Chapter Text
To one ignorant of state geography, the map of the Verger estate seemed innocuous at first glance. It’s comically large, much like other billionaire homes were, but unlike the sanctums of other one-percenters, there were no private roller coaster or waterpark anywhere in its acreage. There’s a big manor house and its prerequisite amenities, but by the standard of the filthy rich, the Vergers estate seemed blindingly normal.
Yet unbeknownst to some, behind its craftily laid boundary lines lay the seat of power of America’s most powerful family, one that has stood strong since the first European settlers, their blood undiluted of the violence their ancestors.
They resided in the main house, a giant manor that looked more like a monstrous palace than a family home. The same place used to house a humble cabin, Expanding quietly through wars, revolutions, and recessions, making use of the fortunes made through the trade of flesh and the labor of slaves.
Not much was known about the first Vergers, but evidence of their influence remained dotted throughout the property. An old well here, a bloodstained foundation there; relics preserved in some sick veneration of the past. As the family thrived, each new generation expanded on their domain, never demolishing anything that their ancestor might have built.
Each patriarch added rooms to their humble abode until it stood taller than every other house in the state. They began with a bedroom, a bathroom there, a second story so they could easily survey their toiling slaves, an impenetrable wall to keep out nosy reporters and angry union leaders. Humble additions that grew more ostentatious with every addition. In business, they did much the same. The Verger made alliances and mergers until every significant brand in America can trace back its lineage to its unlikely parent company.
On and on they grew, each son expanding on their predecessor domain, spurred by some desire for their dead father’s approval or by some need to prove their manhood. Though he’d like to think differently, Mason was much the same. Will could still remember how the man droned on and on about his heritage as he buried his flesh into the boy’s. Through the pain and boredom, Will listened, saving each nugget of truth so he may use it someday in the future.
That’s how he found out about the Patriarch's death, not from any byline or gossip, but from the cement trucks lining up outside of the estate he was heading through. It’s an improbable hypothesis, but the boy made plenty of them in the past and he’s proven right every time. So he joined the line, shivering behind idling gasoline guzzlers, a laborer of a different kind.
“ID and Work Orders.” A guard intoned flatly when he approached the gate, his hand held out as his eyes remained glued to his phone.
Will mustered up his best smile and complied, placing his shiny student ID on the man’s calloused hand. “Will Graham to see Mr. Verger.” He said, scanning over the pathetic setup in the guard post. He noted the stale coffee, the barely working heater, the cold, irritable men; an impenetrable wall for others to break through, but not for him.
“Didn’t you hear kid?” The bored guard smiled all too widely, anticipating the pleasure of running someone’s day. “The old man’s dead. The house is in mourning. They’re not receiving any guests right now.”
“I know.” Will said just pleasantly, perfectly masking his irritation with easy geniality. “That’s why I’m here you know, to cheer up Daddy Mason.”
A few sputters and choked coughs escaped the guard post as the team peered over to see the self-proclaimed prostitute. Will beamed at them shamelessly, tucking his curls back in with exaggerated delicacy that he’ll outgrow in a few months. Most of them blanched and reared back, furious at the sheer gall of a whore proclaiming his trade, but before violence could break out, a man with jagged scars boomed out in laughter.
“Oh, it's you! Long time no see kid.” He exclaimed, confusing the other guards with his sudden cheeriness.
“Hiya!” Will smiled at the familiar face. He’s not wearing a uniform like the rest of the security team, but even if he were, the malice in his eyes would still set him apart from them. “I’m not late yet, but if I walk over, I might just be. Could you give me a ride to the main house?”
“Yeah, yeah. We have a golf cart around somewhere, don’t we?” He turned back and rummaged through one of the drawers, ignoring the protests of the other guards for leaving his post. “Ah, shut up already. I’m done freezing in here with you lot. Come on kid, I’ll get you to the boss.”
“Thanks! I really appreciate it. Daddy gets so mad when I’m late.” Will gushed as he sidled all too close to the man. “How are you, mister… Manny, was it?”
“Hey, you remember my name!” The man smiled, pulling the golf cart out of park and patting the seat next to him.
