Archive of Our Own

The Debt

Hannibal scented it as soon as he unlocked his front door. Lingering and heavy – an omega in the hours before heat, a smell heavy with slick. A very specific omega. He let Raquel enter the house before him – she was beta, and didn’t detect the scent, instead speaking lyrically of the exhibition they’d just attended as she proceeded him down the hall, her Brazilian accent softened by her years in America. He’d promised her dessert, so she went immediately to the dining room, the scent only growing stronger as they went. Hannibal prowled after her in the darkened hall, attuned for any sound or suggestion that an ambush lay in store. All was quiet.

Raquel flicked on the light with easy familiarity as she entered the dining room, and halted mid-sentence in the doorway, reactively tightening her wrap around her shoulders. Will Graham sat at the head of the table, rigidly upright with both palms flat on the wood. His curls were shorter, and tamed neatly back from his forehead, asides from one stray curl that fell across his brow. Otherwise he wore a plaid flannel shirt and forest green trousers – it could have been three days since Hannibal had seen him last, instead of three years.

“Hannibal?” Raquel said, alarmed. She tended to drop the H from the start of his name, pronouncing it ‘Ahn-ee-bel’ like Mischa used to. It was the primary reason he sought out her company.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said smoothly, stepping around Raquel and slightly in front of her. Will didn’t appear armed, but one could never be too careful. If Will had decided to arrive in Hannibal’s home after three years on the verge of a heat, he was here for a very particular reason, and Hannibal wasn’t very interested in cleaning Raquel’s blood from the floorboards. Too many people knew of their habit of something sweet after an evening out.

“Hello Hannibal,” Will said calmly. It was, Hannibal realised with pleasure, the first time Will had called him by his Christian name to his face.

“Raquel dos Santos, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Will Graham. Will, this is Raquel – I’m afraid I didn’t make enough Crème Brûlée for three,” Hannibal said cordially.

“I’m sure you and your old friend have much to catch up on, so I am happy to cede my claim,” Raquel chimed in tactfully, one elegant hand touching Hannibal’s forearm. “Would you call the car for me, Hannibal?”

“Of course. Please excuse us, Will.”

Will stayed put as Hannibal led Raquel back to the front door, calling back the car that had brought them to his home from his cell phone - he wasn’t inebriated, but he’d allowed himself several glasses of champagne and preferred not to drive in such instances. It took only a few minutes for the car to return, and Hannibal handed Raquel into the backseat with a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I think your friend is not so happy to see me,” Raquel said in Portuguese before he closed the door. She gave him an amused twitch of her lips. “You must work very hard to make it up to him.”

“I intend to,” Hannibal replied in kind with a wink, and closed the car door. 

At the very least, Will had allowed a witness to arrive and depart without hesitation, so the result of tonight’s conversation was unlikely to be Hannibal’s murder. He took a deep breath, smiling down into his tuxedo for a moment, and returned inside. Will was exactly where he’d left him, and Hannibal bypassed the dining room to the kitchen. He took out the two serves of Crème Brûlée, quickly torched the sugar on top to a crisp caramelised cap and returned to the dining room. He set one in front of Will with a spoon, and chose the seat to his right, sitting neatly with his own plate.

“It’s been a long time, Will,” he said, using the edge of his spoon to crack the hardened sugar. “I had thought I might see you after you were released from hospital, but then Dr Chilton was apprehended and after all the drama of his shooting by that poor trainee, you were gone. Asides from your impending heat, you smell like the ocean and diesel oil and you’re very tan. I take it you returned to your father’s trade in the south?”

Will slowly picked up his spoon, cracked the sugar on top of his dessert, and scooped up a little, tasting it carefully. He rolled it in his mouth, letting all the flavours play across his palate before swallowing.

“You owe me a debt,” he said finally, and laid his spoon down, apparently done.

“Do I?” Hannibal asked. He stirred hardened sugar shards into the Crème but didn’t eat. He lifted his eyes to meet Will’s frozen stare, considering. “You have come to my home mere hours before a heat. You were a latent omega – you never presented as an adolescent, and when you did finally present it was under the duress of Jack’s bullet in your shoulder and your mind on fire from encephalitis. You spent your first heat in a medically induced coma. Tell me, have you been on suppressants all along? Is this the first heat you’ll be conscious for?”

Will inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Hannibal gave a thoughtful hum.

“Latent omegas presentation is usually dependant on a specific alpha – an imprinting process not unlike newly hatched ducklings. There were two of us in the room when Jack shot you and caused the cascade of adrenaline and shock that made you present. But Jack is not the one you imprinted on, is he?” Hannibal asked. On the wood of the table, Will’s hands clenched convulsively into fists.

“You took a child from me,” Will said finally, slowly uncurling his hands finger by finger. 

“Did you try to find another Alpha to mate with, to replace the child you lost?” Hannibal asked. He set his spoon down on his plate in favour of slowly working his bowtie loose.

“You know I can’t,” Will growled, frowning fiercely at Hannibal.

A curious phenomenon, latent omegas. Possessing all the biological markers and capability of an omega, they nevertheless didn’t present in adolescence, undergoing just enough hormone changes to transition to adulthood with none of the sexual impulses. They could go their whole lives without presenting, although they were not truly asexual as the possibility always remained – or they could present under catastrophic physical trauma, as Will had. Invariably, their presentation resulted in them imprinting on an Alpha, one who had to be present at the time of the rapid onset of their first heat. Anecdotally, the omega would be biologically tied to that Alpha for life, unable to feel sexual attraction to another, although the instances of latent omegas and subsequent imprinting were so rare the data was almost non-existent.

“So you have come here, to me,” Hannibal said. He pulled the untied bowtie from his collar with a whisper of sound, and then started work on the two buttons on his collar stand. 

“You owe me a child,” Will said. He clenched his jaw after he said it, and Hannibal wondered how powerful his parental longings had become in the last several years to drive him to this – to send him back to the only man who could give him a child naturally, a man he knew to be a cannibal and the Chesapeake Ripper. The success rate for IVF was incredibly low for undated omegas - thought to be because implantation of an embryo depended on complex hormone chains of an interactive alpha/omega pair - Hannibal wondered if he’d tried regardless.

