so, babyyy, in honor of my birthday on monday.. could i pretty please have a vincent and rody one shot. except it's a hannibal au, with angst and smut pretty please! make it however you want and surprise me with the rest!
[ex asked this before cheating on me with an adult and lying about me to her friends xx]
You task me with such a difficult thing, my dear..but yes, I shall obey. I will do the best I can with the timeframe I have. Love you lots, happy early birthday (or technically on time, since this will be posted on the 5th) my darling <3
Vincent x Rody (Dead Plate) (angst (realization), smut)
Contents: Love (a little forced, whatever Vincent is capable of), cannibalism (both mentioned and done unknowingly), riding, choking, anal (dom receiving), degrading, biting, slight angst, manipulation
Note: In this, they remain boss and waiter, with their side jobs being detective and therapist. So Rody is a side detective, and Vince a side therapist. I adore these two. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚..𖥔 ݁ ˖.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚..𖥔 ݁ ˖.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚..𖥔 ݁ ˖.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚..𖥔 ݁ ˖.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚..𖥔
It was late, once again. How many times had they played this game? Vincent would call Rody over, softly demanding he play waiter during his off hours, and never pay him, nor give a raise. Quite pathetic, wasn't it? It's not like Rody had any other friends.
Hardly. Rody was almost certain if it wasn't for his slight increase on his work ethics these past few months, and the need for employees, he would have been fired from the La Gueule de Saturne on day one.
Rody had saved up enough to buy an outfit more fitting for the night. Since his last few times being the personal butler, people had commented on his lack of style.
Not that he'd admit it, but maybe he also wanted to impress Vincent.
He felt self-conscious about the way Vincent's 'friends' looked at him in his dirty, beat down clothes. Plus, maybe a new outfit would be a personal treat for himself.
Rody parked his bike outside Vincent's apartment, tying it together and making his way inside. He knew the way there a little too well-- it was a little alarming to himself.
His hands trembled a little, his feet sounding heavy as he approached the door, only to deliver three knocks. No matter what, his anxiety and bashful nature caused something to go wrong.
The door opened, the volatile expression not easing anything.
Rody muttered an apology, despite not feeling he truly needed to. What he didn't miss, was the eyes drilling into his skin, peeling him apart, disconnecting the seams in which messily held his body together. Vincent's gaze always felt coarse and rough, never easy, always demanding something, always scrutinizing what he did.
Why couldn't his personality be like a lemon? Maybe then Vincent would like him.
"The food is in the kitchen. I'd recommend taking two plates this time. Saves everyone's time."
Why must Rody take everything that's blunt-forced shoved at him? Take whatever hell must deliver with a smile, as if he's always alright? Girlfriend left, probably found someone better, boss cruel, only real friend. His parents and old friends saw him as a nobody who couldn't take anything. He couldn't handle school, couldn't handle a relationship.
What was he good for, then?
"Hurry up, they're here."
A voice called out, swiping Rody from his derogatory thoughts.
His movements were quick, grabbing a plate of Jalapeño Popper and steamed dumplings.
His stomach growled, hunger etching at his bones.
But he continued. asking politely what the guests wanted.
This dinner party was lame. Nobody really talked, Vincent just stared, as if babysitting grown adults, they all had something either snarky or idiotic to say. Was this a people gazing party??
When they party had ended, he found himself rather exhausted. Today was rush hour, and the after-work party-in which he didn't get to indulge-was mentally and physically draining. His world seemed clouded by a dark, foggy abyss, emotions swindling.
When was Manon going to call back?
As he left the kitchen, heading towards the door, Vincent's voice called, almost clearing his mind fog.
His posture adjusted from his slouched strut, eyes widening from their tired gaze, turning to meet the pale man's eyes.
"Why don't you stay for a while. I made you food."
Rody stared at Vincent, as if deciphering why on Earth this man wanted him to stay.
Not that he was complaining, but Vincent wasn't the type to ask for his company.
