Chapter Text
Demænetus, the Parrhasian, during a sacrifice of human victims, which the Arcadians were offering up to the Lycæan. Jupiter, tasted the entrails of a boy who had been slaughtered; upon which he was turned into a wolf -
- Pliny The Elder on Wolves: The Origin of the Story of Versipellis, The Natural History, 77AD
Hannibal was sure there was something off about Will Graham, though what that was he couldn’t say for certain.
He believed at first that it was his demeanor. When he walked into the office of Jack Crawford to meet the twitchy detective for the first time, Will’s adversity to social interaction and bitter snarls towards the psychiatrist was not missed by any measure. Hannibal found it endearing, but there was something in the back of his mind that told him there was more to Will than initial impressions.
After the death of Garret Jacob Hobbs, Hannibal wondered if it was Will’s potential as a killer. He could not deny how beautiful he looked with the red splattered across his face nor the steadiness in his hands when he pulled the trigger. As Hannibal worked to keep Abigail Hobbes alive, his eyes caught the flick of a tongue tasting the blood dripping down onto his lips when he thought the doctor was preoccupied. That, in itself, was enough for Hannibal to be intrigued in pursuing further.
But that still wasn’t it. For every session they shared after the fact, the philosophical questions each other posed and the quiet confessions of taboo desires, Hannibal considered it was Will’s own perception of death and murder that he had sensed. Through his own eagerness to dissect his new friend, he himself became infatuated with the notion that there was someone else who could see what he could see. Understand the complexity and unearthly beauty in death and taking a life. Will was that someone, and although his distaste for taking a life was a road block it was one that Hannibal was convinced he could break none of the less.
For everything Hannibal had tried to learn of Will, he realized that he could never fully predict him nor his intentions. Not for a lack of trying, of course. He had become, by design, Will’s one stable source of comfort and his confidant. But for all his prodding, there was so much he couldn’t fully understand and he had a sneaking suspicion that Will was purposefully hiding an aspect of himself.
The first thread of Will’s secret came from the simple observation of Will’s senses. Hannibal had noticed that he had a superior sense of smell and hearing, surpassing even his own unique nose. His palate was also impressive in the distinction of meats and seafood. He could discern the beast the cut came from with ease, with the benefit of lack of seasoning. Hannibal, in his own hubris, was curious about Will’s gifts. He served him a cut from a local doctor, who was overpricing his services and trying to gut a pharmaceutical relief bill being passed in council, with a tasteful amount of seasoning and a sauce made from blood.
When he presented it to Will, he made no hints as to what he was being served. With a keen interest, he watched him taste his first bite. When Will stilled, brow furrowed in confusion as he chewed, Hannibal wondered if he could truly tell what he was eating. But if Will had any inclination of his dinner’s origins, it didn’t seem to bother him. On the contrary, he ate it faster than Hannibal had ever seen him eat before. When Hannibal inquired what Will believed the meat to be, he paused and thought to himself before admitting he didn’t know but that he enjoyed it immensely.
That certainly intrigued Hannibal.
He focused more effort into observing Will’s behavior, admonishing his previous hobbies and social obligations. He still had dinner parties and his music, but his mind was far from him to thoughts of Will Graham and he found himself almost bored with his previously suitable lifestyle.
Bedelia had called him obsessed and perhaps she was correct. But Hannibal couldn’t let his intuition be let go. He needed to know who Will was.
His efforts did not go wasted. He learned from Alana that Will was unwell, taking a week off every month to rest and recover in his own home. During this time, nobody would hear from him. If they tried to visit his house, he would rebuff their concerns and slam the door in their face. She believed it was stress related or even a cycle of depression, but every time he returned Will seemed reasonably okay.
There was also an unacknowledged hostility to Will, his first instincts when faced with confrontation being to be on the aggressive side. Although he could temper himself around Jack or Abigail, Hannibal had bared witness to Will's growls towards Freddy Lounds and other such undesirables. His hands would clench as if in an almost uncontrollable anger, teeth bared in a hounds snarl. Habits he might have picked up spending his time surrounded by dogs.
As he spent more and more time involving himself in Will Graham, the more he realized his interest (or obsession) was morphing into yearning and desire. Hannibal had once prided himself on his solitude and his control over emotions and people. He was perfectly suited to be alone for the rest of his life. But Will had changed him, and his thoughts were almost consumed entirely by his patient.
Hannibal felt Will’s absence like a weight on his chest. His art often depicted him, interpreting heroes and legends in the likeness of Will. When he hunted, he would think about what it would be like to hunt with Will. It was an insatiable hunger that Hannibal was unfamiliar with, nourished by the very presence of Will around him. It was maddening, and more than once Hannibal considered just killing the object of his obsession to find peace once more. But an ache in his heart, loneliness, would end that line of thought. He was too interested in Will to let him go so easily.
It was one of those evenings where Hannibal had his mind drift to the threads he had built in his mind palace, trying to piece together a picture he did not recognize when his office phone rang. He read the caller ID, his heart beating slightly when he saw it was Will. He picked up the receiver and gave a professional, “Hello, Dr. Lecter speaking.”.
“Dr. Lecter?” It was definitely Will. But he sounded distressed. Hannibal could hear the panic and stress in his voice as he panted slightly into the phone. For a fleeting minute, Hannibal worried he was in trouble. “It’s Will. I’m sorry but I won’t be able to make our appointment tonight.”
“Is everything alright?” Hannibal asked, leaning on his desk. He heard a low growl in the receiver, similar to that of a dog.
“Yes, yes I’m fine.” Will assured him, but he was not very convincing. “I’m just not feeling well. I should have let you know sooner, I just lost track of time. I should be in next week.”
He sounded rushed, the feebleness of his excuses painting a suspicious picture. Hannibal asked, “Are you sure? I can drive in to see you if you think you need-”
“NO!” The sudden shout shocked Hannibal, pulling the receiver slightly from his ear. In a much more quiet, but still urgent, tone Will continued, “No, please don’t. I’ll be okay. This happens sometimes. Just- I’ll talk to you later, alright? Goodbye.”
And without a chance to respond, Will hung up the phone. Hannibal sat listening to a dial tone for a few moments, stunned at what had just transpired. He eventually managed to replace the phone, tapping his fingers on his desk as he thought about what to do. The dark of his office felt oppressive, the foreign loneliness seeping into his mind like a venom. Deciding that it was better to leave now, he locked up for the night and went home.
He prepared himself his dinner, an oven cooked rosemary chicken with sweet carrots and roasted chickpeas, and settled into his nightly routines. But the nagging tug on his mind that led to Will kept him distracted enough to be unable to settle down. He thought of making the drive out that night, but even he had limits on how late his unannounced visits would be. In an effort to appease himself, he packaged a portion of his supper in a container and resigned himself to visit early in the morning.
His sleep that night was restless, and he ended up getting up just after sunrise. Donning some casual clothes and with Will’s breakfast in hand, he made his way towards Wolftrap. The roads were void of people, the warm glow of sunrise over the trees a very beautiful sight to see. Hannibal made the trip in around an hour and a half, pulling up the long gravel road that led to the isolated home.
The first thing he noticed was the open front door that led into the house. Dogs milled around outside, watching with interest as Hannibal stepped out of the Bently. They sniffed him cautiously, recognizing his scent and allowing his passage without interference. He noted how tense they seemed, heads flicking between him and the door with concern. Hannibal walked up to the front porch, his eyes catching a large stain on the wood.
It was blood. A lot of blood.
Dread filled Hannibal’s blood with ice. He stepped quickly into the threshold and looked around the darkened interior. Inside he saw furniture displaced, although still standing, and a few assorted household items strewn about. He set the container on the counter as he rushed to where he knew Will’s bed was. As he neared the back of the house, he saw a bloody handprint on the wall.
“Will?” Hannibal called out. He reached the corner and turned, heart beating in his chest.
