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Cravings	By : Idolhands Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 9784 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cravings
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 1
- 2
- 3
Title: CRAVINGS, part 2
By: Idol Hands
Rating: R (for themes)
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.
Warning: Chan/under-aged boy, prostitution, M/M Slash situations, D/S, really dark fiction.
Summary: Wonka is confronted by Charlie at dinner with issues concerning the factory or is it something more? Originally intended as a one shot, continued by popular demand.
Author’s notes: Please read and review. I’d really like to know what you liked and/or what you interprit in the continuation of the dark tale. I’ve left twisted plot-bunnies all over the place.

Sebastian just sat very, very still as he watched Willy Wonka slice and dice the meat on his plate into perfect bite-sized pieces. The man was a marvel with knives, even with gloves on; he could wield them with remarkable speed and accuracy. He also kept the blades razor sharp. The boy had not had the courage to raise his small head and look up at Mr. Wonka’s eyes. The closest he had come was up to the bridge of his nose, for just below that a distinct sneer could be seen. Between his rigid accuracy with the underdone meat and the twist of his red-stained mouth it was obvious that the man was very upset.
Charlie Bucket sat directly across from his mentor with a practically imperceptible grin, only revealed by the shadows his dimples created. Charlie’s hand pressed lazily against his face and it also wore a glove, but a different color and texture. The young man was clearly amused, possibly aroused, by the annoyance of his long-time mentor.
“I like your new look.” The man in the emerald-colored suit stated with admiration, “Leather really suits you.”
“Get your elbow off the table.” Said Wonka flatly.
Charlie suppressed a chuckle and obeyed. “I had no idea that this would upset you so much.”
“I am not upset.” He responded coldly and inserted a piece of the red meat with his long, elegant fork exactingly into his mouth. Sebastian found that he could no longer even look at the bottom of Mr. Wonka’s face as the man’s perfect, glistening, sharp white teeth chewed forcefully into the morsel. He wondered if the candymaker fully realized how frightening he was? What scared the child even more was that he was pretty sure that the man did not. That, if anything, Willy Wonka thought that he was an example to how others should be.
Charlie looked at Sebastian, who was seated next to him, with a pleased grin. Sebastian was still in awe of the similarities and differences between the two men. He wasn’t sure what to make of it exactly. Willy Wonka seemed a strange, complex, passionate, moody, manipulative and disciplined person. Charlie proved average, straightforward, sincere, calm, introverted, and wildly curious. Yet clearly Willy Wonka cherished Charlie Bucket more than anything in the whole world; enough to keep all of his wild urges at bay while constantly working right next to his heir for YEARS. Sebastian knew this secret because he personally fulfilled every fantasy that Mr. Wonka dared not expose to the young man. The slim boy was practically physically identical to how the handsome young man must have looked when he first came to live with the famous chocolatier, in his cavernous factory. Mr. Wonka had, by proxy, killed the man who sold Sebastian to him in order to make his fervent obsession come to life. As warped as the child’s situation had been the past few weeks, it had taken on an even stranger tone when the real Charlie Bucket returned to the chocolate factory. Shortly after that, he discovered that the handsome young man had developed strong feelings for his mentor from a rather young age. So, what had gone wrong? Why was there a need for a substitute?
“It’s your factory now. You can do as you please.” Rang out Mr. Wonka’s voice after a long pause.
“Invite whomever you want to dinner. Tell me or don’t tell me. I just thought tonight was special and we would be alone.” Sebastian thought that ‘bitchy’ would be the best way to describe his new Master’s voice right now.
Sebastian was scared out of his wits, but Charlie still had that ‘look’ on his face. Earlier that day, the famous heir to the chocolate empire had begged his “new baby brother”, as Willy Wonka had introduced the boy, to confess what had gone on between the child and the strange candyman. Sebastian had been literally whipped into submission and barely a word could escape his lips. Instead, he had showed Charlie some of what had been done by lifting his translucent nightshirt and exposing his back. There was no doubt who had done the damage. Charlie had gingerly traced the marks with his fingertips: each swollen pink stripe raised to a thin break in the pale skin, scabbed over red-brown marks highlighted the effect. The lashes overlapped and formed “W” shapes; they even ended in swirls at the ends. Who else could manage to twist a leather disciplinary device with such precision and artistry? Sebastian remembered the sensation of the Charlie’s tongue tracing one of the curlicues. It felt rather different than Mr. Wonka’s….
