Chapter Text
The guards aren’t great about bringing Will his suppressants.
Will has always been conscientious about taking them every day, at the exact same time (8:05 AM), as prescribed by his original andrologist.
But some days the pills come late, and some days they don’t come at all.
Will knows he’s the only omega in the facility. It’s extremely rare for an omega to commit violent crimes; they aren’t usually aggressive, even under traumatic situations.
Of course it's a well known stereotype that unmated omegas get increasingly neurotic as they age (mated omegas, of course, maintain their mental health and wellbeing with the benefit of their Bond). But they usually turn that inward, becoming depressed or self-destructive.
Will is going to be famous.
Will asks politely about his pills. The guards ignore him.
The next day, Will wakes up feeling nauseous and dizzy. The smell of the breakfast tray makes him sick.
He backs himself into the corner of his cell, feeling himself pant, trying to calm down. He hasn’t had a heat since his first one, when he disgraced his father forever by presenting as an omega. He’s from a family of all solid Betas, seven generations back. He’s been on the suppressants ever since.
“Aw, fuck,” says the guard, when he comes to take the untouched tray away. He can smell it, Will realizes – the sweet slick oozing slowly from his asshole.
Someone triggers an alarm, and more guards come. Will is wrestled to the ground and pinned. Being touched by anyone, even these Betas, is agonizing. He fights being muzzled for once, but he’s held down by his hair while they get it strapped in place. His legs are shackled. He’s whimpering senselessly as he’s dragged to the medical wing.
“It’s too late for the drugs to kick in now,” the doctor concludes, after a truly humiliating medical exam. Will is actually grateful that the hormones are clouding his thinking.
He figures he’ll be locked up and left to deal with it himself. He hopes they at least bring him some supplies – sanitary pads and penetrative toys. Surely it would be considered cruel and unusual to let him make a mess of himself without relief?
But to his surprise, he isn’t taken back to his cell. The doctor pulls his elastic-waist pants back up and guides him up off the examination table he’s bent over. He’s urged to climb up on top of it, and buckled down with thick cotton straps.
Will is too tired to fight. The restraints feel like security. He tugs at them a little, just to feel how they won’t give.
He knows some omegas like to be restrained during their heat; he never thought it applied to him before. But even the muzzle feels good now, tight around his lower face. Will feels … locked down, squared away. It feels good.
The doctor shines a penlight in his eyes. “He’s pretty far gone,” he observes. “Sometimes long exposure to suppressants has this effect.”
There’s a thermometer in his ear. Will doesn’t like it. It doesn’t matter what Will wants. His temperature is taken.
“Approximately normal,” says the doctor. “Not long now. Is his Alpha on the premises already?”
“Yes, doctor,” says the nurse.
There’s something wrong with that, Will thinks. Something not quite right. But he’s enjoying how tightly wrapped up he is, and it’s hard to concentrate.
The doctor pats his cheek above the muzzle. “You’re going to be feeling a lot better soon,” he says. His voice isn’t unkind, and Will blinks. It’s probably the kindest anyone has been to him since he arrived here.
The door opens. “Doctor,” says the doctor.
“Doctor,” says somebody else. Will feels an intense wave of heat run over him. He groans, fighting the restraints and enjoying the fact that he can’t pull against them. This is what he wants. It doesn’t matter what he wants.
“I’m glad you were able to obtain permission for a conjugal visit,” says the doctor. “This would have been very hard for him, with as long as he’s been on the suppressants.”
“I admit, I was relieved myself,” says a voice. Such a familiar voice.
Someone taps his cheekbones. “William.” A thumb rubs over his cheek, and Will finds that he can still move his head to turn into the touch. “William, open your eyes and look at me, please.”
Will wants to obey. That’s his job. His ass is so wet, it’s dripping down his thighs. It hurts. It’s too empty.
He opens his eyes and looks into Hannibal’s placid face.
Conjugal visit, thinks Will. That’s only for Bonded pairs, because it's dangerous to separate them. Hannibal is an Alpha, but not his Alpha. Right?
“I would have called you sooner, but I didn’t realize Mr. Graham was Bonded,” says the doctor.
“I was not aware of it myself, until Doctor Chilton contacted me with his theory that William might have Bonded unconsciously. It … may explain a good deal of his behavior.”
Hannibal is not his Alpha. Hannibal is lying. Will can’t remember why he should care.