To his relief, he saw Will curled up in his bed and just beginning to wake. His hair was tossed and he had dark circles under his eyes. He blinked a couple times, shaking off the sleep he was clearly just awoken from, staring in confusion at Hannibal staring at him. “Doctor Lecter? What are you doing here?”
“Ah, forgive me.” Hannibal stilled himself, trying to keep his voice steady. “I was worried about your well being and I saw the blood on the porch.”
“Oh.” Will's face fell, eyes lowered to the floor as he almost looked ashamed. His head tilted with the golden sunlight pouring from his window, and Hannibal caught the slight tint of blood on Will's lips. "A wolf came around last night and got too close to the pack. I had to take a couple shots at it."
It was a lie, plain as day. Hannibal wondered if he had gotten into a fight, but he didn't seem to be physically injured. But Will looked exhausted, his limbs loose and stiff as he struggled to sit up in the bed. Hannibal walked to his bedside, sitting close to him. "And your health? Are you feeling any better."
He reached out to Will's forehead. Expecting him to pull away like he usually did with human contact, Hannibal was taken back by Will leaning into his hand with a soft sigh. His head felt warm, but not enough to warrant a fever. His fingers tangled slightly in the brown curls and an unmistakable smell of earth and nature filled his nose.
"I'm feeling a little better." Will admitted. "You didn't need to come all the way out here though."
"No, but I did anyway. And I brought breakfast." Hannibal relinquished his hand. His eyes fell to Will's lips, a taunting and delicious dark brown that hinted at a secret. "I'll bring it to you. Relax here."
Will didn't protest, slinking back into the pillows and shutting his eyes. Hannibal took the chance to glance at Will's hands. He expected bruises on the knuckles, but instead he found fingers blackened with dirt.
The two shared a peaceful and quiet breakfast together, eating on Will's bed and chatting idly about nothing in particular. Hannibal could tell Will was distracted about something, his words occasionally trailing off as his eyes grew distant. But he would shake himself back, returning to the conversation with a half hearted response.
Soon enough Hannibal was sent on his way with weak assurances that if Will felt worse, he would be the first he would call. With more questions than answers, Hannibal had to satiate himself with the assurance that Will was alright. The smell of earth still hung in his hand, filling his stomach with a fluttering sensation.
A week later, Will arrived for his usual appointment time. Opening the door, Hannibal could immediately tell that he was looking a lot better. His eyes were more relaxed and well rested, and he seemed to carry himself stronger. He strolled in, taking his place on the seat opposite Hannibal's chair. "Evening Dr. Lecter."
"Good evening Will. You are looking remarkably better."
"Thanks, I feel better."
"Any more signs of that wolf?"
Will stilled for an imperceptible second, fear flashing on his face before being disguised with a casual coolness. "N-no. I think it's gotten the message."
"That's good. I'd hate for you to feel hunted in your own home." Hannibal handed him a full glass of wine, which Will took gratefully. He then grabbed his own and sat comfortably with his legs crossed.
"Yeah." Will muttered. He took a large sip from his glass, the red of the wine tinting his lips like the morning before. Hannibal licked his lips subconsciously, imagining the iron of blood mingling with the fruits of the liquor and salt of Will's sweat. He refocused himself when he saw Will reach into his bag. "I uh- I have something for you."
He pulled out a small velvet case, handing it across the space. Hannibal could tell it was weathered and old. Opening it, he saw a beautiful and handcrafted silver medallion attached to a chain. It was about the size of a silver dollar, intricate symbols carved into the metal that swirled into three interlocking triangles.
"Are you asking to make an honest man out of me Will?" Hannibal asked. Will smiled, chuckling as his head dipped slightly that brightened Hannibal's own grin.
"I wouldn't burden you with dealing with me." Will mused. "It's just important to me that you have that."
"May I ask what it is?"
"It's a protective charm. I got it in Louisiana, it's supposed to ward off danger. I've had it for a bit."
Hannibal lifted the charm from its box and ran his thumb across the engraving. To his surprise, he found the metal warm. "It's wonderful Will, thank you. But might I ask, what do you think I need protecting from?"
The smile faded slightly from Will as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Nothing in particular. But you wearing it would just... Bring some peace of mind."
The pause felt purposeful, like he was picking his words carefully. He bit his lower lip slightly. "You don't have to wear it all the time or anything. Just maybe the next time you decide to drop by unannounced or if we're on a case together."
"I never pegged you as a superstitious man." Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
Will tilted his head back, staring off at nothing in particular. "I've seen a few things to make me cautious."
"And you'll think I'll be hurt?"
Will didn't answer, biting his lip harder and clutching his glass tightly. Hannibal decided to let that particular conversation drop, slinging the charm over his head and slipping it under his shirt. Relief washed over Will as he watched the silver slip out of sight. With a reassuring smile, Hannibal said, "If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll be happy to wear it.”
With the tension eased slightly, Will relaxed enough to give a weak smile. “Thank you, Hannibal.”
...
True to his word, Hannibal wore the charm. He wore it constantly in fact, never once considering taking it off. He would mindlessly hold the charm in his hand as he read his papers or books, fingers running over the runes. He wore it in the shower, hanging off his neck like it was just another part of his body. He even wore it in bed, fingers tangled in the chain as he drifted. It always seemed to be warm to the touch and in the dark of the night Hannibal could swear it vibrated slightly, humming in a low and comforting tone.
He especially enjoyed it when he hunted with it on, imagining it was a part of Will with him as he took the life of his prey. In the times he let himself be taken by carnal pleasure he would bring the charm to his lips as he stroked his cock, thinking of Will over him and taking his pleasure as he saw fit. He always finished with a choked cry, hard and fast with semen running down his stomach. It was staggering how completely unhinged Will made him feel at times.
He, of course, did not mention any of this to Will himself. He would make sure the chain was visible during their sessions to assure him that he was wearing it, but beyond that they did not speak of it. They also did not speak on the events of that morning, Will tastefully avoiding any conversation thread that would lead to him having to further explain himself. But Hannibal didn’t forget, simply holding onto his questions until he had a good opportunity to get answers.
A month later, he would get his chance.
It was almost around the same time. The week preceding their scheduled session, Hannibal noticed a subtle shift in Will’s behavior. He began to become more reclusive, twitchy even. He snapped faster at people who frustrated him, acting more impulsive than usual and just seemed more exhausted.
When prodded, Will would deny anything would be wrong. But as each day passed, he became slightly more erratic and tense. The night before their appointment together, Will was almost a completely different person. He showed up unannounced at Hannibal’s house, walking in without knocking. He met him in the kitchen as Hannibal was finishing preparing his latest hunt, shoulders squared and muscles tensed. He didn’t even wait for a greeting, he just placed a bottle of wine on the counter with a slight amount of malice and a huff. “I won’t be in tomorrow.”
“... Hello Will.” Hannibal cocked an eyebrow, both apprehensive and impressed by Will's sudden bravado. “Are you not feeling well again?”
“It’s a little more complicated, but yes.” Will sighed. He looked Hannibal up and down, far more unabashed than he typically would be. Hannibal was in his casual clothes, a button down dress shirt that was only buttoned to his mid chest and casual slacks. The silver chain hung freely, the glint of the metal almost reflected in Will’s eyes as he devoured Hannibal. There was a restrained hunger to him, lips flicking out to wet his lips.
Hannibal’s pulse quickened. He recognized that stare, a hunter's prowl. Will was sizing him up, whether for a fight or something more he didn’t know. But it made his blood hot and mouth salivated slightly. Keeping his composure, Hannibal pulled out the cut of meat he had prepared onto the counter. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you’d like, we can speak tonight instead over dinner.”
“I- I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Will muttered. His eyes left Hannibal and focused on the meat instead, his nostrils flaring slightly as he took the scent in. “I don’t want to get you sick as well.”
“My immune system is very adaptable, I’m sure whatever ails you won’t be an issue.” Hannibal assured him. “I was just about to start cooking. I insist.”
