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Tonight on the eve of the Hunter’s moon, the clans were meeting like they always did and always had since the beginning when the first vampire rose from out of the earth to reach for the night sky with blood stained hands. It was to celebrate the First of their kind, the Mother of Hours, she who thwarted the advances of time and made Death her servant. She who slept deep in the cold earth again by her own volition, arising again some day to feast upon the world like an open vein. Until that fateful night to end all, her children met with one another to keep the peace, to preen, and make alliances and enemies alike. Eternity was so dull without either of the latter.

Not that Hannibal would know of such things. True, he was well acquainted with enemies, attempting to make them as frequent as possible, but even more so with boredom. In all his centuries though, he had yet to find another worthy enough to call ‘friend’. Like he had done time and time again, Hannibal dressed for the Court of the Timeless in his finest, cladding his pale body in an armor of knotted silk, slick satin, and the finest wool, cotton, and leather humanity had to offer. He needed no other protection.

With age came power for their kind and so few could claim Hannibal’s wealth of years. It was believed that he was among her first children, one of the few vampires to have ever laid eyes on the Mother of Hours. It was a rumor he neither confirmed or denied, letting others come to their own conclusions, most of which were foolish. The truth was so much more than whatever tripe they came up with and far more valuable as a secret, one that Hannibal would probably take to the end of his existence without whispering a hint of it to another soul.

With age though also came a certain kind of loneliness, one even unique for his kind. Vampires were a strange sort of predator that valued their solitude and viciously guarded territory yet sought its own kind’s company despite all those instincts. Hence the practice of keeping a coven in a clan of fickle killers.

The leader of the coven was often its creator, that vampire the master of his progeny through advanced age, power, and control of the blood that flowed through their veins. Many of the lasting covens, the ones that survived all the backbiting and inner treachery, were named and represented by their crest at the Court of Hours.

The Murder of Crows belonged to Jack and Bella Crawford, the pair as steadfastly married in undeath as they were in life. Between them, the husband and wife due lead one of the clans that controlled most of the Northeast, their base of operations in Quantico. Their clan served the court as its version of police, carrying out the law of their kind. Though their number was many, three lieutenants were often seen at court with the Crawfords. From what little he knew of trio, Hannibal found that he was actually quite fond of Beverly Katz, the vampire young but spirited, though he loathed Zeller and found Price quite dull. As an advisor to this coven, Hannibal got along well enough with the Crows, Crawford calling upon the older vampire for advice in when certain matters that arose, ones that needed a delicate touch and more experienced insight.

Bedelia Du Maurier was a closer associate of Hannibal’s as well as the leader of the Parliament of Owls. This clan ruled over the rest as much as one could. Controlling vampires was much like herding cats, so close ties and alliances were formed between the Crows and Owls, as much out of necessity as survival. Their territories ran parallel with the Crow’s own with Virginia, Maryland, and DC as their places of power. Bedelia was supported by her favored children. Clarice Starling, Alana Bloom, and Abigail Hobbs were frequent faces at court, the daughters of midnight all grace, beauty, and shrewd cunning that hid fangs and strange venom that killed painfully slow.

The Wake of Vultures would be there as well, much to Hannibal’s distaste. Chilton with his despicable children Abel Gideon, Freddie Lounds, and Miggs in tow always drew ire from the ancient vampire though he kept it hidden well. He realized that their existence was a necessary thing though, the same way that indoor plumbing was needed to move excrement away from where one ate. Their positions in the world of living were medical and media professions, keeping the vampire’s existence hidden. Their base of operations was the Baltimore State Hospital of the Criminally Insane.

When people needed to be removed with extreme prejudice or they just needed some entertainment, the enforcers of the clans were called upon. The Unkindness of Ravens were only two vampires, but that was more than enough. Considered savage brutes by all, Buffalo Bill and the Tooth Fairy were seldom seen in person, but their brand of destruction and madness was clear as the daylight none of them could tolerate.

Known by all, but apart of none, Hannibal Lecter was the Lone Wolf, the Pack of None. A devil even among other sinners, Hannibal was unique, grotesquely so to his own kind. He was an eater of the dead, feasting upon the flesh of his victim instead of living off their pulse, that crimson nectar that flowed through the living. A king without a throne, reviled yet honored and recognized by all, Hannibal claimed the city of Baltimore as his territory making a name for himself among the mortals there as the Chesapeake Killer.

The clans tended to frown on his flair for the dramatic and need to stage his kills, but there was very little that they could do about it. The way Hannibal transformed his food into art could never be equated to a vampire attack so their secret was safe. Even if they tried, he was also far too powerful for them to move against, though Freddie seemed to take a particular delight in making his art sound as lewd as possible on her little trash news website.

On this fair night bathed beautiful in silver, Hannibal was supposed to join his kind ill met by moonlight. Feeling the cold night air snap uselessly at his frigid skin, the ancient vampire found he couldn’t bring himself to do so, wandering where he willed instead. Lost in thought, Hannibal traveled along roads on swift feet that no human could ever hope to follow, his presence a fast moving shade that caused people to shiver and huddle closer when it moved past or over them.

Traveling with no real direction or goal in mind, Hannibal kept this up until he ran out pf pavement, his impromptu journey taking him into fields and woods of rural Virginia. The vampire only bothered to start paying attention again to his surroundings when he came upon the tiny town of Wolf Trap. Usually he would have never bothered to waste his time in such a place, but when a meal presented itself so vividly who was Hannibal to deny it its death.

Hannibal did not understand human’s love for drinking mass amounts of alcohol which essentially poisoned them, and then making the decision to drive while intoxicated. He did know that killing as defenseless animal out of spiteful pleasure and not out of need for food was crass behavior, his sharp eyes studying the drunk’s gleeful face after the man intentionally hit a stray dog in the road. The vampire followed the swerving vehicle easily enough as the driver drove further into the dark and deep forests of Virginia, down lonely, unlit back roads.

Running ahead of the truck, Hannibal decided to end this man’s life at an empty crossroads, the vampire liking the symbolism of it. Apparently another did as well.

A slight movement in the forest’s gloom stayed Hannibal long enough to keep him still as his intended prey was killed by another. The drunk’s truck was struck as he ran the crossroad’s stop sign, the force of the attack flipping the vehicle like it were a tinker toy. The sturdy frame of the truck saved the driver, but did little to protect stunned man from the creature that tore him out of his seatbelt and through his side window screaming.

What interested Hannibal was that it did not appear to be another vampire or even a werewolf, which were more common in these parts than one would think. Of all creatures great and small, mostly unlikely of all was a wendigo, a nightmare made real claiming Hannibal’s dinner for its own.

Pulling night around him to hide in plain sight, Hannibal studied the wicked creature who seemed to be taking great joy in slowly murdering the drunk by breaking all of his bones one by one. It started with his toes and fingers, all the time moving inwardly until the man‘s torso was cracked wide open ruby and ivory as a pomegranate.

A wendigo was a true rarity even to the children of the night. They were created, not born, much like a vampire. Unlike a vampire who needed only an exchange of blood in the moment of death, wendigos were humans transformed into Other through cannibalism and a kind of necromancy that was supposedly long forgotten. They were an anomaly that humans, Others and everything in between preferred not to deal with, the wendigo a monster forever alone even among the supernatural. Due to being the world’s pariah, their powers and strengths were undefined, and their weaknesses were basically unknown, which made them all the more dangerous.

That last thought held a certain appeal to it, Hannibal revealing himself, but keeping a distance between them. He was curious, not foolish.

“Good evening.” Hannibal announced himself when it became obvious that the wendigo was more intent on playing with its food than paying attention to its surroundings. His words made the wendigo reel back hissing, its front covered wetly in the drunk’s blood, arterial spray dripping from its antlers like strange rain.

Its posturing gave Hannibal the opportunity to openly study the creature. The wendigo’s feet looked like that of a deer‘s, its cloven hooves barely making a sound to even Hannibal’s honed ears. Unlike a fawn though, the fur ended at the ankles giving way to skin as black as pitch and shiny as a raven’s wing. The creature’s body was all smooth surfaces looking made of carved black marble, the angles of its body sharp with lithe muscle laid out over a jagged bone structure. Its smooth flaccid cock hung thick and heavy between its thighs, like strange midnight fruit.

A magnificent pair of antlers grew from its glossy head, the points of bone black and looking sharp to the touch. The only color other the wendigo held in its being other than smoke and ink seemed to be contained in the wet red of its tongue, the gleaming white of its fangs, and the silvery blue of its glowing eyes, like pools of molten metal that glared at him. When it continued to hiss in answer, it occurred belated to Hannibal that the wendigo may be incapable of speech, lacking the mental facilities for it.

“That was terribly rude….stealing my pig like that. Not even a ‘please’, ‘thank you’, or a ‘hello’ for taking what was mine.” Hannibal sighed at it. He hated lost causes, sources of amusement few and far between for him. Debating with himself on whether or not he should kill the wendigo, Hannibal came to the decision that he might as well try to capture it first. It might be fun for a time to keep it as a pet. He could always kill it later on if it bored him.

“I didn’t see your name on him.” was the surprising enough answer, making Hannibal regard the wendigo with an almost open stare, which was about as close to surprise as he got. His sanguine eyes was met tentatively by icy silvery blue orbs that were piercing in their intelligence but wandered in their wary nature. Having stated that, the wendigo made no move to reclaim its prize or speak further with him.

“What’s done is done. One can’t lament over spilled blood.” Hannibal fought to keep his delight off of his face. His new pet was proving itself to be interesting after all.

“You didn’t expect me to talk. You’re practically giddy about it though. Why is that?” the wendigo snorted in what sounded like disgust at Hannibal, the mixture of contempt and dark humor palpable. The wendigo hadn’t been expecting a lot out of the vampire, but the fact he was talking to him when no other would was worth sticking around for a little bit. It wasn’t often he got to be sociable.

“How did you know that?” Hannibal didn’t bother with the little games he would usually play with other creatures. This being merited his directness. He also didn’t like it that this wendigo could peek behind his mask without even seeming to try.

