Chapter Text
There are a few keenly interesting things about Will Graham.
For one, he is the most fidgety person Hannibal has ever met. If he has a drinking straw, he’ll chew it. He nibbles his cuticles until they bleed. He shreds his paper napkins, picks at loose threads from his sweaters. Hannibal suspects he does this so he has something to focus on rather than other people’s faces: a simple defence mechanism to avoid engaging others on a deeper emotional level.
Another thing is that Will has “abnormal empathetic insightfulness”, as Jack so eloquently puts it, which rules out a possible autistic-spectrum diagnosis. To work as a forensic profiler with the FBI at such a young age is practically unheard of; Will has already helped to solve a number of high-profile cases in his short time with the BAU (except of course, the case that matters most), and doesn’t Jack enjoy toting him around like a well-trained puppy that can perform a particularly cute little trick.
Most interesting thing of all, however, is that Will Graham is an omega.
Hannibal had concluded this shortly after his first few meetings with the young, fresh-faced detective. Specifically, Will is an unmated omega masquerading as a beta in order to stay employed with the FBI. Hannibal is nothing if not a connoisseur of human behaviour, and although Will doesn’t quite smell like an omega, he certainly acts like one, lacking the natural self-assuredness of his alpha and beta counterparts. Like Will, most omegas are quiet to the point of withdrawn, yet are reliant upon others for emotional support: classic Cluster C behaviour. What really tipped Hannibal off, however, was the way that Will always avoided eye contact with him. Omegas are thought to do this with foreign alphas out of instinctual deference. When he does make eye contact, it seems forced, unnatural, as though he’s constantly reminding himself to act more ”beta”.
Hannibal is sure Jack knows, simply by the way Jack obsessively shadows him around every crime scene like a protective mother hen – reluctant, perhaps, to let him be alone with other alphas. It had been Jack’s idea for Will to visit Hannibal’s practice, in the hopes of sorting out whatever neuroses that are bound to arise from working with the BAU. In that time, Hannibal found himself becoming more and more attracted to the omega; he had sensed that there was something different about him from the start. To avoid raising eyebrows, Hannibal had extended his dinner invitation to both of them, but was both pleased and uncharacteristically caught off guard when Jack cancelled at the very last minute. So, when Will showed up on his doorstep, alone, beautiful and lost, with a bottle of mid-priced pinot noir, Hannibal’s predatory instinct went into overdrive.
The thing is, Hannibal is not just an alpha. He’s a thoroughbred alpha: homozygous for the alpha allele. It’s quite rare, but it endows him with certain advantages over heterozygous alphas. For one, his sense of smell is sharper: up close, he can detect Will’s fresh, clean omega scent through the rancid beta musk. He packs on muscle easily. He has more haemoglobin in his blood stream, delivering twice the oxygen to his muscles and granting him almost inhuman endurance. He has better lung capacity and his heart pumps more blood per beat than an average man’s. In short, Hannibal is built to fight off the competing claims of rival alphas. Any omega who could have him as a mate would consider him or herself quite fortunate, indeed.
It’s not just that Will is an omega, either. It’s not even that Will happens to be an especially lovely omega, although that certainly doesn’t detract from his appeal. Mainly, Hannibal thinks, it’s because they must be compatible mates: perfect complements to each other emotionally, physically, genetically. And Hannibal would know that’s not something one comes across every day; he’s already had more than a few omegas offer themselves up to him in the hopes of being pair-bonded, and who could blame them? Hannibal’s a thoroughbred with money and status to boot. Strong and vital, he’s sure to sire healthy, genetically fit children. He could afford any omega he desired.
The only omega he wants, however, is Will.
Will hides his status well enough to pass, Hannibal supposes, by masking his natural scent under layers of pheromone blocking deodorants and synthetic beta scent. No way would an unclaimed omega be able to work with the FBI; those alphas would have eaten him alive if they could properly scent him. Hannibal’s superior sense of smell, however, was not so easily deceived. Strange - seeking work in the outside world is not characteristic omega behaviour; most are content to busy themselves solely with house and hearth. The world can be a hostile place for an omega without an alpha at his or her side, particularly when that omega is as lovely as Will.
He’d have to be very talented for Jack to go through all the trouble to hide his true identity like this.
“Good?”
“Yeah, good. Really good. Delicious.” Will says, rushing to swallow so he wouldn’t speak with his mouth full. “This really is too much....You shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble for only me, Dr. Lecter.”
“Not at all, Will. Your promotion to the special investigations unit is a worthy celebration. Shame Jack could not make it, but it’s probably for the best. I thought it only proper for us to have to get to know each other since we will be working together so intimately.” Will shifts in his seat and smiles weakly, as though he knows he’s entered in the lion’s den but is too committed to the farce to be able to back out now. “And please, no need for formalities. We’re friends here, yes? Just Hannibal is fine.”
“Hannibal.” Will repeats, testing the sound of it across his tongue. “Such a strange name.....but you must get that a lot.”
Sweet, neurotic Will: his leg trembles restlessly under the table with pent-up, nervous energy, particularly when he says or does something he thinks he shouldn’t have. Always fidgety – but then, that might just be a by-product of the suppressant medication. His body must be craving the catharsis only a proper heat will bring. Hannibal suspects he channels his repressed urges into obsessive-compulsive and somatic outlets. Pity. Having an alpha to rut and gentle him would do wonders for his anxiety disorder. Without the natural release that estrus cycles provide, Will’s body would no doubt go into a full-blown heat at the slightest provocation. It would only take one small crack for the dam to burst.......
