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Mark me not a Savage

Chapter Text

It all started with that letter. Will knew who had sent it the moment he saw the simple white envelope on the kitchen table, right where Molly always left his mail. It was the handwriting that made it unmistakable. It was that of either an eighteenth century nobleman, the Queen of England herself, or Hannibal. He snatched it off the table with one hand, creasing the paper under tightly clenched fingers and hid it in the most discrete brown envelope he could find, as if to quell the thick, silken voice he heard inside his head every time he saw his name written in that hand, as real as whispering lips against his ear. He then shoved it into the drawer of the dresser in his bedroom. Their bedroom. Molly and his. It was out of sight, away from Molly's eyes and away from his. Never, however, away from his mind.

He opened it on a quiet Sunday morning, almost three sleepless nights after it first arrived. Molly and Wally had gone to visit Molly's mother and with the house all to himself, he'd decided that the heavy weight of Hannibal's grip on him, even now, was something only he, himself could end. And he would end it. He would read the letter so he would never have an excuse to wonder what it might have said. He would then burn it, both the message and the memories. And he would keep trying, like these past couple of years, to forget who he had been when he was with Hannibal. And how it had made him feel.

He took the envelope, sat down on the edge of his bed and felt the cheap, prison paper under his fingers. His joints faltering momentarily, crackling when he turned the envelope in his hand, and his skin prickling at the touch. Nerves, he thought, not without shame. He cut along the seam with his sterling silver letter opener, shaped like a miniature sword, and touched the paper inside. Thicker, this, more his usual style. He pulled it up between his thumb and index finger, out of the surrounding envelope, and almost dropped it when he felt an unfamiliar singe burning under his skin. Like a restless army of ants, painless, but odd. His hands shook when he folded the paper and read his name. Dear Will, it said. Dear Will.

An imaginary fist tightened in his chest and his damp fingers pressed into the thick, ivory paper, undoubtedly marking it with his prints. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat and closed his eyes. Dear Will. He could still see the words, written in the curly elegance of Hannibal's hand, burning behind his eyelids. He breathed deeply through his nose to try and calm the unsteady flutter of his heart. A deep breath. One that penetrated his nostrils like a liquid, a smothering sting he felt intruding behind his eyes.

One. Deep. Breath.

And then it took him.

There was rush of something deep and dark, spreading from his chest to the tip of every branching vein. He smelled the smell of campfire in a winter night sky, streaming up his dusty nostrils. He felt the touch of dark, icy water – just below the surface of a stream, untouched by the sun– and it woke his numb, clammy skin. He saw a chapel made of ancient bones, chandeliers made out of human skulls, and he heard a choir of the sweetest, most fragile voices that echoed against the rooftop dome. And then he felt the pain.

Will doubled over when he felt a violent, wrenching fist yanking at his insides, like a fishhook had embedded itself right behind his pelvis. He cried out in shock, as he rolled to the side of the bed, trembling violently on the unmade sheets and folding his arms tightly around his middle like a wounded animal protecting its vitals. He whimpered quietly, as he felt lashing flames licking viciously on his insides and kept himself still, soaked with cold sweat within minutes. He was shaking and panting like a dying fish, caught, as he clenched his teeth at the ripping sensation behind his abdomen. His loins were on fire, screaming and burning and yearning, gagging and binding him with intensity. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could only let the cruel burn of hell spread through his body limb by limb, bone by bone, hair by hair. Will lay there, unmoving, wondering if he was waiting for death.

Molly found him like that when she came home hours later, and helped him out of his wet clothes and under the covers. The scorching torment had numbed itself to a whiny ache that seeped deep into his marrow. “Should I call a doctor?” she asked. Will didn't like doctors. Not anymore. “No,” he said, feeling his damp skin shivering against the cold air, while inside he was still burning hot, hot, hot. “It's probably just the flu.”

She saw the letter on the floor, abandoned, but not forgotten. “Is this yours?” she asked, and he clenched his teeth to stop the sudden flash of helpless anger that boiled, instantly and unprepared, from underneath his lungs and threatened to spill. She had no right to see it. No right. “Put it on the nightstand,” he said from between his locked jaw, short and curt. It was the best he could do. She did, and then she left the room, and for reasons unexplained he felt she had taken a thick, strangling smoke away with her.

He touched the letter again when he felt like he could properly breathe. He smelled it, felt the thick paper on his skin, carefully this time. There was no sense to why he would, why this was a risk he was willing to take, but the option not to do it had simply vanished from his scourged and scattered brain. Something savage lashed out from within and drew claws against his pink insides as he smelled the fire, felt the water, leaving no more than an ache this time. And he read the letter. Again. Again. Again. The feel, the smell, the words, they hurt. They hurt more and more every time he read it. But there was something else this time. That edge, small, but present, that filled a place inside him that he never knew existed, with a marble of delirious, concentrated pleasure amongst all that pain. And when he put away the letter, folded it and hid it in the drawer, the song died out, and there was nothing but an intense yearning. A longing so maddening he wished to dig it out of himself with his bare fingernails. A need for something he didn't even understand.

That night, he didn't sleep. There was a swelling in his throat, beneath his jaw, that kept him awake. Swollen glands, nothing odd for a flu, but they itched and ached and pressed against his skin so hard that he couldn't stop touching them. His ears caught the sound of traffic down the far away road. His nose smelled the lingering odor of the fish Molly had cleaned for dinner and the stench of his bottle of aftershave, hidden in the dresser. He had never noticed such things before.

The oddest thing, perhaps, was the amount of sweat that seemed to steadily pour inside his boxers. A thick fluid of which he could not explain the consistency. A slick, clear sort of secretion that clung to his fingers and had the smell of pine cones in early fall mixed with the musky scent of a male body. The whole room was starting to smell like it, and it made that tormenting ache pulse harder and louder in that empty, empty spot inside of him. He clenched his ass once, around nothing, wondering why it suddenly felt like that was unwanted. He squirmed unhappily against the mattress and rolled onto his belly. Oh, and there was that. He now seemed to be in an almost permanent state of semi-arousal, with his dick half-hard against his belly and asking for attention that he instinctively knew wouldn't satisfy him. Molly had noticed when she came to bed and had simply rubbed her hand over his upper leg without any other intentions. But the touch alone had made him roll away as his stomach only clenched harder. No. He didn't know why, but his body seemed to scream it. No.

When the sun rose early morning, none of the aches had eased within him, but he got up anyway and distracted himself with everyday life. “Don't you want your glasses?” Molly asked him when he was reading the morning paper. No. No, he didn't. His eyes seemed to be... they seemed to be fine, really. It was odd, very odd, but not odd enough for him to search for answers when he had so many other things to occupy his mind. The slick, thick sweat that forced him to change his underwear about four times a day, for example. The persistent fiery heat in his lower region. Everything around him seemed so sharp, so loud, yet very, very far away. Words had never flown that easily, but grunting was most of what he did now. And the aversion when Molly, his lovely Molly, touched his arm or kissed his cheek... He didn't talk to her about it. He silently hoped it would simply pass if he just ignored it, but the only thing his mind could focus on was the fire that burned and squirmed in the pit of his belly, and Hannibal's letter in the drawer.

Jack came, like the letter had predicted, and Will wanted to tell him to go away, never come back. He wanted to punch him right between his smug eyes, threaten him and warn him to never, ever come near his family again. But he didn't, because apart from his mysterious, physical predicament, there was one persistent thought that poked him, stabbed him, gorged him every breathing second since he had opened that letter.

Hannibal's letter. The Tooth Fairy's case. Jack wanted him to go. Molly wanted him to go. Hannibal had asked him not to. And Will, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to. He couldn't go.
He had to go. He had to go. He had to. Had to. Had to. HAD. TO. GO.

Will shot up from his pillow that night and quickly padded to the bathroom wihtout making a light. He ran icy water over his burning face for the fifth time that night and stared at the red rims around his bloodshot eyes. He had to go. Why didn't matter. He had to go back to Baltimore.

Chapter Text

Baltimore State hospital for the criminally insane. He walked past security, pockets checked for sharp objects, and suddenly he could breathe a little easier. His chest expanded, decreasing the pressure around his ribs while simultaneously feeling a sensation behind his pelvis, aching and pleasant at once, like someone was tightening a cord along his loins. He swallowed and continued walking, barely noticing the familiar walls that had once been his own residence.

These past days had been about traveling, crime scenes and empty hotel rooms. He had sat on a queen size bed with his cock in his hand, stroking half-heartedly as his body told him no, no, no, this is not enough. Tucked in bed, he had stared at his phone, letting fingers hover over Molly's name on the screen before giving up. His head hadn't been with him during any of it, tucked away deep inside himself, living in a state of trance. It was as if his body and mind had unknowingly decided that something like a murder scene, a whole family murdered in their beds, wasn't worth his effort anymore. His work and his wife, too, not in range with the unfocused, spasming bulk of deranged, internal energy within him. That thought was devastatingly not as devastating as it ought to be. Truth be told, it barely existed.

When he'd arrived, he had done what was expected of him, but with an honesty that sounded nothing like him, he admitted to himself he wasn't here for the case. The Tooth fairy. The families. They were never more than half a second on his mind. He had visited the house, saw the corpses, smelled the blood. And how strongly he could smell it. Reconstructing the scene was mere minutes of work. In fact, he had never been faster. But he wasn't here for that, could barely bring himself to concentrate. He was sending out radio-waves in another direction, following after them, and even though he wasn't sure what it was exactly that he was here for, his mind pounded on him from a place beyond his understanding.

He was now permanently wet between his thighs and no matter how often he touched his own body in the lonely room of his hotel, it didn't bring any relief to his aching bones, the madness in his mind. He could keep going and going, like a touch starved teenager with a lock on his door, but it didn't silence the restless craving that simmered in his belly, deep inside his core. The letter he had promised to burn was in the inside pocket of his jacket, humming an imaginary, warm song against his chest. He hadn't been able to part with it, feeling its presence was a gentle caress to the restless, pushing ache in his mind. It felt like the one thing that grounded him, and stopped him from drifting outside the gravity of his body. Anchoring him to a single place. Every step, every breath, every movement pulsing the same thought against the stem of his brain. Baltimore State hospital. Baltimore State hospital. Baltimore fucking State hospital.

Hannibal was there. Yes, of course he knew that. It wasn't an afterthought, he knew it was him he needed to see. That it wasn't about the case. Not about the stupid case. But what that reason was, he couldn't seem to verbalize or give shape inside his head. Every time he thought of him, even briefly, even just his name, his mind howled in violent desperation, ripping at him and shaking his bones to the roots of his teeth.

The question why remained unanswered, didn't matter. All he knew was Hannibal was the reason his mind was clawing against his skull like a caged, rabid chimpanzee. He had to see him, he knew it with every fiber in his being. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. No, actually, he was definitely sure he didn't want to see the man. He hadn't forgotten all that had passed between them. He hadn't worked so hard these past years to move on to a normal life, with a normal family. But it wasn't a conscious decision. He had to see him, had to, had to, had to – really, really had to. The thought just clawed and scratched and dug with bloody fingernails until the choice was no longer a choice.

Jack had agreed to it, fast. Will knew he had hoped for things to take this turn from the moment their eyes had met in the snow outside his house. He wanted Will's empathic brain on the case, but Hannibal's intimate knowledge of a true serial killer's mind. No imagination needed. Front row seats, so to speak. And he knew that Will, of all people, had the fairest chance to get such information out of the notorious cannibal. When they met at the entrance of the stretched hallway, Jack handed Will the case file, who then took it with clammy, flexing hands. The file. Sweat rolled down his back beneath his shirt as they walked down the long corridor. Will's mind seemed to spiral in and out of the thick, hot fog that smothered the memory of why he was here in the first place. The case. The file. The family. He swallowed hard against his swollen glands. Alana Bloom was head of the hospital now, Jack informed him, and they would stop by her office before he could make the visit. Will nodded, barely registering. Visit Alana Bloom. Visit Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal.

Alana shook his hand. A warmth that had always accompanied her eyes seemed lost behind something hard, impenetrable, like a film of glass. He hardly noticed. He hardly noticed anything about her. Not the sharp suit, the walking cane against her desk, the dried purple felt pen stains against her wrist that spoke of a young child's coloring. He would have noticed all these things and more, merely days before. Now he watched past those glass eyes with a clouded stare as the three chatted stiffly yet politely amongst each other. Jack took an uninvited seat in one of the two visitors' chairs and Alana followed as she lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. Will sat, staring at a blank spot on the wall as he heard them discussing the Tooth fairy case, the murdered families and then, for some reason, the prison's new air conditioning system. He heard the words, felt them passing by and watched them going down the drain of his mind. Will's fingers flexed next to his body. His nails dug into his palms. Being here, it seemed to hurt him less, but it ached so much more. There was a thrumming inside him, coming from the depth of his bones and beating like an African drum in a rhythm his body wanted to surrender to. He needed to go, go, go, go.

“When am I going in?” he blurted, interrupting Alana mid-sentence as he perched up on the edge of his seat. There was a stunned silence and a quick exchange of pointed looks between Jack and Alana. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in what seemed to be a fine mix of surprised and irritated concern. A lovely range of emotions that surpassed Will completely. Maybe his behavior was indeed more unsuitable than usual, but Will thought only of what was ahead of him as he felt a tickling trickle of slick sliding down his inner thigh. He must have looked sick, flushed and unsteady as drops of sweat clung to the tips of his unkempt curls, but if anyone noticed, no one mentioned it. They would label the ripe circles under his arms as nerves. Awkwardness had always accompanied him, after all.

“Almost,” Alana said after seconds had ticked away, a pinch of authoritative distance in her tone. “It takes about 20 minutes to air-seal Hannibal's room completely.” Will heard the name penetrating the thick fog in his mind and it cleared the path of his hazy attention span. His ear peaked like a dog's hearing a can opener. “Air-seal?” he said, his voice ringing hoarse and loud against concrete walls. “Why?” his eyes shot restlessly between Alana and Jack, seeing them clearly for the first time since his arrival. His feet bounced against the floor and his hands grabbed the armrests tight. Alana shrugged, unaware of the odd eagerness before her. “Precaution,” she said with a light shake of her head. “Lecter is a thoroughbred Alpha and we are required by law to protect him and ourselves from any spikes in his hormones. We can't take any risks, even with Beta's.”

Will's breathing had stopped, but he only realized when the world started to sway before his eyes. There was one thing that spiraled in his mind, words on a roundabout, coming back and back and back again, like a tape being rewound and played continuously. Lecter is a thoroughbred Alpha. Lecter is a thoroughbred Alpha. Lecter is....Alpha....Alpha. Alpha. He's an Alpha.

“The air he breathes is from a filtered air conduct and every opening, like the transition holes in the glass, are sealed off. He can communicate through the microphones we have installed in his room. We usually don't bother with all this when it's just the staff, but we can't take risks with visitors.”

Will's thighs trembled at the effort to stop himself from... from... from inexplicably crying out, howling, like some sort of animal. He bit his lip against a whimper that pushed up in his throat. “You have to do this every time someone visits Dr. Lecter?” Jack asked Alana from behind his coffee cup. Her lips twitched, nodding unenthusiastically at the Special Agent. “It's standard procedure worldwide now,” she said, “ever since an Alpha visited a very deranged Beta inmate in 1984, who presented Omega on the spot. She had to be released to the Alpha, by law. It was a mess.” - “A mess indeed,” Jack hummed affirmatively without revealing if he had been aware of said event. Alana glanced at her wristwatch. “Luckily Hannibal is the only presented inmate we have here,” she commented offhandedly, winding up the little clock with two long fingernails.

Neither of them noticed the thick vein pulsing in Will's neck. Neither of them saw the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and swallowed again against something insubstantial. Neither of them noticed his red-rimmed, searching eyes, his twitching lips, opening and closing, dry against the office air. “H-Hannibal is an alpha?” he choked, barely audible to himself over the wild beating of the blood in his ears. “Oh yes,” Alana nodded, raising an eyebrow as if the notion of it was merely irritating. Jack too, seemed unfazed. It must have been front page news once, years ago. “He hid it well, didn't he? None of us knew,” Alana's voice was laced with a menace now, an offense. She had shared his bed, she had shared his food, his house, his life. It had all been a facade.

Will felt a flare of hot madness thinking about it as the thick fog became a blazing, battering blizzard. He pushed his nails even deeper into his palms until he felt hot blood dripping onto his flesh. “It all makes so much sense in hindsight, of course,” Jack added, draining his coffeecup. “The heightened senses, the strength and speed, his intellect. We should have seen the signs, if it hadn't been so rare.” Jack looked to his left, where Will was a sweating, trembling mess of man. He guessed he'd looked that way too many times before, for them to notice. “What do you know about Alpha's and Omega's, Will?” Jack asked, and Will shook his head, straining the tense muscles of his neck. “Next to nothing. Text book stuff,” he said, voice tight and eyes growing wider, wilder in his head.

“Well, at least you know of their existence, then,” Jack said, unwittingly aloof. Will nodded, once, and again, and again, like a nervous tick. He had learned something about them, in Biology, 20 years ago. “It is an extremely rare occurrence,” Alana followed, eyeing the tapping fingers against his knees and undoubtedly filing it under the nervousness Will would understandably feel about seeing his old psychiatrist. Will, he had no idea anymore where to file this. “He has been an Alpha all this time?” he said with his voice too high-pitched, and Alana nodded. “Alpha's present in their preteens. Omega's used to present in their early twenties, when they are most fertile, but these days they often only present when they meet a compatible mate, and if they are physically and mentally in the right state.”

“Which is usually not at all, which is why it's a dying breed,” Jack added, turning his attention to Alana at her desk. “Did you know the male Omega can present even as late as 50 years old, because their infertility makes their age irrelevant?” She tilted her head and a flicker of amusement washed over her pretty features. “You did your homework,” she noted and Jack sighed with tightened lips. “I promised myself I would never make a mistake about these things again. There is no book on the subject that hasn't passed my hands, I assure you,” he said. None of them noticed Will had started to grind his teeth, staring a hole through the coffee table.

A beep of a phone, and a glance at the screen. “He's ready,” Alana announced as she lifted herself from her leather chair. Her movements were still awkward as her hips did not automatically rotate with the rest of her body. Will didn't notice. He was caught in steaming tunnel vision, following after Jack as his hands rested on his inner pocket, over the letter. Jack picked up the thick paper file from the desk, forgotten, and handed it to Will. He took it with unsteady fingers, sogging the paper with wet prints. “If he wants to help us, show this to Dr. Lecter,” he said and Will nodded, shallow and fast, too many times. They walked through a long corridor where Will felt his heart jumping higher with every step, and the illness in his bones faded into the background of his mind.

“Dr. Bloom,” Jack broke through the silence. “Can Will still hand Dr. Lecter the file, if the room is sealed?” Alana huffed, close to a chuckle, as she walked fairly steadily, if not fast, without her cane. “If he agrees to help, which I sincerely doubt,” she said, cockily running her tongue behind her teeth. Jack's jaw clenched, but his voice remained steady. “Even so...” he said and Alana inhaled through her nose. “Yes. The deposit box is still open. Will and Hannibal already know each other – all too well, I might add – so I'm willing to take that risk.”

Will didn't look up at the sneer she barely hid behind her casual remark. Not deliberately. He hadn't even heard it, to be fair. There was a pulse in his chest, a beat, a lifeline, something he was following after. “Good,” Jack nodded and they arrived at the last of the doors, there were five between her office and Hannibal. All she had to do now, was unlock it.

“Remember what we talked about, Will. And don't forget the file,” Jack hissed in his ear, tapping fingers against the papers in his hand. He didn't remember what they talked about. He didn't even remember talking. A guard gave him more instructions about staying away from the glass, not accepting anything Hannibal offered him, and other words that seemed to slide against the shell of his ear before bouncing off like water on oil. “Yes. Yes, I understand,” he murmured in every direction and the key clicked in the look. The door opened before him. Without anyone accompanying him, he stepped forward into the room and breathed.

Oh, how he could suddenly breathe.

Chapter Text

The room was large, glass and wood and artificial light. Rows and rows of books in between the outlines of a closed fireplace. All white and gold and hardwood flooring. Will's eyes moved fast, restless, as they darted around the restricted space in the tunnel that still closed tightly around his vision. Those crawling ants beneath his heated skin marched up over his spine, down his arms and fingers, over the sensitive flesh of his throat. His nostrils flared when he smelled it, vague but so familiar, weakening and wakening alike, like a siren to a stranded sailor. The craving inside him churned like a heavy, solid gear, roaring and clunking pitifully beneath his bones. And then he saw him.

He was turned away from him, facing the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back. Pale gray prison suit, short hair, shoulders broad and tense. Uncharacteristically so. He was unmoving, waiting, but turned when Will's feet lead him closer to the glass, drawn by an almost tangible pull. Their eyes met, and Will's lungs filled like those of a drowning man. He saw the eyes of a golden tiger gleaming at him from the other side of the cage and felt alive, blooming, awake in every cell. That hint of fire and winter night, it was enough to ease the cruel fist that held such a firm grip on his ribcage. He looked at Hannibal and felt a sudden stream of something light and soothing, like balm on gentle fingertips, behind his burning, aching face, down his neck, around his throat, cleansing the pain and ache that burned painfully inside his bones. A fire that seeped low, lower, behind his pelvis. He looked at Hannibal and saw him, breathing, watching, unblinking with tiny drops of sweat on his light brow. It was a warm embrace. A spring in the desert, locking eyes with him.

“Hello Dr. Lecter,” Will said, air tight in his throat as his chest rose and fell almost mechanically behind his drenched shirt. Hannibal blinked, not once, but two, three times, and eyes that usually gleamed steadily like gems were now shifting, restless in their sockets. His lips parted, his breathing shallow. “Hello Will,” he said, and heat shot straight to Will's core when his ears caught the familiar timbre that came to him through the speakers. He hadn't heard it in a long time, but not once had he forgotten what that velvet tongue sounded like, curled around his name. A small noise arose from the back of his throat, but Will forced it down and watched how the hairs on Hannibal's neck stood erect against his tightened skin. His fingers searched his jumpsuit for something undefined – anything, really – twitching against the fabric before settling against the palm of his hand, pressing nails into flesh. Will remembered his equally mangled hands from his own restraint.

“So...” Will swallowed as he stepped closer to the glass, in search for guidance. Jack had asked him to come here, and now he was. The case, the file, they needed to discuss the file. His hand clenched around the dry, sharp paper but through the glass, their eyes never wavered, meeting and mingling. Ocean and land. Will shuddered, weakened by desire and a scorching heat that coiled around him like a deadly snake. Far away in his mind, he heard the choir sing. The beautiful, fragile voices. In that same mind, he saw himself throwing away his murdering restraint, and destroying this torturous wall with a tank.

They had to talk, it was to be expected. Some banter about their unfortunate pasts perhaps, or endless dance steps around the subject of the case in the form of poetic riddles. Maybe even some double entandres about Will's current life, with his family. It didn't happen. Will looked at Hannibal, feeling tight and hot and far, far away, and Hannibal looked back. Will's words were lost, beyond the mist that fogged his mind in hazy clouds. They both stood, facing each other with strained shoulders, as if resisting against a hand pushing on their backs. Bound by an invisible rope, winding tighter and tighter, glass or no.

Will took a short breath and rose the file in his shaky hand. The Tooth fairy case. The families. “J-Jack said you have to look at this file,” he said, his voice coming from a place far away from himself as he stared helplessly back into Hannibal's unblinking eyes. He was static, hard tension underneath his prison suit and Will noticed the sight of bulging muscles under the strained fabric. He shuddered and a small, restrained sound escaped Will from behind closed lips. Hannibal did blink then, repeatedly, before he took a deep breath and expanded his ribcage. “Yes,” he said, pushing out extra air through his lungs with his answer. His eyed were wide, his lips tight and his brow furrowed deeply atop his eyes as he, too, seemed surprised by his own, pliant answer. Will blinked, unmoving in silence before he cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, equally lost and dazed as he squeezed the file between his fingers.

Their eyes were never off one another, but after another pregnant pause where facing each other and breathing seemed a hard enough task to accomplish, he gestured to the deposit box present in the door of his cell. Will's eyes followed, quickly, before looking back at Hannibal. His lips parted, running his tongue against dry skin as Hannibal swallowed behind the glass. They moved as one, slow, deliberate, and without losing eye-contact as they stepped to the deposit box between them.

Hannibal nodded once and Will touched the handle, opened the little door and placed the soggy file inside it. It fell from his unsteady hands, to lie there in the tiny barrier between them. Hannibal blinked again, and Will pushed it shut and forwards, into the cell.

Hannibal stood on the other side, watching him as the file fell on his side of the box, and as if in slow motion, reached to open the door and grab the file before the box closed and turned to open on Will's side of the room.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Will felt buried, like being slammed down and pulverized by an unforgiving avalanche. Everything he had felt, dreamed, if was here. He felt the spark of the roaring campfire against his nostrils, the brush of winter air against his cheeks and the cold stream of icy water high around his thighs. He heard the choir sing and the bones of the chapel rattle inside his mind. All his life he had been so utterly lost, in the world and inside his own mind. Now he was home, home, home. From the roots of his hair to the marrow in his bones.

The slick between his ass wet his seat as it seeped endlessly against his inner thighs. His scent glands pushed against the skin of his throat, swelling and itching under his reddening skin. But more than that, he felt a clenching, searching ache of desperate need and howling want inside his empty, pulsing insides. His body felt open, unfulfilled and unprotected. Cold, despite the unbearable heat in his loins, and fragile between the hard glass and stone surrounding him. He shook his shoulders and a whimper escaped from between his lips.

A deafening howl pierced the room and pierced Will through solid bones and muscles. His head shot up as he staggered on his feet, searching Hannibal with barely-seeing eyes. He was there, on the other side of the glass, even if he barely recognized him anymore. The hair on Hannibal's neck was upright like that of a wild, dangerous animal, and his sharp teeth were bared behind viciously curled lips. His prison suit spanned tight around his bulging, expanding muscles and his eyes were blood red around the rim. Veins pulsed purple, hands clenched into fists and one shoulder was trashing mercilessly into the glass walls that separated them. The shockwaves of each impact reached his ears, failing to translate into sound as Will became consumed by the emptiness within him. He whined deep in his throat in a desperate answer to the ravenous man on the other side, who growled continuously, loud and wild with flaring nostrils. He was an animal, savage and caged and the noise went straight inside Will, from his ear down to his high-pitched fire in his lower abdomen. Before he knew what was happening, a howl clawed its way up from deep inside him as he stepped to the glass and pressed himself against the hard, cool wall that thumped with every one of Hannibal's efforts to damage it. Will didn't stop, the howl in his throat only became lower and Hannibal grew wilder until there was no white left in the whites of his eyes.

They touched their hands to the glass and clawed desperately at the barrier that separated them, no longer ocean and earth but blood meeting blood as their veins popped and overran their uncontrolled eyes. Will let out the most pitiful whimper when their skin failed to meet and Hannibal reached for a chair to bash it into the glass. Not even a shard, not even a dent, and Will whined against the wall, fogging it with his breath,

Hands landed on his shoulders, around his waist, and before Will could register anything else, he was dragged off by strong guards' arms and out of the room. Hannibal's outraged howl became a pained one, tortured, burning. It was unbearable to hear, and Will's answering wail only grew louder as he struggled viciously against the hold on his body. They were taking him away from Hannibal. Away from Hannibal. “Get him to Medical,” Alana's voice sounded nearby, distressed. More arms. Lifting his legs. He snarled as he was carried off, feeling a sickening ache growing heavy inside him with every step away from the cell.

**

Will wasn't sure if he had lost consciousness, but everything around him seemed to come from far away. The sound and the colors reached him in a muted state, like a wall had been placed around his head. People moved around him, touched him, talked over his head, as he lay on a bed in a sterile white room. Leather cuffs were tight around his wrists and ankles, restraining him as he looked at the world around him with skittish eyes and a permanent snarl around his lips. He tugged restlessly, relentlessly, drenched in sweat and slick and spit that formed in the corner of his mouth like foam. There was pain, an unbearable itch inside his flesh, an ache that tortured him with stings like biting bugs right on the nerves, so bad he wanted to scratch at the skin until it would come away in chunks. The echoes of voices against the thick, windowless walls of the room reached him like he was under water, lost in blue green flickers of light against the lids of is eyes. He was shaking, moving, shifting against the bedding as a man with a white coat stood by his bed and talked to faces that looked like Jack, Alana, prison guards.

“He is in heat,” the white-coated doctor said, helplessly running old hands through short, silver hair. Will heard commotion around him and he hissed at the shapeless sounds. “How?”Alana implored, eyes wide and lips open around the vowel as she used her arms as punctuation, with no intention of hiding her outrage. The doctor shook his head, fast and shallow, wiping wet palms on his clean coat. “Mr. Graham has presented Omega.” There was an uproar of disbelieving shouts and curses that followed around him. “Omega.” He had presented Omega. It seemed like something important that he needed to understand, but his mind refused to think in sentences containing more than two words, and all he came up with was Omega...Omega... Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“What? What?!” Alana breathed the words with desperation, but Jack thundered over her, taking an intimidating step towards the doctor who paled under his old, papery cheeks. “He's an Omega? Just like that? After one whiff of Hannibal?” he bellowed in his familiar way that always made everyone shrink into themselves. The doctor cleared his throat, holding the head of the bed for support. “He was already in a state of pre-heat,” he quickly added, his voice self-assured. “He must have presented about a week ago. No one noticed this?” The question was posed neutral, but both Alana and Jack looked at each other with accusing, calculating eyes. They both looked flustered and confused when Jack's lips twitched downwards, “He seemed quiet and sweaty, but Will...” he started, hesitant to continue. “...Will is always kind of quiet and sweaty,” Alana finished, equally abashed. Will felt a flare of tight, stabbing heat flashing through his abdomen and arched up, moaning into the wrist that was bound next to his face. Both Jack and Alana stepped forward automatically, placing concerned hands on his shoulder and arm. Touches that felt scorching on his already burning skin. “There's only one thing we can do,” the doctor said, a pained look in his watery blue eyes and a frown on his dark, bushy eyebrows. “We need to send him in with the inmate.”

“No!” gasped Alana. “No!” hollered Jack. Will wailed, writhing against his soaked bedsheets. Alana placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder in a gesture of dominant guidance. “Is there nothing else we can try? Pills? Toys? Anything...,” she said, urgent and under her breath, as if concerned for Will's modesty. The doctor sighed and watched Will's eyes rolling dangerously in his sockets, rasping for air as he trashed on the bed. “Not in this state,” he said. “He is in full heat, his first one and he has already seen and scented his chosen Alpha. He will suffer unbearably if we keep them apart.”

Alana's hands trembled as Jack 's held himself steady on the bed frame. “Can't we just find another Alpha?” he asked, voice laced with hope as he stared at the trickle of saliva creeping out of Will's mouth. The doctor only smiled ruefully at the agent, pressing his lips together. “Like I've said, they've scented each other and by their reactions to it I would say they are a match,” he said, signaling the significance with his eyes. “A lesser Alpha would get killed by either one of them, and I daresay that there is no better Alpha for Mr. Graham available.” The doctor bared his cigarette-stained teeth in a dazed smile as he rose a finger to his face. “I've never witnessed or read about such a strong reaction between Alpha and Omega in my entire career. This could be a Per mutua nexis couple.”

Per mutua nexis, Will heard through the fog in his head. Per mutua nexis. Words on that roundabout in his head, that kept coming, coming, coming back. He rutted his ass against the mattress, shamelessly searching for friction to ease the ache inside. “Per mutua nexis,” Alana whispered. Jack tried, but seemed to choke on the words. “No,” he said, desperate and determined in disbelief. “We have to find a way to help Will. We can't let this happen.” Will arched against his restraints, hot fire ate away at him from inside his belly where his body clenched down on nothing but air, and roared in violent anger because of it. He wanted....he needed.....

“There is nothing I can do for him. He needs his Alpha,” the doctor said, cleaning his glasses on his coat and offering a tight-lipped smile. 'Alpha, Alpha,' Will howled at the word spoken next to his ear. He didn't understand much of anything anymore, but his body responded with a natural 'Yes, Yes, Yes, NOW!' “Look at him, even sedated the pain and absence will induce madness inside of him. It's inhumane,” the doctor spoke as Will whimpered pitifully, and Jack and Alana looked at each other with pained, horrified expressions.

A door opened and a tall, blond nurse carrying a clipboard came to stand by the foot of the bed. “Dr. Lecter is in a full rut, Dr. Hammings,” she spoke, matter-of-factly, but a little white around the nose. Will cried against the open air, now alternating between pushing his ass down against the soaked mattress and pumping his seeking hips into the air. No one in the room looked at him directly anymore, feeling the decision to restrain him had been the right one.

“What's happening in there?” Alana said, visibly worried... for the expensive prison cell, most likely. The nurse shook her head, eyes wide in her head as if reliving a moment. “He is tearing down his cell and trying to break the glass,” she said. “The chair and the bed are smashed to pieces and he's... working on the table. He's like a wild animal.” A shudder ran down the poor girl's back as Dr. Hammings placed a comforting hand on her arm. “An Alpha in a rut without his Omega can be as strong as an adult gorilla,” he affirmed. Alana huffed through her nose, crossing her arms. “A gorilla that only smashes what I'll have to replace for him,” she muttered under her breath. “I'm sure his books are fine.”

“We'll have to make a decision,” Dr. Hammings pressed, a sharp eye on both Alana and Jack. When Jack remained silent, looking like he was trying to fight the bile rising in his throat, Alana stepped forward and bent over Will's bed, trying to see into his unseeing eyes. “Will. Will, can you hear me?” she asked, kindly. Much like she had been when they were still friends. Will moaned in response, yanking on his leather cuffs, dark curls wet over his forehead. “What do you want us to do, Will?” she asked, trying to calm him by holding his restless wrists in the restraints.

“A-A-....” Will panted, restless on the ruined bedding. “Will?”Alana asked, patiently now. “Do you want to go to Hannibal? Or do you want us to try and help you?” she stroked a finger over his hot cheek, a touch he followed before he turned away. His breath became a wheeze, a desperate tightness around his voice. “Alpha,” he rasped, pushing it out, feeling the golden silk of the word pleasuring his throat. “Alpha,” he tried again. “Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.”

There was a silence when Jack and Alana stared at each other in unspoken defeat. Alana stepped back from the bed, took a deep breath and nodded to the doctor.

“Send him in.”

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights flashed past Will's eyes as the bed rolled down the long, dark corridor. He was still bedded and bound and watched the blues and greens of the cheap overhead lights flicker off and on against his sensitive eyes. The bed made a turn, and another, two locks were undone and suddenly there were strange voices by his bed. He was surrounded by men, dressed in black, armed and visibly on full alert. A small army of them gathered in front of a door that Will, despite himself, recognized instantly. He whined deep in his throat, pulling and thrashing against the restraints that started to cut into his flesh. But he felt nothing of the sharp leather scraping his raw skin as nothing rose above the twisting, burning, iron fist that stirred tightly in his guts, screaming and begging and fueling the fire high.

“What the hell is going on?” Jack asked, eying the gathering guards around the door. “Is Hannibal not restrained?” Will growled, showing his teeth at the name and the growing scent that slowly drifted into the hallways from underneath the closed door. There was a loud bang on the other side of the door and one of the guards, tall, broad and blond – a small arsenal of weapons hanging from his belt – stepped forward. “We've tried to restrain him,” he said, showing the rips on one of his sleeves, fabric stained with rusty brown splatters of blood. Will thrashed and cried at the faint smell of Hannibal on the guard. “But the only way to restrain Dr. Lecter now would be to tranquilize him. “Will's lips curled up high over his gums as he growled, releasing foamy spit onto his chin. Alana frowned at the damaged guard, shock evident on her face as she pressed her lips together, contemplating her options. Her eyes met Dr. Hammings', who cleared his throat, shaking his head sternly at the suggestion. “That would be very counterproductive in this situation, Dr Bloom,” he said pointedly, and Alana chewed her lip. Will smelled the faint smell of snow and burning wood and he wanted nothing but to go, go, go. “Hgnnn....,” he pushed violently against the cuffs, openly and angrily yelling as he pawed and kicked around him in search for a chance to escape. Something crashed on the other side of the door.

“Dr. Lecter is still locked in his cell,” Dr. Hammings said, collected and calm around everyone's frantic blinking and shuffling. “Just open his cell, push Mr. Graham in and close the door.” He was eying Will with growing concern, seeing the distressed Omega growing pale against his pillow. There was only one thing that could help him now. “You can always sedate and restrain them when they are calm and asleep. Right now, they need to be in the same room with each other, both with their consciousness intact.” He gave Alana an unnecessary, meaningful stare, and both Alana and Jack looked at each other before they let their eyes run over Will. Sweating, trembling, foaming Will. They both paused, reaching desperately within themselves to think of something, anything, any other way than throwing Will in with the lion.

Another crash behind the door and Will ground his teeth so hard his eyes spilled tears over his cheeks, wetting what was already soaked. He was suffering. “Do it,” Alana said, short and empty. Jack nodded once in response, hands clenching into fists. Dr. Hammings stepped forward and reached for the restraints around Will's ankles as the armed guards stepped closer and placed themselves between the hospital bed and the door, where Alana handed the key to the blond security guard. “I'm so sorry, Will,” she whispered, pain and moisture in her eyes as she reached fingers out to the snapping, snarling beast on the mattress before she stepped away from his bed. Will's legs were freed from leather cuffs, but before he could move he was instantly held down by the guards by his bed. He wailed and pushed against strong muscles, but nothing shifted under the strain as he cried angry, desperate tears that seeped down his cheeks and over his ears. His arms were next, equally bound by determined hands that smelled like gunpowder and the cheap hand soap from their staff bathroom. It made Will's insides rip and tear in protest as he was forced upright, socked feet on the stone floor.

“Easy,” one of the men warned, holding on to Will's buckling thighs. Their gloved hands touched his sweaty arms, the soaked back of his pants, and Will wanted to lash out and tear their unrighteous fingers away with his bare teeth. It was all wrong. His eyes, however, stayed fixated on nothing but the door, that door, and the blond guard with the key. There was a click of the lock, a squeak of the heavy hinges and then a push to open it. Eight hands tightened on him when his body trembled and tensed at the whiff of fire and winter sky that washed over him. The scent, pure and whole and rich, was like acid filling his scorching lungs, his withering heart, his crumbling bones, but this time the destruction felt like a beautiful, choreographed dance inside his chest. Like everything burned would be replaced with something better.

He heard a roar that pierced his heart, and his head shot up, with teeth bared and muscles pushing against his human cage. He was dragged in, lead through the open door and his heart pulsed an aching pleasure when he saw the hardwood floors, the white and gold, the light and the glass. And behind the glass, was Hannibal. Gray prison suit, short hair, looking absolutely wrecked and wild. His fingers were bloody and his eyes were laced with broken veins. His suit was ripped around his knees and across his chest and his graying, usually neat hair was sticking up from the neck to the front in wild, unkempt strands. He was standing amid the rubble of broken furniture and ripped bedding, and as soon as he noticed Will being dragged into the room he launched himself at the door, growling like an untamed lion with a rumble that came from deep within and made Will's insides quiver.

When Hannibal noticed the guns pointing at him and his Omega, he stepped back, baring fangs that shone red with the blood of some unlucky guard, no doubt. He looked ready to kill, to skin, to slaughter and tear, and he kept the growl in his throat, low and dangerous as a clear warning, but held still when the door between them was unlocked by a guard. Hannibal had his back hunched, his spine round and his fingers bent into claws as his bloodied eyes followed every single movement from the gathering guards, and the barrels pointed at Will's damp curls.

The scent rolled in like a thick fog, winter and autumn that their hearts recognized as home, and both Will and Hannibal let out a high-pitched whine against the border of pain and relief. Their eyes met, wild and unsteady, but seeing nothing else than each other as Will growled, clawed and lurched forwards like a starving wolf that smelled a fat rabbit. He felt a push against his back, a hurried shove into the room, and a very, very quick click of a lock being shut behind his back.

They were both here. They were together.

**

There was that one second of white, wide, bottomless silence within Will, right before Hannibal's presence, his nearness, washed over his skin and sunk deep, turning everything inside to loud, black and blood. What followed unleashed a raging storm inside his bones, roaring and gnawing, blinding him and wrecking all restraint left inside. He felt himself being dragged under in the black, icy water of the stream by the pushing, throttling hands of a raw, savage need within him. He couldn't think. He could barely hear or see anything anymore. But he could feel, and he felt it all.

Hannibal was near, hidden in the dark fog behind his eyes, and the icy heat of winter fire that blazed around him soothed the unendurable burning flesh of Will's face, down his neck, the blazing skin behind his ears. It was flowing like a seamless twirl of bliss and darkness, like that place where the water gradually grew deeper, colder, inescapable. Will was captured but liberated, breathing freely, so lost and blind but safe with a body so empty, but so close to completion. The beast within him howled through Will's teeth and inhaled the smell of blood and burning wood. Home. It was a boundless, uncontrollable piece of paradise inside the deepest pit of hell.

It was no more than three seconds inside that Will heard a low, furious growl near his ears and lurched towards the sound, grabbing at the source of it with blind eyes and hands, snarling into nothing as he searched for hot Alpha flesh. Strong, hot skin found him with clawing hands and sharp nails that yanked and tore at his shirt as he fell forward into the tremor of hard muscles of a broad, clothed chest. There was a deep growl to his ear, a primal warning, before he felt hands on the skin of his face and trembled in the wild relief that pressed tears from his eyes. The pleasure it brought to the furthest tips of his nerves was like breath, life, after being buried in the soil for too long.

The hands were big and strong and rough as they enveloped his jaw with fingers closing hard around the bone, yanking him forward, nails to flesh. Hands like these, masculine and powerful, had never before touched his skin. They were stronger than his own, overruling and overtaking him. The pain was sharp and Will whimpered in delirious want, pawing blindly at the air. Strong arms pulled him forward as fingers scoured every bit of him, searching frantically across his cheekbones, his hair, his throat. There was a continuous rumble in his ear, like the purr of a mountain lion, as a nose pressed and pushed under his chin and against his neck, brushing skin with hot air. The touch felt like a heartbeat, a breath of air, vitally necessary.

There were a thousand fragile voices singing in the chapel, and he felt the pain, embedded so deeply he couldn't remember being without it, blossoming and elevating with every breath, to something that filled every crease of him with the warm, thick liquid of euphoria. But the empty, wailing ache inside him, squeezing tight behind his pelvis, remained. It expanded, gnawing against his lower belly.

Will snarled and reached his fingers out to find the soft, shaved skin of Hannibal's cheeks. It was pure light to his hazy eyes, and he briefly envisioned clawing it open and crawling inside. “Will,” Hannibal's voice vibrated dark and low against his throat and his name on that tongue was enough for Will to careen forward and press into broad shoulders and warm flesh. There was a deep rumble before he felt a wet tongue against his throat, on his glands, hungrily lapping at him like he was to be devoured. Will cried, a screech too high to be human, and he clawed at everything he could find. Shoulders, arms, a strong back. He pushed his body close, folded one leg around Hannibal's hip and lifted one knee against his waist as if to climb against him, on him, in him. The contact of their bodies sent a deep thrill from toes to teeth and his hands lashed out, pushing nails deep into the thin fabric of Hannibal's jumpsuit as he scratched and pulled at the unwanted material. Another violent snarl erupted as arms came up to encircle his waist and grabbed his lifted leg to push them closer together.

Their groins were hot and hard and pressing close as they moved backwards in synchronicity, away from the door and into the room. Hannibal's hand roamed Will's body, hard and demanding, yanking at his curls with vicious pulls as he mouthed the skin of his face, his neck and collarbone. Will's nails pressed into Hannibal's jaw, breaking skin and drawing blood that he lapped at with a hungry tongue, tasting something that he knew had always belonged to him. Their minds were lost, primal and primitive. Will could feel his glands pulsing under his skin and the slick pouring steadily against his legs from under his pants as his ass and groin grew hot, hot inside his pants. “Will,” Hannibal rumbled again, raising bloody, golden tiger eyes to meet him with a gaze he fought hard to keep steady. Will gasped and shuddered, his name from those lips a white, soft cloud in the thunder storm, and he blinked, focused his line of vision and saw him, met him, connected. Those eyes, they were in all his dreams and all his nightmares and Will felt him hard and deep like sharp electricity pumping through his veins.

Hannibal's body tightened at the contact, a furious need shimmering in his golden, bloody eyes before he lashed out, capturing Will's pink, open mouth and bared teeth with his own. That kiss was their first, but neither one of them could consider the sentiment as they growled and moaned and pulled at lips with fangs like sparring wolves. Their tongues licked against teeth and teeth bit against lips that searched and slid and pressed together as Will fell slack onto Hannibal's chest. He felt taken by a frenzy of raw pleasure that pumped through him at the feel and taste of his Alpha, of his and of home. The stabbing, pulsing, empty, angry heat inside of him only wailed harder and louder to be filled and he shamelessly rubbed himself against the body of his taller Alpha, who sank a sharp fang into Will's bottom lip and placed one pressing hand against Will's back. Will growled when he tasted his own blood and snapped his teeth at Hannibal's lips. Their mouths opened at the dripping blood, tongues meeting in hungry, depraved, demolishing lust.

There was a deep need to destroy, take, devour and fill. It was their need and nature pushed too far by separation, absence, built too high and too strong. What they needed was heat and skin and flesh, blood and slick and semen. Will moaned in desperate, repressed pleasure that took over the last remains of his sanity when Hannibal's hands cupped his soaked ass through his clothes and pushed their hips together in unsteady, uncontrolled friction. He threw back his head when Hannibal's big hands ripped at the wet shirt that hung on his frame. “Alpha,” Will moaned when he heard the snaring sound of ripped cotton and watched pieces of his ruined shirt fall to the floor. Sharp nails ran hard over his exposed chest, leaving red marks on his pale skin that stung beautifully and deep pink.

His own hands, in return, started gripping at the thin material of Hannibal's pale gray prison suit as the Alpha bit and broke skin on his collarbone and ran hands down to grab Will's hips. It wasn't gentle, it was desperate and raw as Will heard the uncontrolled panting of hot air from Hannibal's nose close to his ear and Will howled his approval as he clawed cruelly at the flesh of Hannibal's neck. The touch, the scent, the sound, they made his skin sing like an opera. It rooted into him so deep it made him feel like liquid under those strong searching hands. It was a bloody piece of heaven they both had been designed for.

Between the hungry bites and licks at his heaving, pounding chest, Will's attempts at undressing his Alpha became careless until Hannibal tore the fabric between his own fingers and let it fall from his arms and shoulders to hang around his hips. Will's hands clutched Hannibal's white undershirt and Hannibal's hands unbuckled the belt on Will's pants, ripping and tearing at the leather before it came undone. They pooled around Will's ankles, leaving him standing in his boxers with Hannibal's hard, sharp claws, lips and blood-filled eyes all over his exposed skin.

Hannibal ripped his undershirt off his chest and kicked off his prison loafers before yanking down and stepping out of his pale prison suit, looking wild and naked, damaged and bloody with red scratches and bites on his skin. There was a whine that rose from Will's throat and couldn't be stopped as he watched the Alpha through his hazy, ocean eyes. He was beautiful, fierce limbs, strong but soft around his waist with hair adorning his chest, like a graying wolf. Eyes wild, red and yellow, teeth sharp and stained with his blood, spine curved like a haunting, stalking wolf ready to pounce. Will saw the strain in his white boxers before they were pulled away, falling from Hannibal's slim hips and Will's whine became pitiful with a desperate, pathetic, tearful need that hurt so bad inside his belly. Hannibal was an Alpha. He was bigger, larger, than any mere human. He was thick, growing thicker even around the base, and he was long and hard, cock curving up towards his belly. He was huge and Will wanted it, he wanted every inch.

There was no time or sense or will to stare and hesitate, because Hannibal was already pouncing on him, yanking his curls, digging nails at his back and nosing possessively under his jaw. “My home,” he growled and dipped his hands under the waistband of Will's pale blue, soaked boxer shorts. Will buckled wildly against Hannibal's naked body, rolling his eyes back when one finger grazed the wet slick that gathered around his hole. His body screamed victory at the contact, shooting hot streams of sparkling fire up his knees into his belly and Will all but sobbed at the feeling of the demanding touch before Hannibal brought his hand back up and sucked a slick finger into his mouth. “Omega,” he purred, low and dark, closing his eyes involuntarily like a man in the desert savoring his last drop of water. “My Omega,” he hissed against Will's lips, who wheezed an ongoing mantra of “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Will's knees were weak when he stepped back and hit the table that stood in the middle of the trashed room as they ripped and licked at each other's mouths and skin with fangs and tongues and bruised, bitten lips. One of the table legs had been ripped off and one corner seemed like a large, strong fist had punched a hole right through it, but Hannibal pushed against him, shoving his hips onto the tabletop. Tiger eyes, he could see them almost clearly now as he was pushed roughly to his back on the wobbling furniture, mewling against nothing and lifting his neck up in a search for more skin, more contact, closer, faster. Lips found his as Will's hands clawed desperately at Hannibal's naked torso, pinching and pushing and biting Hannibal's forearm when he leaned over him imposingly. He was muscles and hair and skin and Will wanted all of it. He wanted to see everything, feel everything, and right now, he wanted to be bred, filled, fucked by his Alpha, so much it made him wail like a lost pup.