“I can read you like an open book and you’re terribly written. All your truths and lies lay just behind your eyes like chapter headings.” the wendigo had the audacity to sound bored with him. Hannibal didn’t know whether to feel intrigued or murderous about this, the vampire running his tongue over his bottom lip before following it with his teeth.

“Then you’ll know I am sincere when I say I wish to speak with you.” Hannibal told the wendigo, changing tactics. That brought the creature up short.

“Why would you want to do that?” the wendigo asked, clearly baffled. He couldn’t even remember a time where anything wanted to do such a thing. Fae fled from him, shifters tended to attack him on sight, the undead usually ignored him, and humans were a mixed bag of reactions ranging from disbelief to open horror with firearms sometimes involved in that somewhere.

“Let us start again. I am Count Hannibal Lector, the Wolf and Ripper of Baltimore.” Hannibal introduced himself formally to be met with dead silence from the wendigo.

“And your name?” He prompted to watch the wendigo shift as if in pain, the creature clearly uncomfortable.

“I don’t have a name. Not anymore.” the wendigo muttered, stamping its hooves in irritation. He could only remember his life as a human in bits and pieces, sometimes in dreams, but never clearly. He knew that he had like fishing, maybe…or had been a fisherman at some point. That and he liked dogs, felt very protective of them. Case in point, the bag of broken meat that had once been a person cooling beside them. “To become what I am, you have to give it up. That’s the price you pay for becoming fear.”

“What do others call you then?” Hannibal tried to have the wendigo turn to leave his presence, clearly irritated. The vampire moved quickly to intersect it before the wendigo could escape.

“There are no others. I’ll remind you that my kind is shunned. No one speaks to a wendigo.” the creature growled, lowering its antlers menacingly at Hannibal. He didn’t want to fight the vampire. He could tell it was older than dirt, and in vampire terms, that meant power. As far as the wendigo knew, so was he….old that is. He had walked this earth for far longer than he cared to remember or admit aloud. If they fought, it would be long and bloody. The wendigo knew that they would be well matched, too much so.

“Except for me?” Hannibal smile, slow and wicked, his point hitting home better than any physical blow. The wendigo stepping back was proof enough of that.

“Expect for you.” the wendigo conceded, looking weary and sour about it. He tried to decide if the vampire was insane, bored, or both. He was betting on both.

“I would like to continue to do so. How may I address you?” Hannibal practically purred the words so that his accent made them honey to the ear. He couldn’t have his new plaything running off just yet, not when it was just starting to become truly interesting.

“I don’t care. Call me whatever you want.” the wendigo snapped, unsure how they had gotten to this point. Most anything else either avoided him or ignored his existence all together so he couldn’t understand why this vampire was even deigning to talk to him, other than to mock or kill him. He could feel and see the power Hannibal carried within him, ancient and potent, and wondered what his motive could be for all this.

“How you do feel about the name William?” Hannibal said after a moment of thought on the matter. He had been close personal friends with Shakespeare, and he had a feeling that the Bard would approve. Puck would have also been appropriate, but William seemed somehow more fitting for the wendigo.

“I like Will better. William sounds too formal.” the wendigo nodded slowly, warming up to the idea of having a name after all this time. He knew it had been a while, but trees, animals, and dirt had little use for such things so he hadn’t cared.

“Very well. Will it is then.” Hannibal agreed, willing to make allowances in the matter if it helped him continue this conversation. “Are you hungry, Will?”

“I’m always hungry. It is in my design to be so.” Will shrugged. Despite himself, he found that he liked how his new name sounded when spoken by another. It sparked honesty from him. “I believe vampires are cursed with something similar.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean we can’t share the kill. If you have patience, I can create a feast out of the pig you’ve torn apart.” Hannibal offered, already salivating at the thought of it. To have a proper dinner, one where he didn’t have to hide his nature in any aspect, with another being would be a rare treasure

“I thought vampires…” Will started to say, gesturing vaguely with inky black claws to the corpse and all the spilled blood soaking into the ground. To any other vampire, this would have been a tragic waste.

“Normally. You will find that I am unique in that regard. Much like yourself.” Hannibal allowed. This creature had elevated itself from mere distraction to pet to dining companion all in the course of one conversation. Hannibal wasn’t one to give out information but some allowances could be made in this case. It did not get the reaction he wanted though.

“So you are as alone as I am then. Is that why you wanted to speak with me? Misery loves company?” Will rose to his impressive full height to glare down at Hannibal. It was imposing, the wendigo standing well over eight feet tall with his crown of antlers. Hannibal refrained himself from applauding, lest he ruin the effect.

“Perhaps I merely wanted to some companionable dinner conversation.” Hannibal back pedaled, hoping the offer of food would appeal, if company did not. It seemed to do the trick, the wendigo relaxing its posture again, looking almost shy in its hesitancy.

“You can do better than me. I’ve not really the chatty sort…” Will grumbled, his eyes more tracking the patterns in the dirt than Hannibal now. “….or that companionable for that matter.”

“Don’t belittle yourself. You’re doing fine.” Hannibal soothed, wanting to run his hands over that strange black skin to see if it were cool as his own dead flesh. He managed to hold back though, Will looking as skittish as the deer he emulated.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to eat this jackass in the middle of the road.” Will sighed. This was a horrible idea, but Will knew he would regret it if he passed up this chance. When was the last time he had sat down to eat anything with another being in a civil manner? No instance immediately sprang to his mind.

“That would be safe to think that. I don’t care for the taste of gravel embedded in my meat.” Hannibal said, coming to a decision, one that he rarely offered to another. “I would like to invite you to my home.”

“Said the spider to the fly.” Will snorted, looking vaguely amused by the invitation. Now he was absolutely certain it was a horrible idea and yet Will knew he was still going to go along with it. The vampire’s appearance was a little gaudy in his opinion, but still very appealing and easy on the eyes. Hannibal had been turned a little later in life than most vampires, but Will thought the age worked in the man’s favor. It gave Hannibal a gravitas that most vampires seemed to lack.

“Lovely. You’re well read then.” Hannibal said. He wasn’t disappointed by the wendigo’s reluctance. It was a smart move on his part, and Hannibal respected him more for it.. One should never trust a monster just because it says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

“Oh you think you’re charming, don’t you?” Will was surprised into laughter, the noise of it rough and disused. He would never admit it aloud, but the vampire’s strange nature was rubbing him wrong and right in strange adverse ways. He didn’t know if he wanted to keep talking to the vampire, or rip his throat out and chew off his lying lips.

“I may have been told such a thing once or twice.” Hannibal smiled. He was unsure of what was happening between them, unfamiliar with this type of levity, but he liked it. It seemed to come naturally while conversing to this creature.

“I don’t find you that interesting.” Will told him dryly, the lie sounding flat to the both of them.

“You will. Let me cook for you.” Hannibal pressed, choosing to walk over to the body to see if Will would follow him. The wendigo did not disappoint.

“Will I have to wear pants?” the vampire heard Will sigh out the question in defeat. The taste of victory was as sweet as freshly seared meat in his fanged mouth.

“I do hold my guests somewhat to a dress code so yes.” Hannibal said, slinging the corpse over this shoulder. He would have liked a tarp or plastic sheeting to save his outfit, but he had closet full of suits. The sacrifice would be well worth it though, and good company was far harder to find than clothing, even if that company desperately needed a bath and a pair of pants.

“Fine.” Will spit out the word like any agreement with Hannibal was a bitter mouthful of poison.

“Then you’ll come.” Hannibal said, not bothering to make it a question.

“Yeah, if you want to loan me some clothing.” Will grumbled, gesturing down to his nudity like Hannibal could have missed it.

“I would be more than happy to. Follow me then.” the vampire couldn’t help but grin. The Court of the Timeless be damned, this was the most fun he’d had in a over a century, and the night was still young. “Can you keep up?”

“No idea. Let’s find out.” Will smirked. Without warning, Hannibal took off, the sound of a second pair of footsteps made by cloven hooves never too far behind his own.


Chapter Text

It came as no surprise to the wendigo now named as Will to find himself being lead through the richer suburbs of Baltimore. Will followed Hannibal to a house big enough to be called a mansion, the pair keeping to the rooftops to escape notice from the living.

The wendigo also wasn’t surprised to learn that Hannibal had a hidden entrance built into the top of his home. Most humans tended not to look up or down, and their vision was extremely poor at night, especially when compared to a supernatural’s own. Even if a person had noticed that something was amiss, Will and Hannibal with body thrown over shoulder were moving too fast to be seen clearly, the pair alighting upon rooftops as softly as spirits joyriding the wind.

Upon entering, Will had to crouch down to avoid scraping the hell out of Hannibal’s ceilings with his antlers. A gentle snow of plaster dusted Will whenever he forgot, the proof of his inattention standing out starkly against his inky skin. Grimacing, the wendigo brushed off his shoulders. To his dismay, more than just plaster came off of his skin, little bits of the dead drunk and general ick going along with it.

“Perhaps you would like to bathe.” Hannibal suggested without really doing so. It was definitely an order if Will had ever heard one. Smirking at the vampire who would have looked calm to anyone else, Will stalked over to the bathroom shone to him by his irritated host. Before entering, the wendigo purposely raised his head up just enough to graze the plaster, making it shed itself over Hannibal. Will wondered if the vampire knew he ground his teeth when he was annoyed.

“I have robes that might fit you.” Hannibal said, more to himself as he took in the wendigo’s angular, irregular figure of sharp bone and wiry hard muscle, the creature standing out harshly against all the white marble.

“Just set out what you want me to wear. Whatever you choose, I assure you it will fit.” Will smiled, the expression all sharp teeth. It did the trick though, the expression telling Hannibal that the wendigo knew something the vampire did not.

“Very well. Please make yourself at home then. Join me when you are done. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Hannibal nodded, giving his guest some privacy after he selected something quickly from his closets. It was an older suit of his, though still a lovely creation of blue fabric. He had no idea what the wendigo had in mind, but the dark and light blues would contrast nicely with Will’s pitch black skin even if his body would tear the fabric apart whenever he moved.

Waiting until the clothing had been delivered to him and his host properly occupied, Will began his cleanse, the moist noise of bones breaking and popping out of place filling the small space to echo off of tiled walls.