“I’m going to take this off, Will,” says Hannibal kindly. One of his strong hands slides under Will’s head, lifts it up off the bench. Will lets the whole weight of his skull rest in Hannibal’s palm.
Hannibal’s competent fingers unbuckle the back of the muzzle. He’s gentle as he lifts it away from Will’s face and wipes Will’s chin, which is damp with condensation and possibly drool. His hand is still supporting Will’s head.
Will purses his lips together, vaguely trying to communicate what he wants; he needs pressure, contact. His lips are tingling, although not as much as his backside, which has begun to pulse and clench with want.
“That’s my good boy,” says Hannibal. Calm, his voice is so implacable and calm, like cool, soothing water compared to Will’s feverish heat.
Hannibal rubs his thumb over Will’s wet mouth, and Will opens readily to suck it inside. He moans softly in pleasure. Filled, he wants to be filled up; his mouth, his ass, his head. He tries to lift his hips, offer them to Hannibal, but is prevented by the straps.
Somewhere under his elegant suits, Hannibal has a knot that would fill Will up so nicely.
“I need to get you out of these restraints,” says Hannibal, sliding his thumb further into Will’s mouth, almost threatening the back of his throat. Will has a vague sense of Hannibal sliding something so deeply into his throat that he’d choked.
He wants that now.
Hannibal begins to loosen the straps. Will whines. He doesn’t want to be free. Free is unsafe. Being unable to move, unable to do anything but accept; that's safe.
“It’s alright, Will. Sh sh sh,” Hannibal soothes. “I need to move you so we can deal with your heat. Can you be good for me?”
Will can be good. Will can be so good, if only Hannibal would let him.
Hannibal gets him sitting up, unbinding Will layer after layer. He lifts his shirt off over his head. Now Will is panting in the chill air of the medical suite. Hannibal wipes his sweaty skin with the shirt, lifting Will’s arms like a child, blotting his arm pits. Will sags forward, into Hannibal’s chest. He’s shivering.
“Pants, William,” says Hannibal, tapping Will’s thigh, prompting him to stand. His legs barely support him when he slides off the exam table. Hannibal kneels down, still fully dressed, to guide Will’s pants down his legs and off his feet.
Will is naked except for his (laceless) canvas shoes, which Hannibal has left on for some reason. His feet look even more vulnerable with no socks.
Hannibal’s hands skim over his legs, his chest, inspecting him casually. “They’re not feeding you properly,” he notes. “I’ll have to fatten you up when we get home.”
“Feed me?” says Will, slurring the words. “Home?” He looks into Hannibal’s face, questioning. Trusting.
“You’re going to plead insanity, Will,” Hannibal explains, guiding Will to sit back on the examination table. “As an older omega with an unconscious Bond, you were not responsible for your actions. You concocted this scheme to get my attention. That’s why you’re so fixated with me, even now.”
Will nuzzles his face into Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal smells amazing, feels amazing. He’s aware of Hannibal’s hands between his knees, spreading his thighs, stepping between them.
“Of course I’ll be petitioning the court for your guardianship. You’re my Bonded omega, after all. They won’t deny me the right to keep you under house arrest in my home. I am an eminent omega psychologist.” Hannibal presses him down by his shoulders, lifts his knees up, opening him.
Alpha.
“You’re going to be so happy, sweet William, when you’re entirely mine.”
Will wonders vaguely if it's true that they're already bonded. It won’t matter in another minute; when Hannibal knots inside him, they will be.
“Relax for me, my good boy. I’m going to check between your buttocks, see if you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you for our first time.”
Anything Hannibal can do for Will’s aching, twitching hole will be a relief. Will presses eagerly into the touch of his cool fingers, holding him spread with one hand while the other probes at his tender place.
“You’re very slick,” Hannibal murmurs, sliding in one finger. Will gasps, throws his head back at the pleasure.
“Have you ever been taken this way, William?” Hannibal begins to gently fuck the finger in and out of Will’s wet, sloppy hole. “Hmm?”
Will shakes his head no. He’d lived like a Beta until now, only having sex with Beta women, never letting an Alpha touch him. He can’t remember why, now.
“Lovely,” says Hannibal, pressing in another finger. “You’re going to be so tight and warm around me. You’ll take my knot so sweetly, won’t you William? You’ll beg me for it?”
“Yes,” says Will, pushing back against the fingers. “Anything.”
