He’s at the grocers buying Fruit Loops when he feels like someone steps over his grave. Hannibal shivers and clutches the cereal close, closes his eyes wondering what sort of weird ass thing is going on now.
But whatever it is, which smells a little like cinnamon in the back of his brain, doesn’t explain itself for six months and he forgets about it.
There’s a moment in the Doctor’s office, right after he sees the man’s body on the floor, where Drake is scary as fuck with his hand wrapped around his throat and the room seems to freeze up. Not just because he’s pretty sure he’s about to die horribly, but because Drake’s palm pressed to his skin seems to set off some kind of chemical reaction in his blood. He doesn’t understand it and for a moment he’s not afraid.
Drake makes some kind of sniffing noise and Abby reaches for a knife and that’s when Drake grabs one of Hannibal’s own stakes and stabs him with it.
Somehow after that… thing… He felt, getting stabbed is an even bigger shock than it normally would be.
He wakes up in the infirmary to a dead man standing over his bed. It takes a minute for that to make sense and by the time he realizes its Drake there’s a hand over his mouth- he passes out to the sound of people screaming and the scent of cinnamon thick in his sinuses.
When Hannibal wakes up this time he’s chained to the floor and Danika, Asher, and Drake are arguing in the corner.
“I told you what I want.” Drake snarls at her.
Danika recoils a little, trying to be ballsy in the face of someone you can’t really be ballsy at. Hannibal would try but he feels…weird. His chest hurts where the stake was, and he’s kind of dizzy. Probably from being choked out.
“But we need him.” Danika retorts, hands on her hips. “He knows- things.” Which sounds half assed even to Hannibal’s ears.
“Sweetie-“ Asher starts to say, and Drake’s low growl shuts him up.
“This is not a request, he is mine.” Drake snaps, sounding extremely final and Hannibal presses his face more into the floor because he’s pretty sure he knows who they’re arguing about. And the little tiny used-to-be a vampire part of him is like ‘yay’ about having a new master.
The human part has a few more reservations about the whole thing.
“Fine.” Danika huffs. She picks at her nails a moment, then stamps her heels. “He’s not the one. He can’t be. He’s just some human-“ She shrugs. “I don’t care. Do what you want.” And she stomps off in her little heels, Asher following like the bitch he is.
Someone comes over and sits down near him and he doesn’t look up because he’s pretty sure it’s Drake and he’s pretty sure that’s a bad thing. Especially since he’s only wearing his pants and that damn bandage and the manacles. That adds up to vampire Christmas, if he remembers right. And that also makes him the present in the metaphor. Not good.
“I can tell you’re awake.” Drake says, in that gravel and dark chocolate voice and Hannibal just stays still and down like maybe he can’t be seen then. “The others slaughtered your companions but I have the little girl safe.”
Hannibal looks up at that. “Zoe?”
Drake nods and studies Hannibal’s face intently. “Who was the last person you laid with?”
Hannibal chokes at the question. “Are you serious?”
“You smell like-“ Drake starts to say, then shakes his head. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. Some chick at a bar, like two weeks ago.” Hannibal admits, kind of aggravated that he actually answers the question. “I took a shower though. Several.”
“Mmmm.” Drake says, leaning just a little bit closer. “Give me your hand.”
“No.” Hannibal retorts, immediately, scrambling up to a sitting position because that’s just a little too vulnerable. “Hell no.” Because he’s not letting some crazy ubervamp snap his hands off when it’s not like they’ll grow back or reattach or anything.
Drake reaches out anyway, sliding his fingers underneath Hannibal’s surprisingly gently, lifting his hand like a gentleman would in one of those old black and white films. The manacle makes a lot of jittery-chimey noise and Drake turns Hannibal’s hand over, palm up and he nuzzles it, eyes closed and breathing hard. Hannibal recognizes it from the good old days as scenting, especially when Drake winds up sniffing at his wrist, cheek pressed hard into the thin skin there.
“What are you-“
Drake licks him, eyes slitting open. “Mmmm.” Drake almost purrs. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Hannibal is almost afraid to ask.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Drake says, grinning. “For a long time.”
“You were asleep.” Hannibal retorts.
“Because I couldn’t find you.” Drake replies. He’s up and gone from the room in the blink of an eye, leaving Hannibal feeling confused and maybe a little scared. An ass kicking he could deal with. He’s sure Abby and Blade are coming for him- they’re going to, especially with Zoe here too. But whatever Drake has in mind, whatever he means by all the sniffing and smiling at him that is so totally not an ass kicking.
He pretends he wasn’t cowering when Drake storms back through the door, key in hand. Drake is a little too gentle getting the cuffs off and that’s when Hannibal sort of clues in. Or it might have been Asher leering in the doorway.