The drunk was easy enough to butcher considering most of his blood had already been drained, his skeleton shattered, and his torso torn nearly in half down the middle. The chest cavity was a little barren from Will eating most of the organs before Hannibal had decided to introduce himself. The few that remained were ruined, much to the vampire’s displeasure. Hannibal loved liver and sweetbreads, but would have to make do without either tonight. He could be versatile though. One could not live on viscera alone.

Deciding to make both ribs and roast, Hannibal seasoned the meat as he tenderized it. Muscles like this really should be aged and allowed to have the natural enzymatic processes break down the meat, tenderizing it, but Hannibal knew enough tricks to make their meal tender and juicy.

The sounds of footsteps caught Hannibal’s attention though, making the vampire grow still. Their presence was to be expected. What made him give pause to listen in on them was that the noise of it sounded wrong. Footsteps made of flesh instead of hooves padded toward his kitchen.

Spreading his awareness out far enough to hear his neighbors breathing in their sleep, Hannibal didn’t sense any other being in his home other than Will. Curious, Hannibal looked up from his work to see just what was going to come through his kitchen door.

To his surprise, a young man who looked to be in his thirties entered his kitchen like he was meant to be there. He was casually wearing the blue suit Hannibal had set out for the wendigo with the suit‘s jacket missing and the dress sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Roughly his own height, the man had dark brown hair, still wet and curling into ringlets from his shower, smelling of Hannibal’s products all mildly sweet and spice. He also had a face that Michelangelo would have gladly sent years painting on a ceiling, his eyes a stormy blue grey that were edged with sea foam green.

“So do I pass?” the thing that looked human but wasn’t asked. The pretender was clearly amused by Hannibal’s reaction or more accurately, his lack there of. It made the vampire realize that he had gone the type of still that only his kind could achieve, forgetting to make the movements of life to fool a living audience.

“I wasn’t aware you could shift.” Hannibal said slowly to buy himself some time to recover. The wendigo in its true form had been interesting, but this new development was just as intriguing. He hadn’t been expecting such attractive company. If he had to admit a fault, Hannibal would have to say that he had a weakness for pretty things, and Will was all that and much more now.

“I can. I just choose not to unless I have to. It’s easier to stay like that, what I truly am. This…this body is just a human veil, a person suit if you will, to hide myself in.” Will shrugged, the gesture looking out of use on his person. “You can afford to fake being normal. I can’t risk it.”

“Person suit? We’re all monsters here, dear Will. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is our version of normal.” Hannibal pointed out, his gaze lingering over Will’s new form. It was very pleasing to the eye, from the five o’clock shadow that graced Will’s graceful jaw line to the bare toes that peeking out from under pants leg that were just a little too long now for the monster turned man borrowing them.

“May I ask you something personal?” Will said, wandering over in slow steps to lean up against the counter. Feigning casual quite badly, he studied the drunk’s head sitting in the corner of the island to avoid looking over at Hannibal. The vampire wondered if the avoidance of eye contact was a wendigo trait or just all Will.

“You may. I can’t promise you that I will answer it though.” Hannibal said, his tone thoughtful as he studied his strange company. “If I do, I will reserve the right to ask you something in return. Quid Pro Quo.”

“Did you choose to become a vampire?” Will glanced over quickly to meet Hannibal’s eyes for a moment before retreating once again in favor of the head. Hannibal was planning on chilling it, perhaps serving the brain for later as dessert with a light dusting of confectioner sugar.

“It has been a long time since that fateful day, more so than others….” Hannibal began.

“That’s not an answer.” Will pointed out, intruded with an impatient huff upon the vampire‘s revelry. “Never mind…Forget I asked.”

“Hush. Please don’t interrupt me and allow me some showmanship.” Hannibal tutted, returning to the meat to work it over once more before popping it into the over. He would roast it slowly on a low heat so it would be tender but still retain some bloody quality.

“I chose. I wanted revenge.” Hannibal summed up simply for Will to appease the wendigo. He watched with interest as Will absorbed the information.

“Revenge can be a messy business. Was it worth the sacrifice?” Will asked after a long moment.

“It was merited. They deserved it for what they did to her. To my sister.” Hannibal allowed the truth to leave his lips, though her name didn’t make it past his tongue. It was still guarded, still protected, the only kind that he could offer to his dear Mischa even after all these centuries.

“Any regrets?” Will ventured, watching as Hannibal began to clean up his kitchen.

“The only regret I have if that I can’t kill them again, but this time with all the knowledge and experience that I have now at my disposal.” Hannibal said lightly, finishing up his tasks to regard the wendigo with a level look. “I believe you owe me an answer now.”

“What’s the question?” Will smiled crookedly, his face wary.

“Did you chose? Through the years, I have learned enough about your kind to know that wendigos are not born. They are created.” Hannibal said, throwing Will’s own question back at him with more than just a little curiosity. “So, did you create yourself?”

“Yes and no.” Will answered, his lips losing what little mirth they had.

“That’s not an answer. Not a real one anyway.” Hannibal said, unimpressed. “It has been my observation that cannibalism is a decision one does not make lightly. That‘s how it begins, isn‘t it? Becoming a wendigo means having to eat quite a few people.”

“I was fed….people… I never ate anyone intentionally.” Will corrected, distaste engrained into his handsome features at the thought. “My…my lover…someone I trusted fed them to me without my knowledge. She betrayed me. Used me…”

“How so?” Hannibal asked intrigued. It was rare to come across such a story.

“My lover was a witch. She wanted immortality. Unfortunately for her, for us both, she translated the spell wrong.” Will sighed, looking tired and drawn as he recalled the few parts of his past that he could remember with sort of clarity. The wendigo had a feeling that he would never be able to forget her, Molly Graham, not matter how he lived. “Long story short- I became a wendigo and she became my first victim. Imagine her surprise.”

“I am. It’s delightful.” Hannibal smiled slow and wicked, his fangs showing from it.

Will ran his hands through his dark curls, suddenly looking very tired, lost, and far younger than he should. “Though I should, I’m too much of a coward to kill myself. I am too scared to die now, for all the things I’ve done, for all that I‘ve lost. So I try only to kill people who truly deserve to die as much as I do. Rapist, pedophiles, murderers…”

“Drunks who hit dogs for their own amusement.” Hannibal pointed out intrigued by Will’s admission.

“I like dogs.” Will glowered back at him.

“I’ve noticed.” Hannibal said. “So you live out in the woods of Wolf Trap?”

“Yes. I have a little house there and fix boat motors. I take care of strays when I find them. It‘s not much of a life, but it keeps me busy.” Will shrugged, toying with the head. Pulling off some cheek meat that was hanging in strips, Will nibbled on the tender fatty meat. The man had been a professional drinker, practically marinated in cheap booze so his flesh held a certain sweetness to it.

Hannibal took Will’s head away from him to put in the freezer for later. “Stop that. You’ll ruin your appetite.” he tsked.

“Shows how much you know about wendigos.” Will snorted, looking around the kitchen for more potential snacks.

“Your existence sounds lonely.” Hannibal observed, studying the pouting wendigo.

“It is, but not any more so than this place.” Will sighed, giving up his hunt. He doubted his host would let him raid his kitchen.

“Oh?” Hannibal challenged, trying not to sound miffed. He had many other homes all over the world, but he considered his Baltimore residence one of the finest having designed it himself from foundation to weather vane.

“I mean it’s lovely, but so is the Taj Mahal.” Will said, his tone light and teasing. The sweet nature of it pleased Hannibal even if the words uttered by it grated on his nerves.

“Did you just really compare my home to a mausoleum?” Hannibal narrowed him eyes, but kept the majority of his displeasure off of his face. He did anyway until he remembered that his mask didn’t work on the wendigo. Will’s widening grin was proof enough of that.

“It’s a lovely mausoleum.” Will told him with false sincerity, giving no distinction between the two.

“A little cliché, Will, given what I am.” Hannibal sniffed, somewhat at a loss. It would be rude to try and kill a dinner guest, especially before the first course was served.

“I live out in the woods and eat people. What did you except? Poetry?” Will chortled, his blue grey eyes dancing with amusement.

That brought Hannibal up short, realizing several things. First and foremost, he wasn’t being mocked, at least not in the way of his kind. This was companionable teasing, the type he had observed often enough in others yet have never really experienced for himself. There was no judgment of possessions or comparison of wealth and art collections. He hadn’t recognized it for what it was, so used to the politics of vampire that were always in play. More so in Hannibal’s case since he was reviled by his own kind, but left to his own devices because a few had use for him. That and he was powerful enough to wipe out the whole lot of them with very little effort on his part.

“Touché” Hannibal conceded, tipping his head as he gave credit where credit was due. It wasn’t often he met anyone who dared to poke at him, or make him reconsider his actions. To celebrate, Hannibal poured some fine dark red wine from his private stock, the decanted Château Lafite Rothschild’s bottle so old its label had been yellowed from over five decades of careful storage and flaking off.

“So what do you do? Out in the world to fit in?” Will asked, feeling this new ease between them settle into place as he accepted a glass of what looked like blood from the vampire. Will was only slightly disappointed to find that it was just wine.

“I am a psychiatrist.” Hannibal answered, which made Will choke on his drink. The wendigo gulped down his glass to help clear his throat.

“I fail to see what is so amusing about that.” Hannibal said, giving Will a hard look for abusing the wine like that as he took a delicate sniff and sip of his own.

“What’s not funny about that?” Will chuckled, setting his glass aside for now since apparently he was a danger to himself with it. “Doesn’t sunlight, you know….’poof’?”

“Not at my considerable age. I’m still sensitive to it, but I find a well fitted three piece suit, sunglasses, and a hat does the trick well enough to avoid going ‘poof’.” Hannibal said dryly. The effects of sunlight on younger vampires could not be described so cleanly. ‘Poof’ didn’t really cover skin melting off, muscle corroding at an alarming rate, and bones dissolving before the internal organs exploded.

“Good on you.” Will said, looking around again as he started to pace. “Are we eating soon?”

“You can’t rush perfection, or cuisine. Besides, you already ate most of the man’s organs” Hannibal reminded in the tone of ’you selfish bastard’.

“I sorry. I didn’t realize I would be sharing.” Will offered by way of apology, glancing over at the vampire in amusement.

