Not What Daddy Wanted

Author: Poison
Beta: Ashton-chan
Annoying Notice: Okay, this was all Ashton's fault. Not even she can deny it this time. It seriously was her fault. This is what happens when you leave a Hannibal fan alone with an easily influenced author. -nods- I can not be held responsible for my actions....XD okay, that last part was a lie, but the rest of it is true. I wrote this at about 10:30pm-1:00am. I should mention the coffee breaks I kept taking, and the youtube distractions. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Or....well...yeah, I'll leave it at that.

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Not What Daddy Wanted

Why did things always start out with a laughing woman? It seemed in the movies that was what started the killer’s rampage, or the straw that breaks the homicidal psychopathic camels back, causing them to go home, get a gun, and come back to kill everyone. Well, it seemed the movies had a good idea of what set people off. Thomas laughed a little as he watched his own fingers, working the needle and wire as expertly as though he’d always been doing it. Grabbing the sticky scissors that sat by his side, the thin seventeen year old snipped the end of the wire and pulled his face away to admire the work he’d done. Horrified blue eyes looked up at the black-haired boy in panic and desperation, though no sound came from the freshly sewn together lips.

“You’re not laughing anymore, are you?” He asked in a soft, slow monotone, unwilling to show any emotion in his voice. Best not to enjoy it too much, it was too early for that. His fingers played with a lock of stray hair that was laying across the pathetic human’s face, a small smile gracing his lips. “You know, normally it’s a woman. Weird, isn’t it? If they get me for your murder though, at least I’ll stand out from all the others.” A male, not much smaller then than Thomas himself, whined in his throat, shaking his head quickly in an attempt to both get the strangers fingers off him and beg for his life. Thomas snorted, black hair falling in his eyes.

“If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, maybe we’d have been friends. My dear mother cried herself to sleep every night because of you. It was so painful. I had to put her out of her misery, you know?” Motioning with the needle to the wall opposite them, Thomas gave a sad smile. A woman stood propped against the wall, blood covering the front of her white nightdress. Her head was slumping forward, and thick black hair so much like Thomas’s covered her horrified expression. She was held up by metal steaks, driven into both her shoulders and neck, like a macabre picture. “Do you know how hard it is to get nails through flesh and bone? I needed a sledge hammer, and even then it was hard. For mother, I’ll do anything.” Thomas smiled sickly and stood from where he was, walking over to the dead woman, hanging limply from the wall. He wrapped his arms around her neck in a hug, making the boy whose side he’d left thrash and tear up in disgust.

“You don’t love your mother? Do you love your father?” Thomas turned from the embrace, picking up a pale, limp arm and wrapping it around his shoulders, his mother’s chin resting on his own shoulder. Her horrified eyes now caught the chained boy on the floor, a sickening white frosted the natural forest green eyes, and this only made the poor blonde struggle more against his restraints. “Let me rephrase that. Our father?” This instantly made him stop moving, and he started wide eyed at Thomas, who’s eyes-so much like his mothers-flared in anger. “You didn’t know? Little brother. Father never told you? He left us for your bitch mother.” Now they were glaring at one another. Despite the pain it caused, the boy screamed, or attempted to, pulling on his freshly sewn lips and causing tears to come to his eyes.

Thomas left the limp embrace of his mother and kneeled next to the boy. “Daniel Johnathan Norton, born January 20, 1990. Fourteen years’ old. Mother, Jessica Norton. Father, Michael Fletcher Nielsen. Married nineteen years. Fucking twenty-three.” Thomas grabbed Daniel’s face hard and rose the carving knife he’d picked up moments before. The younger boy cowered and shut his eyes, tears flowing freely now. The black-haired psychotic lowered the knife slowly. “You’re pathetic, Danny. Yeah, I know dad calls you Danny. He used to call me Tommy. Your mother stole him. My mom never stopped crying.” He changed positions, moving down and strattling the chained boy's waist, putting the carving knife down. He picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Putting one of the cylinders in his mouth, he lit the tip and inhaled. Blowing smoke away from them, Thomas shook his head. “I’ll bet dearest daddy never loved you like he loved me.” There was a sick glint in those green eyes, and Daniel attempted to press his back closer to the concrete below him, almost trying to sink into it.

