Chapter Text
Hannibal wakes slowly, to darkness. At first he is unsure where he is—he does not recall falling asleep, but as he meanders further into consciousness he realizes where he is and what he has done.
Will is wrapped tightly in his arms, still naked and still warm. It has been some hours since they made love, in the early afternoon, and Hannibal is shocked that he slept so soundly for all that time. He mouths thoughtfully over the mark of enflamed skin upon his shoulder—he would like to bite it again, to further seal his claim on his omega, but it would perhaps be better to wake him in a sweeter way.
As Hannibal shifts, rolls onto his back, he feels his cock still wet with the slick from their coupling. His knot went away at some point during their nap, and neither he nor Will seemed bothered enough to shift away from the other. He kisses Will’s shoulder, sucking lightly at the skin before releasing it at rubbing the stubble on his cheeks against the sensitized flesh. His eyes have grown accustomed to the dark of the room (the moonlight does much less than his alpha senses) and he gazes carefully over the outline of Will’s face, calm as he sleeps. He lets his kisses grow more and more vicious, visceral, his teeth nipping at the flesh. He aims to rouse his mate as gently as possible, but even his self control is subject to inherent limitations—at times.
Hannibal recognizes the moment that his darling comes into consciousness, gasping and pushing back towards the safety of his alpha all at once. He must feel Hannibal’s cock, already hard again, pressed at his backside because he lets out a single whining sound in surprise. Endearingly distressed. Hannibal rubs his hands up Will’s chest, over each nipple, so his fingernails graze lightly over the skin.
“Shhh…” He whispers, then, with one steadying hand on Will’s hip, shoves in all at once. Will cries out, his body pulled taught at the shock of being so full so quickly. Hannibal puts his palm to Will’s throat and uses that leverage to keep him close, to keep him from budging even an inch as Hannibal uses his wet hole.
But Will is not even remotely uninterested. His cock his half-hard (it is unlikely that it will become fully hard, but that suits Hannibal fine) and his moans have shifted from surprised to aroused—and pleasured.
“My good omega,” Hannibal practically purrs. “You feel so good around me. So hot and wet.”
He keeps the both of them on their sides, using the hand on Will’s waist and the hand on his neck to keep his mate still while he rolls his hips against Will’s ass, filling him repeatedly.
This time, Will slickens adequately as Hannibal takes him. The wet sounds of their sound out through the room, lewd and lovely and Hannibal grins against the bonding mark as he sinks his teeth into it.
“Ahh!” Will groans. His whole body tightens around Hannibal’s cock as his cums, his fingers fumbling blindly at the sheets. Hannibal takes his hand from Will’s hip (there will be bruises in the shape of his fingerprints to admire in the morning light) and reaches out to weave their fingers together.
“Hannibal…” The voice is light and breathy, entirely worn out. He thinks Will may say something further, but instead he just groans again and squeezes their fingers together, painfully tight.
Hannibal doesn’t knot Will this time (as much as he would like to) and instead spills himself across Will’s backside instead, painting him with cum. Will shifts like he wants to reach behind him and wipe it away, but Hannibal holds him tight, not allowing Will to shift more than a few inches. He lays his ear to the side of Will’s neck and listens to his heartbeat slowly shift from its erratic beating to a slower thrum as Will drifts back to sleep in his arms. Once he is sure Will is unconscious, he untangles their limbs and rises from the bed. For the sake of satisfying his visual curiosities, he quietly clicks on the lamp on the bedside table to look clearly at the state of his omega.
His hair is soft and lovely as always, but noticeably weighed down by sweat and how Hannibal tugged insistently at the locks while they copulated. Will cheeks are still flushed, rosy pink, and Hannibal doubts the color will truly leave until the hormones are worked out of his system. His body, meanwhile, is littered with bruises and blushing love-bites that Hannibal inflicted in his passion. The mark on his shoulder, specifically, is an angry, swollen sort of red, and the bloody indents of each of Hannibal’s teeth is incredibly distinct. Hannibal will continue to bite it in the weeks to come, to ensure it remains forever on Will’s skin, just as his alpha pheromones will remain in his veins.
When Hannibal enters the room again, it is eight o’clock and the sun is streaming through all the windows of the house. Will’s dogs were accommodating to him, as he spent the hours sitting in Will’s living room taking care of a few things (although he did give them a piece of sausage each for their acceptance). He let them outside when they wished to, and let them back in when they yipped at the door. Gave them fresh water and gave in to a few of the younger ones’ need to receive affection. Will has them well-trained, it is true, but there cannot be so many in Hannibal’s house, especially in the center of Baltimore. Perhaps Will can keep one and Hannibal can find a nice farm for the others to inhabit. Will could visit them whenever he so desired.
Inside Will’s bedroom (with the dogs shooed away in the corridor) Hannibal finds a still sleeping Will, sweating and even more tangled in the sheets then when Hannibal left. He has been thrashing, Hannibal knows, and he regrets he had not been present to keep him safe from nightmares.
