MIA PYRETES GLYKIA // A FEVERED SWEETNESS

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/49258147.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Relationship: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Hannibal Lecter,
Omega Will Graham, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating, Mating Bites,
Emotional Manipulation, (only a little bit for Hannibal's standards),
Gratuitous Food Metaphors, Hand Feeding, Feeding Kink, Frottage, Anal
Sex, Anal Fingering, Scenting, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore,
(really not that gory - rated for sex not violence), Autistic Will Graham,
POV Third Person Limited, hannibal's POV, Coming Untouched, Plot
What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-08-10 Words: 8,867 Chapters: 1/1
 MIA PYRETES GLYKIA // A FEVERED SWEETNESS
by QueerOldDad (queerolddad)

Summary

Hannibal's nose never fails him. It can detect the most minute changes -- even in a person's
biology.
And Will Graham is changing.

Notes

Well would you look at that, it's another first for me! Several in fact... Hannibal/Hannigram,
ABO... somebody stop me.
I personally love ABO dynamics and think it works incredibly well for Hannigram, but I've
stayed away from both because I wanted to do them justice. I hope it's not too oc considering
the circumstances.
I'm not super invested in the weird anatomy of ABO so you'll notice it's not super explicit as
far as literal genitalia goes lmao

Note: the fic is rated primarily for SEXUAL CONTENT, NOT VIOLENCE -- there is some
blood, gore and murder mentioned but if you can get through the show it's much more mild in
comparison. It's not the focus of the fic, just wanted to make that clear for anyone who's
easily squicked (though if you are and you're still in this fandom, I salute you)

As always, the translations are via google and linked in the text & in the end notes.
Thanks again so much for reading <3
~Q.O.D.

P.S.: If you're following HAUS OF MIRRORS, I have NOT abandoned her, I just needed to
get this fixation out real quick lmao

See the end of the work for more notes

 PHASE 1:

PROTHERMANSI // PRE HEAT

Hannibal had known what was wrong with Will Graham the instant it reared its heavily
perfumed head — that part of the affair was relatively straightforward.

Will had been meandering around his office in his usual fashion, like a new puppy sniffing
his way around in an endearing combination of curious and skittish. Hannibal trailed behind,
unwilling to put too much distance between them lest he lose the ambrosia of Will’s scent. It
was still new, but its loss was already unfathomable, the cushions and drapes of his mind
palace thoroughly steeped in it.

So Hannibal was intrigued to find the scent he had so giddily committed to memory subtly
but undoubtedly altered. It was sweeter, almost syrupy, which in turn highlighted its natural
heady musk. It made his scent, already so enticing to Hannibal, utterly intoxicating. His heart
spasmed, mouth filling with saliva. A primal thrill went through him at the realization,
lighting up his synapses like it was the very last time they’d ever fire:

Will Graham was in heat.

Hannibal’s typically immaculate control faltered, just long enough to drive him forward into
Will’s space.

“Did you just smell me?”

Hannibal reluctantly moved his nose away, the organ nearly grazing the scent gland at the
base of his throat.

A path was unfurling in Hannibal’s mind. He watched it wind down from the marble steps of
the palace, on into infinity before promptly splitting down the middle. He looked between the
two routes, considering.

“Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like
something with a ship on the bottle.”

Will Graham’s status couldn’t have been less surprising. The man had some sharp edges— a
bark that promised an even harsher bite. But it all coalesced into the infinitely complex man
he had come to know. His abrasiveness, sometimes deliberate avoidance of social cues and
imposed isolation were all intricately constructed coping mechanisms. Whether consciously
erected or otherwise, they acted as diversions, throwing anyone too curious off his scent —
sometimes quite literally — to avoid uncomfortable conversations and egregious
assumptions.

Hannibal thought he could be forgiven for nearly any transgression considering his
overwhelming capacity for empathy. Even for an omega it was extreme and without any sort
of grounding, his work with Jack Crawford left him open to give and receive without
discretion. Once, at his dinner table, when he caught Will gazing glassily at nothing in
particular, Hannibal thought of him as a lighthouse: a stalwart figure with singular purpose
and whose only keeper remained irrevocably and agonizingly lonely.

It was why he was unsurprised that Will wasn’t forthcoming with his gender. It was prudent
if not outright necessary for him to hide it if he wanted to be taken at all seriously in the
alpha infested coliseum that was the FBI. Although, ironically, his unique demeanor attracted
a fair amount of suspicion all on its own.

The next realization came by degrees, a burgeoning flame that was fed with the hours of each
passing day: as the weeks dragged on, Will failed to enter full estrus. This was unheard of, at
least in any of the medical circles Hannibal ran in. There had been a few studies over the
years concerning the suppression of heats through non-medicinal means, but they were few
and far between and never stretched beyond a week. Once the first few pheromones trickled
into the bloodstream, the omega was looking at a full blown heat in twenty-four to forty-eight
hours.