“I prefer to think of it as distinctive.” Hannibal says, cutting into his lacquered duck breast briskly, deigning to play along with this trite, genteel dinner party small talk for now. There certainly are other sounds he’d prefer to be hearing Will make.
“Why would your parents name you that? I mean,” Will pauses, unsure of how to continue. It’s charming, the way Will is naturally afraid of offending him: omegas have evolved to want to please alphas since they have little means of defending themselves should the alpha choose to attack. When he continues speaking again, it’s in a softer, more supplicating tone. “I mean, it’s just unusual is all.”
Hannibal sits back in his chair languidly and places his napkin on his cleared plate. “What do you know of Carthage?”
Will fiddles with own napkin, anxious of giving the wrong answer. “Oh. Um, Hannibal, the general? Didn’t he cross the Alps with a bunch of elephants or something?”
“Yes, very good. I was named after him. One of the greatest military commanders of all time.” Hannibal says. “He came so close to defeating the Roman Republic in the second Punic war – so close to wiping its existence off the face of the earth. Do you know what would have happened had he succeeded?”
Will shakes his head. His curls bounce a little with the movement and Hannibal pictures how they would look splayed across his pillow.
“Imagine a world without Rome’s legacy, without the legal, infrastructural, political and geographic foundations that Rome laid down. Without Rome, there would have been nothing for Christianity to cling to in its infancy. There would have been no collapse, no barbarian invasions. No Dark Ages, no Renaissance. The Western world might never have existed at all.”
It’s quiet for a minute as Will considers this. “Huh. I never thought of that.”
There is a long silence and Will squirms in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. He pushes his food around on his plate, tracing small designs in the sauce.
Once the silence becomes intolerable for him, he says, “My name’s pretty plain, but I guess I have kind of a strange middle name: Shannon. Like the river in Ireland. People in America use it as a girl’s name but, uh, it’s actually unisex.” He winces slightly, like he wishes he’d thought of something better to say. Hannibal has noted before that Will finds it hard to carry a one-on-one conversation without having Jack present to act as a buffer.
“William Shannon Graham.” Hannibal says thoughtfully, although he already knew this from reading Will’s file - but then again, his file also lists him as a beta. “It suits you.” He adds a hint of warmth to his voice, just to see how Will will react, and is pleased when the corners of Will’s lips tug up in a small smile.
“Yeah you too,” Will says, then takes another bite of his duck breast. He clarifies: “I mean, your name suits you. Not many guys could pull it off. Hannibal. Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” His leg jitters under the table and he makes a self-conscious chuckling sound. It’s rather enchanting, the way Will rambles nervously to fill the silence. He must feel the way he looks – distinctly out of place among Hannibal’s fine things: the aged leather-bound books, porcelain cabinet, belle époque antiques. Unkempt and fragile as he is, Will Graham is to become Hannibal’s most valuable treasure.
“Do I frighten you, Will?” Hannibal inquires politely, like he doesn’t already know the answer. Most omegas find Hannibal’s natural alpha-scent rather intimidating, more so when they’re unmated.
“No,” Will unconsciously picks at a nail, and Hannibal raises his chin slightly in a subtle act of dominance, seeing through the lie. Will revises: “Well.....yes, a little. But you have quite the reputation at the BAU. I mean, the guys on the force all talk about you. They say you’re the most brilliant forensic psychologist on the East coast. It just a little....nerve-wracking is all, to work with someone like you.”
Hannibal waves his hand flippantly, although he already knew this. “I hear about you as well.”
Will looks up hopefully .“You do?”
“Yes. I know you closed the angel-maker case. Very impressive, for one of your age.”
Will blushes shyly. Responsive to praise, yet modest. Perfect.
“I wish we could have brought him to trial, though. Bastard killed himself before we had the pleasure.” He sighs. “Well, the important thing is that that psycho is off the streets.”
“Would you care for dessert?” Hannibal rises, taking his and Will’s plate.
“Yeah, that sounds great – um, do you need any help?” This must make him uncomfortable, as an omega, to have an alpha clear the table for him. Soon enough, Hannibal will let him assume his natural role: Will will do the dishes for them after Hannibal’s prepared their meal, will make sure Hannibal’s suits are all dry cleaned and pressed for the upcoming work week, will scrub Hannibal’s kitchen floor on his hands and knees, rump in the air. The thought alone sends an unexpected pulse of heat down Hannibal’s spine.
But for now, Hannibal shakes his head and gestures with his hand as Will makes to rise. “No please. Sit. Relax, finish your wine. You’re my guest, Will.”
Will obeys reluctantly and sits back down in his chair. He takes a larger than normal swig from his wine glass.
One thing Hannibal has come to appreciate about Will is his sincerity, particularly in regards to his compliments. He could not be deceiving if he tried, which is why Hannibal takes it at face-value when he takes a bite of his salted caramel crème brûlée and exclaims, “God, that’s amazing. That might be the best dessert I’ve ever had. I would have never guessed you were so good at cooking,” he takes another bite, “Well, except for the fact that your dinner parties are all anyone talks about.”
“Fine food is among life’s greatest pleasures,” Hannibal says. “Among other things.”