“Doctor Lecter-”
“Let me grab a glass for the both of us.” Hannibal interrupted what he was sure was going to be a half hearted excuse to leave. He left Will alone in the kitchen, mind reeling with connections and theories of his own conspiracies. If he had his way, Will would not be leaving that night without explaining himself further. Or until one of them was under the other. Whether through blood lust or lust itself, he didn’t really mind.
He made his way back to the kitchen, glasses in hand and mind full of fantasies. His footfalls stopped in the doorway as his eyes went wide at what he saw in front of him.
Will was leaned over the counter, hands coated in blood holding the raw meat to his mouth. He took a ravenous bite as if he had not eaten in days, tearing the meat cleanly like an animal. His eyes were closed in pleasure, savouring the taste quickly. Hannibal watched in awe as he consumed another portion, so quiet as to not interrupt whatever he was witnessing.
But Will froze. His eyes opened slightly, brow scrunched in confusion. Hannibal could see his mind working, chewing slowly as he seemed to realize something. He looked up, catching Hannibal staring at him with a look of horror and realisation. A shared understanding sparked between the two about what the meat truly was. Who Hannibal was preparing to serve him that night. Intrigue turned into dread as Hannibal set down the glasses. “Will...”
“I need to leave. Right now.” Will said suddenly. He dropped the meat, dashing towards the door with an unprecedented speed. But Hannibal was quick as well, catching him at the front door and crashing into his body. He heaved Will into the wall, halting his flee. Blood still dripped from Will’s lips, open and panting as he looked up.
Hannibal leaned in, arm pressed against Will’s neck. He whispered into his ear, warm breath cascading down his neck. “You’re not leaving tonight, Will. Not until we have a real conversation about each other.”
“Hannibal, you don’t understand.” Will pleaded. “I need to leave. For the both of us, please.”
“You’re right, I don’t understand. Enlighten me.”
He heard a heavy and frustrated sigh, and suddenly Hannibal was off his feet. His back landed hard against the opposite wall, knocking the breath out of his chest and making him stumble. Before he could recover, he felt his hair pulling his head up forcefully. His eyes met Will’s, who was standing over him with his hands clawed in his hair. His mouth was snarled and eyes dark.
“I’m going to leave. You are not going to follow me.” He commanded. “In three days, I will come back. I promise. But I need you to stay away from me. And do not take off that medallion.”
The sudden strength Hannibal didn’t know Will possessed was not limited to his physical stature. The warning he gave was steeled with confidence and assurance, driving itself into Hannibal’s subconscious. With no other warning, Will released his grap and rushed out the door.
Hannibal was left alone once more, breath heavy as he looked out the open door into the night. His blood was pumping and adrenaline was spurring him to pursue Will further. But his mind warned him to do what he was told. There was an unsettling and animalistic side to Will he had not anticipated, and as much as he would like to chase him to discover more he couldn’t be sure Will wouldn’t kill him.
He stood to his feet, hand immediately raising the charm on his neck. To his slight amusement, Hannibal could feel his cock swell a little at the burst of violence. He stood at the door, looking towards the direction Will fled, his mind racing with truths and revelations. He decided he would let Will run for now, allowing him three days before hunting the detective down.
But Will had changed him in so many ways. Impatience was one of them.
Hannibal made it to the day of their appointment, sitting in silence staring at the opposite chair. He had not heard anything from Will nor had the FBI knocked on his door, so he felt confident his friend would not tell them anything. But the deadly tug of curiosity was almost too unbearable, the many thoughts and theories about what was too overwhelming to have any reasonable thought.
So for the second time, Hannibal made his way to Wolf Trap. He was cautious enough to bring a blade, hidden in the pockets of his jacket. The moon was full above him, shining down bright brilliant light as he contemplated what he was going to do. He could kill Will, if needed, but he didn’t want to.
The moon was at its height when he reached the secluded acre. When he stepped out of the car, Hannibal felt immediately on edge. The instincts that had kept him alive and free for so long was telling him he was being watched. He looked to the blacked out windows of the home, void of any evidence of someone living in there. His eyes scanned the treeline of Will’s property, flicking his head slightly when he saw a dark figure in the corner of his eye.
He managed to see it retreat further into the property, running rather quickly. Hannibal decided to follow after it, interested to know what game was being played here. If Will thought he would need to hide himself, then perhaps he was more afraid that Hannibal initially believed.
Stepping past the tree line and into the woodland, Hannibal kept his senses sharp. He had spent decades perfecting the art of the hunt, honing his ears for the tell tale sounds of heavy breathing and the stench of fear that led him to the hiding spots of his prey. The full moon allowed him to walk without much trouble, avoiding the gnarled roots and foliage that would impede his mission. He caught the sound of a branch snapping in the distance, less than a few dozen feet, and quickened his pace slightly.
He ended up walking for a little over ten minutes, following the small sounds of something running away from him. The wind was still that night and he was unable to pick up anything familiar. He was eventually led into a small clearing in the middle of the woods, stopping to get his bearings. Hannibal stood still, listening to the earth around him. It was silent. Very silent. A slight worry washed over him as he realised that he couldn’t even hear the birds sing or bugs chirp. He was alone in the woods with nothing to hear, until-
SNAP. The loud crunch of a twig to his right alerted him. It was accompanied by a heavy breathing, and Hannibal realised it was very close to him. He turned, expecting to see Will staring back at him. His grin turned into a grimace when he realized that he was wrong.
Instead of Will Graham, he was face to face with a large black bear.
It was massive, with large shoulders and a face covered in scars. It’s paws were around the size of Hannibal’s head, claws glinting in the moonlight. It was less than a couple feet away, head tilted in observation and apprehension. Hannibal immediately took a step back, reaching for the knife in his jacket pocket. This was the wrong move, he realised, as the bear snarled at him and began to charge. His fingers slipped on the handle of his blade and he realized that it was going to be too late. The bear lifted itself onto its hind legs, arm raised back to take a sweep. Hannibal lifted his arm to take the brunt of it’s attack, eyes closed in anticipation.
A loud growl called out to Hannibal’s left, and he opened his eyes quickly enough to see a flash of brown and grey sprint past him and into the flank of the bear. The black bear roared in pain, falling onto it’s back as a massive creature flung itself into its throat. Hannibal stepped back, watching transfixed as this massive furry beast tore the bear’s throat out in one fell swoop. The blood splattered onto it’s fur, the sound of fur and flesh being torn mercilessly creating a symphony of horror. Eventually, the bear fell limp onto the ground and the beast crawled off. Hannibal could only stare in horror, frozen to his spot, as he saw this creature lift itself onto its back legs and face him fully.
In the bright light that shone down from above, Hannibal could see it was a large wolf. Standing bipedal, it towered over him at 14 ft high. It’s fur was long and mattered, covering every inch of the strangely human-like form, with a long tail that reached it’s back paws. It’s head was lupine, but with a strangely human emotion to it. It glared at him, teeth snarling and dripping with blood. Hannibal had never seen anything like it in his life and his mouth hung open in awe.
The creature approached him slowly, eyes not leaving his own. Hannibal stood his ground, bewitched by the supernatural entity that he had discovered. It came within a few feet of him, and Hannibal could smell decay on its breath. It leaned in close, a low growl humming from it’s chest, and took a large smell from Hannibal. He could feel the wetness of its nose almost pressing into him. The creature winced slightly, taking a step back. It’s eyes trailed down to Hannibal’s chest, where the charm was hanging loosely.
It widened its eyes, as if in realization. It turned back to Hannibal, looking at him with slight reproach. Hannibal looked deep into its eyes, finding them hauntingly familiar. With a jolt to his heart, he recognised them. The light blue eyes tinged with brown that he so often dreamt about over him, the ones hidden behind a glass frame they didn’t need. Eyes that radiated sadness and misery, but carried the narrow glare of a killer.
“Will?” Hannibal whispered, unable to believe it himself.