He cracks one eye open when Hannibal crawls back into the bed and moans happily when he receives a kiss (whines when it is only brief). Hannibal smiles down at Will, who is truly at his most perfect, and receives a sleepy grin in return.
“What time is it?” Will asks.
“Just past eight. You’ve slept for quite a while.”
“Haven’t slept that well in ages,” Will murmurs, yawning. He thoughtfully scrapes his teeth over the swell of his lower lip and it takes every ounce of self control to not steal that sweet flesh for himself.
“The body can sometimes fix itself, to be at its most healthy. Perhaps that is what this is.”
“This,” Will echoes. “We’re mated now.”
“Yes,” Hannibal whispers. He lays on his back and pulls Will on top of him, so he’s laid across his bare chest. “I apologize that it happened so fast. Are you pleased?”
“I think so.” A pause. “Yes. I am. I haven’t felt this good in a long time—ever, to be honest. I suppose I have you to thank for it.”
Will does not know to what degree Hannibal is responsible for his comfort, but Hannibal nods nonetheless. “You are quite welcome.”
“And for—for being patient with me. I’m sorry, I know I’ve been—“
Hannibal cuts off his unnecessary apology with a kiss, long and gentle—he finally captures that lip he so coveted. He says, “You don’t need to apologize. You have done nothing but be entirely perfect.”
Will angles his head to look into his eyes and for a moment Hannibal struggles to remember Will before this change. His memories have been contaminated to the point that all he can remember is Will like this, sweet and soft. It is now difficult to imagine him as an alpha with this lovely omega, laying atop him.
“While you slept, I took the liberty of paying a dowry price of ten thousand dollars to the District of Columbia Humane Society. Given in your name. I thought you would approve.”
Will’s mouth drops open, overwhelmed—both at the amount and at the kind gesture. His fingers grip at the hair on Hannibal’s chest, and the alpha can imagine how his darling’s heart must be aflutter.
“You didn’t have to…” Will murmurs. He shifts (all his muscles are likely sore from exertion) and when Hannibal feels his bare skin moving against his own it strangely alights all his nerves, like electricity. Will seems to feel it too (although it could be attributed the ever-insistent heat hormones, fervent in his veins), because he suddenly moans and dips his head to the junction between Hannibal’s shoulder and neck. The position places Will’s bonding mark just in reach of Hannibal’s mouth—it is too tantalizing to resist. He runs the flat of his tongue along its curve, over the flesh he’s marked as his.
“You may consider it… me spoiling you.” The words are spoken against Will’s skin, so the hot breath they ride on fans out across his skin. The sensation makes Will arch his back, bury his nose deeper to scent at Hannibal’s pheromones. Hannibal closes Will in his arms. He is aroused, but this moment is so calm, he can’t bear to break it.
Although they dwindle, the heat hormones that Hannibal gave Will do not leave entirely for a week. In that time, Hannibal arranges all the documentation necessary to have Will as his bonded omega, including sex change on all documentation (a government worker had to see Will for that to happen, as adequate signatures would not suffice). Although the government officials are skeptical on how Will could possibly have shifted status, Hannibal is able to maneuver around the negotiation process with a complaint to a close friend from the opera board with a high government position. After that, it is easy to register he and Will as mates. With a lack of guardian, Will signs off on the ten thousand dollar dowry to the Humane Society.
Then, what’s done is done. Hannibal moves Will into his home. Because Will seems so attached, he decides to keep Will’s home in addition to his own. Hannibal promises to hire someone to come by the house on days when Will cannot manage to drive all the way to Wolf Trap. The house is better than any farm for the dogs and Hannibal appreciates the idea of using it as a sort of vacation home for the two of them (after it is properly refurbished, of course) so they may leave the havoc of the city whenever they please.
Finally, after Will is properly settled into his home, he arranges with Jack for him to return to work. Hannibal knows that Will’s precious mind would wither with disuse, and that his mate is not accustomed to home life. He was an alpha, after all, until recently. Living within the traditional confines of an omega could result in Will begrudging him. Though his ultimate plan is for Will to stay home and keep up Hannibal’s household, he knows that such a lifestyle will need to be brought on his mate slowly. In increments.
When Hannibal comes home from his meeting with Agent Crawford (who barely puts up a fight at allowing Will to come back; he is obviously lost without him) Will kisses him with the news. Hannibal takes him to bed immediately, knots him for good measure, whispering how he’ll need to be sure to keep away from rival alphas and to remember who he belongs to. Will sobs with the pleasure and arches off the bed—promises to be good and not disappoint his alpha.
Hannibal says, “I love you,” like the words are the most precious he has to give and there are tears in Will’s eyes. They bond to one another, and it feels as if eternity has already come and gone.
“By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.”
Nikos Kazantzakis