“I believe you can intuit what my terms would be,” Hannibal said casually. He shot his cuffs to begin twisting his silver and onyx cufflinks out of their holes.

“A bond,” Will said flatly.

“Yes. I will claim you, and you will bond me in return, and you will live here as my mate and life partner,” Hannibal said, placing his cufflinks on the table one by one. “We can have as many children as you like. I understand that menopause doesn’t occur in latent omegas until much later in life due to the delay in initial ovulation, so we have the time. We could have a passel of children, Will, as many as you demand.”

Will stared at him silently for a long moment, jaw working as if he were chewing over Hannibal’s words. “You will never hurt them, or I will destroy you.”

“I would never hurt our children, Will,” Hannibal said gravely. He could see that Will was thinking of Abigail, of her supposed death that Hannibal had brought about, and the ear he had vomited into his own sink. The silence dragged on, and Hannibal calculated the risks – Will was here, despite everything he knew. He could wait until they were mated, or he could put Will’s fears to rest now and ensure a smoother transition to their new lives together.

He’d always planned for the surprise, though.

The silence ticked over between them, as Will studied Hannibal for the longest time. Finally he gave a sharp nod, and looked down at the table. Either his desire to be a parent overcame his disbelief, or he saw the truth in Hannibal’s words.

“Tomorrow, when my heat comes, we’ll bond. I’ll be your mate, and you’ll give me children. You won’t hurt them.”

“I will be a doting father in every way. But I have one more stipulation,” Hannibal said, and Will looked up at him sharply. “Our first instance of sexual intercourse will be tonight, before your heat arrives. You’ll take me for the first time in full control of your faculties, not heat-desperate and hormone-driven.”

Will narrowed his eyes at him and let out a slow, steadying breath. “Fuck it. Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

*

Will made his way upstairs in the darkness of Hannibal’s house as if he were in a dream, reality having shifted like sand under his feet. This was the second time he’d been upstairs tonight – the first while Hannibal was still out, and he’d searched the house for weapons. While he’d found a variety of scalpels and knives hidden between folded linens and taped to the underside of side tables, there were no guns in the house that he could find. He also hadn’t been able to find the entrance to the basement he was sure existed, having discovered some misfiled plans of the house from its original construction, but that wasn’t important right now. He would be living here soon, no doubt he’d find Hannibal’s kill room with time.

Behind him Hannibal was utterly silent, but Will was sure he was there, following close behind. He felt strangely like he was going to his own execution, although a strange exhilaration too, as though this moment had been on hold all this time and now he’d returned his life could resume. What if he had stayed, three years ago? Baited a trap for Hannibal with himself as the lure as he’d originally considered? Would he have had a child or too already? Happy with fat little babies and Hannibal in prison?

The last three years, in his grief and anger, he’d first not noticed the tiny bud of longing growing within himself – the want for a child of his own. By the time he had noticed it, realised what the clench of his heart meant every time he saw a family with children together, it had already pierced him with strong roots and grown around his core like a vine.

But he felt nothing but apathy and mild revulsion at the thought of submitting himself to some strange alpha. And he simply didn’t have the money to waste on the years it might take for one successful round of assisted impregnation.

Nature had, in all her cruel irony, destined him to perceive only one alpha as strong enough, clever enough and crafty enough to be the sire of his young. He didn’t feel apathy about Hannibal Lecter – but then he never had, not even before he presented, or even after in the BHCI when he’d realised exactly who and what Hannibal was. On long lonely nights in his Florida shack on the beach he’d lain in bed and closed his eyes and there had been Hannibal, looming over him in the dark, teeth gleaming and ready to bite, to claim . He’d refused to do anything so base in the hospital when Chilton was recording him, but on the run to a new life he’d given himself his first solitary orgasms picturing the breadth of Hannibal’s shoulders, the elegant turn of his hand.

Over three years the yearning for a child had become desperate, consuming, and he knew in the foundations of his being what that meant. It meant returning to Hannibal, the man who had murdered their surrogate child, the serial killer who butchered his victims and consumed them. Hannibal who had lied to Will, drugged him, let his mind burn and manoeuvred him into multiple criminal indictments.

Hannibal, who had been his closest friend and betrayed him. Which was the part that stung most of all.

“The door on your left,” Hannibal said softly behind him, as Will reached the upstairs landing, which of course he already knew. 

He pushed into the bedroom and crossed to stand beside the bed in the dark, pausing silently for a moment to feel the racing of his pulse and the fever descending upon him. Yes he was only a few hours away from his heat, and already felt slick and heavy with want, but he was still not at the point of need and desperation he’d hoped to be in the first time he went to bed with Hannibal. Which was the point , of course. Hannibal didn’t want his surrender with the terms of helpless biological impulse.

He wouldn’t let Hannibal pretend this was anything other than it was, so he started to undress efficiently. Ne seduction scene here.

Hannibal went to the fireplace where kindling was already laid in and set to lighting it. He didn’t turn to watch Will as he kicked off his boots and toed off his socks, instead feeding the fire and settling heavier logs to catch over the growing flames.

“I believe you are close enough to your heat that you may even conceive tonight,” Hannibal said lightly. “More likely if I take you repeatedly, of course.”

Will closed his eyes. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“I want to fuck you while you still have clarity and control, Will. Your first time should be special, after all.”

Shucking off his pants and underwear, Will climbed onto the bed on all fours, settling himself down on his forearms so his ass was up, and his wrists wouldn’t take all the pressure. Presenting like a good little omega for his alpha. He heard Hannibal move around the room behind him, a whisper of fabric, and inhaled deliberately to catch the enticing aroma of honey and ginger, Hannibal’s natural scent. He felt a little slick work its way down his thigh – at least this was unlikely to hurt, even if he wouldn’t be as swollen and loose as he’d be during his heat.

Unable to help himself, he craned his head around to look at Hannibal behind him, who had just shed his trousers and was now naked. He stared.

“That’s not going to fucking fit,” he said in flat disbelief.

Hannibal smirked, and fisted his ridiculous, porn-sized cock, already hard and growing harder. Will didn’t even know how he walked around with that monster between his legs – did he strap it down in his underwear, so it didn’t enter a room three minutes before he did? It had a fat mushroom-shaped head almost the size of a fist, and seemed about as long as Will’s forearm, getting exponentially thicker towards the base, where the skin hung heavy and loose to make room for what promised to be an impossible knot. 