Will jumped in and pressed their thighs together, playing the part of an embarrassed little boy. “Kind of hard to forget your name when we’ve… you know.” He muttered, pretending to blush by hiding his face behind his bag. Little did he know that Will was simply too exhausted to spare the man another fake smile.
“Huh… guess so.” Manny hummed, tickled pink by a whore who still knew how to blush. They ride along in silence, leaving a trail of smoke from Manny’s half-ashed cigarette. Will took advantage of his pensiveness and surveyed the scenery, noting the devastation that the construction crew wrought in pursuit of yet another Verger fancy. How silly. As if building some monument would ease Mason’s grief.
And yet there was something comforting in the ugly rail tracks that the machines left in the winter grounds. Anything can be rebuilt anew, polished over with money to hide the grief beneath. He shall do the same too. Will doesn’t need him to survive. He’s done so long before he met Hannibal, and he’ll continue to do it after his name fade from his memories.
The price will be steep. Mason was a terrible owner and an inadequate lover, and as delightful as it was to play around in a sadist’s head, Will had no desire to do so after a heartbreak. Nevertheless, he shall grit his teeth, play his part, and find solace in this dirty business of flesh and pleasure.
It’ll be hard. Mason’s games always left him battered in more ways than one. During summer camps he had months to recover in Mason’s shadowy manors, but now he’ll have to fend for himself. Find some hostel to hide in so he could heal his bruises.
Maybe he’ll miss a semester or two. After all, he’s older now. It’ll take time to convince Mason to take him back, but if Will plays his cards right, he’ll have his life back on track before the year was over.
“I gotta say kid, I’m surprised at how normal you look.” Manny pipped up, breaking the boy’s thoughts.
“… Thanks, I guess? Wait, is that an insult?” Will narrowed his eyes and playfully knocked their knees together.
“Nah, it’s just that kids that boss played around with are usually…” Manny awkwardly scratched his beard as he remembered the slew of broken children he carried out under Mason’s orders.
“…Messed up?”
“Yeh. All traumatized and shit. They only ever came back to sue!” Manny grinned, patting Will heartily on the back. “Buncha fucking wimps. Not like you though. You’re pretty and smart! Well, smart enough to come back at least.”
‘No. I’m an idiot who fell in love and left anyways.’ Was what Will wanted to say, but he knew that Manny wouldn’t care. He just wanted to talk about something fun to alleviate his mind-numbing existence.
That’s why people like him worked for Mason. For them, being good never paid off, but the violence and depravity of Mason’s hobbies livened the mundanity of their lives. Will sighed and snuggled up to the man, pushing in closer so he won’t notice the disgust in his eyes.
“Huh, that’s weird. Why would they cry? I always have fun with you guys. That’s why I’m here.”
“For fun?”
“Yeah!”
Manny guffawed and wrapped his arm around Will’s shoulder. He held him far too tightly, filling the air with the smell of his rank pits.
“Well, if fun is what you’re looking for then you got your work cut out for you. The boss is in an awful mood.” He lowered his voice and whispered, “Maybe you’ll spread your legs for me after, yeah? I love fucking loose holes with sloppy creampies.”
Desire suffused the air like acrid smoke, but instead of brushing it away, the boy fanned it further, eager to take advantage so he might numb the pain deep in his chest.
“Yeah, I can do that… But you got to tell me why Daddy’s so grumpy! I won’t be able to cheer him up otherwise.” Will purred, batting his lashes as he gathered his ammunition for the upcoming hunt. He’s got a cash pig to shoot down and he does not intend to miss.
***
After a few disagreements with the perpetually traumatized staff, Manny led him to the barn, waving off the nervous maids who begged him to ‘leave the Master in peace.’
“Shut the fuck up. Mason is looking for him.” Manny grunted. All too familiar with threats of violence, the maids scurried off into the shadows of the house. ‘Weak.’ Will sneered at their shimmering eyes. How can adults be so fragile? Surely a few harsh words weren’t enough to warrant tears.
Shrugging away his disgust, Will left his bag on a stack of haybales and followed Manny’s lead into the barn, his heart thumping along the discordant arrangement of Mason’s new musical obsession. The man must be in quite a state. Mason only indulged in music when he was either terribly high or utterly devastated.