“Well you’re certainly talented. I can barely boil an egg.” Will says, taking another bite and making a tempting little mmm sound out of sheer pleasure. Hannibal watches as a tiny bit of the dessert dribbles down his lip and is promptly licked away with a smooth swipe of Will’s pink-slick tongue. Hannibal swears Will will be his undoing.
After supper, Will insists that he help Hannibal with the dishes, and Hannibal relents, if only to watch Will scour the dirty pots, forearms-deep in soapy water. He’s passing the scrubbed plates to Hannibal one by one and rambling idly about life with the BAU, about Jack, about his insomnia, about his parents, anything and everything. He still thrums with nervous energy, but at least having something to do - something within his natural comfort zone – is helping him open up somewhat. Hannibal listens patiently, taking each plate from Will in turn with his dish towel to dry.
Will is halfway through recounting the last time he’d sleepwalked and awoken in a nearby farmer’s field when one of Hannibal’s fine porcelain plates slips from his soapy hands, shattering on the hard kitchen tile.
Will freezes mid-sentence, eyes wide in instinctual fear. “Oh God, sorry! Shit. I’m so sorry, it just slipped.....” He crouches down on the floor and tries to gather the larger shards. “I’m such a klutz....”
“It’s alright.”
“Fuck, I'm so sorry.....I could replace it, or something. I....or was it part of a set?”
He scrambles to collect all the pieces, even the smallest slivers, as if he could undo the damage by the sheer speed with which he clears away the evidence.
It’s only then that the significance of their respective positions becomes apparent: Will kneeling on the floor, Hannibal standing over him. The urge to approach him hits Hannibal hard in the chest, and he does so, cautiously, as though Will were a wild mare that needed breaking in. He has to be patient lest he prompt a startle response in the omega: Will is programmed to flee at the barest hint of a threat, and although Hannibal’s undoubtedly physically stronger, Will is probably much, much faster.
Carefully, carefully.....
“Easy, easy now,” Hannibal’s not sure if he says it aloud or just thinks it. Will is as flighty and skittish as a newborn fawn; Hannibal is mindful of the fact that one wrong move and he’d run. Oddly, that just made Hannibal want to keep him here, warm and safe under Hannibal’s protection, all the more.
There’s my good boy.
It feels like a huge accomplishment when Hannibal finally brings his hand to rest on Will’s soft curls, even though Hannibal's barely made three steps towards him. Will immediately stills. For one tense moment, Hannibal thinks Will will bolt, but instead he exhales, leaning into the caress until his forehead is resting flush against Hannibal’s strong thigh. Hannibal pushes a little further and slides his fingertips just under Will’s shirt collar to caress the downy skin on the back of his neck. Will lets out another breathy sigh. He likes this, kneeling at Hannibal’s feet. It is, after all, an omegan modal action pattern, a display of complete surrender and trust. If Will’s status wasn’t obvious before, it certainly is now.
This close, Will’s scent is salient enough that Hannibal can practically taste it. Underneath that repulsive synthetic beta scent, Will smells fresh, clean, untainted by the musk of a rival alpha, as pure and immaculate as freshly fallen snow. Showy as it may be, the primal urge to dirty Will with his own scent so that all the other alphas would know this one was his bubbles fervently in Hannibal’s chest. Will may not acknowledge it, my resist it, may try to mask it under chemical camouflage, but deep down he craves the authoritative dominance of an alpha-mate like every other of his kind. And Hannibal will be the one to cater to this need.
Will takes a shaky breath in, scenting Hannibal in return and unconsciously clinging to his pant legs. Hannibal holds very still to allow him access. Hannibal himself is not unaffected; the arousal he’d been feeling all evening prickles inexorably underneath his skin as Will performs this enticing little display of submission. Hannibal hadn’t intended on making his proposal tonight, but his restraint is beginning to fray - he’s already shown far more restraint than most alphas in his position. In a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, Hannibal decides that this will happen tonight. This will happen now.
Hannibal tilts Will’s face upwards with a finger under his chin and leans down, taking care not to startle his skittish omega. He just needs one kiss. One kiss and the floodgates will be opened.......
“Wait, Dr. Lecter,” Will says breathlessly, cheeks flushed, breaking the silence. He starts as though he’s just awoken from a hypnotic reverie. “Wait, I can’t do this.....we shouldn’t –“
Hannibal pulls back.
“You knew, didn’t you.” Will states, his shoulders slumping. “You knew before I got here.”
“For some time, yes.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“I would not be much of cognitive-behavioural therapist if I could not tell an omega from a beta.”
“Please don’t tell anyone what I am,” Will says softly, looking at some faraway spot on the floor. He doesn’t move to stand up. “If the guys at the bureau knew......”
Whether he would like to keep his secret is moot; he’ll be pregnant soon enough, probably even from this upcoming heat cycle. He needn’t worry - Hannibal will kill anyone who dares touch him.
“You’ve suppressed too many of your heats,” Hannibal says gently, stroking his hair. “It’s not good for your health, Will. How long has it been since you’ve had one?”
“I don’t know. Not since I was seventeen. Eight years.”
Hannibal indulges in the thought of seventeen year old Will in heat, of him humping his pillow in his bedroom, fingering in his hole, trying desperately to find relief.... Pity Hannibal did not know him back then. He would have paid triple Will’s dowry for the honours.
“Eight years,” Hannibal says thoughtfully. Sixteen missed heats. “Why do that to yourself?”