The beast looked down sheepishly, the snarl gone as they stood opposed to each other. It looked almost ashamed, eyes flicking away in the same manner Will would when he was nervous. It was him, Hannibal was sure.
“Will.” He reached out a hand to him, no longer afraid of what this could be. But Will stepped back again, not letting him close. His eyes flicked back to the charm, and Hannibal realised for whom it was meant to protect him against. Will fell back to all fours, back pacing slowly away from Hannibal. Before he could speak again, the large beast took off into the forest. Hannibal could only catch the last of his tail disappearing into the brush.
Once again, he was alone. The woods silent as the events that just transpired are still processing in his mind. He would have been sure it was a hallucination, or perhaps even a dream, if it weren’t for the very dead bear that was beginning to rot next to him. As he found his bearings, connections began to click in his head. The puzzle that had eluded him was finally forming in front of him and he almost wanted to laugh.
A part of him wanted to chase after Will, wanting to learn more. But the forest was vast and he was alone, the risks being too great for him to pursue safely. Instead, he decided to retreat back to the homestead, retracing his steps with relative ease under the moonlight.
As the home finally reached his vision, he heard a howl echo in the night. It was beautiful, a long call that resonated throughout the forest.
Hannibal made it to the front door, finding it unlocked. He swung the door open, finding the inside was similar to the last time he was there. Furniture knocked around, odds and ends strewn about. He walked to the back of the house, finding the pack curled up in their respective beds but on high alert. Winston was staring out one of the windows into the forest standing sentinel, not even acknowledging Hannibal as he walked in. The other dogs whined slightly, ears tilted back in slight fear as they looked between Hannibal and the door.
After tidying up the house, Hannibal resigned himself to sitting next to Winston and staring out the window with him. He did not want to leave without his questions answered, a few dozen more added to his ever growing list. Memories of his childhood came back to him, and he vaguely recalled his mother one telling him and his sister a nursery rhyme of the dreaded wolf-man. The words were forgotten to him but he could still remember Mischa hiding herself behind him in terror.
Eventually he dozed off, head resting on his arm tilted towards the window. His dreams were vague, darkness swirling like shadowed dust across hulking figures and the resonating howl under a large moon.
He was awoken by Winston’s bark, jolting him out of his sleep. He looked out the window to where Winston was alerted too, seeing the early rise of the sun cresting the trees. Staggering out from the forest was Will, the very human Will, naked and covered in blood. He stumbled towards the home, tripping onto his knees as if he was close to passing out. Immediately, Hannibal rushed out from the back door. Winston followed, running ahead to his master.
Will was shaking, hands clamping to try and get up. As Winston licked his face, Hannibal took his jacket and wrapped it around Will. “Come on, we need to get you inside.”
“Hannibal?” Will choked hoarsely.
“I’m here, I have you.” He cooed, pulling Will into him and standing him up. With an arm wrapped around his shoulder, he led the exhausted man into his home and into his bed with Winston close behind. He settled Will into the sheets, checking his forehead and pulse for any irregularities. Will let him touch him with no complaint, relaxing into the pillows with an exhausted sigh.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered.
“No, you didn’t.” Hannibal told him. He brushed his hair from his forehead, the earthy smell returning to him. “You saved me, actually.”
Will looked relieved, his shoulders loosening as he groaned. “Never want to hurt you. That’s why... I gave you the... the necklace.”
“Shhhh.” Hannibal quieted him, pressing him down into the sheets. “You must be exhausted. Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Will did as he was told, falling asleep quickly with a small snore. Satisfied that he would be alright, Hannibal set about preparing breakfast for the both of them. He let the dogs outside, letting them roam freely and sniff the boundary lines of their home. He found a large fish deboned and scaled, ready to be cooked. Stuffing it with garlic, lemon and the few spices Will had in his cabinet, he managed a reasonably well prepared breakfast. He portioned Will’s out and ate his own, satisfied with his talent to make due with what he had on hand.
When the fish was finished, Hannibal made a pot of coffee. He sat waiting in the dining area, sipping on his mug and watching the dogs have the run of the place.
An hour later, he heard heavy footsteps heading towards the kitchen. He turned his head, seeing Will walk in. He had donned a t-shirt and underwear, but the red blood was still on his skin. He looked at Hannibal and opened his mouth to say something. But Hannibal was quicker, “You need to eat. I’ve taken the liberty of preparing the fish you had, I hope it’s alright.”
“Y-yeah. That’s fine. Thank you.” He said. He took his plate and cup of coffee, sitting across Hannibal and devouring it within minutes. His eyes were dark and lined with signs of sleep depervasion. His fingers were black again, marked with dirt and earth. Hannibal waited for Will to speak to him first, keen on not overwhelming him with too many rushed questions.
After a couple minutes of stilted silence, Will finally spoke. “I take it you know, then?”
“I know some, understand less.” Hannibal admitted. “I’d rather you explain it to me than have me make baseless assumptions.”
Will nodded, thinking over his choice of words. He sighed, hunching into himself and staring into the black of his coffee as he began, “Ever since I was 20, I’ve been... changing once a month. During the full moon. Into a wild animal. I guess the best word to describe my condition is lycanthrope.”
“A werewolf.” Hannibal finished. Although he had made the same connection, it was still very astonishing to hear out loud.
“A werewolf.” Will repeated glumly. “During the lunar week, it gets harder for me to control my impulses. I get stronger, more agitated. On the night of the full moon, it’s like I black out. I can feel the anger and bloodlust coming, but I can’t recall most of what it’s like. It comes to me in brief visions and waves. When I’m that... thing... I’m not myself.”
He grimaced. “I’ve been killing livestock, eating them raw. I wake up with their blood in my mouth. Sometimes their remains are on my porch. I’ve had enough time to control some of myself when I’m the beast, I’ve never attacked a human while living here. But I know I can’t risk it.”
“Is that why you gave me the charm?”
“Pure silver. I got lucky that I knew someone who was a bit odd herself. When you wear that, I can’t touch you. Or at least, it’s very unpleasant. I figured that since you had a habit of showing up unannounced, it would be better that you have it.”
“Does anyone else know about your condition?”
“Alana and Jack have a vague idea.” Will sighed. “All they know is to stay away once a month. You’re the only person who has the full picture.”
Hannibal felt a strange pride in that knowledge. “Would you like my assurance that I would keep this between ourselves?”
“I don’t think anyone would believe you.” Will chuckled. “Telling someone that a reclusive detective is secretly a wolf man is just about as ridiculous as telling someone a revered psychiatrist is the Chesapeake Ripper.”
There it was. Hannibal crossed his legs, mind flicking briefly to the knife he still carried in his pocket. “Was it the meat that gave me away?”
“It was always so odd.” Will set his cup down, leaning his arms onto the table. “Masked behind the spices, I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t until I could smell it raw last night that I was certain.”
“I see. May I ask what you think of me now that you know the truth, Will?”
“It's not something I think I can surmise easily.” Will contemplate. His brow furrowed, staring at Hannibal with a conflicted expression. “On one hand, you are a killer. A murderer. One that I have been specifically asked to find. I can’t say I’m pleased with this revelation.”
“But on the other hand?”
Will paused, and Hannibal held his breath. When he finally spoke, it was slow and meticulous. “On the other hand... I can’t say I’m not that much different.”
His eyes fell distant as he entered his own mind, words coming out like a stream of consciousness. “I’ve always been an empath, that’s never changed. But since I’ve been like this, I’ve been able to connect to the aggression. The blood lust. A sitting anger that’s nestled into my skin like a rash. I’ve wanted to hurt people. To tear them apart. When I’m the beast, I can barely resist it. That’s why I’ve been so afraid of being around others. I don’t know if I can stop myself. Especially not since I’ve tasted human again.”
Will gave Hannibal an accusatory glare. “It has been almost two decades since the first time I craved eating flesh. I had ebbed myself from it like an addiction. But since it’s re-entered my diet... Last night was very dangerous, Hannibal. I might have eaten you whole.”