“In there.” Manny tapped on a door, clearly intending to stay out of Mason’s tempestuous moods. Knowing that he’ll be walking into a landmine, Will shrugged and thanked him, putting on a mask of a happy little boy; the type Mason loves to break.
As he slid the door open, an overpowering stench of shit and animal musk assaulted his senses. It’s pungent enough to sting his eyes, and his ears were deafened by the cries of swine and dissonant flutes. The overstimulation was as familiar as home, for only in these places of filth could he truly transcend from a powerless little orphan to the monsters he fucked.
His mouth began watering as shame and excitement filled his body. Despite the familiar setting, this will be the first time he’ll be approaching someone for money. In the past, men would always buried their guilt by paying him off with money, but Will was different now. No longer was he the reckless brazen boy toying with monsters for a bit of fun. He’s given up his future for Hannibal, and now he must build it anew.
Though desperate to forget him, Will knew that Hannibal has irreversibly changed him. Through his influence, he came to know true shame and pain, ones so acute that even the masochist in him failed to enjoy.
He climbed up the steel stair according to the music, divining rhythms out of animal cries and ear-piercing trumpets to mask his approach. Halfway up he spotted an antique wingback placed near the edge, a pair of hay and shit-encrusted loafer hanging off one side as a listless hand conducted the racket.
“Well, well, well.” That familiar nasally voice cut past the noise. “Look who’s back.” A sheen of square glasses tilted towards him before turning away.
Will drew up a vicious smile that felt all too blunt in the face of his own heartbreak. “Hi Daddy.” He half shouted, sashaying his way through the floor like it’s some promenade to display his body. Mason watched impassively, his eyes uncharacteristically subdued and disinterested as a curtain of grief muted his beady eyes. No wonder he’s here with all the noise and stench. They’re the only thing that could cut through the fog.
‘Yeah, that’ll do.’ Will thought, forming his plans to entice the monster back to life. At first, he’ll give Mason some cheap entertainment for pay, but now he could offer something more addictive than the designer drugs he’s so fond of.
Brazenly, he reached down for the remote in Mason’s lap and turned off the stereo, moving like a svelte predator as he placed himself on the man’s lap.
“Hi Daddy. I missed you.” He smiled, placing a kiss on the corner of Mason’s whisker-covered lips. Something inside him recoil in disgust. Even when he’s sick Hannibal never neglects himself like this. It felt wrong. He wanted to run back to the man and retrieve the parts of himself he left with Hannibal, but needs must when the devil drives, and the boy needed some quick hard cash if he’s to survive next semester.
Unmoved by the boy’s exploration, the man let Will nuzzle close to his unwashed mourning clothes, but the small flicker of interest was not enough to break through the wall of grief that has numbed his senses. Will sighed and snuffled gently, displaying himself as some weak little thing to devour.
He waited, wondering if his lure has outgrown Mason’s perversion. If so, he might have to run. A swine master he might be, but Mason has never been kind to anyone trying to swindle his pockets. If he could get out, Will would need to go somewhere safe. Uncle Jack could work, but then he’ll only ask questions about Hannibal, questions that will surely make him cry.
As the boy desperately remade his plans, Mason stared at him with unblinking eyes, confused at having a boy in his lap when he’s asked for none. Finally he sighed, clutching onto Will like an overgrown teddy bear.
“You miss your Daddy huh?” Mason drawled with a mocking tone. “Well, I miss my Daddy too. Did you know that he died last week? Just shy of Christmas, working oh so hard for his family. Died of overwork, they say. That’s why I ‘terminated’ all of his PAs. If they weren’t too busy fucking him for handbags then they could’ve actually helped him fax documents or something.” The man’s eyes remained distant, his mind occupied elsewhere as he entertained yet another sycophant. “Worked himself to death, the poor thing. Oh, have I told you about Daddy’s funeral?”
Will listened on as Mason rambled, filling away every word to exploit later in their relationship, if there’s any that is. Mason looked completely uninterested and apathetic. It could be the grief. It could be that Will was simply too old for the man now.