“I assure you it will,” Hannibal said calmly, coming forward to climb up onto the bed behind Will, one hand landing possessively on his hip. Will swung his head back around to stare forward, trying not to hyperventilate but feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. “It will help if I loosen you up first. Just relax, Will, and I will take care of you.”

Then there were hands spreading his ass cheeks, and two fingers pushing insistently against his hole, and Will gave a little yelp as they pressed inside. It didn’t hurt – he was wet enough and horny enough from his pre-heat he could take them easily – but two fingers did not equal the baseball bat Hannibal was proposing to fuck him with.

Christ. He had to take it if he wanted to get pregnant. That was the whole reason he was here.

Hannibal sawed his two fingers in and out of Will’s ass efficiently, poking at his prostate every so often so he couldn’t help the little huffs of sound he made. He let his head drop down, focusing on the feeling of his ass being gradually stretched – Hannibal added another finger and he gave a low groan, rolling his hips back into it, feeling himself getting wetter and more open. Not the kind of open that could accommodate a cock thicker than a Coke can just yet, but open.

“Unh,” Will grunted as Hannibal rubbed down hard on his prostate, unable to help the reflexive jerk of his hips. “You don’t have to do this. It’s just a fuck, I don’t have to like it. Just stick it in.”

“But I want you to enjoy this Will. We have our whole long lives of sex and intimacy before us, why start off on the wrong foot?” Hannibal purred, and started to work his pinkie finger into Will’s ass alongside his other folded fingers.

“We’re just – ah! – we’re just fucking to conceive Hannibal, sex isn’t required beyond that,” Will gritted out. His hips were rolling rhythmically now, working himself back on Hannibal’s hand without his conscious intention to. Little spark of electricity flashed up his spine every time those fingers glanced over his sweet spot. His own cock was hanging hard and heavy between his legs now.

“We agreed you will be my mate and life partner,” Hannibal countered cheerfully. “I expect sex will be a daily part of our lives. I will not be ‘stepping out’ on you, Will.”

He withdrew his fingers abruptly, and Will had to cut off a whine, mortified. Hannibal gripped his hip firmly with one hand, and something hard and big started nudging at his wet hole, pressing forward. Will squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of the few little plugs he’d kept at his home in Florida – their nicely tapered points that he could ease into his ass gently and work into himself bit by bit until they reached the thickest flare near the base. In comparison, this was like a doorknob trying to shove into him.

“Oh Jesus ,” he hissed as Hannibal really began to push – his hole starting to stretch and give under the pressure. “Uh, fuck uh uh!”

“Relax Will,” Hannibal murmured soothingly, but held him in place with the hand gripping his hip when Will tried to lurch away. 

Will felt when the ring of muscle started to give, felt the burning stretch of his ass as the head of Hannibal’s cock started to shove inside him, and gave a desperate, high-pitched whine. He tried to bear down on it, to make it easier for his body to take it, but Hannibal was so fucking big and he was pretty sure even omegan physiology wasn’t designed to take a cock like this. He made a gurgled, strained groan as the head started to breach the second ring of muscle, feeling like the sleeve of a sweater as a watermelon was pushed through it, scrabbling at the blankets and trying to hold on for dear life.

“Han- Hannibal I can’t !” he gasped out, and then it was in, the head was in him, and his hole was stretched wide and tight around the thickness of Hannibal’s cock and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, felt like he was completely full up even though there was probably still another eight or nine inches to take.

“You’re doing beautifully darling,” Hannibal murmured, gripping his other hip with his now free hand, and Will panted into the bed, whole body trembling finely as Hannibal began to draw him back by the hips, impaling him slowly on his monster cock.

“Oh god, oh god , it’s too much, I can’t—I just can’t, you’re too big!” he gasped, trying to pull away, to escape, but Hannibal wouldn’t let him go. Will let out a couple of useless sobs – he felt like the cock sliding inside of him was filling up his entire body, like he was an overstuffed toy that Hannibal was trying to ram yet more into, and his cock was aching between his legs, dripping precome steadily down onto the bed.

“You look perfect like this Will, like you were made for me,” Hannibal said breathlessly, and gave a low rumble of pleasure, pulling Will back even further onto him, splitting him open.

“How much more? How much left to put in?” Will sobbed, because it had to be almost all the way in now – there was a minute pause from Hannibal.

“Nearly halfway there darling,” Hannibal said, and Will opened his mouth with a silent scream into the blankets.

“Okay. Just, fuck. Fuck , just put it in. All the way in, fast. Just get it over with,” he wheezed, bracing himself on the bed as much as he was able.

For a moment he thought Hannibal wouldn’t comply, that he would persist with the mind-bendingly slow encroachment into Will’s body until it drove him insane – but then he inhaled sharply, and thrust his hips forward in one smooth snap.

Will screamed . He screamed, and his vision whited out, and he came so hard and fast it felt like his orgasm had been pulled out of his body with a wire hook. He slumped to the bed, sobbing breathlessly, shaking all over, with only Hannibal’s hands and Hannibal’s cock holding his ass in the air. He was almost certain he could feel Hannibal’s cock distending his abdomen, that his hole was as stretched as it could go without actually cracking him open entirely. 

Then Hannibal began to pull out, his cock sliding against his hole, making every nerve ending buzz, and it wasn’t until the thickness of the head of his cock was tugging on his rim, stretching him open, that Will realised what Hannibal intended.

“No don’t, don’t,” he groaned, but it was too late, Hannibal pulled out entirely, leaving Will feeling like his ass was gaping and clutching with emptiness. And then that impossibly thick cockhead was back, pushing at his hole, forcing it open. Will groaned high pitched into the mattress as Hannibal forced him to take it again, the whole length, the head pushing in slow and inexorable and yet another slow, slow push of that unbearable length into his twitching hole.

“You look more beautiful than I could have imagined,” Hannibal murmured breathlessly, pushing and pushing and pushing until he’d finally seated his endless dick in Will entirely. Jesus he felt like a condom, like he was a thin layer stretched tight over Hannibal’s cock. Just taking his come would make him hang heavy and wet like a water balloon. Will groaned again because unfortunately the idea was kind of doing it for him.