Hannibal's tongue followed after Will's opened lips and licked into his mouth, bringing the taste of blood on his sharp teeth, burning coals and smooth, soothing Scotch. It tasted like Wolftrap, before it all went to hell. He whined, pushing his hips forward as Hannibal positioned himself firmly between his legs. “Will,” Hannibal shuddered, directionless against Will's ear, eyes lost behind the beast within as his hands squeezed Will's inner thighs. There was nothing left in him that wasn't Hannibal, and those hands on his skin, so close to his slick, empty body made it impossible to form a single coherent thought in his mind except one, repeating, pounding thought. “Fuck me,” he moaned, teeth bare and hips tilted wantonly upwards. “Breed me.” Hannibal bared his fangs, hissing hot air against his ear shell and he leaned forward over the table to shove Will's boxers past his hips with ripping, demanding hands. “Yes,” he growled, grabbing Will's hips to position his body on the edge of the table with rough, impatient hands.

Those golden eyes ran over the slick between Will's legs and nails dug sharply in Will's ass cheeks. Hannibal growled with hot pride and satisfaction before he palmed the hard cock that curved proudly between Will's legs. Will snarled and pushed his head into the table as he wriggled away from the touch. It was a detour. It was torture. “Please, please, please,” he cried, begged, leaking tears from his eyes as he pushed up his hips. Hannibal's fingers slid lower, spreading his cheeks to expose the tight, pink hole, shining, dripping with slick. Hannibal moaned, his breath like a prayer at the sight and dipped his head until Will felt a smooth tongue running between his cheeks, over his hot, clenched hole. “Fuck, fuck,” he shuddered violently, buckling against Hannibal's face. He wanted to feel this, wanted to have this, but for now, it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't enough. His body wanted one thing only, and it was to be filled until there was no room left inside. “Please, please, please, Alpha,” Will cried, wailed, more tears pressing from the corners of his eyes as he rode his desperate hips against Hannibal's face. A finger pushed inside alongside the lapping tongue, sliding in the slick tightness of Will's thrashing body with ease, as he clenched around the intrusion, inviting it in further, harder.

Another finger and Will mewled his despair. It didn't alleviate the pain. It didn't sooth the empty ache. Hannibal's fingers were trembling, his thighs against the table were shaking, and Will knew it was due to pure and hard restraint that he wasn't already being mounted with teeth in his neck like a savage beast. His Alpha didn't want to hurt him, unknowing that it was the wait itself that was truly agonizing. “Alpha. Alpha,” Will screeched, sobbing into his own two hands when Hannibal removed his fingers. “Now. Now. Please.” He knew he was crying quite obscenely now, and Hannibal pulled back, lips gleaming with Will's pouring slick, and crawled onto the table with the grace of a cat before sliding his sticky lips over Will's, eyes gleaming gold and blood like a monster in the dark. Will's tongue darted to his lips to taste the sweet musk that was his own. “Hannibal, Alpha,” he said, breathless against the body that covered him, hairy chest against his smooth skin. The strong, soft stomach pressing on his. The large, large erection against the crease of his thigh. Hannibal's breath hitched when he heard his name, and his eyes burned over with uncontrolled lust when he hoisted Will's knees up around his hips and aligned his cock with Will's desperate, dripping hole. “Yes, now,” Hannibal growled breathlessly against his skin and Will groaned at the words from the pit of his being when he felt himself being breached by the large head of Hannibal's cock. No more waiting.

The intrusion was a large stretch inside his tight body. The pain was there, but the fill was an immediate, glorious, inexplicable sense of absolute, heavenly completion. Hannibal thrust in quickly, trembling from the rumble he held in his chest, and he seemed instantly lost in the velvety slick of Will's tight, virgin body. Hannibal pushed until half of his pulsing cock was inside Will's burning body, and pushed against the barrier of clenching muscles without a pause. Even half way, Will's body was euphoric, singing from every pore, in every cell, from his tail bone to the top of his spine at the base of his skull. His body clenched happily around the Alpha inside him, the Alpha that belonged there, that he needed, that he whined and sobbed and begged for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was his cure, his prayer, his medicine, the remedy for his pain and suffering, everything wrong with life.

Their eyes met, wild and wide and wet as they felt each other everywhere, in and out. Hannibal's cock nudged impatiently inside his heat and Will felt the fill inside fixing all that had been wrong and broken before. They panted and growled, mouth against mouth, breathing each other's air and nipping at broken lips. They were rising and falling, chest to chest on the wobbling table underneath. Sharp finger nails were cruel against their tender flesh, and Will saw blood on his fingers where he clawed wild and lost on Hannibal's shoulders. They didn't hear how the wobbling legs sighed under their weight and trembled on the hardwood floor.

The Omega brought up his legs when Hannibal fucked harder into his body, that had become pliant around the Alpha inside him. Hannibal's nose pushed against his throat searching for his glands, nudging like a begging dog, as he deeply inhaled Will's scent. Teeth glistened behind his lips and Will's eyes were drawn to the sight as he watched Hannibal's eyes resting on the exposed, bare flesh of his glands. Deep in a delirious heat, Will struggled hard to understand, to remember, why that was such a dangerous sight.

It was everything, a waterfall of pleasure that rained upon him as he felt the movement and the stretch inside. His cock was hard, leaking on his belly, and for the moment, completely forgotten. Will wanted more, needed more. Everything. Hannibal leaned down to kiss his lips, his chin, the gland in his throat, and they both groaned as Hannibal's cock moved deeper inside Will, pushing further into the Omega underneath him. Will's strong and gripping muscles contracted tightly around Hannibal, who wound his fingers in Will's hair and around his throat to yank and squeeze brutally on the delirious Omega.

Will felt Hannibal wanted nothing more than to claim, to tear at his flesh with his teeth and slam into him so forcefully he would tear him apart and that anything other was for Will's sake and safety alone. He whimpered, tilting his hips as Hannibal pushed inside him and pressed his heels into the Alpha's hips to force him in all the way without stopping. The burn that accompanied Hannibal's entire length was a cruel one and Will thrashed and cried wet tears, trembling around the cock buried mercilessly inside him. He was full, so full. Everything was deep and hot and pulsed like an open vein, but his body was made for this, and he felt himself hungrily rolling his hips down against Hannibal's pelvis to ensure he had it all. Hannibal growled from between his bloody teeth, slamming his hips further and sharper into his Omega before he pulled back, pressed nails into the Omega's tightened throat, and forced himself back inside.

Will howled around the clutch on his windpipe, clawing his fingers on Hannibal's shoulders and grabbing onto hot flesh with already bloodied nails. He felt himself expanding and tearing, maybe even bleeding, but there was no stopping them now. He was right here, filling a dark space that had been empty without him all this time. He belonged here, right here. He looked up through the tears of pain and burn and beauty and met with wide tiger eyes welling over with penetrating pleasure and an open-mouthed stare. Hannibal was completely lost inside Will's body, who finally felt the endless void within like a sheet of paper colored to completion as his Alpha's hard cock dragged inside through tight, wet, hot, endless pleasure that belonged there.

Will breathed hard around the fingers on his throat and felt Hannibal pushing in harder, shorter, sharper. He let his hands run up across Hannibal's rocking belly with searching fingers, there was a kiss to his lips, a squeeze to his throat and a cruel pull at his hair and suddenly, Hannibal hit something inside of him that made him feel like he was weightless, falling backwards into nothing, filled to the brim with a painful rasp of pleasure. Hannibal pulled back before hitting that pleasure spot dead on with the head of his cock and Will hissed through his teeth, pawing wildly at his Alpha's ribs as he was left with a delicious drag out before it was repeated all over again.

They were a tangle of wild wolves in the night, fighting and fucking vigorously as they pushed and pulled in their furious need for their mate. Wanting closer. Wanting blood. There were kisses made from open mouths and sharp teeth, caresses with sharp, vicious lashes of hands, and the room was filled with growls and moans and snarls as they mated and fought and wanted each other only closer. Hannibal let his teeth sink above Will's nipple, ripping at the skin and making the Omega snarl when hot blood poured from his skin and pain twisted with his pleasure.

Will's body was so new and tight, but Hannibal pushed fearlessly past that strangling grip, fucking into him completely and with abandon as he roared and snarled and reached for soft, Omega skin. His eyes were close to the flickering orange of an untamed jungle cat as he nipped along his Omega's jaw, lost in the way Will squirmed and squeezed and dripped around his cock like he was born to do. The Omega was a weeping, whimpering mess, pulling at his own hair and biting his lips in cruel, liberating extacy. “Oh God, Oh God,” Will was lost, blinded, groping at Hannibal's arms, chest and face as his prostate was pounded into wild heaven and back as the animal inside him screamed “Yes, Fuck, Yes. This, This, This.” He felt safe, protected, confident to surrender as he felt Hannibal's cock moving inside him, heard his growls in his ear and felt the caress of his breath on his throat. He felt kept, marked. Belonging.

Hannibal pressed in harder, tighter, deeper, pushing himself upright onto his knees as his hands lifted Will's hips to follow after. Will was still pressed to the table, his back arched almost completely off the surface as his nails scratched helplessly against the tabletop and at his mate. His prostate was stimulated with such nerve-wracking pleasure, and he knew he was close to his release.

He reached between them and palmed his angry and forgotten, swollen erection as he squeezed up with every thrust. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Will never heard the table creak, didn't feel it sway beneath his back, as he clenched hard and tight around Hannibal and trembled, feeling liquid fire pulsing hot and devastating through his wrecked body before he shot his load all over his abdomen. The cry he let out was raw, bone crunching, barely human as Hannibal bucked into him with vicious thrusts and fucked him through his climax.

That was when the table collapsed, bringing their joined, naked bodies to the floor with a loud bang and a hard slam. The floor trembled, pieces of wood and metal went flying and the two crashed onto the hardwood floor, mouths pressed into a furious kiss. Will rolled to the side from the impact of the fall, separating their bodies involuntarily before his head shot back up and his lip curled, looking at Hannibal with widened, ocean eyes. There was a pause, one second, a deafening silence, before they both moved inwards as one and their mouths crashed back together. Lips slid together, wet with saliva, and tongues met inside hot, moaning, growling mouths that searched for more and deep and hard. Hannibal's mattress lay close by on the ground, ripped and torn from his rage, but Will wasted no time crawling onto it, giving in to the desperate, primal need to sink to his elbows and knees and bend his back like a cat, pushing his ass into the air. Will looked over his shoulder and Hannibal snarled trough his fangs, eyes rolling back at the sight as he positioned himself behind Will at wolf speed and thrust back deeply inside his Omega before he could take another breath.

Will trembled, his insides still thriving and riding on his previous release as a new pressuring heat already started to build inside his belly. Their coupling became frantic, desperate, painfully necessary as Hannibal made Will's whole body shake with every thrust forward and laced ruthless fingers around his chin, pulling backwards and forcing Will's head up. Will was filled with the entire length and girth of his massive alpha, but still his body was on fire, in search for more. More, more, more of Hannibal, as the Omega in him knew there was. He almost howled in relief when he felt the root of Hannibal's cock starting to thicken inside of him. “Yes, Yes,” he moaned and sputtered against his quivering arms, encouraging Hannibal, who howled and scraped his teeth into the back of Will's neck when the Omega thrust down onto the swelling of his cock. He was growing, bigger, wider, fuller with every thrust and if he was afraid to tear his sweet virgin Omega he would be the only one, because Will, delirious with the heat and pleasure and savage need, bore down on the Alpha's knot like it hurt to be without it. And in a sense, that was true.

Hannibal hauled Will's body up, pressing his front to the Omega's trembling back as he kept fucking his pliant body and growled in his mate's ear. It became harder and harder to move with the knot expanding in Will's body, but he kept rutting against Will's ass as he held his hands flat and hard against the Omega's belly, feeling himself moving beneath the skin. Will's cock was full hard again as he pushed back on the knot, short thrusts with his hips as he was trapped around the large bulge inside him. Finally, finally, fucking finally, the ache inside him seemed to stop screaming, and to bleed out into a puddle of the purest golden syrup of warm, spreading pleasure. This. This was it. This was what he had been looking for. This was what forever felt like.

Hannibal's hand on his cock set him off again, and as he clenched down hard around the Alpha's cock and cried with his head thrown back against Hannibal's shoulder. His Alpha followed after him, beautifully stroked and played by Will's squeezing, rippling insides. Will felt himself filled with streams of thick release, deep, deep inside the empty place that had begged him for something, to be filled, to be nursed. This was it. This was what had been missing. Will's second orgasm was eye-crossing and deliciously painful as it ran up all the way to his jaw, making his teeth tingle and rattle in his mouth, his insides throbbing and pulsing around the still pouring semen. Bittersweet pleasure.
Hannibal's arms were tight around him, still thrusting against the obstruction and quivering from the power of his orgasms that seemed ripped from him with every pull. His throat bore a continuous purr of deep, dark content as his nose came up under Will's gland again, inhaling sharply at the skin. Sharp teeth grazed the skin there and Will remembered something far away in the mind that was not yet returned to him. There was a promise there, beneath that skin. An eternity. A bite. A bond.

He stiffened when he felt the tip of a fang against his skin and Hannibal stilled inside him. For a moment neither of them moved, or breathed, before Hannibal pulled away from his throat and wrapped Will close to him, letting them fall to their side on the mattress as they spooned together, bound by the knot inside Will's body. He was in bliss, thoroughly, to the tips of every single hair on his body. He didn't stop trembling and suffering, a rumble rising from their chests. Never before had he been so sated and warm and safe. Everything, everything was right. He clenched around the right amount of fullness within him and Hannibal shuddered behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around the Omega.

His body calmed. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing became even. For the first time in a week, he could let himself rest. Will closed his eyes and curled back into his Alpha's warm body as the wild animal inside him fading into slumber. It was sated and ready to give back what it had taken away.

It was ready to give him back Will Graham.

One breath, two breaths.......Will's eyes opened. Pupils tightened, blood drained from his face. His vision became clear and wide. The thick fog had lifted from his mind.

“Oh....

…...oh God.”

Chapter Text

Everything inside Will was still. He wondered, briefly, if he had died there, in those arms that wrapped around him. The noise, the pain, the fog, the endless furious screams were gone and instead there was nothing but his own breathing, his calming heartbeat, the steady rush of blood inside his veins. It was overwhelming, this silence after such violence within. A blissful peace that made his insides sway like the gentle rocking of a floating boat.

But with that peace came room inside the walls of his mind, forever dented and scratched by the nails of the wild beast that had roamed there. And that room brought clarity, a space to remember who he was. Where he was. What he had done. Presenting evidence like a slide show behind his eyes as he grew colder and stiller as silent minutes ticked away.

He felt the strong arms around his bare waist, pulling him closer into the broad, hairy chest against his naked back. He heard the gentle purr that rose from behind him and felt a searching nose pushing onto the crook of his neck. The air was hot and slow, the rumble against his shoulder blades a low vibration on his his skin. Will didn't have to look to remember the orange eyes of blood and gold, the sharp teeth, the naked, damaged skin. The room smelled of winter sky and autumn rain and unmistakably of sex, as blood and sweat and musk hung heavy in the air around them. The floor around the mattress was littered with broken furniture that lay scattered all around them in the aftermath of... of......

“Oh God,” Will whimpered weakly, tensing from the panic that rose hard and fast to the surface and clenching involuntarily around Hannibal, still buried deep inside his body. He felt a hitched breath against the back of his neck. “Do that again and I'll...,” Hannibal started, voice in a chokehold, but Will's body shuddered and his hips jerked, blindly and uncontrollably searching for a way to freedom, escape, room to breathe. His heart was in his throat as his muscles contracted around the intrusion and Hannibal groaned behind him, shuddering against him with a stutter of his hips as he placed one hand on Will's belly to try and keep him steady. Will felt a stingray of pleasure at the buckle against his insides and the new release of warm liquid inside him, and he sobbed at the unwanted twitch of his own cock.

He released a breath through pursed lips and forced himself to stop straining against Hannibal's hold on him as he folded into himself with trembling shoulders, hands clutching at his ribcage. Inside his head there were flashes of images coming back to him, hot and hard, and his throat began to feel tight. He remembered the letter, seeing Hannibal in his cell and feeling the wrecking ball of his scent filling his nostrils, making him lose all control. The hospital bed, Hannibal's fingers on his throat. The touches, the words, the table – oh God, oh God, oh God. He felt it everywhere, remembered it everywhere. His ribs felt tight, his lungs too small, and his breathing became shallow, short, less and less satisfying. Cold sweat broke out in his neck as he struggled against the tight arms around his waist, and wheezed for air that didn't seem to be there. “Shhh.....,” Hannibal's voice soothed against him as he placed an open hand on Will's sternum from behind and gently pressed down. “Just breathe. Follow me.” Will felt the slow expansion of the sturdy chest against his back and tried to follow, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose, before feeling Hannibal releasing the air against the back of his neck.

Slow and gentle, in and out, hold and release. Finally, with that broad hand on his chest, Will found air in his lungs and felt his heartbeat slowing down. That voice against his ear, soothing him, it sounded so much more familiar than before, when they... Will knew Hannibal, too, had come to his senses. There was a silence as they both breathed, holding still as Will's shoulders hunched vulnerably forward. “We're stuck,” he said, voice hoarse and small, but very much his own. His body was still trembling and weak and before he could stop himself, his muscles contracted again around the large knot that was buried inside. Hannibal made a choked noise behind him, thighs trembling against the back of Will's legs. “Yes,” Hannibal uttered, more air than sound. “It appears so.” A flat hand ran over Will's chest, grazing the bite mark above his nipple before stroking a tender thumb over his collarbone. “God,” Will breathed, lost in the fear and bewilderment that still clawed at his throat, and the curling branches of pleasure that grew when either of them moved. The hand touched his forehead, gentle and unrecognizable as it pushed against the skin, lolling Will's head back onto a strong, bare shoulder. This was a dream. It had to be. One crazy, twisted dream.

Will wanted to shake off that touch, lift his head and move away as far as he would be allowed, but instead, he let himself be lead and rested against warm skin and steady bones. He had felt the silence and the dread, but there was more to feel inside his body. He wished to ignore it, but now it seemed to settle so deeply within him that that was no longer an option. His body felt consumed by the licking flames of his pleasure which had left a heavy, satisfying blanket of soft ashes on his skin. He was filled, complete, and his body sang its approval from deep within his loins.

He clenched involuntarily at the thought, unable to stop himself, making Hannibal's hips snap further into him and brush right against his abused prostate. Without having touched himself, Will's oversensitive body convulsed through an orgasm as Hannibal shuddered violently inside him and stroked flat hands over Will's twitching torso. The pleasure was maddening, ripping violently at his insides, and left him blind and deaf, clawing at whatever his hands could reach as his belly collapsed in a quivering wildfire of liquefying pleasure. Will sobbed, thrashing in the firm hold Hannibal had on him, and shivered through the release that left him boneless and burned.

“Please, no more,” Will whimpered and begged, as Hannibal gently stroked his fingers through his hair. “Just try to relax,” Hannibal said in a hushed voice against his ear, bringing his fingers to Will's cheeks and wiping the skin. Though wet with tears, Will hadn't even realized he was crying. “This could take up to an hour.” The words washed over him and Will's lips tightened. An hour. After this week, what was an hour? Will closed his eyes and gave into exhaustion, sagging against Hannibal in an effort to relax himself and stave off more orgasms. There was no fight left in him.

“I must apologize for my earlier behavior,” Hannibal gently broke through the silence, when their bodies were breathing as one. His tone of voice had a certain fragility that Will was not familiar with. A sense of shame, disgraced, to be anything less than a true gentleman. Will could have laughed at it, if only he remembered how. He felt Hannibal's fingers on his back, stroking up and down his sore skin. Bruises were probably already forming underneath. Hannibal sighed against his neck. “I was rather... overwhelmed.” The hot stream of air felt like a tingle against the drying sweat on his skin. Will swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as something inside him wavered. Hannibal must have been as much overtaken and unprepared as he had been, safe for the part where he knew he was an Alpha. Something uncontrollable, for such a controlling man, it was an almost cruel irony.

“I'm an Omega,” Will whispered, clutching his arms tightly around himself. There was a screaming urge to deny it, but there was no point. No other possible explanation to any of it. He was dripping slick around a knot in his ass. He was an Omega. “You're an Omega,” Hannibal hummed in agreement as he pressed soft lips to the back of his neck. “My true and only Omega.”

Will grew cold inside the cocoon of his hot skin and his breath stuttered at the feeling of featherlight presses of lips beneath his ear. His Omega, he said. Hannibal's Omega. “No, no, no, no...,” he mouthed, whispered, lips restless around the repeated word as he squeezed his eyes shut against the mattress under his head, burying his face into the white cover. Hannibal's arms tightened around him once before loosening. “Shhh, stay calm, easy breathing,” he whispered, commanded, and Will felt those words like a caressing stream of warm water against his skin. His body obeyed, went slack, and Will stopped his squirming.

Hannibal. It had to be Hannibal. Will wasn't even truly surprised. It was not hard to remember the first time their eyes had met, many years before. It wasn't hard to remember every passing day since either. Something about Hannibal had always been alluring to him, there was a weakness, a path through unchartered territory that had always excited him. He had never denied that their connection was more and stronger and much much deeper than he could ever give shape in his head. And the most dangerous of it was that he had always wanted to follow Hannibal on that path, in that dark place without morals or boundaries. It was why he had given up, those years ago and sent Hannibal away before he would tumble into Hell with him and become what he feared himself to be. But that forbidden path inside him, hidden from sight behind a fence of politeness, quiet evenings at home and hard work, it had never disappeared. It hadn't even faded.

And now Hannibal said he was his, that they belonged together, Alpha and Omega. Biologically speaking, Will believed him. He believed him because he felt it too, and there was no doubt in his mind that that part was true. Physically they were an obvious match, but he had not forgotten who Hannibal really was, behind the skin. He had escaped that Hannibal, successfully, years ago. Now he was here with him, on the floor....“Oh God,” he breathed again, and felt Alpha lips smiling against his neck.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Hannibal's voice stroked at him and Will bit his lip, stifling another moan when Hannibal's hips pressed close, pushing himself even deeper inside. “Ohhh,” Will whimpered shamefully in a mix of hopelessness and deep, deep pleasure. “I felt it when you presented,” Hannibal said, accent thick and voice hot against Will's neck. There was more than just the calm he had heard before. There was a warmth, a heat, excitement. “It awoke a primal yearning in me that only stopped screaming until I could touch you.” Will closed his eyes, knowing that feeling so well he could still relive the furious cries and the dragging nails inside his mind.

“I felt it when you left your home,” Hannibal continued, lips to Will's ear and every word thick with his curling accent. “I felt it when you entered this building,” Will's head lolled back of its own accord, feeling Hannibal's smooth cheek against his stubble. “The moment I saw you I almost wept tears of joy.” Knuckles caressed his cheekbones, one hand pressed over his heart. “But when I smelled you, properly smelled you, my heart sang the most beautiful hymn,” lips pressed close to his temple and Will, despite everything he wished to do, melted back into the warmth his body so longed for, “praising you over any God.”

“I heard it,” Will admitted weakly, cradled safely by arms that stilled the rising battle within. His mind tried, tried so hard, to remember the faces of his family. To remember what they sounded like, smelled like, what they talked about during dinner. But right now, it wasn't there. His body craved but one touch, and his mind remembered only one voice. A voice that caressed him like a warm Summer breeze. “We are connected,” Hannibal spoke softly, humming the words close to his ear. A nose inhaled against his neck and Will remembered a memory wrapped in misty pleasure, the hint of teeth that scraped against his flesh, his throat, his glands. Hannibal inhaled the scent of him with his nose pressed into the dip of Will's shoulder. “You smell like autumn rain, falling in the woods. The decay of dead leaves on wet soil,” Hannibal murmured, positively worshipping Will with his voice as he held on to his naked belly with two flat hands. Will shuddered, for reasons all wrong, but he couldn't be helped. “Why is this happening?” he said, broken words hissed between his teeth. He didn't look back, not even when a chin rested on his shoulder. “Why now?” He knew he sounded frightened and resented every bit of it as he tried not to sink inside the warm pool of golden Alpha male.

“You were ready now,” Hannibal said patiently, running gentle fingers down his sides. Will's body ached for that touch, reeled under it, but inside his head he fought the mindless desire under his skin with whatever he had left in him. This was Hannibal who was touching him, who had fucked him – far, far away from his life and his home. Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal fucking Lecter. And the cruel joke was, every part of him allowed it, craved it, needed it. It was all so, so wrong. Sick. And he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that it was everything Hannibal had ever wanted.

Will froze when a hideous thought suddenly crept through his head. “It was you,” he pushed out through his clenched teeth. “You did this to me.” He swallowed hard, angry, remembering just where it had all gone wrong. “That letter...,” he finally twisted his head to face Hannibal, watching one sharp cheekbone, and an amber eye close to his face. Hannibal smiled at him, an honest joy to see him as he ran his nose along the side of Will's. It was animal devotion that could have made Will weep in anger, weakness, boneless desire.

“I gave up the hope that you would present for me many moons ago,” Hannibal said in the same lazy voice he had used before, not at all riled up by the accusation. “But I will not deny it's everything I could have wished for.” Will's ears flamed red as he turned his head away from the affectionate nudges. “It was deliberate. That letter. Your scent...,” his anger spiked, his nostrils flared when all he heard behind him was an endeared chuckle. “I had no way of knowing, but it never hurts to try,” Hannibal said into his ear and Will shuddered against him. Hannibal and him, their lives and attraction had been a web of obsession and pain. And now he was trapped in this situation where his body had suddenly decided for him that he belonged to the monster of which he had wanted to free himself. It seemed like faith's cruel, cruel joke.

Teeth started to graze against his throat again, Will's breath stuttered and his body froze. “I wish you would let me bite you so I could show you what you already know,” Hannibal said, a dark edge around his words. “We belong together in every way nature has provided.” Will whimpered, feeling his body weakening and his ass growing even slicker around Hannibal's knot. “No, no,” he moaned, forcing himself to hold still and fighting the urge to grind down against Hannibal's pelvis. “I want us to be bonded. Entirely,” Hannibal said with an earnest voice, filled with longing. “No,” Will gasped again. Their embrace was tight and strong and lasted several seconds too long until Hannibal loosened his grip on him. He didn't speak, but held a low rumble in his chest.

“You knew about me.” Will stuttered after a short silence, breath raging in his tight chest. “You knew I was an Omega.” Hannibal melted against his back and exhaled against his skin. “I have hoped,” he admitted, “and I have waited.” Will gasped when lips kissed his ear. He had waited. Waited for Will to present, while he himself had never, ever even entertained the possibility. Never had Hannibal mentioned this to him. “I never even knew you were an Alpha,” Will breathed, shaking his head as he felt Hannibal's forehead against his hair. “It wasn't in my best interest to tell anyone,” Hannibal said, a small smile stretching against Will's skin, which caused it to tighten as waving heat pulsed inside his body. “Of course,” Will said, soft and dry. “Super strength, speed, eyes... convenient traits for the Chesapeake ripper.”

They lay in silence, locked in their embrace and Will could feel exhaustion crawling on his bones like maggots on the dead. He wished to stay awake, to understand, to fight everything he could fight, just to say he had tried, but there was nothing left in him to give. “Sleep now,” Hannibal spoke into his hair. “We won't have much longer than an hour, maybe two.”

Will swallowed, blinking in confusion. “Before what?” he asked, voice hoarse. Hannibal breathed a small chuckle and caressed the skin of his arm with soft strokes. “Before your heat will demand us to do all of this again,” he said and Will bit his lip to stifle a moan as he jerked his hips in pure and utter shock. “Oh God.” Helpless desperation mingled with shameful desire inside. Hannibal bit gently on his shoulder and curled up, body soft and loose with sleep.

Minutes ticked away before Will could close his eyes as he stared into the wrecked prison cell. “I'm an Omega,” he said, quietly into the room, shivering against the delicious heat of Hannibal's body. Hannibal's lips pressed under his earlobe as he hummed against his skin. “You're my Omega.”

Chapter Text

On the inside of his eyes, Will was being held down to the ground by strong, Alpha arms, forced on his back as he watched a broad chest rocking over him, onto him. He was being fucked hard and fast by a large Alpha cock that drove deep inside his body until he was fuller than he knew he had ever been. It was hot and strong and wet and it went on and on, growing hotter and wetter still as he heard himself begging for hard and deep and more, more, more. The air around him grew rich with the scent of their mating, sweat poured down their burning skin and then... Will opened his eyes from his dream and found himself empty on a mattress of the prison floor.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, arching his back as he reached for his hard, dripping cock against his belly. He was so wet, so hard, so desperate to be touched. Everything below the belt and above the knees was screaming from the agonizing emptiness he felt inside and in a frantic search for something to press back on. He was dripping obscenely as slick, hot like fire, poured from between his ass cheeks, down to his knees and soaking through the mattress he had slept on.

His hand on his cock added nothing but a strain to his aching need and Will whined like a wounded animal before he sat himself upright with wild, searching eyes. He snarled wantonly when he saw Hannibal fast asleep on his back beside him, in all his naked glory. The fog that had blinded Will's heated mind returned to him in all its intensity and he whined pitifully at the sight of his exposed and available Alpha. The flames within Will were scorching, restlessly maddening, and all he could think about was how much Hannibal's touch on him, inside him, had become a violent necessity.

He had to have it now, now, fucking now. He moved to his knees to crawl close to the sleeping Alpha and felt the slick seeping from between his cheeks onto his thighs, along with a stream of the Alpha's semen that had still been deeply embedded inside his body. The scent of their essences mixed together made Will's cock bounce stiffly against his belly as he whimpered under his breath, feeling it wade around him like a soft blanket against the winter cold.

He leaned over the sleeping form of his Alpha, who didn't wake under his stare. Hannibal's eyes shifted beneath his closed lids, indicating how deeply he was under and Will wondered briefly if what he saw in his sleep was similar to Will's own heated dream. The Alpha's cock, perhaps peaked by Will's pheromones that lay thick in the air around them, or the mingling scent of their sex, or maybe the filthy dream inside his head, caused him to lie completely hard and thick against the coarse, graying hair of his belly.

Will looked at the thick veins, the hard, gorged flesh and the large, swollen head that already shone wet with his own fluid and he was overcome by a clawing, untamable need to have it inside his body, to fill the painfully empty void. There was room for nothing else inside Will's heated mind and, bold as the Omega inside him presented itself to be, Will climbed over the sleeping body of Hannibal and straddled his hips with his slick thighs.

“Fuck,” Will whimpered again. The nearness and the feel of that warm skin against his was already a soothing balm to the burning ache. Hannibal rolled his head to the side, remaining in a deep slumber as Will's hands ran through the thick fur of his chest and over the strong, broad shoulders. Will needed him. He needed his Alpha. He reached behind him for the big, hard Alpha cock that poked against his back and lifted his hips to place the large tip against his hole. No preparation, this time.

The thick head pushed against his entrance as he lowered himself, feeling it breach the rim as it slowly slipped past the ring of muscles and inside his body. “Fuck, ohh fuck,” a painful moan ripped from Will's throat, as he felt the burning stretch of his insides spreading a most glorifying pleasure to his bones. This was what he wanted, this was what he needed. This. This. This.

Hannibal's head lolled back on the mattress, a groan rising from deep within his chest as Will lowered himself further, all the way, until his ass was flat against the root of Hannibal's thick cock. The stretch inside him was deep and wide and too much for his inexperienced body, but the fill was wrecking him with entwined agony and ecstasy that made him sob out against his own trembling shoulder. “Ohhhh, fuck, yes.”

Hannibal did not wake, but the growl that rose from his throat was now consistently there as drops of transpiration formed in his hairline and his hands grabbed blindly for Will's hips with nails clawing at the skin of his thighs. Will gasped, doubling over on Hannibal's chest as he started to rock his hips against his body, moving his Alpha in and out of him with harsh pants from between his lips and a continuous flutter of his lashes.

Hannibal's eyes rolled behind his lids, his head moved restlessly against the mattress, his nails sunk deep into the flesh of the Omega's thighs as Will fucked himself on his cock with high whines and low grunts. Teeth flashed sharp behind the Alpha's lips before a vicious snarl ripped from his throat and tiger eyes of gold and blood suddenly sprung open.

Wide, alert, but confused with sleep, those bloodied eyes searched wildly for his Omega and a violent growl escaped his throat when he looked up at Will straddling his hips. Hands tightened on Will's skin as the Omega sunk back down around Hannibal, feeling him deeper inside than ever before as their eyes connected in the heated fury and fog of their frenzied need.

Will wailed with every thrust down and saw the predator eyes of his mate rolling back when he clenched around him and took him in all the way, roaring at the filled, stretched feeling his body had been dying for. Will continued to move his hips until Hannibal reached for them with strong hands and tilted his pelvis forward to change the angle of his cock inside Will's body.

This position made Will shudder violently on top of him when Hannibal successfully aimed for his prostate, and without a chance to recover, Hannibal pulled Will down by the neck, claiming the smaller man in a hungry, violent kiss between sharp teeth, that left them both with lips swollen and bleeding as they brushed and licked and tasted each other. In their embrace, Hannibal was holding down Will's body with both arms around his back and fucked into him, hard and fast and cruelly as Will cried out in long, high bursts through his nose.

Will's prostate was abused with brutal force and Hannibal held him down until the Omega sobbed and cried real tears into his neck from the maddening over-stimulation that set him alight with a torturous, blinding bliss. The Alpha licked a hot strip across Will's cheek, catching the salty tears before he released the back of his neck and pushed Will back up on his body again. “Ride me,” his voice croaked, watching through hooded lids as he slid his hands over Will's quivering belly. Will trembled and arched as he leaned back and lowered himself further, releasing a high-pitched howl when he felt himself stretching deeper again around the Alpha inside of him.

The Omega's noises made Hannibal run sharp nails over his Will's lithe, smooth body, leaving red marks on already marked skin. Will rolled his hips, lifting himself off of Hannibal's cock before forcing him back into the tight, slick hole of his body with the grace of a rider on a horse. It was a seductive dance of his slender body, pushing back and forth to work himself over his Alpha, who scratched desperately against his thighs and belly as Will picked up the speed to chase after his own hungry hunt for pleasure. His prostate was still swollen from their previous mating, and every drag of Hannibal's fat head against the little nub inside of him made his thighs quiver and his cock leak on itself.

He bounced himself faster on his Alpha, throwing back his head with closed eyes as he pushed his hips forwards and fucked himself on Hannibal's cock with real and true abandon. He was chasing something powerful, and – fuck, it felt so, so good.

Hannibal moaned, growled, bared his teeth, voluntarily helpless under his mate as he watched his mate and ran wild hands over Will's body until he reached one hand around the Omega's cock. YES, Will's body screamed, arching into the fingers around him. Hannibal's hand rubbed against the sensitive skin of his cock, pumping him with his large hand and one smooth thumb on the slit while his own erection was still sliding in and out of Will's slick and tight, pulsating body.

Will felt the magnificent fullness, the hot, thick cock against his prostate, dragging inside of him with every roll of his hips, and the large, strong hand on his leaking cock. It was perfection. Never had his life been better. Never had it been complete. Will felt his orgasm like a tight fist deep in his core as he clenched hard, hard, hard around Hannibal's cock and threw his head back with a loud, high, Omega wail as he spurted white shots of cum over Hannibal's chest and hit the underside of the Alpha's chin. Never before had he felt so good and he never wanted it to stop.

He didn't still his hips, insatiably hungry as Hannibal held his thighs and fucked up through the clenched, tightening of his body. Meeting his thrust harder and harder as Will felt the now familiar thickening at the base of Hannibal's cock starting to form against his ass cheeks, rubbing the outside of his opening. Will bounced against the swelling knot, crying out at the wideness against his ass, until Hannibal pushed himself up and held down Will's hips hard, forcing the knot inside the Omega's swollen hole with powerful thrusts. Will snarled, Hannibal growled, both snapped and nipped at each other mouths with vicious teeth as the knot stretched Will so far he saw nothing but sharp, red stars before his eyes. It hurt him. It hurt him so, so good.

Will fell boneless against Hannibal's chest and the remains of his own release that still clung to the Alpha's skin. Hannibal, however, refused to let him go slack as he grabbed both his arms and shoved himself as far as he could go inside Will's body before holding the Omega tight against him and released deep, deep inside his mate. Will felt himself filling again and all he could think about was bliss, bliss, pure fucking bliss. It was so right, so very right to feel himself so whole with his Alpha's seed inside his belly. For once, he was happy. His mind peacefully void of the noises that lived there. Purpose fulfilled.

Will's body was aggressively manhandled by another orgasm that ripped through his loins when the knot inside his hole grew into its full size and got caught behind the rim of his opening. He spasmed against Hannibal's sticky chest as the Alpha stroked large hands over his back and shoulders, as far as he could reach, holding on to his weakened Omega's shivering body. Will buckled, feeling more semen spurt from his own, untouched cock and clenched his body harder around Hannibal, who, in his turn, groaned at him and coated his insides further with his release. They were a continues mess of moans and cries, whimpers and growls and pleasure, pleasure, so much mind numbing, maddening pleasure.

They stilled after long, long moments in each other's embrace as Hannibal let himself fall backwards on the mattress, bringing Will along with him through their connection. Will buried his nose under Hannibal's chin, scenting his glands and accidentally smearing his nose with the remains of his own semen. They breathed, chest to chest, as silence settled around them. Every now and then, one of them shifted inside or clenched around the other, and together they would shudder and gritted their teeth, until they could both take no more.

There was a thin blanket on the floor, belonging on the prison bed, and Hannibal managed to drag it over Will to shield him from the naked air and the naked eye. Will's hands rested on Hannibal's shoulders as the Alpha stroked lazily over Will's spine and for another moment, there was that white cloud, that unfamiliar silence within him that made him want to close his eyes, ready to doze off with his nose buried in the Alpha's neck

“They brought us food,” Hannibal spoke close to his ear, startling Will with the sudden smooth tones of his foreign accent. The Omega cracked open one eye, looking up at his mate and then following the direction of his gaze. In front of the hatch in the glass door, there was a food tray with its contents hidden by a gray, plastic cover on top. “Not that we are in any position to get it,” the Alpha groaned, stretching his back as he ran his hands under the sheets and over Will's ass until his fingers brushed exactly where their bodies were joined. Will didn't feel it. He didn't feel it when Hannibal reached up to nuzzle his jaw and he didn't feel the deep purr that rose from the warm chest underneath him.

That tray, that stupid plastic tray, the sight of it cleared the fog from his mind and the heat from his belly like a vacuum. “Fuck,” his shoulders shook at the visual proof of a world outside this room and he could almost hear the bursting of the bubble they had created for themselves. Someone had been here. They had been seen together, sleeping, or worse. Maybe Alana, maybe even Jack. Maybe all of them. Everyone. They had seen them losing their minds on each other, him and Hannibal, mating like rabid animals. And what if they reached out to Molly? What if they told her about him? Showed her what was happening?

“Fuck. No. We can't keep doing this,” Will cursed, shoving himself up on his arms and off the hairy chest to look Hannibal in the eyes, by which he only pressed himself further down on the Alpha's cock. Will stifled a whimper inside his throat as Hannibal openly showed his appreciation by holding the Omega's hips down tightly with both hands. Their eyes met, tiger gold and ocean depths. Hannibal blinked, a small smile on his lips as he wiped a curl out of Will's eyes and stared back up at him. “You're in heat, Will. What do you presume is going to happen?” he asked, sincere, endeared by Will's naivety.

Will looked down at the familiar face of his old psychiatrist, his long-lost... friend had never been the appropriate term... Hannibal. Dr. Hannibal Lecter. For the first time since their reunion, he had the sense, the clarity and the angle to look and see him like the man he had once known. It had been so long, but even after all these years, his bone structure remained a sin. He had changed in appearance, the short, silver hair, the deepened wrinkles around his eyes and the slight softening of his waist, and yet he was exactly like Will remembered him. “When will it end?” he asked with shaky breaths, trying to ignore the caressing hands on his sides and the wide knot inside his body. “Soon,” Hannibal answered, touching dry fingertips to Will's pale skin. “An Omega's heat lasts mere days.”

Amber eyes shone up at Will, who swallowed at the heat that spread across his chest and face under the Alfa's open stare. “And then I can go home?” he asked, letting his eyes drop to the gray chest hair under his fingers. Hands ran up over his bare back before gently pressing down on his shoulder blades, folding Will's body back against the Alpha's chest. Will followed the guiding hands, feeling his weak muscles eager to comply as he placed his cheek on Hannibal's ribs. The knot inside of him pulled at his opening and Will heard a sharp inhale against his curls as he tried to stop his thighs from quivering.

“Do you know what we are, Will?” Hannibal said close to his ear, his voice soft and patient and much like he remembered it from those days in his office. Will scraped the scruff of his face as he tried to lift his chin on Hannibal's sternum. “You're an Alpha,” he said, not trying to hide the uneasiness in his voice. “I'm an Omega,” he looked up, but failed to see anything but the stretch of lips over a defined jawline. “You are my Omega,” Hannibal corrected him. “I am your Alpha.” The tone was light, but the inflictions were bright and clear.

A hand stroked over Will's shoulder to the back of his neck, but the Omega twisted his head away at the touch and the implication.“We are not bonded,” he hissed under Hannibal's chin. “You didn't bite me.” He felt the Alpha tilting his head in an attempt to look at him. “No,” Hannibal confirmed and their eyes met briefly, before both felt the strain in their necks and sagged back down into their previous positions. “But we are destined mates. You presented... for me.” Will heard the rumble of Hannibal's voice deep inside his chest as he lay with his cheek against the warm skin. “I don't know what that means,” he said, feeling fingers brushing through the messy curls on his head.

Hannibal breathed, and the rise and fall of his chest cradled Will with a steady, strong pace. “The male Omega is a most rare occurrence, Will,” rumbled the warm chest against his ear. “They only present when their subconscious mind finds a need for it, and when they meet a highly compatible Alpha with whom they want to bond.” There was a soft purr that rumbled beneath the words and spread throughout the Alpha's body as he stroked Will's back with strong, steady, open hands. Will tried not to melt into the touch and pressed his lips into a tight, stubborn line. “I wouldn't say want,” he said defiantly. “It wasn't a choice.”

Hannibal's hands ran lower, cupping around his ass and sliding spread fingers along where his cock disappeared into Will. His touch made the Omega clench down hard as bursts of deep pleasure shot from his opening to his belly button. “Don't... Fuck,” Will hissed, holding himself still against his Alpha as Hannibal slid his hands back up and settled on Will's waist with a content sigh. They lay there, together, both shuddering lightly from the pleasure that fizzed beneath their skin.

“So what now?” Will said against Hannibal's collarbone “I have to come back with every heat?” The thought alone grabbed him by the throat as he envisioned Molly, his home. He had a life, a comfortable place in the world where everything he saw inside his mind could safely stay there. He didn't know how often an Omega went through heats like these, but it would certainly interfere with everything he had worked so hard for, and with who he had worked so hard to be. If he had to be with Hannibal... If he had to come back to Hannibal...

There was a sigh inside the chest he was using as a pillow. “Will,” Hannibal said, patience and endearment laced around his voice as he stroked those restless hands down Will's messy curls. “Our connection is extraordinarily strong. I would even dare to say it is the ultimate. We are mates by the choice of our deepest, most primal subconsciousness, and even unbonded, living without each other will be nothing but unbearable,” he spoke gently, never ceasing his caresses as Will's breathing stopped, hitched and stuttered. “W-what?” he stammered, trying to lift his head up as he felt his chest pulling tight like a vacuum. “That can't be true.” His ocean eyes were widened and searching as they met a flash of gold.

“We will discuss all of it in due time, Will, do not stress yourself. Right now you are tired and you are in heat,” Hannibal said, calm, like a teacher lecturing a slow student, and Will bit hard onto his own lip as he felt his temperature rising hot red. “You're lying to me,” he hissed and knitted his eyebrows tight in an outraged frown, hands resting on Hannibal's sternum. Hannibal ran a soothing thumb over the wrinkled skin between his eyes and smiled that rueful smile he often used when pained. “You can choose not to fight this. It will not change the outcome,” he said, tilting his head to one side as he dropped his hands from the Omega's face. Will breathed, feeling weak and breakable under those eyes as he looked down at his fingers in Hannibal's chest hair. They drew meaningless patterns on Hannibal's skin in an unconscious, nervous gesture. “What did you expect?” Will asked with a humorless chuckle. “For me to pack my bags and move in here?”

“I'll admit the circumstances are unfortunate,” Hannibal said, looking around his wrecked, once stylishly decorated, prison cell. “But this is nothing we cannot overcome.” Will followed his gaze around the room and huffed, a bitter laugh in his throat. He had walked from the man years ago, and here Hannibal was thinking this prison cell was the only reason they weren't shacking up. Will breathed in deep, feeling stuck on the tiny tip of that gigantic, hidden iceberg under water. “I have a wife,” he said, catching Hannibal's eye. “I have a family.” He tried to keep his eyes on Hannibal this time, hard, steady, real, but Hannibal merely smiled at his words, stroking his cheek with his fingers. “I am aware and unsurprised that you have found your much needed window dressing, Will,” he said, cupping Will's face with loving fingers as he stroked a curl behind his ear. The smile around his lips stretched, showing a hint of sharp teeth behind soft lips as the tiger eyes glistened with predatory pleasure, and blood. “But you were always mine.”

Chapter Text

Hannibal's words had slashed their way through Will, raw and vile and with a pain that felt ripping, exposing flesh and bone beneath his skin. Those words, they had been spoken so loving, when they had been so, so cruel. Will wanted nothing more for those words to hurt him, bruise him, to make him so angry he could lash out and growl, bite and spit fire at the man who seemed so eager to disrupt his well-earned family life, and merely smiled at the mention of everything important to him. But even when he tried to summon those feelings of outrage, they remained a distant vision in the embrace of his Alpha. Instead, he felt a warmth he couldn't shake, secure inside a cocoon of strong arms. He felt safe and soft and cherished and he wished such feelings, given their roots, would make him cry, claw, rebel...but familiar skin surrounded him and then the chest under his head became a white, fluffy cloud that he floated on, soft and warm and quiet. He fell asleep.

They were separated when Will woke up a short hour later, covered by the prison blanket drawn up to his shoulders. He rolled to his back and sat up, supported by his arms, and spotted his Alpha on the far end of the mattress with a thin, white sheet around his waist and a half eaten sandwich in his hands. Hannibal's eyes had already been watching, and scanned over Will's face with an unhidden spark that lit up his golden eyes when the Omega blinked sleepily at him.

“You should eat,” the Alpha said, pushing the gray tray towards him with a careful push of his fingers. Will eyed the plastic cups of water and bland, whitebread sandwiches with an unidentifiable spread. Tuna from a can, going by the scent. “But know that it pains me not being able to offer you something of... nutritional value and taste,” Hannibal said with longing eyes and disapproving, tightened lips as he shredded the bread between his teeth and chewed with a weak, unenthusiastic grinding of his jaw. “If I ever have the pleasure of meeting the hospital's cook, I will not neglect to teach him the finer points of the culinary arts.”

Will took a deep breath, blinking away the image that popped into his mind, of Hannibal harvesting the organs of a tied up, still living cook and instructing him on how to perfectly marinade his kidneys. Will watched Hannibal eating the stale bread and felt the disapproval, the disgust, the outrage the Alpha exuded towards his meal. He felt it deep down in his bones, without even needing to look at him.

“It must be torture for you to eat this food every day, given your proclivity for life's finer things,” he said, feeling nothing but both Hannibal's and his own distaste when he looked at the offered food in front of him. Hannibal looked up, and Will didn't miss the way his eyes burned hot over him at the mention of 'finer things'. He ignored the blood that pumped up to fill his cheeks and stared right back at the Alpha. “Yet you choose to be here, voluntarily.”