Will ducks his head. When he speaks it is barely audible. “It makes me feel like an animal.”
“Will, Will,” Hannibal soothes, already finding himself wanting to calm his flighty omega, “Aren’t you tired of fighting your body’s natural desires? Of constantly having to put up this facade? It’s not wrong to want what you want, Will, to not be in control all the time. I can give you that. Let me ease your burden. I would take such good care of you.”
“The FBI needs me....” Will chokes out weakly, “Jack needs me. I see things, terrible things. People will die if I quit, Dr. Lecter, and if it’s in my power to stop it, then that is my cross to bear. If I were mated I’d have to stay at home, then what would happen? I....I couldn’t live with myself if someone died because of me......because I was too weak......”
Of course. Jack, Jack, Jack. Jack is no doubt the one putting him up to this work, at the expense of Will’s own biological needs, to further his own career.
Hannibal pulls him up gently by the arm and presses him up against the counter. Will slumps in Hannibal’s grip, unresistant, as though he’s relieved to finally be able to relinquish control to an alpha.
“You still can work, Will. I wouldn’t stop you, and you wouldn't have to hide anymore. My scent would repel the other alphas. You can have both, Will. You can work and I will take care of you.” Hannibal rests his hand on the back of Will’s neck. “You could do worse than to have me as your mate.”
“I should go,” Will says weakly, although he makes no move to leave. “I’m sorry, please, let me go. It’s not.....it’s not legitimate....” He tries suddenly to squirm past Hannibal, but Hannibal crowds him up against the counter and traps him. Will’s burning hot against Hannibal’s chest and it’s crumbling Hannibal’s defenses.
“I’ll pay.” Hannibal growls. At this point, he’s willing to say or do almost anything to keep Will from fleeing. “I would never dishonour you like that. I'll pay. Who is your guardian?”
“I’m twenty-five, I don’t need – “
“All unmated omegas have a guardian, Will, even twenty-five year old ones.”
Will swallows, hesitant to say it aloud. “Jack.”
It is as Hannibal suspected, but he feigns surprise. “Jack? Not your parents?” It’s amazing that Will is still a virgin, seeing that Jack has had mating rights to him all this time. Jack might be a pair-bonded alpha, but he is only human, after all.
“Jack paid my dowry to free me from my obligation to be mated so that I could work.” Will adds in a quiet voice: “I don’t think he’ll be very happy about what we’re doing.”
Hannibal doubts that. In fact, this must be exactly what Jack has in mind, sending his unmated, beautiful omega ward into a wealthy alpha’s home, to tempt Hannibal like this. If Hannibal were to take Will’s virginity without proper compensation, Jack could sue him for many times Will’s original dowry price. Hannibal knows Jack’s fallen on hard times since his wife was diagnosed with cancer; perhaps Will is becoming more of a financial burden than an asset and Jack is seeking to get rid of him and make some money on the side.
Hannibal envisions grinding up Jack for a lovely Québecois mince meat tortière.
“I’ll reimburse him. Double, triple, whatever it takes.”
Will shivers. “Then I’ll belong to you.”
“Ah, but you want that, don’t you Will?” Hannibal leans more of his substantial weight against him. “Look what I could give you. You know we’re compatible, that we’re a perfect match. You would be mine, yes, but you'd be more free than you've ever dreamt possible. Or do you want to live as Jack’s property for the rest of your life?”
Will’s resolve is sinking. The instinctive urge for him to submit submit submit is beginning to overpower his rational mind. He just needs a little push in the right direction.....
“Do you want me to force you?”
Will freezes, eyes wide and innocent, and makes the most beautiful whimpering noise, high pitched and airy. The desire is there, underneath the fear. Hannibal can smell it, like heat and fevered sweetness. Will wants this. His body wants this. And, more importantly, Hannibal wants this.
Hannibal repeats, more insistently this time: “Do you want me to force you, William?”
Will shrinks against the wall, eyes are glued to the floor, lips pursed, as Hannibal waits patiently for his answer. He could force Will either way; He’s bigger, stronger, more muscular. He could rape him through his heat. He could pay Will’s dowry and have legal mating rights over him, regardless of whether he had Will’s consent or not. He could move Will into his home and forbid him from leaving without Hannibal at his side.
Hannibal could do these things.
But he won’t.
And he thinks Will must know this.
It feels like an age before Will finally, subtly, nods his head once in acquiescence. It’s the in Hannibal’s been waiting for.
Hannibal leans forward, keeping Will in place with the firm weight of his hand on the back of his neck. He kisses him tentatively, needing to get just the right amount of saliva into Will’s body to help ease him into compliance. The natural analgesics, anxiolytics and oxytocin in Hannibal’s saliva will help induce the sexual response reaction in the omega by stimulating his dopaminergic pleasure pathways, overriding his suppressant medication and causing a hormonal domino effect that will ultimately trigger a heat. He eases Will’s mouth open gently with his tongue, taking heed not to rush. His patience pays off: Will moans and surrenders completely to the kiss. Encouraged, Hannibal fumbles with the collar button on Will’s shirt and slides his open palm under the fabric, down Will’s front, reveling in feel of his smooth, dewy skin. Soon Will will be too far gone to resist; Hannibal estimates he’ll be fully sexually receptive within a half hour.
But that scent. That beta scent. He wants it off. He needs to be able to scent Will properly, without having that wretched musk taint him. Hannibal breaks the kiss to find Will charmingly dazed, his eyes glazed over.
