Work Text:
Scratches
I
If an orchestra had been playing at the exact moment Hannibal saw Will Graham in heat, it might have begun Mozart's Requiem, or the deep resplendent tones of Arvo Part's Tabula Rasa. As a painting, the moment would have been golden with Rembrandt's exceptional light, the grim shadows perfectly curving across dew wet flesh or even Caravaggio's deep darkness bursting onto warm, toned skin.
“What are we doing,” Will had said, “I hope you know because I don't.”
Hannibal had run his thumb against Will's brow, the precious mind encased in fragile bone.
“I'm taking care of you,” Hannibal had said.
Will had hesitantly smiled, the kind that knew the phrase was already loaded against him. But little did he know, it was actually loaded against Hannibal.
“I was fine before,” Will said, “without your help.”
If Hannibal had a more fragile ego, it would have eroded under a maelstrom of feelings. Instead he smiled under the harsh kisses he pressed to Will's reddened mouth and held Will's wrists in his hand against Will's own hopelessly mussed bed.
“I can't stop,” Will had said, “can barely think. Is this normal?”
“Yes,” Hannibal said, “it happens with an alpha on occasion.”
It was a half lie but Will had believed him entirely. Even as Hannibal kissed his tender mouth and tasted the fevered sweetness pounding through Will's body.
“I-,” Will stuttered, “I need you, again.”
It was a phrase wrung out of someone as strong as Will, a testament to how much he hated to admit weakness. Will's heat, so ravaged and off balance from his illness had been tipped over into an extraordinary coupe that would slit his psyche open.
He had, after all, already tried to kill Hannibal once at the start of his heat in desperation to have a mate inside of him. Something Will would have never done a few months prior. The pieces would fall soon and Hannibal would be the first to gather them up and arrange them as he had designed to facilitate Will's liberation from the chains he had so carefully wrapped around himself. Will's fears and the morality he clung to in order to dispel them would quail and shudder under a such an onslaught, until they were little more than phantoms dancing in the twilight.
“Please,” Will's breathless whisper against Hannibal's mouth was so sweet.
His perfect equal. Or he could be, with some encouragement and proper motivation. It was a waste having Will Graham attached so closely to the FBI and to Jack Crawford, whom Hannibal admired for his exceptional intellect but disliked for his abuse of Will's unique talents. It rankled him slightly that Jack had gotten there first, had begun to mould Will into the perfect profiler. But there was no other alpha who had ever held Will and taken him, listened to him beg on all fours besides Hannibal himself and that had meant something.
“Get on your knees,” Hannibal said, “and I'll give you what you want.”
Will nodded, his gaze hungry and maddened by the heat that seemed unrelenting in its intensity. Will's back arched, his lordosis in full swing and a needy sound coming unbidden from his throat. His wet, pink inside was exposed as his thighs quivered. Hannibal admired the view, as each time Will's body became a little more used to it, a little more savaged. It was perfect and beautiful watching him change from a penetrative virgin to utterly debauched, his movements becoming trained to alien wants.
Already Will was showing signs that his brain infection was taking a grimmer turn, his sense of self was beginning to dissolve and crumble under the onslaught of the men and women Jack Crawford had Will empathizing with each investigation. Hannibal pressed his thumb gently into Will's hole and heard him moan.
“Don't tease,” Will hissed, “I can't stand it.”
“I won't,” Hannibal said, “I'll give it to you now.”
“Our baby?” Will mumbled.
The intense haze that had driven Will over the edge had ebbed slightly, he was confused momentarily over what he had been so desperate to receive before. Hannibal would dispel his doubts.
“Yes,” Hannibal whispered into Will's ear as he pushed himself firmly into his body, “ours.”
Whatever had caused Will to stall was vaporized when he was penetrated. His voice stuttered and Hannibal listened to its tortured tones, the sounds comparable to the most beautiful music on Earth. Hannibal watched Will's lordosis arch his back, force his hands to turn into fists in the sheets, nearly tearing the rough bed linens and felt Will's thighs clench tightly as though unable to let Hannibal slide out even for a moment.
The thrusting was hard, fast and brutal. Will took all of it and Hannibal enjoyed every stroke until biology propelled him to seat himself as deep as possible in the body of his mate. He felt his thighs strain and his body jerk and convulse, settling his seed deep inside. Will matched him with gasps and moans and a quivering, hot body that latched onto his knot and kept it deep.
It was perhaps the fourth or fifth time, and while Hannibal was in excellent physical condition he was well aware that he wasn't a young man anymore. His muscles would be sore after Will had had his way all night. But undoubtedly their child would come together in Will's womb due to their coupling and this kept him limber enough for another round in the near future.
The heady rush that a victory brings does much to reinvigorate an alpha's body, or so Hannibal had concluded from his experiences during his hunts, from the victims that spasmed until their last miserable breath gave way to capitulation. Dangle the possibility they may get out alive and the pigs lived longer, giving him better meat.
Hannibal would be sure to feed Will well when given the opportunity so their child might be born with the hunger for life, as much as its parents were.
Will was panting from exertion and Hannibal helped arrange them on their side in Will's small bed so they could comfortably rest until Will's compromised system demanded another attempt.
“I-” Will stammered, “I don't feel right.”
Hannibal gently placed his hand on Will's forehead.
“You're running hot. I'll get you some water after you release me,” Hannibal said.
Will laughed a little, from embarrassment mostly.
“I don't know why I'm doing this,” Will said, his voice slightly panicked, “it's not like me. I'd be a terrible parent, I'd-”
Hannibal gently placed his hands over Will's eyes. It quieted him, as it would any omega. Their scent glands compensated for lost sight and it was a trick of their biology that allowed the calming effect on their bodies to happen in the presence of a trusted individual.
“Shh,” Hannibal said, softly into his ear, “we're doing this together.”
Will trusted him. Hannibal had earned his trust when Will had no one to turn to. When Jack and Alana had failed to provide him with answers to his most difficult questions. When he had considered that isolation might not be the only turn his life could take.
Hannibal nosed his throat as Will's body slowly relaxed into the dark, sedated space Hannibal had created with his hands and dripping honeyed words.
“Bite me,” Will whispered, “please.”
Even in the midst of his heat Will still longed for a release from his higher thinking. The memories forming and thoughts rushing through his head are still an agony, he sees them not as friends but tireless enemies pounding at his forts. Hannibal would alleviate his suffering.
He bites Will, not as deep as either of them would have liked, but enough to cause Will's entire body to shudder and seize and tremble through another orgasm. Hannibal groans against his neck as his knot is milked a little too soon to provide Will with what he wants but enough to send his hips jerking as if he could somehow tie them deeper.
Perfect crescent-moon shapes had been pressed into Will's strong arms by Hannibal's nails. They had both left marks on one another in more ways than one, Will was lucky he was only getting away with a few scratches.
Hannibal intended to sink his claws so deep into Will he wouldn't know where one began and the other ended. He breathed deeply the scent of blood on Will's skin and his sweat, his fear, his panic and his lust.
The scratches might fade before Will's pregnancy begins to show but the marks left inside of him will be deep. The child a doorway to a dark trauma that Hannibal is sure will send Will spiralling into his arms whether he wants it or not.
Will has subconsciously sought out the biggest predator in his life to protect him. He just doesn't know yet that the predator he has chosen is the same one stalking his woods at night.
The one who had already marked him as one of his own.