Hannibal smiled fondly at his words, a small jerk of his lips around his mouth. “I close my eyes and eat my own cooking, at my own table,” he said, demonstrating as he shut his lids and let his shoulders sag in relaxation. Will knew it was just that easy for him to be elsewhere, even while locked within these four walls. “In your mind palace,” he said, and Hannibal's eyes popped open – redder, deeper, darker. “We've met there,” he said, leaning closer to Will, like a subconscious, magnetic pull was reeling them together. Will wet his lips with his tongue as he looked at the silver hair, the sharp bones, the paled skin. “We have,” he admitted. He could never forget those moments, where their minds had been aligned so perfectly they had been able to step into each other's worlds as one. Blurred, conjoined. It had been the darkest, most liberating feeling. Terrifying.

“When we bond, our meetings there will no longer be coincidental,” Hannibal said, a spark in his eyes as he leaned back to his previous position and took a casual sip from his cup of water. Will could only manage a grimace at the outrageous confidence behind those words, and turned his eyes back to the tray. Next to it were two folded, pale gray pieces of cloth that Will recognized by the color. “I think this is their way of asking us to put some clothes on,” Hannibal commented with a chuckle behind his teeth. “But I think that would be rather redundant, at least for another while.”

Will basked in Hannibal's familiarity, which, after everything that had happened, felt exactly the way it shouldn't. It was comfort, a warm blanket that he wanted to bury himself in. A safe shade in the vicious sunlight. Will wished to hate it with the purest rage he could muster, but all that bitterness was lost in the sweet, fiery shimmer of the thick, foggy scent of autumn and winter and home.

When Will bent forward to pick up the tray, he was hit by another scent. One that curled dangerously in his nostrils and made his muscles tense. It was on the food. It was on the clothes. “Alana was here,” Will said, remembering how the thought of another presence had occurred to him before, before he had fallen asleep on top of and around Hannibal. A tight panic rose in his chest and he drew the blanket higher around his shoulders. She must have walked in here. “She probably saw us.” The thought was... it was mindbogglingly unacceptable. Even if they had been asleep, they would still have been connected, together. For him to be seen like that, with him, by her...

Hannibal's eyes shot up to the ceiling overhead. “Do you see that red, little light in the corner, Will?” he said, nodding to a small black square device with a red, steady light. “Everything that is said and done here is recorded, taped and watched by security,” he mentioned it as a side thought, not worth an extra blink, but Will felt himself gasping against the strangling, stabbing fear that flashed behind his ribs, squeezed his lungs and made his cheeks burn scorchingly, excruciatingly hot. “Oh God. Oh God, no. No, no, no” he stammered, trying to keep his breath steadily and his shoulders low as the shock spread like wildfire through his veins.

“You don't even care that we were watched, doing what we did?” he spat at Hannibal, who was calmly sipping from his plastic cup of lukewarm water and watched him with amber eyes. “There is no shame in what we did,” Hannibal said, careful with his chosen words. “But I'll admit the notion is a little... intrusive.” Intrusive. Intrusive, he called it. It was a downright violation. Who could say what would happen to such tapes? “God. What if they show this to Molly?” Will wheezed, mostly to himself as he grabbed the hair on his temples between his fingers and bowed his head between his knees.

He could picture it. Molly standing in the control room, watching Hannibal and himself doing the things they had done. The tears in her eyes before she looked away a stormed out of the room. He tried to build it in his head, picturing her screaming and yelling and brokenheartedly kicking a chair. He was desperately looking for that feeling of devastation, guilt, grief, but even with his skin hot with shame, he found it hard to feel anything over the way his body oozed pleasant warmth, sitting near Hannibal.

“I doubt they will be so cruel to show such footage to your wife,” Hannibal stated dryly, handing him the untouched sandwich in the tray. “Eat.” Will did eat, tasting nothing, and he did drink, tasting the plastic of the cup. It didn't matter. He had not been hungry or thirsty to begin with He only felt the steadily rising heat behind his pelvis, the growing slick against the mattress, the half-hard cock against his thigh. And Hannibal, he was sitting there with his tousled hair, his bare chest, the toes that peaked from under the sheet. Inside him, the animal whined, high and desperate, for his Alpha.

He shook it off, hard and determined, as he ate his stupid, useless sandwich and tried not to feel Hannibal's eyes on his throat, or the red dot of the camera on the back of his head. “This is insanity,” he croaked, feeling the sandwich sit awkwardly in his stomach as he tightened fingers in his hair, huddled under the blanket. He glanced sideways after a silence, seeing Hannibal's eyes on him with a curious concern, hidden underneath dark, dark predatorial lust. “How did you know I was an Omega?” Will asked, swallowing away the dry bread that lingered in his throat. Hannibal blinked, as if in a trance, bloody gold eyes never off the Omega. With those bare toes wiggling from underneath his sheet, he was as nonthreatening as a sunbathing lion. “I wasn't certain, I told you...,” he started, but Will held up his hand.“You suspected it. Why?” he demanded, pulling the blanket tight around his throat to cover every inch of skin. In the corner of his eye, the bright dot of the camera made him hunch over with unease.

“It was numerous things,” Hannibal said after a moment of contemplation. “You are an extraordinary empath, for one.” An adoring squint of those eyes made Will's skin tighten. “Your talent is to see people in their truest form and to understand their motives, their emotions and their intentions, without needing a single word exchanged between you,” Hannibal leaned in closer, lids low on his eyes as he dipped his head to scent Will close to his shoulder. “So?” Will asked, instinctively inching closer and feeling his own eyes fluttering at the nearing heat, when he knew he should be leaning back. Hannibal smiled, revealing one fang behind his lips. “It is a very primal quality, instinct,” he practically purred in pleasure and self-indulgence. “That is what I recognized in you. That bestial spirit.”

Will's lips parted at the unhidden adoration in Hannibal's tone, and the very clear shimmer of arousal that poked through the words. He inhaled sharply, mouth dry and eyes wide as Hannibal's chest rumbled gently underneath skin and bone. “Dogs gravitate towards you, because you understand their needs,” he said. “You speak their language.” Will's lips twitched at the mention of his dogs. A notion of pride and grief both at once as he looked back at Hannibal, helplessly enchanted by his words. “And then there is your need for solitude, your love of the outdoors, your preference to lure instead of hunt.”

Hannibal's words were warm, almost corporeal against his skin, kisses on frostbite. “God,” Will swallowed shakily, tightening his fingers in the blanket around his body. Hannibal stretched out his legs, revealing strong, hairy shins that peeked out from underneath the sheet. “And the lack of body hair...,” he added, an afterthought with a hint of teasing, and Will whipped his head back up to glower at the Alpha. “I can grow a beard in less than a week,” he bit back, running a hand over the days old scruff on his chin. He was an Omega, but he was not, by any means, effeminate.

“But the rest of your body is smooth, and petite. Delicate,” Hannibal said, his voice factual, if not for the underlaying smolder around the brim of his eyes. Will saw it and bared his teeth at the man across from him. “I'm not petite. I'm average,” he said, color high and bright on his cheekbones at the implication. Hannibal smiled with teeth bared, running a subtle tongue over his lower lip. “Average is not a word I would use to describe you,” he said, running those tiger eyes over the blush on Will's neck and face.

Will turned away, huffing and wrapping two arms around his waist. He was smaller than Hannibal, yes. In every imaginable way, certainly. But he was not petite. He was not delicate, Goddammit. “Was that a satisfying answer to your question?” Hannibal probed, and Will shot him a sharp look. “You could have told me about your suspicion. There was a time we talked rather a lot,” he reminded Hannibal stiffly and ignoring the glimmering self-assuredness that always swam in the Alpha's temperance, even beneath the lustful, tiger eyes. “Will watched Hannibal's eyes lower briefly before meeting him again.

“I wanted it to take you by surprise,” he answered, his face softening with sincerity, and Will closed his eyes for a brief moment. “You were curious to see what would happen,” he said, soft spoken, remembering the cruel times he had heard those words. But Hannibal shook his head once, and pressed thoughtful fingers to his lips before he spoke. “Had you known about me, you might have chosen to never set foot inside this facility,” he answered and Will felt his mouth go dry. Hannibal had done everything in his power to claim him, to have him, to bring out the beast in him, he had no doubt and the thought scared him.

It also made him hot. Very, very, uncomfortably hot. It was a sharp stab deep inside his belly and it made a trickle of slick stain the blanket around his thighs. It was just there, beyond his control. “Is this what an Omega is?” Will moaned out his frustration as he squirmed, shifting on the dirty mattress. Hannibal's nostrils widened momentarily before their eyes met. Both knew where this was heading and there was no way to stop it. “You have a lot to learn about yourself, Will,” the Alpha said, subconsciously biting into his own bottom lip. “And the moment your heat ends, I will teach you everything you need to know.” Will heard Hannibal's breathing become tighter, less effortless, and he felt his own sync up.

“Oh, I understand perfectly fine,” Will said, trying to keep his voice steady as he let the warm blanket slide an inch off his shoulders. “I am a slave to my own biology, my reproductive organs. I'm an animal.” Hannibal's eyes didn't miss the sliver of exposed skin and Will almost felt his hungry stare like a touch. Their conversation, however, did not waver. “On the contrary, Will,” Hannibal said, “becoming an Alpha or an Omega takes nothing away from who you are.” His eyes burned so deep, so passionate, it reminded Will of the times they had talked about Italy, art, cooking, ancient Greece. Then, it had been a spark. Now, it was the fires of hell. “It does, however, open up an extra layer of depth in your consciousness. One that was always there, but never truly experienced. It offers you your truest form of self-awareness. It's honest, pure, instinct.” Both men were slowly leaning forward on the mattress, chest heaving and pupils wide as Will felt another trickle of slick pouring from his body. Hannibal inhaled, clenched his teeth, and pulled up one corner of his lips. “It doesn't make us less, it makes us so much more,” he almost whispered, never breaking eye contact as Will shivered visibly under his words and arched his neck in an instinctual invitation he was not ready to make, or to understand. Hannibal's eyes almost fluttered, inching closer on the bed, but Will huffed at his words, clinging to his dignity and the blanket around his body.

“Honest and pure,” he murmured, swallowing hard as he shook his head, folding closer into himself. Hannibal pushed the tray from beside the bed with his bare foot, before he came to sit beside the Omega. “We instinctively know what is good for us,” the Alpha said gently, reaching out to cup Will's cheeks with his fingers. It earned the Alpha a burning stare of simultaneous lust and anger. Skin searched and pushed into his touch. “Good for us?” Will asked with silent outrage. “I'm nothing but a quivering, mindless mess.” He pulled the blanket from around his knees to show how they trembled with longing. “Being an Omega creates desires that I've never...”, but strong fingers on the bare skin of the back of that unsteady knee hushed him, and Hannibal placed a kiss below his ear. The smell of a campfire on a winter beach, with its worn wood and salty flames, was enough for Will to push his nose greedily against Hannibal's throat.

“It doesn't create, Will, it only bares,” Hannibal spoke, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “No pretense. No ethics. No more doubt.” They both pulled back, before leaping forwards again, searching each other's lips like pulling magnets in a blazing storm.

Chapter Text

Will felt himself being pulled into a kiss that strung a tight band of intrusive, inescapable pleasure around every nerve inside his body. Blinded, he reached for Hannibal's soft hair and laced his fingers through the strands as he breathed against the pink, open lips sliding against his. The gentle pressure he found was almost tender compared to the snapping teeth that had been there during their previous mating. It was forceful and demanding still, but their tongues slid together in what was more dance than combat.

Inside his chest, Will felt a feral flutter, sweeping against the layers upon layers of dust within him and celebrating the wild beating of his heart as Hannibal licked into his mouth, past his lips, and chased after his taste. Hannibal always tasted like smoke and wine and thick, rich sauce poured over red meat and it left Will hungry, hungry, hungry for everything more. He felt the blanket around his shoulders being pushed away by Hannibal's searching hands, but the air was not cold against his blazing skin. It was stroking, light, a chilling relief against the burn of the heat that sizzled and cracked beneath the surface and Will whined desperately when Hannibal growled against his mouth, shedding his own sheet from around his waist.

The Alpha moved down to kiss the skin of Will's neck, inhaling and scenting the pale, sensitive flesh before his sharp teeth grazed his glands, making the Omega shiver and whimper against the hot, dangerous mouth on him. Hannibal moved searching lips to his shoulder, nosing at his collarbone before biting down his sharp fangs into pale flesh and drawing drops of bright blood to the surface. Will moaned openly, wantonly, when he felt his skin breaking under those piercing, sharp teeth and he laced his fingers tighter in Hannibal's short hair as the Alpha licked his blood into his mouth and sucked against the broken skin to gather all he could of the coppery taste.

His hands slid over Will's belly down to the angry red, hard cock between his thighs and the keening Omega almost went completely slack in Hannibal's arms when fingers caressed the swollen head of his erection and grazed the heavy skin of his balls before pushing further down against his twitching, dripping hole. “Ohhh, yes, fuck yes,” Will pushed himself up on his knees to give Hannibal better access to his body and the Alpha pushed two shallow fingers into his wet, tight entrance. They pumped into him to the first knuckle only, gathering slick, twisting and probing before pulling back out, surprising Will and leaving him to snarl in displeasure at the Alpha beside him.

Hannibal bared his teeth, stained with blood, yet without real menace, before his strong hand curled around Will's hard shaft and started pumping the hot flesh with his naturally lubricated fingers. “Ohhh God,” Will moaned, feeling the slick skin of his sensitive cock sliding against the warmth of Hannibal's palm and building up a needy pressure in his balls. The touch was teasing, exploring, not meant to bring him to higher grounds. “Fuck, please.” It was almost torturous how that one hand pumped him, teasing and causing friction against the underside of his leaking head, while the other stroked up his thighs, his belly and over the nubs of his peaking nipples. Hannibal's lips traveled from his throat up to Will's mouth, capturing him back into wet, lazy kisses and sharp, playful nips.

The Alpha was toying with him, building up something that was already far across its border, and Will trembled at the overthrowing, fulfilling pleasure that was nothing but maddeningly unfair. It was so far from enough, and he knew his Alpha knew it, too. At this stage, this hysterical heat, they failed to understand anything more than pounce, take, breed, fuck. Nothing but the stretch and fill of his Alpha inside his body was enough to relieve the choking strain, cure the blinding madness, bring that unimaginable sense of satisfaction and peace inside Will's body and mind. But for now, he felt his insides clenching painfully around nothing and begging to be filled as his whole body throbbed at the teasing touches with the screaming need for more.

His vocabulary was very limited at these moments where his heat seared through his loins, but the deep whine that he pushed from his throat sounded a lot like “Alpha. Alpha...” Hannibal growled like a vicious, reckless wolf against Will's skin, and the Omega knew Hannibal was torturing him as much as himself by delaying their inevitable mating. Foreplay, after all, was hardly for the savage, but rather for the gentle lovers. And yet, Hannibal seemed to want to slow down for him before his rut overtook all other senses, and to pleasure him as more than a mere Omega with his ass up in the air. After his desperate, wailing cry however, Hannibal too lost the last of his restraint.

Will snarled with feral teeth when felt himself being dragged up to his feet, as Hannibal yanked him up from the mattress by his waist and a fistful of his hair and turned him over in his arms. Two steps forward, a pushing hand on his neck, and his cheek pressed hard against a wall of glass. 'YES,' his animal mind howled approval and he moaned a low whine all the way from his belly as he tilted his hips back at Hannibal, who pressed against his back and rumbled low in his ear. The Alpha's nose was in his neck, kissing and nipping at the reddening skin as one large hand spread over Will's belly and pressed, pulling him further back. “Fuck,” Will moaned, fogging the glass wall with his panting breaths as Hannibal's free hand dipped between his dripping cheeks and plugged in two impatient fingers.

That plunging touch of twisting digits inside his ass was so glorious, Will groaned with open lips against the glass and stained it with saliva. “Please. Please, Hannibal,” he heard himself begging as tears started to leak from his eyes when the Alpha stroked a fingertip against his swollen prostate. It was the first time he had used Hannibal's name during sex, which was a thought that shot through his heated brain like a fleeting snowflake. Hannibal, however, pressed himself even closer against Will's back and tilted his Omega's head with a demanding hand under his chin. His kiss was as invasive as the pumping fingers inside his body as he sucked demandingly on his tongue before pulling out his hand and positioned the large head of his cock against Will's slick, tight opening.

The sounds that erupted when he pushed in were wild, unrecognizable as anything human and Will felt his eyes rolling and his teeth baring. Mind numbing relief washed through him as his insides were filled and stretched wide and deep, bringing pleasure that expanded to his thighs and up under his ribs. “Yessss.” Hannibal pushed the long length and thick girth of his Alpha cock into the tight Omega body in one powerful stroke that left them both weak in their knees and with heads thrown back in blinding pleasure. It was deep like this, so very deep and Hannibal wasted no time fucking into Will with long, hard strokes.

Will had both of his hands flat against the glass, nails scratching and searching in vain for some grip. The side of his face was pressed against the glass wall, bumping back and forth on the bones of his cheek and chin with every thrust inside his body. Hannibal pounded his cock into him, grazing hard on his prostate with a quick pull back and a powerful thrust forward as he pressed two hands firmly against Will's lower abdomen, giving him the leverage to push inside him hard and cruel and mindblowingly right, and allowing him to feel himself moving under Will's taut skin. “Uhh, uhh, uhh,” was the continuous sound that erupted from Will's throat with every push against and inside his body.

It was as overpowering and primal as their previous fucking, but when Hannibal pulled Will's head sideways with a flat hand on the Omega's forehead and pulling fingers on his hair, the kiss they shared was one with sliding tongues instead of shredding, biting teeth. Will pushed back, hot in Hannibal's embrace as he pressed his forehead against the glass and writhed his ass back against the Alpha's body. He didn't stop until he felt Hannibal's hipbones against his ass cheeks and sobbed at the beauty of the fullness inside him. Hannibal curved him, tilted his hips with the pressing hands on his belly and ripping pleasure from his core that he could feel even behind the roof of his mouth. It was so deep, so good, he felt his face sliding lower on the glass in weakening bliss and lowered his head further to look between their bodies.

His thighs bulged with effort, quivering from the liquefying pleasure in his bones. His cock was untouched and angrily so, crying milky fluid on the head as it bounced against his belly every time Hannibal plunged back in to his body . He took mercy on himself and reached down to palm his erection while simultaneously pulling the skin of his swinging sack forth so he could see where he was being penetrated, and the sight made his cock pulse dangerously in his hand. The large, bulbous and veiny shaft stretched his leaking hole to a point where the slick rim colored a blushing shade of alarming maroon, as Hannibal's erection, angry pink and glossy with Will's lubrication, pushed into the Omega's body to the wide, thick root.

“More, please,” Will sobbed against his arm, feeling Hannibal's fingers running down his thighs and brushing the hand Will still had around his cock. He didn't give him more, however, as the pace remained hard, deep, maddeningly steady while Hannibal's lips searched to kiss his neck, ignoring the persistent buckling of Will's hips by stilling him with firm hands on his belly. The Omega inside Will growled openly through his teeth and threw his head back on Hannibal's shoulder, snapping at his neck, just one bite out of reach. “Fuck you,” he growled and Hannibal's Alpha nipped warningly at Will's lips with a wild growl and sharp fangs bared, digging blunt nails into the man's hips as he kept his steady pace on him. Hannibal didn't like vulgarity, Will recalled, and wasn't that just the paradox from bleeding hell. Will pushed himself back harder, restrained by Hannibal's strength over him, as the Alpha drove into his body with steady, slow thrusts that were all too civilized for Will's reeling hormones.

With hands on the glass, Will let himself sag forwards against the transparent wall, his body going soft and pliant against the Alpha's, who growled his approval against his neck. Will was faking defeat, giving himself over willingly to Hannibal's wishes of torturously testing his patience, but the moment he felt the hands on his body loosening, he pushed back with all his might, using arms and legs and all his strength to throw himself away from the wall and stumble backwards with full force against the Alpha's body, who grunted and searched for balance as he grabbed Will tight around the waist and stepped back one, two, three steps before toppling over backwards and onto the mattress. Will toppled back on the hissing Alpha, who yanked at his hair to nip at his ear with punishing teeth, without ever separating their bodies. But Will nuzzled the sharp fangs beside his face, feeling victorious over his stronger mate as he pushed himself up with his hands back beside Hannibal's shoulders and his legs spread over Hannibal's knees. He moaned, openly, abandoned, as he pushed himself back down the Alpha's cock, harder and faster than Hannibal had been willing to give.

Hannibal roared in anger and surprise, and sat up as he placed his hands firmly on Will's hips to steady his Omega and support his weight, thrusting up to meet Will every time he let himself fall down around the Alpha's cock. The bigger man spared him no mercy after his rebellious act, crashing their bodies together with an angry, bruising force that left them both hissing and growling and wildly desperate for release. Will wailed, pumping his hips hard and fast as he fucked himself on Hannibal's pulsating Alpha cock at his own desired pace, riding him with his back to Hannibal's front. Hannibal's hand roamed over Will's quivering thighs and belly as he let himself be fucked hard and wild by the smaller Omega. It was hot, Will thought. So fucking hot. He had never before found the time to notice anything other than the blinding heat inside his core, but now the thought simply crashed inside his mind. Will couldn't help imagine the picture they painted, and it made his balls draw tight to his body.

Hannibal groaned, loud and wet against the skin of his Omega's shoulder as his hand found Will's cock again. Warm fingers closed around his throbbing shaft before Hannibal gripped his free arm over Will's chest and pulled him backwards. Pressed flush together, Hannibal held him tight, pumped his hard cock and bit into his shoulder, groaning openly and vulgarly at the taste of Will's blood. He fucked into him harder and faster than he ever had, and the Omega screamed, wailed, howled and sobbed until he had no voice left within him, and all he could feel was his prostate being pounded on over and over, so quickly it was almost like a continuous press inside his body. A fast, light touch moved over his cock, jerking him in the rhythm of his Alpha's thrusts inside his ass and Will could feel the bulge of Hannibal's knot pressing on the outside of the rim. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” the feeling pushed him right over the steep, steep edge.

He wanted to curse, to claw, to cry out for his Alpha, but all sound got stuck in his throat as his body tightened hard and mercilessly around Hannibal's cock, who in turn clenched his arms hard around Will and released inside of the Omega with a powerful, primal growl in his mate's ear. The pleasure was a knife to his gut, biting into everything it could touch as it fought its way up and down, from toenails to eyeballs. His semen jerked and shot over his chest, onto his throat and the seam of his jaw. Hannibal's release pulsed hot inside his ass, deep and lasting as his cock continued to twitch inside of him, and his fingernails pushed into the side of his knees, drawing blood from beneath Will's skin. They pulsed and pulsed until their bodies went slack.

Ecstasy remained a burning glow inside him as Will hummed, stretched and relaxed against Hannibal, who seemed to have taken his pleasure and pulled out of his body. That was a new development, Will noticed after a long moment of nothing but golden bliss where their bodies piled together and their skin formed a cocoon of glorious warmth. Hannibal hadn't pushed his knot inside, trapping their bodies in a forced moment of togetherness. It was... it was strange, different. It was something his body had wanted and now missed, deep down inside the core of his Omega. Will wasn't sure what to think of it. He rolled off of Hannibal, an odd sense of freedom, and felt his lips twitching down at the emptiness inside. He moved to his side with his back towards Hannibal, who stretched himself, scratched at the hair on his belly and dug his shoulders deeper into the mattress to find comfort.

Hannibal sighed contently. “It doesn't create, Will. It only bares what is already inside,” he said, repeating words of their previous conversation, as if it hadn't been interrupted by a wild display of animalistic sex. Will didn't move, staring at the glass wall and the smudge of hand and face prints they had left behind. Hannibal's body rolled over, coming to spoon behind him as he ran a caressing hand down Will's arm. “The desire to be here with me was yours already, Will,” he spoke close to Will's ear, and the Omega grimaced at the goosebumps that rose on his skin, betraying how much the Alpha's nearness affected him. “We both know we have recognized each other as equals a long time before this.” Lips pressed against his bitten shoulder and Will closed his eyes, in search of a deep breath. “Is this your idea of afterglow conversation?” he said through stiff lips, tensing his back against the soft hair of Hannibal's chest. “Tell me I'm wrong,” the Alpha pressed, pushing his nose between Will's shoulder blades and settling against him.

Will felt a nose drawing patterns on his skin and sighed angrily at the happy hum that rose from within his body. “None of this makes any sense,” he huffed, “this Alpha and Omega thing is just so... idiotic.” His words were murmured against the mattress, and Hannibal chuckled behind him, running fingers over Will's naked ribs before pressing another kiss to his neck. “Let us not...,” he started, but was silenced when Will turned his head up and pushed his shoulder back to face Hannibal with an angry scowl. “I'm in heat. My body wants me to breed when I cannot even bare children. How is that not pointless, primal idiocy?” he bit at the Alpha, who blinked with eyes soft with satisfaction, briefly considered him and pushed his nose to Will's ear with a smile. Animal affection. Endless animal affection.

“Oh no, Will, that is not all a heat is for,” Hannibal said, purring into his hair. “It is a way to help create and maintain a bond between Alpha and Omega mates. Physically as well as mentally.” Will leaned in when Hannibal pressed their cheeks together, the comfort it brought stronger than himself. “Mentally?” he scoffed, tilting his head back to give Hannibal room to nuzzle at his glands. “Of course,” Hannibal said against his throat. “Sex is just one of the components. The time that comes after is equally substantial.” There was a hint of tongue against Will's skin, a threat of teeth, and it made his subconsciousness fully aware of what would happen, would Hannibal bite down.

“Like when you... when we... when you're stuck inside me?” Will stammered, feeling his cheeks flush as Hannibal pulled back to look at him. “Knotted, yes,” he said, as his hand reached for Will's and lazily played with his fingers. “Jesus,” Will cursed, feeling his blush deepening as it spread to his ears and down his neck. He lay his head back flat on the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “We didn't... we didn't do that this time,” he said, carefully toneless as he kept his eyes off Hannibal, who kept stroking his fingers undisturbed. “I figured it would be more comfortable for you,” Hannibal responded casually, making no effort to meet Will's shy flicker of eyes. Instead, he kept looking at Will's fingers, bending them at the knuckles and stroking his nails.

They stayed like that for minutes, silently in a room that was still clouded by their blended scents as Will felt his slick trickling out of him, mixed together with Hannibal's seed. It felt dirty, lying in their sticky fluids, but he didn't move. He had almost closed his eyes before Hannibal spoke again, gently. “I will give you all the time you need to accept the situation, Will. I will answer all your questions and I will not stop you when you walk away. But you need to understand that there is no running from who we are. You will always come back to me. We belong together.”

Will's eyes popped open, shooting sideways where Hannibal was staring at him with intense, amber eyes. Will rolled to his side, facing Hannibal, and inhaled, smelling that scent that made his heart sing. “I've never trusted you,” he said, voice husk. Their eyes met in a long stare of ocean and earth. “And you never could,” Hannibal said. “Until now.”

Chapter Text

They were dozing together, front to back, and when Will awoke he realized he had lost all sense of time. How many days, how many nights had passed, was completely lost in the rhythm of sex, sleep, sex and sleep. When his eyes fluttered open, body stirring under the sheets, he felt himself welcomed to the world by soft lips pressing against the bare skin of his neck. The kisses were gentle, barely there, so different from the brutality they contained when they were driven by the heat and the rut and both of them couldn't think about anything else than a beastly need to be close enough to taste blood.

This, this was different. This was not mere lust or a leftover exchange in the golden clouds of the afterglow. Those lips on his neck showed no hurry, no intention to wander or to spur him on, but spoke of nothing but a simple, honest wish for touch, taste, nearness. Hannibal wasn't shy about his affections, and he never had been. Will remembered those lingering touches of fingers on his shoulder, a caress on the back of his hand and a cupping palm on his cheek, those first months in his office. His Alpha had never made a murder pit out of his heart, even when he did out of everything else.

For Will, feeling those lips on his neck without the fog in his mind was other territory. This was real. This was Will Graham, even if the animal within him still keened at the need to throw back his head and push into the caressing lips against his skin. What Hannibal showed him was whole-minded tenderness, sentiment, and Will took a deep breath to steady himself inside the warm arms that wrapped around him. He inhaled the blanketing scent of Alpha and Omega, Hannibal and Will, which was deeply embedded on their skin and in their sheets. He felt lips against his throat like the soothing water of the stream, and heard the song beneath his skin, the thousand fragile voices in the chapel made of bones. Everything about it, even without the clawing need in his loins, felt like it belonged.

His nose followed after the fiery musk and before he had turned his head up completely, his lips were sought out and captured by a soft mouth, surrounded by a chafing stubble. The kiss was nothing but lips as their mouths brushed and slid and found their way to fit seamlessly against each other. They burned each other's skin with sharp day-old beards and they clutched unwashed hairs between their fingers as they brushed and slid and pulled until no air existed between them. The moment was something that flooded Will, engulfed him completely, and he would not consider his behavior again, until much, much later, simmering shamefully in the darkness of his mind. But at this moment, something considerably more difficult to evade and avoid was rattling at the gate of their togetherness, and demanded their attention.

“Will?” Alana's voice sounded from the other side of the glass wall. “Hannibal? Can I have a word?” She sounded hesitant underneath the stern confidence she always tried to exude. Will's head shot up, pulling back from Hannibal with widened eyes and bright burning cheeks as he whipped his head to the side and looked right into a lovely shade of blue eyes from the other side of the wall, mere feet away. “I could come back,” she said a little hasty, pulling at the sleeves of her maroon suit. “Are you... connected, right now?” There was a tinge of pink to her cheeks but her tight lips didn't show anything that could be considered less than cold, hard professionalism. It was admirable, at the least.

Will twisted away from Hannibal and reached for the sheets, suddenly very much aware of his nudity, the raw marks on his neck and shoulders, and the blood-filled lips that must be tinged red from their pressing kisses. He pulled the white, dirty sheet around his shoulders and folded the material around his body, hiding everything but face and feet as he sat up, threw Hannibal, naked and undisturbed, a quick and flustered stare and scampered to his feet. “No. no,” he stuttered, out of breath, stepping towards her behind the glass, only briefly meeting her eyes.
“Alana, what a lovely surprise,” Will heard Hannibal greeting her jovially behind him, and he watched him rise from the mattress with so much grace it made Will's jaw tighten before he turned his burning eyes away. Hannibal did not seem to care much for modesty, and forwent the blanket he could have used for cover. He was naked, blemished with marks and bites and scratches on his skin, and he wore them like the most precious jewelery. It was a game, Will thought. A power play, of prisoner and guard, an Alpha who finally found his intended: 'I am vulnerable, yet you cannot harm me. You cannot touch me. You cannot have me. I no longer belong to you.'

Alana's eyes burned a hole through Hannibal's skull, carefully making sure her eyes would not wander anywhere else. Her lips still tight, her fingers twitching. She was uncomfortable, bordering on pissed. “We will get dressed, it will only take a minute,” Will said, eyeing Hannibal disapprovingly, if a little heated, and twirled his finger bidding Alana to turn, which she did. There was probably nothing here she hadn't already seen on her security cameras, but Will still had a scrap of pride in him and he was clinging on to it hard. If only he could stop the bubbling burn behind his balls that was already shimmering inside him.

He grabbed his prison suit and tossed the other to Hannibal when he didn't make a move to get himself decent. He caught it in one hand, ignoring Will's pointed stare and hoisted himself in the pale gray overalls without any underwear. Will quickly looked at the accommodating socks, shirt and underwear on the floor, but forfeited them with a roll of his eyes. Hannibal had been right when he said there was no point to getting fully dressed. The suit was too big, Hannibal's size, and half of his hands and feet disappeared under the fabric. It didn't help the situation, really, looking like a boy dressed in Daddy's suit.

When they were all facing each other from other sides of the glass, Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back, taking his signature stance, and smiled dangerously at Alana. Her pupils dilated, but nothing else about her so much as moved. “We have about 15 minutes to spare,” Hannibal informed her and Will's brow shot up despite himself. “What?” he hissed between his teeth. “How do you know that?” He did not desire being left out on the biological part of a situation he was at least 50% part of. Hannibal's lips twitched, betraying the tiniest hint of a smirk before he made a show of closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose. Nostrils flared and Will felt heat rising from his neck to his ears. He clenched his insides and felt slick pooling around his hole. Hannibal could smell him, better than Will could smell himself. He was attuned to him, like Will was attuned to Hannibal's musk of winter fire.

“Right,” Alana said, her voice an octave higher, and Will snapped his eyes away from Hannibal's leering gaze and onto Alana's rapidly blinking one. “This situation requires some delicate decisions from us, Will,” she said, pointedly leaving Hannibal out of the conversation. Will inhaled, feeling himself step closer to the glass as he placed a hand against the cool, smooth material. His mind hadn't allowed him to think much further than where he was now. With Hannibal, in his cell, with nothing but each other. There was a world out there, outside these walls, and there was a life waiting for him. He wanted to think, think, think, but his mind steered away from any subject that was beyond these walls.

“Did you contact Molly?” he asked Alana, pulling at his bottom lip with his fingers. Behind him, Hannibal sniffed once and his scent of warmth became laced with something hot, like sitting too close to a fireplace. Alana nodded, carefully, an apologetic twitch of her lips. “She called us,” she said. “We told her you have Typhoid fever. Quarantined. No visitors allowed.” Will's eyes widened, trying to think about his poor, sweet, worried Molly. “What did she...?” he said, stuck on the sentence as he breathed the hot fire that Hannibal emanated into the room. “We told her not to come, but she wants daily updates. Dr. Hamming is making up something adequate, I believe,” Alana said, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture laced with nerves no doubt caused by the fire-breathing lion in the room. “I assumed you didn't want her to know, or see.....” - “No, no,” Will confirmed hastily with a wild shake of his head, gathering trembling breaths between his teeth. Their eyes were locked, and he looked at a kindness in her face he recognized from years before, when they were friends. It was warm, and open, and sad. It was pity, he realized now. It had always been pity.

“We will figure something out,” she said, promised, quiet and sweet, trustworthy with those big, blue eyes you could drown in. That very moment, he wanted to bare his teeth at her and growl, lash out against the glass wall, but all he did was was nod. He turned from the glass and noticed Hannibal's eyes on him, seeing into him as if his skull had been cracked open and laid bare. Their eyes met briefly, ocean and earth, and Will breathed, feeling his lungs open and his feet steady as the rage behind his chest settled in that instant. His shoulders sagged, his hands unclenched, he was calm. Alana turned to Hannibal, unaware of what transpired. “So,” she said, eyes fixed firmly on the Alpha as she crossed her arms over her chest. You... outdid yourself on the furniture,” she wrinkled her nose in disapproval as her eyes scanned over the room, currently in a state that would have made a hurricane proud. Hannibal tilted his head, and pursed his lips with unmistakable mirth.

“Both of us did,” he said, stretching his linked hands behind his back. “Did you see?” his eyes were challenging, probing for the tiniest hint of an expression that would betray if she had indeed, seen them, breaking that furniture. Alana's eyes widened before she quickly recovered and sighed in dismay as if the question was merely a distasteful one. Will eyed her carefully from beside Hannibal, his cheeks hot red and palms sweaty, but if there was anything to read on her, it was lost on him.

“Some of the staff is coming to replace what has been broken, and to clean up this mess,” Alana said, ignoring Hannibal and evasively watching the devastated room behind them. “How generous,” Hannibal said, hands still clasped, eyes still shining. “Safety regulations,” Alana replied coolly, her eyes never making it back to his. If she was trying to be professional about her distaste, or rather her apprehension, for the man that she had once called a lover, she failed.

Her eyes moved back to Will, who was starting to feel weak in his bones and hot in his loins. His distance from Hannibal was ever so slowly crossed with the occasional shuffle of his bare feet on the wooden floor, as his nose searched the air for more of his Alpha's scent. Alana watched him, undoubtedly noticing the helpless pull. “I wanted them to be here in twenty minutes and have Hannibal restrained, but...” she paused, shifting her gaze from one to the other, gears almost visibly spinning inside her head as she watched a heated, squirming Will gazing mindlessly at Hannibal, whose body was practically throbbing under his thin uniform. “We could go someplace else,” Hannibal suggested, pulling up a teasing eyebrow at her before following his nose into Will's curls. Alana huffed and crossed her arms, cheeks flushed hot pink. “You could go into your private shower. I'm sure you could both use one,” she said, and Will felt her looking at the dirty sheet on the floor. Crusted with slick and semen, sweat and blood.

“We can't be... connected, in my private shower,” Hannibal countered, leaving a dramatic pause in the sentence to repeat Alana's own awkward phrasing back to her. “It would hardly be comfortable for my Omega.” Hannibal ran a hot tongue over the skin behind his mate's ear as Alana's cheeks burst with color and Will had a sudden vision of Hannibal knotting him whole and deep against the cold tiles. One drop of slick fell on the back of his leg and Hannibal's nostrils widened. “It's fine, Alana, thank you,” Will hurried to say, pitying her for the position that was forced on her. In fact, the only one not to be pitied for forced positions, was Hannibal. Alana stepped closer to the glass, meeting Will's eyes and lowering her voice. “This only takes a few more days, Will. When your heat is over we will sort this whole thing out. Maybe there's a cure,” she said, soft, hopeful, kind.

“The cure is death,” Hannibal deadpanned dryly beside him and Alana's head shot up, turning to him with a vicious glare. “I've done my research,” she said, pedantically. “There are pills that...” - “That control your hormones? Tamper your heats?” Hannibal interrupted her, smiling, mocking, but with a fiery, dangerous glint beneath the amber of his eyes. Will caught it, and felt his insides sizzle and crack with newfound heat. “Not when you have found your one, perfect mate,” the Alpha said, eyes shining like liquid fire, and Will felt his knees trembling under his weight and his already hardening cock twitching against his prison suit. Alana huffed through her nose, her bravery, even behind glass, astonishing. “You are not bonded,” she pointed out, fingers clenched and brow drawn tight when Hannibal pursed his lips in self-satisfaction as he stared those fire-breathing eyes straight into her skull. “We are a Per mutua nexis couple, Alana,” he said and cocked his head towards the undamaged rows of books on the wall. “I too, have done my research.”

Will's Omega ears picked up the grinding of Alana's teeth as she stared silently, cold and hard, at the haughty Alfa. “A permanent separation between us, heat or no, will be impossible,” Hannibal carried on when Alana stayed silent. “Will, will have to stay with me.” The Omega's eyes peeked up through the thickening mist of his rising heat. “What?” he said, dazed, but Hannibal only extended his hand to stroke his curls, and Will instantly calmed under the touch, nuzzling against the Alpha's wrist. “Or you will have to hand me to him,” Hannibal continued, tilting his head challengingly at Alana, whose eyes widened visibly at the mere idea of what Hannibal was suggesting. “It is far from proven that you two are a Per mutua nexis couple, Hannibal. Don't get ahead of yourself,” she hissed with sharp venom on her tongue before she turned back to Will, taking a deep, calming breath.

“We will talk about this when you are no longer in heat, Will,” she said, still flustered from the argument, until she looked into those lost Omega eyes and softened her blue eyes. “Don't worry, Will. We will find a way to help you.” Will blinked, hardly seeing Alana through the blazing beauty that was his available Alpha mate beside him.“Yes. All right,” he said absentmindedly as he stepped so close his chest was pressed against Hannibal's arm. That arm found a way around his waist and Will ran his nose over Hannibal's neck before latching his mouth to the tender skin, tasting his mate like it was a vitality. Alana took a step back as blood rose to her cheeks, but the two stepped forward in tandem, Will folding himself around Hannibal's every move.

“Alana,” Hannibal said, no color to his voice as he stroked Will's neck like one would a beloved pet. “I am in a most agreeable mood, in such delightful company.” His eyes rested on Will, who was nosing along his jawline with content little sighs, and his eyes shone with proud, pleased, possessiveness. “It is so agreeable, in fact, that the promise I have reserved for you could slip from my mind altogether.” Will could barely see anything through his smothering need, but he did hear Alana's hidden gasp, stuck in her throat. Both she and Hannibal were close to the glass, eyes locked almost painfully. “But if you force a separation between me and my Omega, and he suffers because of it, I'll upgrade that promise to new, glorious heights and I will slaughter ever single person that ever touched your life. Like Verger pigs.”

He spoke the words with bone-chilling honesty as Will licked his ear like a purring kitten and pushed one leg around Hannibal's hip to grind against him through his onesie. “Excessive,” Will commented offhandedly, as he started to reach for the zipper of Hannibal's jumpsuit. Graying chest hair came in sight, and he buried his nose against the newly revealed skin, rubbing the scent against his glands. He heard Hannibal's words as if in a dream, but what he said next penetrated deeper in his mind, and remained. “This is my mate, Alana. If you think you know devotion, think again. I won't just die for him. I'll mutilate, violate and burn everything and everyone that doesn't move to accommodate him.”
Will felt a hot burn in his chest and pushed his hands inside the prison suit, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's naked waist. “Fuck me,” he said, finally pulling Hannibal in for a real kiss and sliding his tongue between the Alpha's lips to stroke against Hannibal's. He was so wet and so hard already, staining and straining his new jumpsuit as his legs moved to climb onto the Alpha's hips. Hannibal held him steady with firm hands on his lower back, but he too, was already too far gone to heed the woman in front of them. It was then that the loud sound of a buzzer rung through the cell, and Alana's head shot up and out of what seemed like a high, faraway place in thunderous clouds.

The staff members were there to replace the furniture, and things were getting out of hand, very quickly. “How about that shower?” she said, flushing red high on her cheeks. Hannibal shot an eye her way before he tightened his grip on Will's hips to lift him, and the Omega wrapped his legs around the Alpha's waist. “I'll take you,” Hannibal rumbled low against his mate's ear as he carried him off to the back of the room, while Will was tugging at his earlobe with his teeth and grinding his hips against Hannibal's belly.

“Yes, yes, take me,” he moaned, beyond all shame as Hannibal walked backwards into the oak door that was positioned in the wall behind the bed, to push it open. That door was one that Will had seen before but never considered, and now he could see for himself that it revealed a bathroom with creme tiles, a sink and a rather spacious, walk-in shower made entirely from glass walls. It wasn't a bathroom to Hannibal's standard, but for a prison shower, it was absolutely outrageous. “This... How?” Will panted through the heat, managing those two surprised words with widened eyes at Hannibal, who still carried him around his waist.

“With good behavior come all kinds of privileges, Will,” the Alpha bared his teeth and Will felt those words all over his skin like a thousand hot needles sunk into him at once, pain until unbearable pleasure. If Will had not been delirious like a dog in heat, he would have remembered just how Hannibal had earned those privileges from his ward. The Verger child, securing a great inheritance that reeked of foul blood and betrayal, and it was Hannibal that had supplied that one necessity to make it so. And that man was watching him with hooded eyes of gold and blood, hot and heavy and traveling down his face until he lurched forward to capture Will's lips between blunt teeth.

Will moaned quite obscenely around a hot, soft tongue that licked into his mouth as Hannibal pressed their bodies into the nearest, tiled wall. He threw his head back against the hard stone when Hannibal scraped his teeth lower over his neck a released a needy growl that peaked the ears of Will's Omega, pressing fangs right over the sensitive glands of his throat. Will felt his body quivering with want and need and terrible weakness, safely held by Hannibal's strong arms and pressed against his strong, strong body as the Omega inside him cried and howled and begged to be bitten. Claimed. Bonded. But Will, he was there too, and his voice was regaining strength with every passing minute since the beginning of his heat, pushing through from the back of his head. No. No. Not that.

And Hannibal heard him too, even when his hands shook from the effort to move from the Omega's exposed, undamaged skin. The Alpha could easily overpower and claim him without as much as a real struggle and the thought scared Will as much as it added to his arousal, coiling like a ball of furious fire behind his pelvis. Hannibal was strong like a savage predator that could only safely be beheld behind a wall of glass, and that Alpha licked longingly around the shell of his ear. “Please, Hannibal, please,” Will pleaded, his throat tight and his eyes wet as Hannibal's hand started ripping his clothes, forced to let Will's feet back to the floor to undo the fabric over his hips. “I told you, clothes are no good at all during heats,” he said through the low growl that steadily rose from his chest as he squatted down to press kisses onto Will's naked belly. “No good,” Will agreed, pulling at Hannibal's own prison attire. In the background, male voices could be heard through the walls. They were cleaning up their mess, while they were here making more. “Fuck,” Will sighed when Hannibal spun him to pull the suit off his feet before sitting up on his knees and pushing his tongue in between Will's cheeks, finding his tight, wet heat. “Oh Fuck,” Will pushed back against that probing tongue with true abandon, arching his spine dangerously deep into the fiery licks against his opening while his face rested against cold tiles. “Oh God, please, please. Alpha,” he begged, knowing already what it did to his mate when he begged him so prettily and he felt the uncontrolled heat coming off of Hannibal behind him as he groaned deep against Will's hole.

Will felt the vibration of his Alpha's deep voice buzzing against him as the hot tongue lapped at the slick around his opening. It was maddening, torturously hot and wet, and Will's knees quivered and buckled as he pushed himself firmer against Hannibal's face. The wet, devouring noises and rough moans that rose between them were obscene, and Will cursed loudly against the tiles when Hannibal pushed one, long finger into his ass, and rubbed teasingly against his needy prostate. “Fuck, shit, THERE,” the Omega cried out his approval ecstatically loud, and the voices on the other side of the thin wall silenced at once. Those men cleaning up their mating mess, those men could hear them through the wall. They could hear the grunts and the moans and the cries and wet licks of an Alpha tongue against dripping slick, but Will didn't notice as he pushed back wholeheartedly against Hannibal's face and hand, openly welcoming the fingers on his prostate with a high-pitched whine.

Slick flowed freely and the scent of sex, musk and autumn rose in the air around them as the sticky fluid stained Hannibal's mouth, chin and fingers as he hummed blissfully against Will's entrance with closed eyes and his tongue pushing in beside his stroking finger. No one had ever done this to Will before, and the idea had always struck him as odd, but that was no longer a word he would use as he clawed at the creme tiles like a lost, frightened animal and felt a heavy tension building inside his balls. Coming like this, it wouldn't be enough. He knew he needed to be bred, filled, belly bloated with his Alpha's cum, but for now there was room inside his head only for this, this, this, and it felt so, so good. Oh yes. “Oh fuck yes.” Hannibal worked in another finger, as he licked around Will's tight rim. He felt it in his cock, his ass and his abdomen as those pinpricks of pleasure and heat wound tight around his upper thighs like ropes of silk, tightening bliss.

A hand slid between his legs and long fingers brushed his balls before wrapping around his cock and pumping his erection with a loose grip that left Will staggering on his legs. He pressed his face and one shoulder to the cold tiles, missing any kind of real leverage, except Hannibal's face between his cheeks. “Ohhhhh,” Will whined, more and more like the Omega that was already howling inside his head. Will could smell Hannibal's arousal thick in the air as it danced with his own, and shuddered hard around the fingers and tongue inside his tight body. Hannibal growled low in his throat, stroking the sound inside Will, who jerked back against the grip on his cock. The tightening pleasure was everywhere, clawing and gripping and building to an unbearable pressure in his belly. “Hannibal, please, please make me come,” he sobbed shamelessly, wild and desperate as he rocked his hips in search for more and hard. Outside the wall, there was the dragging of furniture and the tinkering of construction, but not a voice could be heard.

Hannibal snarled at his words and squeezed Will's cock tight in his palm as his fingers plunged deeper into Omega's opening. Will knew Hannibal could have dragged this out for days, his pure delight and enjoyment in this position evident on his face and against the strained fabric of his jumpsuit, but Will couldn't wait. The steady rhythm of teasing fingers and licks was only fogging his mind harder and hotter gradually turning him into a desperate, clawing animal, in search for relief. Hannibal continued to rub his prostate in teasing circles until Will swayed on his legs, balancing on a very high, steep edge between heaven and pain. He wanted it so, so bad. And then, the fingers were gone, the tongue slipped out, the hand released him. Hannibal rose and stepped back from Will, who huddled against the wall like a weak, desperate pile of Omega man and howled pitifully as his bare hips rocked against nothing.

“No, no, no, no, noooo,” Will wailed dramatically, open lips pressed against the cold tiles and eyes tightly pressed shut. Hannibal smiled as he stepped out of his own clothes, whipped his mouth with the sleeve and grabbed a large towel as he walked into the shower. “Come with me,” he said, turning on the water and checking the temperature with his hand. Will followed instantly, wobbling on unsteady legs as he reached for his naked Alpha, nose against throat. “My Omega,” Hannibal sighed contently into his hair and hummed his satisfaction when Will reached eagerly between their bodies for the Alpha's cock, hard and ready against his belly. He stroked over the hard flesh as he kissed alongside Hannibal's jaw, who in turn soothed him with stroking hands on his arms and back, rumbling approval in Will's ear that made the Omega glow warmly under his skin. Steam was rising all around them as Hannibal checked the temperature of the running water before grabbing his mate and pushing him under the stream with his back against the glass wall. The water was hot, the glass was cold and Will was writhing against his mate. “Yes,” Will sighed, reaching out with grabbing hands to pull Hannibal towards him. “Fuck me.”