“You didn’t think I would leave my new baby brother all alone in my old house did you?” Charlie said in a natural-sounding surprised tone.
Wonka sighed heavily. Charlie made a point. He shifted his eyes to the little person next to his protégé.
“He likes it in there.” He said somewhat childishly and shrugged, flipping the sharp and elegant fork upwards.
“Hey Sebastian, aren’t you hungry? You haven’t touched a thing.” Charlie put an arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders. He finally dared to look towards Mr. Wonka’s eyes.
The boy still hadn’t touched his meal.
“Go ahead, little boy. Try it. I had extra brought out just for you.” At first Mr. Wonka’s falsely sweet voice sounded far away and his eyes did not meet the gaze of the orphan’s, rather they were focused on Charlie’s arm. Also, his tone and eyebrows had concentrated on the word ‘just’ in the sentence.
There had been a brief and sharp discussion when Charlie first arrived at Mr. Wonka’s door that evening with the uninvited guest. Although Sebastian could not make out what was being said while he stood in the hallway, he heard Mr. Wonka’s hiss the “s” sounds of his name repeatedly. After a succession of familiar and mysterious scurrying noises, he was given permission to enter by his new ‘big brother’.
Now, he had been given permission to eat. He knew his place. He thought he would adore a nice piece of steak, but not in this situation. In fact, now that he knew the fanciful and pallid recluse better, he seriously questioned exactly what kind of meat lay before him. His mind went back to his former Keeper, could that be what was prepared ‘just’ for him? He wouldn’t put it past Mr. Wonka, not for one minute. He took a scoop of his bright purple mashed potatoes instead. They tasted amazing and the white gravy was as creamy as chocolate.

Subtle as Mr. Wonka had attempted to be, Charlie had caught the implications in Mr. Wonka’s words and squinted his eyes at his mentor. It was gone before the chocolatier noticed. Charlie released his grasp on his new brother. Something had changed Sebastian could sense it. He looked between them both, fork tip still in his mouth.
“It’s not really my factory anyway. Not yet.” Said Charlie, looking away from Willy and absently taking a bite of his own dinner. Charlie sounded genuinely disgruntled.
“What are you talking about?” said Wonka sternly.
“You keep secrets from me.” Charlie replied.
Wonka was left speechless for a few seconds. Sebastian dared to dart his eyes at him again. The man really could look attractive when he was disarmed. His eyes shimmering all shades of blue and violet, his lips barely parted and concealing most of his teeth. With that expression and without the top hat, he almost looked human. Sebastian reflected on the nights when Mr. Wonka would stay in Charlie’s old bed with him even after they had struggled and grinded toward their sinful orgasm. Then his face could be like that, but the look was for the imaginary Charlie, not for himself. Did that bother him, he wondered? He couldn’t have grown found of the man could he? Who could? Well apparently one person could, but even he seemed miffed right now.
“Wha-What have I…kept from you?” Wonka managed to finish, his trademark plastic smile returning to his face and a sudden giggle interrupting his words. He even stroked over the left side of his perfect bob assuring it curved along his jaw smoothly. Sebastian marveled at his new Master’s nervousness, only Charlie Bucket seemed to have that effect on him. It was delight to see. In fact, Mr. Bucket had promised such a thing to him while they were still in the boy’s old make shift bedroom.
Charlie wiped his mouth with the linen napkin in his lap then placed it onto the table. He stood up. Charlie was a little over six feet tall, a few inches taller than his mentor. The effect would be even more noticeable if the chocolatier’s heels weren’t so high on his boots. Charlie walked to the other side of the table and removed a large ring of keys from his intricately patterned vest; the pattern matched his elegant bow tie. Sebastian’s eyes widened, they looked almost exactly like the keys that Wonka had used to open the tiny door to the chocolate room when he first arrived at the factory. He hadn’t seen them since.
Wonka pulled slightly away from Charlie, in a stiff motion, his mouth was down-turned and he his wide eyes shifted to the brass ring of keys. Wonka’s keys were silver.