“Don’t - don’t pull all the way out again. I’ll die,” Will gasped, rolling his face out of the blanket to try and look back at Hannibal, who was all gleaming golden skin poised over him. “Just… just fuck me. Do it quick. Knot me.”

“Bossy,” Hannibal said with a barbaric quirk of his lips, and did just that.

Will was aware he was wailing incomprehensibly, face wet with the drool and spit he was spreading all over the blankets under his face but god - Hannibal was railing him, like he’d only ever seen guiltily watching the really extreme alpha/omega porn that last year or so. Dragging Will by the hips backwards and forwards on his giant cock more so than actually fucking him, snapping his hips into him at the last moment, and it felt like every movement raked across his prostate and made his balls throb, drawn up tight.

Will came at least twice in the middle, when Hannibal showed no signs of flagging - under his own ragged cries and wet huffing breath Will could hear how obscenely wet it was, could feel the copious slick wetting his thighs as Hannibal fucked him like a machine (also watched a fair bit of that kind of porn), could hear the wet slap every time Hannibal’s hips and thighs met his ass.

It seemed to go on and on, and at one point Will realised only one hand was on his hip and managed to look back to see Hannibal was holding his phone pointed at Will’s ass, mouth open and wet and eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

“What the fuck?” Will gasped, and Hannibal didn’t even slow down, just flicked his eyes up to his with a warm smile.

“I’m going to film your first time darling,” he said in a low voice, and Will decided what the fuck ever, Hannibal could do what he wanted. Share it on the internet. Send it to Jack. He couldn’t think beyond the dick in his ass.

But slowly, he started to feel that extra pressure on every thrust as he sobbed into the blankets - Hannibal’s knot was thickening, an extra stretch pushing in and out of his hole, far too big to keep moving in and out easily for long.

“For fuck’s sake just do it,” Will begged, and heard a huff of amusement from Hannibal, and his thrust got shorted and even harder, bearing down on Will, pushing him into the mattress. There was a thump as the phone landed on the bed beside him, discarded, and then Hannibal was leaning over Will, bracing his now-free hand next to his shoulder.

Suddenly he was pushing in and the knot felt so much bigger than before, and Will howled as it stretched and stretched him, until it shoved inside at last and Hannibal gave a sudden, throbbing groan, gripping his hip tight and pulling him in, teeth sinking in sharp and hot at the nape of his neck. The knot inside him got bigger, swelling up and pulsing as Hannibal came, so big it made it feel like Will’s brain was trying to escape out his ear and he could only pant and cry frantically, trapped by the teeth in his neck and the knot feeling him to the point of panic and he came again, a white hot sheet of sensation that cascaded over his mind and body and made him jerk helplessly in his mate’s grip, totally overwhelmed.

*

When he came back to himself, it was in stages. He was on his side, Hannibal pressed up against his back with his knot feeling like a hot stone lodged in Will’s ass. His hands and legs and arms and everything were trembling and tingling. Hannibal had his arms wrapped securely around his chest, holding him in with a tight squeeze that he appreciated, or he might just depart his body entirely. Hannibal was licking at the bite mark on the back of his next, and giving a low, rumbling purr of appreciation.

Jesus. A bite on the back of the neck. He may as well be barefoot and raising babies for his mate in tribal times. Of course Hannibal gave him a bit there - it signified total ownership. Absolute inequality. 

“You bastard,” he whispered, and the rumbling purr stopped.

“In my defence, I didn’t intend to claim you until your actual heat tomorrow, and I intended for a reciprocal throat bite. I was overcome in the moment,” Hannibal said, and he did actually sound apologetic. “I’ll give you a bite on your throat when you are in heat. With the way a shirt collar sits or even your hair, nobody will see the bite on your nape.”

It was better, Will decided, slightly mollified. If he had no second bite he’d have to bare the back of his neck in order to show a mating scar. And society had come a long way, but if he intended to walk around in public as a pregnant man then he’d better have a visible mating bite. One on his throat would scar just as well and wouldn’t involve wearing collarless clothing for people to see.

He shifted, the tingling in his legs telling him he’d been holding still for a while, then winced at the tug on his ass. Hannibal gave a low answering hum, readjusting his grip on Will’s body, smoothing his hands over his skin possessively. It was interesting to practically feel how satisfied and proprietary Hannibal was - he’d been so opaque during their previous time knowing one another.

“Conception could be occurring as we lie here,” Hannibal murmured into his hair, and one large hand slid down to spread over Will’s lower abdomen. “Even without yet being in full heat, your scent would have triggered biological responses in me - my sperm becoming more active. I would have ejaculated in a way that my semen pooled against your softened cervix.”

Will wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. I forgot you’re an actual medical doctor and your pillow talk would be atrocious.”

Hannibal made a little sound of amusement but that didn’t stop him. “I can feel a rut coming on, out of schedule. My sperm production will significantly increase over the next few days of your heat. I may be able to ejaculate multiple times per knot. It’s extremely likely you’ll fall pregnant in the next day or two, if it’s not occurring as we speak.”

He fell silent again, going back to dragging his tongue across the stinging, aching bite mark on Will’s neck, and Will stared sightlessly ahead. After all this time it was going to happen - it meant he was lying here still impaled on the knot of the literal devil, but he was going to have a child. Could, in fact, have fertilisation occurring right now, if any egg had descended far enough. Hannibal had bitten him and he would bite Hannibal, and all those stupid omega imprinting hormones would be satisfied and encourage an embryo to embed. He’d finally have a child.

And after the first, maybe after the second, he could send Hannibal to prison and be free.

*

Hannibal waited in the morning until Will’s scent went through a minor but final change - the true onset of heat - and then left him sleeping in the bed to go downstairs and prepare breakfast. As he was plating one large omelette - aged goat’s cheese, red peppers and Spanish onion - Will stumbled down the back staircase, wrapped in the cotton robe Hannibal had laid out. He blinked blearily at Hannibal, eyes hazy and radiating heat scent.

