There's blood on the mattress, soaked to the point of blackness. Freshly, it drips from clawing hands and parted jaws, thick-red and clotting behind his teeth and under his tongue. The room is brightly lit because he can't see in the darkness, not like his mate. It's too bright for him – he keeps the lights ever-dimmed to save his sensitive eyes, but Will insists on seeing, in all the stark and brazen reality of their time together.
He rubs his fingers through fine hair, which is clumped and matted with his sweat and his blood. Another bead of it runs down his chest, caught by an eager tongue, and Will moans as Hannibal suckles at his breast like a nursing child, his hands wide and gentle on Will's back to hold him steady.
Will likes how big Hannibal's hands are, how strong and capable. He's seen those hands rip animals and men alike to shreds, just as easily as he would finger the delicate ivory keys on his piano. He has seen them gracefully penning his letters and essays one moment, and claws tearing meat from bone the next when Will smiles and interrupts him with a finger to his chin, and whispers he's hungry.
Hannibal tongues up to his nipple, curls around the bud and sucks harder, his fangs piercing Will's chest as Will trembles and bites his lower lip. Blood is what keeps his mate strong, gives him life, and he feasts on his kills as much as he feasts on Will, but Will likes knowing when it's his blood in Hannibal's belly. He thinks his mate's eyes shine just a little brighter when nourished by someone he loves.
"Fuck, Hannibal," he moans, tilting his head back to bare the flushed, sweaty canvas of his neck. Similarly marked, bruised and bitten to all Hell. Vampires are not a secret, but they are rare, and he knows more than one curious eye has looked at the marks on his neck, seen Hannibal's eyes shine bright in pleasure when he notes their presence, too.
He whimpers, as Hannibal's fangs withdraw, a fresh gush of blood spilling from his chest. His hands are shaky and he's dizzy with blood loss, a promising euphoria burning the backs of his eyes. He drops a trembling hand to his cock and wraps his fingers around it, stroking himself tight as Hannibal continues to rock within him.
"Fuck, fuck, oh, God -." He bears down hard around Hannibal's cock, whimpering as he comes. They've been at this all day, the sun shielded behind Hannibal's thick and heavy blackout curtains. Will's ass is puffy and sore, dripping with lubricant and blood and Hannibal's saliva. Hannibal's chest and belly are stained with Will's come.
He stills, sighing gently, lashes fluttering and set low over his eyes. Hannibal stares up at him, panting though he has no need to breathe. No heartbeat to make race. Still, Will leans down and cups his face, kissing his bloody mouth as Hannibal's hands slide down to his hips and help him continue to move, forcing his muscles through lazy pliancy.
"Will," he growls, showing his sharp fangs. "Beloved, please."
Will smiles, lopsided and lax. He shakes his head and Hannibal's eyes flash with outrage. Will laughs at him, carding his fingers through Hannibal's hair, which is only wet from Will's sweat and blood; he is unable to produce body fluids of his own.
Except one thing. The thing Will is relentlessly and stubbornly denying him.
It started as a bad joke, as a lot of things in Will's life do. The fact that Hannibal hadn't been able to enter his house until Will had to, in no uncertain terms, tell him that he could come inside and that he was always welcome. Public buildings are less of an issue, thank God, though part of him would laugh internally at the idea of Hannibal waiting outside the Quantico building or his lecture hall like a stray puppy, waiting to be let in from the cold.
Then, the first time they slept together. Hannibal had fucked him all night long and Will would have made a joke about him being such a stud, except when it became abundantly clear that Hannibal wanted to finish. He simply couldn't. Will had let him inside his body, that required another straight shot of permission, but it wasn't until Will, fucked-out and sore and sated, had pressed a hand to his stomach and whispered, "Hannibal, please, come inside me" that he'd finally been able to, with a long, drawn-out snarl and teeth in Will's neck and shuddering head to toe.
Will is cruel, when all is said and done. A public building requires no invitation, a house or other personal residence requires a one-time catch-all at the very least. But a body, that is sacred and hallow ground, and Hannibal cannot invade it without permission. Will is sure there's some sentimental gentleman upbringing in that, since Hannibal has no issue piercing his neck or anywhere else on his skin for the sake of his meal, but this, this carnal union Will so loves, requires consent. Repeated and enthusiastic consent.
Besides, there's something wholly indulgent in having such a creature bent to his will. A monster that could kill him without a second thought, that could tear through his flesh as easily as paper, but won’t. Because Hannibal loves him, adores him, with every fiber of his undead soul.
He cups Hannibal's skull and kisses him again, cutting his tongue on his mate's sharp fangs and moaning when, immediately, Hannibal sucks him down. He snarls, gripping Will tightly and rolling them so Will is on his back, and he gasps, throwing his head back as Hannibal sinks deeply into him, bruising his tender insides. His body, while not the frigid cold of a corpse, is markedly cooler than that of a normal human. Friction and proximity to heat keeps him tolerably warm.