His last words were strung out, either in a bitter reflection of the what if’s that could have played out last night or a warning of the consequences of Hannibal’s prying into places he shouldn’t be. Neither implications were lost on him, humility rearing it’s sneering head as Hannibal reflected on his recklessness. But as the saying went, satisfaction brought the cat back. And he knew he wouldn’t have changed his choices.
Will leaned back in his chair, looking resigned. “I guess that was a long way of saying I’m not going to turn you in. Not that I had any evidence against you to begin with.”
“No, you didn’t.” Hannibal smirked slightly to Will’s frustration. “But I still appreciate the assurance.”
“I would have found out eventually.” Will said defensively.
“As I would have told you eventually.” Hannibal admitted. When Will made a questioning tilt to his head, he continued. “I do find a certain kinship with you, a like minded hunter. I would have been remiss if either one of us had to eliminate the other.”
Will frowned slightly. “I’m not sure if an impulsive rampager could be considered like minded to a serial killer. You delight in your kills, I tolerate.”
“I disagree. We both allow ourselves the natural inclination to take what we seek.” Hannibal took a risk, reaching out to Will’s hand. He took his fingers, stroking a thumb across the dirt that still strained his skin. “Yours is a beautiful and ancient rage, worthy of worship.”
While he did look slightly uncomfortable, Will didn’t pull his fingers away. Hannibal took that as a slight victory, smiling warmly at him.
“I’m not sure if I want to discuss this further right now.” Will muttered. He looked up at Hannibal, eyes glimmering with something hopeful. The corners of his mouth turned slightly up. “But... it’ll be nice to finally talk to someone about this.”
“It will, I am eager to learn all that I can. I want to help you, Will.” Hannibal assured him.
Will shifted his hand slightly, entwining their fingers so that they were holding each other. With a soft whisper, he said. “Thank you.”
...
The next month was one of the most interesting Hannibal has had in a long time. After the revelations and secrets that were brought to light, there was an unspoken connection between him and Will now. It was almost easier to breathe, to exist within each other. Their sessions went long into the night, speaking to each other with a plain truth that came without resistance. Will asked that he not kill again, at least not until he can figure out how to navigate his investigation so as not arouse suspicion for either of them. Hannibal obliged, on the condition that Will be fully honest about his own condition.
And to his credit, he was. Hannibal had learned so much from what Will had told him alone. He explained that when he was a rookie in the NOPD, he had been attacked by a man who had a warrant for assault and domestic disturbance. The man had captured him, held him prisoner, feeding him a strange meat he didn’t recognize, and in a surge of fury he had killed the man. He got off on self defence, but on the next full moon he entered his first transformation. He went on his own rampage, killing another man and consuming him.
After that week, he had decided to move up north away from the city. He had purchased the land purposefully away from people, feeding his bloodlust with the local cattle and wildlife that populated his acre. His impulses, he explained, could be managed during the three weeks that he was human. It was like a small voice in the back of his mind, egging him to do what he could that he could ignore with only a slight discomfort.
But in the week leading to the full moon, it became harder and harder. It was like another version of himself was pushing him away, tempting his desires in a shameless way. Will described the many times he’s had to stop himself from fighting random strangers who had slighted him in some way. His increased strength pushed him to run for hours at a time. In one particular night after a few too many glasses of wine, Will confessed that he also felt a primal lust occasionally, having to almost tear himself away from the temptation to take who he desired then and there.
Who he desired was tastefully left out, but Hannibal had a suspicion it wasn’t Alana Bloom.
For everything Will had confessed to him, the most interesting facts Hannibal found was in the times he didn’t speak in words but in action. Hannibal observed Will more closely, and found interesting patterns that only now made sense to him. The pacing in his office around the entrance points of the room that could be described as territorial, the intense investigation into a new situation before acting and his watchful eyes looking over strangers with apprehension. All spoke to the lupine nature Will carried in his blood that people could dismiss with the excuse of imprinting off his pack.
There were also recent changes Hannibal had noticed. Most to do with the sudden presence Will had around him. In the last month, he had noted that Will seemed more keen to be around Hannibal than before. In sessions, he did not wander too far from where he sat, always within eyesight. When Hannibal accompanied him on crime scene investigations, Will kept to his side. In the week leading to the next full moon, Will had even dropped by his home unannounced more often than he had used to before, spouting excuses of being in the neighborhood and wanted to chat. These visits tended to extend into the night and with him sleeping on the guest bed. On more than one occasion, Hannibal had woken to the feeling of being watched, and in the shadows of the doorway he could have sworn he saw a dark silhouette slinking away.
He didn’t mind these changes at all. The blurring lines of boundaries and professionalism was always a goal in Hannibal’s mind, himself edging closer to Will in more subtle ways. His own confessions of bloodshed and death to Will was genuine, holding nothing back as Will pressed further. He had allowed himself to become more vulnerable emotionally, something that he had worked so long to mask. But Will Graham was different.
He also indulged himself in his own temptations. His hands would graze Will’s back ever so slightly as he passed him, feeling the tight muscles below the skin tense slightly. He would let the scent of blood and meat linger on his skin after preparing his last kill, a smell he knew Will would be able to recognize. In times of passionate debate amongst each other, whether in philosophy or ethics, Hannibal would intentionally rile Will up in a way he knew would trigger the animalistic side of him. In those moments, Will would get very close to him in anger and aggression. Hannibal would never stand down, allowing a target on his chest for Will’s rage. He knew he could get hurt, but his curiosity was far too great for him to worry. In those moments, he could almost feel the energy radiating off Will as he stared him down with teeth bared. But it wasn’t anger, or at least, wasn't completely. It was mingled with another hunger, Will’s eyes flicking down to Hannibal’s lips and fingers twitching towards his waist. He always backed down, to Hannibal’s disappointment, but as the full moon approached those moments always lingered a little longer and longer.
It was on the first day of the lunar week that Hannibal decided to bring up what had been on his mind the most. They were sitting across from each other, dining on the last of Hannibal’s hunt. Will had begun the beginning stages of his transformation, the darkness under his eyes heavy and his demeanour more chilled than usual.
“Will, I was considering something.” Hannibal said casually. Will lifted his eyebrow, and Hannibal continued. “About your apprehension towards hunting humans.”
Will scowled, brow furrowing. “What about it were you considering?”
“How you blame yourself for being unable to control yourself, for possibly harming innocents.” Hannibal explained. “I was thinking of a way to indulge your desire without crossing that moral threshold.”
“Who said I wanted to indulge myself in it?” Will asked shortly.
“Do you not?”
Will didn’t answer, which was enough for Hannibal to press forward. “We share the same desire. And I believe perhaps we could come to an arrangement.”
“... I’m listening.”
“You know the kind I prey upon?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded.
“Those you find rude. Those who impose on social values.”
“Yes. Ones whose morals could be interpreted as depraved.” Hannibal threaded his fingers together. “I don’t see why we both can’t share in the same prey.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I would bring to your property two that are morally bankrupt, and we would hunt them together.” Hannibal said plainly. “They would not be innocent, and you would indulge yourself in the primal force that you so greatly repress. And I would like to participate.”
Will paused, mulling his words over. His fingers were tight around his utensils and he bit his lower lip in hesitation. Hannibal held his breath. Finally, Will spoke. “You saw how close I got to hurting you last time. If human blood enters my system again, there’s a very good chance that I will turn on you. And charm or not, I’m not sure you’d survive.”
“I trust you not to hurt me, Will.”
“I don’t. Not when I’m the beast.”
“Actually, my plans were for the night before the full moon. You would remain human and conscious of yourself while being as close as you could be to your bestial form. If the worst case scenario plays out and you lose control, I would stand at much better odds in defending myself.”
Will gaped for a second. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“It’s been on my mind.”