“Put your hands above your head, William. Hold them there for me.” Will does. It stretches his naked body out, reveals all of him to Hannibal’s gaze. “I like you like this, William. Is your mind nice and quiet for once?”
Will nods.
“Do you need me to tie you down? Would you like that? If you tell me, I’ll do it for you.”
“Please,” says Will. “Please, yes.”
“Here we go. These are strong, heavy straps. They’ll hold you nice and still while you're fucked, no matter how hard I choose to go.”
“Hard,” murmurs Will, tugging on his newly-restrained arms.
Hannibal kisses him, tongue aggressively shoved into Will’s soft, helpless mouth. His fingers are still buried inside of Will. It’s over too quickly, Hannibal pulling away.
“Spread nicely for me now.”
Will does, as much as he’s able. He lifts his legs to either side of Hannibal’s trouser-covered hips. Hannibal opens the front of his pants but doesn’t get undressed any further.
He wants to see Hannibal’s cock – wants to suck Hannibal’s cock, wants him to knot in his mouth – but Hannibal doesn’t let him look. He just shoulders his way in, the head of his cock spearing so nicely up behind Will’s balls, into the hungry, soaking center of him.
Will drops his head back and lets himself be taken, barely making an effort to participate as Hannibal shoves his way in. It still hurts a little, even with Will so wet and loose, but Will likes the pain. It’s going to kill him when Hannibal knots. He’s going to be torn apart, and he glories in it.
“That’s right, William. Just let this happen,” says Hannibal. “This is your true purpose, isn’t it? It's not your job to find killers anymore. Just to do what I say."
Will nods sleepily in agreement. If he lifts his head he can look down and see his naked legs, spread wide and vulnerable, faintly ridiculous. Hannibal has his hands under Will’s knees, holding him open, pulling Will back onto him with each thrust. Will can feel his buttocks jiggling, feel Hannibal’s heavy balls slapping against him.
“I’m going to put my knot in you now, Will,” says Hannibal, dropping one of Will’s legs but shoving forward so it's forced up over his shoulder. “Can you feel it? Hmm?”
Will can feel it, now that Hannibal has said something. Something rubbing at the stretched rim of him, nudging against him on each stroke.
“It might hurt a little, but I know you can take it,” Hannibal continues. “Be good for me and take it.” He increases the strength and speed of his strokes, and Will groans faintly, feeling himself stretch impossibly further. Hannibal slams into him hard, and Will hisses, and something pops in, and Hannibal stops moving, just pressing in deep without withdrawing. Will can feel it expanding inside of him, pressing against his sensitive walls, demanding more room. It does hurt, and Will doesn’t realize he’s moaning until Hannibal’s hand drops over his mouth, forcing him silent. And still Will sobs and slobbers into his palm.
Oh God, he’s literally going to split. Hannibal is huge inside of him now, bigger than a fist, and still expanding, still rocking deeper with those shallow thrusts. Will groans and hisses and stretches further.
He feels it when Hannibal comes. It’s like a firehose in his ass, spraying his insides. Will thinks he tastes it in the back of his throat. He’s nothing but a sloppy mess down there, his own slick and Hannibal’s come, and Hannibal locks them together, plugging Will up with all that inside him.
“Good boy,” says Hannibal, stroking back Will’s sweaty hair, his other hand still pressed firmly over Will’s mouth. "That’s my good, good boy, William. So good for me. See how hard you’ve made me come? That's what you needed, isn't it."
Will grunts in agreement. He doesn’t want Hannibal to take his hand away, and Hannibal doesn’t. He doesn’t make any move to release Will’s arms, either, even though they ache with the stretch of being tied above his head, and his back hurts from being folded up under Hannibal.
“When we do this at my house, William, I’m going to tie you naked to our bed,” says Hannibal meditatively. “You’ll be on your belly, barely able to move, and you'll fall asleep like this, with me locked inside you. And you’re going to wake up in the night to find yourself already knotted again. Will you like that?”
Will nods. Hannibal shifts a little, testing the tie. It’s already going down a little, but he doesn’t pull out.
“Are you feeling better?” Hannibal asks.
Will nods behind his hand. He doesn’t feel quite as craven, quite as desperate. He remembers why he should be afraid of Hannibal now. Hannibal is the one who put him here. Hannibal is a killer.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. They’re bonded, and whatever Hannibal is, he’s Will’s, forever.
“We’re going to have such a beautiful life,” says Hannibal, kissing his cheek.