"Harder," he whispers, as Hannibal nuzzles his neck and licks up his throat, traps Will's larynx between his teeth and sucks. Hannibal obeys, planting his bloody hands to the bed, his thighs spreading so he can cradle Will's ass and pin him down as he fucks Will with all the tireless power of his species. Will moans, oversensitive and sore, the friction of Hannibal's cock inside his oversensitive body bordering on pain, now.
Hannibal snarls, and saliva and blood drips from his fangs. He finds Will's pulse and bites down and Will screams, arching, the vampire's venom flooding his head and making his heart stutter in his chest. His body rolls with another orgasm, spilling dry now, half-hard cock drooling obscenely onto his stomach.
"Fuck," he whispers, pawing at his own hair, entire body trembling under the onslaught of pleasure. He laughs weakly. "That's cheating, you son of a bitch."
"No more so than you," Hannibal replies, his smile wide and unrepentant. He pulls Will up by the back of his neck, forcing him to fold in on himself, legs splayed out whorishly wide. Hannibal slips out of him and Will growls in protest, only to fall silent when Hannibal kisses him, big hands cupped over his sluggishly bleeding neck. "You are utterly cruel, my darling, beloved Will."
Every syllable drips with adoration, and Will smiles, sagging heavily as Hannibal kisses him again. He pets up his mate's chest, through the blood and sweat matted into the hair on it. Hannibal's skin does not yield to his nails like a human; Will can claw and bite all he likes, but he will not break it, nor leave marks of his own.
He hums, and nudges Hannibal out of the way. Despite the fact that it would truly take all of Will's strength – and even then, he may not be able to do it – to make Hannibal move, Hannibal yields to him easily, his eyes the bright red of a fresh-fed vampire, his bloody lips stretched into a wide smile.
Will flattens himself on his stomach and folds his arms beneath his head, cheek against them. "If you can make me come again, I'll let you finish," he says with an arched brow, grinning when Hannibal snarls in readiness. He prowls into place between Will's spread thighs and leans down, nuzzling his hair, sucking blood from the strands. He kisses Will's nape, rubs his nose against the tender tendon that always sends a shiver down Will's spine when it's touched.
His hands flatten, thumbs in the dips at the base of Will's spine. His fingers splay out wide, and clamp down hard. Will sucks in a breath and moans as Hannibal kisses his way down Will's spine. He expected Hannibal to just dive right back in; he's more than proven he can make Will come on his cock alone.
He gasps, the sound devolving into a weak moan, as Hannibal shoves his face between Will's cheeks, and licks broad and wet and wide over his puffy, tender rim. Will whimpers, stinging pain making him arch up and spread his knees out further.
Then, Hannibal's thumbs dig into the creases of his thighs, spreading Will apart. He licks Will's rim again, tongue probing deep since Will is so open and wet. Will shivers, biting his lower lip, forehead to the messy sheets as he reaches below his belly and fists his cock in a loose grip. Hannibal's venom, a powerful aphrodisiac to ensure his prey is pliant and weak while he feeds, curls around the base of his skull and renders him lax and mute, muffled moans and quiet cries wrenched from the pit of his stomach as Hannibal turns all of his attention to where Will is open and red.
He knows there's blood there. Knows Hannibal can taste it. He clenches around his mate's tongue and whimpers weakly as Hannibal nuzzles him, hands strong and grip unwavering as he licks deep into Will's body. Hannibal's cock, hard and semi-warm, drips onto Will's calf. His toes curl.
Hannibal lets out a rough sound and withdraws his tongue, planting a wet, loud, sucking kiss to Will's rim. "You taste so sweet, here," he says, and Will wants to laugh and make a comment that he's sure that's probably the worst-tasting part of him, but another lick stalls his words. "All this pressure and friction has bruised you, possibly permanently. There's so much blood at the surface of your skin, begging to be let out."
Will probably shouldn't find that so fucking hot. But then again, people who fuck vampires aren't exactly known for their aversion to blood or their self-preservation instincts.
"It's taking everything I have not to pierce you on the inside, Will," Hannibal confesses. "To tear you apart and drink you down. You tempt me so thoroughly, beloved." Will gasps, tightening his fist around his cock. "From the moment I met you, I knew I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than go another moment without tasting every inch of you."
His fingers pet down Will's perineum, his words slightly muffled as he plants them to Will's ass. He tilts his head and teases his fangs against the warm, sweaty flesh, and Will moans and merely spreads his legs wider. He's panting – venom makes his heart race and his lungs tighten, so he can't catch his breath, so his blood deoxygenates faster. Hannibal told him, once, that it's a taste he prefers.
Hannibal snarls, suddenly. Loudly, like he does when he's about to lunge for the kill. Will's heart stutters in a helpless prey-animal fear, and then he clenches his eyes tightly shut, a ragged, helpless scream torn from his chest as Hannibal forces his cheeks apart, spreads his fingers to the bottom of Will's rim and pushes down on his balls, which were drawn up tight with his pending orgasm.
Hannibal tilts his head, and bites down on Will's perineum. Venom shoots like lightning through him and Will writhes helplessly, crying out as his body is forced right through the buildup and over the edge. He comes in thick ropes, free hand slammed against the headboard and clawing at the edge of the mattress. Whether he's trying to get away, or push closer, he can't tell, but it doesn't matter with Hannibal holding him so fiercely.