“Clearly.” Will set down his utensils, mirroring Hannibal’s hands as he thought to himself. His worry and fears were clear as day on his expression, but small hope bloomed in Hannibal’s chest when he also read serious consideration and even anticipation flicker across Will’s eyes.
After a heavy sigh, Will returned from his mind and looked his friend in the eye. “If we are going to do this, then I want to make sure you know exactly what you’re doing. The people you’re targeting, what you intend to do with the remains and your plans if I turn on you. I also want your word that you won’t do anything that could put yourself in danger.”
“Anything you desire, Will.” Hannibal smiled widely. “Is there any other concern you would have?”
“Besides the obvious moral and criminal implications of what we’re planning on doing? No, not at all.”
“In the old era, hunting was something to be honored.” Hannibal noted, returning to his plate. “Whether it be animal or enemy. Such a quandary-”
“I want to stay this week. Here. As well.”
Hannibal paused, trying to meet the eye of Will who was reluctant to give it to him. He instead stared at the table, face slightly flushed. He cleared his throat. “I- I uh- feel safer around you. If something goes wrong...”
He let the words trail off, but Hannibal could fill in the words that weren’t said. I want to be close with you.
“I understand. Of course you can stay here, for as long as you want. My door is always open.” This is your home Will, and you will always belong here.
They did not speak out loud after that, finishing their meal in the comfortable silence, thinking about the words they didn’t need to say.
...
Olivia and Thomas Ozai were the children of a long line of wealthy businessmen and women with roots established deep within the foundation of the Maryland government. Three months previously, Hannibal had become aware of their involvement in a trafficking ring bust and how they were both arrested. The news was kept quiet from the public, but the gabbering mouths of bored aristocratic women to old to care about repercussion had informed him that they had been let go without charge, thanks to several wealthy donations from the father of the two towards the judge’s charitable foundations and children’s college funds. They paraded around the galleries of Baltimore, head high with pride at their victory against justice.
Perfect prey. When shown who they would be hunting, Will agreed that they would be suitable. While he put on a facade of hesitation, the glint of excited anticipation was not missed either.
Hannibal spent the next week subtly courting and beguiling Olivia over a private messaging forum, posing as a possible “client” and seeking to find “entertainment” for no small fee. Olivia, though at first hesitant, was easily swayed by the large amount of money offered and remote location that offered protection from prying eyes. A location was set, and Hannibal was promised that both she and her brother would bring a fine courtesan for him to enjoy.
“The “courtesan” is going to be a problem.” Will sighed, looking over Hannibal’s shoulder as he read over the message board. “I don’t want any innocent’s hurt.”
“And none shall be.” Hannibal assured him.
Will let out a doubtful huff, but any other complaints were left to silence.
The moon was bright on the night of the hunt, the tiny sliver of darkness almost a blink away from disappearing. Hannibal felt the flurry of anticipation as he drove his rental car to the pick up sight, his fingers tapping on the wheel and his heart pounding. Never in so many years had he felt this level of thrill when hunting, the act becoming routine and regular. But he was alone then.
The memory of Will bading his goodbyes, his own giddiness barely disguised as they planned to meet later, was still fresh in Hannibal’s mind. His heart thudded harder, and the flush of adrenaline made his head feel dizzy.
Managing to contain his yearning to his inner thoughts, Hannibal pulled up to the parking garage and climbed to the second floor. It was late, the sun just beginning to set, and the garage was almost empty.
There was one vehicle, a red Mercedes with black trim that sat in the darkest corner of the space. Standing outside were three individuals, all staring at him as he approached. When he came closer, he recognized the sneering smiles of the Ozai twins as they waved at him. They were dressed in lush designer clothes, Thomas donning a long overcoat he hung over his shoulders and brandishing a stylish cane and Olivia toting a fox skin jacket. The third individual was dressed well too, but not to the extent of the twins. She had a slim red dress, bright red lipstick and curly blond hair. When Hannibal stopped, she smiled at him but he could see the fear in her eyes.
“Mr. Nicholas?” Thomas asked.
“Yes. I assume you are the brother?” Hannibal asked. When Thomas nodded, he motioned for them to get into the car. “The lady in the front please.”
The Ozai’s exchanged looks, but if they were unhappy they didn’t say anything. Instead they compliantly slid into the back of his car, and the escort made her way into the passenger seat.
Hannibal exited the garage and made his way out of the city, keeping an eye for any police vehicles. In the back seat, Olivia and Thomas were chatting about their “products”, promising him that they would deliver on their “services”. The girl, who they called ‘Red’, was shaking ever so slightly. Her eyes kept flicking to Hannibal, mouth tight in fear.
“Going far out, huh?” Olivia said, leaning forward. The toxic aroma of her raspberry perfume was nauseating, and Hannibal had to casually turn up the AC to keep the scent from filling the front area. “What, don’t do hotels?”
“I have a cabin out in the woods. I prefer a little more privacy and I’ve had a bad experience with hotels.” Hannibal reasoned. He glanced at her in the rear view mirror, eyes crinkling with a false smile he had perfected. “I’m sure a professional like you could understand the desire.”
“Oh perfectly.” Olivia boasted.
Thomas chimed in. “We’ve used a number of private residences in remote locations to cater to our more sensitive clientele.”
“Really, anyone I know?”
“I can’t name names.” Thomas shrugged. But with a smirk, he said, “Let’s just say that Baltimore’s finest isn’t so fine.”
I’ll keep that in mind. Hannibal thought to himself.
When they finally reached the house, the moon had only just begun to rise over the treeline. Hannibal parked the car, and they all piled out. Olivia stuck up her nose. “Not what I was expecting.”
“Can’t draw too much attention to ourselves, can we?” Hannibal looked to the front window, barely catching a figure moving from the shadows. His heart skipped a beat. “Inside is far nicer. Why don’t you two go on ahead, crack some of the champagne I have in the den. We’ll be close behind.”
The twins agreed, stepping ahead to climb the rickety staircase. Hannibal and Red trailed after them, Red holding her arms tight to her chest. When the heels of the two disappeared into the darkness, Hannibal grabbed Red by her arm and stopped.
“What are you-”
“In the car is $4,000 in cash. You are going to take the car and drop it off in whichever state you choose. Return it under Mr. Nicholas. Take the money and run. You were never here, and you never met me. Understand?”
Red gaped for a moment, mouth wide. But when Hannibal lifted the keys to her, she grabbed it quickly and ran to the car without another word. Satisfied, Hannibal turned back to the house and made his way up the steps, the roar of the engine turning on and backing quickly out of the driveway behind him.
Olivia and Thomas were still in the front area, looking around with a mixture of disgust and confusion. They turned when they heard Hannibal shut the door behind him, locking it as he did so.
“Where’s Red?” Thomas asked. Hannibal took off his coat, casually tossing it onto the couch. He noticed the lack of dogs running around, and he reasoned that Will had led them somewhere safe.
“She won’t be necessary tonight.” Hannibal said, rolling up his sleeves.
Thomas tensed. “Look, I don’t know what kind of party you think we’re throwing but we don’t fuck old men.”
“You won’t be participating in that tonight either.” Hannibal chided. He slipped into his back pocket, pulling out a small curved blade.
At the sight of the weapon, Olivia gave a little shriek. She stepped behind her brother as he reached into his waist, grabbing what Hannibal assumed was a gun. He swung it wide, pointing it at Hannibal. “Listen you stupid dum cu-”
The snarling words were cut short by Will moving swiftly from the shadows, knocking into Thomas’s arm and tossing the small pistol out of his hand. Both the twins gasped, taking a few steps back as Will looked them down with intensity.
“What’s going on? Why are you doing this?” Olivia asked, the broken tones of fear cracking her once confidence demeanor. “What do you want from us?”
“I want both of you to start running. Fast.” Hannibal answered plainly. Will lowered his head, attention focused on the two of them. He took a deep breath in, taking in their scent. The twins exchanged fearful glances. Hannibal took a step towards them. “Now.”