Thomas sucked on the cigarette for a few more moments before moving it from between his lips, and letting it dangle between his fingers. “He loved me a lot, you know?” The black-haired boy spoke softly now, and sounded distant, looking up at the woman hanging from the wall, as though talking to her now. “He’d come into my room late at night. Tell me how much he loved me.” Slowly, he put down the cigarette and picked the knife up again, sliding it under the younger boy’s shirt. Daniel looked horrified as Thomas cut the material off, exposing his pale, lean chest. “He’d run his fingers down my torso, just like this.” Thin, hot fingers ran down the bruised chest of the boy who squirmed under him. Thomas still sounded far away, even though he was looking right into the other boy’s blue eyes. “He’d lay on my bed, and take me into his arms, rock me gently as he eased off my pajama bottoms.” As he spoke, Thomas unbuttoned the jeans that adorned slim hips, and unzipped them, starting to push both the jeans and underwear off.

The chains around Daniel’s legs gave some slack, just enough to do what Thomas was planning on doing. He continued his story when the pants were around his half-brothers ankles. “He only started when I was fourteen, you know? After I hit puberty. He’d started coming to my room the night after he walked in on me masturbating. I guess he only loved me after he knew I could get hard.” Thomas bit his lip, his eyes still glazed over, as though in a far away place. "He’d start touching me, just gently. All fingers and palm, making sure he got me good and erect.” Thomas started mimicking his words with actions, wrapping his hand around Daniel’s limp cock, stroking gently, adding just enough pressure to start getting the boy hard. It confused the fourteen-year-old. Surly he was too scared to get hard, right? The things that hand did to his body though, he just couldn’t help it. Attempting to will his penis from becoming any more aroused, he looked at the lifeless form of the woman nailed to the wall again.

“The first few times, I was too scared. I couldn’t get it up, because I didn’t understand. I didn’t know it was just daddy, showing me his love. He showed me how much he loved me, and helped.” With that, Thomas moved down the frame of his younger half brother and wrapped his lips around the half hard cock, using his tongue and teeth to bring it to life. It was the perfect combination, and even though there was pain coursing through his entire body, and he was looking at a corpse, Daniel grew hard, fast. A small moan told Thomas to stop. He pulled away and continued with his story, unbuttoning his pants. “He never let me touch him, because that’s not what daddy wanted. He wanted to love his little boy. To show him he was special.” The black-haired seventeen year old did some serious repositioning, pulling Daniel’s hips up and resting the other’s now bent knees on his own hips, his erection pressing lightly against the hidden entrance. “So every night, he’d make me hard, and then pull me up, just like this. He’d lean forward, and pushed in just a little.” Thomas pushed in to the head, before he pulled out again.

Daniel was screaming in his throat now, finger nails clawing at the ground as best they could, hands shackled to the floor. This was the worst torture he’d felt in his entire life. Thomas was depraved. His loving father would’ve never done this. Definitely not to his own son. “He’d push back in, this time all the way.” Thomas did just that, shuddering with the sensation, with the tears that flowed from the younger male’s eyes now, and the pleading noises that distinctly sounded like, ‘Stop!’. “He’d whisper sweet nothings to me. Those nights we shared. When he wasn’t with your bitch mother.” Again, Thomas got angry. “One night, he wasn’t nice. He said he hated me. He turned me over, and broke my arm. He kept beating me, and then he shoved inside me. I never cried as hard as I did that night. He didn’t even cum in me.”