Will felt big hands lifting his hips again and wrapped his legs back around Hannibal's hips in the same instant. His head was already back against the wall as his hips pressed down in search for Hannibal. No more stalling, there was only so much his starving animal brain could take. When Hannibal pressed the head of his cock against him without pressing in, Will growled from between his lips as he shot a furious look to the Alpha, who smiled challengingly at his mate. Will snapped at Hannibal's throat with teeth and squeezed his hips punishingly tight around the Alpha's waist. “Fuck me,” he yelled demandingly. “Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!” On the other side of the wall, something heavy dropped and two people cursed, but the noise was drowned out by Will's cry when Hannibal grabbed his hips and slammed home in one brutal stroke.

Will's head slammed against the glass as his back arched as far as his spine would allow itself to bend and Hannibal fucked unforgivingly into his tight, wet opening. The pace was merciless as he slammed himself all the way into his Omega before drawing back with a wet drag against Will's insides, and forcing Will's hips back down again. His hands were on the back of Will's thighs, carrying his weight as he pressed him into the steamed up glass, leaving prints everywhere Will's naked body touched. “Yes, yes, yes,” Will moaned wildly as he met his mate with every thrust, feeling his neglected release building back up at whirlwind speed.

“They're listening,” Hannibal growled into his ear as he pushed his nose into Will's wet curls. They were both soaking wet, with hot water pounding on their heated skin as they moved hard and frantically against each other. Will knew, somewhere in his sex-fried brain, that he was referring to the working staff in the cell outside the bathroom. The sounds of furniture being rearranged and rebuilt had slowed to almost nothing, but there were indeed still half a dozen men present in that room. “Yes,” he hissed against his Alpha as he pushed his hips forward to claim every thrust inside. His prostate was abused, his hole was swollen red and his cock was crying from neglect. He wanted more, more, more.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hannibal asked huskily, teasing as he dragged his tongue across Will's ear shell “Don't you fucking dare,” Will moaned, wrapping two strong arms around Hannibal's shoulders as he held on tighter and bounced harder against the glass, on the Alpha's pulsing cock. “They can hear what I'm doing to you,” Hannibal hissed, sucking a bruise under his earlobe. The heated words made Will's balls draw tight and his eyes roll back as Hannibal's cock pressed heavy on his prostate and dragged deliciously in and out of his body. “Shit,” Will cursed, moaning when Hannibal held him up with one hand only to graze Will's pink, peaked nipples with this thumb.

“They can hear how much you love being fucked by me,” Hannibal grunted, pumping into him harder as he reached down Will's belly. “Fuck, yes, yes,” Will cried harder, uncaring who heard as he sobbed his pleasure against his Alpha's neck. “They can hear how much you love to be fucked by your Alpha,” Hannibal growled, lost in Will's pleasure as one hand tightened on the Omega's hips and pounded into his willing body, hard and fast and with full abandon. “They can hear you belong to me,” Hannibal hissed through gritted teeth and Will howled when Hannibal's free hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed him tight. “Fuck. Alpha.”

Hannibal's tongue flicked behind his earlobe. “They will jerk off to the noises you are making when they get home,” he croaked against Will as the hot water streamed across his face, strained with effort and the painful pleasure that was theirs. “Hannibal,” Will whined, clawing at his Alpha's back as Hannibal's hand pumped his cock as he pushed the Omega hard and whole over his large, throbbing cock. “And I'm going to kill every single one of them for it,” Hannibal snarled, baring teeth as he bit into Will's shoulder and shuddered violently inside as his hand worked fast over Will's angry red cock. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” Will screamed, hearing himself echoing back against the walls as his body clamped down hard and his thighs shuddered with unforgivable pleasure. He felt himself shooting sticky, hot cum between their bodies as the Omega in him howled its victory when he felt Hannibal releasing himself deep inside his belly. It was an endless stream of hot wetness that filled him gloriously as he spasmed around Hannibal's swelling cock, knot pushed past the rim and growing inside as the Alpha's hips stuttered forward inside his body.

His powerful orgasm took the wear out of his bones and replaced it with weightless pleasure that made him feel like he was floating on a sizzling, electric cloud. Hannibal had stopped moving his hips as he buried his face against Will's bitten shoulder. He hadn't bitten him where it counted even when Will had felt the strongest possible desire in Hannibal to do it, and Will felt that knowledge taking place inside his mind. Even when both their animals had wanted that bite, Hannibal had controlled himself.

The knot was deeply embedded past his ring of muscles and he squeezed around it, making Hannibal groan and shudder against his shoulder. “We're stuck, like this,” Will said, not yet able to sound displeased at the odd position they were currently in. “Cozy, wouldn't you say?” Hannibal said against his skin, and Will could feel his bare teeth in a smile against his shoulder. Before he could consider their options, however, Hannibal had pulled a strong arm around him and pulled the awaiting towel off the rack to wrap it firmly around Will before he carried him, connected and bare, to the door.

Will felt Hannibal shuddering with every footstep but he didn't slow his pace as he opened the door and walked into his prison cell, that was once again pleasantly unoccupied. The smell of sweaty men was very much present, but everything broken had been restored. The bed was back in place, with a twin placed right by its side. The table, the chair, and another chair. It was replaced, repaired and there was now room for two. Will couldn't help but feel a pinch of gratitude towards Alana when he eyed the extra bed that Hannibal laid himself on, with the Omega curled around his torso and fresh sheets over their naked skin. Face to face, knees beside Hannibal's hips. There was a tired kiss on his lips that he returned. “Are you really going to kill them?” Will asked, yawning as he pushed his nose under Hannibal's chin. “If I ever get the opportunity,” Hannibal promised, all softness and pink skin.

“That sounds dangerous, coming from you,” Will said, closing his eyes as his limbs went slack on the clean, new mattress. Hannibal sighed in his hair. “I meant every word I said to Alana,” he spoke softly, wrapping his arms around Will's ribs to pull him closer in their embrace. “I know,” Will replied, slowly falling into slumber.

Chapter Text

It only took a short hour for the knot to loosen inside Will, allowing them to separate. Then, it took an afternoon for Will to actually roll off his Alpha's chest and onto the adjoined, empty bed beside them. Two beds, they had now. A comfortable surprise, Will thought as he stretched out on the fresh sheets, cool against his bare skin. But he also felt something else entirely; this arrangement seemed... permanent. It was a change that made it feel real, like buying a litter box when adopting a kitten. It was like an unspoken agreement that he was now part of some sort of living arrangement. It made his chest feel tight and his face feel hot as he watched the windowless walls around him from his place on the bed. Those walls seemed thick, too thick to breathe easily and he felt like they were closing in, trapping him and squeezing the air from his lungs.

But before the wave of panic could crash behind his ribs and swallow him, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back against the naked skin of a bare chest. “The two beds are required,” Hannibal's groggy voice croaked in his ear and Will's eyes shot back towards the nose that pressed against his cheek. “Two people, two beds. Due to health regulations.” Will breathed, steady and calm against his Alpha as he felt the tight fist of his fear vanishing in the cocoon of warmth that shimmered around them. “Was I thinking out loud?” he asked weakly against the mattress, remaining slightly shaken as Hannibal inhaled against the curls at his temple. “You always are,” he rumbled. “Now more than ever.”

Soup and bread were brought in by an unfamiliar staff member, a middle aged lady with frizzy hair, a shade too red for her ashy skin. She refused to make eye contact, even when she was politely thanked by the two men dressed only in sheets. They sat at the table, each in their own, new chair and Will ate after Hannibal insisted, even if his stomach twisted in hesitation at the sight and smell of food. “It is quite normal to lose one's appetite during a heat. Your body wants to keep itself light and clean to ensure a successful pregnancy,” Hannibal said airily, spooning his bland tomato soup into his mouth with eyes like bloody diamonds. “Thanks for that,” Will deadpanned as he narrowed his eyes at Hannibal from across the table, who smiled friendly around his spoon.

Will noticed his mind seemed cleared somehow, calmer, steadier, since their last time together in the shower. His dreams had been less frantic, more clouded around the blur of naked skin he saw behind his eyes. Instead, there was a newfound clarity, more room to drift to practicalities, and of course, uncertainties. Molly was there, in his mind, more prominent than before. “I would ask you what is on your mind...,” Hannibal broke through the glass film on the staring Omega's eyes. “But I wouldn't want to give you the feeling that we're back in therapy.” His tone was gentle, a touch of humor present in his warm voice, but his eyes so probed violently curious that Will quickly blinked the vision of his wife from his mind, as if Hannibal could look into his eyes and see her too. It always felt like he could.

“My heat is... diminishing,” Will said into the spoonful of soup he quickly lifted to his lips and Hannibal hummed from across the table. “It gradually reduces, naturally,” he said, waving a hand as if to usher away such obvious thoughts while his eyes crept over Will, who quickly hunched back over his meal and took a bite out of his chicken sandwich. His legs twitched under the table, bouncing on one toe in a nervous habit as Hannibal leaned forward across the tabletop.

“How does that make you feel?” Hannibal asked, coaxing a curling of the Omega's lips as he briefly met Hannibal's eyes over the table. “Now I am back in therapy,” he said, shaking his head once before peeling the crusts off his bread with restless fingers. Hannibal's eyes were on him still, waiting. Will could see them on the inside of his skull before his eyes could even meet them across the room. “It makes me feel like I am having sex with an inmate while my family is home waiting for me.” Their eyes locked, but Hannibal seemed unfazed. He took a patient spoonful into his mouth and swallowed before he smiled. Kindly, but without his eyes. “Those are facts, not feelings,” he said analytically, “But I would guess the word you are looking for is guilt.”

Will felt a trickle of annoyance seeping down his spine and tightened his lips at the smug Alpha across the table. “The word I'm looking for is shock. Outrage. Exploited, by my own nature,” he bit across the table, slurping his soup noisily from his spoon to emphasize his anger. Hannibal remained perfectly upright in his seat as he placed his plastic spoon before him on the table and folded his hands in his lap. “Maybe the word is satisfied,” he said in a voice Will recognized as 'Dr. Lecter' who raised a single, challenging eyebrow on his stoic face. Will coughed against the soup as it almost went down the wrong pipe and pressed a hand to his mouth, watching Hannibal with outrage as he felt heat rising from his neck to his forehead.

Hannibal interrupted him before he could find his breath to foul-mouth him. “Or maybe the word is simply complete,” his shoulders dropped an inch, and golden predator eyes grew a soft amber. “I can only feel my end of the string that pulls between us, Will, but it certainly feels like that to me.” Hannibal's eyes were large and wide in the soft, overhead light, or maybe it was just an illusion that filled him like the soft, golden tingle that spread from his spine and his body like an embrace. Will bit his lip hard in anger that he longed to keep as Hannibal's voice stroked the air like a Summer breeze. “Ever since you presented, the endless mazes in my mind have found a destination. Everything that was dead and dry is nurtured and fertilized back to life. Everything that was raw and bare, is now gloriously restored.”

Will pressed nails into his palms to keep his hands from trembling as Hannibal's face opened like a fresh flower touched by the spring sun. His eyes were gold, deep, warm, wet, human. His lips were parted, pink, curving up into a dazing, dreamlike smile that was directed at the Omega across from him. “When we met, your presence was a bandage to my wounds, but now it is the new, rosy flesh on my bare bones,” Hannibal's voice was smooth like silk, husk like smoke and steady as he rolled his tongue around every vowel. Will's throat felt tight and there was a pressure behind his eyes that he couldn't blink away as their gaze blended over into one of earth and ocean. They both swallowed, mouths dry.

When Hannibal smiled again, softness turned sharp. “We differ, more than I once cared to admit, but I understand your mind like only I ever could.” Hannibal leaned closer in his seat, his eyes an oasis of amber and deceitful like the ocean. There was a calm shimmer to the surface, but Will knew what lived beneath as he held on to the table before him and wet his lips with a sliver of pink tongue. Hannibal's eyes caught the movement and his lips twitched. “There will be guilt on your conscience for the rubble you will leave behind when you choose me. Maybe even for knowing deep down that this is what you've always wanted, from the moment our eyes met.”

Hannibal's eyes were grabbing him tight and deep and Will took a shaky breath, blinked and finally managed to pull away from the gripping, pulsing gaze that pumped black, forbidden pleasure into his veins. He ground his teeth close together and smiled without any humor. “Sex with you?” he asked, trying for mockery but achieving little more than sounding fearful. Hannibal's fingers pressed into the table top with an urgency. “A life with me. Alpha and Omega. Bonded,” he said, pressing his teeth close enough to hiss. The soft paradise that had shimmered in his eyes was replaced by a destructive storm of Hell fire.

The Omega pushed out a noise that resembled a whimper and threw his head back in desperation, a sparkle of tears in the corner of his eyes. “I don't even know what that entails,” he breathed, rubbing hands over his temples as he closed his eyes. There was nothing he could grip, nothing to control. Fear flared hot inside his body as he whimpered again, loud and clear. “I presented Omega, but I know nothing about what it means to be one,” he said, a pitiful whine present in his voice as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He didn't want to think about Hannibal's words, or how he felt about them. He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to think anymore either. Not about that click inside his mind, every time their eyes met, or that feeling of safe completion that threaded like a spiderweb inside the cavity of his chest, whenever their skins touched. It was strength, protection, it was happiness. And it was completely and utterly beyond his control. Beyond rationality and beyond his wishes.

“You've talked about us with Alana,” Will wheezed out, remembering some words spoken between glass, something about him staying here, or about Hannibal leaving prison. It was far and vague but it seemed important. His mind had latched on to the moment, even when he had already been so far gone. “What do you remember?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head, his folded hands on the table and wrung together. The Omega stared at the slide of the skin of Hannibal's hands. He remembered one thing about that conversation, very clearly, but felt reluctant to share. “Will?” Hannibal pressed, watching his mate's Adam's apple bob and his cheeks stain a deep pink.

“I... I remember how your lips moved when you talked. I remember that,” Will mumbled as he looked back to his own hands in his lap. There was no option to ignore the pressing Alpha when he wished to, he knew. Everything about him refused to refuse him. Hannibal was smiling when he spoke next, Will heard it in the way the words formed against his lips, and how his voice exuded his pleasure. “Do you find it difficult to lie to me?” the Alpha asked, and Will's lips pulled into a stretched smile beyond his own doing. “I think I always have,” he confessed, remembering the time he called him up to warn him about Jack as he met tiger eyes and felt his insides drawing tighter, hotter, wetter when they gazed up at each other. No, not now.

“There is a lot for you to learn,” Hannibal said, patiently, ignoring Will's confession. “I will answer whatever questions you have, when your heat has tempered enough for us to have that conversation.” His voice was kinder, milder this time and Will wrapped his arms around his chest, shaking his head in desperation. “I need to understand this,” he urged, leaning forward over the table. “I need to know what my life will be like when this is over,” he pushed out, voice breaking under the strain. “I need to know what choices will still be mine to make.” There was a choked attempt to breathe as he felt tears wetting his eyes. He brought up his hands to shield his face when tears started to spill onto his cheeks. “I need to know what to tell my wife.”

There was a scratch of metal against wood and Will knew Hannibal was walking towards him, even when he didn't make a single sound. Tears streamed down the Omega's face, still hidden behind his hands. His shoulders shook out of anger, grief, guilt when he thought of his wonderful family, about the burning in his loins and the maddening, endless slick that was already wetting his seat, and that moment he and Hannibal had shared that kiss out of his heat. “Come, Will,” Hannibal said, not as a command but a request. Gentle hands lifted him by his shoulder, moving him to stand as strong arms wrapped around his back. Will looked at him, wiping at his ocean eyes with the sleeves of his jumpsuit, and sagged into the touch because he was weak and tired and he wanted nothing more than that touch that made him safe and home and whole. The embrace he was pulled into was like a heater for a freezing man. It was life, soothing his troubled mind instantly and wrongfully so.

“You're angry with me,” Hannibal said into his neck as he rubbed his hands gently up and down Will's back. Will sighed against his ear, resting his head on a broad shoulder. “You're very presumptuous about the outcome of our Alpha and Omega... whatever this is,” he mumbled into the skin of a warm neck that smelled like fire and snow. “I am also right,” Hannibal said, tightening fingers in Will's curls just as the Omega pulled back, pressing his lips together as their faces drew in closer. “You need to respect that I find this whole situation impossible. I have a wife and a stepson and a life away from you.” Hannibal's lips parted close to his and Will blinked away fresh tears that threatened to overflow. “I chose that, years ago. That was my choice,” his voice sounded fragile. It had been the right thing to do, even if it hurt more than anything ever had. He had chosen a normal life. A life where he would bury his urges and be a respectable citizen. Plain. Polite. His nose hovered mere inches away from Hannibal's who ran his eyes over the Omega's lips. “The only thing I respect is your happiness, Will. That lies here, with me,” Hannibal said, leaning in closer to nip at his lips.

Will flinched at his words and pulled back from the touch as he pushed his hands against the broad chest against him. He lashed out with arms that were captured in Hannibal's strong grip by the wrist, keeping them close as Will struggled against the hold. “You.. Fuck you,” he hissed between his teeth and Hannibal blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you are angry,” he said, both surprised and amused as they stood chest to chest, Will huffing fire against the taller Alpha. And even now Will knew, not without contempt, that even if Hannibal would let him, he would not step away.

“Yes, I am,” he spat as Hannibal leaned in close to nudge Will's nose with his own. They stared at each other and Will eyed the row of sharp, hungry teeth in Hannibal's mouth, feeling the need inside him rising despite himself. The hands released his arms and slid lower to cup his ass through his prison overalls. “Let's see how angry you are,” Hannibal said, but before he could finish the daring smile he wished to plaster in his face, Will rose to the challenge and closed the distance between them with a bruising, punishing kiss.

**

“Good evening Frederick, please come in,” Alana offered politely, opening the door to her office at the knock at exactly two minutes to two. The sharply dressed man, slacks, shirt, tie and shiny black dress shoes, nodded in greeting and walked past her with his wool coat slung over his arm. From up close, Alana could clearly see the scars of the bullet hole in his cheek, but from a short distance, the prosthetic on his face was an excellent one. “Thank you for seeing me on such shot notice, Dr. Bloom,” Dr. Chilton said formally, but the excitement in his voice was undisguised.

Alana knew that when she had gotten the call and the self-invite, that Chilton had gotten a whiff of Will Graham's presence alongside Frederick's favorite inmate, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Since he had lost his place behind the desk that was now Alana's, Chilton had become notorious for the many written works on the life and behavior of the infamous serial killer, cannibal and Alpha, who now had found his Omega in Will. Alana knew he smelled gold. “So...,” Frederick said, dumping himself on a chair and crossing his legs. “Can you believe it? Mr. Graham is Hannibal's Omega. Well, I am shocked,” Chilton gasped, clutching his chest and Alana pressed her lips into a line as she took her place behind her desk and folded her hands on the desktop. “We were all surprised,” she said, her smile faint and her eyes stern.

“I assume they are still in each other's company, right now?” Frederick probed without trying to hide his scavenger-esque curiosity and Alana clenched her teeth behind her lips. She had never liked Frederick but since she had taken over his position as head of the hospital, his nosy, interfering and downright rude characteristics were starting to wear on her even more. “Yes. We expect Will's heat to last at least two more days,” she said stoically, and Chilton pressed his hands together as he rocked himself on the edge of his seat. “My, oh my. Quite scandalous, really. Who would have thought that Hannibal would enjoy his time in prison this much,” he said, his smirk positively malicious and Alana pursed her lips tight, shooting him a blank stare that he knew to take as it was meant. “I apologize,” he quickly spoke with a wave of his fluttering hands, even though the smirk did not disappear. “I'm just so intrigued by this development.”

“It is a very rare occurrence,” Alana replied dryly, shuffling some papers on her desk and avoiding the absolute pleasure that danced on Frederick face. “And poor Will,” he said, a giddy chuckle under his breath. “Well, yes,” Alana said, trying to numb down the nervous twitching in her hands. Chilton clucked his tongue. “What is he to do when his heat is over? Will he stay here?” he asked, the constant shuffling of his shoes on the hardwood floor betraying his eagerness for information. “We haven't had that discussion yet,” Alana shook her head, waving him off. “Will has an appointment with the head of our medical department tomorrow.”

“Hammings, yes, yes,” Chilton said, rubbing his chin with two fingers to emphasize his thinking process. “Can he be separated from Hannibal for such a period of time?” The worried tone in his voice was a display of laughably poor acting. “We'll see,” Alana said with a painful hint of an attempted smile. She was raised to be polite, but some people made it nearly impossible. She straightened the collar of her blouse and sighed. “I will discuss the options with him once he is no longer in heat,” she said. Chilton smiled and opened his mouth to reply, before his face suddenly fell in uncertainty. A hint of white pulled up around his nose.

“There is no...” he started, before he cleared his throat and tried again. “There is no possibility of Hannibal's release, is there?” he said, his voice a little tighter, a little higher, than before. Alana, too, felt the blood draining from her face at the mere mention of such a scenario. “No. No, that is out of the question,” she said assuringly, if only for herself. She was still trying to figure out the legal aspect of this situation, but under no circumstances would she allow Hannibal back onto the streets. “What if Will takes this to court and...,” Chilton continued, but Alana didn't let him finish his thought, waving her hand. “It won't get that far. We will provide him with something suitable,” she said, confident and definitively, at which both sank back into their chairs. They agreed on one thing, at least: no matter what happened, Hannibal had to stay behind his wall of glass.

“Can I see them?” Chilton suddenly peaked up as he rubbed his palms together. Alana frowned.
“You want to talk to them?” she asked. “I'm afraid I can't...” But Chilton leaped off his chair, holding up his hands. “No, no, just a peak into their behavior on the monitor.” Alana looked at the boyish smirk and pulled her lips tight in distaste. “I don't think...,” she started before Chilton placed both his hands on her desk and leaned forward. His teeth shone from behind his lips as he leered at her. “There are a lot of people interested in this story, Alana. If I'm telling it, you know I will be very discreet about what's happening here, and very generous towards you and the facility.”

Alana breathed deep to calm the boiling insults she had ready behind her teeth, but she knew he was right. Whatever Chilton would write about this, would be read by many. As distasteful as he was, he had never written a word against the prison and herself in all his years of writing and reporting. He wasn't Freddy Lounds, who was undoubtedly already snapping pictures outside the building. He was, in his own, twisted way, an ally of the hospital. It was why she allowed him so many privileges, even when she despised the whole ordeal. “Follow me to the control room.”

The control room was a small, dark booth with rows and rows of monitors on the wall. All showed sharp, clear images of inmates locked in rows of cells. Some of them were pacing, some were sleeping, others just stared straight into the camera without blinking. Then there were the ones doing push ups, smearing their feces on the glass wall or simply masturbating. Alana didn't like to come here. “Hello Dennis,” she said to the blond, beefy security man, sitting in the only chair in the stuffy, dark room. “Dr. Bloom,” Dennis nodded, politely taking his black cap off his head. Alana found him a little simple, if not kind and a hard worker. To some too blond, overly tanned, fake-breasted girls, she imagined he would be quite the catch.

Chilton followed in behind her, feasting his eyes on the images that flashed on the walls. He was searching hungrily for the proper screen, but Alana knew exactly where to find it. Top left on the wall to her right. The monitor showed nothing but black and Alana felt a nervous twitch around her eye.
“Why is the monitor in Dr. Lecter's cell turned off?” she asked tight-lipped, and watched Dennis shuffling in his seat as he looked at her with an apologetic frown. “If I watch them, it is hard to concentrate on the others,” he said, twisting his body back and forth on the rotating chair, looking a little sheepish. Alana felt her cheeks burning hot as she turned back at Frederick, who looked like he was eyeing an enormous chocolate cake as he walked up to the mysterious black screen. “Well, I mean,” Dennis sought to correct himself when he was interrupted.

“Cameras are never allowed off, Dennis. You know this,” Chilton said with an utmost moralizing tone. “Especially Dr. Lecter's room. He is the most dangerous inmate you have here.” He ticked an impatient finger against the glass. “Turn it on.” Dennis looked back at Alana, who blinked rapidly and folded her arms over her chest. She hated that disgusting little man, but unfortunately he knew the prison rules almost better that she did, and he was, of course, absolutely right. “Turn it on,” she said, lips and eyes pulled tight. She was certain Chilton was looking for something scandalous he could use in an article or book, and scandalous, he certainly would get.

“Yes, Ma'am,” Dennis said, reaching for buttons on his dashboard and with a flicker of the screen, Hannibal's cell came into a perfect, clear view from the left corner of the ceiling. Alana had prepared herself for the view she was expecting to see, but what came into the frame was enough to make her mouth fall open as she drew a sharp breath and gulped a flustered “Oh.” Beside her, Dennis sighed, seemingly familiar with what appeared on screen while Chilton gasped openly in shock and delight as he clasped his hands together in front of his chin: “Oh my,” he gasped, in an act of surprise as he stepped closer to the moving image in front of him and roamed his eyes freely over the frame. Alana almost, almost considered telling Hannibal about it afterwards.

They were fucking, that much was obvious. Of course, with Will's heat, it was an essential and often repeated activity in Hannibal's cell. Alana had heard the whispers among the guards of how loud, hard and creative the two could get, and there certainly had been no complains about shifts on the monitor room since the past two days. Will was sprawled over the table on his belly, clawing at the edges as Hannibal had a firm hand in his curls and pulled back his head as he pumped his hips hard and fast to fuck into his reeling mate. The tugging fingers on Will's hair caused him to move his torso upwards, following after the strain and it wasn't before long that Hannibal grabbed the Omega by the throat and heeled him up against his chest as he kept up the punishing thrusts with his cock, disappearing completely into Will's trembling body. One of Will's knees came to rest upon the table as he spread his legs wider, encouraged by a stroking hand across his thighs and scraping teeth against his neck.

“Turn on the audio,” Chilton said shamelessly, and before Alana could protest, Dennis had turned open the volume with his thumb. A stream of heated growls and grunts filled the control room, together with a howling whine of a desperate Omega. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me,” Will's broken cries sounded over the speakers and Alana swallowed, averting her eyes. Chilton wrung his hands together and his good eye shone like it was Christmas morning. “Who knew Mr. Graham had such a foul mouth,” he said, barely repressing a grin. “Frederick,” Alana scolded, her lips agape in disgust as she stared at him, but Chilton was unfazed by her disapproval. “Well, it is quite something, isn't it? Look at them,” he said, practically pressing his nose to the screen.

“I'd rather not.” Alana shuddered as Hannibal pulled completely out of Will and flipped him over to his back. Will's howls without his mate were those of pain and despair and Alana felt the noise wringing her soul like the cry of a wounded animal. “I had no idea Dr. Lecter was so... well equipped,” Chilton chimed, turning an eye to Alana. “You did, of course.” Dennis coughed into his coffee and Alana felt certain she was going to tell Hannibal about this. All of it. Yes, Hannibal's Alpha form was truly impressive. She wasn't blind. It was even more impressive now than it had been when they...

Hannibal had pushed himself back inside and Will was positively mewling with every thrust as he clawed at Hannibal's chest and arms and face to get as much as he could. Hannibal had Will in a vice grip with one hand on his sternum and one back on his curls to pull back his head. Their kisses were furious snarls of their teeth, nipping blood from lips and tongues. It was a savage piece of art, but Alana would never, ever admit that to anyone other than herself. Chilton's ears peaked when Will's voice wailed over the speakers and shuddered. “He is just beside himself, look at his eyes,” he said, pointing at Will's tilted head with eyes that only showed white and twitched uncontrollably while they had rolled back in his head. It was quite eerie, how this showed his complete and entire surrender.

“They are animals, so raw and pure,” Chilton said, a hint of longing in his voice as he pressed his face so close to the monitor his nose almost touched the screen. “Touch me,”Will begged and Hannibal wrapped steady fingers around his leaking cock as he pounded into the pliant body beneath him and bit Will's shoulder until he bled into his mouth. “It's not always that rough,” Dennis said, staring at the monitor with something that resembled melancholy. “They cuddle too, when they're not...” A powerful roar shattered through the room and interrupted Dennis mid sentence when Will arched his back and tensed hard around his Alpha. White splatters of release landed around them as Hannibal fucked him hard through his orgasm. “Oh, not the table,”Alana heard herself say and she flushed red when Hannibal bent forward to lick at a splatter of white on Will's belly as the Omega continued to shake and shudder. They kissed, open mouths, tongues and Will's semen exchanged between them and the control room was stunned into silence, watching those lips smile into the kiss.

The Alpha collected his mate in his arms as he pulled him up in an embrace before sitting back in the chair positioned behind him. Will was on his lap, still connected, deep and whole. Their lips touched in short, sweet kisses that sounded wet and loud over the microphone as they pressed close and nuzzled each other like loving animals. Will's breathing was heard gradually slowing, calming as Hannibal stroked down his table-marked back. “Oh that was powerful,” Chilton said, a little breathless himself and eyes glued to the screen. The room was filled with those wet noises of lips on lips, quiet whispers and the slide of skin on skin. “See, I told you they cuddle,” Dennis said innocently. Alana wanted to look away and show her disapproval, but then Hannibal reached for Will's hips and pulled him down around his cock as he thrust up inside the Omega. “I'm going to make you come again,” he whispered, and that voice over the speakers, saying those words, made Alana's skin tighten in goosebumps. “Can he?” Chilton asked, looking at Dennis with curious, manic eyes. “Oh yes, he can,” Dennis affirmed, nodding enthusiastically.

The change of positions showed a very clear view of where Hannibal's cock slid into Will slick hole, and when the Omega whimpered into Hannibal's mouth and started to move his hips gracefully up and down the Alpha's hard cock, Alana admitted to not looking away while Chilton and Dennis were staring wide-eyed at the screen. They fucked, first with grace and then with strength, until they both growled and cried and whispered against each other, muffled by mouths that nipped and licked and bit against skin. Will came between them, penetrated hard and deep as well as stroked wholly by Hannibal's tightly folded hand, releasing himself for the second time on his own belly and his Alpha's fingers with a wild cry and trembling thighs. Hannibal's cock swelled at the base as he fucked his knot inside Will's eager body with a dangerous growl and embedded himself to the hilt into the sobbing Omega as he too trembled and groaned through his orgasm.

“Is he...?” Chilton started, staring as the wide part of Hannibal's knot disappeared into Will's tight opening. “They're usually stuck on each other for about an hour,” Dennis said, and Chilton gasped audibly as he watched where the two men were joined. Alana breathed, forcing her heartbeat to slow. She hadn't wanted to see that, but now that she had, it was going to be hard to erase it from her retina. “My lord, does he ever stop?” Chilton said when Hannibal shuddered inside Will again, who clenched hard around his mate. Over the speaker, Will was heard chuckling against Hannibal's neck. “It usually takes a while.” Dennis said. “Does anyone want coffee?”

Chapter Text

Alana did not meet their eyes once when she came into the cell to inform Will about an appointment she had arranged for him with the head of Medical. “He might be able to answer some of your questions,” she said, handing him a piece of paper with a time and name that failed to find footing in Will's head. Her eyes were on the wall, on her shoes, on her hands, heat evident on her face when Hannibal twitched his lips while standing behind Will's back. Will took the paper from the deposit box and thanked her. She left with a nod, the click of her heels and nothing else.

Will pressed his fingers into the paper and heard it crinkling under his touch. “I have an appointment with Dr. Hammings, tomorrow at 10:45,” he said, grateful to see the word 'tomorrow' actually printed out on the page. He had no clue whatsoever of how much time he had spent here, what date it was or which day of the week. The name Dr. Hammings, rang a bell far, far away through a thick fog inside his mind, where there was cheap fluorescent light, sterile beds and pain, pain, fiery, screaming pain.

He swallowed at the memory and lowered the paper sheet as Hannibal came to stand beside him. “How considerate of Alana. An undiscussed, unapproved doctor's appointment,” he said through pursed lips as he ran a possessive finger down Will's spine. The touch made the Omega shiver for every reason thinkable, as Will turned his head away and folded the paper between his fingers. “I approve,” he mumbled defiantly before stepping away from the dominant touch and tucking the appointment inside his sleeve. The jumpsuit had, unsurprisingly, nothing that resembled pockets.

“What will happen when I leave the room without you?” Will asked, both curious and concerned as he turned to Hannibal, a newly created distance between them. Hannibal looked back, an unbroken stare with eyes made of earth and ice, rather blue than red, before he focused on the closed off fireplace beside him. “Your heat is already quite contained,” he said, his voice undefinable. “I suspect we will both feel the sting of the other's absence, but you will not be taken far,” he said, absently caressing the empty mantelpiece with his fingers. “I'm certain they will bring you back to me if our separation becomes unbearable.” Will watched those fingers, unable to stop imagining them on his skin, and felt something restless clawing up from his knees to the hollow of his throat. He remained silent, staring at his Alpha's profile, stark against the white wall, until those amber eyes caught him with a cold, deep longing.

“What about you?” Will asked, running his gaze past the sharp bones of his face, the scar on his cheek, the silver streak of hair. Hannibal's lips smiled, but nothing else in his face followed. “I'm certain they will be less considerate of me,” he said and Will grimaced openly, unable to stop the downward pull of his face. He knew it was the truth. Hannibal would not be helped, or saved, or even considered, being who he was, where he was. Outside, he had never needed anyone, but in here...

If Will stopped, for a mere second, fighting everything that was reeling under his skin, wailing inside his mind, howling in his very soul, he would feel the outrage inside of him at the thought of his Alpha, alone and suffering inside this suffocating place, vulnerable and weakened without his mate. He would refuse to set foot outside this cell, refuse anything other than what could keep them together. Inside his bones, there was a primal tug, a call, a reckless desire to protect. But Will never did stop fighting those Omega cries. He never stopped fighting any of it. Fighting was all he ever knew. And it was all that was expected of him.

Hannibal stepped closer, lifting a single finger to stroke down Will's cheek as his cold smile warmed, and his hard eyes grew soft. “Don't worry,” he said, reading what Will laid bare in his eyes. “We will have close contact before you go.” He brushed a curl off his Omega's forehead and Will rose an eyebrow. “Close contact...,” he repeated, keeping straight eyes on the Alpha as he tilted his head in question. Hannibal didn't blink when he answered “I'll knot you”, making Will's eyes widen and his cheeks burn. “Jesus, Hannibal,” he mumbled, stepping away from the Alpha's touch and turning towards the table. Before he could move, however, Hannibal's finger brushed past his torso and pulled the folded invitation out from the inside of his sleeve.

Will watched him take it as he let himself fall into a chair, unwilling to have another argument. Hannibal unfolded the paper and scanned its contents as he took a seat across from Will. “Dear Dr. Hammings,” Hannibal inhaled sharply through his nose before bringing his eyes back to his Omega, who had placed both his arms on the table to rest his head upon them. “If he lays a finger on you...,” Hannibal's voice was laced with threat that he would certainly do good on, but Will ignored him, pondering as he scanned his eyes over windowless walls. “How long have I been here? I completely lost my sense of time,” he sighed, rubbing hands over his tired eyes. Hannibal brought his eyes back to the paper in his hands. “Three full days by tomorrow morning,” he answered, eyes lingering at the top of Will's wild curls, who had dropped his head to rest on his arms.

“It feels longer than that,” Will murmured into his arm. “And shorter, somehow.” Hannibal tilted his head and slid the refolded paper across the table, offering it back to Will who stretched out his fingers in a weak attempt to grab it. “It is very common to lose your senses in an isolated situation such as this,” he said, and Will sighed against the fabric of his sleeve. “You don't,” he said, hearing the confirmation in Hannibal's silence and he smiled into the crook of his own elbow, continuing: “to me, this is one outstretched moment in which everything just bleeds together.”

He could hear Hannibal tapping his fingers on the tabletop across from him. “Well, we have been rather occupied,” Hannibal said, a hint of a pull at his lips as Will flicked his eyes up, fixing Hannibal with an unimpressed glare of ocean green. Will tucked the paper back in his sleeve and placed his chin on his hands, looking up at the Alpha opposite him as he scratched at the rims of his own fingernails.

Just for a moment, those amber eyes seemed to be away, gone somewhere deep and lost, a moment of frozen time, before he looked right back into Will's open stare. “Ask the doctor whatever you wish to know, Will,” Hannibal said, his voice even but his eyes thick with the smoke of a starting fire. “But when you come back, please ask me the same questions and I promise I will tell you the truth.” There were hard lines around his mouth, and Will lifted his head off of his arms. “What do you think is going to happen?” he asked, his dark eyebrows knitting close together and his pink lips parted.

“They will try to separate us,” Hannibal spoke with a hushed voice, leaning closer over the table, a twitch of his nostrils visible. Will saw a hard strain behind his eyes, a lack of control, an untamable force that Hannibal always carried within, although that never showed on the outside. But to Will, as he looked back at his mate, it was clear as day. Hannibal was vulnerable, now that he had something that could be taken away, that he could not afford to lose. The thought of being Hannibal's Achilles' heel made Will's insides clench, but to look across the table and see the almighty, unslayable Hannibal looking so human in his weakness, did give the Omega a secret thrill of satisfaction, accompanied by a sweeping tenderness that spread inside him like a misty spray of water drops. “You're a convicted serial killer and a cannibal, and I'm Jack's special pet project,” Will said sourly, raising an eyebrow at Hannibal. “Can you blame them?”

It was only due to Will's improved hearing that he heard Hannibal's teeth grinding inside his mouth, face stoic, eyes like slits. “I can do so much more than that, Will,” he said, and the Omega felt the words traveling heavily down his spine and pooling around his thighs. “Even now.” Amber was burning in those tiger eyes he had come to know so well. Every promise of Hannibal Lecter was a certainty, a happening in waiting. Will pursed his lips and stood up from the table. “I have no doubt.”

**

“Hello mister Graham, please take a seat,” Dr. Hammings smiled kindly at the fragile Omega stepping into his office, and gestured to the empty seat from across his desk. Will looked small and pale in his oversized prison suit, escorted by big and broad security guards who were dressed in black and armed with guns. Will stepped into the room and looked back to see the guards had placed themselves on either side of the outside door, before they closed it behind him and Will jumped a little at the sudden movement. Dr. Hammings rose from his chair, again gesturing to the empty seat with a patient, gentle expression one would sooner find on a caretaker of wounded, frightened animals.

“No need to be worried, mister Graham, I'm here to help you. Please,” the doctor said, lightly tapping the seat, his smile baring cigarette-stained teeth. In his other hand, he held reading the glasses hanging from a chord around his neck. Will stepped forward, feeling disoriented inside the bright, white office, illuminated by sunlight that streamed in from surrounding windows and showed traffic driving by on the road below. It was unnerving to see how the world still existed, moved and turned outside that cell, away from his Alpha. Will felt like a kept animal, released in the wild, restless, aimless, feeling like every step forward was a wrong one. “Unless it is uncomfortable for you to sit?” Dr. Hammings suggested gently, but Will noticed his soft tone was suddenly laced with implication as his blue eyes widened meaningfully at the Omega. Will swallowed and felt the blood pumping straight to his ears. Certainly, he wasn't implying...

“No, no. Not at all,” Will stammered quickly and he hurried to the empty seat with two large steps and promptly dropped himself onto the wooden surface, and if that didn't prove how well he could still sit... “Thank you for coming,” the doctor said, reaching out an old hand to shake Will's. The touch was unwelcome and Will's fingers curled away when the cool, parchment like skin touched his. No, everything inside him rebelled, that touch wasn't right. Will drew his hand back the moment he was released and leaned back into his chair as far as he could without slouching. Dr. Hammings only smiled, placing his joined hands before him on the desktop. “Do you remember me?” he asked and Will blinked. He remembered the white coat, and he remembered the voice beside his bed. “Flashes,” he admitted and Dr. Hammings smiled. “That is perfectly normal,” he said, as if Will had expressed concern. “My name is Dr. Hammings and I am the head of the health department of this facility.”

“Prison,” Will corrected, glancing at the guards that could be spotted outside through a strip of glass beside the door. “It is officially a hospital facility,” Dr. Hammings countered, his lips twitching under his smile and Will bit the inside of his cheek. “For the criminally insane,” he added, pressing his arms close to his stomach and folding further into himself. There was a silence that lasted for mere seconds but felt so much longer, before Dr. Hammings cleared his throat. “Which brings us to the subject of Dr. Lecter,” he said, and Will felt a cruel stab in his chest, an open, bleeding hole that was the absence of his Alpha. Inside, everything felt stiff with cold, and hollow with emptiness, exposed and vulnerable without the blazing heat that surrounded his mate.

“Right,” Will said, a little absentminded as Dr. Hammings took hold of a notepad on his desk and placed the reading glasses on top of his crooked nose. “I understand you have many questions, but I will first...,” he attempted to open, holding a pen to the top of a list of words written down on the opened page, but Will placed both his hands firmly on the desk before him. “What is Per mutua nexis?” he interrupted. “Is that what we are, Hannibal and I?” his voice was urgent and his eyes demandingly targeting the poor doctor, who looked back up at Will with a stunned expression as the pen in his hand sagged downwards in his loosening grip.

“Mister Graham, I'm afraid I don't have the proper education...,” Dr. Hammings stammered, eyes back to his notepad, but Will scraped his seat close to the table and leaned forward. “Are we?” he urged, feeling his lips twitching with the fear he felt brooding, nesting and breeding within him. “Doctor, I have a wife,” he said, his voice unsteady at the thought of his Molly. His insides churned and ground at the image of her he carried in his head. An image that appeared so briefly, so fragile, he could barely make out her face before she was erased by tiger eyes and winter fire. “I need to know what I'm going to tell her.” Dr. Hammings swallowed visibly before folding his hands back on the desk, his notepad forgotten. Watery blue eyes looked into Will with a pity that made Will's lip want to curl up into a snarl, but he controlled the urge as the doctor took a deep breath.

“I believe you and Dr. Lecter are indeed a Per mutua nexis pair of Alpha and Omega,” he said, carefully, formally, and Will's breath stuttered. “What does that mean?” he demanded, digging nails into the desk. “I need to understand.” Dr. Hammings nodded, his fingers playing absently with the reading glasses that were back around his neck. “It's a rare occurrence,” he said. “Even rarer now that your species is so close to extinction. It means that you and your Alpha are a perfect match, biologically, physically and mentally. Two sides of the same coin, so to speak.”

The same coin. Will's lips parted as he stared at the old man across from him. If it wouldn't be so cruel, he would have laughed. You and I have begun to blur, he had said. We're conjoined. He had felt it, then. He remembered. But he never understood what it meant. “How does that differ from a normal Alpha and Omega?” he asked, breathing heavily through his nose. His loins started to grow warm inside his belly and his skin ached like a sunburn. It was already becoming painfully clear that he wouldn't last long outside the cell.

“Per mutua nexis means intertwined. You are, in many ways, the same,” Dr. Hammings said and Will couldn't help but huff loudly at the words. The doctor ignored his bitter chuckles and patiently continued, trying to hide his hesitation behind his professional demeanor. “You were both, in a sense, created for the other. There is no chance of a stronger, better suitor for either one of you, and no change of a more satisfying partnership. Together, you will be stronger, safer, healthier, happier, more satisfied...,” he said open-endedly, his pale cheeks turning pink at the last part of his sentence. Will pressed his lips together with so much vigor they turned white. A tight hand seemed to have wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing around his heart and lungs. “Really?” his breathing became shallow. “How can you be sure that that's what we are?”

The doctor smiled, and Will wanted to claw those old, thin lips off his face. “In my long career I have witnessed Alpha's and Omega's presenting and mating many times,” he said, a splatter of pride mixed in with the words. “And even if I combined all of those, it would still be more civilized than what I have witnessed between the two of you. Your primal instincts and urges are, simply put, off the charts.” The pink was back on his ears and Will bit his lower lip until it would certainly bruise. “It doesn't normally go like this?” he asked, wishing he would sound less exposed. Their violent, desperate mating, that was something he had excused as 'normal' behavior for an Omega in heat. “Not typically, no,” Dr. Hammings shattered that idea to pieces. “It is extremely fascinating to see how perfectly aligned you are. Your needs, your primal urges, your physical compatibility, your fury and... enthusiasm.” The pink ears turned red now as the doctor started cleaning his glasses with his white coat and Will folded his fingers into a fist to hide the tremor in his hands.

“I'm just going to ignore everything that implies that you've watched us fucking,” he said bluntly, watching the old man's eyed widening and his face turning a shade of maroon. “For research purposes, of course. I'm sure you understand,” he quickly stammered, holding up his hands as Will flicked his eyes to the ceiling. “Swell.”

“The point I am trying to make...,” Dr Hammings swallowed as he tried to overcome the stutter in his voice. “Is that I'm indeed convinced you and Dr. Lecter are a Per mutua nexis couple.” He folded his hands back on the table, trying to seem undisturbed and professional. “The way you presented and the way your Alpha responded, was beyond anything I have even read about, let alone witnessed,” he said, pausing as he scratched behind his ear and caught Will's shifting eyes. “I feared for your life, when you were brought into my care. If we had kept you apart, I'm certain this condition, in your case, could be fatal.” Will lowered his eyes from the doctor's gaze, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. He felt weak and ill and raw liked chafed skin. He needed Hannibal. The doctor cleared his throat. “But, we can never be completely sure that you are an Per mutua nexis couple until the two of you have bonded.” Will coughed against the saliva that was sucked into his lungs when he gasped. “Why would you think we are getting bonded?” he wheezed, eyes wide and lips agape as little red veins popped in his eye-whites.

Dr. Hammings jumped slightly at his outraged cry. “My apologies,” he quickly offered. “I assumed, because it's in your nature to do so and it has so many advantages... Forgive me,” he said, showing his palms to the Omega. “I certainly did not mean to imply anything.” Will licked his lips, his eyebrows low over his eyes. It was harder and harder to concentrate when he felt a tug from the inside, pulling him in an opposite direction. “Advantages?” was all he replied and Dr. Hammings nodded quickly. “After bonding, a couple's connection grows much stronger. Your minds and emotions will be attuned, aligned. Heats will be less aggressive and it will improve your health, happiness and lifespan for both of you,” the doctor said. “Unbonded, the Omega in you will continue to crave that bond, as it provides you with the ultimate protection for you and your family.”

Will felt a violent twitch at that last word. For a brief moment, his mind pictured Abigail, sitting at the dinner table in Hannibal's house, placed on a chair between the two of them. He blinked to get rid of the image. “Male Omega's are unfertile,” he snorted and Dr. Hammings lowered his eyes before looking back at the seething Omega. “Family can mean whatever you want it to mean, mister Graham.” He said, rueful smile around his lips. Will swallowed, his nostrils flaring. “What if I want it to mean my wife and stepson?” he said between tight lips and Dr. Hammings frowned his gray, bushy eyebrows. “Living separately from your Alpha will be difficult, Mr. Graham,” he said, and Will felt his throat closing and his skin tightening. “Difficult... But not impossible?” he choked. If it wasn't, if it wasn't, he would have to try, for Molly. He would have to go. He would have to. She had already lost one husband, she couldn't lose him too. Not like this.

“It depends how much you want it,” the doctor said, and Will wished he could snort, but found that he couldn't find the air. “The quality and lifespan of your life will be reduced, but if you can tolerate it, there might be a chance you can live separately between your heats,” the doctor said as he crossed out something on his notepad. Will stared at him before he closed his open mouth. “H-heats? How many heats?” Dr Hammings clicked his tongue. “Once every three months is regular. I wish I could subscribe you medication that would suppress it, but in your case that would be most unhealthy,” he said, shaking his head and meeting Will's reddening eyes. “Heats without your Alpha, even unbonded, can be fatal for a Per mutua nexis pair. Even the regular pairings can suffer heart problems and sometimes brain damage during heats without their mates, mostly due to hyperventilation, exhaustion, enfeeblement,....”

There was a silence during which Will stared at the wall behind Dr. Hammings' head. The pain inside him, the absence, was baring down on him harder and harder already. But he knew now, that when his heat was over, he would have to try and leave. For Molly. For the man he had decided to be, those years ago. “I understand you do not wish to stay with Dr. Lecter?” Dr. Hammings asked, his voice surprisingly neutral as Will's eyes shot down to his hands. His tongue pressed against his teeth as he swallowed against the thickness in his throat.

“I'm married. I can't just...,” he knew he sounded lost and fragile and not at all in control of his life anymore as he let the silence trail on without finding the right words to break it. Dr. Hammings held up his hand. “I do understand,” he said with an encouraging smile. “However, it is most common for a presented Omega to leave behind any other attachments.” His voice was factual, but the rising of Will's eyebrows made him backpedal. “Not that I am...” He didn't make an effort to complete the sentence as he clapped his hands in front of his face. “Look,” the doctor said, “your emotions and regards change from the moment a pair meets. Love connections for an Omega with any other than his Alpha are extremely difficult, even before presenting.”