“Please keep that in mind for next time.” Hannibal said, only realizing what he said after he heard it. The implication of his offer was staggering if Will took it seriously. That was highly unlikely given the wendigo’s solitary nature and antisocial behavior, but in the short time he had known him, Will had proven himself to be very unique.

“So we…you and I…we are going to do this again?” Will said slowly, watching the vampire with guarded eyes. Hannibal had surprised him with the offer. Being friendly with a vampire held many risks to it, most of which Will had spent the majority of his existence avoiding. Wendigos were as neutral as they were shunned, not getting involving in any sort of supernatural’s social structures or politics.

“I don’t see why not unless you are adverse to my company.” Hannibal said, politely offering the wendigo an out. Even if this dinner turned out to be the only time they met, Hannibal planned on enjoying this experience to its fullest.

“No. No, not at all.” Will murmured, his eyes going half lidded as he openly studied Hannibal. The gaze lingered well beyond the boundaries of casual observation, gliding easily into more erotic areas as the wendigo found the look mirrored by the vampire. “I’m not adverse to it at all.”

“How fortunate. I feel the same way.” Hannibal said just as softly as he set his own wine glass aside. Something told him that he could be needing both of his hands very soon. This line of conversation had taken a sudden turn, though he wasn’t complaining about its destination or the speed it was picking up trying to get to it.

“It could get messy though.” Will warned, licking his lips as he looked pained about warning Hannibal off. The vampire barely kept himself from laughing, instead choosing to grin wide enough to show off his enlarged canines.

“Manners and etiquette can be brushed up on, relearned…trained.” Hannibal teased as he put stress on the last word to see Will shiver in response to it. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m hungry…I’m always hungry. In more ways than one.” Will said, letting the vampire come close to him. He watched Hannibal’s nostrils flare, the predator obviously scenting him. Will might have been offended if he weren’t so turned on by it.

“Well then, I believe I can accommodate you.” Hannibal leaning in close, near enough that his lips grazed Will’s own when he spoke. He had the wendigo’s scent coating the back of his throat, the taste of petrichor and ozone the most prevalent on his tongue. Will was truly a wild thing so he smelled like storm, lightening, and spilled blood on earth.

Will hissed softly in answer, the sound of it lingering through his teeth. “Be careful. I just might take you up on it.”

Licking his lips slowly, Hannibal closed the distance between them to press his mouth to Will’s own, the kiss light, chaste, and terribly wrong given what they were. Wendigo and vampire exchanged a kiss with eyes wide open, stormy blue phasing to silvery sapphire meeting maroon turned blood ruby.

“Please do.”

Chapter Text

“Please do.”

The words barely had time to leave Hannibal’s lips before the vampire found himself on his own kitchen counter, his back being pressed into the metal. Hannibal’s head narrowly missed making contact with the range built into the island as Will leapt up to straddle him, his eyes shining with silvery blue light. He still looked mostly human, all except for the eyes with blackness leaking out the glowing orbs to start tainting his skin back to shades of midnight.

“Tell me you want it. This may be your last chance to escape. I’m too hungry to be gentle.” Will murmured, his fingers tracing the thin bow of Hannibal’s with a surprisingly steady finger. Those graceful fingers still lacking their curved weaponry parted thin lips to find the fangs that lay hidden behind them. Too human nails grazed the false porcelain of teeth that could tear chunks out of steel if need be.

Responding to the threat and the offer dressed up as one, Hannibal jerked his head back and then forward again in a striking motion similar to snakes. Biting down on Will’s wrist just behind the back of his hand, Hannibal bit down hard to have blood pour into his mouth, much to his dismay. He had expected Will’s flesh to be more resilient like his own, but apparently in its current form, Will was as soft and vulnerable as the human the creature parodied.

Unlike other vampires who would have rejoiced and lost themselves to the gush of blood, Hannibal’s existence was a strange one compared to them, his hunger running in a different direction. For the most part, the taste of blood didn’t sit well with him, tasting almost vulgar and overwhelmingly metallic. Hannibal was a vampire that needed flesh to sate his hunger. His strange tendency worked well in his favor though, Hannibal being one of the few vampires in existence who could cook, doing so well, and on a regular basis. In this regard, his ability to blend in with humans was unmatched, allowing Hannibal to share meals with the sheep and not spook them by being the lion in the room.


….the blood filling his mouth to coat the back of his parched throat didn’t taste putrid to him or heavy with the tang of iron. It was fresh on his tongue, clean tasting even. Dark as wine and sweet as sin, Hannibal allowed himself to swallow the blood. The accompanying pain that usually followed such as act did not come, shocking Hannibal into feeding more.

Pleasure washed through his starved veins, his body feeling more alive than it had felt in centuries as he was filled with the wendigo’s blood, the potency of it making his flesh burn with new vitality like he were being reborn. After all this time, Hannibal realized that he had found his perfect food, a victim intended and made only for him. The wendigo named Will was his fount of life, his Nirvana in flavor.

Such things were temptation itself, Hannibal reigning himself in long enough to detach his mouth from the wound. He would not lose himself to the blood’s call like he had seen so many of his brethren do. That way led to vulnerability and weakness born of dependency. Such things got one killed.

New vigor roared through Hannibal though, potent and strong, the vampire smelling the wendigo in him and on him. The scent of dry earth being struck by heavy rain and lightning touched down started to overwhelm Hannibal, the vampire fighting for control with himself and the situation as Will watched him passively with those starlight eyes. His torn arm still bled and all Hannibal wanted to do was latch his mouth to it and drink.

Shoving Will back but the wendigo not letting the vampire go, the pair tumbled off of the island’s counter and onto the floor as things shattered all around them. The impact didn’t hamper or hurt either, the beings too intent on shredding each other’s clothing at an alarming rate.

His suit torn away like tissue paper, Hannibal’s body looked made of carved marble, his only scars were the ones he had incurred in life as a man. He was a statue that had somehow learned the finer points of blushing. Will’s blood was making his flawless skin glow with stolen life, his normally maroon eyes shining like rubies set aflame.

Hannibal leaned over Will with his teeth bared, a low growl settling his throat. His sex was swollen, heavy and hanging between loins that hadn’t burned like this since becoming a vampire. It was almost maddening the way it drove him into such reckless behavior. Hannibal honestly couldn’t decide if he wanted to tear out Will’s throat or fuck him into the tiles until they cracked.

Somehow the wendigo still retained its human form, laid out like a feast on its back, docile and pliant. Will watched Hannibal with half lidded eyes and an unreadable expression as the vampire leaned in to scent him. Unlike vampires, Hannibal saw wendigos got to keep their scars, Will’s chest, shoulders, and arms littered with pale satiny lines of past violence. Hannibal wanted to add his own to the collection, deciding to work on the one he had already created. Shoving Will’s leaking wrist into his mouth, Hannibal used his other hand to roughly part the wendigo’s legs so he could sit comfortably between them.

Hazily remembering certain needs as the blood made him nearly swoon, Hannibal smeared his fingers through some very expensive olive oil, the bottle one of the casualties of the amorous assault. The wendigo only grunted when hard fingers were jammed into him, Will accepting the rough treatment from Hannibal with only a slight widening of his eyes in complaint. Biting down harder on his new addiction, Hannibal worked Will open, his movements in sync with his feeding. He was the proverbial man living on dust and dew out in the desert only to finally find out the oasis was not a mirage. Shimmering bright as shattered blacklight, the blood practically sang as it poured down his greedy throat.

Giving into needs that were working in tandem against him, Hannibal left off of Will’s wrist, moving up to his bared neck. He was barely aware of Will panting beneath him, his now pale skin slick with sweat and burning with fever as Hannibal fanned out the three fingers that were moving the wendigo to desperation. When Will offered up his neck with a begging whimper, an unintelligible demand that Hannibal somehow understand, Hannibal didn’t even pause in striking in either way.

Biting down into Will’s neck at the same moment as breaching him with ripe cockhead caused both creatures to cry out, Will’s voice hoarse and ragged while Hannnibal’s was muffled by the flesh between his jagged teeth. Barely aware of Will’s hand scrambling over his back to find something to hold on to, Hannibal pounded into the yielding flesh beneath him, all tight, slick, and burning hot. The wendigo gave up trying to ground himself though, Will going as plaint as a doll with his arms thrown overhead, only gasping every once and a while at the brutality of Hannibal’s pacing or when the vampire bit down especially hard.

Finally sated just as Hannibal was beginning to think it would be an impossibility, the vampire released his mouth so that he could roar out his orgasm. He stared down at Will with burning eyes the exact shade of the life he had been feasting on and felt powerful. Will lay ruined beneath him with his flesh torn and bleeding, his pale skin a lace tapestry of bruises from Hannibal’s fingers where the vampire had gripped him at his hips and waist. His untouched erection looked painful even to Hannibal, the meat of it engorged with blood that Hannibal had somehow managed not to consume.

Licking his lips, Hannibal wondered how long it would take the wendigo to heal. He had already decided that they were doing this again, even if he had to chain Will down to a bed and never let him go. A willing companion would be ideally preferable, but Hannibal was not above making this creature his slave.

“Are you done?” Will whispered, his voice reedy and weak. From blood loss or hunger was anyone’s guess, Hannibal sitting back on his heels to admire his work.

“Yes, sweet Will.” Hannibal purred, the words made melodious by his accent.

“Good.” was all Will said, his eyes snapping open. Gray blue eyes turned metallic silvery cobalt as his skin erupted with dark matter, pale humanlike skin losing its softness to becoming solidified night, hard as frozen earth and cold as winter air. Still sitting between Will’s legs, the vampire watched with interest as meat and bone shifted around him, breaking and reforming to made itself anew. The wendigo resumed its nightmare appearance to loom over Hannibal, fully healed and whole, and looking….


Scrambling away from the bigger predator, Hannibal found it wasn’t going to be that easy, the wendigo easily capturing him by the ankle to drag the vampire back across the tile.

“My turn.” Will growled, flipping Hannibal over onto his stomach as if he were a rag doll and not a centuries old, freshly fed vampire with vast power at his disposal. That being said, Hannibal had the wind he didn’t need to breath forced out of his lungs as he impacted against the tile.