“Oh hey.” He says, and Drake actually pauses unlocking his other hand to look at him. “I don’t know what Asher told you, but I am so not like that.”
Asher chuckles and Hannibal’s skin crawls just a little.
“Can you walk?” Drake asks, dropping the second cuff to the floor.
“Yeah.” Hannibal snaps, then wobbles like a drunk once he’s on his feet. Drake catches hold of him, one arm around his waist, holding him just a little too close, and sling’s Hannibal’s arm around his shoulders. He’s a little surprised he’s not just being flung over the man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Asher takes a step forward when they get to the door and Drake actually growls at him, which makes the idiot shoot his hands up in the air and back away like he’s got half a brain.
They’re in the elevator with the memory of Danika powerlessly glowering at him when Hannibal realizes he’s been zoning out on what’s going on here. For whatever reason Drake has decided he wants him, Hannibal, and now they’re going upstairs while everyone else waits downstairs…
His mind tries to skitter away again, but it’s kind of hard to forget when Drake is right there, taking up all the space next to him.
“What do you want?” Hannibal brings himself to ask, because sometimes you have to pick your battles. Wounded like he is and unarmed, with Zoe to think about, he’s got no business making a stand against Drake. Not when it can get the little girl killed.
“You.” Drake replies, succinctly.
The door dings open on a little sitting room where Zoe is watching TV next to a knight’s armor, a stack of books on the sofa next to her. She doesn’t look terrified or mistreated, but…
“Hannibal!” The girl cheers, shooting up from her seat. She sees Drake and glares at him a little, but there’s not enough… anything… in it for him to think Drake hurt her. Thank god for small favors and he nearly collapses at that. “Are you alright?”
“He’ll be fine.” Drake replies, shuffling him out of the elevator and across the room, to another door.
“Stay put, Zoe.” Hannibal says. “Be good.” Because that might be all that keeps her alive.
Drake guides him into the next room, which is fit for a King even though there are no bear rugs on the floor or harem girls. Hannibal wants to be more disappointed about that, but Danika isn’t here so it’s pretty good by his standards.
“Will you let her go?” Hannibal asks, voice low. He’s giving away everything, but he can’t not ask. She’s only a child. Drake shrugs against him. “Please.” And he even stares at the floor when he says it.
“Where will she go? Her mother is dead.” Drake says, without clarifying that he’s the one who killed her.
“Please. Just let her go. My friends can take care of her.” Hannibal bargains, watches his feet against the carpet. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“’Whatever’?” Drake asks, sounding faintly amused. “I’d like you to take a shower.”
That’s a simple enough place to start, he guesses and nods. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Drake half leads, half carries him in there- it’s a monstrosity of money and black marble and Drake leaves him propped up against the wall while he goes to get- something. He keeps his mind away from that and turns the knobs for the hot water. He’s drenched before he even gets his pants off- the fact that they’re sticking doesn’t help but neither do all the aches and pains. Afterward, once he’s kicked them off and is very, very carefully not contemplating how much this is probably going to hurt he presses his face to the cold marble wall and keeps his eyes closes, awaiting his fate.
Which is apparently to be scrubbed down by Drake’s bare hands and a handful of scentless soap. He figures Drake can still smell the girl from the nightclub, or Abby, or something and he’s just getting him clean because he can’t stand it but the longer the wash goes on and the more the hands seem to be worshipping him, the harder it is to keep that in mind. Drake’s fingers are strong and as they find their way around all the knots in his shoulders Hannibal has to bite his lip not to make a sound. Those same hands scrub down his arms, link fingers with him, press against the pulse in his wrist curiously.
Drake runs his mouth across his shoulder, rumbling the entire time like a drunk cat. Hannibal ducks his head for the bite, thinking of Zoe and trying to be compliant.
“What are you afraid of?” Drake asks, leaning in, trapping him between the marble and his hard body.
“Just get it over with.” He grates out and Drake goes as still as a statue.
“There’s no need to hurry.” Drake assures him, sounding amused. “And you’re wounded.” Drake slips a hand between the wall and Hannibal’s chest, pressing him back into Drake’s body, running his fingers around the sopping bandage.
“Easy access.” Hannibal snaps. He’s only going to be able to keep his courage up for so long before he breaks and that’s when Zoe is in danger. “Just- just fuck me already.”
