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When King wakes up he continues speaking as if he hadn't been dead to the world for nearly two days.
“-and seriously, are you fucking insane? I'm a vampire hunter it's my job to kill sick undead fucks like you who like to prey on children-”
“Five dollars to the bad word jar!” Zoe chirps cheerfully from his left, causing him to freeze and then glare at Drake, who is standing behind her, smirking.
His mouth going on automatic, “I'm pretty sure I only owe three.”
“Nope. You said the 'F' word twice.”
“Anyway, the jar is back at our super secret base, so-”
“We have one here,” Drake rumbles, smirking at Hannibal over Zoe's head. He reaches out and ruffles Zoe's hair, and she tilts her head back and grins at him. “Although, everyone else has to put in fangs.
Huh.
“How many so far?” King can't help himself the question.
“119.”
“I ain't donating to your fang collection sweetheart.”
She rolls her eyes. “'Course not.”
Forcing himself back on topic, Hannibal waves a hand in the direction of the door and tells her “Grown-ups have to talk now sweetheart, go play.”
As she cheerfully skips off, he has a moment of panic over the fact that he just sent an eight year old off to play in a building full of vampires, but Drake correctly interprets his expression.
“They will not harm her,” and Hannibal doesn't know why he trusts Drake but he does, so he relaxes for a few seconds in relief before remembering Drake turned him into a goddamn vampire.
“You egotistical fuck-” he starts, but then Drake does the thing where he blurs like a ninja and has him pinned to the bed with his hips and hands and mouth,
Which effectively shuts Hannibal up.
The kiss is hard and dirty, with just the barest edge of pain and threat from Drake's fangs and Drake's tongue sliding hot along his, and Hannibal feels his canine's elongate and his dick harden in response.
When Drake breaks the kiss and moves so he's on all fours above Hannibal and Hannibal tilts his head back to look at Drake's face and not-so-accidentally barring his throat, he has to grind the palm of his hand against the base of his dick to keep from cumming.
Stupid fucking Sire-Childe bonds with their stupid fucking mental links.
But Drake ignores his offered neck (Hannibal is not disappointed) and slides off the bed. He stretches arrogantly, knowing his Childe can't help but watch and want. Then he's all business.
“You must feed.”
Fuck that noise.
That refusal, of course, is the reason he ends up pinned to Drake's throne with Drake's dick up his ass in front of all Drake's lackeys.
He should have known better – after all, this isn't the first time he's played the fang game. Danica and Asher used to pass him around like a party favor, and while he could technically refuse to do something that they wanted him to do, it never went well for him. And it's a shoo-in that refusing Drake, who was the mother-fucking Father Of Us All, would garner the same (or worse) results.
He can feel Drake following this thought process, and his amusement at it and his inability to say that shit out loud because Drake is hitting his prostate on every fucking thrust and it's kinda robbing Hannibal of the ability to form a coherent sentence.
His voice a rumbling purr in his chest, Drake's mouth next to his ear, “My bloodline has thinned over the past few thousand years, or you would have known there is more than one way for my children to feed.”
It takes effort, but he manages to pant out “Calling me your child while you have your dick up my ass is fucking creepy, stop it,” in between his moans and whimpers.
Drake's response is to thrust harder.
Which, of course, was Hannibal's ulterior motive, because he's so close and if Drake would just – and then Drake bites him.
His vision goes white as he cums, splattering over the seat of Drake's throne as Drake gives a final hard thrust and spills inside him, mouth working at his neck. Hannibal keeps his trembling arms braced on the arms of the throne as the bite extends the pleasure of his orgasm.
Drake eventually pulls back, and Hannibal lets himself slump to the dais in front of the throne. He can feel Drake smirking at him, but he's so high right now that he doesn't give a fuck.
Drake sounds amused when he asks “Are you going to challenge me again?”
Letting his head loll to the side and meeting Drake's eyes, Hannibal drawls “Probably.”