Will knew how unstable he must have looked when he laughed openly and humorlessly with his head in his neck. Difficult to make a love connection with anyone, the doctor said. He had never felt more than an adorable flutter for any love interest in his life. There had only ever been one who made him feel, and what he made him feel shattered him completely with its intensity. As much pleasure, as much of it pain. “I can't abandon my family. They have been so good to me,” Will croaked, thinking about his soft, warm, quiet life with Molly. The heat and the beauty only ever skimmed the mere surface of his being, but it was the closest thing he had to normal, stable, content.

Will blinked, looking right into those pale blue eyes and shuddered as he spoke. “But it hurts to breathe without him,” he confessed, swallowing heavily. The doctor smiled again. “It is perfectly normal for a new Omega...,” he started but Will shook his head. “No, I mean... It was like that, even before I presented,” he uttered between his teeth, his cheeks paling and his pupils dilating at the thought of his mate. “It's worse now, certainly, but it was always like that without him. My body knew, long before my brain did, that we are made to be together,” he said, letting the words fall out as they came to his mouth, before he could rethink them. Admitting the truth to a stranger, before he could even admit it to himself.

The doctor didn't look appalled. Instead he nodded at his words. “That doesn't surprise me,” he said. “Even when your mind and body were not ready to present, it already must have recognized Dr. Lecter as your perfect match.” Will chuckled this time, eyes on his knees. “My perfect match. Hannibal Lecter,” He said, defeat present in his voice. “He's the representation of evil and death,” Will breathed out between his clenched jaws. “He's the devil.” He said, raising his eyes to the old man before him.
“And I have always felt such a desire to join him.”

Will's voice was a whisper, knowing the good doctor could have had him crucified for that confession, but instead he said nothing and Will felt the moisture gathering in his eyes. “And there is a part of me that feels that this could be an easy way out of the suffocating sanity of this world, and into the darkness that is his,” he sniffled, his nose dry, and he heard the doctor shuffling in his seat. “You are afraid to become like him? That your true self is like Dr. Lecter?” he asked and Will lifted his eyes to the old man before him.“I am him, remember? Isn't that what we are discussing here? Per mutua nexis.”

The doctor took a breath, his eyes on Will. “You are afraid to lose yourself in your desires,” he said and Will tightened his lips. “No,” he whispered. “I'm afraid to find myself in them.”

Chapter Text

“Touch me,” Will breathed, quickly moving towards his Alpha the moment Hannibal was freed from his restraints and the guards had left their cell. “Yes,” Hannibal met him halfway with equally fervid strides and instantly wrapped himself around his smaller mate, pressing open lips to the Omega's neck. His hands slid over Will's back, clad in jumpsuit, and held onto the two full cheeks of his ass with a firm squeeze. Will felt hot breath beneath his ear and chuckled when he experienced a rush of pure, golden pleasure replacing the tight, raspy pain of loss he had carried inside. He was bathing in everything good and right, like coming home from a war.

“Just a touch, Hannibal. A hand on my shoulder would have done,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips and heat stirring inside his belly. Hannibal pressed them closer with firm hands on his mate's lower back, sharing body heat through their clothes, before he loosened his grip and pulled back his head. “I apologize,” he said, a hint of mirthful smile around his mouth. “But please consider this more than civilized, compared to the first time you walked in here.” The words pulled at Will's lips as he saw a flash of their vigorous coupling on the damaged table behind his eyes, before shaking the rousing image from his mind and looking back into his Alpha's face. “Have you been in pain?”, he asked, his concern honest on his face as his back pressed against the touch of Hannibal's hand. The amber eyes that stared back lacked any emotional reflection for him to read as Hannibal tilted his head with careful precision. “In your absence, always,” he said, baring a hint of teeth, on the verge of mocking and Will pursed his lips in annoyance, feeling ridiculed for showing kindness, vulnerability. Maybe Hannibal recognized it for something else instead. Guilt, to blanket and hide the rubble beneath.

Before he could step away, Hannibal grabbed both his upper arms and stepped past him to move in from behind, nose to his neck, breathing in deep. “So, what did the good doctor say?”, Hannibal hummed against his skin, ignoring Will's tense shoulders as his lips brushed beneath the skin of his ear before inhaling deeply and openly in Will's hair. “Are you trying to smell him on me?”, Will asked, stepping forward and out of Hannibal's scenting, intrusive nose. “Fortunately, not a lot,” the Alpha grunted behind him, meaning every word, and Will turned back at him with a derisive chuckle.

“Did you think he invited me over for a fuck?”, he asked Hannibal, playfully raising his dark eyebrows. There was a second of thick, white silence where Hannibal froze and Will could see the muscles in his body tensing up under his clothes. Not a hair on The Alpha's body as much as trembled as his pupils blazed into open fire, before he grabbed the nearest chair within his reach and threw it against the glass wall with full force. Will jumped back at the sudden crash, gasping out loud as the piece of furniture bounced from the undamaged glass and landed back bent and dented on the hardwood floor. Then, silence.

“Jesus, Hannibal,” Will exclaimed with widened eyes as he rose his arms wide. “It was a joke.” Hannibal stood on his spot, shoulders low and eyes unblinking before he turned sideways, slowly, intently, to look at his mate. “It is beyond me, Will,” he confessed, looking rather unsettled behind his stoic posture. “Yes,” Will said, feeling breathless. He crossed his arms over his torso and let air escape between his tightened lips. “I understand that feeling.” He inhaled deeply and shuddered at the memory of all the things that had happened beyond him. Hannibal nodded, swallowed and looked at the damaged chair, folded on the floor. “Forgive me,” he said, his eyes trailing back to Will, whose lips stretched as he shook his head to dismiss the apparent need for an apology.

The Omega perched himself against the edge of the table, leaning against the surface while still resting both feet on the prison's hardwood floor. “He told me some things about Omega's and Alpha's,” he broke the pressing silence, shifting eyes towards Hannibal who had folded his hands behind his back. “Did he explain to you the meaning of Per mutua nexis?”, Hannibal asked, back to his old, calm exterior, and Will licked nervously at his dry lips. “Yes,” he said, wiggling his toes in the cotton, prison loafers. “Did he confirm that that is what we are?”, Hannibal pressed, rocking himself ever so slightly on the balls of his feet as Will placed his hands beside his hips on the table, leaning back. “He didn't specify,” he said between tight lips, bending and twisting the truth to accommodate him, but Hannibal stepped towards him with curious, smoldering eyes of liquid gold. “Don't play games,” he all but whispered, prowling towards him until they were knees to knees and Will could feel the heat of his skin. “It is what we are. I know it, and so do you.” He leaned in, and lips brushed the skin of Will's cheek before Hannibal pulled back. “And so does the good doctor.”

They stood close together, Will leaning against the table while Hannibal placed his hands next to his mate's, close to his hips. Will remained silent, but never looked away from the eyes of the predator before him who stared back with a deep, searching longing before he blinked, briefly lowered his gaze and suddenly bared his fangs in what appeared to be dangerous amusement. “Did he comment on our mating?”, Hannibal asked rather boldly, raising his eyebrows as Will flinched, snorting quite involuntarily. Hannibal's eyes narrowed, only a fraction of a second. “Because I happen to know he is quite the fanatic collector of certain prison tapes. All in the name of mother science.” The sly smile on the Alpha's lips promised blood and Will looked away, grimacing deeply before a huff and then a chuckle escaped from between his lips. Hannibal knew, always, everything. “Oh, he did,” the Omega grunted before he took hold of the front of Hannibal's jumpsuit with his fingers. “He said you have much to learn from me,” he couldn't help but tease. He looked at the open, lively eyes before him, unable to stop himself from smiling as he watched Hannibal mirroring his expression. “That I do,” the Alpha said, a fondness in his eyes that made it harder for Will to breathe.

Hannibal leaned close again, pressing lips against Will's. “Per mutua nexis,” he whispered, brushing around Will's parted mouth. “Together we are one, perfect being.” Will closed his eyes, pleasure weakening his lower jaw as he felt hands drifting over his overalls. “Stop, please,” he whispered, placing two hands against his Alpha's broad chest. Hannibal froze, straightened and pulled away the moment Will said the word, leaning back from his face and body with concerned, searching eyes.

Will swallowed, pushing at the heat in his loins as he looked at his Alpha and took a deep, unsteady breath. “My heat is almost over,” he said, voice soft as his knuckles pressed into the table. Hannibal looked back, trying out words on his lips. He looked more vulnerable now than Will had ever seen him, more even than when Will had asked him to leave, to go, to never come back. Hannibal asked him now, plain and simple; “Will you leave?”

The question was oddly straightforward for a man of so many words, but Will felt it stinging deep within him. “Yes,” he said, watching Hannibal's face remain unchanged, but his eyes deepened, darkened, pupils drawing wide like a dangerous beast, ready to pounce. “Are you going to see your wife?”, he asked and Will inhaled, hands restless against the table. “Yes,” he said again and watched Hannibal licking his lips briefly before he blinked, clenched his teeth and leaned closer. His face had become a maze of purple, blood-filled veins and his eyes a black, bottomless abyss. There was a heat to the room, a fire, hot and scorching, uncomfortable to bare skin, that filled the air around him.

“Will, listen to what I have to say...”, he started, keeping their eyes connected hard and hot and stinging. “If she touches you...”, the words were spoken softly, gently almost, but Will curled up his lip at them, feeling a spike of anger flaring at such an unfinished, unjustifiable threat. “Then what? What are you going to do?”, he hissed, defiant and angry, before he saw Hannibal freezing again, trembling with rage before him, until he turned to the nearest bed and snatched it up, inhumanly fast, inhumanly strong, hurling it across the room with a violent growl from between his teeth, only barely missing his books. Will jumped, hands up next to his head. “Ok, ok,” he gasped, feeling his mate's turmoil like a blizzard inside his own heart. “Just... calm down,” he hushed soothingly, as he approached him with careful steps and reached out his hand to instinctively place it on Hannibal shoulder. Muscles hard as rock seemed to unwind under his touch.

“I've told you this is beyond me,” Hannibal said quietly, his breathing a little uneven as he looked at the broken bed frame, already an unwelcome reminder that they would not be sharing a space anymore. He turned to Will, eyes close to pleading. “You don't believe I can't find a way out of here?”, he said. Will looked and heard him. It was not a threat, but a warning. The beast inside him was not always under his control. Not anymore. And Hannibal wished to spare Will from the grief he knew would follow, would the Alpha in him find a need to escape.

“Be sure not to smell like her when you come to see me,” he spoke, controlled again, careful, critical, and Will felt his skin breaking out in harsh goosebumps. “Don't tell me you were with her.” There was defeat in his words and Will swallowed against the grief that fell on him like a dark, smothering blanket. Hannibal had always enjoyed and reveled in his bloodlust, but now that his Omega would be released to the perilous world, he knew the Alpha inside of him could become his master, leading him beyond his own controlled and mapped-out mind. He leaned against the table beside Will before taking a deep, calming breath. “This is all very unsettling,” he said and Will almost laughed, hanging his head low and watching his curls fall before his eyes. He felt boiled, slowly, inside a thick concoction of pure misery.

“Not just for you,” he said, pushing up with his arms to lift himself onto the table. Hannibal was next to him, one hip against the edge, one foot linked across his ankle, and even in his casual posture, Will thought he would put a ballet dancer to shame. Full control and pure grace, once again. “Did the doctor tell you it is safe for you to leave when your heat is over?”, Hannibal asked him, pink lips pursed in unpleasant thought. Will wished he did not feel the need to slide closer to the Alpha and wrap arms around those tense shoulders, feel them loosen. “He told me I can try and live without you, the months between my heats,” Will said, remaining on his spot on the table and Hannibal turned to him with a sharp turn of his head. “No,” he said, shaking his head with a short, jerky movement as his eyes glowed a matte orange, reminding Will of frozen fire.

“It could be possible,” Will said, as Hannibal stepped from the table to fully turn to him. “It will be agony, Will,” he said and Will saw, for the first time, open fear in his amber eyes. It was a curious sight, one he was unfamiliar with, and it instantly threw him off. Hannibal stepped closer, pain evident on the sharp angles on his face, and reached a finger out to stroke against Will's cheek. “You will suffer,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the Omega so intrusively that Will averted his eyes to his knees. “I can't just choose you, Hannibal,” he spoke quietly. “What would that make me?” He stared at the fingers of his hands as Hannibal leaned closer, brushing lips to his temple. “Mine,” he spoke, deep, possessive, breath hot as Will shuddered at the lips against his ear. Fingers reached for Will's, but the Omega quickly pulled back his hand and slid off the table. “I have to try,” he said, knowing Hannibal could see the pressing tears in his eyes. “For my family.”

“Your family?”, Hannibal said, a smile around his lips as though listening to Will in the midst of telling a joke, but his eyes never lit. “And what is it you want, Will?”, the Alpha asked, and Will narrowed his eyes as he threw Hannibal an venomous glare. It was cruel to ask him that. It wasn't something he could think about... it couldn't be a concern. “I have to do this, for the person I ought to be, Hannibal,” he bit. “I can still choose to be the person I have decided to be, that day you walked out of my home.” Hannibal heard him, watched him, and for one brief moment, they were back in time. The bed, the chair, the conversation, the shut door before the silence that would last those long and many years.

Hannibal moved closer, a tender look in his eyes, shimmering behind heavy eyelids. “It's head against heart., the Alpha said, plain and simple, and Will bit on the inside of his cheek as he let his lips pull up. “And would I choose my heart, I would choose you?”, he asked, a tight smile and weak, tired eyes. Hannibal stepped forward, fast, smooth, like a prowling lion. He came to stand so close, Will felt his breath on his cheeks. He closed his eyes when the Alpha leaned in, hearing words against his ear. “I am your heart, Will. I am everything,” Hannibal said, like a whisper from a dream. “I'm the blood in your veins and the breath in your lungs.” Will inhaled sharply, eyes opening to see the tiger eyes of gold and blood so close he could stumble and drown in the fire.

“You will come back,” Hannibal said, self-assuringly, but Will caught the sliver of pain that crept behind his steady gaze. “I will be here for my next heat,” he said, trying to sound comforting, but Hannibal smiled a wide, toothy grin at his words. “I will be impressed if you last a week,” he said and Will watched the muscles of his jaw tighten under his skin. He reached out, an unconscious gesture that Will forced himself not to dwell upon, to touch that tense jawline under soft, clean-shaved skin.

“What about you?”, he asked, swallowing against a sudden rush of tightness that crept up in his chest. Hannibal tilted his head, pushing into Will's soothing hand. “I will be here, waiting,” he said. “Suffering?”, Will asked hesitantly, his lips twitching at the ache inside his chest. Hannibal smiled lightly, bringing up his own hand to cup the side of Will's scruffy cheek. “I have always suffered without you,” he said, poetically, dramatic, and Will grunted, taking back his hand as he bared his teeth at the man before him. “Stop it. It's an honest question I need a real answer to,” he scolded, watching Hannibal's soft eyes tightening.

“It's not a declaration of romantic love, Will,” he said, his voice laced with something stern that made Will's stomach churn. “You and I have always suffered without the other. It is in our nature.” Their eyes danced, never still and never disconnected, as the two stood in silence. There was so much Will could let himself wonder, so much he could remember about them both and so much he could let himself feel. But he had forced himself to close that part of his mind, every minute of every day since he choose a life without Hannibal. His Alpha watched him, undoubtedly seeing the turmoil on his face, and ran a single finger over the outer shell of Will's ear. The brush of skin reminded him so much of the time Hannibal had gutted him, with that unbearable look of pain in his eyes. That pain had been as murdering as the knife in his belly, and now, Will felt it squeezing around his heart with sharp, dirty nails.

He watched as Hannibal closed his eyes and leaned in, before soft lips brushed his with a firm but tender caress. A kiss, one that came from affection instead of lust. Will let Hannibal's lips lead his own into a soft dance of push and slide and search, feeling a soft tongue against his lips before he opened completely under the touch. Tongues slid together, teeth pulled gently on lips and it was painfully, unbearably moving, frail and slow and warm; hands on necks and cheeks and hair. It came from a place of pure devotion, worship, but Will pushed those thoughts into a dark corner of his mind labeled 'All things Hannibal', a corner that was never lit, and yet never had a single cobweb, or a speck of dust upon it.

Hannibal held his face in both hands when he pulled back, cupping him like a wounded bird as he smiled that barely-there smile. “That was a declaration of romantic love,” he said, and Will froze, blinked rapidly and took a sharp, stuttering breath as he felt his cheeks flush hot. Hannibal didn't step away, hands sliding down to Will neck. “You do not trust me with your heart?”, he asked, his voice thick and smooth and rich like honey, unable to shake off your skin and from your ears. Will's bottom lip trembled as he felt the warm touch of Hannibal's hands framing his skull, entangling in his hair. It was possessive, and despite everything, it felt just. “Given our history, I think our hearts would make a most destructive match,” he answered, his voice fragile in his throat as his eyes, overflowing with deep, pained longing shot back to Hannibal. Hannibal shushed him gently with a finger to his bottom lip, to still the trembling with a pressing thumb. “Now you have found your true form, that is no longer a concern,” he spoke, teeth bare with a smile while shimmering tears reflected the light in his eyes. “Bond with me,” his words were calm, but everything abut the Alpha burned bright and hot at the pleading request, “and I promise we will never hurt each other, ever again.”

Will felt one tear spilling on his cheek, followed by another, until he was blinded by a clouded vision of grief. He didn't speak, but whimpered when lips came to brush against the damp skin of his chin, his nose, his cheeks, kissing away the evidence of this torturous pain as hands stroked lightly through his hair. Will closed his eyes, feeling more drops slipping out from between his lids and he tilted his head back into cradling hands. “Will you let me touch you?”, Hannibal asked, and the warm simmer in Will's belly instantly flared hot. Yes. Yes he wanted that. He needed that, they both did. He was still in heat. They could still have this, for now.

“Touch me,” he said, winding fingers in Hannibal's sleek hair.

**

They ended up on the single bed that remained, Will on his back and Hannibal between his thighs, pushing fingers in the Omega's slick hole as he slid his wet lips over Will's painfully swollen erection. “Fuck, that feels so good,” Will croaked, knowing how he had begged the Alpha to forego anything other than good, hard penetration only yesterday. His heat really was decreasing, leaving room for more than just breeding. A thought he pushed from his mind as he bucked up into Hannibal's slick, hot mouth and cried out when soft lips brushed tight over the sensitive head.

He felt his cock hitting the tight muscles of the Alpha's throat, contracting tightly around him and taking him in deep as his tongue stroked the underside of his length. It was exactly how he liked to be touched, combined with the three fingers that pumped in and out of his dripping, clenching hole. Hannibal knew his body well, which was, again, a thought Will refused to dwell on. Instead, he concentrated on the hand that cupped his balls and rolled them gently in the palm. Everything was sliding and grinding and on the edge of something fierce as his cock slid far and deep against the silk walls and gripping muscles of Hannibal's throat. Fingers tapped his prostate, undisturbed and rapid, and without the maddening, blinding haze of lust and heat, Will found the sensation of Hannibal's touches almost unbearably pleasurable. There was a new sharp edge, a sting, a harshness poking at his nerves that seemed to intensify his senses and made him squirm and wriggle at the ecstatic torture that was nothing more than bright, hard pleasure.

Will released into the warm mouth encompassing him with strangled cry and spasming muscles, so forcefully he almost buckled off an aroused, thoroughbred Alpha, determined to swallow all of him down. The sight of his seed dripping from Hannibal's lips was enough to bring Will into a desperate frenzy, pushing Hannibal up to sit on the bed with his back against the wall. It wasn't enough. He flung himself into his lap and pushed their lips in to a fiery, feverish kiss, tasting fire, winter and sex on their tongues. Hands were sliding, fingers were gripping and Will wasted no time to lift his hips and position himself over the Alpha's cock, sinking down until there was nothing left to take. He was shaking hard enough to make the bed frame shudder, and the sight of tiger eyes blown wide and looking up at him in such warm awe, made the tears start to press behind his eyes. One strong arm was around his back and one hand on his shoulder as they started to move together. Hannibal held him steady, guiding his rolling hips and thrusting up to meet him as their bodies rocked together. Will rode him, deep and shuddering and whimpering against his mate's neck as his back was stroked by soothing hands and his ear filled with a deep, gratified purr. Will pulled back from Hannibal's shoulder so their mouths could meet and fuse as their bodies worked together towards a completion only Alpha and Omega could receive.

Will tilted his head up and bent his spine back, hands linked around Hannibal's neck for support as he worked his hips to move the Alpha into and out of his body, stretching his insides wide and deep and brushing against his throbbing prostate as his Alpha reached for his growing erection between them and folded his large hand around it. Pushing up and down, thumb pressed under the swollen head, Hannibal pumped him with the rhythm of their thrusting bodies. The pleasure they could receive and achieve together was not a human sensation. It was always something more, crown to toe, skin to bone, head to heart to soul. Deep mud to stars. Will felt it all when he climaxed around Hannibal's cock, spilling over Hannibal's hand, writhing deep and hard on the knot that stretched inside him, bigger, larger, always too much to take and never enough, never tearing him. They were a perfect fit, unsurprisingly.

Hannibal groaned and their lips opened on each other as Will felt himself deeply filled with his Alpha's liquid release. His body was plugged and full with hot semen as his mouth was invaded by hungry licks and nips, a low growl in his ear. Will's hips didn't stop rocking until he was physically unable to move and he collapsed as dead weight against Hannibal's chest. Arms came around his back and one cheek rested on his shoulder as they sagged against the wall together.

The pleasant pulse that waved through his body took away all the sickening aches that had crept under his skin like venomous spiders when he had been in Dr. Hammings' office for over an hour. It was like a cold sweat, a tremble in his muscles, before it became this nauseating headache between his eyes. Leaving Hannibal, even outside the heat, would bring him cold, grubbing pain. Will felt a nose nuzzling under his jaw and he let his eyes close at the feeling of lips on his neck as Hannibal pulled a sheet around their joined bodies.

“We are Per mutua nexis,” Will said, after a moment of sharing each other's heat in a silence that could be called blissful, if not for the razor sharp edge around the rim. “Yes,” Hannibal said into his neck, a low vibration brewing under his chest. In this moment, he was happy. Will knew it, he felt it and he envied him for it. He buried his nose into the Alpha's hair. If only he had presented the moment they had met, maybe...

“And if the choice was mine alone, we would be a bonded Per mutua nexis pair,” Hannibal hummed, nose nudging against his gland. Will pulled back and raised his head to lock eyes with his Alpha. “It's not,” he said, letting Hannibal's soft, golden gaze brush over him before he closed his eyes and sagged back against the comfortable chest.

“What happens when one of us dies?”, Will asked after another beat of skin on skin, breathing in harmony. His voice was quiet as he kept his nose against Hannibal's collarbone to avoid showing anything more than curiosity. Hannibal inhaled deeply before he answered and Will felt his chest expanding, and heard a rush of air entering the Alpha's nostrils. “Right now, the other would perish, living an empty, meaningless and shortened life filled with an incurable ache. Alphas and Omegas can exist without their mate, but it is little more than that.” Strong arms tightened around him as Will released an unsteady breath.

“Bit dramatic,” he said, finally opening his eyes to give Hannibal an unimpressed look that didn't nearly match how he felt. Hannibal continued, undisturbed. “Bonded, our life span would increase quite considerably and when one of us eventually dies, the other would naturally drift into their own death, shortly after,” the Alpha sighed against Will's temple. “It is God's poetry.” Will swallowed hard against the cold, dark water that flowed down his warm spine and forced himself not to clench around Hannibal. “It's very deranged,” he objected through his tight throat as Hannibal hummed into his ear. “It's beautiful, like swans. They choose one mate and stay together for the rest of their lives. If one of them dies, the only thing the other can do is lie down and wait for their own death.”

Will frowned deep, whipping his head to the side to squint at his Alpha. “Swans don't do that,” he said with indignity before meeting with the longing gaze from Hannibal. “It is what I will do, would you die before I do,” he said, and Will blinked, turning his head back with red heat on his cheeks as he ignored a deep, hot flutter scratching at him from inside his belly. “Can't you just find a new mate?”, he mumbled awkwardly, pushing through the sudden hoarseness coating his voice. Hannibal stiffened against him at the suggestion and Will knew exactly why when he, too, felt the beast in him turning his insides in disgust.

“We are Per mutua nexis, Will. You can only settle for a better mate,” Hannibal said, lips no longer at his ear. Despite everything he felt was right, he turned back his head to chase after that touch and pressed his nose alongside his Alpha. “Which doesn't exist,” he whispered, remembering. Hannibal leaned closer, pressing their lips into a soft kiss as his hips simultaneously pushed up and close into Will who instantly felt his thighs trembling as he squeezed around the cock buried inside. “Exactly,” Hannibal hissed before he stuttered his hips up and brought them both another round of building and collapsing pleasure in their guts.

Chapter Text

Everything was different.

Will's eyelids fluttered open, fighting off the rosy, peaceful slumber he was under, and the realization was immediate. He stiffened and sat himself upright, away from the warmth that surrounded his bare skin. He felt the stirring of the man in his embrace as he slid himself off the deflated Alpha knot that was still snug inside his body, leaving his insides clinging to nothing but emptiness. The man before him twitched, uncomfortable with cool air against warmed skin and Will looked up to see Hannibal's eyes open, alert, amber and brown, but without the rim of run-out blood he had grown so familiar with. No more tiger eyes of liquid gold. Instead, a bare circle of earthy colors stared back at him. No more cocoon of heat and skin and desperate need, explored with teeth and claws and warning growls. Their gaze lingered on the other as Hannibal sat up straight against the wall, and Will's bare body leaned backwards on the bed. He felt it. Everything he had grown unfamiliar with the last few days. He felt the cold. He felt the hunger. The world around him was suddenly hard and bright, a violation to his senses. It was... as it always had been. Will Graham, normal.

“My heat is over,” he said, stunned by the naked, vulnerable feeling that crept under his skin, and he scrambled for a blanket to wrap around his bare body, half an eye on the red dot of the ceiling camera. Hannibal moved towards him on the bed with hands on the mattress, his face bloodless under his skin. “Yes,” he confirmed breathlessly, his tone of voice and expression unidentifiable as he looked at Will with human eyes that almost looked cold compared to the orange, wild glow Will had gotten used to. He wondered what Hannibal saw changed in him, and if the Alpha, too, could tell by the color of Will's eyes and the lack of blood beneath his skin, that it was the truth. Will looked at his mate, unblinking, and saw that the previous golden glow that had warmed him, now hidden below the surface of Hannibal's skin, leaving him looking paler, tired. Will felt the immediate desire to touch the sharp bone of Hannibal's cheek and see if he felt as chilling as he appeared, his lips a deeper shade of purple. But he didn't touch him. He turned away instead.

He was himself again. No more heat in his loins, no haze before his eyes, no raging beast beneath his chest. Instead, he now felt that same beast stomping behind the closed doors to the attic of his mind, present, but no longer intruding. Once again, Will Graham was the master of his own being. The man with the dogs, the boat, the family. That was him. Will blinked into the silence that fell over the room and looked at his familiar pale feet, peeking from beneath the sheets. He noticed his nails were getting long. They needed cutting. It was a casual observation, but one for which there had been no room, mere hours ago.

He pulled his blanket tighter, bringing it close against his throat, hands twitching with tremor, and he looked at Hannibal beside him. He was there. He was Hannibal. Will's eyes slid carefully across the sharp angles of his features and the ashen tones of his sleek hair. He knew that man, from the curve of his fingers, to the taste of his lips, to the scent of his skin as it shimmered with sweat. He also knew the merciless heart that beat beneath the soft hair on his chest, the skillful way those digits curled around a knife or a saw, the screaming and slicing agony within them both as they lived and breathed to cherish, nurture, betray and destroy the other.

The feelings that accompanied him now, when he looked at Hannibal were pain, the real, slicing anger of betrayal, and a deep, deep longing to be part of every single inch of him. That last realization was one that made Will shrink further into his sheets, as he swallowed against his dry throat and stared at his unkempt toenails. Those feelings, they weren't new, they weren't different than they had been before, but this time he recognized them for what they were. Never before had he dared to identify the heat in his belly when he thought of his old friend and enemy, Hannibal Lecter, as more than resentment grown from deceit. Honest instinct, Hannibal had called it. He had told him that being an Omega would bare hidden desires, expose the layers of his mind and make him see himself with honest eyes, and now, Will understood. All these years he had tried to hide any form of undesired want and need behind his anger and his guilt. He couldn't think of him that way. Not his doctor, not his friend, not a man, not the devil. Not someone other than his wife. But despite the pain being there still, after all they had been through, he felt that deep desire had now created a room for itself, settled, and stayed.

“I...,” Will stammered, flickering restless eyes to Hannibal and back to the room. “Will,” the warm voice of his mate curled around his name, smooth but urgent. Will felt him moving closer as he looked up to meet amber eyes, open and bare behind the shimmer of earthly colors. Oh yes, he had always ached for the Alpha, long before he had presented Omega. But he was still Will, with his choices and memories and morals, his family and his home. And Hannibal, he was still the man that made him wake up in terror from a horrific memory, presented back to him in his dreams. He had chosen differently, many years ago, and he could still choose differently. He could choose to be that man with the family and the dogs and the boat. He could look at Hannibal, remember the knife in his gut, the bone saw on his skull, Abigail's ear in the sink, and he knew he would have to give everything to try and walk away. The thought alone caused something deep inside to shatter as the Omega in the attic howled unhappily and the human within him punched a hole through the wall of his mind.

“I have to leave,” Will said, his voice tight and his words choked. Hannibal leaned closer, placing one hand on his shoulder. “Will, listen...,” he said, pulling his Omega in with a warm, pleading gaze that made Will want to fall forward and drown a sweet death in amber liquid. He turned his head, away from the open stare. “I have to. Hannibal, I have to,” he heard himself whimpering and he watched steady eyes growing restless as Hannibal leaned towards him, taking hold of his upper arm. “You can't stay away for long,” he said, as much a plea as a command. “Will, you can't...” But Will placed a hand on Hannibal's to stop what he already knew was coming. “I can't stay here with you,” he said, trying for a rueful smile that became a grimace as Hannibal pressed his lips into a tight, hard line. “You won't allow yourself,” he said, darkened hazel eyes deep on Will, “but you can.”

Will huffed, pulling away from Hannibal's intense stare as he fought angrily against the grief that boiled behind his eyes. “How could anyone sanely choose this?”, he snapped, flicking his eyes hard on Hannibal to emphasize 'this'. Hannibal looked at him, his face as unreadable as only he could manage. “I'm not asking you to choose sanely. Only truthfully,” he said, body unmoving, but his pain evident on every pore.

Will shuffled across the bed and reached for the first prison jumpsuit he could find. It smelled like Hannibal, but he pulled it on anyway, underwear foregone. “I want the control over my life back,” he croaked, raising his voice involuntarily as he zipped the gray material over his chest. Hannibal rose himself up, sliding gracefully from the bed, stark naked. “When did you lose it, Will?”, he asked, reaching for the remaining jump suit which could only belong to the Omega. “Or should I ask you when you felt you had it?”, Hannibal said, a hint of that upper-class snobbishness Will remembered, as the Alpha dressed himself, eyes never leaving his mate.

The Omega looked back and moved his lips in a silent stutter, unable to decide on an answer to the question which would be both desirable and truthful, as Hannibal made his way towards him. His eyes were almost yellow under the fluorescent light, and his hand was cool when he placed it against Will's cheek. “You want to go back to your normal life with normal people, doing your normal things. And every single one of those polite days makes you crumble down a little further, until there is nothing left of Will Graham,” his voice was hushed, but Will caught every words effortlessly. “The only control you have there, is that you choose to be defeated.”

Will felt a hard, biting punch behind his eyes as he looked into Hannibal's face, pale from the absence of sunlight for years and years, and he wished he could turn away, or laugh, or push. He wished with all his might, that he could tell him he was wrong. Hannibal pressed his lips in that barely-there smile that was a peek behind the curtain of that endless depth behind the mask of his person suit. “You were born for something much greater,” he said, a spoken whisper. “You were born for my world, where everything is beauty and nothing is limitation.” Will felt his bottom lip quivering as Hannibal brushed his chin with his fingers. “You were born for me.” The words were not more than a light whisper, but Will felt himself trembling at the tangible desire that laced through every single one. A thumb stroked his cheekbone, hard behind soft flesh.

“Hannibal,” he said, his voice cracking as the rest of his sentence faded into nothing and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from breaking under those amber eyes. They moved closer, breathing the same air as their noses brushed. “Promise me one thing,” Hannibal said, his voice gentle, but with a hint of sternness as he showed a sliver of teeth from between his lips. “Stay close and come back to me when it starts to hurt,” lips brushed against Will's cheek, whose eyelids fluttered at the contact. “Don't be brave. Come back to me when you're in pain.” Hannibal's eyes flickered down to Will's mouth just before their lips brushed. It was soft and dry and barely there. “Promise me, Will,” Hannibal said against his mouth before Will pressed them firmer together.

“I'm not making any promises I don't fully understand,” Will breathed between their kisses, torn in his Alpha's arms as he let their lips press together one last time before pulling and stepping back, away from Hannibal. He heard the lock of the cell door being turned, and both him and Hannibal jerked their heads in the direction of the cold, metallic noise. News spread inside this prison like hot, hot fire, and Will would not at all be surprised if Alana already knew about his ended heat from the guard in the control room.

“Promise me you will return to me, Will,” Hannibal said, an urgency in his voice that yanked sickeningly on Will's insides. The lock turned again, an audible click. Will looked at Hannibal and hoped the tremble of his lips didn't show when he said, “I owe it to more than just myself to try and find out if I can bare life without you.”

Without another word between them, Will was escorted from the prison cell. He saw Hannibal restrained, emptiness in those amber eyes, but he didn't miss the flash of fangs when Alana placed a hand between Will's shoulders to lead him out the door.

**

Will stepped into Alana's office, wearing jeans and a gray jumper one of the staff members had been kind enough to collect from the suitcase in his abandoned hotel room. He remembered having been in that room, remembered the suitcase he had placed beside the made bed, but beyond that the memories and outlines of his days in pre-heat were shapeless in his mind. Alana took her place behind the desk and the other chair, the one that had held Jack Crawford during his first visit, now showed Dr. Hammings, perched up and smiling with a notebook on his lap.

“Four days of heat, a perfectly average score,” he said, as if to congratulate Will with the achievement. Will took the last remaining seat beside the doctor and flashed him a humorless, empty stare. “Lovely,” he spoke impassively, his vacant exterior a shield for the hot spark of irritation he felt scratching and scraping against his insides. There was that ill ache against his nerves, broken nails against sensitive skin, a sickening itch he couldn't reach. Will felt a headache coming on.

“Of course, if we start counting the heat from the moment you presented, it actually lasted...,” Dr. Hammings rattled on, unfazed by the pale and frosty Omega beside him. Alana, however, cleared her throat with an eye on the doctor, and the sentence died down. “Will,” she said, business-like with a soft, furry edge, “now that your heat is over, there are some legal matters that need to be discussed.” She kept her voice soft and clear, her sky blue eyes straight on his, but this time it was Dr. Hammings who cleared his throat and ripped away her gaze and concentration. Alana sighed as she exchanged a quick look with the older man across from her. “But Dr Hammings has assured me that, for today, it's best we solely focus on discussing and monitoring your mental and physical health.” She penned a quick scrabble on her notepad before she smiled pitifully at him and leaned closer over the desk, folding her hands together. “How are you feeling, Will?”

Will blinked, caught both pairs of blue eyes and felt himself scrutinized as Alana and Dr. Hammings both adjusted their posture to stare at him with calculating, searching stares. Being the focal point of the room was something he had always resented, but the little gear inside his chest that wound tight and tight and tighter caused him, instead of lowering his eyes to his knees, to snap at the two openly undressing his skull. “I'm fine,” he said curtly. “It's been five minutes.” He tightened his lips and eyed them both defiantly from under his damp curls.

“Separation from an unbonded mate after heat can have immediate consequences for your physical and emotional well-being, Mr. Graham,” Dr. Hammings said. “The stronger the connection...,” he waved his hand, as if the rest of the words would fall out of his sleeve that way. “Enfin, are you currently under emotional distress concerning Dr. Lecter?” He leaned forward and placed a hand on Will's armchair, as if to create a more friendly environment for him. Will blinked rapidly as he looked from the doctor's prying eyes to Alana, who stiffly tapped her pen to her bottom lip. “I think I can speak for Will and say we are all under emotional distress concerning Dr. Lecter,” she answered, raising a sharp eyebrow at Dr. Hammings as Will fidgeted with a loose thread on his sweater.

Dr. Hammings gave Alana a disgruntled look she chose to ignore, before he sat back into his chair, crossed his legs and turned back to the agitable Omega beside him. “I am sorry to tell you this, Mr. Graham, but even though your heat has ended, I have to urge you not to return home to your family immediately,” he said, squinting his eyes at Will as if expecting a certain hissy fit. Will breathed steadily, the air only breaching the shallow part of his lungs as he stared at the noses of his brown, worn-down shoes. Home. Family. Those terms had never ceased to be abstract in his mind, unable to take footing. Now, he failed to even find the room they had taken up within him, overshadowed by liquid gold that stuck and dripped from every wall.

He wasn't quite ready yet, to go home. “Fine,” he agreed dispassionately, teeth pressed together behind his lips as he watched the doctor and Alana quickly crossing eyes with each other. “Yes, well...,” Dr. Hammings hesitated, unsure of where to continue after the unexpected reaction. “It is just too much of a risk, one we're not willing to take,” the doctor, lost in his own unfit script, continued. “We need to monitor the situation, see how you respond without your Alpha.” Will's nostrils trembled at that singular word, which went unnoticed by the doctor. “If all goes well in the first week, we can certainly discuss...,” he continued, but Will shifted impatiently on his chair, feeling his skin pulling too tight over his bones. “I know. I know. It's fine,” he interrupted with rushing, restless hands as the continued stammering of Dr. Hammings rubbed against him like a rash. He pulled at the fabric of his sweater, feeling it scalding too hot against his body. It was chafing his skin. It just wasn't right.

“We can certainly book a flight for your wife Molly to meet you here,” Alana offered, quick to try and ease the flare of irritation that showed in the Omega's eyes. Will grimaced at the kind offer, picturing his Molly, sweet, gentle, hugging him, crying, clinging, telling him it would all be alright. Taking care of him, like she always did. The idea made his shoulders twitch from the cold shuddering that pinched at him beneath his skin, followed by remorse over his own, inexcusable reaction to the idea. He loved Molly. He loved her while the Omega in him bared his teeth. It is beyond me, Will, he remembered Hannibal's words. Be sure not to smell like her when you come to see me. Seeing her now, here, today, it wasn't safe. Not yet. In a week, he assured the man inside him, the one with the dogs and the boat and the family, in a week he would go home to his wife.

“Thank you,” he said quickly. “But we'll make our own arrangements.” He blinked at a frowning Alana, “Oh, well... If you change your mind...,” she stammered, momentarily dazed by the surprising decline. “Thank you,” Will spoke again, before Alana nodded, cleared her throat and regrouped. “You should also know, I received a phone call from Jack Crawford,” she said, letting her pen balance between her fingers as she tapped it against the opened notebook. “He wants to meet with you.” Will's fingers clenched hard into his thigh. Jack. Jack wanted to meet with him? He had disappeared most entirely during Will's heat and now he, what? Hoped to talk to him about that case? That Tooth fairy case? There was little in the world Will could care less about.

He tensed, fingers playing with the loosening elastic inside his sock. “In a few days maybe... I'm...,” he mumbled, and was strengthened by Dr. Hammings who backed him with an “I agree with Mr. Graham. Anything work related will have to wait.” The voice and look that accompanied the doctor were those of a medical professional caring for a patient, and for once, Will truly was grateful for his presence. Alana didn't press any further, but fished something out of her drawer and pushed it across her desk towards him. It was a silver key, with a wooden plate on the chain. On the polished surface shone the number 27 in golden letters.

“We extended your hotel room for another week,” Alana said, plucking a card from beneath her desk and handing it to Will. A calling card. White with blue stripes, very clinical. “This is an excellent psychiatrist in the area, in case you want to talk to a professional about the past week,” she said, and Will blinked, swallowed and tried to keep his lips from stretching too far down to openly display his distaste. “I think I have seen enough psychiatrists for a lifetime,” he deadpanned, eyes tight on Alana, who met his stare, pursed her lips and nodded stiffly as if to tell him, 'fair enough'.

Dr. Hammings had lifted himself off his chair and was now circling Will like a bald eagle while carrying his brown doctor's bag. “I would like to monitor your health, Mr. Graham. If you'll allow me to do some tests,” he asked without asking, and promptly took out a stethoscope and a blood pressure pump. Will watched the doctor scandering around him as he sat in his chair and underwent cold metal on his skin. Light in his ear, one of those ice-cream stick things on his tongue and a thermometer against his forehead. All the while, Alana was watching him, contemplating, quite obviously looking for words Will hoped she wouldn't find.

“So,” she said, as the band around his arm inflated, smiling ruefully as she unfolded her hands, showing her palms upwards. A sign of trust, vulnerability, a lure to make him feel safe. “How are you feeling, Will?” There was that familiar pity in her open face. Her blue eyes were weak with it. “It must be awful for you now, to fully understand that Hannibal is your Alpha.” It wasn't mockery, Will knew. She meant it, and said it in an attempt to comfort him. But her words were equally unwelcome either way. “His Per mutua nexis Alpha,” the doctor found it appropriate to add as he tapped the metal point of a little hammer against Will's knees. If he kicked the old man in the shin, it was completely by accident.

“I don't know what to say other than how deeply sorry I am for you,” Alana continued, her therapist voice thick as she offered him that pitiful smile. “I wouldn't wish this on anyone, let alone my dear friend.” And he was back to being her stray, her kicked little puppy. A slave to his biology and a martyr in Hannibal's clutches. Poor, victimized Will, the little lamb to the big bad lion. It was not at all... It wasn't like that. No one would understand it, but it wasn't like that. He just didn't know what it was. He looked from her eyes down to the stethoscope on his chest. “I have to make a phone call,” he said, ignoring her offered kindness as he shuffled on his chair. Dr. Hammings took the metal off his skin. “Your heart-rate is a little increased and so is your blood pressure, but nothing troubling,” he said, noticeably satisfied as he rested an amiable hand on Will's shoulder. “I would like to see you every day for the following week to check up on you.”

Will turned to the doctor, subtly shaking off the unwanted touch from his shoulder as he looked up into the watery blue eyes. “I'm not coming back to this place every day,” he said, feeling himself shiver at the thought of being so close, so close to Hannibal, without... “Oh, but I would definitely encourage you to come in and visit your Alpha this coming week, Mr. Graham. Maybe even seek out intimacy.” The doctor spoke casually as Will clutched his hand hard around the armrests of his chair, eyes and lips wide in confusion. “W-what?”, he stammered as he saw Alana offering him a sympathetic look from behind the desk. The doctor smiled his infuriating smile, calm and patient with a pinch of superiority. “The chances of a successful separation would certainly improve with a gentle phasing off, rather than going completely 'cold turkey'”, he spoke, air quoting the last two words and Will ground his teeth violently inside his mouth. “No one told me about this before,” he bit, confusion and anger blending perfectly on his face. The doctor sighed, nodded his head once in politeness and opened his hands. “The choice is yours, Mr. Graham, I simply feel it would be beneficial for your separation and health to ease gently into your time apart. Even a phone call could take the edge off of your symptoms.”

Will shook his head, the words and possibilities a swarm of birds around his head, cawing at him cacophonously. This wasn't how he had pictured this. He was going to come to his own, read a book, overcome the aches that arose and go back home until his next heat. He wasn't going to go back, he wasn't going to see him. “Will,” Alana's voice broke through the wall of noise inside his head. He looked up at her, seeing her leaning forward on the desk, holding another calling card between two fingers. “We can offer you all of the possibilities here. Whatever you need.” He wished he could growl at her as her lips pressed together in a pitiful pout. “You are allowed to visit and enter the cell, whenever you need to,” she spoke, handing him the card in her hand. “I've written down the number you can call to reach...”

Will took the card, shoving it straight into his pocket as he jumped up from the chair. “I have to go,”
he said urgently, as he reached for his coat. “Mr. Graham...,” Dr. Hammings started, his doctor voice back in place, but Will reached forward to grab the key from the desk. “I really have to make that phone call,” he said, and without a second glance back, he walked out of Alana's office, down the hall, and out of the building into the first fresh air he had had in days.

Chapter Text

Will moved down the stone steps of stairs that lead into the main street below, with squinting eyes registering nothing but what was directly in front of his feet. The light was bright and the air was cool against the skin of his face, filling his cramped lungs with oxygen. Unfiltered. There were cars, bikes and people, scattered, moving seamlessly around him as he walked, walked, walked, without a moment to stop and think of where to go. He didn't realize he was crossing a road until something shining, red and massive nearly bumped his thigh, and he flinched at the honked horn close to his ear.

But he walked on and continued walking and with every step, he felt the pull. There was a tug on his mind and a tug on his body, as real as actual hands on his skin and his brain, and it wasn't hard to figure out whose hands those were. Will looked at the concrete passing beneath his shoes, watched patches of grass go by, and one hopping, impertinent pigeon. He had needed to get out of that office, away from prying eyes and prying instruments. He knew Alana, he even knew Dr. Hammings to an extent, but their company felt like that of total strangers, unwilling and unable to understand the works of his animal brain, still very much present within him. Also, forgotten and a mystery even to him, his human one.

They had looked at him, wanting a solution, a cure, a way for him to live without his Alpha and even outside of his heat, the thought made the beast inside him stagger with outrage. He felt a sickening shudder beneath his skin, a violent pounding against his temples, the rising thrumming of the blood in his veins that screamed for one, and one alone. Will, however, the man with the family, could write himself a book of reasons why walking away was the only walking to be done. He remembered choosing a family life of quiet and endless snow to hide behind. He also remembered, more clearly than anything, the kiss Hannibal shared with him only yesterday, speaking of his feelings of romantic love. Will's lips tightened as he kicked at an empty beer can with the toe of his shoe. The powerful struggle of head and heart had begun the very moment he first crossed eyes with his mate. Now, he was unsure if those parts still even belonged to him.

He found an abandoned bench in an abandoned park and dropped himself down as he reached inside the pocket of his coat with restless fingers, scouting for his phone. He switched on the little black device, tapping out the password and ignoring the numerous missed calls and messages that popped onto the screen, before he scrolled through the address book. The name he was looking for was easily found. Odd-looking, staring back at him so plainly, cheaply illuminated. He pressed the green button before he could stop to think.

The phone rang only twice before she picked up, an urgency present in her voice. She sounded so familiar, like calling a childhood friend after years and years of separation. “Molly?”, he said, and heard her big sigh of relief through the speaker against his ear. “Will, oh thank God,” she said, elated and simultaneously worried, a mother's trait. “I was about to hire a dog-sitter and jump on a plane. The doctor told me you have Typhoid fever but they wouldn't let me speak to you...” Will balanced his foot on a loose branch as her voice echoed in his ear. He hadn't bothered to remember what his made-up story was supposed to be. He wasn't good with those things. “No, Molly, it's... I'm OK. I'm not sick,” he interjected as he looked up at the white clouds above his head. No matter how he would dress up the truth, damage would be done. “What happened? Are you coming home?”, Molly's voice sounded impatient, far away. What hurt him most was that it didn't hurt more, being so close and so far away from her. His Molly. His friend. His sister. His sweet, good Molly that never stopped smiling, or fighting, or trying. She was the sun where he was the moon. And where Hannibal was the dark, dark abyss.

“I want to. I can't, I...”, he said, and closed his eyes. Inside of him was an iron thread that yanked and pulled as his skin searched and yearned for the warm touch of strong Alpha hands. Even talking to his good, dearest Molly, he could envision being back on that mattress, watching that smile around sharp, sharp teeth. “What's wrong? Tell me, please. Whatever it is, we'll...”, she rambled, worried, kind...
He watched the clouds, and the beast within him howled defiantly at the voice on the other end of the line. He lowered his eyes to his knees as he wished simultaneously that he could see her, and not speak to her at all.

“I'm an Omega,” Will interrupted her, his voice soft but clear. He licked at his dry lips and balanced one foot on the nose of the other. The line was silent. Dead silent. He couldn't even hear a breath until Molly inhaled sharply into the horn, momentarily startling him. “You're...”, she breathed, speaking slowly against the receiver and getting stuck on the word. Will could envision her perfectly, standing in their kitchen with the phone against her ear, her eyes seeing nothing but endless void as she stared out of the window, mouth and eyes agape. “I'm an Omega,” he repeated and he heard her sigh. The sound was whole, long, ending with what sounded like a chuckle and his skin tightened hard around his body. She was relieved, he realized, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, because he wasn't wounded, or damaged. She didn't understand, just like he hadn't, what it meant to present for an Alpha.