“You’re going to need to eat, even if you don’t much feel like it,” Hannibal said, and neatly stepped around Will, inhaling deeply as he went, and went on to the dining room.

When Will followed a moment, he stood staring at the table Hannibal had laid for a long moment. Hannibal had removed all the other place settings and chars, and their was only one setting at the head of the table where he now sat. Ice water and choose was beside the single plate. His chair was pushed well back, and as Will watched him with dark eyes, he opened his own robe, letting it fall either side of his hips, to show his erect cock. He stroked it slowly as Will watched, and his nostrils flared as he drew in the spicy chilly and chocolate scent of Will’s heat, a bead of moisture welling at the tip.

“Come and sit,” he said, and understanding rolled over Will as a slow, bewildered wave.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re a pervert, I should have known,” Will muttered, but his eyes kept dropping to Hannibal’s lap and he licked his lips thoughtlessly. He yanked at the belt of his robe and shrugged out of it entirely, a flush running from his throat, down his chest to his own erection, curving up to his belly.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Hannibal said lightly.

Will came around the dining table to spend a moment glaring at Hannibal, then awkwardly shuffled into place between Hannibal’s knees and the edge of the dining table. He cast a scowling look over his shoulder at Hannibal, who smiled sunnily up at him, then gripped the table edge and spread his feet apart. Hannibal obligingly slid his chair forward, between Will’s spread legs.

It was almost surprisingly easy after that - Hannibal gripped one of Will’s hips, using his thumb to part his round cheeks and reveal his swollen, wet anus, and Will let himself be guided back into place. Will moaned as Hannibal pressed the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscle, and very determinedly pushed down on it - his hole spreading obscenely, and he was tight, and incredibly wet, squeezing around Hannibal’s cock as he sank slowly down. Will’s thighs began to tremble, and his sudden inhale was the only warning before he let himself drop, taking Hannibal’s entire length hard and sudden. Hannibal found himself gripping Will’s hips, teeth set against the bite on the nape of his neck from the night before, breathing hard.

“Do warn me next time,” he murmured, and Will gave an indignant little growl.

“You could have warned me you have a dick like iron rebar,” he said nonsensically, and shifted, settling himself more carefully onto Hannibal’s lap - he threaded an arm around Will’s waist to stabilise him and was pleased when Will curved into his embrace.

“Eat up,” Hannibal instructed. Giving a shuddering sigh, Will picked up the fork and stabbed at the omelette. He managed to eat a few bites before a choked off whine escaped him and he shifted on Hannibal’s lap, squeezing down on his cock. Hannibal smiled against the skin of his back. “Problem?”

“I have your cock inside me and I’m in heat but nothing is happening and everything in my brain is screaming for something to happen,” Will said, shifting again and giving a little moan.

“You have my full support in whatever you would like to happen,” Hannibal said mildly. “You just also need to eat.”

Will cast a suspicious, studying look over his shoulder, as if scrutinising Hannibal’s intentions. Then he turned back to the plate and shoveled a few loaded forkfuls into his mouth before shoving it away - half eaten, Hannibal decided that would be enough until he could feed Will again later. He let that feeling well up in him, let himself taste its nuance - this was his mate, he wanted to care for his mate.

Will braced his palms on the table and let himself rock on Hannibal’s lap, grinding down on his cock in a way that had Hannibal’s breath hitching and his hands dropping to Will’s waist - not to control the movement, just to hold on. Will gave a couple of pleased noises, twisting his hips and try new angles, and finally hits a spot that makes him groan, a shiver running up his spine. Hannibal dipped his nose forward, to inhale the sweet scent of Will’s heat and arousal in the sweat on his spine, the sharp notes of pleasure that were like pomegranate seeds on his tongue. 

He didn’t guide or direct, let Will find his rhythm and his pleasure, working himself into short, sharp little thrusts on Hannibal’s cock that seemed to stretch and stimulate him how he wanted, so his head dropped forward and he panted and moaned as he took what he wanted. The previous night Hannibal had inflicted pleasure on Will entirely without his input - now he found it fascinating to watch Will find his own satisfaction; a hand fell from the table to his lap, gripping his cock dry and tight and jerking himself until he came with a groan, pulsing down hard on Hannibal before slumping forward. He lay his head to the side, cheek flat on the table, and Hannibal could see the fan of his lashes blinking slowly, his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“Suppose… suppose you want to knot,” he murmured after a while, and Hannibal stroked his hand down the long line of Will’s spine so he shivered in sensation.

“Impregnation requires it. But I’m patient Will. Your sexuality is new and this is your first heat fully mentis compos,” he said simply.

“Thanks to you,” Will said dryly. “The first one I was drugged out of my gourd because of both the encephalitis and being shot. Thanks to you .”

“How fitting this much happier occasion should be thanks to me also,” Hannibal said, and Will snorted a laugh that turned into a moan as he made himself shudder down onto Hannibal’s cock.

“How did you… fucking fit this thing inside anyone ,” he huffed, dragging his spine up one vertebrae to sit up straight again, grinding down for good measure. He looked over his shoulder at Hannibal, surprisingly wry, as though they were just old friends sharing a joke. “Surely most people say no thanks to being penetrated by anaconda if they don’t need to get pregnant.”

“Last night was a first for me also - the first instance of knotting a partner,” Hannibal said, lips twitching into fondness. “I’m glad it was you.”

Will huffed, and turned back to grip the table and work himself into another orgasm.

Later, mostly spent and dazed by pleasure, Will let himself be laid on his back on the table and Hannibal folded his knees up to his chest and knotted him that way, Will crying out with pleasure from yet another orgasm as Hannibal buried himself inside him. They stayed there until Hannibal’s knees ached - he did ejaculate again, grinding the fullness of his knot into Will’s body, and at that moment bit Will’s throat, respectably high. Lifting his bloody mouth, he didn’t have to prompt at all - Will turned his head and sank his teeth into his neck, sealing the bond.

*

When Will woke up a few days later, he felt like he was kind of hungover - just a little, not too bad, thirsty and achy but nothing a really greasy breakfast and about five cups of coffee wouldn’t knock the head off of. He stretched in the bed, screwing up his face in disgust at the vaguely crunchy feeling of the sheets - he knew Hannibal had tried to change them a couple of times but it wasn’t much against the constant tide of bodily fluids. 