Vincent looked as though he was beginning to regret his decision, his eyes darkening once more.
"I-I meant- yes, I'll stay."
Vincent offered half of a smile-- still more than Rody had ever seen. It was almost balming in the way he smiled. His features softened, his skin pulling like a string, exposing his cheek bones and eyebrows. My, was Vincent always this attractive?
Rody followed Vincent, his broad frame feeling more like a dogs than a mans. But the smell of food continued to hunger Rody. He was really in no place to deny food. While Vincent may not have made his food with love, the taste was beyond impeccable.
"I have made you beef braciole. This cow was quite the scrawny cow. Though I'm sure you'll enjoy."
Vincent was always so sure his food would be good. It was a little admirable the way he carried himself, as if he was a god.
Rody sat down at the table, and muttered a thank you as the food was placed in front of him, Vincent following, almost mirroring his actions, sitting down as well.
As he began eating, he tasted something different than the rest. Internally, Rody wanted to joke that this was the first real dish 'made with love' by Vincent. Such adolescent thoughts.
"What is different about this? Your food usually tastes different."
Rody had noticed the watchful gaze while eating. He felt himself being pulled apart again. Like a bug under a microscope, always seeing Vincent's eyes in mirrors or windows, never escaping the gaze of this devilish man.
"I had..tried a new technique. Is it not good?"
Rody had choked on his food, the sound of laced desperation sounding pitifully painful to him. Why did Vincent have to be so gentle at the worst times? So charming, so..so enchanting? It was as if each word spoken on a wavelength that only Rody could understand, manipulating the way he felt, no matter what he wanted to feel.
What were the words? Good? That sounded plain. Excellent? Too professional.
"I can always bring you a different dish."
He spoke in a tone that sounded far less than his usual cold self. Something a little too soft, causing Rody's mind to short circuit. Why?
"No, please. It's really good. I just can't find the words to explain it."
He began stuffing more food into his mouth, showing how delicious it was. Despite the odd after-taste and strangeness of it all, he did truly enjoy the meal.
He looked like a pig when eating, but maybe that's why he liked Rody. A pig, just another fat meal for him to try in hopes of tasting again. Maybe he could season him with lemon zest, see if his taste had a tang. Gave him a feeling.
When Rody finished, Vincent found himself staring, his cold eyes boring into the man's face, watching every chew, every twitch, every smile. Everything.
He knew Rody felt uneasy by it all, but there was something about him.
What was this feeling?
This hunger that bypassed physical?
The desire to consume, mingling with the desire to keep him close?
You don't play with your food, Vincent.
Why are you breaking the rules now?
Was Rody worth sharing?
Was he worth the hunger?
A voice brought Vincent back to reality, his eyes dilating as Rody spoke in a voice that bordered fear, but held confusion, and possibly care.
"Vincent? Is everything okay? You're acting off today."
It wasn't like Rody to bluntly state how he was acting different.
The sudden sharp tone had caused him to shrink in his chair, setting the fork aside.
"Right..I'm done eating. I should get home."
As Rody stood, he felt every inch of his body become heavy. His mind always felt so blank after time with Vincent. Whether it was therapy or food, he always felt his mind slip and fade, forced into a state of reliance.
Vincent found himself staring, his gaze unreadable, but lingering. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, and for a moment, Rody swore the tempo matched his heartbeat.
"You eat like you haven't in days,"
Vincent began, almost fondly.
Rody stiffened. Why did Vincent always do that?
Vincent stood, his chair creaking back. His shadow loomed, long and lean across the floor.
"Busy starving yourself for the approval of strangers?"
The words were soft, but each one sliced into Rody with precision, like a scalpel. He turned his eyes to the floor.
"I’m not..starving myself."
Vincent grew closer now. Rody hadn’t even heard him move. A cool hand touched his chin, coaxing his head up. Why must he be so gentle?