Groaning with fresh intake, Hannibal froze as he felt a heavy cock rest itself in the crease of his ass, feeling immense and wet with precum as the wendigo easily covered the vampire’s body with its own greater mass. A giant hand, elongated and tipped with inky razors, placed to the back of Hannibal’s neck further persuaded the vampire to stay in place and that there would be no escape in this for him.

Essentially pinned down, Hannibal let out a dark chuckle at his own folly. He had fallen into a trap, one he had seen others make time and time again, the kind that happened to beings of this age. In grievous error, he had underestimated his opponent, his inattentions bought with blood and own sense of superiority. He had also let a pretty face lure him in too close, forgetting that his own kind used that same trick of looking and pretending to be human to catch their prey.

Accommodating the wendigo, Hannibal arched his back and lifted his hips to press himself up against Will in offering. After all, to the victor went the spoils of war. To his surprise, the hold on his neck was released as clawed hands dragged their points down his back, making ten rows of crimson blossom and heal over completely by the time too cool palms gripped Hannibal’s ass. The globes of flesh were parted, Hannibal surprised into making sound when a long serpentine tongue shoved itself deeply into his passage, slicking it from the inside.

Marble like fingers broke tile as Hannibal clawed and shattered his own flooring, the vampire held firmly in place as he was eaten out. Already frayed nerves from his rare orgasm were still overly sensitive to the point of painful. The unpleasant sensation was short lived, his nature and Will’s blood allowing Hannibal to recover quickly, the vampire soon enough going lax and moaning out his pleasure.

It was over too soon, the wendigo greedy and starving by nature, impatient in his doling out of bliss as he pushed apart Hannibal‘s legs to settle himself close. Biting down on his own arm, Hannibal knew it hadn’t been enough preparation just from the feel of Will’s bulbous tip breaching him. Salvia and precum made it slow going. With clawed hands holding Hannibal’s hips right where they wanted them, Will working his way in until his balls pressed up against Hannibal’s own pouch, velvety soft and heavy.

Hannibal’s body kept up with the stretch and burn, vampire healing taking the sting and tear out of it so that all Hannibal felt was too full. While in human form, Will’s skin had burned with what felt like fever. His dark nature now was winter born, the meat inside of Hannibal having a chill to worse than his own. Will’s blood sparking in his veins made Hannibal feel it more, feel like he was alive again.

Releasing his hold, Will laid himself back over the vampire, the wendigo nuzzling the back of Hannibal neck with teeth that felt very sharp.

“I could eat you like this. Eat you all up.” the nightmare creature whispered, his fangs biting into flesh long enough for him to taste his own blood filtered through Hannibal’s flesh before it sealed itself once again.

“Don’t be a rude guest, Will. Dinner is already in the oven.” Hannibal said, not wanting to take the risk of the wendigo getting a liking for his flesh. That could lead to some very bad things.

The wendigo was shocked into laughter, the creature thrusting into Hannibal to try and make him cry out. When the vampire turned his head to glare sideways at Will, he conceded, setting a slower pace to work the vampire more open to him. Circling his length into the movements, Will took his time despite the need clawing at his brain to fill his belly with meat or empty his load into Hannibal as soon as possible. Hunger came in all different shapes, sizes, and needs. Will focused on the lust aspect of it, allowing sex to alleviate the weight of his nature.

When he noticed Hannibal trying to lift his hips enough to get a hand beneath himself, Will did it for him, finding the vampire hard and full again.

“You’re greedier than me.” Will panted out, amused as he worked Hannibal’s cock in hand in time to his own thrusts. The vampire only responded with a growl as he pressed back in tandem with wendigo’s movements. Will finally got the noisy reaction he wanted out of Hannibal though when he raised them up to make Hannibal go onto his hands and knees, the wendigo lifting one of Hannibal’s leg up and away to penetrate him deeper.

The angle and depth was enough stimulation to make Hannibal come again, sperm cloudy red with stolen blood being caught wetly in Will hand as it was coated. The wendigo sucked off the combined esssence to keep his teeth from finding Hannibal’s flesh, the taste of it unique and not enough.

Focusing on his growing need, Will finished himself off as Hannibal’s passage still riding out the orgasm pressed and twitched around the intrusion, the wendigo pouring out cold as it marked the vampire as its mate. Whether Hannibal knew it or not, Will was planning on keeping the vampire, even if he had to hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Hannibal’s scent and the taste of him was branded on what passed for Will’s souls now, the wendigo knowing he would be able to find Hannibal any time he wanted to.

It was a marriage of blood and forever that neither one of them would know about it or its extents until it was far too late.


“This is really good.”

Slightly offended, Hannibal glared over at Will who sounded like he was actually surprised by that fact. The wendigo noisily sucked the flavor out of another bone before tossing it back in the pan in favor of another rib.

“Please try to have some decorum.” Hannibal sighed, eating his own portion in slow, neat bites.

“We’re sitting on the floor eating basically raw meat covered in more than one body fluid. I don’t think there’s a code of etiquette for that.” Will pointed out with a snort. The wendigo and vampire were leaning up against the oven door, enjoying the lingering heat of it with the pan of roasted drunk between them. Will was in human form again, but neither had bothered to try cleaning up just yet. The kitchen timer had gone off while they were still recovering from their couplings so it was mutually decided that everything could wait in favor of a hot meal.

“You don’t have to be completely savage about it. At least put your bones off to the side.” Hannibal said, picking out an example of Will’s rude behavior to have it plucked from his fingers. The wendigo grinned over at him as the bone was eaten as easily as a French fry.

“Happy?” Will said to make Hannibal roll his sanguine eyes at him.



The End

Chapter Text

That should have been the end of it. Will returned to his little house in the woods out in the middle of Wolf Trap’s nowhere. Hannibal stayed in Baltimore, dining off the rude and manipulating the other vampires and the high society of the city to his whims.

Except it wasn’t….

Both became bothered in his own way.

For Will, it came in the form of lost time, the wendigo losing track of himself as he stared at visions of Hannibal that appeared of nowhere and at any time. The wendigo would watch scenes of Hannibal going about his day or night, and then Will would wake up in a field outside of his house or walking down a road with one of his many strays as company.

Needless to say he found it disconcerting, but told himself that he didn’t miss the vampire. After all this time alone in self imposed exile, his mind was just wandering after having some relatively pleasant company was all. He couldn’t get involved with a vampire of all things, especially one who seemed to have a strange fetish for plaid. So many suits, so much plaid, an rainbow ocean of it. Will felt he had already seen far too much for his own good.

Will chose to ignore it until he was discovered by two Wolf Trap police man sleepwalking, the wendigo luckily in human form at the time. As far as he could tell, he had been on his way to Baltimore. It was then that the wendigo stopped ignoring his subconscious and took it upon himself to consciously travel North to the Charm City.


In Hannibal’s case, the vampire found that he couldn’t concentrate. He noticed this sort of thing during a session with a patient. In all fairness though, Franklin was as boring as mayonnaise spread out over Wonder bread. Generally, Hannibal could envision anyone as a meal. The exception to this was Franklin, who would never realize just how lucky he was.

This particular day, Franklin was sobbing……again. Hannibal hated it when the rotund man cried, the vampire knowing he would have to meticulously windex all his surfaces when the session was over. On top of all his other many faults, Franklin was a toucher, one of those people who were the reason museums had to put ’Do Not Touch’ signs out everywhere.

As Franklin wetly droned on about his neuroses and his inability to cope, Hannibal found his mind wandering, his thoughts touching in on Will. They had been doing so ever since their meeting. It had been over a week since that day. To a timeless creature who was mentally and physically built to withstand forever, he felt every single moment he was apart from the wendigo. It was strangely painful in an unique sort of way. Hannibal was fascinated by the sensation.

Like now…

Looking up, Hannibal blinked slowly in surprise. It took a hell of a lot to get a better sort of reaction than that from him. Hell hounds had been involved in the last one incident. Hannibal had actually deigned to arch a brow at the damned canines’ presence before he’d tore them apart. The demon he had annoyed had not been amused to find out that his dogs had been made into a fancy stew and fed to yuppies at a dinner party.

Currently, a strange creature stood in his office, looking very similar to a stag if one were pitch black and its pelt full of raven feathers. The beast trotted past Franklin, passing right in front of the human in full view. When the man didn’t react to its presence, Hannibal realized that he was the only one who could see it. Or at least, he assumed he was, was 85% sure of it. Franklin did have all the observation skills of a vanilla pudding cup.

Only half listening to his patient to make timely appropriate responses, Hannibal entertained himself the rest of Franklin’s session by watching the stag like creature wander about his office, the beast appearing to graze on grass that wasn’t there. The vampire wondered where it actually was or how he was seeing it, but its presence was a peaceful thing so he put a pin in the issue for now. As he watched the ravenstag fade out of view, the vampire decided he might need to pay a visit to Wolf Trap and seek out the wendigo there.

Upon returning home that evening though, Hannibal found that he had some company already waiting for his arrival, the vampire pausing at his own door. His alarms and traps had been tripped and yet as far as he could tell, the intruder was still alive. Even more unusual, he recognized who it was, the vampire throwing forth his supernatural senses to pick up familiar movements and scents centralized in his kitchen.

Entering into the heart of his domain, Hannibal found Will sitting on his island counter, showered off but still very naked. The vampire had a second to take all this in and process it before the wendigo bodily flung itself at him. If he had truly wanted to, Hannibal could have avoided the collision, his body slamming into the door that shuddered from the impact but held.

Human shaped fingers tore at Hannibal’s clothing, managing to disrobe his lower half and make use of it. The vampire only became aware of this when Hannibal managed to pull himself away from the neck he didn’t remember starting to feed on. It was all just a blur of blood and nudity up to that point, turning quickly into desperate movements of heat and tightness.

“In me, in me, deeper, deeper, deeper…” Will chanted in Hannibal’s ear as the wendigo rode him. They were on the floor now, Hannibal’s back braced up against the door from where they had impacted with Will rocking in his lap like he would die without Hannibal’s cock filling him.