Beside him, Hannibal was planted face down in the pillow, broad back raked red and raw with  scratches. Well that was embarrassing. Will wasn’t entirely surprised Hannibal was asleep. Throughout their shared rut and heat Will had been able to doze off, frequently while still knotted and definitely when they were parted. But Hannibal had stepped into the role of heat partner with aplomb, trying to tidy or bathe them, organise finger plates of food for them to graze on, keep Will fed with water and electrolytes. If you ignored the part where he was a cannibalistic serial killer, he’d been positively gentlemanly.

Will managed to scrape himself out of bed and padded gingerly into the bathroom, running the water in the claw-footed tub and sitting in it before it had finished filling. He threw in some bath salts he found in a cabinet too, feeling the various aches starting to soothe. When Hannibal came in, thankfully wearing a robe, Will just watched him silently, not entirely sure how to proceed. Hannibal scented the air, nodding in satisfaction - Will was out of heat - and filling a water glass from the pitcher on the counter to pass to Will. He drank slowly.

Hannibal showered, easily casting aside the robe and standing under the spray, scrubbing his hair and body clean while Will stared at his muscular ass and back. This was his mate. He and Hannibal were mated. Even if he found the kill room and got Hannibal off to prison after he was sure of a pregnancy, he and Hannibal would always be joined. 

“How long should I wait before a test?” He asked when Hannibal stepped out of the shower and started towelling off. 

For all that they’d spent the last three or so days fucking like rabbits, it was weird to see Hannibal so casually naked. He had only ever known Hannibal in his fussy suits and ties before this. Seeing Hannibal step out of the shower, dripping water, his hair slicked back on his skull - he looked much more powerful than Will had ever registered before. Was that the point? The Paisley and check were hiding that he was purely a predator?

“An over the counter test should be able to detect rising levels of HCG within fourteen days,” Hannibal said, watching him right back. “I, however, will be able to scent it within three to four. Perhaps sooner, if an embryo implanted sooner rather than later in your heat cycle.”

He came to the side of the tub, crouching next to Will, and cupped his jaw with one large hand. His eyes dropped to Will’s mouth - for all the frantic sex, they hadn’t kissed. Will turned his head, making it clear Hannibal didn’t have any invite for a kiss, and Hannibal gave a small sigh and leaned in to brush a gentle kiss to his cheekbone.

“I have some stuff. At a motel. Wolf’s Trap is still rented out,” he said stiffly. Hannibal stroked his wet hair away from his temple. Will gave him a sidelong look. “I have my dog, Winston, in a kennel. He’s coming here.”

“I was expecting more than one, so I will be happy to welcome Winston into our home,” Hannibal said with a lip-twitch smile. “I want you to be happy here, Will. When the time comes, we may choose a home together that’s more suitable for our children. But until then, I want you to do whatever you need to be comfortable here.”

“Chintz curtains. Lots of frilly cushions,” Will shot back, and that made Hannibal give a real smile, one that flashed his sharp canines.

“I’ll go make breakfast.”

It was only half an hour later, sitting scrubbed and dressed at the dining table (in his own seat, thank you), that Will thought through ‘breakfast’. He looked down at the plate of poached eggs, smoked salmon, spinach and hollandaise on toasted muffins gratefully. You couldn’t fake smoked salmon. Could you? He gave Hannibal a hard stare, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows knowingly. Will huffed, and picked up his knife and fork to eat.

*

That night the meal was some sort of complex trout concoction - very, very obvious whole trout. Will gave Hannibal another hard stare. Who gave him a perfectly innocent look in return. At their feet, Winston thumped his tail on the floor, hopeful. Hannibal gave the dog a slightly pained look - Will had totally refused to remove the dog from the dining room for dinner, although Winston would have politely stayed in the hall if instructed.

“This is delicious,” Will said belligerently as they ate, and Hannibal made a wordy toast to their union, looking smug.

That night, Will took Winston out, settled him in the parlour on his dog bed, and walked into the bedroom to find Hannibal sitting up in bed in the lamplight, bare chested, tapping at his tablet. He looked up as Will came in, idly watching him undress and hesitate when he got down to his boxers. Hannibal set the tablet aside and held out a hand. Hannibal probably wanted to take his hand and draw him in and have some sort of special lovemaking post heat.

Will shucked his boxers, circled the bed, climbed in the other side and shuffled around to present on all fours, forearms braced on the mattress and legs spread to reveal his hole. Hannibal sighed, but his hand still landed on Will’s ass, stroking gently, and a thumb worked its way to rub over his hole.

“It could be intimate and meaningful between us, Will. We have a lifetime together,” he said, and pressed a kiss to one cheek. 

Then he spread them, and licked over Will’s hole, making him shudder and give a low whine. Hannibal had done this to him during his heat, driving him near mindless with pleasure, but it felt different now - when he’d presented himself for a perfunctory fuck and Hannibal chose instead to slowly and carefully arouse him. He lapped at the leaking slick, sucked on the furled muscle, pushed his tongue in and fucked Will with it until he was rocking back onto Hannibal’s mouth, groaning and cursing, begging Hannibal to take him.

Without the heat, taking Hannibal’s ridiculously large cock made him feel he was being stretched out with the jaws of life, and Hannibal fucked him slow and deep, curled over his back so they were skin to skin, moaning into his neck and licking at the bite mark on his nape that throbbed with every thrust. When Hannibal finally knotted, making Will wail and come on his cock, he tipped them both gently to the side and dragged the covers up over them, kissing the side of Will’s throat, the line of his jaw, wherever he could reach. Despite Will’s best efforts, it did feel intimate.

He had to keep his head, he thought sleepily, held close in his mate’s arms, pressed back to chest, warm and secure and knotted hard in a way that made some horrible omega instincts want to purr in satisfaction. He couldn’t let himself forget who Hannibal was. Couldn’t get drawn into this particular trap all over again.

*

Jack, unsurprisingly, called him two days later - Hannibal was at work, Will was in the middle of setting up a desk for lures in the little room on the third floor Hannibal had given him for a study - he had to make a good show of settling in. Hell, after Hannibal was imprisoned he would have every right to Hannibal’s assets and would probably need them as a single parent. He may as well set up shop like he was going to stay.