“You presented? You presented in prison?”, Molly asked him and Will ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “Something like that,” he said. He was a prick for not telling her about that letter, but he couldn't find the strength to start at the beginning of a story that seemed to have started decades ago. In his mind, he saw the golden glow of tiger eyes. “Well... I guess you have a little dog in you after all,” Molly said, a sweet attempt to lighten the heavy mood, but only breaking his heart further. “How did it happen? Did you present for someone you met there?”, she asked bravely and Will felt his throat squeezing tight under the hopeful spark that colored her gentle voice. He swallowed hard, trying not to picture her lovely face, tear-stricken and crushed. “I presented for Hannibal,” he said in a single breath, answering her honestly.

The silence returned for a moment while Will watched a cloud in the shape of a fish. “Oh. Oh wow, I... Hannibal...”, Molly stammered, and Will squeezed his eyes together hard to fight the unfair throbbing behind his temples. “I didn't know I was an Omega. Molly, I had no idea this was going to happen,” he told her, not knowing why he felt the need to clarify. Why, after all, would she think... “No, of course not, I know it is not a voluntary thing,” Molly reassured him, like he was the one who needed reassuring. “No,” he breathed, itching his arms beneath his sweater, the fabric rough on his sensitive skin.

“So, what happened? Did they keep you at the hospital wing? Treat your heat symptoms?”, Molly asked and Will felt his gut and heart dropping and shattering into a million pieces. He loved Molly because this was who she was. She was light, innocent, she was there and she trusted him to make the right decisions. Not like Hannibal, who instead always encouraged him to become the worst version of himself. She was at the other end of the spectrum. He remained silent, wondering what would happen once she knew the truth. “It must have been difficult for you, Will,” she broke the silence in misplaced sympathy. Sympathy for pain that was not his, oblivious of the pain that was. Will wished he could cry. It would have been a fitting demonstration of his affection and his guilt. But there were no tears behind his eyes to press out.

“Molly...”, he tried instead, but her voice carried over his. “What happened, Will? Why couldn't I see you?”, she asked persistently, when he simply held his breath and released. The fish cloud was now an ice cream cone. “I wasn't in the hospital wing,” he spoke slowly, his eyes squinting shut. “I was with him.” His voice was barely a whisper. His fingers brushed a scab on his collarbone under his sweater, marks of sharp teeth. “I was with Hannibal during my heat.” This time, the silence on the other end was longer and he could almost hear the frown that was undoubtedly etching deeper on her face. She was trying to understand what he meant, what else it could mean instead of what it surely sounded like. “Molly, there was no other way,” he added, his voice much flatter than he had hoped for as he looked at his fingertips. There was blood on them, drawn from the scab he had been scratching. Molly stuttered her words: “Oh. Oh, so...Did you...? So you, and him....”

He brought his finger to his lips, tasting the blood. It was such a familiar taste on his tongue. It brought back images of teeth on lips and skin, just as her questions pulled up visions of him against the table, the bed, the wall. “I am so sorry,” he spoke almost inaudibly, into the phone. He heard her intake of breath, an indication that she realized just what he was trying to tell her. Will watched two ducks chasing each other for a crust of bread as Molly breathed into his ear. “How... how are you, now? Are you OK?”, she stuttered, concern still dominant where there could have been outrage, jealousy. Not Molly. Molly didn't expect him to have done or felt anything wrong. He ran a finger absently over his bottom lip, remembering sharp and soft kisses in the same breath. “It's complicated,” he said, and hated himself for uttering such a cliché, bullshit thing to his concerned wife. He didn't add to it, however. Instead, he was rubbing fingers over the bite mark on his thigh.

“Yeah, I believe that,” Molly said, her voice dense with obvious shock. “But your heat is over? Can you come home?” There was so much hope in the color of her tone that Will felt cold under his sweater and jacket, sitting in the bright, morning sun. “No, not for another week,” he admitted. “They want to see how things go, with me, without...”, he closed his eyes. If he inhaled deeply, he could smell a lingering trace of winter-fire on his skin. The scent made him want to weep. “I want to come and see you. I'll put Wally up with my mother, and...”, Molly spoke and Will's eyes shot back open, pulled from the hot depth of his mind. “No,” he spoke, too quick, too loud. He quickly corrected himself. “No, I don't feel like myself quite yet. I-I need some time...”, he stuttered on, wishing he could rip that feeling out of him and jump on a plane, kiss his wife, forget this ever happened. Instead, the thought made his muscles ache with tension.

“OK. OK. I completely understand,” Molly said gently and Will dug nails into his knee as she soothed him further. “Whenever you need me, I'll be there.” It was so undeserved, Will would have laughed if he remembered how. Instead, he sighed, willing away the memories of his nose pressed under his Alpha's jaw. “Oh Molly, I... Thank you,” he struggled. Across the street walked a woman with a Bloodhound on a short leash. His droopy eyes reminded him of the Basset Hound he used to have, growing up. His name was Jeff. “Are you sure you're okay? Did he... did he hurt you at all?”, Molly's voice sounded in his ear, soft and tender, like a gentle hand through his hair. Again, Will could feel those teeth sinking into his flesh, the squeezing hand around his throat, the stretching knot inside his body. “No,” he breathed hard. “No, he didn't hurt me.” She sighed in relief, and Will blinked at all the images that filled his mind, of writhing, naked flesh.

Molly swallowed audibly. “Was it... was it really awful? I mean...”, she asked, unable to push her voice past the lump in her throat. How she saw him as the wounded animal, the frightened pup in the lion's den, just like all the others did. No one saw the wolf. No one ever had, no one but Hannibal. “It's difficult to explain,” he offered her, pain tearing little holes in his words. It was difficult, that was the truth. But it was also gutwrenchingly hurtful to do so. Molly soothed him with a gentle hum that rang warm against his ear. “I'm sure it was a shock for both of you, such a sudden change,” she said and Will rested the inside of his cheeks between his teeth. There was an English bulldog across the street, sniffing under the Bloodhound's tail. “Yeah. Yeah, it was,” he said, eyes on the playful wagging of the bulgy dogs across from him. He didn't tell her Hannibal knew, Hannibal suspected, Hannibal lured him in, and he followed, without enough of a fight. Presenting was nothing he could blame himself for. Soft morning kisses on the mattress, for that he had no excuse.

“As long as you're OK, we can find a way to deal with this. We will work it out, somehow,” Molly said, assuring him, and Will closed his eyes as the animal inside him dug hard at his memories of sleek, silver hair between his fingers. “Molly, I am so sorry,” he gasped, finding the shame and the guilt within him at her sweet, optimistic words, her belief they were a team, side by side, instead of feeling the depth that had fallen between them. “Don't,” she quickly interjected. “This is nature, biology. There is nothing you could have done.” He inhaled sharply before he sighed shakily into the palm of the hand supporting his phone. Molly chuckled again, trying to ease him when she said, “You were always the rebellious kind.”

He wished he could throw his phone into the duck pond. Scream at her the things he had rebelliously done, long before her. After Hannibal. “Yeah, well...”, he mumbled instead, flexing his fingers around the device that was beginning to heat up against his ear. Molly hummed again, making him feel like a spluttering, lost toddler in his mother's embrace. Coddled, but not heard. “Luckily, we live in a time where doctors and medication don't force us to be slaves to our bodies anymore,” she said encouragingly and Will feared he would grind his teeth to the root. She didn't ask, but she assumed. How could he tell her now, that there were no pills for him? No treatment, other than to spend his heats with a dangerous inmate that also happened to have a hold on his heart. He didn't speak. He let the silence hang between them as he watched a young woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair around.

Molly breathed into the phone. “Look,” she said, “how about you try to come to yourself for now, call me tomorrow, or whenever you want to talk, and when you come home we will work out what our options are.” The offer was more than kind, accommodated to his every need. And Molly was ready, so ready to fight with him to fix this, to make this work, to understand. He wished he would feel relief, instead of suffocation. “Yeah, OK,” he said. “Good?”, she checked at the flatness of his tone. “Yeah. Yes, good,” he tried harder, and heard the smile in her voice when she sighed. He cleared his throat and sat himself up straight. “Thank you Molly, I-I will speak to you very soon,” he said, feeling his hot ear, the cramped feeling of his jaw as he watched the sky through the trees. The ice-cream cone was gone. Replaced shapeless clouds. “Don't worry too much,” Molly said. “Everything will turn out fine.” Her soothing tone stroked against his skin, never reaching deeper. “Bye, Molly,” Will said. “Bye, Will,” she replied.

Afterwards, as he walked back to his hotel, Will realized he hadn't asked her how she was feeling. He hadn't asked what she had been through this past week, or how Wally was doing. He also realized, he probably never had.

**

It took Will close to twenty minutes to arrive at the shabby motel room. He was greeted by a pale green door with chipped paint along the side and a large number 27 nailed right above the peephole. He buried his hands deep in the pocket of his dark brown coat, fishing out the plated key with unsteady fingers. He barely remembered arriving here, only days before today, as he looked around the parking lot behind him. The motel was a cheap, ground floor row of rooms, and his was at the far, far back. All he could recall as he took in his surroundings, was a crazed blur of painful Omega need that burning him alive from the inside out. Now, all he felt was the remains, smoking ashes, burned and curled up wallpaper in the rooms of his mind palace. He pushed the key into the lock and stepped onto the shabby, maroon carpet of a small room with a queen size bed, curtains drawn shut and his black suitcase messily pushed into the corner. That suitcase, his stuff. It felt foreign now, as he looked at the corner of a book, a sleeve of a sweater and the tube of a sock that peeked out between the opened zipper. That was his. He recognized it with his eyes, but he didn't feel like it belonged to the man he was now. Maybe too much had happened in such a short time, for him to come back to himself just yet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his body down with a long and heavy groan as he placed supportive arms behind him and dropped back his head, staring at the nicotine stained ceiling. The way here had been a blur as he wandered through the meaningless, seamless streets filled with dull, gray houses and faded family cars. He hadn't even considered the possibility of calling a cab, grateful for the air blowing at the whirl of ashes inside his skull, and the opportunity to try and clear a head that had long ago proven to be unclearable. It stung him like a venomous bee that the walk, one that should have been filled with the haunting, repeating memory of the gutwrenching phone call to his wife, had instead spread a throbbing hum inside his belly, clawing up memories of lips on his skin and a scent of burned wood that seemed permanently housed inside his nose.

Will sighed, long, fragile, as his arms failed to hold him up, forcing him to lower his head onto the cheap, spring mattress that squeaked with every breath. He felt empty. He felt cold. He felt lost. He would have to survive here, for one week, before he would return home. One week without Molly. One week, he was still allowed to see Hannibal, speak to him. Touch him, if Dr. Hammings' advice was anything to go by. He wanted the best chance to survive his time before the next heat, but he didn't feel he could return to the cell. Not with Hannibal's claws still so deep in his back.

So now, he had time. Days of just Will. Not Hannibal's Will, nor Molly's. Just Will. He wrapped both arms in front of his face, blocking his view as he breathed into the crease of his elbow. Was he just going to exist, be, feel how much it was going to hurt? He felt a tear seeping from between his closed lids onto his cheeks, soaked up by his jacket's sleeve. He missed Hannibal. Already. He missed him with all he had to give, after mere hours of separation. It was the only thing in him, after the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, that stuck out clearly, unfazed, undamaged. He missed his Alpha.

Will sat up, violently rubbing at the streaks on his cheek as he yanked off his coat and flung it as far from the bed as he could manage. This, it reminded him so much of the time Hannibal had turned himself over to Jack. He cried then too, when they had all left, and he was alone inside his house. He had missed Hannibal then too, but it was easier to admit to himself when Hannibal was really gone. Now, Will felt the Omega in him, pacing in the attic. Angry, restless, searching for its mate, and he wondered where his feelings sprung from this time. How could he possibly know if the Omega wanted his Alpha, or Will wanted Hannibal.

He took a shower, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the tiles as the hot water streamed from his face to his feet. He stood there, arms braced on the wall, refusing to touch his own skin as he let his body go numb under the heat. Everything hurt, but the most vile, cruel, unbearable part of it, was that he knew this feeling. The raw ache of his skin, the tightening of his stomach, the never ending tension of crooked toes, digging against every surface. He had felt this way for many years, bearing it. He didn't remember ever feeling different. But now that he had tasted the pure, powerful bliss that was the nearness of his Alpha, that pain was like raw beans compared to an ongoing, glorious feast. He had tolerated it, but it had become intolerable. He toweled himself off, quickly and imprecise as he slid his naked body between cheap, clean white sheets that felt crisp against his skin.

He didn't have a plan. He could only wait, and feel, and if everything would go as expected, slowly perish by himself in this tiny motel room before he could try to return to the real world. He would have to survive, just until next Monday, and he would fly home, start fresh. 'I will be impressed if you last a week,' Hannibal had said, and Will swallowed at the sickening buzz under his skin, as if his body wished him to move, to search, to stop resting and find whom it needed most. Instead, he closed his eyes. “Fuck you, Hannibal,” he mumbled under his breath. He didn't know how long he would last, the pain that kneaded around his muscles already enough to make him squirm. Pain like a toothache, right on the cavity and deep into your jaw, that was what it felt like.

Bonded, it would be easier, they had said. Bonded, separation wouldn't hurt like this. But bonded, he would never, ever be able to make a place for himself without Hannibal, with his family, within his own mind. He should drink, eat, he should get dressed, the sun still out behind the curtains. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching the ceiling for fading hours, running his head past the days, the memories, the sounds and scents. He was trying to fit it all in, shape it around, find a way to make it work. What he wanted, what he felt, what he desired, it was a box of endless entangled rope, impossible to see where it starts, and how it could come undone.

He fell into slumber, exhausted from days upon days of physical and emotional havoc, and hovered behind his eyes in a state of half sleep, half alert, half dreams and half thoughts for hours and hours. When he woke up, it was dark outside, and Will sat up straight, fingers scratching wildly at his windpipe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe anymore. In his dreams, he had been alone in the woods at night, following his nose to the smell of burning wood until he found the beast he had been looking for. Large, tiger eyes, silver gray hair, prominent, sharp fangs. The beast growled at him, hunching his back with hairs rising up from its neck. Its lip curled up, its golden eyes squinted. But Will wasn't afraid. He approached the beast, raising a hand, touching the muzzle above the nose. For a moment they stared at each other, watching, curiously, until he noticed that the beast was whimpering. It was quiet, so quiet he could barely hear, but when he looked at his hand, he realized he was pushing his own nails deep into the bridge of its nose. Blood streamed down the muzzle, the beast's eyes flared red, and before he could step back, sharp fangs closed around his throat.

“Fuck,” Will wheezed, finding his breath in his tightened lungs, slowly coming to himself in the dark as he looked at his fingers. No blood. It was a dream. It had felt so fucking real. He fell on his pillow, feeling his body spasming around his ribcage as the sour pain returned to his veins. His breathing didn't steady, but stayed rapid as he swallowed and blinked at the ceiling, sweat forming a thin layer on his skin. An hour passed. Another one. He couldn't breathe. And it hurt, so bad. It was still pitch black when he lifted himself out of bed and fumbled around for his pants. His fingers reached into his pocket, finding a crumpled piece of paper before he folded his naked body back between the sheets.

Before he allowed himself to think, if that were at all possible over the acid pain in his veins, Will took the phone on his nightstand off the receiver and held it against his ear, punching in the number on the calling card in his hand. He wanted to hang up before the call could make it through but his fingers only twitched around the horn as it rang once, twice, three time before he was greeted by a male voice. Will stuttered around his name when he said, “This is Will Graham calling for...”

“Dr. Lecter. Of course, Mr. Graham. I'll put you through,” the voice replied, and Will froze at the name spoken against his ear. Again, his fingers twitched, again he wanted to let go, end the call, make it stop. But minutes of silence pressed on, and he never moved. There was a short click, a breath, and a voice that made his skin bloom like the first rays of sun on spring flowers.

“How is the world without me, Will?”

Chapter Text

Will's lungs opened under the gentle rumble against his ear, allowing the soothing, vital air into his increased bloodstream. He closed his eyes, pressing them shut as his fingers tightened painfully around the horn in his hand. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to scream. He wasn't going to laugh out loud from the feather-like strokes of relief that brushed against every raw, pulsing ache beneath the surface of his skin, a cool touch to the chafing burn. It was not enough, however, to quell the flames that licked and lingered deeper.

“I feel completely lost,” he croaked into the phone, resting his head against the device out of pure exhaustion. It hadn't been a full day since he left, but already his muscles felt mangled, like he had been thrown around like a rag doll within his own skin. “As do I,” Hannibal admitted from the other end, without shame, without hesitation. Will almost breathed a chuckle at the easy, familiar flow of his Alpha's voice against his glowing ear as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Weakness never shone through in Hannibal, but Will could hear in the aura around his words that he, too, felt a strain that loosened the moment their voices met.

“And I hate myself for calling you,” Will confessed, his hand settling over his eyes as he sank into the pillow behind his back. He loathed his lack of control, restraint, but it was hard to truly feel regret now that the fist around his throat finally eased its grip. He was an addict in the throes of withdrawal. “At 4 in the morning,” Hannibal added, a smile around his lips that Will could envision before his eyes in a single heartbeat. He pressed two palms against his sockets, clenching the horn between tense fingers. “Fuck.” He hadn't even looked at the time. It hadn't mattered. But now, he felt a pinch of embarrassment at the desperation his actions surely screamed. He hadn't even been able to wait until morning. He hadn't been able to wait a full day.

“Will...,” Hannibal said, the timbre and curve of his voice dancing a seamless curl around his name. It pulled at something inside the Omega, yanked at him, right behind his bellybutton. He shot upright on the bed, the horn pressing hard against his ear. He heard it, the tremble of a plea beneath the honey of his Alpha's voice. “Answer me honestly,” Will demanded, his voice louder, sharper, with a tinge of fear to underline his words. “Are you in pain?” The question made his own body shudder and twitch against the mattress, a reminder of the agony that still scratched within him. The thought of Hannibal, alone in his cell, constantly watched, dressed in rough cotton and bothered with offensive prison food as he curled up on his single mattress with arms around his weakened body, made Will want to lurch for the TV, anything within his reach, and hurl it out of the motel window. The urge was sudden, but it was wild.

But then, as Hannibal told him: “The pain of separation is very much a mental anguish for an Alpha.” Will felt his violent temper converting into a sharp sting of hot irritation. A mental anguish? He, Will, he was suffering like a wounded animal. The stabbing, head-splitting pulses in his joints, the nauseating burn in his belly, the wrecking flow of acid through bones and veins and nerves was a constant vibration beneath his every heartbeat. He was broken, trembling, already feeling his body breaking down and now Hannibal told him...

“You don't feel pain?”, his voice was undignified on the brink of childish, even to him. It quivered with outrage at an injustice he felt like a knife to his back, even if a hint of solace simultaneously seeped through the cracks of his mind and washed away the previous, harrowing image of his suffering Alpha. There was a pause on the other end, and when Hannibal finally did speak, it was through tightened jaws. “Do you truly believe that is what I said?”, he asked sharply and Will heard a scrape of metal against his ear. The Omega pictured his mate taking place in one of the seats at the table, and he breathed in deeply through his nose, feeling his chest expanding without trouble.

“An Alpha's strength lies in his strength,” Hannibal told him, factually. “Physical weakness would not be beneficial to his protective nature.” Will smiled despite everything, unable to open his eyes under the pressure of sleep, pain and near-relief that seemed to weigh on his eyelids. “Whereas an Omega just needs to stay near his Alpha,” he breathed into the phone, making sure to put a cutting edge around his words as he rested against the mattress, bare under the sheets. Hannibal hummed, disapproval evident in his tone. “For safety. It is purely instinctual,” he spoke, otherwise ignoring the derisive tone in his mate's voice. “An Alpha, in turn, is designed to protect his Omega and ensure his family's wellbeing.
I am in no position to do so here.”

Will heard the words and felt the deep wound that was uncovered by them, but lost the voice to speak in return. That one word, it was enough to make him lose his grip on his own, slippery mind. Family. He blinked and thought of Molly, Wally. He thought of Abigail, his Dad. It was foreign to him still, that term. For some reason, it would never fit around him and take the shape he had envisioned. Once, family would have made him think of a home, a wife, a flock of children, and a pack of dogs. And even as he tried to picture it in the moment, those faces in his mind were never formed, never shaped, never colored in.

Family. At times, it reminded him of the two swans that couldn't exist without the other, roaming together from pond to pond. “Will...”, Hannibal sighed away the silence, the pain in his voice more evident now, mostly because he allowed it to peek through. “I know...”, Will muttered, grief heavy behind his eyes as he breathed hard into the phone. “We both suffer,” he said, and with those words he acknowledged the pain of his mate, however different than his own. Something they both needed as even alone, and even with divergent needs, no one would ever understand them better than the other.

“Yes,” Hannibal said into the horn, a sigh, followed by a much more intrusive: “Did you get to speak to your wife?” Will's eyes widened at the unexpected question, finally able to keep them open as he frowned at the receiver. “I thought you didn't want to hear about Molly,” he said defensively and Hannibal hummed low in his throat, a noise Will suspected was meant to mask the growl that undoubtedly rested in his Alpha's throat. “I assume you did not yet see, or touch her.” Hannibal's words carried something supercilious, but the strain that ran under his tone was deep. “I spoke to her,” Will confirmed, his voice more timid than he cared for. “She knows what is happening.” His eyes shifted uneasily through the room as he spoke, picturing his mate's dilated pupils from inside his mind.

“Does she know who you presented for?”, Hannibal asked, and even though Will could not catch it in his tone, he was certain the Alpha was on the brim of gloating. “She knows it was you,” he spoke curtly, lips pressed tight. “And she knows who you are.” Will lowered his eyes to his bare chest, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation as his heartbeat thumping louder in his throat. He wondered if Hannibal could hear it through the phone. “Is she aware of the nature of our relationship before you presented?”, Hannibal asked him, patiently, fingers right on the sore spot. Will closed his eyes. Hannibal had always seen inside his skull, as if he had succeeded in actually opening him up, that time in Italy.

“She knows I was your patient,” The Omega said evasively, halting his free hand as it started to wander down his ribs and hastily bringing it back up to rest against his shoulder. “You never were my patient, Will,” Hannibal hummed into his ear, his voice warm with affection yet tauntingly sharp. Will's ears warmed hot at the sultry tone, just as irritation flared up in his belly. He had not been hiding anything from her. He and Hannibal, their relationship might have been strangely intimate, deep, intrusive, but they had not been lovers. It had not been an affair.

“She knows about the time you experimented on my brain as I was suffering from encephalitis. The time you framed me for your murders, and the time you slid open my belly and left me for dead on your kitchen floor.” he bit viciously against the plastic of the horn. “And let's not forget the time you tried to crack open my skull with a bone saw.” His hands started to tremble at the incomprehension and grief that washed down his body as he spoke the words and saw the visions. He remembered those time between them all so well, and it never ceased to make him double over in pure anguish and sickening mania.

Will focused on the other end of the line as he swam inside himself, lost in the turmoil of emotions. Hannibal was there, and his breathing sounded warm and solid against his ear. “We betrayed each other, Will. You and me both,” he spoke, his voice echoing back a fraction of the agony that Will felt dripping from his brain down his throat, poisoning him. The Omega smiled into the darkness, and it hurt.

“Betrayal, attempted murder... we bring it out in each other so naturally,” he breathed, shoulders twitching at his own words. It was the truth. That realization was why he had sent Hannibal away those years ago, and why he had to walk from him now. The Omega in the attic thrashed against the walls of his mind, making it rain a cloud of whirling sawdust behind his eyes. Hannibal didn't speak for the moment, and neither did Will. Each listened to the other breathing, heard his presence there, and it made everything that little bit easier, and that little bit more maddening.

“I must admit, my actions regarding you around that time were not always as well-considered as I thought them to be,” Will heard his Alpha's voice through the silence, his words chosen carefully. “I was partly steered by a very unguided, very determined Alpha in me, dug out and brought forth by your presence,” he spoke almost melancholically, the moment one of rare self-reflection for the Alpha and Will sucked his bottom lip sharply through his teeth. “I hadn't presented back then...,” he replied defensively, and Hannibal hummed almost lasciviously into his ear. “But my Alpha recognized you right away. Long before even I did,” he replied, a low vibration in his throat that made the Omega's skin rise and tighten with goosebumps. “It made me push the boundaries with you, probing for the animal I suspected was dormant inside.”

Will lowered the horn to his cheek, closing his eyes as he lay breathing in the dark. Even then, they had recognized, subconsciously, what was hidden in the other. He couldn't deny it, not when he remembered it so well. He could see them clearly behind his eyes, talking in Hannibal's office or sitting at the dinner table, watching each other as they ate. Hannibal had watched him with a fire in his eyes that Will had felt as though it penetrated his skin. There had been a beast inside the monster inside the man. One that woke around the beast inside of him. Even then.

It took Will several seconds before he brought the receiver back to his lips. “You...,” he stuttered against the plastic and Hannibal breathed hard against the phone, pushing air through his nostrils. Will could almost feel the hot stream of air, as he had many times against his throat. “I saw the struggling, beautiful, caged beast inside you and it brought out the struggling, deprived beast inside me,” Hannibal said, with the melody of a poem. “We were both made for the other, but unable to fit we turned vicious.” The words curled around the Alpha's teeth in a hiss. “Starving in an ocean of bread makes an animal of the most civilized human being.”

Will pressed a hand to his eyes and felt his shoulders shaking before he laughed, loud, a fine line to sobbing. “You weren't human... I was,” he croaked as his muscles bent, pulled and shuddered on the mattress, a reflection of the wild waves inside his head. Hannibal's tone was cool silk to the raw skin around his shuddering, breakable bones. “Yet we battled and betrayed and loved each other like savages. That is what we are, Will,” Hannibal spoke, his words a caress that made Will rub his own cheek against his shoulder in search for a warm touch.

“You wanted to kill me,” Will whispered, a grimace flashing over his features as he ripped off the band-aid on an old, festering wound within his heart. A low growl rolled over the phone from the other end. “I wanted to bond with you,” Hannibal hissed and Will knew he had bared his teeth. “My Alpha was in a state of furious pandemonium, finding the perfect mate, unable to have or to attain. Which I did not fully understand until much later.” The words were bulbous with regret. Old sores were relived by both, breathing hard, fast, heartbeats elevated. Will writhed against the sheets, his skin in search for heat and touch and alleviation from the pain. His and Hannibal's.

“You and I were both disconnected from our true nature,” Hannibal said and Will rubbed his cheek against the receiver, unconsciously following the Alpha's voice. “And just when I came to realize this, you sent me away.” Will's eyes opened. The sentence, spoken kindly, felt like frostbite against his ear. Betrayal. Hannibal felt betrayed. It hurt the Alpha, like the knife in Will's gut. Will couldn't detect it in his mate's voice, but he felt a strain inside his own belly, and knew the pain was Hannibal's. The Omega hissed a silent stream of air into his lungs, and bit hard on the inside of his cheek. He remembered Hannibal sitting by his bed, in his chair, disheveled and smelling like his own, burned flesh. His face damaged with wounds that still imprinted his skin with scars.

“And now you live your life,” Hannibal said, his voice honey, but lingering like the sting of a bee. “With that ready-made family you have adopted as your decor.” Will swallowed as he listened to the voice, filling him to the brim. “Wife, child, a job. Normality. A play you orchestrated for yourself, giving you what you never had, even if you never desired it in the first place.” Will's breath trembled in his tight throat. The sting that was dealt to him was not meant to be cruel, nor demeaning, but Hannibal was determined to drive it through to him until it emerged at the other end. And it hurt. Will wanted to let go, in that moment. He wanted to hang up the phone, pack his bags and go. He wasn't sure where he would end up, would he walk out the door of his motel room, but he knew couldn't bare any more of the pain, the crushing brick behind his Alpha's words.

“Hannibal,” he whispered into the horn, pressing his whole self as close as he could to the device. “Stop.” It was a plea that escaped him wholeheartedly, before he could reconsider. “Stop putting your thoughts in my head.” His lips brushed against the receiver, open, moist, soft and searching, and the slight quiver in the drawn breath on the other end made him wonder if Hannibal felt it, as if spoken against his own lips. His breathing was fast, his chest shone with sweat and his fingers trembled as they stroked against the horn. “I sent you away because all we had left to give each other was pain.” Tears danced along the rim of his eyes, clinging to the edge. “I needed it to stop. I needed something else,” he quivered, weakness and desperation open in his words.

“And your Omega has found it for you,” Hannibal rumbled against his ear and Will clenched his jaw tight, pushing back the raw pain that clawed up his throat. “No. Stop,” he demanded again. “Don't tell me...” Will's voice faltered as he swallowed around a lump. “I want to be certain, for once, about what thoughts are mine,” he said, brokenly nuzzling along the plastic. “I need to know what needs and wishes and ideas come from my own mind.” His naked body slid against the thin sheets as he moved his legs, his thighs meeting. “All my life I have been walking the fine line between my own head and those of murderers, hunters... Cannibals. Blending and bleeding and seeping into my mind until I could no longer keep out the pieces that had sunken into me.”

He was whispering still, his eyes closed and his lashes wet, his plump lips touching the phone, Hannibal breathing into his ear. “And now?”, the Alpha asked him, voice husk and Will's body arched with the tingle that it danced down his spine. “Now what?”, he replied, strained and out of breath.
“Those pieces, are they still there?”, the voice asked. Will paused. Suddenly, silence pressed heavy on his ears, feeling close to painful, and his eyes widened. If his own mind stopped pumping around the endless flashes of color and sound for one brief second, there was nothing but the low rumble of his Omega in the attic.

He couldn't remember the day he had been without them, the voices he had allowed to crawl into his head, disturbing him with images, thoughts, degradation that became his own. The people that had inhabited him as he tried to understand their crimes. But truthfully, no, he hadn't heard them, not since those days in heat. The moment his heat died down, an overflow of thoughts and emotions had returned and spilled inside from an open faucet, but other presences, other voices, they hadn't returned. “No,” he said, dazed by the realization. “It's me and the Omega.” Will remained motionless as Hannibal chuckled into his ear, tired but warm. “The beast in you has chased away the barnacles,” he spoke, and Will felt his Omega stomping around inside him with heavy paws, huffing hot from the nose. “Never a better opportunity to discover what it is you both want.”

Will smiled weakly around parted lips, his nose clogged from the tears that seemed almost ready now to burst forward. “I know what my Omega wants,” he spoke, a crack in his voice, “but I want to understand what Will Graham wants. The man. Not the beast. No one else.” He blinked, his nails running blunt against the horn. “I need to know what kind of man is left of me.” His words trembled harder as his sentence flowed wilder and his fingers curled harder around the horn, as if to try and touch what was on the line. “And when you do, you will be astounded at what you find,” Hannibal breathed and it opened up every shriveled vein beneath Will's skin. “You are not a just a man.” Will could hear the smile in his voice. “You are not a normal man, Will.”

Will's eyes shut tight as he bit his lip and lowered his head until his chin touched his chest, allowing Hannibal's words to flow through him like waves of wild water, coming from within himself. “That beast you think you merely host inside of you, is very much a part of that man you are searching for. Allow yourself to collide with him and you will find yourself whole. The true Will Graham.” The Alpha purred intimately against his skin, and Will felt the rumble within his own chest. “He is most magnificent.”

**

Will stared at the yellow ceiling for hours after he had hung up, touching on every bit of their conversation and repeating it inside his head over and over and over, as the ache in him returned harder, harder than before. He finally got up when the sun was already high, peeking over the rail of his drawn curtains and hoisted himself into the same clothes he had worn yesterday, still wrinkled and damp on the floor beside his bed. When he picked up his mobile phone, it alerted him of a text message from Molly, a missed call from Alana and another text message, also from Alana. He didn't open them. He shoved the device in his pocket, reached for his coat and walked out the door instead.

The wind made the air feel cold, but his brown coat was warm enough to protect his skin from any chills. He bought himself a late breakfast, or an early lunch, when he passed a bakery. The coffee was stale and the croissants were greasy, but it was heaven compared to any of the food he was given in prison. He did not sit down to eat, however, but continued walking in a hurried pace, eyes unobservant of his surroundings. He had no plan, nowhere to go, but he needed the fresh air and a place that didn't hold the memory of Hannibal. Not the man, nor his voice.

He crossed a street, passed a park, took a turn left and wandered to the right, moving and moving with his eyes to his feet and his hands in his pocket. Away from everything, just for a moment. It could have been hours of walking in circles, right and left or even a firm u-turn when his feet got tired and his head had stopped screeching like a flock of seagulls. He lowered himself onto an empty park bench and after a deep breath, pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped through the screens. Molly wanted to know how he was feeling, and hoped to speak to him today. He would have to give her a call later, discuss nothing new. Tonight, maybe. Alana asked him how he was doing, urged him to come by for a medical examination and invited him over for dinner at her house in the same breath. Will huffed out loud at the the idea. There was only one answer to all three questions, and it was no. He wasn't going to go back to the prison, so near the source of the ache that filled him, and he wasn't going to play the polite dinner guest to be dissected by the woman that viewed him as incompetent. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

He tucked away his phone and he finally looked up at his surroundings. Green. He saw the trees, the grass, a handful of people on their way, and something more. His skin tightened under his coat and he cursed inwardly at the view he had chosen for himself. Above the swaying treetops peeked the roof of Baltimore State Hospital. “Fuck,” he snorted pitifully and shook his head at the sight. Of all places he could have wandered, he ended up here.

“You're Will Graham,” a soft voice suddenly spoke from behind him and Will's head shot up, twisting his body to see who had recognized him. Behind the bench stood a man with short, dark hair and a pale face. His eyes were narrowed, evasive, and a distinctive scar ran from his left lip to his left nostril. The man eyed him, sharp and intrusively as he seemed to suck in every detail of Will's face. “Can I help you?”, Will asked him, leaned backwards at the uneasiness that crept over him under the stare of the odd man. “You are Will Graham,” he repeated and Will quickly got up from the bench, turning himself to face the stranger.

“I am,” he said, a frown deep on his forehead as the eyes that Will could now identify as blue flickered briefly to the prison behind Will's back. “You were in there,” the man said. “With him.” Will felt himself grown cold under the vicious blue eyes and blinked rapidly as he bit down on his teeth. Him, he'd said. You were in there with him. “How do you know?”, he quickly fired, sweat simmering on his back beneath his shirt. Was this public knowledge? Had it been published already? His mind zoomed around Freddy Lounds for a brief second. The man stood unmoving, apart from the nervous twitch around his right eye. “You left,” he said, ignoring Will's question, his voice breakable but his eyes shooting short bursts of ice-cold fury.

Will crossed his arms over his chest, an unpleasant sensation crawling up his legs, and shoulders as he watched the stuttering stranger. “Who are you?”, he asked, his tone defiant as he squinted his eyes. The man froze, and Will felt cold when he looked him dead in the eye, seeing nothing but a face of stone. He watched the stranger's body tense at the question, before he started to arch his neck, twitching, as if working out a strain in his muscles. The man straightened himself, clenched his muscles and Will watched the ice in him die away by a sudden, furious fire. A transformation that left Will frozen to the spot as the man stepped closer, separating them only by the bench as he leaned forward, close to Will's ear. The voice that came out of his mouth was low, raspy, different and Will's eyes widened as he felt a scrap of teeth against his ear shell. “I am the great red Dragon.”

It was a whisper, almost, but it was chilling like ice down the back of his neck, and Will jumped backwards from the touch and the sound. As quickly as it happened, so quickly the stranger stepped back, eyes shifting nervously before he pulled up his hood and moved away, walking quickly, fluently, until he disappeared from sight. Will watched him go, eyes on the black hood, and knew the stranger was not just a madman. Will was an empath, still, and the tingling of his ear-shell made him shudder with the knowledge that the stranger had little human left in him.

But he was gone, now, and the pain that coiled in Will's body was still enough to make him weep, so the odd stranger was pushed from his mind, defeated by the Omega that howled and clawed at him for his Alpha. He had seen many disturbed people in his life. He had helped them, understood them, caught them and killed them, but for once, he did not have the time to focus on anyone but himself. He started walking, away from the hospital. Away from that place. Determined, with his back towards the building, he walked, and again, every step was like one through streaming water. But he balled his hands inside his pockets, and kept on moving. He might have a beast in him, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and tame it into submission.

Chapter Text

“Did you get any sleep last night?”, Molly asked, voice crackling with the bad reception that seemed to swarm around the motel like a cloud of insects. Will had been standing in front of the mirror on the wall above the dresser, when the buzzing of his phone had torn him away from his own, sunken eyes. “Not much,” he said, remembering the dream, and then the phone call. He twitched his lips, disgruntled when the tips of his ears heated with the memory of Hannibal's husky voice against his ear, so clear in his mind it was like pressing play on a recorder. He could tell her about it, that phone call, the dream. Will pushed back his cuticles with blunt fingernails. There was no need for secrecy, was there?

But none of the words would stick to his tongue and form into a proper sentence. He said nothing.

“Neither did I,” Molly breathed, and Will could hear the distant clanging of dishes in the background. “I kept thinking about what you must have been through these past days, and how lonely you must have felt.” Will's eyes met his own again in the mirror. The skin around his sockets was a grayish purple and the sharp contrast between his dark scruff and his pale skin made him look ill. He stepped closer to his own image and watched the whites of his eyes shimmer pink with broken blood vessels, caused by sleep and pain and the constant pounding of thoughts and memories against the walls of his skull. Molly sighed pitifully when he remained silent. “I know this whole situation is purely biological and there's no one to blame for it, but...,” she hesitated. Will could see the hint of a bruise peeping out from beneath the collar of his shirt. There were many more of those, all neatly covered up beneath the fabric of his clothes. “I hate that this happened to you,” Molly said, her pain for him almost tangible as she sniffled against the horn, and Will quickly pulled the collar higher around his neck.

“Molly,” he said, trying to keep his voice light as his eyes shifted shamefully from his own gaze, squinting critically at him from behind the glass. “Please don't worry about me.” He tried to sound assuring, soothing, as he wiped a damp palm on his jeans. There was a tremor in his voice he hoped she wouldn't detect. “It was... I barely remember any of it.”And that was a lie. His first true, proper lie. Before, it had always been bent truths, the twist of a detail, or just unspoken information. This was not that. He had lied to his wife.

His eyes shot back to himself and he watched his cheeks flush a deep crimson red, before he quickly turned away. Molly sighed at the other end, and he could feel the tension she released at his confession, as it crept right into his own shoulders. “Oh God.” She moaned against the horn. “That is..wow, really?”, and what was he to tell her? She was his wife, his home, his future. Could he say he had spent days and night in a frenzy of sex and sleep and touches, whispers, soft and wild kisses, fingers in hair and moans against ears? And should he tell her it was undeniable that it had made every fiber of Will Graham, the Omega and the man, tremble with a wild, untameable ecstasy?

Will rubbed a miserable hand over his eyes. There had always been missing pieces in their relationship regarding Hannibal, and he wouldn't change that now. He couldn't. Accountable for his actions or not, never would he want to answer a question about the two of them. What it had been like, how it had felt for him, what they had done. It was better like this, for the both of them. “I was in a complete haze throughout my heat,” he said instead, twisting a button on his shirt between his fingers. Not a whole lie, half-truths. Again, Molly sighed, a hum in her sweet throat. “That is such a relief.”

He sat himself down on the bed, feeling his skin growing cold from the perspiration drying under his clothes. “I was about to order pizza,” he murmured, unsure of how to continue and wishing to steer their conversation to easier waters. He had asked her about the dogs, he had asked about Wally, even his mother-in-law had made an appearance in the conversation, and he was proud to have remembered this time. He had remembered to show that he cared. “Must be nice to eat something besides prison food,” Molly said and Will's mind quickly rattled through the memories. The sandwiches, the conversation about the cook, the soup, the way the table shook when... “Yeah. You could say that,” he answered, pressing his eyes shut tight as he lowered himself backwards on the mattress, trying to free his head of the image of his naked back against the rocking table-top.

“Oh, your doctor called me today.” Molly shattered the heated mist behind his eyes and it quickly drifted away, lingering just outside the frame of his mind. Will frowned over his squinting eyes. “My doctor?”, he asked, confused. “Yes, Dr. Hammings? He's from the prison,” Molly explained and Will's eyes widened before he curled a lip over his teeth. Slimy bastard. He hadn't gotten what he wanted, an all access pass to Will's ins and outs, and now he had gone behind his back to get it. Desperate to claim his prized guinea pigs for his own, Will suspected. “Yeah, yeah, I know him,” he said, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. He did not want to go back there, to that building. He feared what it would do to him, and what it would make him do. “He told me you are refusing medical checkups and he is worried about you,” Molly spoke and Will clenched his teeth, swallowing down the irritation he felt boiling up his throat as his wife continued. “If they can't monitor your health and you get sick, going home could become much more complicated.”

His nostrils twitched. It was all nonsense, these checkups. That information would only be used as page-fillers for a best-seller Dr. Hammings was undoubtedly working on. Will didn't want any more tests, or any more questions. He wanted back the control over his body and his brain, and he surely understood himself better than any prying medical man ever could. He was fine. It hurt, yes, but he was fine. “Molly, this guy is not worried, he just.,” he tried and huffed silently when his wife wasn't hearing him. “Well, I'm worried,” she interjected. “I need you home, Will, but more than that I need you healthy.” Her voice had that edge to it, concern, a tinge of panic. “I am healthy. Molly, I'm fine,” he tried, but her sharp sigh made his shoulder twitch with the defeat he knew was inevitable. “Will,” she said sternly.

“Yes, alright. I'll stop by tomorrow,” he replied, rolling on his side and he heard the warmth seeping back into her voice as she breathed against the phone. “Thank you.”

**

Pepperoni. It was his favorite kind of pizza. Will flipped through the channels of the small TV on the dresser as he ate a slice out of the cardboard box and sipped beer from a six-pack of cans he had picked up at a local deli. He briefly wondered, as he bit into the crunchy dough, if Hannibal had ever tasted a greasy, take-out pizza, and if so, if he had enjoyed it as much as Will was doing now. He huffed into his can, his fourth and almost empty, as he tried to picture his impeccably dressed Alpha biting into a slice. Those lips shining with grease and a string of cheese hanging from his luscious mouth. He chuckled when the ridiculous image was followed by Hannibal's perfect dining-table, decorated with the flowers and the skulls, the wine. He pictured the plates made up perfectly, warm fig and goat cheese salad, an expertly cut quarter of pomegranate and three drips of a sauce as bright and red as fresh flowing blood. And in the middle, a slice of cheesy, dripping, take-out pepperoni pizza. Will snorted so loud, beer seeped back over his lips.

The room gradually grew darker as time ticked away, but the television didn't hold his attention for long and his mind drifted easily from his motel room to the glass prison cell, to his house in the snow, to the dark forest with the beast from his dream. And back, always back, to that glass prison cell. It wasn't before long that Will pushed the carton box to the side and fished his laptop from inside his suitcase, setting it up and plugging it in. While shredding the remains of his food between his teeth, he visited the old and loyal search machine and typed 'Male Omega.' into the bar. Part of his mind had advised him against this, afraid of what he would find, and what it would bring. The lines between fact and fiction were blurry in the outside world, and who could say what...? - Click. But he had already decided. If he was going to survive this, endure it, he needed to know anything, everything, whatever he could get. Will reached for another can of beer and cracked it open with a fingernail.

'The first known sighting of a male Omega dates back to 1726, when a young man named Paul Williamson presented Omega for an Alpha male named Bollard Hunter. Such an unusual occurrence was considered an act of unholiness and both men were burned alive during the consummation of their bonding', was the first article he found.

“Typical,” Will huffed through his nose, a brief shudder rising beneath his skin. It was the male thing, of course, that made it devilish. Gay. He ran a hand over his scruff as his eyes scanned the bright page. He wasn't...he didn't consider himself a homosexual. Not really. He had enjoyed being with women, and he had never before felt a serious attraction towards another man, until... Well, he was a male Omega now, with a very male Alpha mate. He wasn't sure what that made him to the world. Or to himself.

The male Omega is an extremely rare occurrence. Only less than 700 cases have been recorded throughout the course of history, dating back to the earlier 1700. The reported cases of the female Omega, however, run up to 1.2 million over the same time period.

It was rare. They had told him this many times, of course, but the numbers on his screen made it that much more real. 700 cases, 700 male Omega's, in 300 years. That meant only two men presented within a year, worldwide amongst billions and billions of people. Will huffed around his pizza crust and shifted his shoulders. Of course, he was that guy. One with a Per mutua nexis mate that was a cannibal and serial killer to boot. No wonder Dr. Hammings was so eager to wriggle fingers around in his brain. The good man had smelled opportunity on Will; he was a creature for the history books, against all odds, beyond any odds whatsoever.

In 1988 it was discovered that the male Omega possesses the Omega gene in their DNA (usually only carried by women), but whereas 2% of the male population possess that gene in their DNA, only one in every 475,000 presents Omega. The cause of this remains uncertain, though it has been suggested that a male Omega would solely present for an Alpha with high biological compatibility, and only upon meeting him under the right circumstances, both mentally and physically. Whereas the female Omega presents upon reaching sexual prime and attracts possible mates through the secretion of her pheromones. This could account for the relatively more frequent occurrence of Per mutua nexis pairings in male-male Alpha's and Omega's (3.4%) compared to male-female (0.3%).

Will dumped his leftover crusts in the otherwise empty pizza box. Twenty to twenty-five Per mutua nexis pairings in 300 years. That screamed something. Extraordinary. He swallowed away the memory of the howling, thrashing beast inside him at the sight of his Alpha, and perfectly recalled the hopeless longing, that desperate need, the wild, shredding desire. Not to mention the way they effortlessly flowed together in conversation, found hidden meaning in each other's words and expressions and how their flesh communicated, burned and moved as one.

He danced his fingers over the keys. There were many more websites, articles, confirming his uniqueness, in his kind and in his connection to his mate. It made his chest feel tight, like he was already trapped in a glass cage, captured and labeled an endangered species. Now more than ever, he had to keep to himself, Will realized. No doctors, no specialists, no writers, no journalists. He would go to the hospital and get that medical checkup, for Molly. Once. No more. He wasn't going to be used, experimented on or hunted down, like...

He got lost in his train of thoughts when he clicked on a link and was directed to a pink website, decorated with twinkling stars and Hello Kitty. There was an image of two people, holding each other passionately like on the cover of a cheap romance novel. The blue of his eyes was seeped through with red and his fangs showed from behind curled lips. Her pale skin was heated with passion that shone in her bloody, green eyes and the wave of her wild, auburn hair. It was the captured love, between Alpha and Omega. Will sighed, staring blank and bored at the pairing. He had almost finished his fifth beer, yes, but there was no way he would picture himself and Hannibal in such a pose.

One could easily say the 'Per Mutua Nexis' (Intertwined) Alpha and Omega pairing is one for the fairytales. Old folktale suggests that this couple came into this world as one, a single child, until it was cruelly punished, for it angered the Gods with its many talents, strength, beauty and the gift of a long and healthy life. As punishment, the human was ripped in two, living as separate entities that could very rarely find their way back to the other, suffering for eternity. Of course, now we know that the Per Mutua Nexis couple is actually based on the biological, mental and physical compatibility of both parties, but it doesn't make it any less magical that bonded, these two share body, mind and lifespan as one being. Now that is romance.

Will pushed the screen down, shutting his laptop with quick hands and a loud click of the device as he rolled himself from the chair onto his bed. Romance. That is romance. He laughed with his whole body, loud huffs of air into the silence. The ceiling above him laughed along, moving up and down before it started to swirl lightly around the lamp. Too much to drink, Will thought. It had been a while, after all. Outside, light was rapidly fading and the room swam in gray distortion that always seemed to come in the half-lit darkness. Romance. Per mutua nexis was a fairytale, something to dream about as a teenage girl, obsessing over her favorite pop star. For that girl, it wasn't being forcefully chained to another person, never being able to walk away or control your own actions and desires. Romance. Will laughed out loud again at the sudden vision of Hannibal in his cell, dressed in a suit, holding roses, lit candles on the prison table and a string quartet playing in the corner. Will held his stomach as a tear slipped from between his lids. Romance.

There was no dignity in any of it. It was a biological, raw, messy process of skin and blood and untamed animals going at each other. It was all heat and need and want that ran so deep it turned you disgustingly feral. No fairytale and definitely no romance. God no, it had been rough and vicious, teeth and lips hard and sharp and nails in skin and such a wild collide of... Will's lips pressed together, his hands clenched beside him on the mattress. He was also not, not, not, not at all turned on.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling the heat pool around his groin, bleeding in with the venomous pain that seemed to inhabit his body permanently now. It had been all this thinking about wild mating, heat and skin and...