“How many keys are there Willy?” Charlie said in a commanding voice.
He didn’t answer. The pale man just tilted back a tad further and looked up at Charlie. Suddenly Willy Wonka almost looked like the child; a child in a dark purple leather vest and a jacquard shirt that is. Wonka looked annoyed and nervous at the same time.
Charlie put his palm against the glossy polished table, and slowly leaned right next to his benefactor’s ear, “You’ve been holding out on me old man.” He whispered in a husky tone.
Wonka’s eyes accidentally met Sebastian’s; he was horrified to realize that the child was witnessing this exchange. Enough was enough. He swiveled his face upward to meet Charlie’s, a mere inch or so above his own. “I have done no such thing!” He protested, his voice an octave higher. He grinded his teeth and pounded his fist on the table.
“Then pull it out.” Charlie said smoothly, not moving a muscle.
Wonka actually blushed. Sebastian could hardly believe it! This was the same man who had made him wear a dress a few days before while making the boy suggestively consume a large, swirled lollypop. He was also thoroughly spanked across the man’s lap with the long, candy-filled cane while being called a name like ‘Veronica’ or something. There was something about the patterned tights in particular that Mr. Wonka seemed to like. He recalled the hard sensation that pressed into his belly. Then again, the man had been wearing a rather unique outfit himself that evening; it included thigh-high latex stockings connected to a very complex garter belt and corset. Charlie got a nosebleed when Sebastian managed to quietly confess those facts to him. There was far more, but he honestly didn’t think the phrase “pull it out” could ever phase the infamous candymaker.
“I beg your pardon?” Said Wonka to his heir, flabbergasted.
“Your KEYS, pull out your keys.” Charlie said sharply, reaching for them himself.
Mr. Wonka squawked. “Charlie!” But he did nothing to stop the man from groping at his waist and producing the equally large silver set of keys, attached to an equally long metal chain.
“There!” The golden-ticket winner pointed. “You have at least a dozen more keys on yours.”
“Tsk, THOSE are to my personal quarters, my dear boy. You don’t honestly expect me to give you those, do you?” Willy Wonka had stood up himself and was placing the ring back into his leather vest pocket.
Charlie’s eyes went up and down the man in a quick flicker. “You said I could have anything that I wanted when I returned.” His voice was very serious and accented his British accent quite pleasently.
“Pfft!” Wonka waved his latex-gloved hand dismissively, shutting his eyes tight.
“I want those keys, Willy. I want everything that you’ve been holding back.” The word everything was emphasized in his breathy statement.
Wonka’s amethyst eyes darted back to Charlie, then over to Sebastian. How much of these semantics was the child catching onto? His stare intensified as a thought dawned upon him. Then again, how much had the child TOLD his protégé in the first place? This behavior was not typical of his sweet Charlie Bucket. No, it most certainly was not. He would reserve a special bit of role-play for Sebastian tonight.
“Charlie,” said Mr. Wonka, not slightly foppishly, “this evening has not proven to be what I planned for. I had every intend of addressing such things, but you spoiled it.” He had placed the backside of one gloved hand to the side of his beloved protégé’s face. The young man’s slightly tanned skin looked even darker right next to Willy’s. His whole face and posture had softened at the rare touch of his benefactor. Sebastian could see the same desperate hunger in Charlie’s eyes that he had seen in Willy Wonka’s. It would seem more than knowledge about confections had been passed down.
“Please, let’s each get a good night’s sleep and address this in the morning. Your old mentor deserves that much, right?” Wonka removed his hand and turned away from Charlie, looking wounded. However, the word ‘old’ was stated with malcontent in his tone.
Charlie looked defeated. With a few simple gestures, Mr. Wonka had pulled the strings of Charlie’s heart. It was easy, after all he was the one who attached them in the first place. A smirk pulled at the corner of Wonka’s face opposite from his cherished protégé, head tilted down, he lifted his gaze to meet Sebastian’s once more…and shot the chestnut-haired boy a truly malicious look. Willy Wonka had regained his composure. The chocolatier’s expression immediately recalled the image of a poster from his old Keeper’s bedroom: a vintage movie advertisement for a film called, “A Clockwork Orange”. His heart sank for his Keeper had shown him the bizarre film about the mad sadomasochist many times.