“I want you to go take a shower. Scrub that filth off your skin. I will take care of Jack.”
Will nods demurely and Hannibal guides him to his master suite. He seems hesitant, at first, to cross the threshold of Hannibal's bedroom, but complies when Hannibal tugs gently on his hand. Once he pads into the bathroom and closes the door, Hannibal reaches for his cell phone.
Jack answers on the fourth ring.
“You must think you’re very clever,” Hannibal says without preamble.
“I don’t think so. I know I’m clever,” Jack replies, that smug bastard. “You’ve been eyeing him for some time, haven’t you, Dr. Lecter? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“How much?” Hannibal doesn’t have time for these games.
“He’s a virgin omega. Good-natured, obedient, eager to please. Fertile too, I have his medical records. He’s worth a pretty penny, I would say. I’m sure I could find more than a few alphas who’d be willing to loosen their purse strings for him.”
The thought of another alpha buying Will - touching Will - is distinctly unappealing. Hannibal growls into the receiver.
“If you send him back to me deflowered I’ll have you arrested.”
“I’ll pay. How much?” Hannibal repeats, imagining what Jack would look like going limp, the spark extinguished from his eyes, blood pooling on the floor underneath his lifeless body.
“I never meant to do this to you, Dr. Lecter, but you must understand the bind I’m in, what with my wife’s health problems. Times are tough. But tell you what: I’ll cut you a deal. Allow him to continue working in the field and I’ll lower his dowry-price. ”
“I was never intending on keeping him locked away at home.”
Jack pauses, perhaps mustering his courage: “I want one hundred grand for him.”
Hannibal is somehow not surprised. It’s probably a bit excessive, but an exceptionally lovely omega’s dowry could run upwards of seventy, eighty, ninety thousand dollars. If Jack thinks this is an exorbitant sum, he’s underestimated how wealthy Hannibal truly is. Moreover, he’s underestimated just how badly Hannibal wants Will for a mate, and Hannibal is not about to dishonour Will by haggling to lower the price.
“But he is pretty, isn’t he? Blue eyes, that mop of curly brown hair, long legs. Grew up dirt poor in Louisiana – his parents did not know his true value. Can you blame me for trying to turn a profit?”
Hannibal hears the shower turn off and is suddenly acutely aware that Will is naked just behind his bathroom door. There is no way Hannibal will back away from this now, not when he’s so close....
“You’ll have the money in your account by morning.”
Jack clicks his tongue. “I knew we could come to an agreement. Once it clears I’ll Fedex the papers to you. Pleasure doing business, doctor. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
Hannibal immediately calls his accountant, who is probably none too pleased about being bothered at this hour with Hannibal’s money transfer, but puts on a friendly enough charade for one of his most important clients.
“One hundred grand? For an omega? He must be something else.”
He is, Hannibal thinks, but doesn’t say so.
Hannibal hangs up just as Will emerges from the shower, wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, wet curls plastered to the side of his face. His lips are coloured the most attractive shade of dark pink with increased blood flow, and his pupils are dilated: the telltale symptoms of an oncoming heat. The chemicals Hannibal’s fed him are beginning to take effect, and he's starting to pump out heat-pheromones in return. Hannibal wants to devour him.
“It’s settled.” Hannibal states, and Will swallows nervously.
“How much did he want?”
“A fair sum.”
“Tell me.”
“You didn’t go cheap, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“More than fifty?” Will asks, and Hannibal doesn’t respond, so he continues incredulously, “Sixty? Seventy?”
Hannibal makes a noncommittal gesture and Will takes it as the affirmative.
“That’s.....that’s ridiculous. Twice what Jack paid for me. I’m not – I’m not worth that much.” Will sputters, but underneath his modesty Hannibal detects a flare of pride flash across his features. Omegas are known to take pride in their inflated dowry-prices; it can even physically arouse them. It is, of course, a status symbol, a sign that their alpha suitors are wealthy enough to provide for them and their future families.
Will is wrong, of course, but rather than say so, Hannibal decides to show him.
Hannibal rises from the bed.
“Come here." Hannibal says, and Will obeys, shuffling closer until their bodies are almost touching.
Hannibal reaches down and slowly unties the belt on the robe, then brings his hands up to gently tug it off Will’s shoulders. Will twitches nervously, but Hannibal shushes him with a caress to his cheek. The robe lands in a pool at Will’s feet, leaving him completely exposed.
Hannibal inhales sharply in as he drinks in the sight.
Unclothed, Will’s frame is decidedly more omega then beta – willowy and lithe, built for flight rather than fight. His skin is smooth, pristine, unblemished, dusted with a trail of dark hair from his bellybutton to the patch at the base of his cock. He’s lean with slim hips and long legs: a Ganymede, St. Sebastian, or Antinous. That he’d been hiding such beauty under those dumpy, ill-fitting clothes for so long somehow only makes Hannibal find him lovelier. There are a few old, yellowish bruises on his upper arms - Hannibal doesn't want to ask about them now, but if Jack had been the one to put them there, Hannibal won't give him much time to enjoy his windfall.
Will shrinks a little under his gaze, clearly self-conscious to be nude while Hannibal is still fully dressed. Nonetheless, he doesn’t flinch away when Hannibal finally reaches out to reverently trace the contours of his body with his fingertips.