“Hello to you too, Will.” Hannibal said like his face wasn’t covered in the wendigo’s blood and Will’s neck wasn’t shredded, still pumping out crimson that streaked his chest. Hannibal leaned in to chase the rivulets with his tongue, nearly losing himself to the perfection of Will‘s essence. It was even better than he remembered, and Hannibal was one for recalling fine details with crystal clear clarity.

“Shut up and come. Make me full.” Will growled, the vibrations of his words making the flesh Hannibal had his teeth anchored in quiver in a pleasant manner.

“I happened to like this suit. Those pants were part of a set. You couldn’t have waited until I removed them out of harm’s way?” Hannibal mouthed against Will’s throat, nipping at in complaint. Will bore down on his hips even harder in response, his harsh movements threatening to ruin Hannibal’s flooring with his rhythm along with the rest of his surviving clothing.

“I hate your fucking suits. No one looks good in plaid.” Will snarled, feeling desperate and far too empty from a hunger he had been ignoring. Food and drink hadn’t filled it. Flesh of another mind and manner was needed. He had barely prepared himself and struggled to keep in human form, wanting to feel the stretch and burn of Hannibal’s sex being driven into him.

The need, the hunger, was always there. It was a part of any wendigo, would forever exist within him like a burning coal of necessity. Will felt his teeth begin to lengthen, the wendigo’s body threatening to break out of its human disguise in streaks of nightmare that dyed his skin back to black. Tapping that change down, Will returned the vampire’s gesture, his now blunted teeth clamping down hard enough to break marble like skin. He felt more than heard Hannibal grunt from the assault, but kept still as the wendigo tore into him, working a piece of vampire’s flesh free.

Throwing his head back with a mouthful of his lover and the vampire attached to his neck following with the movements, Will clenched as he pressed himself as far down as he could manage on the length inside of him, the vampire’s meat cold and malleable as stone. Will felt it deep within him like a strange brand against the strange fever of his human form and it still wasn‘t enough. He always ran hot when he was like this, so small and deceptively fragile.

When the vampire came, Will felt it to his core, Hannibal’s spent cooling that heat of love lust, that hunger that gnawed on the inner marrow of Will’s bones. The wendigo was hazily aware of the blood coated hand that stroked his own erection, the weeping forgotten thing it was. The orgasm coaxed from him was almost like an afterthought, Will’s body jerking in numb pleasure from it like a marionette with its strings held in place by fangs.

When those teeth were retracted, Will fell back onto the cool floor completely sated, at least for the moment. A wendigo was never really full for long as he picked little pieces of vampire out of his teeth with his tongue. Hannibal hadn’t been very tasty, but Will had eaten far worse in the past. If he had to render a verdict, the wendigo would have to say that vampire was kinda chewy and dull in flavor, like old beef jerky.

“Are you hungry?” was asked of Will, who did his best to focus through the haze of blood loss and pleasure that created a fog about him.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You’re better than that.” Will muttered as he made Hannibal’s kitchen floor his new bed for now, the wendigo debated on whether or not the vampire would let him nap here.

“Will, you’re making difficult to be a good host.” Hannibal sighed as he disengaged himself from the wendigo who seemed perfectly happy to scrawl out where he had fallen over. Hannibal dissuaded him of his notion by kicking the wendigo in the side to have his ankle snapped at. The vampire rolled his shoulders to work out the kink in it created by his healing factor as his flesh knitted itself back together. All of Will’s blood inside of him aided in that endeavor nicely. “Please get up. We need to talk.”

“Fine. Feed me first.” Will grumbled as he picked himself off the floor. When he found he was dizzy from his wounds, the wendigo shifted, allowing his true nature to heal him. The ravenstag, the animal form of a wendigo, looked over to find the vampire staring at him with a very peculiar look.

“What?” Will asked, reverting back to his completely healed human shell. He couldn’t talk as the ravenstag and his wendigo form was too tall for the continued safety of Hannibal’s ceilings.

“So you have been stalking me.” Hannibal said, his sanguine eyes narrowing as they turned to a bloody shade of ruby.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Will snorted in amusement until he realized that the vampire was being serious. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been seeing that creature, you, from time to time. Just wandering about before disappearing.” Hannibal said, choosing to open a bottle of red and pour two glasses instead of attacking Will. Something was amiss here and he needed the wendigo alive to help him figure it out.

“You’ve been seeing me? I’ve seeing you!” Will snapped though he still accepted the offered drink. He noticed the vampire wince as he gulped the Chianti down like it were water.

“How so?” Hannibal sighed, taking a delicate sniff and sip of his own to show Will how it was done. The vampire frowned at the wendigo when he noticed the other smiling into his glass.

“Just doing things, like taking way too long in the morning getting dressed, making dinner, going to the opera, and talking to some guy who keeps crying.” Will grinned, wandering over to a fruit basket to discover its contents were real. All of Hannibal’s honey mangoes were eaten much to the vampire’s chagrin who mentally crossed out fresh pineapple mango salsa as a topping tonight.

“That would be Franklin. I apologize for that. He has issues or at least, he believe he does.” Hannibal muttered as he rethought his dinner plans.

“Oh….“ Will mumbled around a mango before cracking the seed of it in half with his teeth. That earned him a glare from the vampire. “So you’ve been seeing me as well then. What have I been doing?”

“Grazing from what I gather.” Hannibal said, opening his refrigerator to take stock in what he had to offer his bottomless pit of a guest. He decided it might actually be a good night to clean out his fridge.

“Yeah, I do that. A wendigo’s hunger is a constant thing and it takes a lot of energy to maintain this form. The ravenstag is kind of like a default mode to save energy while escaping notice. Depending on who is looking, I either appear to them as a single stag or an unkindness of ravens. Rarely a combination of both though. Must be cause you’re a vampire.” Will reasoned out as he was handed a block of rather expensive cheese covered with stamped wax. Shrugging, Will ate it without even really tasting it.

“Fascinating, but that still doesn’t explain why either of us is experiencing this….exchange.” Hannibal said, passing over a jar of stuffed olives that he had bought on a whim but discovered he didn’t like.

“Well we can figure that out later. I wasn’t kidding about the part about feeding me. I really need to eat something other than you and condiments.” Will pointed out, making a face at the empty jar’s label. Who the hell decided to stuff perfectly good olives with anchovies and think that was a good idea?

“Hmmm…..I still have some lawyer I need to get rid of.” Hannibal said, pulling out a butcher paper wrapped appendage that was about to turn. He had been meaning to make something of the meat, but had never gotten around to it, having other things on his mind.

“Should I be insulted by that?” Will sniffed what turned out to be most of a calf and all of a foot.

“You don’t eat lawyers?” Hannibal arched a brow at the wendigo.

“Just because I’ll eat anything doesn’t mean I wouldn’t complain about it. Those olives were just plain nasty.” Will grumped, wanting something to take the lingering taste of fishy failure out of his mouth.

“Don’t be rude, Will, or I won’t cook for you.” Hannibal threatened, starting to put the lawyer back and reach for some accountant’s innards. Large black hands pulled him and his fare back to find the wendigo towering over him, the lean creature curling over the vampire to cage him in place.

“Shut up and pass me that leg before I start nibbling on you’re cabinets.”



Chapter Text

In the course of his very long existence that spanned well over two millennia, Hannibal could honestly say that he had never been hit by a semi-trailer truck before. He had managed to avoid that sort of thing so he was quite shocked when he felt the sensation of having an 18 wheeler slam bodily into him.

Well not him precisely, Hannibal knew that much right away considering he was currently writhing around in pain on the Persian rug in his office, and nowhere near any vehicle of mass transport. It took him only a moment to figure out that he was experiencing some sort of strange body echo from another. Needless to say, Hannibal was not pleased by this as he made himself dissociate from the pain running through his body, and focus on the strange connection that lay between himself and wendigo he had named Will.

They really should have discussed what was happening between them the last time they had met up, but Will had left after eating most of the food in Hannibal’s refrigerator. That had been several nights ago, and Hannibal hadn’t seen hide or hair of the wendigo since, though he still saw the ravenstag from time to time. It was probably safe to assume that meant Will was still seeing him as well.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it sure as hell was confirmed now by the sudden infliction. They were bonded. Hannibal wasn’t sure how deeply or how completely they were linked to one another, but if the vampire had to take a guess of it as he picked himself off of his office floor, it was pretty damn strong. Something had obviously happened to Will, and now Hannibal would have to go see what that something was and murder it with extreme prejudice. That was unless Will hadn’t gotten to it first.

The journey from his office in Maryland to the woods of Virginia took less time than one would think, the vampire pushing his considerable abilities as he let his instincts and this new bond between them guide his quick feet. They took him back to a familiar crossroads, though instead of drunk’s truck this time, there was a rather ruined semi truck with its front crumpled in. Nothing was there to give hint to what it had run into, but there was blood everywhere, lots of it.

Running his fingertips over the twisted metal, Hannibal brought a trace of crimson back to his mouth, tasting Will’s essence upon them. It didn’t take a whole lot of imagination to muster up an idea of what could have happened here. The screaming heard off in the distance was the only surprising part of this scenario. Apparently, Will was still playing with his food.

Taking off after the sound of terror, Hannibal moved through the woods easily enough, coming across what was left of the truck driver, the corpse smelling almost toxic to Hannibal from all the greasy diner food, bad coffee, and cheap cigarettes the man had lived off of. Will had done him a favor by ripping the truck driver apart since the vampire found himself loathe to touch him.

The noise of someone, two people at least, trying to avoid being eaten came from a clearing, a break in the woods that surrounded wide scrub fields and a little two story farm house that had seen better days. The wendigo’s scent was everywhere about it so Hannibal knew it had to be the home Will mentioned before in passing. The numerous amount of upset dogs meandering about the dilapidated structure confirmed it, the pack going to hide under the house as Hannibal approached. He wasn’t offended by their behavior. Dogs rarely tolerated the presence of the undead supernatural for long.

Going in through the back door of the kitchen, Hannibal let himself in by breaking the door handle, the aged metal coming off easily enough in his hand. Someone had attempted to lock it, the same someone who was trying to hide under the bed in the living room. Hannibal ignored the humans in favor of looking about the wendigo’s habitat.