He jumped up in bed, his whole body tense as a loud ringing broke the heavy silence in the room. His head whipped back at the motel phone on his nightstand, the little light on the front flashing red as its sharp noise scratched through the room. “What the...,” Will looked at the old fashioned device, feeling every ring like a fist between the eyes as the red light illuminated the dark room with every flashing blink. Who was calling him, here, close to midnight? The ringing didn't stop, and Will breathed deeply before pushing himself onto his knees on the bed before he shuffled to his nightstand, reaching clumsily around a half-filled water bottle to get to the horn.

“Hello?”, he spoke quietly when the plastic touched his ear, and the voice that rang through made the wringing tension seep from his muscles like morphine in his bloodstream. “Goodnight, Will,” Hannibal spoke from the line and a giggle escaped the Omega, his body weak with relief and shock and alcohol. A smile remained on Will's lips, feeling the sweet tingle of pleasure dancing on the surface of his agony. “How are you calling me?”, he exclaimed rather loudly, twisting his body to lean himself against his pillow. As far as Will knew, Hannibal would not just get excess to a phone whenever he pleased, nor did he have Will's number. Hannibal inhaled, the sound alone a caress to his ear-shell. “You have been drinking,” he said, his voice too tight for it to be a casual observation only. “Yes,” Will agreed non-committally. “Now you answer me.” Will could hear fingernails sliding across the horn and he shivered when he pictured the Alpha smug expression on the other end. “I can be very resourceful when I wish to be,” Hannibal answered mirthfully and Will huffed into the horn. “I remember,” he confirmed and Hannibal hummed into his ear, pleasure evident in the deep rumble of his voice.

“So, you are calling me to wish me goodnight?”, Will asked, a hint of teasing around the question that carried the absurd notion of Hannibal treating him like a high school crush. His Alpha, however, was not at all disturbed by his Omega's woozy provoking. “I am calling to see how you are feeling, Will,” he replied, direct but gentle, honest affection in his tone. Will swallowed and eyed the last can of beer on the dresser. How was he to know his feelings anymore when his head felt like a barrel full of marbles, each one a different screeching and howling burst of sensation within him. “Right now, I feel horny,” he said matter-of-factually, uninhibited, shameless. Out of all the marbles, the lingering heat in his groin had been easiest to identify.

“Well...,” Hannibal said after a pause, his voice carrying a lot of air, a heated hum. Will closed his eyes at the vibration he felt within his body and ran a finger along the buttons of his shirt. He could picture Hannibal so clearly, standing near the door with the phone in his hand, a camera capturing the pink glow of his ears, his closed eyes, his wandering hand as it slid inside his cotton suit... Fuck! “This is not an invitation to phone sex. I'm just stating a fact,” he quickly blurted as his eyes snapped open, pressing his legs together in his jeans as he removed his hand from his torso. His body was now starting to leak slick around his opening as his cock had started to fill inside his jeans. No. He wasn't in heat. He wasn't in heat. There was no excuse for any of this.

“Not to worry, Will,” Hannibal said after a moment of silence where Will could not detect a single breath from the Alpha. “When your body has gotten used to more sex, it will ask for more sex. As is the rule for many things in life.” Will shuddered at those words spoken into his ear by his Alpha's husk voice. It was not at all helping his predicament, and he wondered if Hannibal knew it, too. Sex. They had been everywhere, every way in that cell and he recalled every single time like a movie he could replay with one press of a button. He ran a hand over his forehead and pressed it down his face. “The amount of sex we have had in only three days...,” he mumbled, trying very hard not to envision them on, or even off that mattress, writhing, moaning, rocking. Fuck.

“Does it remind you of your teenage years?”, Hannibal asked him, his voice clean, but Will could tell he was prying. “God, no. I was never like that,” he replied honestly and heard a huff of air from his mate. “Physical contact and intimacy made you uneasy,” Hannibal spoke and Will closed his eyes. He remembered the giggling girls, parties, couples making out between classes... nothing about it had appealed to him.

“No relationships?”, Hannibal pressed, and Will smiled at the well-hidden desire of a need to know, everything. “A handful of one night stands, a few brief girlfriends. And Molly,” he said, eyes on the ceiling. Sex had always been something that just happened, because he let it. He didn't chase it, he didn't seduce or romance, but if a woman wanted him, it would be fine. Normal. When it happened, it had been nice, but eventually the touching, the kissing, the intimacy, the sharing and talking and trying to make room for yourself in someone else's life, never felt comfortable, like an ill-fitting shape around him. Then he'd met Molly,....

“No men?”, Hannibal burst through his brain and while the Alpha's voice was smooth and steady, Will felt a heat creeping up his neck. “No,” he admitted timidly. “That hadn't happened before.” He watched his fingernails as he willed away the blood that pumped up to color his face. He had noticed some of his classmates in his late teens. But just as with the girls, the idea of touching, sharing, being vulnerable around someone else, it hadn't appealed. Until Hannibal. In hindsight, the attraction had started on a psychological level, from the moment Hannibal had walked into his room with his home-made breakfast of human meat. But before he had even considered his own feelings, everything had fallen horribly, gruesomely apart.

Will cleared his throat and plucked dirt from under his thumbnail. “You must have had many conquests,” he spoke into the horn, picturing Hannibal waltzing with many beautiful women, cooking for numerous men, seducing them with charm and skill and satin sheets. Completely at ease within his own skin, beautiful people simply dropped at his feet. Will flinched at the thought, finding the image distasteful. The idea of regular people having sex with an Alpha made the Omega inside him shudder violently. “I take pleasure in many things,” Hannibal's voice ran smoothly, “but I found myself gradually growing tiresome of the rituals that come with seduction.”

Will licked his lips absently as the words pulled at something pleasant within him. He had not seen Hannibal with many partners before he turned himself in. Just one. “You seduced Alana,” he said, and Hannibal's voice rumbled in a chuckle through the line. “Perhaps she seduced me,” he teased and Will pressed his lips together.“She was convenient,” he protested. “You saw a way to make use of her.” Will knew she had been an alibi, a source of information, an object of manipulation. “I have always been fond of Alana,” Hannibal said, and Will quickly lowered the lip that tried to curl over his teeth. “But our affair was certainly not based on attraction alone.”

Maybe it was the beer, but Will laughed out loud at the coy tone of his mate. “Romance was never more than a game for you, was it?”, he said. “A power play, theater, a way to reel them in,” and he believed his words, because he understood. He knew what it felt like not to fit with anyone. When he found Molly, well... “As much as it was a chore to you,” Hannibal said. “Something normal people do. But it was never more than that, until you met me.”

Will wanted to scoff at the arrogance, laugh at the assumptions. But instead, he sagged against his pillow and felt his body draining dry of willpower. Of course it was true.

“Come back to me, Will,”

But it didn't change anything.

Chapter Text

He didn't have to do it. He could still choose not to go. He could just turn around, walk the way he came and pretend never to have been here at all. Molly would be upset, sure, but he could explain this to her. He could tell her... well, he could tell her the truth. He could tell her he didn't trust himself in the hands of any medical man or woman, having been confronted with his true value as a Per mutua nexis male Omega. A biological wonder. That was the truth, even if not the whole of it.

He wouldn't tell Molly that it hurt, physically hurt, to even stand before the Victorian building, with no more than the road separating him from the shell that housed the source of his suffering. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of exhaust fumes, spat out by the cars flashing back and forth before him. Everything within him was elevated, standing so his mate. It made it better, a polished glaze over the rough surface beneath, but simultaneously cranked up the volume of the unhappy murmur in his head to a manic scream. Beneath his skin, everything ached and yearned and struggled against the tight reins on his willpower, craving that honey to fill the howling emptiness.

He opened his eyes, ignoring the feverish flutter in his stomach that tilted towards nausea, and rolled his shoulders back. His shirt was already drenched under his coat, already making him look the part of the trembling, sweating, deprived Omega man. He ran a quick hand through his curls to flatten them against his head as he sighed out the deep breath he had been holding. He had to go in. Fuck, he had to. He had chosen this life, one as a man instead of an Omega, and now he had to be strong enough to live it. He had to. For Molly. He would just get the medical examination done, in and out, and walk away. He would not go and see him, even just to talk. No. The more distance between them, the better, because he knew just how prone he was to this temptation.

He crossed the street before he could reconsider and just when his shoe was about to hit the curb, someone nearly bumped against his shoulder. He turned to catch the back of a black, pulled-up hoodie he instantly recognized. It was the stranger. The Dragon guy. Will halted as the man threw him one quick look over his shoulder with a sharp gaze of frozen blue. Their eyes met, and he felt the ice seep into his flesh, before the man turned back and quickened his pace. Will couldn't help but wonder why the guy had been hanging around the hospital, again. Especially since he had proven himself to have some curiously private information about what was going on on the inside. The Omega blinked and turned ahead. If he saw him again he would stop him, he promised himself, but the thought faded from his mind the moment he placed his foot on the first step to the hospital's entrance.

Every step forward shook him, made his bones weak with sour pleasure, all but unbearable to his sensitive, raw nerves. And every step pulled at him, hard, cruel, like he had to walk on his heels not to be hauled through the door. Heat twitched alive in his belly with the promise of nearness and he was weak already with the pulsing pain and quivering pleasure, grinding in his joints and spreading through his muscles. He wished he hadn't come. He was so close to giving up, already, so close to letting himself be lured into the Devil's lair.

He walked carefully, taking steady breaths and fumbling with the zipper of his jacket as he continued his way in. He wasn't going to show them, anyone, how whipped he was by his Omega, how weakened by his Alpha's call. His footsteps were conscious, slow, attempting to appear self-assured as he passed security, underwent the visitors' inspection, and continued into the hall. No appointment. No questions. He wondered if his name had been added to a list of regular visitors, or maybe even patients. His suspicions were soon confirmed when a white coat and gray hair came scurrying down the staircase on his right.

“Mr. Graham, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you,” Dr. Hammings panted, his short legs carrying him closer as he reached to shake Will's clammy hand with one of his own. His old face was glowing with excitement and exercise, and Will knew he must have sprinted his old body out of his office when the phone call that notified him of Will's presence arrived. The gleam in those watery blue eyes made Will's stomach tight with unease and he quickly withdrew his hand from between the clutching fingers.

“I want that check-up. Fast,” he said, curt, emphasizing his reluctance in the hope to quell the doctor's enthusiasm and expectations of the visit. He wasn't going to be a prized horse, or someone's golden ticket to a Nobel prize. “Certainly,” the doctor hummed, taking Will by the elbow and leading him up the staircase from which he had just emerged. “But...” Will freed his arm from the old man's grip and held up a hand, allowing the doctor to lead the way. “Just a quick check-up and we're done,” he said between clenched teeth, pain swarming above the roof of his mouth as the Omega hooked claws into his brain, digging for a way out. “Yes, well...”, the doctor mumbled as they entered another hallway. Will recognized this floor and passed Dr. Hammings as he looked over his shoulder. “And don't ever call my wife again.”

He knew he sounded threatening, his teeth bared, his body tense, but he didn't care. He was angry, annoyed, he was in such bittersweet pain and... “Mister Graham, you must understand...”, the doctor spoke from behind him and Will stopped dead in his tracks, feeling the man nearly staggering into his back as he turned around. He wondered what he looked like when blue eyes widened and pale, papery skin drained of color. “No, you must understand. I want nothing else than to move on with my life,” he said, curling up his lips. “Away from all this.” His Omega was growling viciously inside his mind, but he suppressed the urge to join in. He was here, after all, to prove he was fine. Annoyed, but fine.

The doctor blinked, his forehead gleaming and his yellow teeth clenched tight. “Of course,” he answered, and Will was reminded of a petulant child that had yet to get his candy. They entered the office and Doctor Hammings quickly started rummaging for medical equipment. Will took an offered chair and slung his coat over the back, crossing his legs and tapping his fingers as Hammings opened drawers and cabinets and that big, brown bag he always carried around. There was a silence where Will waited, and tried to stop his mind from registering any of the shredding, heated ache below his belly.

The sliding door of the filing cabinet to his left was not properly closed, as if the doctor had forgotten to do so in his hurry to greet his patient. Through the crack, Will spotted rows and rows of what appeared to be discs, covered by black cases and labeled with codes that contained numbers and letters. 027-C351ZT-JEN, was one. 045-F448KH-KLE another. But it was 014-W235FQ-LEC that caught his attention. He stretched his neck to get a better view and...

“Let's get started.” Will's eyes shot back when Dr. Hammings dumped a variety of metal instruments on the desk and looked up at him. “You are drenched with perspiration,” he frowned, his eyes squinting as he walked around his desk to step closer and take in the Omega's soaked shirt clinging to his back. “Has this occurred often since you left the hospital?” Will wriggled under the scrutinizing gaze, but tried to muster a confident smile around the sour pull of his mouth. “I ran the way over here,” he lied, a careless wave of his hand to emphasize the ridiculously obviousness of the scenario. “I do a lot of jogging.”

Two wrinkled fingers pressed to his damp forehead, feeling the heat his blood radiated through his skin. “Maybe jogging is not the best choice for you in your current predicament,” the doctor spoke, his tone even, careful, as he pulled back his hand and caught Will's eye. “I would refrain from any form of exercise for the moment.” The words, the tone, the phrasing, they were all innocent, but Will blinked and pushed his lips together at the images that quickly flooded his mind. He fought hard, but his body was weak and his groin was hot and he couldn't help but remember the last of exercise he had indulged in, and how his thighs had burned the day after he had straddled Hannibal's hips, working himself hard up and down his Alpha's cock. “Fine,” he said, his eyes shifting endlessly as his nails dug into his upper legs.

Hammings took a seat on the edge of his desk while reaching for his notepad and Will noticed the doctor's confidence and eagerness quickly blooming back to life. “You look a little... peaky, for lack of a better word,” he said, watching Will over the top of his reading glasses as he scribbled something on the paper. “How are you feeling?” Will tried not to shift in his seat too often, or to glance repeatedly at the door. He also tried to keep his fingers still and his shoulders straight. “Fine. I'm fine,” he spoke a little hasty. The doctor narrowed his eyes. Pen scratching on paper. Will knew what he looked like, drenched in cold sweat, legs pressed together, face flushed and quivering hands. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken, his hair wild and his clothes wrinkled and crooked from all the tugging and wringing.

“Do you get enough sleep?”, Dr. Hammings asked him, eyes still on his pad. Of course he didn't sleep enough. He had nightly phone calls and nightmares and the mattress squeaked too loud under his weight. He was alone on that bed. Once, he had preferred it that way, but... “Sure, yes, I sleep fine,” he nodded, trying his best to appear meek as he internally urged himself not to start yawning obscenely during any point of the examination. The doctor pursed his lips and tilted his head, his eyes drinking in every deepened line and widened pore on the Omega's face. “No other symptoms? No pain, fatigue, nausea, headaches, emotional outbursts?”, he listed, counting them out on his fingers as he shook his head, confirming the negative he could see shining in Will's oblivious eyes. He played that part well.

“Nothing that stands out, no,” he shrugged and the doctor's face pulled tighter and tighter. Will felt the old man's fierce suspicion as Hammings stared him down hard enough to bare his brain by sheer willpower alone. “Mmm,” the doctor replied after a tense moment before he turned around on his desk to grab the silver stethoscope. “Well, that sure sounds more than a little extraordinary, Mister Graham,” he commented, supposedly offhanded, but Will could see the displeasure pulling around his lips. “Thank you,” the Omega responded in turn, keeping his face smooth, open, unaware of anything but his own self, doing extremely, extraordinary well.

**

After the dead-end conversation came the tests. Blood was drawn, instruments were pressed to his skin and he peed into a cup that went straight to the lab. Twenty minutes, it took for a man in a mint green lab coat to bring back the results. In those twenty minutes Will hid in the bathroom, and stayed there for as long as he could while trying to fix his hair in the mirror and blow-drying his shirt. He didn't know if he could maintain a smoothed out expression for much longer, when he unseeingly bore this overwhelming battle between dancer and warrior underneath his pulsing flesh, wanting and hating and bleeding as honey and acid alike dripped down the walls of his shell. Not an hour inside this building and he was already going mad. He would do anything not to have to sit in that office, across from the man who wanted to keep him on his high shelf with the rest of his gold prizes and framed achievements. In the bathroom, at least, he could grunt, gulp water and tremble as much as his heart desired.

He passed the mint green coat on his way back, just in time for the results he didn't want to hear. Dr. Hammings gave him a most unreadable look, undoubtedly due to the fact he had just excused himself to the bathroom for close to half and hour, after he had peed in a cup. He didn't comment on it, probably sensing the high tension Will brought back into the room with him. “The oxygen level in your bloodstream is a little low,” the doctor started, reading from the paper sheet in his hands before he looked back at Will. “Do you experience trouble breathing?”

That dream. He remembered his own clawing hands at his throat, tight and thick and hot. He had wheezed and coughed and gasped for hours, only to be cured by his Alpha's voice. “No,” he said, hesitantly, and Dr. Hammings' eyes widened inquisitively. “It has happened,” Will reluctantly admitted when he realized he had trapped himself with his indecision. “Once or twice at the most. I'm fine now,” he quickly added as he watched the doctor's eyes gleaming while he started to look for the brown, leather bag.

The stethoscope was pressed to his chest once more as he breathed and coughed, inhaled and exhaled on demand. His throat was examined with a small flashlight and a wooden stick. “Your lungs sound clean,” Dr. Hammings concluded, returning to his seat and folding away the instruments. “I don't see any signs of asthma. Have you ever...?”, he prattled, scribbling on his notepad as Will ground his teeth behind closed lips. “It's not asthma,” he snapped, interrupting. “Just a little bit of uneasiness.”

The doctor straightened in his seat, plucking the glasses from his nose as he turned his full attention to the Omega. “Panic?”, he said, almost delighted. “Are you experiencing panic attacks?” There was greed in there, probably a new idea for a chapter in his magnum opus, Omega and Alpha behavior throughout the ages or whatever he would call it. “No,” Will snapped, curt. “I'm just feeling anxious at the memory of being unwillingly placed in the position of a barren breeding cow.” The roll of his tongue around the words was caused by the growl that crept up his throat, and Will hoped the doctor wouldn't notice. The old man only smiled, ruefully and a little... disappointed? “That is understandable,” he sighed, his eyes soft in a way that seemed to offer...comfort? Will felt a brief pang of guilt over his behavior, “Yeah, I would think so,” he mumbled softly in reply, lowering his eyes to the hands in his lap.

Dr. Hammings reached for the paper sheet again and put his glasses back on his nose. “Your kidney function is also a little below average,” he said, his lips twitching with a hint of dissatisfaction. “Are you drinking enough, Mr. Graham?” Their eyes crossed and Will felt like a scolded child under the doctor's pointed eyes. He didn't drink enough. He didn't do anything enough. Everything was always too much or too little with him. “Probably not,” he offered and the doctor nodded. “Please make sure that you do. You have lost a lot of bodily fluids in the previous days.” Will's eyes widened and his ears tinged pink at the suggestion. There had been plenty of bodily fluids, on and in and over and dripping out. His thighs pressed together, his ass pressed harder on his seat. “You need to drink more water, or you will be in risk of dehydration,” the doctor warned him, undisturbed, and Will only nodded.

“Your body temperature is 103 degrees,” Dr. Hammings continued and Will pressed his tongue to his teeth. Shit. “I have a fever?”, he asked timidly, clenching his fingers against his jeans. “Hyperthermia,” the doctor corrected him. “It is quite normal for an Omega's temperature to remain somewhat raised a few days after coming out of heat.” Will almost sighed out his relief at the words as the doctor clicked his pen. “But it is a little above the average, and something for us to keep an eye on, certainly.”

The list continued. “Blood pressure, 130 over 90. Again, higher than I would like, but nothing to be immediately concerned about.”
Will blinked as the words crashed over him like waves of the ocean, full of knowledge that didn't mean the slightest thing to him.
“Heart-rate, 114 beats per minute.”
“Urine, Iron, Liver, B12...”
“A little high...”
“Slightly out of range...”
“A tad unusual...”
“A fraction more than I would like...”
Always ending with that same; “But nothing to be concerned about....”

“So, I passed the tests?”, Will asked flatly after the flood of numbers had passed through his unregistering mind. Dr. Hammings tilted his head sideways, a half-hearted gesture. “You are not in any immediate danger,” he admitted hesitantly. “But I would very much like to check if that remains the case. If your condition changes, even slightly, the consequences could be serious,” he said, hissing air between his teeth as he tapped his pen against the desk. He looked troubled, which Will related to his failed attempt to get full access to the Omega's brain, rather than he was actually concerned about Will's wellbeing. Clearly, the good doctor was trying to retain his grip on his trophy. The biggest danger Hammings surely saw was his fame and fortune slipping into nothingness if Will walked out of the door without a follow-up appointment.

“A visit with your Alpha would also be beneficial to your health, Mister Graham,” the doctor nudged, his lips forming carefully around the words as he started rubbing his glasses clean with the hem of his shirt. “I'm fine,” Will bit defeatedly between his teeth, the blood pumping loudly in his ears at the mention of his mate. “I will drink water, sleep plenty, no more jogging...”

“And I would like to see you again in two days,” Dr. Hammings interjected, placing his spectacles back over his ears. Of course he would. Will dug fingers into the seat on his chair, feeling the Omega wrecking through his brain, clawing at his skull with a most horrendous sound. It was a restless, miserable attempt for control and it made Will understand better and better that separated mates would sometimes suffer from brain damage. “No. I can't. I'm not coming back,” he said, chin sticking out in determination as he hid his trembling fingers under his thighs.

“Mister Graham,” the old man sighed, patience seeping out of his voice as he leaned forward on his elbows. Before he could start the lecture Will suspected to come next, however, a voice sounded from the doorway. “Doctor, we have a situation on the second floor, B27,” a blond nurse spoke from behind Will's shoulder and he turned to see her standing two steps into the room, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. Will could hear the doctor mumbling a string of profanities under his breath and his brain worked fast through the information. Second floor, that wasn't Hannibal, Will thought briefly, and he felt a warm drip of relief down his neck.

“I'm with a patient right now, Rosa,” the doctor said, strained and bothered as the young woman blinked rapidly and clutched her clipboard to her chest. “It's Burov, doctor,” she said meaningfully, a pointed look at her colleague as her clean, short nails tapped endlessly against the metal of her board. Dr. Hammings sighed hard and deep, his papery cheeks filling with blood as he stood up from his chair and walked past his desk. “Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Graham,” he said, as he passed Will's chair. The Omega could hear him swear again before he mumbled “I don't have time for this,” and followed Rosa into the hallway.

Just when they had been about to wrap things up. Will dropped his head back on his shoulders and grumbled at the spotless ceiling. He didn't want to sit here, waiting, as his Omega grew wilder with every passing minute. He was on fire, body and soul, and it was pain and desire mixed into a ball of absolute madness. He could just leave, now. He could get up and go. He didn't owe anyone anything, he decided. It wasn't very polite, much against his usual etiquette, but he was slowly scorched into a puddle of flesh and blood as he sat here, and that surely couldn't be good for his health.

But as he got up, his eyes drew back to the open cabinet and the coded discs. Will's eyes quickly flashed towards the empty hallway before he stepped closer and tapped the door with two fingers, sliding it an inch further to the left. Again, he flashed his eyes to the open, empty doorway before he squatted down before the rows and rows of labeled discs. 014-W235FQ-LEC, that was where he left off. It was followed by more numbers, ending with the same three letters. LEC. More LEC. Rows and rows of LEC. And then, he saw it. 056-C158DD-LECGRA. LECGRA. There were four discs with that code, one for each day he had been here, Will guessed. He stared at them, running fingers over the back as he contemplated what to do. He could guess what was on those discs, certainly. But did that mean he wanted to possess them?

He felt slick coating the inside of his boxers and shivered under his half-damp clothes. It was better to walk away, he knew. Exposure to this would only make him weak and vulnerable to... Footsteps approached in the hallway. Quick steps on old loafers. Will reached for the four cases and snatched them out of the cabin with one hand as the other closed the sliding door. Quickly, he moved back into his seat and shoved the square, slim cases into the inside pocket of his coat. A tight fit, but just enough.

“I apologize for the interruption, Mister Graham,” Dr. Hammings spoke as he closed the door behind him. His face was rather flushed and his breath short, Will noticed, and guessed that he himself looked very similar state at the moment. The doctor took his place behind the desk and folded his hands together. “Well...”, he started, but Will wrapped his hands around his coat. “Are we done here?”, he asked, a tad ruder then he would have liked. The doctor looked taken aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly as he leaned forward on the desk, a friendly gleam in his blue eyes. “I would very much like you to tell me how you have experienced these last few days without your mate,” he said, a kind smile around his mouth. Will sucked his cheeks between his teeth. It wasn't Dr. Hammings' fault, really, but he was not at all in the mood.

“Are you a psychiatrist?”, he asked rather bluntly and watched the doctor's eyes widening. Color crept up his neck as he laid the pen down on his desk. “Well, no...”, he said a little unsure and Will grabbed his coat and rose to his feet. “Then we are done,” he said definitively as he turned to the door. The memory would later make him flush with embarrassment to have behaved in such a way, but at the moment, he felt mangled by both beast and man within. It was too much, and he couldn't cope.

“Thank you for all your help,” he said as he reached for the handle, throwing one quick look over his shoulder as the doctor rose from his chair. “Yes,” he said, overwhelmed by the sudden departure.
“I wish you the best, Mr. Graham,” Dr. Hammings nodded. “And I hope to see you again soon, despite your determination to stay away.” Will pulled up his lips before he looked away and stepped into the deserted hallway.

His pace was fast, fast, fast as his eyes searched for familiarity. He was leaving, now. He took the stairs down to the hallway, knowing he was close to the exit already, and the thought felt like air to his lungs. He stepped off the last step, surrounded by the old walls of the prison entrance, and felt a heavy pull on himself, mind and body, so tight he was staggering. His head swept the way his body swayed like a nail to a magnet, and he watched the top of the staircase leading down. Down to the basement. He knew what pulled him. He knew who was there. He stopped walking and watched the stairs that lowered into the darkness and knew that if he would stop struggling, he would be led there like a man lost in a hurricane, wind in his back. He wanted to, he did. There was no reason to deny it to himself anymore. But it didn't mean...

“Will,” a familiar voice ripped through his distressed haze. “It is so good to see you here.”

Chapter Text

Will turned around to see Alana walking towards him, dressed in a white and black, checkered suit and high, maroon pumps. She came to stand before him, resting her hand on his lower arm. “How are you?”, she asked, her blue eyes wide and her smile weak; the expression reminded him of the way people approached his dad in the months after his mother had left. He covered her fingers with his own in a gentle squeeze before guiding her touch away from his cotton covered skin. “Fine, yeah,” he said hastily, trying to appear upbeat. “I just had my medical examination and I'm fine.” He knew she could probably see the sickly gleam of sweat on his skin in the well-lit hallway, but he tried to smile his teeth bare in the hope she would let him leave without any further inquiries.

Alana sighed in exaggerated relief, a flat hand pressed to her cleavage. “I am so glad to hear it,” she said. “I've been very worried about you since you... stormed out of my office.” Will swallowed when he felt her eyes picking at him, her disapproval almost tangible behind the memory. Again, her hand found his upper arm. “I didn't storm...”, Will flinched, feeling the pressure of her fingers burn through the fabric of his shirt. She must have felt the twitch of muscles there, as she brought her hand back to her shoulder.

“I sent you an invitation to discuss how we can best arrange your situation in the future,” she said, and Will remembered her missed calls, the texts he had left unanswered, and bit his lip at the swirl of guilt that kick-started in his belly. He had sprinted out of that office. He had refused all of her attempts to contact him. He was, indeed, causing her a lot of stress, even if nothing of it had been remotely his fault. But she had been kind enough despite it, of course. She cared, in a way that fit neatly inside her own box of emotions. “Yes,” he nodded, pushing a hand inside the pocket of his jeans as he pushed the hint of a friendly smile around his lips. “I... Yes, I'll be here.”

His willingness must have been encouraging, because her cool hand now clasped his, grazing the coat on his arm. The coat with the discs in the pocket. “Come by anytime, whenever you want to talk, OK?”, she said kindly, squeezing her fingers around his hot skin. If she felt the unnatural burn, she didn't comment on it. “Thanks,” Will mumbled, and saw her eyes weakening at the sight of him. He was a quivering mess of sweaty curls and a sickly shade of pale and purple. Disgusting, pathetic. Weak, so near his mate without the promise of a touch, or the sight of silver hair, amber eyes, sharp bones. The scent of high fire in the winter woods, lighting the darkness of the night sky with the promise of destruction. Will felt his knees trembling, weakened at the thought, and fought hard to stay upright.

“And you are more than welcome to join me and Margot for dinner sometimes. She would love to see you again,” Alana offered him so very kindly, her hand grasping around his upper arm when she felt the hint of a stumble beneath his bones. She felt his weakness, and knowing that made Will feel a sharp sting of anger. Goddamnit, he wasn't a whimpering, pathetic beast, begging for his Alpha. He was Will Graham, and he had never relied on anybody. “Thank you,” he spoke again, hissing the words when his jaw refused to unclench.

She dropped her hand after a firm rub of his skin and stepped back, clicking her heels on the tiled floor. “So, I guess you would want to see Hannibal? I can arrange it right away if you like,” she offered somewhat casually and suddenly Will felt himself blinded by the shattering blow of her words, when they hit right between his eyes. He staggered back on his feet as he felt his face drained of blood. “No, no, I...”, he stuttered, holding up his hands and shaking his head in short, jerky movements. Alana tilted her head of shoulder-length, brown curls, following his movement backwards with a step forward. “Maybe just to say hello? It really would be good for you to see him,” she urged and Will felt his skin tightening with hot and cold shivers at the offer. “You look a little....peaky.”

And that was the second time he had been called that within the hour. Fuck. The mere mention of a visit to Hannibal was wreaking havoc on his Omega – a writhing knife to his humanity. “I can't...”, he quickly protested and Alana smiled, as if to take his worries away with a simple pull of lips. Before he could turn away, another hand fell on his shoulder of someone approaching him from the back.

“Mister Graham. Good to see you,” a cheerful, male voice rang in his ear and Will looked over his shoulder to see a muscular, blond man dressed in the black uniform he recognized from the security staff. He remembered the face, but could not pin a name to the row of white teeth and the stylish coif of hair. “Are you here for Dr. Lecter?”, the man asked and Will gasped, audibly this time, his skin pulling so tight around his flesh he felt himself choking. “I...”, he almost whimpered, his bloodshot eyes widened and his pale face shimmered with a fresh flow of perspiration. “We were indeed just discussing the possibility, Dennis,” Alana filled the void of Will's faltering voice. Enthusiastic fingers squeezed tighter in his shoulder. “He will sure be pleased to see you, Sir,” the Omega heard Dennis say. “He has had quite the temper since you left. Even some of his own books didn't survive your separation.”

And the noise, the endless noise of screams and howls and shrieking pain, it stopped. The endless images that flickered in his mind, the burning rage of flinging, flashing screens of everything that had been, that was, that could be.....it ended. There was one image left inside the silence, and it was his Alpha, suffering alone inside his cell. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything within Will turned cold. “I-I-Is he aggressive?”, he stuttered, turning himself fully towards Dennis who released his shoulder and nodded his head left and right in consideration. “Only short outbursts,” he spoke thoughtfully. “But he paces back and forth for hours, like a caged animal.” Will blinked and saw the image from behind his eyes, like he was in the room to witness it himself. “He doesn't even draw much anymore.” There was concern in Dennis' light voice and Will felt the simultaneous sensation of wanting to kick the security guard in the groin, and feeling that kick land right between his own legs.

Hannibal was here, close, suffering. He was suffering. He felt pain, because Will stayed away. He... he... There were so many thoughts that had fought each other before, but it was nothing but white noise under the image of his mate, his Alpha, waiting for him. He wanted to walk away, and he almost had succeeded, but now, what choice was left for him? “Do you want to enter the cell, or are you only coming in for a chat?” That choice, it seemed. Will breathed deeply through his nose and blinked away the tears that pressed behind his eyes. He was stronger than this. He should be able to walk away.

“I... eh... a chat,” was the best he could manage. No touching, just talking. Maybe it would be for the best. They could get things out, face to face, before he would step on a flight home by the end of the week. Maybe it would dissolve all this confusion. “Follow me,” Dennis smiled, palming the large key chain on the belt of his pants. Alana touched his arm again and leaned in with a pleased sparkle in her eyes. “I will see you soon,” she spoke quietly against his cheek before pulling back and walking off. In that moment, Will felt the sudden suspicion he had been pushed in this direction all along.

But Dennis guided him, with a broad hand on his damp back, as they headed for the stairs that led them down below. The worst of the worst, they housed here. Dennis' keys jiggled cheerfully as he walked, and Will spotted a gun, shoved into into his waistband. “You can always come in for a visit, Mister Graham,” Dennis spoke pleasantly as his large boots stomped along the stone floor with authority. “Stay the night if you want.” Will swallowed, and avoided the gaze he felt directed at him. “As Dr. Lecter's mate, you have all those privileges.” They took a right, a left, and went down a long hall as they crossed rows and rows of glass cells filled with leering, whistling scum with wild growing hair, hands in their jumpsuits and missing teeth. Will felt a hot flash of disgust beneath his ribs at the idea of counting his mate among this filth, and was pleased to know the Alpha was at least treated like a queen bee, housed in his own space, far away from the common stench. Dennis kicked the glass of the last cell on the right when a bald and tattooed inmate spat against the barrier and hissed something about his mother's vagina, but didn't even look away from the door ahead of them as he worked his fingers over his keys. Will looked, remembered the route, watched the keys, and he cursed himself for doing so with Hannibal in mind. He was poisoned.

“You could even just use his cell like a hotel room you don't have to pay for,” Dennis laughed and continued the one-sided conversation Will had stepped down from long ago, and the Omega frowned at the guard as he unlocked the heavy door. A hotel room? Even if he would ever want to stay with his Alpha for good, he would never refer to that cell as a hotel room. Hannibal, as a criminal with this many notches on his cutting board, it was an absolute outrage how he could spend his day in a quiet, clean cocoon of his arts and his daydreams. But, luxurious as it was, as a hotel room he would surely rate it one out of five stars, if only for the lack of privacy.

“Thanks,” Will nodded with a forced smile and took the door Dennis held for him. Their eyes met in the exchange and Dennis cocked a curious eyebrow as a toothy smile brushed his face. “It's kinda strange to see you face to face,” he admitted. “After I've seen you so often on a screen.” He turned his back and Will released the door, hearing it fall into the lock behind him. On screen. “Oh,” he said and fondled his lip miserably between his teeth as he followed down another corridor. The need within him turned sharper, sliced deeper, with every step he took, and his vocabulary was growing limited.

“You're taller than I thought you were,” Dennis commented offhandedly, and cheerfully glanced over his shoulder. Will swallowed, and thought of the discs in his coat. Was that what Dennis had witnessed on screen? And was that something he wished to know? “Thanks,” he mumbled, feeling the Omega inside him throbbing like a heart, and showing teeth and eyes in the dark corner of his mind.

“There we are,” Dennis stopped before a large, familiar door, and before Will could step back and change his mind, he began working on the locks with practiced speed. “I-I....”, Will stuttered, but Dennis did not notice his hesitation as he clicked open the last lock. The scent of Hannibal washed hard and deep over and into him and his knees buckled, his Omega wept, and Will himself felt very near tears when that tight bear-trap around his flesh finally loosened and left the gaping wounds powdered with rosy new skin. In that moment, he hated Hannibal, he hated himself, he hated Dennis and Alana and Doctor Hammings. He hated Molly too. He just wanted to go on and wrap his whole self around his Alpha until he had sunken into him completely, without anyone thinking, looking, judging or hurting. No one, not one, could understand what this was doing to him, and that their views of him only made it that much harder.

Dennis had the door in his hand that beckoned like an oxygen tank under water. “I'm not going in,” he said quietly as he leaned into Will. “He always makes me feel like he's looking right into my brain, and he is not impressed,” the guard spoke and gestured his hand towards the open door. Will nodded, swallowed dryly and stepped past Dennis with feet that wanted to walk ahead of him, but were weak and fragile on his bones. Without another word, he entered the room he had grown so very familiar with. And it was everything. The scent, the sight, the nearness, the connection of their eyes, it was the restoration of everything that had been scooped out of him.

Hannibal was there, already close to the glass, standing tall in his gray prison suit and his short, silver hair. He was pale, his amber eyes were veined and an irritated red and his fingers twitched as he held his arms beside his body. “Will,” he said, his voice softer than usual as his Adam's apple bobbed at the sight of his mate. Will felt a rush of despair, a moment where he envisioned himself throwing his body at that wall for as long as it would take to crawl inside and touch him. His Alpha, Hannibal. His hands would roam and his lips would search as he would pull at the fabric of his suit until it no longer hid that fading bronze skin and silver hair.

“You came,” Hannibal said, pulling Will out of his vision. The Omega lowered his eyes, standing on his spot near the door that had closed behind him, and clutching his coat in his arms. “I wasn't...”, he breathed, shaking his head as a mantra as he searched for an explanation he himself would understand. “It just... sorta happened,” he admitted, shuffling a foot and blinking at the floor until he could no longer bare the pull he felt beneath his eyes and looked back into that amber liquid gaze. Hannibal stepped forward the moment they reconnected and Will could see the quick flutter of his lashes, the tightening of his throat. He felt their nearness too, and if his natural, stoic appearance was any indication, he felt it hard. The knowledge made the Omega inside him lash out, shredding at his core with merciless teeth.

Hannibal moved, gracefully and certain, until he came to stand before the holes in the glass, openings in the barrier between them at hand height. Hannibal rested his fingers on the lower rim before he moved a steady gaze on his Omega. On his forehead, Will saw the same gleam of cold sweat he felt on his own. “Touch my hand,” Hannibal said, not asking a question, and flexed his fingers to lure Will's eyes towards where their skin could meet. Will watched, and the temptation, the possibility, came crashing so hard on him he was almost certain it would break his back with a thunderous crash. Hannibal looked pained, but strong and self-assured. There was a sharpness to him that screamed of control, just what Will had left behind when he walked away from this place.

He wanted that touch. Inside, he struggled and twisted and howled for that touch. But it would be a relapse. It would only make it so much harder to leave, and for Hannibal, to be left behind. Will eyed the fingers wordlessly before he met Hannibal's expectant gaze. “It's just a touch,” the Alpha said, his lips curling into that barely-there smile. His eyes were fire, always, but that had never been different since Will had been brought in an Omega. Maybe even before. Will breathed a laugh, defeated, as he shook his head. “You know it's not,” he said, a bite in his tone to cover the pain, and Hannibal's amber eyes flared at his indirect display of weakness. Will could almost feel his need to protect, to hold, to nurture his mate back to strength.

“Please,” Hannibal then spoke, his voice close to nothing, but his lips betrayed the words. The need in him was as strong as it flowed in Will. He could see it, feel it, he could hear the Alpha's screeching inside his own skull when they stood this close together. And Will could not be strong for the both of them. He walked to the glass, turned around, and placed his back against barrier. All to avoid the biting pull of his suffering mate. He pushed his hands back to slide his fingers through the hole and the touch was instant. Warm fingertips slid against his and caressed his skin, linking their bones and squeezing gently into flesh. The groan of relief, of pleasure, of desire, was made by them both, conjoined into a single sound.

It was pure ecstasy, to be able to touch, even so briefly and so small. It was a sudden climax of mind and bone and blood. Will squeezed the caressing fingers and rolled his head to the side to see Hannibal standing beside him behind the glass, his damp forehead now pressed against the cool glass. “Is it good to see me, Will?”, he asked, lips near the wall between them as his eyes opened and closed under the strain and pleasure their unfulfilling nearness caused them both. Will threw his head back against the wall and laughed, openly, humorless. Was it good? It was everything. It was hell and heaven, pitch black and bright, a bipolar ride of extremes that housed on either opposite of everything. The word to describe it was not something so simple. “Good? No,” he breathed and sniffled when a tear fell into the curve of his nostril.

Hannibal stayed silent and played with the one offered hand with both his own. “I wish you would come in,” he spoke after a moment of just standing near. “I want to hold all of you.” Another tear fell and hid away in the corner of Will's mouth, making him taste the salt on his tongue. “No,” he said, a whisper of air into the room as he felt the soft slide of skin around his fingers. There was a sharp hint of nail into the crease of his joint, but before he could gasp at the sting or consider pulling back, Hannibal soothed the mark with a circling pressure of his thumb.

This was insanity. Everything of it. That barrel full of marbles had turned into into a warehouse filled with most outrageous contradictions. Will twisted his hand in the grasp and turned himself towards the glass, leaning his face near Hannibal's against the barrier that separated them. “You know what I don't understand?”, he hissed and watched the fog from his lips blurring the clear surface. Hannibal looked back at him, both hands on Will's pliant fingers. “You said you could get out of here,” Will spoke quietly, paying heed to the microphones around the room. “Why don't you?”

One hand loosened its grip and rested along the rim of the other hole. Will watched the gesture and followed, bringing his free hand into Hannibal's touch. “Is that what you want?”, the Alpha spoke, and if they were not both blessed and cursed with the hearing of an animal, Will knew he would not have caught the question. He licked his lips and briefly closed his eyes, his forehead resting near Hannibal, without being able to feel the heat of the other's skin. “No,” he whined low in his throat, and rolled his face against the glass. “I don't know.”

Hannibal pressed two thumbs on the inside of his palms until Will's fingers curled up and over his touch. “Part of you does,” he said, massaging deep into the tissue of Will's quivering hands. “There has always been a lively, writhing part of flesh inside you, filled with blood and veins and desires underneath the hardened clay.” Will looked to see the amber eyes across from him, and blinked at the nearness and the shivering heat that seeped right through the glass. “Part of you wants me to sweep you up and bring you into our lives together without giving you the choice,” Hannibal near smiled, and laced their fingers together to pull them even closer. “There would be no fault, no guilt, no responsibility. No one to blame Will Graham.” Will closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall as he breathed deeply and unsteadily, visible against the glass. “And you would lie there as I hack away the clay and reveal the true beast underneath,” Hannibal hummed, his voice a tinge of satisfaction at the idea. “It wouldn't be your fault,” he uttered. “But it would accidentally be everything you have always desired.”

Will heard himself whimpering against the glass as Hannibal's words washed over him. It was cruel to say such things, even if the sketch Hannibal sharply penciled into this mind was not a new, untrodden image. He swallowed against a lump in his throat and reached for his Alpha's wrists with both hands, firming his grip on the bones of his arms. The pulse he felt there, was wild, like his own and Hannibal didn't pull away from the vicious grip. “I need you to know where I am,” he said, using his fingers to stroke at Will's wrists in return. “For when you need to return to me.” Will's hard eyes grew weak at the words and the touch as he remembered why his Alpha allowed himself to be caged like a dog in the first place.

“That is why you turned yourself in,” he said. “So I could find you if I presented, no matter where I was.” He had understood it only partly before, knowing Hannibal had wanted him to know where he was at all times. The reason for it had always been abstract in his mind. He had felt it to be a thing of power, a refusal to let Will move on without still picking at a part of his brain. But instead, Hannibal had been waiting, he had wanted certainty that he would never miss or be absent for his heated, needy Omega. When Will had sent him away, the Alpha had dedicated his life to his mate, waiting, even if forever. “Yes,” Hannibal confirmed, twisting his wrist up within Will's grasp to press their palms together.

“And if I leave here now, what will you promise me?”, Hannibal asked him, his smile calculating, his eyes knowing. Will shook his head, a gasp hitching in his throat. “I-I can't...”, he stuttered, feeling his own hand growing damp against Hannibal's, dry, warm skin. “Exactly,” the Alpha said, rubbing the cold perspiration back into Will's skin. Earth and ocean eyes observed and swallowed the other as they remained close, hands pressed together. “I would be a fugitive. A haunted Alpha.” Will swallowed at the idea. An Alpha was considered dangerous, he knew. If they caught Hannibal, they would shoot him, claiming he had gone wild and feral. No one would have any doubt. “But I would not be able to leave or move from the area without you.” Will's lips quivered, and broad fingertips pressed between his fingers. “If you do not choose me, Will, and I'm unwilling and unable to leave you, what is left for me to do?”

Hannibal's voice was stern, but Will could feel the gentle kneading of his flesh and watched the open eyes of blood and honey and dirt. “Kill whomever I do choose,” he said quietly against the glass. “Kill me.” His lips brushed the glass and Hannibal's eyes flashed towards the brush of moist pink, shielded from him by the powerful glass. “If I kill you, I kill me.” he said, tracing the rim of Will's nails. A smile of humor and sadness pulled at his lips all at once, and Will could see the wrinkles deepening around his eyes. The tip of Will's shoes touched the glass, as his torso pressed wholly into the hard material. Somewhere in the building, there must have been an alarm going off for standing too near, but he was certain they allowed them this, considering the circumstances. “So what would you do?”, Will asked him, rolling his lower lip between his fangs. Hannibal watched his sharp teeth, and ran a pink tongue along his own, larger ones. “My Alpha has grown much stronger since he has met your Omega,” he said, a low whisper against the wall. “I can honestly say I do not know what would happen.” Will blinked, unable to feel outrage by the confession, or even fear. It was the instinct, it was the life-choking desire, and he understood it well. Hannibal brought his eyes back to Will and licked over his lips. A drop of blood brushed over the pink skin, as his fangs must have pierced his tongue. “But, I do doubt any of it would be beneficial for a healthy start of a strong, bonded relationship.”

He wrapped their hands together in a strong hold of united fists as Will felt one eyebrow trembling with exhaustion and weakness. “I'm leaving here with you. Not before,” the Alpha said and Will pressed his lips together to fight the flow of tears that queued behind his eyes. Hannibal stroked the skin of his knuckles with a blunt nail and smiled. “I want you to have chosen me, no one else.” Will slipped his hands free, offering them palms up through the holes and Hannibal cupped them from below. It would have been easier, he now believed, if he had just gone in for sex. “What if that means you never get to leave?”, Will croaked, openly showing the pain that he didn't have the strength to hide any longer. More tears found their way down his chin, and he felt Hannibal's touch twitching for the need to comfort and hold. The Alpha pressed closer to the glass, eyes on his mate, and smiled until his teeth were bared.

“I don't believe it does.”

Chapter Text

Will felt his phone buzzing in his pocket to indicate the arrival of a text message. He was on his way back to the motel, walking fast but swaying on the joints of his knees and ankles. It was Molly, he realized when he pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped open the screen. She was curious, of course, about the results of the medical examination. Will read as he walked, staring at the screen until it faded to black, then unthinkingly shoving it back into his coat, a grimace openly on his face. Doctor Hammings was clearly terrific at trafficking information about him to his wife. Let him do the honors of filling her in.

Because Will was sick. He had been positively, undeniably ill ever since his hands had slipped from Hannibal's warm grasp, and he had stepped out of the building into the open air. He gritted his teeth as he crossed a street, only two blocks away from his motel room. He had feared for things to get worse after a visit, and he had been right. He was shivering under his clothes, soaked and cold and burning hot in the very same breath. His stomach had emptied itself in a trashcan in the park and his head was splitting along his temples with a wild pressure of cruel, angry fire that was enhanced by the roaring of his suffering Omega.

It was insanity. Walking away had felt like slow suicide and now he knew for certain he could not go back there, because he surely wouldn't survive. His body, his Omega, his mind, all of it was coming apart, ripping so far from the seams it would never again fit back together. It had been too much, or perhaps, maybe, the touch of those hands hadn't been nearly enough. Will shook his head and angrily wiped a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose.

Fuck. No... no. He tried to take a deep, calming breath as he walked. He wasn't dying, his charts were fine. He just couldn't go in there anymore until his next heat, that was all. That was all.

It also occurred to him that if the doctor was in contact with his wife, he might tell her about this, these chats or visits, and her understanding and support would not be endless. She didn't know what it was like, how frantic and urgent it had so quickly become between them. Molly, she didn't even know about the heats yet, the four times a year, lasting for days, breeding sessions he was required to participate in for the sake of his life. He would still have to tell her that there was no way for him to be able to turn away completely. No drugs, no medical treatment, no nothing.

When Will arrived at his door and grabbed the knob to push his key in the lock, he felt the door already giving way under his weight. It was already open. Inside the room, it was dark. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, just as he left it, but Will could see the lock had been forced. A cold draft slithered up his back as he pushed the knob, took a step forward and moved his head around the corner. Empty. It was hard to see into the poorly lit space, but he noticed his belongings were scattered around his open suitcase. That was not how he'd left it. Will swallowed, cursed under his breath and felt a harsh pull on his skin as goosebumps rose fiercely to the surface.