“And why have you come back huh? Thought you wanted to get an education so you can get a fancy job and be in.de.pen.dent.” Mason mocked said, his voice high and shrilly.
Will’s smile cracked, whether it’s intentional or not, he lowered his walls and let the shame of his words breach his heart. “D-d-daddyy…” He wailed, burying his face in the crook of Mason’s neck, thinking only of the man he lost who dared to make him love.
At first there was no movement. Mason remained still, unsure of what to do now that there’s a boy past thirteen sobbing in his arms. Slowly his hand cradled the tousled head of hair nestled upon his shoulder, patting gently in commiseration.
Fast as a striking serpent, the man grabbed Will’s hair and jerked him up, empty blue eyes searching hungrily as tears raked down the boy’s cheeks. Will looked up helplessly at this monster, the one he thought he tamed all those years ago, now unleashed with grief and new avarice.
“Too bad you have to go and grow up.” He sneered, looking down distastefully onto Will’s gangly limbs. “You used to be so pretty.” Mason groaned, his long spidery fingers grabbing the scant flesh of Will’s frame. Satisfied Mason flipped open a small case where he kept his blotting paper, soaking up Will’s tears as his cock grew hard beneath them.
The boy endured, scrunching his face this way and that way to eke out the few tears he could produce, but as his mind wandered to Hannibal, he found that it’s impossible to stop.
With his case full of tears, Mason tilted Will’s face up and licked his cheeks, lapping up the tears with barely contained glee. He turned the music back on and threw the remote into the pig pen, delighting in the crunch of plastic as the music swelled once more. They ate as he did, with gusto and greed.
Will gasped as the slimy tongue turned into biting teeth, enduring it all just so he could be consumed by the sensation, He tore his clothes off, laying himself as a feast so he might feel something other than grief.
He has given everything to a man who could not do the same. Will wanted to stay so he tried his best to love Hannibal as he was, but something inside him rebelled at being second best. When it comes down to it, Will would rather submit himself to a swine than to only be a mistress to Hannibal’s heart.
When the music stopped and his behind was as sore as his soul, Will sighed and sagged onto Mason’s body, his mind still noting the difference between his new owner and Hannibal. The new patriarch endured Will’s newfound clinginess, holding the boy just as tightly as he too tried to search for some comfort.
“You’re the only one who dared to come to me.” Mason said, eyes distant as he beheld the abused boy in wonder. Will looked back, tired eyes blinking owlishly at Mason’s statement. “My servants, my friends, not even my sister came to console me.” His cum stained hand clawed onto Will’s flesh like a child clutching their new favorite toy. “Only father’s old cronies visited, but they only did it to weasel their way into the Verger business. Is that why you’re here? To claw your piece of my family’s fortune?” Mason snarled, his madness rearing back in the quiet afterglow.
A scoff escaped Will’s lips unbidden, already bored of Mason’s narcissism. “I don’t give a shit about your family’s name.” Will bit back, ignoring the warning hand tightening over his nape. “I don’t give a shit about any of your family. I just…”
The word finally broke him, reminding Will of the good times he’ll never have again, of simple shopping and strict instructions, of quiet moments broken by two scribbling pens. Of Hannibal, who has changed him irrevocably only to reveal his heart remained with another.
“Misha…”
How he loathed the name.
“Aww poor baby… what’s wrong?” Mason patted his head with uncharacteristic tenderness. His attempts at comfort fell flat, his voice habitually locked into a mocking tilt that made Will snort. “Oh, I know. You got your pretty little heart broken, didn’t you?”
Will stiffened, unused to having someone other than Hannibal see him so clearly. “Whatever.” Will cried, clutching onto the monster with real desperation. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He didn’t love me. Not really.”
“And now you’ve come crying back to Daddy.” Mason chuckled, the sadist in him delighting at the humiliation he inflicted on Will. “My poor little whore. What makes you think anyone could love you?”
The words shouldn’t hurt him as much as they did. He always ignored Mason’s little jabs, never giving him the satisfaction of hurting his body as well as his heart, but how could he deny those poisonous words when it rings true?
Will should’ve known better. He should’ve kept himself apart and focused on himself. Instead, he stupidly put his life on hold to appease a man he’ll eventually leave. Maybe it wasn’t Hannibal that was unworthy of his love. Maybe it was just him who was so unlovable.
