glanced up, catching the phrasing. “But outside of that time?” His face was burning. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more information.
“Both discipline and affection come with a certain expected level of physical contact. Everyone who works with our service is different. For my part, I offer physical punishment, but also hugs, cuddling, kisses. Yes,” Hannibal added with a smile, catching Will’s sudden startled squeak, “Kissing does not fall under sexual intimacy. I will kiss you however you like to be kissed, whether it be chaste and affectionate or something more arousing. The only time I will not kiss you, is if you are touching yourself. Otherwise, you are free to ask for physical affection whenever you need it. I also find that baths can be very relaxing for the little ones I work with.”
Will probably hadn’t had an actual ‘bath’ since he was five years old. He ducked his head. “That’s not necessary.”
“Nothing we will do together is necessary,” Hannibal said gently, “that doesn’t make you wrong to want it.”
Will’s hand crept up to his mouth. He bit hard at the cuticle, his nails already ragged from previous chewing. Hannibal watched the motion with sharp eyes, before flipping to the final two sheets of paper.
“You’ll have noted on the website that I’m one of the strictest Daddies on offer,” Hannibal noted, indicating the heading of the first page, where ‘Rules’ was printed in large, bold font. Several were already typed into place, but the bottom of the page held lined spaces for additional rules to be written in. “I expect to be obeyed, and in return, you will be rewarded. However, I understand that some little ones crave a heavy hand for guidance and reassurance. Naughtiness will be punished at all times, but I want to reassure you that there is little you can do to scare me away. I have only fired one client in my years with the company, and there were many steps and conversations before that.”
Hannibal pushed the Rules sheet a little closer to Will. They seemed fairly straightforward. The first one just read ‘Listen to Daddy.’
“Obedience,” Hannibal repeated, “adherence to the schedule we will build together, based on your needs. And I’ll expect you to keep to it even when I’m not around. I have an innate sense for when my little ones aren’t eating or sleeping as I’ve instructed them to.”
“Sounds more like a mommy with eyes in the back of her head,” Will muttered, before he could stop himself. To his relief, Hannibal merely chuckled.
“You wouldn’t be the first to make that observation,” Hannibal agreed. “But you’ll call me Daddy, unless we are within earshot of others, or we are having our grown-up conversations.”
“Grown-up conversations?”
“Communication is key in any relationship, but especially one with power dynamics like ours. Ideally, you would discuss any session immediately afterwards. However, given the nature of our dynamic, many of our sessions will end with you asleep in bed, so we will instead discuss previous sessions at the beginning of the next one.”
Privately, Will thought the idea of him falling asleep with a stranger in the house was wishful thinking, but he merely nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”
“The rest of my rules are more for the experience. For example, I allow screen time, but no more than a half hour per session, unless we’ve agreed to watch a film together. However, films generally fall under the category of ‘special treats.’ I abhor most children’s programming, and while films are usually much higher in quality, it seems a waste of your money to have you completely spaced out for the entirety of our time together.”
“I don’t own a TV,” Will said, “just my laptop. I like movies, but not enough to invest a lot of time or money into them.”
“Then we’ll get along fine,” Hannibal replied, “now, I need you to go over this last sheet and mark off anything that would make you uncomfortable.
The second page was set up the same as the Rules page, except this one read ‘Punishments.’ Will saw ‘washed out mouths for lying’ and couldn’t make himself read any further. He nodded, red-faced, and shoved the paper back towards Hannibal. Hannibal gave him a long, searching look, but didn’t call Will out on his obvious failure to follow instructions.
“Sign here,” he said instead, indicating a line at the bottom of the first page, “and every page thereafter.”
Will scribbled his signature down on each line, growing more rushed and illegible with each sheet of paper. He felt lightheaded by the end of it, and vaguely nauseous. He’d already paid for it, right? No harm in getting his money’s worth. “Do we start today?”
Hannibal gave him that look again, and though Will prided himself on his innate ability to understand other people, he could not for the life of him tell what Hannibal was thinking.
“Tomorrow, I should think,” Hannibal said softly, “Now that we’ve spoken, I’ll have a better idea of what you need from me. Do you have your own supplies?”
“Supplies?” Will squeaked.
“Pacifiers, bottles or sippy cups. Some toys to keep you entertained. I have my own kit, of course, and some of your fee goes towards a fund for me to get you more personalized items as part of our relationship, but many of my clients already have a few comfort items they depend on.”
Will had a plastic dinnerware set, a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese, a ratty dollar store coloring book, and an 8 pack of cheap crayons with the blue broken in three pieces. He tried not to think about his and Hannibal’s ‘relationship,’ or about the other man buying him personalized gifts. It made him feel too exposed. “No,” Will managed, his mouth dry, “No, I don’t really have… I don’t usually…”
“Will…” A large hand covered his own, pulling Will’s now-bleeding cuticles away from his teeth. “It’s okay to be new to this. It’s okay not to know what you need, just yet. We will figure it out together.”
Hannibal made it sound so easy, so absurdly simple, that Will couldn’t help but nod. “Tomorrow, then,” he whispered, reluctantly pulling away from Hannibal’s warm grip.
Hannibal nodded, smiling faintly as he gathered the papers. “Tomorrow.”