But it had now been twenty one days and four hours since those sirens of biology had first
called to Hannibal. Each day passed with the two of them in his office or in the field, with
Will Graham as composed as he could ever manage to be.
Until this very moment, in which Hannibal Lecter stood in his entryway and took in the
wretched thing quivering on his doorstep. It seemed the path had branched once again.

༺═──────────────═༻

“Your killer is an omega. And they’re entering estrus.”

Hannibal almost surprised himself with the statement, the thought only half formed before he
had let it spill forth into the stagnant frost of the morgue.

Will’s head snapped up, eyes uncharacteristically locking with Hannibal’s.

Jack looked back and forth between the two, eyes narrowing. The verbal tennis matches
between the two were becoming more and more common, leaving Jack wavering between
fascination and irritation.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Yes, professor Lecter,” Will tacked on, gaze unwavering. “We could all use a refresher on
gender biology 101.”

Hannibal broke his gaze to look around the room, the scent of alpha both oppressive and
rousing.

“From the Greek: prothermansi, literally translated as ‘pre heat’.” The Greek rolled off his
tongue, his years of medical training easily revived. “It heralds the beginning of an omega’s
fertility cycle. It typically begins twenty-four to forty-eight hours before full estrus. The
omega’s body is preparing for breeding and will seek out various possible mates. This means
they can become overly attached or needy. They may not behave ‘rationally’, acting out or
deviating from their personal beliefs. They will begin to feel feverish, experiencing elevated
body temperature and excessive sweating. They will eat and drink more, begin to show
‘nesting’ behaviors like ensuring their space is clean and comfortable. Their moods will be
less stable than is typical —“

“And what would you say is typical for omegas, Dr. Lecter?”

He let his gaze drift back to Will’s, his lip twitching in want of a smile.

“It would, of course, depend on the omega.”

“Of course.” Will’s gaze was magnetic, unusually rocksteady. Hannibal met it brazenly, the
room narrowing until it was just the two of them and the eviscerated alpha on the table.

“Well,” Jack cut in with the grace of a door slamming. “It seems your medical expertise
knows no bounds, Dr. Lecter.”

“I find myself engaging in a great deal of personal research.”

“There were feathers found in the victim’s windpipe,” Beverly Katz cut in. She was the only
beta in the entire forensics department and frequently made it known to both the team’s
chagrin and Will’s delight . She held up a single beige feather, limp with mucus. “They didn’t
quite reach his lungs but they got close. They must have been ingested before death —
there’s no cuts to the throat or chest but they’re really deep in there.”

“He was panicking,” Will hopped down from the examination table he was perched on,
crossing his arms as he approached the cadaver. “Rapid, forceful breaths would force them
deeper into his esophagus.”

“So our omega stuffed him like a throw pillow?” Zeller was looking increasingly baffled,
slimy latex gloves smearing his lab coat where they rested on his hips.
“Making the alpha softer perhaps?” Hannibal stepped up to the table, placing himself in
Will’s direct line of sight. “A soft place to land?”

Will didn’t reply, eyes trained on the corpse.

Hannibal savored Will’s scent, cutting through the sensory noise, yet never quite as strong as
he’d like it to be. If his nose wasn’t so fine tuned, he might never have smelled it at all. It
forced him to be in close proximity, a careful dance he wasn’t sure Will knew he was
participating in. He looked down at his watch: four days and ten hours.

“Why would they do that?”

Will looked up at Hannibal, silently urging him on.

“Because they know who they want as a mate, but their feelings are unreciprocated. They’re
trying to turn these alphas into their alpha.”

“Love the one you’re with, I suppose.” Price turned to look at Zeller, his eyebrows comically
raised.

“Remind me not to ask you for dating advice.”

༺═──────────────═༻

“Will?”
The empath was nearly bent in half, one hand gripping the door frame for dear life. He
positively reeked with a confusing potpourri of scents — there was Will’s base, the damp soil
and sun-warmed chlorophyll of him, then the almost sickly sweet layer of his heat, drowning
his scent in great globs of warm treacle. And then a new, third layer — one he felt he should
recognize, the flavor tucked somewhere in a deep dark corner of his palate. He resisted the
urge to shake his head, the miasma of Will once again jerking at the controls of his mind.

“Will?” He repeated himself, voice thick with trapped pheromones.

Will raised his eyes, the action a Herculean effort. They fixed around Hannibal’s throat, too
much energy devoted elsewhere to attempt eye contact. His glasses were filthy, a spider web
crack running through the right lens. Even through the grime he could see Will’s pupils, wet
and unfocused, rolling about in his head like a doll's eyes.

“Hann—“ he choked on the name, inadvertently tugging at Hannibal’s heartstrings. He

wavered as if about to collapse, prompting Hannibal to push the door wide and scoop up
under the man’s outstretched arm, hoisting him upwards against his shoulder.