From what he could tell, Will had no sense for aesthetics if the room was any fair indication, its main contents a messy stained bed shoved over in one corner, an out of tune standing piano in another, and boat motor parts scattered everywhere. A collection of mismatched reading material kept each other company beside a desk filled with clutter. As far as Hannibal could tell from it, Will made fishing lures. Hannibal approved. One had to do something to pass the wealth of time that they were allotted by their conditions.

Shuffling under the bed reminded Hannibal that he wasn’t alone and that he would have to address the humans hiding under the bed eventually. Sighing out air he didn’t need, Hannibal crouched down to peek. He was met with the frightened eyes of two young women, a scantily clad blonde and brunette in dirty clothing. One was holding a knife and the other was biting her hand trying not to scream.

“Who are you?!” the blonde whispered, her voice shaking as she awkwardly held out the knife at him like the nicked piece of metal would actually be of any use to her.

“Obviously a concerned neighbor who noticed a disturbance and came to investigate.” Hannibal said easily enough, as honest as anyone but not really. He just needed some information out of these sheep before dispatching them. They was desperate enough to believe him, his calm tone and demeanor a false source of stability.

“You have a car!?” the brunette asked as she climbed out from under the bed, still clutching her hands to her chest.

“Alas, not with me. I arrived on foot.” Hannibal bit back a grin. It all being true up to a point

“Shit!” the blonde was not happy to hear that as she peered out into the dark through filthy windows. Hannibal gave her points for having the better survival instinct of the two. At least she had taken it upon herself to find a weapon, a totally ineffectual weapon but at least some sort of effort had been made.

“Can you tell me your names, and what occurred here?” Hannibal asked, more interesting in the room’s contents that what was happening outside. He knew Will would turn up eventually, Hannibal moving over to the piano to find it made a terrible noise just like he excepted it would when played its keys.

“I’m….my name is Allison and that‘s Courtney. We shouldn’t be here at all. We were just trying to hitch a ride.” Allison babbled, sounding grateful for the outlet.

“W-we….hit something. Something….big. Joe…the driver, thought it was a deer at first. He got out….and…” Courtney was obviously having a more difficult time of keeping herself together. Hannibal decided to kill her first if she continued to be so annoying and useless.

“And?” Hannibal prompted. He hated this part, the panic, the shaking voice, these silly mortals wasting his time when there were far more interesting things moving about in the dark around them.

“It wasn’t a deer.” Courtney stated wide eyed with fear, the obvious staring right back at her.

“Well, clearly.” Hannibal sighed.

“I-t ripped Joe apart! Like a piñata! A fucking meat piñata!” Courtney was starting to go back into hysterics so Hannibal casually snapped his fingers at her to keep her focused.

“None of that. Please focus. How did you two escape?” Hannibal told her, tsking his tongue at her for the foul language.

“We ran. Oh my god, we ran while Joe was being eaten alive. We found this place and then you showed up.” Allison finished for them, a little slow on the uptake considering she and her friend were trying to hide in the home of the monster they were running from.

“Oh Will……” Hannibal murmured, not feeling too particularly impressed by anything here.

“Who’s that?” Allison asked, once again getting life points for paying attention. It was almost a shame that she was going to die, and probably in a horrible manner.

“He owns this hovel.” Hannibal said, giving a slight unimpressive shrug at their surroundings. Bonded or not, he was not going to stay here any longer than he had to.

“He’s dead then.” Courtney said with a mixture of despair and confidence.

“Oh, I truly doubt that.” Hannibal chuckled softly. “He’s the resourceful type. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

“That…that thing out there..” Allison was doing her best to make sense of her existence at the moment in applaud worthy efforts. “We have to look for a gun or something, or a phone, or ….”

“No. We won’t be doing that.” Hannibal said gently, shaking his head at them. The humans couldn’t hear it, but he could. Something was moving through the house, having come in through the window upstairs.

“That…That thing out there is hunting us! All of us!” Allison yelled at Hannibal, gesturing outside with her knife still in hand.

“Yeah, you’re on the menu too!” Courtney snapped, feeling some sort of safety in numbers enough to gain confidence.

“No. He’s hunting you and I’m afraid, my dears, that you’ve run out of time.” Hannibal corrected, breathing in the power that was beginning to fill every corner. Will’s rage tasted almost sweet on his tongue, it hung so potently in the air now with his arrival.

“You said ‘he’…Oh my god, you know what it is.” Allison said in a trembling voice, backing away from the amused vampire. She was so busy focusing on him that the human failed to watch the movements of shadows behind her, the bulk of them solidifying into a towering creature that looked carved out of black marble and liquid pitch. It would seem that anger compounded with injury made the wendigo more feral in nature and appearance, its upright creature form warping with its raven stag form.

Instead of a humanlike face, a stag’s head with wolf’s jaw and jagged teeth loomed over Allison, the wendigo’s body stretched out wide and wicked with sharp angled bone that had meat and black skin strained over its newly widened frame.

Courtney had just enough time to scream out an useless warning to her friend before Allison disappeared in fine blood mist made from her own bone and viscera, the wendigo disappearing back into the dark with its prize as quickly as it had come.

Hannibal found his arms suddenly quite full with quivering human, Courtney throwing herself at him as she tried to pull him out the door with her. She might as well could have been trying to drag a mountain behind her for all the give Hannibal allowed her.

“Please refrain from doing that. You are wrinkling my suit.” Hannibal sighed, freeing his arm from her grasp easily enough. The dismissive motion sent Courtney falling onto her backside, giving her a front row view of what loomed over Hannibal. The vampire turned with a deep sigh when he noticed drips of warm drool beginning to stain his suit. The material was practically sprayed with the stuff when the wendigo roared him his face, embedding flecks of flesh and bone in the plaid material to go along with the spittle.

Exasperated by this turn of events, Hannibal reached out to smack the wendigo upside its antlered head. It didn’t do much damage to the wendigo but it was enough to make the creature stop drenching him in its noise and past meals. Jaw clicking shut with an abrupt cracking sound similar to a gunshot, the wendigo tilted its head to the side to whine.

“Rude, Will. You’ve made quite a mess of this. What’s to be done about that?” Hannibal admonished, studying the damage to his clothing. The jacket was stained beyond hope now but still whole, which was becoming an unusual state for it to be in while in Will’s company. The wendigo’s whining descended into grumbling, reminding Hannibal of a scolded yet unapologetic puppy.

“Can you change back?” Hannibal asked, doubting that Will could carry on a proper conversation in this state. The wendigo chose to hiss in answer, its head swinging to the forgotten human who seemed frozen to the floor with fear. Hannibal wondered if it was a reaction created by the wendigo’s inherent nature.

Credit had to be given where it was due. Coutney did try, she really did, the human breaking out of her terror induced stupor to scramble on hands and knees toward the front door. She only managed to paint the floorboards in a wash of her own blood, the wendigo springing forward to land practically on top of her. She didn’t last long after that.

“What a mess.” Hannibal said though he left it up in the air whether he was referring to his suit or the state of the house in general. “I’m not staying here so you might as well come home with me. We have matter of great import to discuss.”

The wendigo keened back him in answer, its maw quite full with Courtney. Hannibal made a face at the terrible display of manner.


If his smirk was any clear indication, it was a given that Will found Hannibal’s sleeping arrangement humorous. Hannibal failed to see why the sight of king sized mattress would be a source of amusement.

“Come on now, Will. Did you really except me to sleep in coffin? Perhaps with a little earth or grave dirt thrown in for good measure?” Hannibal mused as he watched the wendigo gleefully roll around on his silk sheets.

“At the very least, I was hoping for a mausoleum. Maybe with a pair of weeping angels guarding its entrance and some obscure Latin phrasing posted over the door.” Will grinned cheekily, unrepentant as he scent marked the bed by rubbing himself upon it. Being dead and lacking bodily functions, vampire really didn’t smell like anything at all, their personal odor more influencing by their surroundings and what they had come in contact with. Hannibal usually smelled like whatever he was cooking at the time, expensive dry cleaning, and even more expensive cologne. It didn’t smell bad to Will, just artificial. He took it upon himself to replace it with his own.

“Are you done acting like a beast and ruining my sheets?” Hannibal sighed as he watching Will grow still while on his belly, the wendigo spreading himself out like a selfish starfish to take up most of the mattress.

“Be nice to me or I’ll tear up your sheets, which probably cost more than my house.” Will’s answer was muffled by the goose down pillows he had burrowed his head under. His threat was quite real, the wendigo transforming himself so that his antlers and claws appeared, all of which were quite sharp.

“Don’t you even think about it. That’s a waterbed I’ll have you know.” Hannibal growled, making no sudden movements that could be taken as a threat or startle the wendigo. It would be a hell of a mess to clean up if Will decided to be difficult.

“A waterbed? Why isn’t it moving then?” Will asked in disbelief, changing back to his human form much to Hannibal’s relief to test out the mattress. There was no answering telltale ripple in the mattress to hint at its true aquatic nature.

“It is waveless.” Hannibal clarified as he watched the wendigo glare at the bed in open contempt.

“Then what the hell is the point of having it?” Will arched a brow at the vampire, who was beyond ridiculous in his mind.

“All of the comfort but none of the motion sickness.” Hannibal said, shrugging out of his suit with practiced ease. He was pleased that it was still whole for once, stained into ruin but whole. The last couple hadn’t survived their encounters with the wendigo.

“Vampire don’t get motion sickness. At least not from waterbeds.” Will pointed out, watching Hannibal strip with interest.

“How do you know that?” Hannibal asked, ignoring the attention his nudity got him.

“Because I’m a wendigo, not an idiot.” Will snorted as he reached for the vampire, managing to snag Hannibal by his lean hips. Shoving down the nightwear far enough to reveal an enticing strip of pale skin, Will quickly leaned in to lick down its curvature and leave a bite mark on its indentation.

“Is there a difference?” Hannibal smirked as he was dragged into his own bed to be held down by the wendigo. His recent attempts at garbing himself proved futile as his nightwear went flying across the room to points unknown.

“I’m still in your bed. Your ridiculous, waveless waterbed.” Will warned as he sucked bruises into Hannibal’s skin that already began to fade before he was even done. Will laid the vampire out on his back to do this, the wendigo exploring the flavor of Hannibal’s chest and the feel of his chest hair against his tongue.