“A little birdie told me you were spotted at Hannibal Lecter’s house,” Jack said gruffly when Will answered. Nine times out of ten he hadn’t answered Jack’s number over the last few years, but a few times he’d allowed himself to be drawn in long enough to be emailed a case file. He’d review it and send back his thoughts but that was as far as he let it go. Until now.

“Freddie Lounds always did sing so sweet,” Will said flatly, and tilted his mounted magnifying glass. “I’m back in town. Unemployed, if you happened to wondering.”

He texted Hannibal where he would be, and was at Quantico within a few hours later, settling into the chair opposite Jack with an otherworldly feeling of déjà vu. Really, it was too warm for a scarf, but he waited until Jack’s eyes were on him before unwinding the one he wore and letting it fall to his lap. Jack’s eyes dropped to the mating bite on his throat, and his face spasmed in momentary horror.

“Jesus. You didn’t,” he snapped.

“I get pretty much one shot at parenthood Jack, and that means bearding the lion in his den,” he said, and Jack struggled to contain his look of revulsion.

“You believe Hannibal to be the Chesapeake Ripper, a cannibal, and let him put that bite on your neck,” Jack said slowly, thunderously. “Among other things.”

“I told him he owed me a child. How desperately I want one,” Will said, and gave a casual shrug. “And now he’s moved me into his home and given me the key. Full access to his life.”

Jack sat back, his expression going speculative. “So what, you intend to expose him before its time for your heat? You sure you can pull that off before you’re due? He’ll know if you take suppressants.”

“This bite isn’t a pledge bite, Jack. Hannibal bit me during my heat last week. Hopefully, I’m already pregnant.”

A flash of revulsion passed over Jack again, but it was followed by something akin to respect. Jack always did believe the ends justified the means - you did anything and everything to close the case. He might find it personally appalling that Will would allow Hannibal to mate and impregnate him in order to catch him, but on a professional level he no doubt understood and approved of it. Will was doing whatever was necessary.

“Full access?” Jack asked thoughtfully.

“I’m in his house, I’m in his bed. But most importantly, I’m in his head,” Will said. “But as     I said - unemployed right now.”

“You know your job here’s always been waiting. Welcome back onboard,” Jack said simply. “Mazel  too. What’s your plan now?”

*

Hannibal listened to Goldberg Variations to soothe his concern, and cooked for the same reason. By the time he heard Will come in the front door close to seven - and how pleasurable to hear his mate use his own key in the front door - he was stirring a jus on the stove top, the counters clean now the majority of the meal was done, tilting his head to follow the melody from the stereo.

“Hi honey I’m home!” Will called obnoxiously as he came in, and bent immediately to lavish Winston with attention, whom Hannibal would deny to his dying breath he’d been feeding scraps as he cooked.

“I fed him, I used the container you put in the fridge. If you tell me your recipe I can incorporate it into my weekly kitchen preparations,” he said mildly, and turned to face Will. Who was staring at him oddly. “Something wrong?”

“No, I mean. I’ve just never seen you…” Will gestured at Hannibal, who was down to a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, collar open at the throat and a white apron tied around his waist. He’d decided to discard the fussy facade around Will but wasn’t sure if Will would even notice. 

“Seen me…” Hannibal prompted, looking down at himself and then back at Will. Will’s gaze was meandering down his body, and he flushed as he raised his gaze again.

“So casual, even in the kitchen,” he croaked. Hannibal smirked at him.

“Do you like it, darling?”

“Shut up,” Will said, flushing harder, and turned back to the dog.

Will didn’t seem to register what the meal was right up until they were sitting down to eat. For the last several days since Will’s arrival, Hannibal had deliberately fed him very identifiable food - fish, a tofu stirfry, a rack of lamb. Now, as they sat, Hannibal placed a plate with a simple cut of meat and elegantly poured the the jus over the top. He sat at the head of the table, cutting into his own meal, and Will stared down at the totally unidentifiable meat for a long moment. Then he looked up at Hannibal, wide eyed but trying to look neutral.

“How’s Jack?” Hannibal asked and raised a fork with a sliver of meat to bite it off and chew slowly, deliberately. 

Will watched him eat - looked at Hannibal’s meal, then back at his own.

“What… what have you made today?” he asked faintly, no doubt expecting a hint from Hannibal’s usual detailed explanation of a meal.

“Loin,” Hannibal said. Will looked back at him, and Hannibal smiled. “How’s Jack?”

Will picked up his knife and fork, holding Hannibal’s gaze. “He’s good. Offered me a job. I accepted.”

They both watched him cut his meat, spear a piece on his fork, and raise it. Will locked eyes with him again, and bit the piece of loin off the fork, chewing slowly. Will waited until he’d swallowed before speaking again. “This is excellent, as usual. What was his name?”

“Richard,” Hannibal said, cutting another piece and holding it to his lips. “The pig’s name was Richard.”

That night he pulled Will on top of him to ride him, and Will cried out over and over again as he did, hands braced on Hannibal’s chest, head tipped back, brightly pale in the light from the fireplace and wildeyed. Hannibal had never seen anything more beautiful.

*

They were sitting at breakfast - Will was eating the probably-not-pork bacon and finding it delicious in spite of himself - when the front door opened. Will lifted his head in alarm, looking to Hannibal to see him turning in the direction of the sound, and then a female voice called out.

“Hello? Hannibal? Are you home?”

He knew that voice. Will dropped his fork, heart pounding in his chest, and swivelled his head to look at Hannibal. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his blood was rushing in his ears and drowning out all other sound. Hannibal was watching him, face smooth and calm, but he had a gleam of something in his eye that made Will’s breath catch. From the front hall, he heard the sound of a heavy something thudding to the floor, a jangle of keys and the slam of the door closing.

“Hannibal?” The voice called again, clear and questioning and Will knew that voice .

He rose slowly from his seat, turning to face the doorway on legs that felt numb, and when she came in her hair was a short caramel bob around her face, and her face was leaner ( older ) and her clothes were definitely more chic and sophisticated, but he knew her . Knew her instantly - the bright blue eyes and dark lashes, red mouth and freckles, and wow, she was beautiful, she’d grown up.