As he bundled Will across the threshold, another piece of the puzzle slotted into place.

Will was drenched, due, he had assumed, to the excessive sweating induced by heat — but
when Hannibal maneuvered him into the light of the foyer, he was struck dumb by the radiant
vision that was Will Graham slick to the skin with blood.

Hannibal felt his pupils dilate, a thick fog rolling over the windows of his mind palace. He
grappled for control, only allowing himself a single deep inhale. The acidic tang of cooling
blood saturated him, Will’s natural scent all but dispersed now. Hannibal easily maneuvered
the man to an armchair, but he didn’t sit, only propped himself up against the broad back.
Hannibal surveyed the man in the dim light of the living room, stunned into silence. He let
himself luxuriate in the moment, shedding his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves at an
unnecessarily glacial pace. He finally turned back to Will, methodically lifting each arm so
Hannibal could remove his jacket. The army green was tinted nearly black with the large
splashes of gore that intersected across the front. He pushed it easily off of his shoulders,
watching it crumple to the carpet in a wet heap. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone
and the others had been mismatched by frantic fingers. Hannibal breathed slowly through his
nose, running his hands along the sticky column of Will’s throat. His fingers dipped in along
his shoulders and collarbones, seeking out a wound he was increasingly certain he would not
find.

“I’m Will Graham, it’s Thursday, 12:35 AM, I’m in Baltimore Maryland and…I’m definitely
going insane.”

“You’re not going insane,” Hannibal replied, cocking his head. “Merely evolutionary biology
doing its job.”

Will managed to look even more perturbed, eyes squinting where they fixated on Hannibal’s
pocket square.

“I haven’t felt right for…for I don’t know how long.” His vivid red fingers clenched
restlessly against the chair back.

“Do you really not know what is happening to you, Will?”

“I know what’s going on I’m — I’m sick. Some kind of—of— infection, maybe?
Encephalitis?”

“Will, you’re an omega.”

“I’m aware,” Will snapped back, seemingly unsurprised that Hannibal knew such a thing.

“Such symptoms are not only fairly common but even frequent. Expected.”

Will’s face smoothed out, his Adam's apple bobbing on a swallow.

“It’s not that.”

“Not what?”

“It’s not — I’m not —.”

“In heat? What’s so impossible about that?”

Will scrubbed furiously at his face, smearing the gore into his hair.

“How would you know,” he mumbled, sounding every bit the petulant teenager.

“I’m a doctor, Will. I’ve treated many omega patients both in my surgical practice as well as
in psychotherapy.”

A long moment passed in relative silence before Will’s head jerked to the side, as if a twig
had snapped, lifting his head to find he was staring down the barrel of Hannibal’s gun.

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I could smell it on you immediately. But I find it highly improbable that you were wholly
unaware.”

Will sneered, canting his head in that offended way that made him look like a frustrated
puppy. He swatted Hannibal’s hand from his skin, the action pained as if he had recently
wrenched that shoulder.

“Are you implying that I’ve been — what, fighting it off?”

“You have a singular mind, Will, it naturally follows that the rest of your biology would be
just as unique.”

“Why? Why would I — do that?”

“Because you dislike a lack of control. You have a difficult time trusting yourself let alone
anyone else. Estrus triggers a series of physiological reactions that you are not entirely in
control of and drives you to put yourself at an alpha’s mercy.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Will had jerked himself away by degrees until he was seized by an intense cramp in his
abdomen. He bent sharply at the waist, gripping white knuckled at the sideboard.

“You can only outrun your biology for so long, Will.”

“I take suppressants,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to the tabletop. This confirmed
Hannibal’s theory concerning his dampened scent, still enticing but without the revealing
gender markers.

“Have you experienced full estrus before?”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Will fisted his hands in his curls, tugging hard enough to hurt.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Hannibal waited a long beat, weighing the worth of his honesty. He found surprisingly he was
no longer interested in having the upper hand. Will was here: he had already won.

He placed his palm on Will’s lower back, feeling his immediate shiver. He dragged it in a
slow slide up over his shoulder blades, up over his neck until he was cupping the base of his
skull.

“I wanted you to come to me of your own volition.”

“This is hardly of my own volition —“ Will struggled to get the words out, too busy trying to
keep himself from bucking his head into Hannibal’s palm.

“You could have had any number of alphas the past weeks, but you refrained. Why is that,
will?”

“I don’t understand,” his voice was taking on that strident tone, all the muscles in his body
drawing taught, desperate to conserve energy. “Why now? Why —“

“As I said, your biology is clearly unique. But your body knows what it wants. If the
attraction is strong enough, the compatibility high enough…”

Will’s shaking was becoming more pronounced, the lack of layers revealing how his frame
trembled in the firelight.
There was a long pause as Will grappled for control over his body. He managed to turn to
face Hannibal again, eyes like frosted glass.