"Then why do you look like something someone might eat?"
There it was. The heat behind the stare, the quiet, unspoken hunger. Rody couldn’t look away, caught in that frostbitten gaze. Like a deer in headlights. Or a deer seeing its predator, unable to break from the gaze, too petrified.
Vincent’s lips barely twitched. He was thinking a little too hard for Rody's liking.
"You should shower. I’ll draw it for you. Eat, then wash. It’s how we keep livestock from tasting like fear."
Rody felt his throat close up. His eyes searched Vincent’s for some sign he was joking-- but there was nothing. Just that same elegant vacancy.
"You're not funny, Vince."
Still, Rody obeyed. He always obeyed.
The bathroom was warm, filled with the scent of bergamot and something metallic-- coppery, almost iron. His clothes fell to the tile floor like a second skin peeling away, leaving him vulnerable, bare in more ways than one.
He had never been bare before like this for someone.
When he stepped out, towel wrapped around his hips, Vincent was there again. Like he belonged there. Like he lived in every dark corner of the apartment and every crevice of Rody’s mind.
Vincent's eyes dragged over him slowly. A little too thoughtful.
Rody flushed under the weight of it.
From embarrassment, or shame?
"Why do you keep me around?"
"Because I’m fond of you."
The only sound was his heartbeat in his ears, his fingers twitching as the water filled the bath.
"Is that so hard to believe?"
Rody’s lips parted. He wanted to argue. Wanted to scream, you terrify me, you make me feel like prey and I don’t even care anymore-- but instead, he whispered,
Vincent stepped closer. There was no mistaking the intent anymore. His fingers brushed Rody’s collarbone, and then down, tracing the damp skin with reverence.
Vincent murmured, his eyes anywhere but Rody's own,
His touch burned. Not cruel. Not hurried. Curious. Like someone who wanted to see this.
"You don’t know what I am,"
Vincent began, breath ghosting across Rody’s skin, despite their parted bodies.
"You think you do. But you don’t."
Rody’s hands trembled at his sides.
Vincent pulled his hand away, stepping back. His posture remained intimidating, and he stared at Rody, as if judging him for his sins.
"Get in the water. You smell."
It was alarming how quick he changed, his demeanor almost lustrous; but maybe that was just hope. Maybe Rody needed a change in his pace.
As Vincent descended into his depths, the shadows consuming his lean figure, Rody stepped into the warmth. It was the best feeling he had felt in a while.
He had dozed off momentarily, not hearing any approaching steps. This felt better than sleeping on his couch.
The sound of a cloth dropping on the tiled floor had awoken Rody from his momentary slumber, head snapping to see Vincent.
His pale form almost shined a corona of light, the bright overhead light seeming to pool around, casted by the darkness of Vincent's shadow.
Rody's lips had parted to speak, but only a strangled noise escaped, a mixture of confusion and adrenaline filling him.
Vincent stepped into the water with Rody, not uttering a word, his legs settling beside Rody's.
"Vince- The hell are- What is this?"
He began sputtering. He was a virgin, no doubt, never pulling much for anything. So having somebody so willingly come to him was a little daunting.
"You talk too much, Rody. Maybe learn to stop for a while."
Rody's mouth had shut into a thin line. The feeling of Vincent's cold fingers against his pulse point had caused Rody's head to feel light.
"Is that really all it takes to get you worked up? Pathetic."
The pressure of a knee against his half-erect member had caused shame to spread through his body. He wasn't sure if speaking was allowed in this moment.
When his lips parted to speak again, only a moan of surprise was able to leave him. Vincent had hiked himself onto Rody's lap, his thin figure holding Rody's hips into the water, never daring to allow him to buck or pull away.
He wasn't sure if it was a plead for more, or for Vincent to actually say something. Other than for him to shut up.
"I said to quit talking. Didn't I?"
Before an apology was made due, Rody's painfully erect member was sunken down on, his virgin penis encased with something so warm and foreign.