“You are beautiful.” Hannibal breathes, and Will ducks his head bashfully. Like other omegas, he likes knowing his alpha finds him attractive.
Leaning in, Hannibal scents the pulse point of his neck. Without those synthetic masks and deoderizers, Will smells ......like pure warmth, sweet and heady, like a muggy summer night just after a heavy rainfall, or wet cedar, or fresh unbaked dough. Hannibal sinks into that scent, pure omega, untouched and pristine, and lets out feral growl that sounds foreign even to his own ears.
Will is becoming more receptive in Hannibal’s arms, rolling his hips against Hannibal’s and arching his back - symptoms of an oncoming heat. His sex is smaller than an alpha’s or beta’s, a vestigial organ that produces sterile seed, but is nonetheless responsive to stimulation. Hannibal rubs at him until Will’s gasping audibly with every stroke, then reaches around, past the soft flesh of his ass, to rub at Will’s hole with the pads of his fingertips. Hannibal’s cock twitches to find that Will is already so wet the slick is starting to seep down his thighs.
At that, Hannibal’s formidable willpower collapses. He’s achingly hard, his mind swims. The urge to rut throbs in the base of his skull, in the very marrow of his bones. When Hannibal kisses Wills again, it’s urgent, frenzied, open-mouthed and sloppy so that more and more hormones are forced into Will’s system. Hannibal kneads the flesh of Will’s back perhaps a bit too harshly, grips his hips a little too forcefully, but only because Will needs to be handled, Will craves being handled, and suddenly Hannibal’s not even sure he’s entirely in control of himself, either.
Will tugs at Hannibal’s now rumpled suit plaintively. “Please take it off.” His voice is higher, sweeter. More omegan. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
“You will,” Hannibal promises. “Easy, now, down you go.”
Hannibal guides Will down onto the bed by the back of his neck and Will instinctively assumes the classic lordosis pose - on his elbows and knees, legs spread, pelvis tilted up and buttocks raised invitingly to prompt the alpha to mount him. It’s a textbook perfect presentation, one that provides the best angle for deep penetration. It virtually ensures Hannibal will spill himself deep, deep within, thereby maximizing the omega’s chance of being impregnated. Will waggles his ass in small figure-eight motions and it’s the closest Hannibal’s ever come to believing in God.
“Mate me,” Will says, his voice a breathy whimper, “Breed me. Please, Hannibal. I need it. I’ve waited for so long.”
Hannibal strips himself of his suit faster than he ever thought possible and crawls on the bed behind Will, taking hold of his slim hips and kneading his ass until his flesh parts and the small puckered hole comes into view. Hannibal lets out a low, animalistic growl at the sight: tight, gleaming slick and pink – as only unmated, virginal omegas’ holes are. It is the most enticing sight known to any alpha. After his first knotting, it’ll turn a slightly darker color as a testament to Will’s new status as a mated omega: Hannibal’s mated omega. It’s remarkable that an omega of Will’s age and attractiveness has remained unknotted for so long. Hannibal would have liked to savour him like a bottle of Chateau Margaux, but finds he’s too frenzied with heat-fever to have much self-control anymore.
The first round of mating is usually done to establish the alpha’s mastery. Omegas enjoy being made to submit, even if they are resistant at first, because they need to feel the primal strength and virility of their alpha protectors. Hannibal knew this on a purely intellectual level, but finds himself acting accordingly on instinct, as nature intended. Hannibal positions himself behind Will, between his invitingly parted legs, and runs his hands up and down the length of his flank, then around to finger his pert, rose-coloured nipples. Will arches his back in response, clawing at the sheets and presses himself back, greedy and wanting.
“Please, please, please,” Will is chanting, as if it’s the only word he knows – the only word that matters.
“Are you certain, Will?” Hannibal asks, although his answer is superfluous. At this point, Hannibal wouldn’t stop even if Will asked him to. Couldn't stop. "You want me to mount you? Say it, Will. I want to hear you say it."
“Yes, yes, please Hannibal, do it, I need it, I want it to be you – oh.....“
Hannibal rubs the tip of his cock against Will’s hole and watches it clench rhythmically in anticipation. Applying firm pressure, Hannibal begins to press in until finally the rim gives way and, in one fluid motion, his cock is sheathed in Will's sweet, tight heat. The sweetest, most broken sob escapes Will’s lips as he is penetrated for the first time. Will feels incredible, velvet hot and slick inside, taking every inch of Hannibal’s cock so, so smoothly. Hannibal pulls out until just the tip of his cock is holding Will open, keeping still until he can’t bear it anymore, then slams in again with a sharp, violent snap of his hips so that Will would not mistake that he was being rutted by anything but true thoroughbred alpha. Hannibal smacks him on the ass once, twice, then curls himself over Will so that his body is enveloping the omega’s. He immediately begins to fuck him in smooth, firm motions, enough to rock Will’s body forward and back with every thrust. Will makes the most beautiful breathy noises with each punishing shove of Hannibal’s cock into him, his heat numbing the pain and heightening the pleasure. His skin is burning hot against Hannibal’s chest.
“Good.” Hannibal rasps into the sweat-sweet skin on the back of Will’s neck, one hand fisted in Will’s soft curls to hold him in place. ”Good boy. That’s it, Will, take it all. You feel incredible, so hot and tight. Take it deep for me. No one has ever touched you like this, hmm?”
"No one," Will groans, "Only you. Only you, Hannibal, forever."