“My deepest apologies then for the grave misunderstanding.” Hannibal said straight faced enough anyone but Will might have believed him.

“That’s better.” Will hummed against Hannibal’s nipple before biting down hard enough upon it to make the vampire’s back arch off of the bed. “Hedonist.”

“Beast.” Hannibal glared to be smiled back at.


“Pot, kettle, my dear Will.”


Chapter Text

“So……are we ever going to talk about it?”

Hannibal looked down at the lean body he was thrusting into. Will was splayed out beneath him, his back looking almost flayed by the marks in his skin. By that point in the evening, the sheets had already been ruined much to Hannibal’s discontent so he had not bothered to be gentle.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Hannibal sighed out the words, more involved with the heat that enveloped his cold dead flesh than actual conversation.

“You know what.” Will groaned as a hand was placed to the back of his neck, pinning the wendigo down to the bed. Hannibal hoped that by doing so Will would stop talking.

“And you think this is the appropriate moment for it?” Hannibal said, demonstrating Will’s shitty sense of timing by abrupt changing the angle and depth he was fucking Will with. Hannibal’s cock slamming into him deep and thick made Will yelp as his sweet spot was struck dead on too hard and too fast. Hannibal knew his body quite well by now. Gritting his teeth, Will made a mental note to return the favor the first chance he got.

“I have complete faith in your ability to multitask, you ass.” Will rasped through clenched teeth that were rapidly turning into fangs. Grinning into the wounded pillow he had been tearing up only partly out of spite, Will funneled a load of sensation, all of what he was experiencing, through their bond to give the vampire the equivalent of spiritual whiplash. It was enough to disrupt the usually unflappable vampire’s pacing, Hannibal swearing under his breath at the wendigo in a long dead language.

“I dislike stating the obvious. We are bonded, that much is obvious even to you. To what extent has yet to be defined. How and why this happened still alludes me as well.” Hannibal said, running his hands down Will’s heaving sides to come to rest at his swaying hips. The wendigo keened as he was held in place, the vampire driving himself harder into the yielding, abused flesh.

“How do you feel about it?” Hannibal smirked, watching as Will’s head fell to rest on his forearms. His back arched so beautifully under the assault while letting Hannibal use his body as he saw fit.

“How do you feel about it?” Will mocked in return, shifting his hips back in time to slam against Hannibal’s pelvis. He knew he sounded petulant but this development was unexpected. Will had gotten pretty used to the idea of spending eternity alone, but now he was bonded to a creature who was capable of keeping him company until the end of days. It sounded too good to be true, so Will was patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Until that happened though, all the sex was a nice perk.

Moaning, Will pressed himself into the mattress as much as he could and not become a part of it as he felt the vampire empty himself out into him. The undead’s spent was a cool pooling of fluid shot into of his fevered center, difficult to miss. Hands like carved marble lifted his hips up, forced Will to present himself as his ignored length was caught in those cold hands. Will’s orgasm was torn from him, the wendigo coming with a harsh cry as he was mercilessly worked over.

“It is not what I would have chosen if given the option…” were the words Will was able to hear Hannibal say through his blissed out fog.

“So much for the afterglow. Tell me how you really feel about it.” Will grumbled as a body landed on top of him, Hannibal keeping him in place even as his cock softened within the wendigo. Will winced as he felt the organ slip out of him, wet with blood tinted cum.

“That being said, I do not find your company or our relationship disagreeable.” Hannibal amended, running his clean fingers through Will‘s sweat soaked curls as he made Will clean his other hand with his tongue. The wendigo bit back when he was done, nearly taking the vampire’s hand off at the wrist with his fangs.

“Your pillow talk leaves a lot to be desired.” Will told the vampire as he tried to shake Hannibal off of his back. Fangs placed at his throat persuaded Will to stay put, the wendigo growing still again to let the vampire feed in peace.

“Would you prefer gilded fakery and flowery lies to the truth?” Hannibal asked, licking the wound he had created. The wendigo’s blood did marvelous things to and for him, the vampire’s wounds closing instantly from his feeding.

“No, but at the very least you could tell me that I’m pretty. Or a good lay. Something other than ‘I can basically tolerate you’.” Will said as he debated on whether or not he should eat Hannibal‘s arm. As long as he didn’t tear it off completely, the vampire could grow the meat back over it. Will realized that he must have thought that a touch too loud, Hannibal moving his arms away from the vicinity of the wendigo‘s mouth. “I have needs to.”

“I find you more than just ‘basically tolerable’, my dear Will. Despite our differences, we belong together. Otherwise, the bond would not have been able to form in the first place.” Hannibal said thoughtfully, his tongue wide and flat against Will’s skin. The wendigo’s blood coated his mouth beautifully with life and flavor, the creature’s power making the vampire’s deprived flesh tingle and sing as it was filled with blood and strange power.

“Well, that’s good. What a relief, because I’m pregnant.” Will playfully lied but doing so straight-faced enough to make the feeding vampire pause in alarm. Will found himself shoved off of the bed when he started to snicker, the wendigo landing with a satisfyingly heavy thud.

“Rude. I’m delicate.” Will complained from the floor.

“You’re an idiot. I’m bonded to a fool.” Hannibal glared, crawling to the edge of the bed to fume down at the wendigo.

“You make me feel unwanted. I’m just the old ball and chain now to you, aren‘t I?. The honeymoon is over.” Will sighed theaticallly, pouting up at the vampire.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Hannibal asked in a flat tone, giving the wendigo his ‘I am not amused’ face.

“I am actually. Are you going to feed me or should I just start eating your shoes? They’re leather, right?” Will grinned, the expression all sharp teeth like ivory razors.

“Those are handcrafted Italian, you godless heathen.” Hannibal growled as his eyes narrowed at the wendigo, promising prompt vengeance if Will dared to so much as even breathe wrong in his footwear‘s general direction.

“So you’re saying I have good taste then.” Will chuckled darkly, finding one such shoe in the scattered pile of their clothing. The vampire arched a brow of warning at him, and made ready to launch himself at the wendigo.

“If I find one tooth mark…” Hannibal threatened, leaving his options wide open and their horrors undefined.

“Quite dawdling then, or I’ll eat only the left shoe of every pair you own.” Will countered, grinning wide to better show off his fangs.

“I’ve killed for less.” Hannibal warned, rolling off the bed and onto the floor to tear the shoe from the wendigo’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re a scary monster. Good on you. Now go make me a post coitus snack, or I’ll make due with what I have here.” Will chuckled as he watched the vampire gather up their clothing, folding what he could, throwing out what he couldn‘t.

“So demanding.” Hannibal sighed, slipping on a robe when he was done with his task. He gestured to the wendigo to get up by kicking him in the side. Will grabbed for the vampire’s foot to bite down lightly upon its arch. Freeing himself, Hannibal bopped the wendigo on the head with his fist.

“You love it. You get to show off.” Will pointed out as he rolled his feet, following Hannibal into the bathroom.

“I never show off. I demonstrate.” Hannibal said rather primly as he started the tap to fill the tub. A bath was in order for them both.

“Well excuse the fuck out of me. Demonstrate your ass into the kitchen.” Will grumped as he was shoved into a showerstall to rinse the majority of ick off of him.

“Language, Will.” Hannibal said with disappointment coloring his tone, turning off the tub’s tap. Letting his robe fall off of his shoulders into a silken heap on the floor, he deigned to join the wendigo after watching water slide tantalizingly off of his body.

Yes, I’m sure your virginal centuries old ears are burning from my use of profanity.” Will said, licking his lips in a suggestive manner as he reached between his legs to finger his own passage, cleaning out the spent from it.

“Millennium.” Hannibal hummed the correction, his own hands helping Will in this endeavor to some extent.

“Pardon?” The admittance had caught Will off guard as he allowed himself to be turned, the wendigo automatically placing his hands to the tile in time to brace himself.

“Millennium. A little over two to be roughly accurate, give or take a few centuries. New calendars were introduced here and there. You understand.” Hannibal’s words faltered as he reentered that tight, sweet heat still slick with his own essence and the expensive oils he preferred to use in Will instead of common lube.

“You’re robbing the cradle then. I’m only about 500.” Will panted out, Hannibal’s hands doing their fair share by stroking him to full fullness again.

“That explains why you are so petulant.” Hannibal chuckled, the sound of it low and dark enough to send shivers up and down Will’s spine as he was pressed into the tile.

“I am not petulant.” Will groaned, pushing back to the satisfying sound of their hips making repetitive contact. Grabbing a handful of sodden curls, Hannibal made Will turn his head so that the vampire could level a look at Will that told the wendigo his point had just proved itself.

“You’re just stuck up. A snob.” Will panted out, arching his back into the spray. He enjoyed the sensation of too hot water sluicing over his still healing flesh, Hannibal adding new bruises to it as he mercilessly thrust into the wendigo.

“Dignified is the word you’re looking for. A connoisseur.” Hannibal growled, his fingers digging into the softer parts of Will’s ass to make trickles of blood run from the moon shaped wounds, turning the water pinkish.

“Prissy.” Will shot back as he clenched down, making Hannibal growl.

“Particular.” Hannibal said, taking the wendigo in hand to start stroking him in time to his reckless pace.

“Pride goeth before a fall.” Will said. He lost his train of thought entirely, more involved with not blacking out from his orgasm as Hannibal’s fingers rippled over his cock and caressed its tip into completion.

“If you are going to seriously quote scripture at me, at least do so correctly. By that same line of reasoning, you should try to steer clear of gluttony.” Hannibal said as he bit into the wendigo’s shoulder, making himself the pot to Will’s kettle.

“I can’t help what I am…this hunger inside of me. I need you to fill it.” Will gasped, letting himself to pressed into the tile as Hannibal slammed into him. Just as Will thought the surface would begin to crack from the assault upon it, Hannibal tensed and stilled, a flood of cool spent filling Will again.

Pulling out, the vampire let the shower do its job as he held his lover up into the spray. Pressing a kiss to the wendigo’s temple, Hannibal started to clean them both off, Will lax and useless with pleasure in his arms.

“I will always strive to do my best in that regard.”


The End
...for now...