“You’re right Daddy…” Will sniffled, bolstering himself to face Mason once more. “It was dumb of me to try and find another Daddy.” He turned his big wet eyes, watching Mason grow even more hungry at the sight. “I’ve seen the world and it’s ugly. People… they’re just not worth it, are they? You pour all your time and effort into them and they just… throw it all way.”
“Ungrateful plebs. All of them.” Mason rumbled in agreement, though amused at the boy’s sudden bitterness. What could a child like him know about the ugliness of the world, Mason thought, but Will has always been special to the man. Special enough to coax some measure of pillow talk from the pedophile.
“I just wanted to be like everybody else, but there’s no one else in the world quite like us, is there?” Will cocked his head, opening his mind to meld into Mason’s twisted psyche.
There he found a familiar arrogance, nurtured by a family so rich and powerful they spend more time abusing their power than showing him any real love. He found the core of Mason’s cruelty, born out of an inability to empathize with people he deemed lesser. He found the framework of a monster, whose mind grew so numb that only the most depraved acts could stimulate some kind of emotion.
And amongst the black hole that made Mason who he was, Will found an ache for a father’s love, one that remained unfulfilled even to this day. ‘Pathetic.’ The boy thought, bemused that someone so singularly vile could have such a commonplace trauma.
“Oh? We’re alike now, are we?” Mason chortled, tickled by the thought.
“Are we not?” Will insisted slyly. “We both lost someone, we’re the only ones who enjoy playing this way-” Mason laughed in delight, nodding along just to indulge the boy. “And now, we’re both orphans with no one else to lean on. See? We’re more alike than you think.”
The lies flowed easily through his lips, his mind subsuming Mason’s loneliness and loathing before reflecting it back to the man. He watched as his carefully crafted lies touched something deep in the man, how the profound truth in those lies broke through the thick brume of grief that has numbed Mason to everything. Will smiled even when his heart recoiled from the joy his words gave to Mason, words that were meant for Hannibal in the first place.
“Ahh… I knew it. I knew you only you could understand me.” Mason whispered, eyes shining as he basked in the comfort of being seen. He rolled them down onto the floor, hay and dirt caking onto their skin. Their wet mouths indistinguishable from the smacking of the animals below. “Why did I ever let you go? My pretty little toy. Oh, if only you could stay little forever.”
Despite the overwhelming urge to vomit out the truth, Will swallowed them back and simply smiled. He tilted his head back, making room for Mason’s teeth to sink into his neck, and when their frantic fucking pushed his head over the ledge’s edge, he reveled in the sea of pink screeching pigs.
Their screams became a refrain to a new opera in his mind, one where a boy devolved into an animal in the wake of pain and heartbreak. He doesn’t know how the story will end, but Will knew how he’ll survive; not as the man Hannibal taught him to be, but as a base animal, satisfying his base desires.
***
When the sun has long set and the construction crews have been sent home, Will leaned onto the barn door as he watched the silhouette of Mason’s new project in the distance. Behind him the man patted his favorite pigs goodbye and put on his dirt-covered mourning clothes with a delighted whistle.
Will stared at the handful of cash he stole from Mason’s suit, wondering why the hell did he go through all of that just for money. Was it all just an excuse to throw himself back into the arms of another? If so, then does that make him more pathetic than a mere prostitute? Or has he devolved into the poor traumatized boy Hannibal insisted he must be?
“Lucky for you, Daddy’s room has enough space for two.” Mason smiled. “Stay. Daddy will take care of you.”
Will smiled wanly, nodding as he hides the money in the folds of his dirty clothes. In the corner of his eyes he could see the pulsing ember of Manny’s cigarette, a vulture lying in wait. All of a sudden, he felt exhaustion set into him, bone-deep as he took in the implication of his choices.
As the two men walked him back into the house, Will tried his best to forget about Hannibal. Then again, that’s the problem with forgetting. The effort only etched Hannibal’s name deeper into Will’s mind, as if he hasn’t made a place for himself in his soul.
‘How disgusting.’ Will thought and walked on.