Drake’s low growl or purr or whatever it is kicks up a notch at that and he mouths at the side of Hannibal’s throat wetly. “I’d like you to drink my blood first.” Drake says, pushing Hannibal around, so they’re face to face, and then there’s no room to be ignoring what Drake wants from him. Hannibal keeps his eyes shut, even when he hears fangs biting through flesh and a wrist is pressed to his lips. Blood drips around his mouth, runs down his chin and over his throat and Drake laps at it, chasing it. He gives in, takes a little taste, feeling sick to his stomach for betraying his cure like this. After that he can hardly think, because Drake’s blood makes Danika’s taste like cheap club soda in comparison to chocolate milk. The Ovaltine kind.
And then he realizes Drake tastes like cinnamon and he’s dizzy and, oh god, does he want sex right the hell now. Better than that, he wants sex with Drake.
“What-“ He gasps. “What the hell-“ And he presses his face right back to the closing wound, wanting to gnaw on it and knows that’s rude. Drake chuckles, darkly amused, the fingers tracing Hannibal’s wound carefully picking the bandage away and stroking over too sensitive newly healed skin.
“Now you feel it.” Drake murmured, fingers sliding from the wound to a nipple and twisting hard enough he earned a suffering groan from Hannibal. “You feel what I feel, the need for it…”
“’It’ what?” Thinking was hard. Harder than when he’d been a teenager and he realized he was sort of grinding on Drake, which was rude, only the man’s thigh was right there. Right. There. And Drake was watching, like he was a work of art, and oh man, they were both covered in water.
He grabbed at Drake’s shoulders, thumbs pressing against his collar bone, watched Drake grin under his touch.
“To mate.” Drake admitted, leaning in, crushing Hannibal back against the wall and forcing a moan out of him- just before he silenced him with a kiss that had just a little too much biting in it. Though Hannibal seemed starved for it, nipping at his lips and half growling, hands clawlike against Drake’s back, raking over muscles and tight skin.
“You have to fuck me.” Hannibal gasped when the kiss broke then leaned down to bite at the skin under Drake’s chin, feeling him swallow. “Right now.” And he rode up against Drake’s thigh to prove his point.
“Of course.” Drake replied, reaching only far enough away for what was hopefully conditioner. He rubbed a slick handful of it down Hannibal’s spine, pressing fingers hard down his crack, and Hannibal groaned, baring his teeth in a grimace and wanting more, now, harder.
“Come on, come on.” He hissed, almost clawing at Drake’s shoulders, feeling the short stubble of his hair. He ducked his head, feeling those too strong fingers, brushing his forehead back and forth across Drake’s chest in distress, whimpering. “Please.”
Drake pressed a dry kiss to his temple, strong hands catching him against the back of his thighs, pulling him up- making him think of all the girls he’d taken in dark alleys and nightclub bathrooms- shoving him back against the cold marble wall, and Hannibal hitched his legs around Drake’s waist, groaning hard, needing it, feeling want and lust buzz around under his skin and in his blood like bees. Drake thrust in, shoving him back into the marble harder and Hannibal sobbed, throwing his head back and ignoring the sudden stars in his vision.
“Was looking for you,” Drake was saying, groaning to him, words almost lost in the steam of the shower and the thrusting of their bodies. “Wanted you- Smelled your blood and your sweat on the night air-“ He mouthed at Hannibal’s throat, across his collar bone leaving a trail of dark bruises in his wake, sucking the skin over Hannibal’s Adam’s apple, feeling his groans against his lips.
Hannibal came, almost struggling against Drake, especially when Drake pulled him back from the wall, one hand on his cock, smearing water and come as he jerked him, keeping him hard. He buried his head In Drake’s shoulder, clutching at him, begging. “Please. Please. Please.” Wanting him to stop, and to never stop touching him, feeling like he was being held to a dark star, the very center of the vampire universe and then Drake tumbled them down onto the bed, pulling away only long enough to turn Hannibal onto his hands and knees, shoving his face down into the sheets and thrusting back into him. “I can’t-“
“You will.” Drake threatened, covering him with his body, shifting his hips until Hannibal was sinking his teeth into his forearm and the pillow, needing to come again, already. “You’ll come for me as many times as I want.”
“Oh, god, please.” Hannibal thrust his head to the side, baring his throat, and felt more than heard Drake’s pleased laugh. Felt Drake lick up the side of his throat, into the edge of his hair, and shoved himself back into Drake’s thrusts, liking his satisfied rumble. “Do it!” He snarled.
Drake bit him and Hannibal collapsed, elbows and knees going out from under him, feeling all of Drake’s weight pressing him flat, warmth spreading inside him, the bite like a curse and a blessing at the same time, and he came thrusting into the sheets. Drake pulled back from his throat, purring, and rubbed his chin and throat across Hannibal’s shoulders like a cat.
“Knew you’d be perfect.” He rumbled, and Hannibal hid his face in the sheets, pretending he wasn’t basking in the praise.