Charlie sighed. “I’ll take Sebastian back to the Chocolate Room.”
“That’s OK, I’ll just keep the boy here for the night.” Wonka said in as sugary sweet a tone as he could manage, walked over to stand by the child’s side. Sebastian’s eyes were wide open, his mouth parted, he shot a look at the tall, handsome Charlie Bucket. Couldn’t he stay in his new big brother’s room instead?
Charlie spun his head around to look at Sebastian in the exact same second that the child had his desperate thought.
“You-You’re gonna let him stay HERE, in YOUR room? But, I never got to-*” Wonka cut Charlie off.
“Your room is just down the hall Charlie, no need to make you take the long trek in the Great Glass Elevator.” Then Wonka’s eyes glinted privately. He turned to face Charlie with his wounded look again, “Tonight, you made me realize that I should be more…open. So, why not let him stay here?” He lightly flipped his head from side to side, which made the edges of his haircut bounce to and fro. Charlie adored when that happened.
Willy Wonka was rather pleased with himself. He had choked the tall, young man with his own words. He loved being able to do things like that. Irony was almost as delicious as candy, he thought.
Mr. Wonka couldn’t physically hurt Charlie Bucket, no he could never do that, but teaching him lessons through mental efforts, that was different. In fact, Mr. Wonka had decided long ago that never giving into his lust would serve the duel purpose of sparing Charlie the sting of his affection, while spurning him to become a better inheritor of his life’s work. The chocolatier knew from personal experience that a wounded heart, a broken soul, was far more capable of obsession and dedication than an unblemished one.
Willy Wonka was one of the most observant people in the whole world; he was capable of immediately seeing things that hovered in front of the very noses of common folk for thousands of years. He didn’t know how to act like a regular person, but he knew how to observe them, analyze them, and dissect them. That was easy. Besides, who would want to act like those people who pathetically toiled outside of his immense factory anyway? Who would want to be deliberately inferior?
So, Wonka would’ve had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice his benefactor’s affection for him! Rather than using Charlie’s overdeveloped idol worship to his advantage, he had resisted the cruel temptation to mold the boy into a better chocolatier. The Bucket family had already deprived him of the opportunity to bond solely to the child; they nurtured their only son with sickeningly high amounts of affection - which the Bucket’s erroneously assumed would alter the chocolate maker himself. He didn’t despise them, but they definitely made things supremely difficult. Making fun of them to their face was one of the few amusements that he got out of the whole situation. The family always blamed it on his social awkwardness; they were only half right.
“We’re all hunky dory now, right?” Chirped Mr. Wonka. “You won’t cause me any problems, will you little boy?” He stroked Sebastian’s chin upwards towards his intense eyes. Eyes that always betrayed the words that escaped his mouth. Sebastian was out of the fire and into the frying pan. He politely shook his head in response to the question.
Charlie sort of hated Sebastian right now: he was definitely riddled with envy for the boy. How could Sebastian act like staying in Willy’s bedroom was torture? Charlie had ruined many a set of pajamas just thinking about such a possibility!
“Couldn’t I stay over too?” he asked. “We could have a sleep over or something, it would be fun.”
Wonka was amused at how young Charlie suddenly sounded. There were times when he barely recognized the striking, well-dressed youth before him. Tonight was one of those times. Who was that person? His sweet, innocent Charlie could never intimidate him like that. He closed his eyes for a second, considering how a real slumber party could have been if his family hadn’t watched the boy like hawks all the time. They were awfully suspicious of a man whom they welcomed into their family. Then again, it wasn’t like he could blame them for their paranoia.
“We need space, Charlie.” Wonka said, his voice sounding tired. He stroked the back of Sebastian’s silky hair. It was only soft like that when children were still young. He pretended the sensation was from a long time ago, in an alternate universe when slumber parties and late-night adventures could have been possible.
“All right.” Said the luckiest boy in the whole world, finder of the fifth golden ticket, and secret keeper of Mr. Wonka’s misshapen heart. “Good Night, Willy.” He knew when he was beaten and he had too many questions in his soul at the moment to continue. Besides, he would be just down the hall and the night was still young…
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Cravings