They didn’t need telling twice, the two bolting towards the back door as fast as they could go. They burst through the door, Hannibal and Will walking casually after them. They stepped onto the back porch, watching as the two disappeared into the treeline.
As Will stepped into the moonlight, he took a deep breath in. HIs body tensed and Hannibal could almost see the beast inside him reaching out. His breath was slow, eyes almost black as he focused where the two had disappeared. At that moment, Hannibal was sure he was in the presence of ancient power.
“Now.”
In an instant, Will bolted forward. His speed was unnatural, cleaning the space in less than a few seconds. Hannibal ran after him, his own speed faster than most but nothing compared to Wills.
When he entered the treeline, he had lost sight of Will completely. But the loud sound of footsteps and distant screams directed him to the correct direction. His eyes prowled the trees around him, looking at every shifting shadow. His nose caught the distinct smell of raspberry that made his nose sting, leading him veering to the right. He followed his instinct, pace steady as he listened for any odd sounds.
His patience and vigilance was rewarded, the tell tale sound of a twig snapping stopping his pace. He held his breath, tuning his ears to the forest around him. He heard the wind, the rustling leaves above him. The ribbiting tones of distant frogs. And, only a few feet from his stance, the sound of muffled heavy breathing.
Pinpointing the location, Hannibal searched in the darkness. In the brush of the undergrowth, his eyes caught the unmistakable red of an expensive red dress hiding underneath dead foliage.
He tensed, holding the knife tight in his hand. He counted one second. Two. Three. His legs thrusted forward, launching him quickly at the red. A shrill scream and the sound of scrambling met him as Olivia struggled to get away. Hannibal managed to get close to her, trailing behind her as she ran as fast as she could while looking fearfully behind her.
She led him into a clearing, the same one from only a month ago. He caught up to her, shoving her to the ground and getting on top of her. She fought back weakly, tears streaking down her cheeks as her manicured nails scraped across his face. A wail of pain erupted as Hannibal dragged his blade across her hip. Warm blood splattered across his hand, and her nails dragged into his skin harder.
“Olivia!” A call rang out, and Hannibal looked up just in time to see Thomas running towards them. He braced for the impact, but it never came. Swiftly behind him was Will, pounding towards him. He grabbed him by the shoulders, whirling him around and biting down hard on his neck. A gurgling yell erupted, and Olivia cried out.
Will dragged him to the ground, tearing at the throat over and over again. Hannibal was in awe, almost forgetting that his skin was being torn apart. He leaned forward, taking the blade to her open mouth and slicing outward to her right, then her left. The wide smile across her face smeared red across her pale face, blood spitting as she began to choke on crimson.
The final slice was across her throat, the matching wound for her lost twin. Hannibal felt her pulse slow, looking into her eyes as the light of life disappeared. His own breath was hard, the red warmth dripping down his face. He flicked his tongue out, savouring the iron.
In front of him, Will too had finished his carnage. He stood, looking over his kill with blood dripping from his mouth. Thomas was almost unrecognizable, his throat and lower face mangled in a sea of tendon and muscle. Will was breathing hard, his eyes blown with adrenaline and endorphins. He was smiling, wider and freer than Hannibal could have ever imagined.
In that moment, he knew he was deeply and irreversibly in love with Will Graham.
As if alerted to his inner desires, Will turned to look at Hannibal. He glanced down at Olivia, snarling with pleasure at her end.
Hannibal took a step forward, dropping the blade. His blood was running hot, his mind only on Will. But to his displeasure, Will took a step back. Their eyes locked, and Hannibal saw in the black of his eyes that the hunger was not gone. Eyes flicked to the medallion on Hannibal’s chest, as if it were the most disgusting thing on earth.
A terrible thought occurred to Hannibal. He lifted his hands to the necklace.
“Hannibal.” Will warned. “You promised.”
“I’m sorry.” Hannibal only whispered. He tugged hard. The chain broke, and he let the silver fall onto the forest floor.
There was a pause. One that lasted for far too long. Will and Hannibal locked together, staring at each other. Then, Will lunged.
Hannibal only just managed to leap out of the way, turning his back and running as fast as he could towards the house. He heard the snaps of branches breaking and the heavy grunts of Will behind him, chasing with everything he had. Hannibal ran, faster than he ever thought possible. His heart pounded, his mind dizzy and light.
He broke the treeline, streaking across the open field with Will right behind him. He reached the steps, skipping two as his foot landed on the porch. He slowed only for a half second to look behind him. That was enough for him to be knocked to the ground, barely inside the house.
He landed on his back, arms splayed out. Before he could react, Will had climbed on top of him. His hands reached down and tore Hannibal’s shirt open, blood soaks fingers clawing down and piercing his chest. Will lunged down and Hannibal had a flash of worry that perhaps he had made the wrong choice.
Instead of teeth on his neck, however, he was met by Will’s lips on his as he kissed Hannibal hard and fast. It was so sudden, the taste of blood and sweat on his tongue that made his mouth water. A tight hand was threaded into his hair, fingers holding him in place as Will almost tore his mouth apart. Hannibal reached up, gripping Will’s jacket for some kind of stability. He let his mouth be consumed, learning quickly that anything he attempted to do to regain control was met with more dominance.
It was jarring, to say the least. In most of his previous experiences, he had been the one in control. The dominant one. The hunter.
But here, in the threshold of Will’s darkened home, he was at his mercy. At any moment, Will could tear his throat out and be done with him. Take what he wanted from Hannibal, whether or not he complied. Such a sensation was foreign to him and to be this out of control unthinkable. To be like this... it could almost be addicting.
Will pressed himself against Hannibal’s body, a knee slotting into Hannibal’s crotch to rest on Hannibal’s now full erection. He let out a soft gasp, to which Will replaced the lost breath with his tongue. Hannibal savored the slick iron that mingled with the taste of Will, blood and sweat heavens ambrosia. His tongue caught the sharp canines, sliding cautiously across them to feel their bite.
A tearing sound alerted Hannibal that Will had found his shirt far too offensive, and he pulled away briefly to see that the remains of his dress shirt was torn completely off. As he turned his head, Will began to kiss and bite his neck with enthusiasm.
“Will.” Hannibal whispered.
“ Mine. ” A growl, less human, met his pleads. Hands left his scalp, instead reaching below his waist to hold Hannibal flush against him. Hannibal wrapped his legs around Will, far too turned on to worry about dignity. His hands managed to render Will away from his jacket, his fingers reaching under the thin cotton. Under his touch, he could feel his heart beat rapidly like war drums.
Will reached the space between his neck and shoulder, nuzzling his face into the skin. “You are mine . Only mine. Want... want you-”
“You have me.” Hannibal sighed. “I’m yours.”
“ Yes. ” Will growled again. With a roll of his hips, Will widened his mouth and bit down HARD on the tender skin. Pleasure mingled with intense blinding pain suddenly, Hannibal crying out in a scream. He clawed at Will’s chest, breaking skin, but didn’t try to remove himself from Will’s grasp.
Eventually, the pain ebbed away and Will removed his teeth. Blood trickled down Hannibal’s neck and dripped on the floor. He looked up, staring at the red stain grin above him. He caught his eye, seeing the pupils blow so that his eyes seemed almost black. Raised above him, his essence in his mouth, Hannibal was sure that Will was the closest thing to God he could ever experience. Feral, maddening, and demanding of worship.
The next few minutes were a blur of skin and teeth, fabric and sweat. At one point, Hannibal became keenly aware that he was being picked up and taken to the bedroom. But the furious passion that Will attacked his lips with kept his mind preoccupied. It wasn’t until his back felt soft blankets that he realized what devotion Will would be demanding from him.
“Will.” Hannibal sighed into his mouth. “Are you sure we-”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Will growled. “I’ve been sure for months. Just as sure as you’ve been.”