There is only so much one can learn about alpha/omega copulation from medical textbooks, Hannibal discovers, as he’s fucking Will into a million tiny shattered pieces. For instance, he was not prepared for the euphoric high of having a fertile, receptive omega underneath him, writhing on his cock. The beta couplings he’d enjoyed in the past pale in comparison – like the difference between a fine artisan Roquefort and the mass-produced garbage Americans inexplicably seem to enjoy. Hannibal feels himself reacting in response to the heat pheromones Will is now emitting, as though they were meant to do this, meant to be together. It’s now certain they’re compatible: Will is just so damn responsive under him, moving his body in tandem with Hannibal’s with the singular goal of being impregnated. The urge to be bred, it seems, is as great as Hannibal’s need to implant his seed deep into the omega’s body.
"I'm going to come deep inside you. You want that, Will? Hm? You want to carry my child? I want everyone to stare at you, at your beautiful plump, swollen belly, and know that it is mine. Know that I did this to you. Because you are mine."
He punctuates his statement with sharp thrusts of his hips. There will be a time for soft lovemaking, but for now, Will needs it hard and fast and brutal. Hannibal tugs at Will’s hair, nips at his shoulder, leaves finger shaped bruises along his skin.
“Yes, I need it, please Hannibal, breed me, make me yours....oh, fuck.....”
“Come for me, Will, my beautiful boy. Come for your alpha, I want to feel it.”
Obedient little Will. He climaxes right on cue, crying out hoarsely into the pillow. Hannibal thrusts in to the hilt and holds himself there – he can feel his knot beginning to swell, and if it’s not positioned in exactly the right place, Will will either push it out or the tie will be painful for him. Will arches his back and tilts his ass up to facilitate the knotting process; his body is doing everything possible, it seems, to coax Hannibal to spill deep inside.
“Ah,” Will whimpers, “It’s big, too big...”
“You can take it, darling, I know you can. Just try to bear down on me....that's it......good boy....”
Will rolls his hips experimentally to accept Hannibal’s knot, his insides shifting to accommodate the bulbous protrusion.Then, suddenly Hannibal is coming with a feral roar, spurting hot torrents of come inside Will’s passage. It’s the most intense feeling Hannibal’s ever experienced and unquestionably the most satisfying orgasm of Hannibal’s life – both physically and emotionally. Prompted by orgasm, Will’s inner muscles stimulate Hannibal’s cock, pulsing rhythmically to milk every drop of come from the shaft. The contractions are so intense that it would expulse an inferior beta cock; only alphas are built to properly breed omegas.
When he can’t hold himself aloft anymore, Will collapses on the bed, spent, and Hannibal has little choice but to follow, laying flat atop his omega’s back and covering him completely with his body. There is nothing more soothing to an omega than being gently smothered under the weight of their alpha, particularly after a coupling. Hannibal's knot will keep them locked together for a good hour, unless Hannibal can wring another orgasm from Will in that time. Hannibal can no longer actively thrust, but if he can make Will come through other means, the natural contractions of Will's passage will coax yet another round of sperm from Hannibal's cock, thereby maintaining Hannibal's knot for a longer length of time and increasing the likelihood of impregnating Will.
Once Will’s ragged breathing evens, Hannibal twists his head around to kiss him, both because he wants to, desperately, but also because it will transfer more bonding hormones into Will’s system. If all goes well, Will will form a pair-bond with Hannibal. Should that occur, he’ll be hesitant to leave Hannibal’s house (especially if he becomes pregnant), which to him will smell warm and safe and comforting - a primal nesting reflex. Hannibal would also be able to gentle Will through his panic attacks, ease his anxiety with a simple touch or a kiss. The flood of oxytocin coupled with the knotting process is known to induce a bonding response in omegas, but it can also be facilitated by certain utterances: promises of fidelity, affection, and the like. Hannibal knew of this phenomenon intellectually, but the words seemed to flow off his tongue seemingly of their own accord, as though he was always meant to say them, as though he couldn’t hold them back even if he tried.
“I will take good care of you,” Hannibal rasps into Will’s ear after he breaks their kiss. He’s got him by the throat now, relishing the feeling of the blood rushing through his jugular with every staccato heartbeat. “Such good care of you. I will protect you, shelter you, provide for you, comfort you."
As much as Will’s rational mind would probably hate that kind of cliché alpha-talk, his omega primal brain, the part that evolved to be concerned for such basic, fundamental needs, yearns for it like an oasis in the desert. Will can’t help that he’s been hardwired by nature to seek a mate that can give him those things; nor can Hannibal help the fact that he wants to give them to him, more than anything. As expected, Will responds as omegas are wont, grinding himself back onto Hannibal’s knot and rolling his hips as though he were trying to experience the sensation of Hannibal’s cock filling him from every angle.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse from the constriction around his throat, “Yes, fuck.”
“I will kill anyone who dares to try to take you from me,” Hannibal continues, and he means it. God, does he mean it. If a rival alpha so much as smells him, Hannibal would serve Will their heart on a silver platter.
“Hannibal,” Will moans, working his hips more urgently around Hannibal’s knot and rubbing his own cock against the mattress.
Hannibal noses at his throat, taking in the rich smell of his sweat. “I will take good care of you, Will. You and the children you’ll bear me.”