“Abigail?” He said, voice cracking, and her eyes went wide and then she flung herself into his arms, winding herself around him, smelling faintly of coffee and omega and pack .

“Will? Will, oh my god! Hannibal said - he said he had a surprise but I-”

Will had to pull back, still holding on tight but needing to look at her, see her wide smile, needing to take in her face, bright and glowing with health. He fumbled at her hair, pushing it aside to see the rugged scar tissue of where her ear should be. Fuck. Fuck it was, she was, he didn’t understand how-

“You. You were dead,” he said brokenly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I couldn’t - Will, Jack was going to arrest me,” she said, face falling, pleading like she needed him to understand. “Hannibal wanted to make sure I could be free. Could have a real life because - you know I did, you know I helped him. The FBI wasn’t ever going to let me go.”

He touched her face, her cheek, and a tear slid over his thumb. He realised that she was crying, but also he was crying. He saw her eyes drop to his throat, to the mating bite there.

“Will and I mated last week,” Hannibal said behind them, and stepped in close to put a steadying hand on Will’s shoulder. “That’s why I asked you to come home for spring break instead of meeting you in Paris.”

“Paris?” Will echoed inanely, and Abigail smiled, big and wide.

“I’m studying at the Université de Paris,” she explained. “I’m going to go into medicine and be a psychiatrist like Hannibal!”

Oh well that’s fucked up , Will thought distantly. But he smiled at her tremulously, because the joy crashing through him felt like a physical thing. She was alive. He’d mourned her for over three years and god, she had a life. She was in college and in Paris and beautiful and alive .

“I always hoped you’d come back, Hannibal always said - well it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. We can be a family now,” Abigail said, big blue eyes glossy with tears, and she took his hands in her own and squeezed them tight. “Will you be my family now Will?”

Oh fuck, Will thought. Ohhhhh fuck .

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes please.”

“I think Will needs a moment, this has been quite a shock,” Hannibal intervened, touching Abigail affectionately on the shoulder to draw her attention. “Why don’t you take your things upstairs and run a bath? I’ll bring you up a tray, you could no doubt use something after the flight. Will can get his bearings and we can settle in to get him up to date.”

“Of course. If that’s…?” Abigail said, turning to Will questioning. 

“Of course. That sounds perfect. You should - you should have a chance to change and uh, eat and then we can talk. You can tell me everything about Paris, I want to hear it,” he said roughly, squeezing her hands again before letting go. Abigail beamed at him once more, and bounded out of the room to get her things.

He was turning to Hannibal even as Hannibal put a hand on his upper shoulder and tried to speak, but he grabbed him by the tie and reeled him in, pressing their mouths together in a hard, closed-mouth kiss. He broke long enough to give a gasping sob and leaned back in, mouth parted this time, and Hannibal was ready, meeting him for a proper kiss, mouth soft together, Hannibal’s tongue stroking against his own, pulling him close against his body and holding him tight.

When they broke for breath, Hannibal’s gaze was soft, but then sharped and his head tilted in curiosity. He leaned in, nosing under Will’s chin and pressing his nose to his neck to scent deeply. When he lifted his head his eyes were gleaming once more.

“You’re pregnant, Will,” he said quietly, and Will felt his heart squeeze painfully because that - he’d wanted that so much, and mourned Abigail so much, and now, right now, it felt like he had everything he’d ever wanted and it felt close to physically painful.

“We have to kill Jack Crawford,” he blurted, and Hannibal blinked in surprise.

“We have to…?”

“Kill him,” Will confirmed.

“Presumably because you’ve been plotting how to incriminate and imprison me after confirming a pregnancy as revenge for Abigail’s death and now you’ve changed your mind but you already let Jack in on your plan?” Hannibal asked, and now Will blinked at him in surprise.

“Yeah,” he said. Then his mouth went hard. “You killed Beverly. I know you did. But if I put you in prison I risk losing Abigail, don’t I?”

“I have her total loyalty, darling,” Hannibal said, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “But I’ll give you the time to poach it from me.” 

“We still have to kill Jack,” Will decided. “He’s expecting progress as soon as I know I’m pregnant. And I’m on the team now.”

“I will sharpen the knife. I feel you should deal the killing blow,” Hannibal said simply. “But we have time to plan. Come and finish your coffee before Abigail comes back downstairs.

Later, much later after Abigail came downstairs and told him all about Paris and he told her Hannibal confirmed the pregnancy - later after he got his breath back and went to the bathroom. Will drew his phone out of his pocket. There was an encrypted app on his phone that looked like a calculator, and he opened it and plugged in the authorisation code Jack had given him.

The message he sent Jack was simple.

Abigail is alive and in Rio under a false name. He believes he has me now. 

He stared down at it for a long time after hitting send, then tucked his phone back in his pocket and went back out to his family.

*

That night, Hannibal found Will didn’t deny him kisses - their lovemaking was tender and intimate, and while knotted they lay in the dark making vague plans for when Abigail returned to school and how they might visit her before the baby was born. After they’d managed to separate and clean up a little, Hannibal drew Will into his arms and listened to his mate’s breathing slowly even out in sleep.

He kissed Will’s forehead in the dark. He had to assume that Will told Jack Crawford something about Abigail - he’d need to demonstrate that Hannibal had reason to believe he had Will entirely. He wondered what country Will had told Jack she was in. Certainly not France, and certainly not that she was in the US right at this moment.

Will had told Hannibal he would send a message. No doubt the same way he’d told Jack he would find a way to entrap Hannibal. He was playing both sides against the middle. Hannibal doubted even Will truly knew whose side he was on - except that of himself and the baby. He had no illusions that Abigail begging for her place as family had secured her safety with Will - he’d wanted her so badly when he’d been totally unable to have a child of his own.

Hannibal tugged Will closer, enjoying the heat of his body, the promise he contained. Perhaps Will did intend to double or triple cross his mate. But Hannibal was almost entirely sure Will had not considered one key fact.

Will was a latent omega who had known Hannibal for almost a year while remaining latent - it was only when he understood Hannibal as he truly was, when he tore the facade away, that he presented. Because he’d found his mate at last.

-end-