Thomas was thrusting roughly now, his mouth shut tight and his green eyes burning a hole into Daniel’s blue. Neither of them looked away as the black-haired boy continued with what he was doing, hips moving frantically as he started biting his lip. “He hated me. He hated me! He loved you. He beat the hell out of me. I’m only seventeen.” Thomas leaned in close, grunting as he thrust deeper, enjoying the whimpers he was pulling from the tortured boy’s throat. “He never fucked you, though.” The teen kept going, moaning low into the other’s ear as he did, knowing he was near the final act. Thomas looked into those terrified blue eyes and herd that pathetic whimper of pain and shame, and that was all it took. He thrust hard and deep, and came inside the unwilling body.

“Maybe he did love you and your bitch mother more. Maybe that’s why he left us.” Thomas had recovered quickly, and was already buttoning his own pants. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t get more then she did from him though. Even after he left. There is no way she got more of his cock then I did.” Thomas picked up the knife and put it to Daniel’s skin. “Danny. Poor kid. If my dad hadn’t stopped loving me, you’d have grown up normal.” Slowly the knife sunk into pale skin, and took on a whole new kind of hurt for Daniel. Slowly the knife carved his skin, just superficial cuts. Licking his lips, Thomas stayed quite for a few moments, a smile plaguing his lips. When he was done, Daniel stopped thrashing and looked at his bloody skin. ‘Daddy-Come Home’ Had been carved into his lower stomach, just above his navel. Daniel started thrashing again.

“Fuck you, pretty boy. Fuck you. You’ve done nothing but destroy my entire family. When you’re dead, I’m going after that bitch mother of yours.” The black-haired teen narrowed his eyes. “I’m seventeen fucking years old, and I’m so goddamned obsessed with that man, it’s pathetic. He fucked me over-YOU fucked me over. I’m going after him last. I’ll bring him down here, and do the same things I’ve done to you.” The knife struck Daniel’s side, and the boy screamed in agony, trying to open his mouth and tearing at the stitch job that had been done. Pulling the knife out of the wound, Thomas licked the thick red blood that now coated the blade.

It was with that first lick that he lost his mind. Thomas had been insane since the moment his father lay a hard fist on him, but at least he’d kept a logical mind about him. Now there was nothing going on behind those pure green eyes other then to kill. He rose the knife with both hands and started stabbing furiously. Again and again the knife sunk into the fourteen year olds flesh and blood spurted from the new wounds every time. Some hits got the boy’s throat, some right in the heart, some in the abdomen, all of them pierced flesh though. Daniel was dead after the first four, the forth having pierced his heart directly. The hot red liquid was everywhere, and Thomas couldn’t stop. His vision was clouded, and he felt the blood getting everywhere on his lean form. He was unaware he’d been screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs since the first stab.

Forty-two stab wounds. The black-haired teen had created forty-two stab wounds in his half brother before he regained his sanity. Looking at the bloody mess that was once his own flesh, he panted and sobbed. Tears came rolling down his cheeks in torrents, and he was suddenly choking on the taste and smell of the copper liquid that seemed to cover his entire body. Standing on shaky legs and staring down at the mess, he dropped the knife and went to the dead body of his mother, seeking comfort in her cold arms. “I’ve done it, mother. I’ve done what had to be done. He’s dead now, we can be one happy family together. Daddy will come home soon, and we can all be one again.” He laughed, slow and soft. In the distance, the sound of sirens approched, and in the passenger seat of the first police car on scene, Michael Nielsen prayed it wasn't too late.

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Cin: I'm probably adding more to this later. If I do update, it'll be within two weeks. And at least every two weeks after that until I decide to end this bitch.
Thomas: Why did you make me insane? I swear I'm normally sweet.
Cin: That's called acting your part, sweetie.
Thomas: Oh. Well, for the readers information, I swear, I was never abused by my father. He was a kind, loving man who stayed with my mother for many years.
Daniel: Repessed.
Thomas: GAAAH!!
Daniel: Acting dead, Tommy. Acting.
Thomas: Oh...right. I forgot.
Cin: Shut up, both of you. See you all next chapter ^^