Hannibal snarls, drinking him down and tonging at his perineum, the thick muscle and pulsing vein as Will shudders and spills and spills. Will whimpers, sweaty and shaken and alight with pleasure, half on the edges of unconsciousness.
Hannibal rises, and shoves Will's legs together. He frames them with his powerful thighs and wraps a hand in Will's hair.
He wrenches Will's head up and licks the arch of his ear, purring loudly, his breath heavy with the stench of blood. "Let me in," he commands, and Will nods helplessly, panting and closing his eyes, dizzy with blood loss and pleasure.
"Yes," he says, and Hannibal's cock fills him up so perfectly all over again. He gave Will too much venom – all it takes is the first penetration for Will to come again, choking on his own breath as Hannibal wraps a hand around his throat. Both to monitor his pulse, he's sure, and because he likes it when Will can't breathe.
"Hannibal, please," he begs. He can't move, he can't even lie flat, with Hannibal's weight pinning his legs down and Hannibal's hand forcing his head up. Hannibal snarls, loudly, and parts his jaws again, sinking his teeth into Will's shoulder.
Will knows better than to go back on a deal with a vampire, even one that loves him. Hannibal's growl is impatient and low, rumbling where his bloody chest is pressed flat and chafing against Will's back.
"Come in me," Will tells him. "You can. Please." He paws at Hannibal's hand and Hannibal moves it, just far enough that it's not quite as much a struggle to breathe. But Hannibal's thrusts are powerful, knocking the air from his lungs.
Hannibal shoves him flat and covers him, his thrusts deep and long and Will aches. He's probably going to black out when he comes again, but he can't help begging hoarsely, raggedly, for more.
Hannibal goes still with a grunt, pressed deep. Will feels his thick cock twitching, and winces when Hannibal comes, thick and heavy inside him. It drips out around his cock and stings where Will was bitten.
He goes lax, and then tenses up again, crying out hoarsely as Hannibal bites his neck, drinking him down, and gives him such a powerful shot of venom that Will's brain can't handle it. He falls into unconsciousness with Hannibal still inside him, with a sated and exhausted moan.
He doesn't know how long he sleeps for, but when he wakes, the aches in his body have softened from the immediate sharp sting to a dull, powerful background throb.
And Hannibal is still inside him.
He huffs a laugh, voice croaking; "You've evolved past asking for it?" he murmurs. He's not upset about it, and quite likes the feeling of Hannibal's strong arms around him, his body heavy as stone keeping Will pinned, his hips moving in lazy rocks that tease the pleasure-fuzzy edges of Will's mind.
"I never left," Hannibal replies smugly, and Will rolls his eyes. Trust his pedantic mate to find his own loophole.
Apparently, consciousness was all he was waiting for, as Hannibal tenses with another low, satisfied noise, and fills Will up again. He doesn't soften, because he doesn't have to worry about things like recovery time, and Will has fed him to bursting.
He can feel Hannibal's come leaking out of him, slicking down his sore perineum, soaking the hair around his balls and half-hard cock. He moans weakly, and tilts his head to let Hannibal nuzzle and lick over his bared throat.
"I suppose I deserve that," he says with a laugh.
Hannibal's arms tighten around him in answer. "You deserve the world," he replies, with no shred of irony, of a tease. "Every kill I can bring you, every jewel and fine silk and treasure. Every gift and gesture of love and adoration I can provide. For the rest of time."
Will shivers, and presses his lips together. He knows what Hannibal is building up to – he has lived on this Earth for a very, very long time. Hundreds of years, from what he's told Will. Alone, without companionship more than fleeting liaisons to sate the occasional need.
He has never offered another the gift he has offered Will. Many times. Will believes him when Hannibal tells him that. Hannibal has a habit of getting soft and sentimental whenever Will lets him close, desperate as a touch-starved animal, seeking its mate, its pack, its home.
He flattens a hand over Hannibal's, laces their fingers together.
"Maybe we can talk about that," he says quietly.
Hannibal lifts his head, a curious and hopeful rumble in his chest.
"Later. I'm very dizzy with blood loss and starving so I probably shouldn't be talking about it now. But…later."
Hannibal's smile is wide, and he tilts Will's head to one side and leans down, kissing him deeply. No fangs; the time for bloodshed is over. This is soft and long and steals Will's breath, nevertheless.
When Will needs air, Hannibal releases him, his eyes bright and red. He pulls away from Will, their skin sticking together so it's more like a rip than a seamless separation, but that's always been how they are. Will is unsteady and requires Hannibal's help rolling onto his back and sitting upright.
Hannibal kisses his forehead, a low purr constant in his chest. "Rest, darling," he murmurs, and kisses Will again. "I will feed you."
Will smiles, and lets Hannibal coax him back down and pull the ruined sheets up around his shoulders. Hannibal kisses his hair and breathes him in deeply, before he departs, leaving the room and rushing downstairs faster than Will's eyes can follow him, in order to prepare a meal for his beloved mate.