“I-”
“I could smell it on you.” Will didn’t stop, hands reaching down to Hannibal’s cock and gripping it tightly. He stroked steadily, breathing out Hannibal’s sins in pace with his pleasure. “The stink of arousal. It clings to you, every time we’ve been together. I dream of it, it’s stained my mind. It's taken all my effort not to rip you apart and consume you whole.”
“ Mylimasis. ”
“No more waiting.” Will twisted his hand, sending shivers up Hannibal’s arm. “No more hiding. I’m tired. And I need you, Hannibal. I need you now. ”
With Will’s gospel more divine than any holy book, Hannibal moaned and widened his hips almost instinctively. With a feral grin, Will slipped his hands down from Hannibal’s cock to graze along the ring of muscle that felt so wonderful under his weathered hands. Hannibal’s mind briefly flashed to the idea of lubricant, but it seems that Will had already thought this far ahead. As he messaged the area, teetering the edges between pleasure and unhinged need, Will leaned over to reach under his pillow. He returned with a small bottle, half empty already.
With careless speed, Will spread it across his fingers and returned to Hannibal’s ass. Wasting no time, Will pressed beyond the ring of muscles with two fingers. The sweet sensation of pain forced a hiss through his teeth, the sudden stretch nothing short of ecstasy. The feral madness taking Will seemed pleased, his fingers unrelenting in their mission. When they brushed against Hannibal’s prostate, he felt his eyes cross and mind go white.
“ Yeees. ” Will hissed. He focused his attention on that sensitive treasure, and Hannibal began to tremble from the decadent waves that never seemed to end. He had never felt so powerless, under the spell of someone who could tear him apart with nothing more than more than two of his digits. And yet-
“Will. I need more. Please.” Hannibal pleaded.
The feral grin grew as Will withdrew, slicking his length with fervent speed. He wasted no time aligning himself to Hannibal, pressing in with a sudden slowness that stung with pain and anticipation. It was almost like there sadistic and mangled pleasure for Will as he took his time, watching with hunter’s focus at the reactions he elicited.
When he at last bottomed out, Hannibal let out a satisfied sigh. But any relief he might have savoured was swiftly soured as Will returned to the ravenous pace he had maintained before with a quick thrust of his hips. The small space filled with the sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other, heavy panting and the pleasured moans from both men as they fell into each other in the most primal of ways. Hannibal's mind fell into a blissful whiteness that reminded him of static, his body falling into an almost natural pace with the beast on top of him.
Will himself seemed lost as well, any semblance of thought reduced down to grunts and groans as he licked and bit any surface of Hannibal’s skin he could reach. He had no pattern, no steady pace or any measure of restraint and patients. He was seeking his pleasure, using Hannibal as his means to an end.
In this fevered pace, the coil in Hannibal’s get began to tighten and he could feel himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. Will gave no indication of halting or faltering, his broken words that could have been hymns constant and breathy. A clawed hand dragged down Hannibal’s leg, breaking skin to draw blood.
“Will, I’m-” Hannibal cried out. There was no need to finish his confession, Will driving his teeth into the soft skin on his shoulder in a mark of ownership as his hips pushed in one final time. The fiery heat of Will finishing pushed Hannibal over the edge, coming untouched. Tears of pained pleasure leaked from his eyes but it went unnoticed, the mixture of sweat and saliva blending together in a cacophony of filth.
As the panting began to slow, Will fell on top of Hannibal in an ungraceful fwump . He remained inside him, shifting slightly so that it wasn’t totally uncomfortable. The wound on Hannibal’s shoulder still bled, but the pain had ebbed away. Exhaustion crawled from behind his mind, his eyes falling heavy with the desire of sleep. He shifted slightly, but halted when he heard a low growl from Will’s throat.
“Stay.” He muttered, gripping his shoulder tight. His voice was hazy and slurred but the possessiveness was not lost.
Hannibal smirked, settling back in. “Always, mano vilkas .”
From the window above the bed, the moon shone bright.
...
Hannibal awoke the next morning sore, the smell of coffee and the chill of an empty bed greeting him. He rose slightly, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. The sun was high above the treeline, shining down on the enthusiastic pack of dogs running around the yard. It was perfectly domestic.
Footsteps heading towards the bedroom drew Hannibal’s attention and he turned his head to see Will stepping into the room with a coffee cup and plate of food in his hands. His hair seemed tangled and unkempt, the dark bags under his eyes more pronounced, and his steps seemed strained. But he had a faint grin on his face, the glint of sharp canines peeking from soft lips.
“Morning.” He said, last night's strength had faded into his typical soft spoken nature. He sat across from Hannibal, awkwardly handing him the dishes. His eyes fell on the wound on Hannibal’s neck, and his lips tightened. “I uh- I wasn’t sure if last night was real.”
“It was.” Hannibal said, taking a sip from the coffee and trying not to grimace from the taste. “And I don’t want you to apologise for it.”
“I wasn’t. You were the idiot that took off the medallion.” Will berated, furrowing his brow. “I warned you about what might happen.”
“Then forgive me for tempting fate. But I don’t regret it.” Hannibal set down the abhorrent brew, taking Will’s hand into his own. “You are more heavenly than I could have ever imagined. Everything you are is wondrous and incredible. I would never regret what happened last night.”
Pink flushed to Will’s cheek and ears, but he did not recoil from Hannibal’s grip. “Even the bite?”
“Of course not.” Hannibal assured him, but paused. “I won’t- It’s not like the stories right? I won’t-”
“No!” Will said suddenly. “At least, I don’t think so? It wasn’t like... a breeding thing. It just felt right. Knowing that you had my mark.”
“How possessive.”
“You're the one to talk.”
“Fair enough.” Hannibal laughed. He glanced over his shoulder at the sky. “How are you feeling. Tonight’s the full moon, right?”
Will’s lazy smile fell into a grimace. “It is. If last night was dangerous, then tonight will be worse. I don’t think you should stay.”
“Will.” Hannibal whispered, taking Will’s hand and pulling him. He rested his forehead against one another, breathing him in. “Whatever happens. Whoever you are. I will trust you to never hurt me. Please. Let me see you.”
“Hannibal.” Will sighed, his voice torn between want and pleading. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling slightly. “You are too curious for your own good.”
“Would you have me any different?”
“For my sanity? Perhaps.” Will admitted. He gave a deep sigh, frustrated. “You can stay, but you can’t leave the house.”
“Of course, my love.” Hannibal took small pleasure in the short gasp that Will gave from the endearment. He ran a hand through Will’s hair, feeling the curls tangle under his fingers. He brought him in for a kiss, taking his time as he held Will in his hands. Across his lips, Hannibal whispered “Would you indulge me in spending the morning in bed?”
“If you don’t like the coffee, just say so.” Will laughed.
“It tastes like dirt.” Hannibal lamented, pulling Will down with him.
...
The day bled on as most Sundays spent in bed do, with little care beyond basic desires. It was easy for Hannibal, allowing himself to fall into the domestic lifestyle he thought alien to him. Working in the kitchen, keeping Will company and stealing his kisses when he felt the desire. The sky morphed from a bright blue into delicate oranges and pinks, the hours leading into a purple twilight.
When it came time for the moon to shine, Hannibal found himself standing in the doorway of the homestead, looking at Will with reverence as he awaited the luminous call.
When the first rays of moonlight broke down upon the weary man, Hannibal watched as his form hunched. His height grew, his shoulder blades jutting out as his clothes tore from the strain. His long curled black hair morphed into dark matted fur, spreading out across his shape. Fingers twisted into long claws, nose extending into a snout and teeth growing into sharp points. As the transformation slowed, the beast that is Will howled into the sky. The haunting call seeped into Hannibal’s soul, sending shivers up his spine.
The beast turned slightly, observing Hannibal with an animal’s glare. Fear spiked in his heart but he felt heavenly. Privileged. An acolyte.
Will turned and ran, chasing the moon into the forest. Hannibal stayed, as he always would, in the temple of his beast.