The next day, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was nursing a drink and thinking about his purchase. When he got home, he had taken the ram out of his trunk, still wrapped in his coat, and carefully brought him inside. What he was doing was dangerous. He lived in the middle of one of the biggest cities in Land of Predator, Glacier City. It was also one of the coldest. It was a bustling city surrounded by mountains. The winters were long. The area was engulfed in snow at least half the year. The snow leopard didn’t mind the cold though. He didn’t get cold easily so it really didn’t bother him. What he did mind was the populous. Glacier City was the biggest city in the north. And like big cities, it was loud and never seemed to go to sleep. The snow leopard much preferred living in a less dense area, but couldn’t. The grocery stores in the small towns in the mountains just weren’t up to his standards. Hannibal couldn’t find nearly half of his favorites in those small family-run stores.
But now Hannibal faced a new problem with the city. It made it harder to hide the sheep sleeping in the next room. After carrying the sheep in his coat past the building’s front desk, into the elevator, and up to his floor, he’d placed the ram on his bed so it could sleep off the drugs. He’d made sure to pull down the window shade before unwrapping the ram from his coat. If anyone found out he had such a prize, the ram would be taken from him, probably to a farm or a slaughter house and Hannibal would have life imprisonment…unless he could worm his way out of it. He did treat a few of the officers in the city and was quite friendly with a female judge…but harboring live food from Land of Prey was a very serious crime. Not that the higher ups didn’t also buy such delicacies on the black market themselves. Hannibal knew of a few state governors, current and previous patients of his, who hid such deeds.
Hannibal took a sip of his wine and pondered what to do with his newly acquired meal that had yet to wake. He could make lamb chops. He knew he wanted to use every part of the ram. From his feet to his ears. Maybe he should roast the lamb in the oven whole. Alive or dead? What seasonings would he use? What utensils? Should he stuff the lamb first? Maybe he should marinate the lamb. He’d use red wine of course. The man stared at the wine in his glass. He’d need to acquire a good wine. A good vintage. Maybe he should marinate the lamb from the inside, completely immerse his ram in wine inside and out. Yes, he needed to start looking for the perfect wine.
Hannibal drained his cup and stood from his wing-backed chair. He walked into his bedroom and admired the naked ram sleeping soundly on top of the sheets. Will, he believed his name was, was absolutely stunning. Just seeing the ram’s chest rise and fall with his slow breaths made Hannibal’s member twitch. The ram was alive. A living prey animal, a black sheep no less, was sleeping on his bed. It was almost inconceivable. Hannibal had lamb on his table many nights, but this…Will was alive. Hannibal felt instincts inside him come to life. He wanted to stalk this slumbering animal, stalk him and pounce. He wanted to sink his teeth deep within the neck of his prey. His prey. Will was his, belonged to him.
Hannibal smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his large hand on the ram’s chest, where his heart was. It was his right to stop that heart whenever he saw fit. Hannibal looked at the ram’s face. On the outside, prey and predator animals looked much alike. Eyes, nose, mouth, hands, feet, skin…it was all the same. Their ears and tails were different, but that’s about it for outward appearance. It was the inside that counted. Prey animals were absolutely delicious. And lamb just so happened to be Hannibal’s favorite.
Before devouring the creature, he planned to make use of his body first. Hannibal’s cock stiffened as he looked at the sheep’s small member. He parted the animal’s thighs and spread Will’s cheeks with his thumbs. He had sat so far away from the stage while at the auction so he hadn’t been able to get as good a look at the ram as he’d wished. Now though, now he could see everything, could touch him.
The snow leopard brushed his thumb against the ram’s tight pucker and saw the animal visibly shiver in its medicated sleep. Yes, he had to have him sexually before he ate him. It was a must. The ram had captivated him so much. He wanted to hear it speak more. He’d never before heard a prey animal talk and now he couldn’t wait for it to wake up. What would be the first words out of its mouth when it woke? Hannibal guessed it would scream in horror and beg for its pitiful life. The doctor was not unaccustomed to that; though such pleas were always from rude predator animals. The doctor could not stand rudeness and sometimes dined on more than just prey animals. The leopard chuckled to himself as he let go of the ram’s behind.
He walked over to the head of the bed and looked at the ram’s face. Will was handsome and young. Though Hannibal had thought his eyes had revealed his true age. So, older than he looked. Hannibal guessed roughly nineteen or twenty. He had to be old enough to be in the Prey FBI though.
The snow leopard rummaged through the bag of belongings he’d received with the sheep. He took out the handgun, removed the bullets, and placed the device on the nightstand. Then he took out the glasses, which he also placed on the nightstand. It amused him that his food wore glasses, that it had been raised in a civilized environment much like his own instead of branded and force-feed its whole life at a farm.
Next came the handcuffs. He couldn’t help thinking about what the announcer had said about ‘the lamb slut’ bringing his own handcuffs. Dr. Lecter’s cock twitched in his trousers. They would definitely make use of the handcuffs. Part of him even wanted to tie the ram’s wrists to the bars of the headboard right now and wait for Will to struggle in them when he awoke. The ram would make a good sight tied up.
The leopard smirked and put the handcuffs in his back pocket before pulling out the sheep’s badge. Well, it wasn’t really a badge. It was an ID card with the ram’s credentials. ‘Special Agent Gaham’ it read. It also had his ID number. Hannibal rummaged around in the bag and felt for a wallet. When he found it, he pulled it out and looked inside. There was some Land of Prey money, credit cards, and there- a driver’s license. The leopard looked at it. So the ram was already twenty-five. Older than he thought. In the photo he had stubble, but no horns. Odd. Had he been in an accident when he was little? If the predators hadn’t taken his horns, then who had? Unless…
Hannibal reached over and felt the top of the ram’s head with his hand. The ram’s wool was fluffy and curled at the tips. It was soft and felt very nice to the touch. He didn’t have to feel around for long until he felt the tips of two horns. Hannibal smiled. So the ram had horns, they were just small. A birth defect perhaps. The snow leopard found himself wondering what he could do with such small stubs once he cut them off the ram’s head. Would they even sell? He supposed they would if they were from a black sheep.
Hannibal put the ID on the nightstand with the other objects. The wallet and driver’s license he kept. The bag only held clothes now. He put the bag on a wicker chair and glanced once more at the sheep’s rising and falling chest before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed his favorite cookbook. It was all sheep and lamb recipes. He sat in the study, perusing the book for a good recipe.
Finnian Siog 