At that, Will moans and comes a second time. The rhythmic contractions immediately induce another orgasm in Hannibal, who growls and floods Will’s insides with another round of semen. After a few moments, Hannibal manoeuvres Will onto his side (cautiously, so as not to tug at the place where they are tied) and lifts his leg so he can spoon him comfortably with the knot still nestled within. Will is exhausted, clearly, but still wanting, and it’s Hannibal’s duty as his alpha to relieve him.
“One more,” Hannibal nips at Will’s ear.
Will whimpers. “I can’t. It’s too much.”
“You can. You want to do this for me, Will. Let me give you more.”
Hannibal reaches down to where they are still joined, and rubs at the tender flesh stretched taut around his girth. Will inhales shakily and Hannibal probes further between Will’s legs to the space between his balls and his hole, pressing up into him to increase the pressure his knot is putting on Will’s sweet spot. Will jerks and cries out, already oversensitive. Hannibal can feel that spot inside of Will, engorged with blood, can feel where his cock is nudging up against it every time Will exhales. If Will won’t move, Hannibal will handle him. Hannibal takes Will’s hips in his hands and rolls them manually so that he’s pulsing over that spot gently with the tip of his prick.
“More than seventy, Will.”
“Wh – what?”
“More than eighty. Do you have any idea what you're worth to me?”
“Oh,” Will sobs, throwing his head back as Hannibal makes him rub at that little spot just so. “Oh my god, Hannibal...”
“One hundred thousand, Will,” Hannibal rasps, and suddenly Will’s coming again, emitting a broken, pathetic cry as he does so. He humps himself back and clenches his inner muscles sporadically and once again Hannibal’s coming too, spurting hot threads of come deep into Will’s passage over and over and over again. After he descends from the high, Hannibal can tell that the heat-fever has cleared: Will has been sated, although Hannibal suspects that by morning he’ll need to be bred again. His heat could last a week, maybe longer – who knows, considering how long he’s been suppressing them. Hannibal will have to clear his schedule to take care of Will’s need. But for now, they are both too exhausted to do anything except lay there in the same position in which they finished, basking in the afterglow of orgasm, with Hannibal’s arms wrapped tightly around Will’s waist. Hannibal rubs lazily at Will’s belly as he patiently waits out the knot. The alpha in him imagines that it feels almost distended from the amount of semen Hannibal has pumped into him, that if only he could somehow work it deeper by his ministrations he could ensure fertilization. Will is his, finally his, he thinks possessively, tightening his arms around his omega. He knows he’s being as affected by this as much as Will is, that bonding hormones are coursing through his brain to cement his bond with his mate. He would never have dreamt for it to feel so.....intense. He can’t describe it as anything other than bliss, lying here with his omega, relishing the skin-on-skin contact and the erratic in-and-out of Will’s breath against his chest. Hannibal swears he'll never let him go.
Will swipes down his face, trying to mask the tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Hannibal is not an empathetic man, but something about having an omega – his omega - in distress pricks at his mind like a splinter, and he feels the instinctive, yet uncharacteristic, need to soothe.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Wills sniffles, “I suppose. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”
“I'm not hurting you, am I?”
"No, no," There is a heavy pause. “It just.....I feel....overwhelmed. Like it’s too much. It’s good, but.... I can’t explain it, it’s just too much.”
That means the hormonal changes are beginning to take effect. To Hannibal’s infinite relief, Will is, in fact, beginning to pair-bond. It’s sealed.
“I will be good to you, Will.” Hannibal shushes, petting Will’s curls in an effort to gentle him through the experience. He presses a kiss to the back of Will’s sweaty neck. The lingering heat-pheromones make him smell so wanton. “I meant it when I said it.”
Will must trust him on this, because he’s already calming down and nuzzling into Hannibal, nestling himself deep into the curve of Hannibal’s body. His breath hitches once, twice, but he's otherwise completely still: stiller than Hannibal has ever seen him. No doubt it's because he's no longer fighting an upwill battle against his nature, because he's found a proper outlet for his pent-up energy. As the moments pass, his sniffles gradually grow softer, his breathing evens out. His hair is mostly dry now; his curls splay angelically across the pillow, just as Hannibal had envisioned.
“One hundred? Really?”
Hannibal smiles. “Only.”
Will turns his head and twists his body, as much as the knot within him will allow, and tentatively sweeps his lips across Hannibal’s. The kiss is gentle, languid, perfectly sweet, with none of the frenzy of the heat. When Will pulls back, his eyes are wet and tears are catching on his dark eyelashes. In that moment Hannibal swears Will is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“I’ll be worth it, I promise.” Will says quietly, breaking the silence.
Hannibal never believed otherwise.
***
~ One month later ~
Having another body in his home is a new (and somewhat trying) experience for Hannibal, particularly when said body is nesting and is busy reorganizing all of his things. Hannibal has to remind himself over and over that it’s just a biological reaction to being mated - Will is asserting his territory through the laborious process of rubbing his scent all over Hannibal's house - because Hannibal can’t find a single damn thing anymore and it's beginning to drive him crazy. It’s not as though Will had many belongings of his own to integrate into the household, no doubt because Jack had kept most of his paycheck all those years. It felt rather tragic that all of Will’s worldly effects had fit into three measly moving boxes. Hannibal vowed that from now on Will will have everything he could ever want - everything that's in Hannibal's power to give him.
And that is how Hannibal came to find himself unlocking his front door with a golden retriever puppy tucked underneath his arm.
“Will, darling,” he calls, “I'm home.”