With the door open behind him, Will stepped over the threshold and moved to flick the light switch. Click . Finally he could see the tousle of clothes on the floor, his laptop beneath a pile of his underwear and several of his books under the side table. There was a scent that clung to the small space, his belongings, his bed, and it was one he couldn't place or understand. It was that of strong, red peppers and smoke and the sharp tinge of Aconitum flowers. It wasn't human, not entirely, and it felt poisonous to breathe it in. His eyes watered at the sharp sting that it brought around the sensitive rim.

Will checked the closet, the bathroom, under the bed and behind the doors, but the place was deserted. He couldn't find anything missing from his belongings, and it left him with nothing but empty, eerie confusion. After a moment of mindless back and forth pacing, Will opened the window and the door to let fresh air stream in, and sat on his bed to watch his suitcase, his books, his laptop, as the scent washed out, bit by bit, replaced by nothing but the outside breeze that ruffled the curtains. He shook out his sheets, he fluffed out his pillow and before it turned dark, he pushed the key in the lock and shut the door from the inside out.

**

There was nothing Will would rather do, sitting on the bed, dressed in damp, dirty clothes, than take a long, warm shower. He was covered in old sweat and his skin was sticky with it. He could smell himself without even lifting his arm, and the ripe scent of man made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. Yet, here he was, on his bed, not making a move.

Will had felt rather shaken after discovering the mysterious break-in, and after closing the door, he remained apprehensive, suspicious of every noise outside his window. But after a lost feather from his fluffed pillow had made its way into his nostril, he had pressed a finger to his nose and dragged it up to stop himself sneezing. And then, he had felt calm. He had felt safe and he had felt strong, powerful, protected. He'd smelled his Alpha on his skin and it cured the pain, the fear, the noise. It had brought the peace he craved, and soothed his wild water into a gentle stream. And as sick and scared and tired as he was, fuck it, he would indulge in it. He had nearly moaned into the scent as he pressed both hands to his face and breathed, breathed, his mate into his lungs.

So that shower, that shower he needed and wanted and really, really longed for, it would have to wait, because he was simply unable to wash away that scent of winter fire and home. Home, even though he had chosen a different place for himself in the world. Will breathed out a laugh into the silence of his room. He was weak, yes. He was so incredibly, disgustingly weak, and not just for sniffing his own hands like a bloodhound with prey. He had gone to see him, touched him, and he had felt the contact all the way through. He had wanted to cross the barrier between them, so violently. If that door had been opened, he feared to think about what would have happened, even now he wasn't in heat. He felt him so strongly, always. His pain, his joy, his desire, and his touch, right on the inside of his skin. He wanted him. He wanted him so Goddamn much and it couldn't be allowed to happen. He couldn't allow it to change anything.

Will shifted his weight and heard plastic cracking under his hip. Oh. He was sitting on the pocket of his coat that was sprawled out on the bed. His bones had rested on the inside of his pocket, and inside... oh God. Inside were those fucking discs. Will closed his eyes, pressed his hands to his nose and inhaled so passionately it must have looked like he was getting high, but he didn't care. He was calmer now. The pain was at bay, just out of sight, and he was so weak, so tired, he just let it happen without the shame that would return when the scent on his hands had been washed away. Again, his hip leaned hard on one of those plastic cases and Will reached in, reluctantly, to drag out the four discs from his pocket and held them before his face. LECGRA. Lecter Graham.

He turned the plastic over in his hands and let his nail track the ribbed surface on the sides. Those cases, they felt warm in his hand from where his body had pressed on them. Will brought one of the plastic covers to his nose and smelled his own scent of autumn Omega, mixed with the stuffy smell of office and a sharp whiff of hand sanitizer. If these discs were what he suspected them to be, he would be able to watch himself through that camera, that red light in the high corner. He would be able to witness himself being brought into the cell, attacked and attacking as Hannibal and he fucked brutally on that damaged table, right before it would break and send them flying across the floor where they continued what they had so aggressively started. It was a haze, but Will remembered everything that had happened within the tunnel vision of his heat-affected eyes.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, and squeezed the cases tighter in his hand. Everything would be there. The sex, the talks, sleeping together on the ripped mattress. Eating, and kissing and crying. That morning he left....Will dropped the discs on the bed and swung his legs off the side. His hands covered his face, making him that much more aware of his Alpha's scent that lingered on his skin. The idea of watching those images made him feel so fucking vulnerable, like he was made of nothing but twigs and grass beneath a pile of heavy pebbles. It would show him what they had seen, guards and doctors, specialists and maybe even Alana. It disturbed him, but not enough. They were on there, in their cocoon of heat and need, and the connection that had spun a private world between them. Will wouldn't say he missed it, because that would just be... He sucked saliva through his teeth to hear it whistle. That would be admitting defeat. He would say it had been easier, somehow, than it was now. It had been calmer, clearer, and definitely more pleasurable. The sex, God... Will's groin stirred hot, ferociously, at the idea of what he now possessed in images. Slick coated the back of his thighs and his cock pushed impatiently against his zipper at the mere idea.

It was agonizing desire he couldn't control, so deep and connected to every root, ending in a swirling ball of darkness within him. It was savage, restless, wild without the promise of peace or a dot on the horizon, where it would end. Will whined low in his throat, the sound nothing but that of an animal. Hannibal. Fuck, shit, fuck, he wanted Hannibal. He needed to see him, to touch him and feel him and smell him, in and out and everywhere. Will looked at his hands before his face. That scent, Will's and his, had been deeply embedded in his skin for days, and it had become one unique perfume of dark seasons. It was having been so close to him, combined with the exhaustion and the fury of his Omega that made him feel like he was breaking, losing, unable to keep fighting. And he wanted to watch those goddamn discs too. He did. Of course he did. His body was throbbing at the mere idea of watching what he couldn't help but desire most, and for tonight, he allowed himself to treat the pain. By watching. Just watching. He was just going to see what was on there, he assured himself. Just a look.

He placed the laptop on his bed and sat himself up against the headboard with a pillow in his back before pushing a disc into the drive. Click. He opened the folder, he moved the mouse, he listened to the roar of the angry, tired laptop coming to life... and there it was. Video files. There were several, labeled by the time of the recording. The first one started at 6 A.M., and the last file ended at 6 A.M. the following day. Click. He opened the first file and waited, waited for a frame, a video player, and suddenly... he was back in the cell.

6 A.M. Will watched himself wrapped in thin sheets and Hannibal's arms on the floor of the prison as they slept together on the single mattress, surrounded by clutter. Everything was silent as they breathed together in a slow, steady pace. Will saw Hannibal's weary hair, his bare, broad shoulders, and looked at the curls that covered his own forehead as his eyes moved beneath the lids. It was surreal, watching himself in a state he had never witnessed before. Peaceful. Careless. Minutes ticked away where they just stayed spooned in their cocoon of sleep but Will didn't fast forward. He watched them, couldn't tear himself away. He watched every second that passed. It wasn't until 7:12 that Hannibal began to stir against him and opened his eyes. The blood and gold of predatory, awakened Alpha shone hard through the screen and Will felt it as if fingers reached inside his lower belly to squeeze around everything pink. His body hunched forward as he tore his eyes from the screen and took a deep breath before he dared to look again.
Hannibal was nuzzling along his neck, scenting at his throat, nudging against his curls and Will knew it was pure animalistic, honest affection. Those kisses that followed against the skin of his neck made the sleeping Omega stir and Will watched the contact, the tenderness on the screen before him with open eyes, parted lips, frozen limbs. He watched himself turn to Hannibal, following those lips, and kiss him, pressing closer, reaching up to touch his Alpha's jaw, his hair. The primal contact, pure and whole, it showed in them both. More so than he had realized at the time. He felt a sharp sting on his cheek and noticed his own nails pressing hard into the flesh of his face. He remembered this moment, of course, and he remembered feeling conflicted about such intimacy outside of a raging moment of heat. He didn't wish to see it, and yet he couldn't pull away. This had happened, because he had allowed it. Because he had wanted it to happen. That was as far as he had dared to analyze it, then and now.

Alana appeared on his screen, and for once he was grateful for her interruption. The conversation that followed was something he remembered fairly well when it started, but gradually slipped away as he watched himself wrap his arms and legs around his Alpha, a nose under his mate's chin. Fuck, yes he remembered. Oh God. His cheeks burned furiously with embarrassment as he watched himself shamelessly rubbing his whole body against Hannibal, right in front of Alana. He was thankful to see things did not escalate any further when Hannibal picked him up and carried him to the bathroom in the back of the cell with large hands supporting and spreading fully over his ass. Will watched himself disappear from the screen as he crossed his ankles and pressed his thighs together. He knew what would happen behind that door. He knew Hannibal would drop to his knees behind him and lick his way deep inside until Will's knees had buckled. Then, they had jumped into the shower and fucked hard against the steaming glass. The way it had felt, the things they had said... Will breathed sharply into the empty room, letting his fingers scratch at the jeans around his thighs.

Alana walked out of the frame, but soon the cell was opened by a guard who led in half a dozen men that carried a bed frame, a table, new mattresses and chair. Fuck, of course. Will pressed hands to his eyes. He had forgotten about the furniture being replaced while he and his Alpha had mated loud and violent only one wall away. “No, God no,” Will moaned as the men made quick work of gathering up all the splintered pieces of broken furniture. There were moans, groans and desperate whines that filled the cell and all of them he recognized as his. “Don't,” Will moaned his despair and bit his cheek hard at the mingle of hot shame and hot memories of what was happening inside that room. “Fuck, shit, THERE,” his own voice shouted through the wall, and Will almost whimpered with the vivid memory of being flushed against the tiles, his Alpha's tongue deep inside his hole as he pressed back against his face to take him deeper. One of the working men let the bed frame slip from his hands and three of the others abruptly paused their work, shifting their gazes between the bathroom door and each other. Ears were pink and eyes were wide. Will groaned pitifully, while simultaneously feeling his cock filling with blood at the soft string of moans and whimpers that rung from the screen.

One of the men mumbled something, another chuckled under his breath and the guy on the far right seemed to adjust himself in his work uniform. “God,” Will sneered at the sight, subconsciously adjusting himself inside his own, tight jeans. The noises never quelled as the men continued their work, glancing towards the bathroom that continued to metaphorically 'rock' with the obscene noises that had been brought forth by his own throat. “Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!”, he heard, just as two men carried in the new table. The first one dropped it on his own foot and the other cursed loudly when the heavy furniture slipped from his own grasp and tumbled to the side. There was more mumbling, some profanities, and most of them were now blushing a deep, scarlet pink. Will noticed how the one in the back was rubbing his hands over his thighs while another pulled his shirt down over his crotch. It was absolutely disturbing. Disturbing. Will popped the button of his jeans and lowered his fly, just to give himself some room.
Hannibal had known about this. He had talked about those men, listening, getting off on the idea of what was going on inside that bathroom. And he had fucked into Will as he talked about it. He had reminded Will of his audience, and it had only added to the heat. He'd promised to kill them for listening in, for imagining just how Hannibal was pounding into his slick, Omega's hole. Will pressed an open hand to his groin at the images that filled his head. Hannibal had slammed onto his prostate with such pressure and speed that he had come all over....

Enough, enough . Will took his hand off his jeans and pressed the drive until the image went black and the disc was spat out by his laptop. He sniffled once, released a heavy breath and watched his hands shake before his eyes. That was....That had been surreal. He had been there, but he hadn't. It was a peek behind the curtain of something that shouldn't even exist. If his hands were not covered with his Alpha's scent, Will would have wiped at the sweat on his forehead, but instead, he let it shimmer on his skin as his fingers pried the second disc free of its case and slid it into place. Yes, he was watching it. Yes, even after this. He couldn't even think of a justifiable reason why he was, but he wasn't going to bother with one. It was bigger than he was, and he needed so see him. Just for tonight.

Click. And there he was. Beautiful and strong and completely savage. It was the first time Will had entered the cell, he realized, as he watched himself being escorted into the room by heavily armed guards. Hannibal was there, trembling wildly with uncontrolled need and Will swallowed hard at the sight. His mate looked so strong, so feral with blood in his eyes, fangs on display, his back hunched like he was prowling his prey. They scented the other, hunting like beasts with blind eyes before they pounced, using nails and teeth. Will remembered the bone crushing, mind shattering, gut wrenching desire within himself when he walked inside that door, and watching, he felt a flutter of something wild hitching in response. Hannibal yanked his curls back with grabbing fists and he watched his own head roll back in submission as his nails left bloody trails over Hannibal's back. “Oh,” Will gasped at the stream of blood drops that ran down Hannibal's smooth skin and his cock jumped harder inside his underwear. The scent of his arousal, combined with Hannibal's sent on his fingers, was an intoxicating, heady mix that filled the air around him as he watched them mating on the screen.

Hannibal pushed against him, and shoved his hips onto the tabletop that was already weak with damage. “Fuck me,” he heard himself moaning and watched himself rising his hips off the table like a wanton whore: “breed me.” Hannibal hissed and Will watched himself go delirious under his Alpha, while he felt himself leak wet and burn hot in his underwear at the sound. There was no point in stopping it, he knew. He was either going to touch himself while watching this, or touch himself later while thinking about it. His entire body was building a boiling pressure within him, and it was made of ecstasy amongst the endless torture. The cause was lost. Will whimpered heatedly into the room as his hand reached to undo the row of buttons of his shirt, from his collarbone down to his pelvis. “Please, please, please, Alpha,” he cried on the screen as Hannibal lapped at his opening with broad strokes of his tongue and eyes that closed and fluttered with the pleasure of tasting his Omega.

Will watched himself on screen in an equal state as his eyes turned white and rolled wild in his head. He jerked and whined unseeingly on the table as his nails clawed viciously at Hannibal's flesh, which made the Alpha snarl his teeth bare. “Now. Now. Please,” Will heard himself cry and reached down his bared chest, running nails along his collarbone. His breath hitched when he watched Hannibal hoisting his knees up around his hips and pushed into his body in one quick stroke. His large cock sank into wet, tight heat and Will watched his body stretch, slick and ready for all of his mate, and heard both Hannibal and himself whining desperately against the other. They were lost, completely swallowed by the dome of pleasure, just big enough to fit them both.

Their eyes met, despite the wild instinct to just rut and rock, and Will's fingers found the short pubic hair and scratched against the skin. They were so deeply connected, in complete surrender to their nature. They moved together and Will watched raw tears of pleasure on his own face. He could see the table wobbling under their weight as they fucked hard, fought hard, touched everywhere and loved it with complete abandon. “Fuck.” Will pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips to release his wet erection to the open air.

His fingers traveled up his hard shaft when Hannibal wound his fingers around the Omega's throat and pressed unforgivingly against his windpipe. Will watched himself howling and snapping his teeth in response, and he remembered that precise moment. He remembered the taste of Hannibal's blood on his tongue and the way his Alpha's cock stretched every inch of his body until his mate fit inside him so snug, every bit of him burned painfully with invitation. Will's fingers wrapped around his filled out cock as he remembered the pain that had only indulged his pleasure so cruelly. He hissed between his teeth as he watched himself arching off the table, his eyes blind with pleasure and his ass filled with all of his Alpha's cock. It was terribly disturbing and extremely, most extraordinarily arousing.

“Hnnnn,” Will moaned into the teeth that bit into his bottom lip as he stroked his own hard flesh with an unsteady hand. Spreading the leaking pre-cum over the tip and down his length as he worked his skin slowly up and down beneath his quivering fingers. He could clearly see the tear streaks on his own flushed cheeks as he watched Hannibal pounding into him without mercy, and saw his hips meeting his Alpha almost obscenely greedy as he tried to pull even closer. Hannibal bit him right above the nipple, and Will watched blood pouring from his skin as he pressed his hand tighter around his cock, feeling the beautiful pressure build inside his belly. The table broke not long after, but they hardly even seemed to notice when they were both flung to the floor. Will watched himself get on all fours, completely shameless, and push his dripping ass up in the air so lustfully it made him blush a crimson red as he stroked two fingers over his slick hole. “Fuck.”

Click. Another file, and here he was crawling over a sleeping Hannibal while positioning himself above his Alpha. “No. Jesus no,” Will moaned into his hand while the other continued to pump around the hard length of his cock. “Fuck, ohh fuck,” he heard himself whimper on the screen as he sank down around an oblivious Hannibal's erection. The Alpha started growling in his slumber and Will lowered his own hips on the mattress to sink a finger inside his clenching, empty hole. “Ohhh.” It wasn't something he normally did, but God, it felt good.

Hannibal's eyes sprung open and he scratched at Will's thighs with a furious growl before he tilted his hips to meet his mate's thrusts. Will watched himself shudder, whimper, surrender, as he was brought down for a hungry kiss that seemed to scream of a battle of dominance between them and left both swollen and red around the lips. Will pumped his cock faster at the sight of Hannibal's bloodshot, fluttering eyes when his Omega clenched tight around him. The Alpha hauled him to his chest to fuck harder into his wailing mate and Will pushed a second finger into his tight, slick heat as he panted between parted lips, and rubbed the head of his throbbing cock. “Ohhh God.”

It was obscene, how he cried and howled and scratched like a rabid dog while rolling his hips hard and wild on his Alpha's large and wide erection, so desperate to fit it all inside. Hannibal licked at his tears to soothe him before he marked him red with sharp fingernails over all his pale, exposed skin. A third finger fitted itself into Will's slick hole, staining his hand until it was drenched and slippery before he pushed down to meet the stretch of his insides. “Fuck,” he whimpered at the feeling of his nail brushing against his prostate, while watching himself ride his Alpha with such passionate, destructive energy, it was positively barbaric.

Next . Will stroked over the hard flesh of his erection and moaned openly and pathetically when he watched himself being pushed roughly against the glass prison wall he had touched only today. He watched Hannibal's hand press on his belly as he lavished his neck with kisses and nips. Their voices mingled in growls and howls and... fuck, Will pushed his fingers deeper inside the slick of his ass and grazed the little nub inside him with pressing tips. It didn't feel like when Hannibal touched him, fucked him, but it felt so soothingly familiar, and he couldn't help but pump his hips into the air as his cock slid into his fist. “Please. Please, Hannibal,” he heard himself begging on the screen as the Alpha attacked his mouth with his own and his ass with merciless pumping fingers.

Then, Hannibal pushed inside his body from an angle that provided a most spectacular view, and the air filled with noises that would not have been identifiable as human. They fucked hard, but slow, and it looked almost painful if Will hadn't remembered bright and vividly, that it had instead been everything else. Everything, if not enough. He watched himself scrambling against the glass, pushed into the wall from behind as Hannibal's hard, glistering cock slid in and from his body with controlled strokes. It looked hypnotizing, enthralling, and Will gripped his own cock hard in his hand as he smeared his own slick from his balls to the tip of his shaft. He wished, staring at the large, wide girth of Hannibal, that he could sink to his knees in that very moment, and take it into his mouth to see how much of it would fit. He never had tried. Not ever. Two slick fingers ran over his nipple and pinched the peaked flesh, before he brought his hand down to scratch helplessly against his flexing abdomen while pumping his hot, hard, slippery erection with a tight grasp.

“Uhh, uhh, uhh,” he heard erupting from his own throat with every push into his body, and Will couldn't help but mimicking the noise as he pushed his fingers back between his legs and started pumping. “Fuck you,” he growled on screen when Hannibal did not respond to his silent pleas for more and it wasn't long before they toppled over onto the floor, where Hannibal punished him with a brutal pace that Will could remember so vividly his hole clenched tight around his digits. He had thought of how hot this must have looked, working his hips to fuck himself hard on his floored Alpha, and the pressure in his balls and the tingling in his thighs were proof how true that really was.

On another file, they were fucking on the table after the argument they'd had about him leaving. Will watched Hannibal push him over the table with demanding, angry hands before he stripped away his jumpsuit and wasted no time to fuck him, hard and punishing. Hands pulled at his hair, nails dug into hips and Will whimpered at the memory of how good it had felt to be beneath the weight of his Alpha, completely at his mercy. His fingers pushed harder and deeper inside him, finding his prostate with the tip of his fingers with every stroke as he fisted his cock hard and tight in his hand with a thumb that rubbed circles along the slit of the leaking head. “Oh fuck, Jesus,” Will cursed at the hot pressure in his lower belly as he watched his own eyes fluttering wildly in his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me,” he cried over the speaker and Will whined in response.

The scene of the next file was the last time they had sex. It was on the single mattress with Will on Hannibal's lap and the frantic strokes of his hand slowed at the sight of them, rising and falling together. Hannibal supported his weight as their bodies shuddered and their mouths met in slow licks and gentle pulls of lips. Hands roamed, but no longer viciously. They stroked, caresses, more worshiping than desperate, angry demands for contact. Will saw tears on his own face, much different than the ones he had seen there before, and witnessed the same glimmer in Hannibal's eyes. There was pain, more evident to him now than it had been then. He hadn't known here, how hard the choice he was going to make was going to be.

Warm hands loved his skin, held him steady, kept him safe from falling, and Will let go completely into Hannibal's arms. He watched himself shudder violently when Hannibal's knot began to swell at the base of his cock and felt an overwhelming need to spill his own tears and seed all at once as he stroked himself hard but slow, punishing. His wriggling fingers that rubbed against his prostate slipped out and he brought them to his face to smell sharp Omega slick and the heady scent of his Alpha, mingled, tangled, mixed together into perfect, feral darkness. On screen, he watched himself take Hannibal's knot inside him as he continued to tremble around him, spurting his release as his unseeing eyes stayed on his Alpha. who in turn tensed inside his mate as the muscles of his stomach clenched hard, before he followed after Will and watched him like he was the only thing ever worth watching.

And Will followed him, hand hard and fast on his pulsing cock and slick fingers with united scents to his nose, to his lips, in his mouth. He tasted them, together, and then he erupted. He watched their eyes, their gentle hands, their breathtaking connection, as he spurted over his fluttering belly. Pearly drops of white fell onto his sweaty skin as he groaned with eyes open on the screen, and his hands worked slowly, riding out the waves of pleasure that raced beneath his skin, into the deep tissue of his flesh. “Fuck.” Oh, it was good, the orgasm. It was what he needed. But it wasn't... that. It wasn't.....

It was seconds of hot pleasure, followed by the dull throbbing of the afterglow. It was human pleasure, familiar. What he had witnessed on the screen, that had been so much more. “Aah,” Will panted, coming down from his climax with his fingers still inside his mouth and his spent cock in the palm of his hand. He let go of himself, brought his hand to the sheets, but didn't wipe his fingers. Not yet. His head fell back, his chest was rising rapidly. Fuck. This was wrong. This was dirty and sick and wrong. Narcissistic even, not to mention that many others had watched this before him. That alone should have disturbed him enough not to have wanted this.

It didn't matter anyway, Will thought, as he tried to slow his heavy breathing. It hadn't worked. He'd wanted the pain to be relieved. Instead, after watching what he had just seen, he wished he could just ball up and cry. It had been such a rise and fall, what they had shared in those few days. It had been violent, raw, completely mindless at first. Then, it had started to become something different. Their conversations flowed like they had done in the old days and eyes had softened while touches gave instead of took. Their connection had been undeniable. By the end of it, it hadn't looked like mating anymore. It had looked like something else entirely, something for which he didn't want to find a name.

He stared at the ceiling. There was one more disc left, and it was their goodbye. He used the sheets to clean himself and hoisted up his underwear while he kicked off the jeans. He didn't want to watch that disc. All he wanted to do was turn over and sleep and hopefully it would allow him some moments of oblivion. But the disc burned in the case none the less, and he knew he wouldn't stop thinking about it until it had been slipped into the drive. Click.

He let the video play, even though he couldn't find the strength to watch it anymore. He just sat there, arms around his waist, his back against the headboard, and heard the words that were spoken through the speaker. But he didn't look up to see their eyes, the touches, the kiss. He didn't look up to see the face of his Alpha as he walked from him without looking back. He just let the video run, until there was nothing but silence on the screen.

Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty, and both rooms remained quiet. Will stared at the ceiling, listening to Hannibal's silence on the screen, and wondered if they could fall asleep together, like this. When he did look, maybe half an hour later, he saw his mate on the bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling, just like he was. He was completely still, but his eyes were open and his fingers that lay against his sides were bent with hidden tension. He looked like Will had never seen him.
Even if he hadn't possessed the strength to watch this before, he couldn't look away now. His mate was there, unreadable, unreachable, alone. His knee twitched once, his eyes, his shoulders, they jerked. Hannibal was the master of all control, Will knew. He didn't yawn or belch or fidgit. But now he twitched, and the sight was most disturbing. He never stopped staring at him as they lay together in silence for an hour. Then, Hannibal got up from the bed and started pacing, from the bed to the opposite wall, and back, and back, and back again. Will watched him, saw nails pressing into palms, saw sweat on his temple, saw teeth grinding behind closed lips.

Another hour passed, and Hannibal walked. Eyes unseeing, feet unstopping. Will could watch for hours, even if it hurt enough to consume him. Then, one of the guards came in, carrying a phone. “Your lawyer,” he informed Hannibal and plugged in the phone. Hannibal looked at the device, calculating, and took the call when the guard had left the room. What followed was a conversation Will couldn't decipher. His voice was soft, low, a murmur, and Will knew that was the point exactly. No one was supposed to hear, and Will felt his inside clench with the knowledge of not knowing. The conversation lasted six minutes, nearly seven, before Hannibal ended the call. The phone was collected and Hannibal returned to his bed.

Will closed the laptop with a final push of his hand. There was more to be seen, he knew. His phone call to Hannibal must have been recorded too. But he had had enough. All there was left on that disc was pain. Hannibal's and his own, and he couldn't bare anymore. He felt spent, in so many ways. What he really wanted, more than anything, was to hold him, and to smell him and to breathe into his neck just to feel him close. Will slid between the sheets, his shirt still open around his shoulders. He would be strong again tomorrow, he decided. For now, he could desire all those things. Tomorrow, he would be strong enough to arrange his flight back home.

As the clock ticked, and Will's eyes never closed, he tried not to think about how this was the first night without him that they hadn't talked on the phone. He turned his back to the motel phone on his nightstand and ordered himself not to keep an ear out, but even well after three, he still heard how the room stayed silent.

Chapter Text

The loud knock on the door made Will's whole body tense. His eyes shifted sharply from the phone in his hand to the direction of the offensive noise, made by heavy knuckles against thick, painted wood. He had been in the middle of writing a text message to Molly, but instantly slid the black device back into his pocket as he stood up from the bed and squinted his eyes. Who knew he was here? Alana knew. The person who had broken into his room did, too. He hesitated, deliberating whether he could just pretend not be in, but the knuckles rapped on his door again and he felt himself moving towards the intrusive, demanding sound. Before it could slice through his splitting head a third time, he opened the door.

“Jack,” Will said, surprised to see the familiar face on the other side of the threshold. Jack Crawford, with his coat and his hat and those dark eyes that could pierce a hole into your sense of self-worth. The sight of him was out of place, so far away from the old Will Graham. “Hello, Will,” Jack said, eyes straight unto his, and Will remembered with a cold jolt that the agent had been there when he'd presented inside the prison. He had witnessed how Will wailed for his Alpha, leaked slick on the hospital sheets and arched his hips into the air in search for contact. And that was before he was pushed into that cell with his mate where they had wasted no time devouring each other in front of whomever had wished to be a spectator. Will didn't know how long Jack had stayed to witness, but the memory was one of the many reasons Will couldn't answer that stare with one of his own.

They shook hands, with Jack's so much bigger and sturdier against his weak, clammy flesh. “Take a walk with me,” Jack said, and Will found the courage to look up and see the imposing special agent regarding him without a lick of self-consciousness, embarrassment or even the imaginable disgust. Jack didn't look at him with pity. He didn't look at him in a different light. Jack Crawford doesn't judge, not when you are of use to him. “Alright,” Will blinked rapidly and quickly collected his coat before stepping outside and following after Jack, who had already turned towards the park. For a brief moment, Will considered asking him to change direction, but the words died on his tongue with those first, alleviating steps, and he silently fell in line.

They kept their hands buried in their pockets as they walked through the quiet streets. Not a gush of wind was present to ruffle hair or sooth the stuffy heat beneath Will's skin, as his eyes flashed up to the gray, cloudy sky. “So, how are you?”, Jack asked him in his low baritone, turning his head towards Will, who quickly flung his gaze back to his shoes. “I'm...-”, he paused, brushing back his greasy curls with both hands. He never did have that shower, even now the scent of Hannibal had nearly faded from his skin. “Yes. This is all a big, big mess,” Jack filled in, a curt but sympathetic nod directed his way as Will dug his hands back deeper in his coat. ”But we'll figure this out,” Jack said, determined, his voice a low boom of confidence. “We will find a way to end this for you. We will find a cure, a solution...” Jack moved his hands in opposite circles to illustrate how his words would continue in a string of different phrases with the same, exact meaning.

Will smiled bitterly into the pulled up collar of his coat. His skin was burning, but the thick fabric made him feel shielded, an extra layer between himself and the world. “That sounds like you're planning on offing one of us, Jack,” he said airily, and Jack watched him with a stern, slow frown, and a resolved, tight line around his mouth. “You must know that if it's necessary to ensure your survival, I'm willing to find a way...”, he paused meaningfully as his shoulder bumped against Will's. Their footsteps never slowed during the conversation, but Will took an unconscious step sideways at the words near his ear, and created new distance between them. “That wouldn't cure anything,” he quickly interjected before Jack could speak the words Will knew rested behind his tongue. “It would only make things worse.” Will swallowed against the tight feeling inside his mouth and sucked the back of his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn't a lie. Killing Hannibal would mean his own demise, in many ways. He would either die right along with him, or he would waste away until the moment came. More truthfully, he didn't want Hannibal to die. Not now, not then, not truly ever. As he predicted Jack's words inside his head, it became more and more a struggle to stop himself from snarling his teeth bare, as both Omega and man.

Jack sighed a heavy sigh as they strolled under the rustling trees of the park and he reached out to rest a large hand on Will's weak shoulder. “I promise you...”, he started, his voice carrying a slice of something that hearkened back to an old, personal vendetta and the anger inside Will rose higher. It rose with every sympathetic, misunderstanding touch and glance that fell upon him. It rose with every personal agenda disguised as a helping hand. He snapped before he could stop himself. “Jack,” he bit, pulling the agent out of his intentions as both men stopped in their tracks. Jack's hand fell away from him as they simultaneously turned towards each other and the FBI agent regarded him with harder, more calculating eyes. Will knew how much the man had always depended on his authority. He demanded respect, leadership, control, and received it without effort. No one dared to go against the loud persona of the special agent.

But the Omega within Will arched his back and paced protectively around his throbbing brain. There was no tolerance for authority over Will Graham. There was no place for new leadership within his pack.

“I don't need help,” Will said, calming his voice and lowering his shoulders as he returned Jack's pointed stare with as much confidence as he could musher. The agent's nose jerked around the wings and his mouth pulled tight. “You've seen better days, Will,” he said, stepping back into the pace of their previous stroll as Will followed beside him. “Yeah,” he huffed through his nose. He had seen himself in the mirror this morning and he knew what he looked like. Every day was worse. His color was a mix between parchment white and infection-red, his eyes were sunken inside a blend of gray and purple, and his veins popped blue and black beneath his truculent skin. Even with his facial hair neatly trimmed, and his greasy hair combed, he knew he had never looked closer to death. “I've seen better decades, Jack,” he spoke dryly and Jack threw him a hard glare.

“This situation worries me,” he said, his expression stern and tight as he tried to keep their eyes connected and undoubtedly spear a point through his special agent Will. Will didn't look away this time, not feeling the heavy blanket of Jack's disapproval equally smothering as he once had. “You've always been drawn to Hannibal Lecter,” Jack said accusingly, and Will clenched his fingers tighter in his pockets. It was Jack Crawford, after all, who had been kind enough to introduce them. “I remember you once told me you had wanted to run away with him, and that part of you still did.” Will smiled despite himself as Jack's words rang out in tight, quiet confusion. He hid his lips behind his collar. Jack had never truly allowed himself to trust Will after that confession, he knew.

The agent seemed to ponder his own words for a moment, before he turned his dark eyes back to Will. “I am wondering about that part of you, now,” he said, deliberately careful with his tone, as if trying to lure a wild beast out of its cage. The Omega nudged at his insides and Will felt every limb grow heavier, sour, as they walked. “Part of me still does, Jack,” he said, honest with him and honest with himself. Will knew there had always been that part of him, and it would forever remain. That part that wanted to leave the world behind and sink into the darkness with the one person that made him feel alight. But he fought it every step of the way, as he had clearly shown by now. He had learned to live without Hannibal, and he would continue just that. For Molly. For...

“I've been thinking about this a lot, Will. I've been trying to understand,” Jack said as he pulled his hat off his head, twisting it in his large hands as they passed the duck pond. “And I think I finally get it.” A homeless man stared miserably at two screaming toddlers and what looked like their grandmother, feeding the birds a fresh loaf of bread. “It's the animal in you that wants this,” the agent said, and Will's eyes briefly shot back to him before he returned them to the shrieking ducks. “It's not you, Will. It never was you who wanted to take part in this. Even back then, it was the beast.”

Will rubbed a thumb over an eyebrow as they strolled past traveling people, leashed dogs, children on their little bicycles. He closed his eyes for a brief second, and saw himself back in the snow, confessing his desires to Jack. His betrayal. Jack had lost an ally in him, someone he could mindlessly thrust back and forth inside his circle. Jack's ego, his judgment, had received quite a blow that day. His pride had been bruised, and he blamed himself for the mistake in thinking he understood the special agent he saw in Will. It was failure, and Jack Crawford didn't do failure. He never had, and then along came Hannibal. Will's lips twitched again against his coat. This theory where Will was nothing but a slave to his Omega, forcing him to choose Hannibal when nothing in his human mind had desired it, was indeed a very flattering solution for Jack's writhing ego. No one to blame but Hannibal Lecter. “You've been doing a lot of thinking,” Will said, instead of the thousand other things he could have said.

“Yes,” Jack replied, his voice raised with growing enthusiasm as they swayed to avoid someone on roller skates. “And I've been researching ways to control and numb the animal gender within a person, or even destroy that part of the brain completely. There are people that claim...”, he chatted, gesturing wilder and wider with his arms as he spoke. But Will was sick, he was weak and still infused with a liquid pain that crept in every corner of his flesh. He was here, weak on his legs and mindlessly exhausted, listening to the booming voice of his former employer about cutting out a piece of his brain. “...electrodes are attached to both temples, and then...” His Omega started gnawing at the floorboards of the attic, huffing hot breath and scraping its claws against damaged wood until Will felt the sharp, slicing splinters as if they were under his own fingernails. It felt like the reins were slipping from his hands. Dr. Hammings, Alana, Jack, if he let it happen he would be swooped up and hospitalized, probed and cut and medicated until his insides were empty.“Jack,” he said, and never before had anyone dared to interrupt this man, this many times in one conversation, Will was certain of it. Jack looked at him with discontent, but kept himself composed as fingers pressed into the rim of his hat. He wasn't going to yell, Will realized. He must have decided on that before hand.

“I am not running away with him,” Will said, eyes meeting eyes as the two men crossed another quiet street. “I'm going back to my family in a couple of days.” Jack blinked back at him, visibly grinding the words over in his head. “Oh,” he then said. “That's good.” He gave one short nod, but kept restless fingers on his hat, staring straight ahead of him. Will felt one eye flinching at the lukewarm response his civil intentions received, coming from the man who had just half-suggested to lobotomize him. He felt the prickle of irritation on the back of his neck, but instead replied with; “I appreciate your concern and your help, Jack”, and gave the large man a half-hearted nod in return. Jack tilted his head, as a shrug touched his broad shoulders. “Of course,” he said, showing Will his rounded profile against the stark, gray sky. Will knew that Jack would never understand the scenario where someone would not indulge in his help, his attention, and chose his next words carefully.

“I need time to see how things will play out,” he said, trying to keep himself steady and sure on his near-crumbling bones. “I need to know if I can handle this on my own.” He dared to face Jack, eyes steady, and watched the emotions play out on the sturdy face before him. First there was that ever-present frown, a pinch of annoyance, probably due to the lack of enthusiasm. But the hard muscles softened as he looked back at Will, undoubtedly seeing nothing but the weakness and the paleness and the imposed vulnerability. “Just know that you are not alone,” Jack said and Will felt a shudder at the kindness that was offered beneath the clumsy conversation. People, they wanted to connect with him. They wanted to be let into his life and touch what lay beyond the veil, drawn in by the pain, the mystery, the helplessness he seemed to excrete. Only one of them had made it to the other side. And that one, he had his own veil, his own barrier that had fallen under Will's touch. He nodded, offering Jack a half-smile as he kicked a lost tennis ball away from his feet. Maybe it belonged to the blond lab, on the other side of the pond. It only rolled a few turns away. Fuck, he was weak.

“I'll be fine,” Will promised the agent with a smile that turned down at the corners, and he quickly pushed his hands in his pockets, his face behind his collar. Ahead of them, he could see the roof of the hospital rising above the treetops and he felt a pull below his bellybutton. “I'm sure you've got bigger fish to fry,” he said offhandedly into his coat, as he tried to stop dragging his feet along the road. At that, Jack clapped his hands together and Will almost jumped at the sudden sound. “Yes, which is also why I came to see you,” the agent confessed with meaningful eyes and Will felt cold, and soaked, and tired, as he swallowed at the fire that suddenly burned bright in Jack's dark eyes. He wanted to be left alone, but he had the feeling there were strings coming out of his back that people kept pulling whenever he tried to find his footing. He blinked when Jack took a rolled up file from the inside of his coat. “I have a murder scene I want you to look at,” he said, undisturbed. “Two adults, two children, shards of mirror in their eyes. It's unmistakably the Tooth Fairy's work and I need you to...”, but Will's blood turned cold at the memory of the pictures Jack had showed him of the previous murder scene. Dead faces, mirror eyes, blood on pale skin.

“No,” he interrupted the agent, the word hitching in his dry mouth as he averted his gaze downwards. Jack paused mid sentence. “No?”, the agent repeated, disbelieving, confused, trying hard not to show his displeasure. Will took his clammy hands from his pockets and wrung them together as he looked at Jack from beneath his damp curls. “I can't. Jack, I'm not ready for that. I'm still...” He stuttered, but Jack shook his head as he opened his hands and softened his stern expression. “I'm not asking anything of you other than to try,” he said, assuringly and confident, as if Will had already given his consent. “Just go in, have a look, see what happens. Nothing more, nothing less.” The sentence ended with a period. Done. Will felt his vision blurring around the edges.

“I'm giving you less. I'm sorry Jack,” Will almost choked, watching dark eyebrows rising in response. Jack closed his eyes briefly, regrouping, as he pressed his lips together. “You don't know if you've lost your talent until you try, Will,” the agent spoke, trying for soothing but succeeding in urging. “Maybe it will be a good distraction...” White foam formed around his Omega's sharp teeth as eyes flashed bright in the dark attic. “A good distraction?”, Will nearly cried, shock now coloring his voice as he watched his own eyebrows coming down into his line of vision. The FBI agent quickly nodded his head sideways, bringing nuance to his words with an impatient hand gesture. “I mean to say that maybe going back to work will take your mind off certain...”

Will clacked his tongue within his tightened jaw. “Nothing good can come of this, Jack. I have no room for another serial killer inside my head,” he said, hurrying his step as they crossed the street. The hospital was a flight of stairs away, and Will felt his hand quivering, his lips trembling. “Not anymore.” Jack met his gaze, but Will could only feel his annoyance, his incomprehension, and looked in the opposite direction instead. He looked right into the building, and felt his ears flow over with the wild rush of a dangerous stream. He was so close. “I see,” Jack replied stiffly. “I'm sorry you feel that way.” But Will could barely hear him. He felt so strongly reeled in from the opposite direction. His legs felt like they didn't belong to him anymore, his insides were boiling, and his vision was washed over with one image only. Hannibal, behind the glass. He could still see how his mate had stared at the ceiling for hours on end, how he had paced from left to right, hands clenched at his sides. Inside, the Omega whimpered, flat on his belly and chin to the floor. His strength was quickly fleeting.

Jack slowed his pace, coming to a halt before the steps of the hospital as he turned to face Will. His hand reached back into his pocket, and this time, he held an envelope between his thick fingers. “Would you at least look at these pictures and tell me what you see,” he said, unfolding the paper and reaching in to pull out a series of colorful images that showed flashes of dirty blond hair, cut, pink flesh, bullet holes, hollow sockets. Will felt the blazing heat within him sealed in by merciless ice that crusted upon his skin. There was nothing there but cold blood and open flesh, lifeless skin, purple and blue and rusty red. Everything hurt. Everything hurt. And Will had nothing left within to fight, or protect.

“No. No, I have to go,” he said, his voice strained in his narrow throat as he took a step away from the gore in Jack's hand. “I have to make a visit.” Jack frowned at the unsteadiness Will knew he radiated, as much in flesh as in mind, as his eyes flashed up to the entrance of the hospital towards which Will's body kept swaying.

“You're meeting with Hannibal?”, he asked him, bewildered, and Will swallowed at the plunge he felt inside his stomach at the name. His breath was shallow, his face was wet, his pain was tight like that of blood streaming back into limbs after hours without circulation. “Yes,” he said, lips jerking around the sound and Jack rubbed his own wrist with his thumb as he stared back at him. “That concerns me,” he repeated himself, superciliously and autiritarian, and Will felt a nauseating stab of anger flare when Jack never lowered the hand that offered the pictures. He quickly shook his head, trying to drown the whimpers of the pleading animal inside him. “The contact between us has to be reduced gradually, for medical reasons,” he spoke the words that had once been spoken to him, impressively so around his quivering insides. His open shrug feigned a casual attitude, but Will knew there was no one left to fool.

“I see,” Jack said, his mouth stern but his eyes openly worried when Will made his way to the stone steps of the stairs with feet that dragged rather than walked. “See you around, Jack,” he said, stumbling on his feet as he tried to walk away with confident steps he didn't have the strength for. Jack regarded him, his eyebrows low on his forehead. “Do you need...?”, he started, trying to step closer to Will as he reached out a helping arm, but Will quickly stepped away. “I'm fine,” he said, knowing he was boarding on sounding hysterical when his voice came out too loud and too high. “We'll talk later.” He turned away, taking another step up before Jack appeared beside him, handing over the envelope with the pictures and pushing them between Will's weak fingers. “Here, show these to Hannibal,” he said. “See if he knows something.”

Will gripped the envelope mindlessly in his hand and went, without looking back, going up, up, up until Jack had disappeared from his vision, far behind his back. “Take care, Will. I'll be in touch,” he heard the booming voice behind his back, but never turned to see him leave. He felt stranded in wild water, dragged down by heavy weight, and he was quickly growing so, so tired. When he reached the door, soaked with sweat, pale with exhaustion, he quickly made his way inside and passed through security without exchanging a single word with any of the guards. They eyed him with concern, but no one commented when he took off his coat and showed his clothes soaked as though he had dived into that duck pond. The pictures in the envelope were handed back to him without a question, and Will briefly wondered how many privileges he had indeed been given.

He walked into the hallway and went straight to the staircase that led down into the basement. He was near stumbling, unsteady, his vision swaying like waves of the ocean. Before he could reach the stairs, someone fell in line with his fast, wobbly steps. “Dennis,” Will nodded when the guard touched his shoulder and slowed him down, by u-turning his body in front of the Omega. “Mr. Graham. Good to see you back so soon, Sir,” the guard said, a smile on his face but concern obvious in his eyes at Will's dazed expression. Will tried to step around him, brushing against the strong shoulder that didn't give way as Dennis' hand came to rest on his collarbone. “Mr. Graham, you can't just...”, the guard spoke, looking straight into Will's red-rimmed eyes. Clear blues darted over Will's wet, pasty skin, his twitching muscles, his quivering lips and Dennis breathed sharply through his nose.

“I'll arrange a visit, right away, Sir,” he said, reaching for the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Or do you wish for something else? I could call Alana...” But Will's breath hitched as his knees buckled under his weight. His feet felt numb in his shoes, like he had been sitting on them for too long. “No,” he said between his teeth, pushing the air out with all his might. Dennis didn't ask any more, but instead talked into his walkie talkie, turning away as he mumbled some instructions to restrain Hannibal Lecter. “Walk with me,” he spoke right after, his hand never leaving Will's back, supporting the anemic Omega as he led him down the stairs.

And the walk was familiar, fresh in his memory from only the other day. He knew the corridors, he knew the rows of glass and the leering vermin on the other side. But while the scent of sweat and piss and vomit swept through the isolated space, Will could only smell the expanding trail of fire and snow that beckoned. And he wasn't turning away, or hesitant. His mind had melted to nothing but its core, and there was only one remaining need. Regrets were for later, but his survival counted now.

Before the door was opened, Will already had his cheek pressed against the cold steel and his quivering fingers scratching the surface. Inside, he heard his mate breathing a low roar, and he felt Dennis' hand on his shoulders as he clicked open the lock. “Easy. Stay calm,” he warned Will with a soothing whisper and opened the door.

And inside, Will saw everything.

Hannibal's hands were bound with sturdy cuffs through the glass holes. His back was towards him, but his head was already whipped to the side as his nostrils flared. On the outside, he was still and calm, controlled, but Will could feel the waves of heat pounding off of his tense shoulders. “Hello Will,” he spoke calmly the moment the Omega put a foot over the threshold. The scent, the sound, it was enough to make them both feel light in their limbs and heavy in their core, and before their eyes could even meet, Will could already feel his head rolling loosely on his shoulders from the melting tension in his back. Within the cell were three guards, all holding Hannibal at gunpoint. One was beside Dennis, while the other two were inside the glass prison with the Alpha.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Dennis answered for him, his voice polite, if not a little wavering. He was nervous, standing so close to the criminal, Will knew. Hannibal moved his head to the other side, just enough to catch the eyes of the guard. “Dennis. Thank you for bringing in my Omega,” he spoke pleasantly, and Will tensed when he saw his Alpha's temple painted with dark purple veins. Dennis fingered the gun on his belt. “I will let him into your cell, but I need you to be calm. You will not move until the door is closed and your cuffs have been taken off, do you understand?” The blond guard spoke, as he held on to Will's shoulder. “Calm,” he repeated in Will's direction and the Omega nodded mindlessly without taking his eyes off his mate. “Certainly,” Hannibal said, and Will's stomach fluttered so hard he was happy to have skipped breakfast.

Then, there was a hand on his arm leading him in. With all guns drawn, Will stepped inside the cell and came into the line of vision of his Alpha, chained to the wall he was resting his back against. And fuck, the amber set him alight in an instant. His Omega roared back to life at the nearness and the needles in his bloodstream shriveled at the sight. Will heard himself moan openly at the bliss that filled him, and not once could he find himself to care. Hannibal in turn, growled low in his throat and curled his upper lip.

“Easy,” Dennis warned again as he released Will with a squeeze to his shoulder and backed out of the cell with the other guards as they kept their guns pointed at Hannibal. Will stayed put, even when everyone had moved to the other side of the glass and the door was safely shut. He watched Hannibal with eyes that wouldn't focus as life spread slowly into his dying flesh. Hannibal stayed still, waiting patiently as they clicked the handcuffs from his wrists, and brought his arms back out, holding them to his body. He looked thinner, frailer then ever, and his fiery glow of bronze had turned a pasty white that hid the scars on his skin. He too was a pallet of whites and grays, reds and blues. The heavy door closed, and they were alone. They were as alone as anyone could be with that red dot in the corner of the ceiling pressing down upon them.

Will would have taken a moment to think of Molly, had he found her within whatever was left of him in that moment, but instead he stepped forward, slowly raising out an arm to reach for the one thing that could make it all better. His mate, his Alpha. Hannibal. “Hannibal,” he heard himself break, his voice raw as he took another step closer, bringing up the other arm beside his body. And he was there, like a wrecking ball. Within the second, strong arms came to catch him, hold him, cocoon and shelter him as a warm, solid body pressed entirely to his own. And they both whimpered, they both moaned, they both cried in relief when the ceiling of their mental prison came down and brought back the sun and the warmth and the light. The pain was gone. The beasts purred like kittens.

A searching nose nudged against Will's throat as the Omega rubbed his face against Hannibal's temple and folded his arms tight around his shoulders. Inside him, the splinters of his bones were restored seamlessly, as his skin, once overheated and raw, now sang with a perfect, supple fit. He felt swallowed whole in their embrace and heard a sob coming from his own throat when broad hands rubbed gently along the length of his back. “I have you,” Hannibal rumbled in his ear, the words like liquid love, pouring over the empty, hollow ache in his chest.

Hannibal had all of him.