Rody's hands found hips, while Vincent's found his neck again. He applied pressure, watching with great contentment as Rody began falling apart with such small, feeble attempts of more. The man's hips had bucked with no rhythm, his head tossed back in blissful array with that plaintive expression. It fueled Vincent as he began riding Rody, using him as ground through his fingers against his neck. He pressed his thin fingers against his trachea. Not enough to fully cut off his breath, but enough to cause his brain to short circuit for a moment.
Rody pulled Vincent down, gaining something more than his shaking and whining state, his hips thrusting up, causing the water to slosh around them.
Before Rody could catch an idea that he was in charge, Vincent leaned forward, his fingers digging into the flesh of his neck, cutting off any air circulation, his own hips slamming down to meet at the base.
Rody was big, even for Vincent.
It was such a shame he was this pitiful.
He began, before letting out a whine that echoed through the room, suffocated by the closed doors.
"So pretty like this..unable to do much. You always seem so capable,"
His sentence paused, eyes fluttering closed. Why was he so damn big??
"You find the victim's killer,"
His teeth grazed wet skin, tongue darting out to taste the saltiness,
"and you never stop until they're caught."
Teeth sunk into flesh, Rody's chest puffing out against Vincent's mouth.
His noises only encouraged Vincent to move his hips after, to milk Rody for all he was worth. To take what he wanted for once.
"But have you ever caught The Gilded Maw?"
Rody's eyes opened, his breath still lacking. With the force his member was receiving, and the lack of air, it was nearly impossible to understand anything.
What was Vincent referring to?
"No. Of course not. I'm far more capable than that. Far more..careful."
His movements grew harder, as if riding with intent, bordering on painful with how tight Vincent was. Rody's fingers grasped deep, only the sound of moans and water sloshing hiding the sound of their skin connecting together.
"Vincent, please! M' so close, so close-"
"Even in such state, in such a mind-"
Vincent gasped, his own member spewing fluids into the water,
"Even after my confession, you still beg to cum."
Rody gasped for air as his neck was let loose, cum filling Vincent far more than he had ever been filled. Still, he had to degrade him for something.
"That was your biggest load? Shame."
Rody's eyes began fluttering closed, only able to mutter a whine, unable to stay open. He was exhausted, and this drained him.
When he woke, the scent of smoke and Vincent filled his nose.
He sat up, only to wince. The bite on his skin, multiple--
Vincent only bit him once during sex.
His hands wandered to the marks, feeling multiple marks, multiple dents into his tan skin.
His mind began aimlessly wandering.
What was that Vincent said?
"I'm far more capable than that"
Rody's head twisted towards the sound, the tall, lean figure, a shadow, almost, against the window.
Rody swore his shadow looked like a man with antlers potruding from his head.
As Vincent began stepping closer, Rody couldn't move. He felt as though he was stuck in place, manipulated by the man.
Vincent's face is unrecognizable in the darkness. But a small noise escapes him. A chuckle, maybe? Almost a chuckle, but it sounded tense. A little pained.
He didn't want to be alone anymore.
Vincent asked, his voice soft and coaxing.
How could he say no to him?
To the man who had given him so much?
He couldn't say no. Instead, he fully sat up, his shaking hands finding Vincent's face, pulling him closer.
The smirk he saw seemed uncanny; stretched, far too wide. Maybe it was a catch in the light.
Vincent's breath tasted like ash and sulfur, inhuman and warm.
But Vincent was the one to guide the kiss with such a gentle caress, like warm wind on a spring evening.
Rody tasted the truth too late. Something was off about the meat.
The horror begins nestling in, like a tick so comfortably in the skin of an unknowing animal.
He felt shaken, sickened, but he didn't report Vincent. He couldn't.
He didn't want to be alone again.
Now, at home, he stares at his reflection, still tasting the meal. Feeling the emotions of the person he consumed.
To himself, he whispered,