“You could have forced me.”

Hannibal let out a primal noise at this, a short growl that sucked all the air out of the room.
Will instantly stilled, every muscle going rigid.

“I have no interest in forcing an omega. It is the mark of a truly pathetic alpha to take an
omega without consent. It is the giving in, the final step forward that makes the hunt
worthwhile.”

“I’m being hunted then?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. You’re a fisherman, Will. I think you tend more towards the lure
than the catch.”

Will didn’t respond, only pushed himself back to standing. Hannibal took a few steps closer
to him.

“You sought me out — not simply because I am your therapist, but because you’re in need of
an alpha.”

The muscles in Will’s shoulders flexed in time with Hannibal’s footsteps.

“How did you know I was an alpha, will?”

“You know how I knew,” Will sneered, like a bratty child. “I smelled you.”
“What do I smell like?”

Will spun on him then, his eyes alight with that surprising fire that went to Hannibal’s head
like the finest wine. In the next moment, Will’s hands were fisted in Hannibal’s shirt and
waistcoat, shoving him in a surprisingly strong surge into the mantle of the fireplace.

Hannibal could feel the flames licking at his finely tailored wool trousers, the heat setting his
lower back to dripping underneath his button down.

“You smell like mine ,” Will growled, bearing his teeth in a very un-omega like gesture, the
incongruity of it sending a fizzle down the alpha’s spine.

Hannibal’s breath hitched on an inhale and he growled, reaching up to tangle his fingers in
the omega’s curls and yank.

The whimper Will let out, accompanied by the flutter of his eyelashes, long tendrils of amber
beating against his cheeks like moth’s wings— stretched Hannibal’s resolve to its absolute
limit.

“You had a choice, Will. Whether consciously or not you chose to fight it. Just like you chose
to come here.”

Will shook in earnest, admirably putting up a fight to lower his chin.

“What do you want, Will?”

“It doesn’t feel like I have a choice.”

The smaller man shook apart, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.
Going against every instinct he had, Hannibal loosened his grasp on Will’s hair. He dropped
his arms, taking care not to bestow any accidental brush as he moved away from him. He
stood several paces away, hands in his pockets. He felt a single droplet of sweat run down
behind his ear and into his collar.

“There is always a choice. You’re free to go, Will.”

Will’s breathing was harsh and rapid in the silence of the evening. It felt like watching a star
die, closing in on itself, seeming to collapse entirely. But what a glorious sight to see such a
bright light burn itself out so gleefully.

Will wailed, the stag felled at last, and tipped his head back to bare his neck. He stumbled
forward a few steps, reaching for Hannibal with his stained palms.

“Hann—ibal… please .”

He immediately lunged forward, catching the omega around the waist before he could
crumple to the ground.

“Sweet Will,” he cooed, pushing his hair back from where it stuck to his pallid forehead.

“Hannibal —,”

“Shhhhh,” he hushed, pulling him flush against his chest. They were a dark relief of Klimt’s
“The Kiss”, one hand keeping him anchored to his front and the other cupping his face.

“Will. My Will.”

The omega gasped, hands scrabbling into Hannibal’s hair and yanking him down into a kiss.
 ༺═──────────────═༻

PHASE 2:

MESA THERMOTITA // MID HEAT

“When this omega goes on trial—“ Price called, scraping viscera off the tarmac. “Can they
use the McLaughlin defense?”

Will pulled his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes for the third time in five minutes. “The
McLaughlin defense only protects omegas who have been coerced, kidnapped or otherwise
forced into mating. There currently is no… ‘not guilty by reason of heat’ defense.”

Zeller stepped right around Will, making him jump. “Well thank god for that.”

Hannibal approached Will where he stood leaning over one of three bodies strewn like trash
across the parking lot. The neon sign of the alpha brothel blinked garish and grotesque in the
early morning mist.

“They’re in full heat now,” Will murmured, loud enough for only Hannibal to hear. His
fingers had a slight tremor where they probed at the alphas neck where a head used to be.

“Does it make it more difficult?”

Will turned his head, eyes not quite meeting Hannibal’s.

“What?”

“The deviation in method. Does the breaking of the pattern make identification harder?”
Will released what sounded like a sigh of relief, turning back to the corpse. The curls were
damp at the nape of his neck, despite the biting chill of the Virginian winter.

“Not really. With this killer it’s less about the kill and more about the timeline. Following
them through the stages until they inevitably become too incoherent to hide. They’re on the
verge already. This is…sloppy. Uncoordinated and impulsive. The next one will be what
catches them.”

“Will the last body we find be that of their intended?”

“No,” Will firmly denied with a twitch of his head. “They might have considered it — got
close a few times. But they find them much too interesting to kill them.”

“So now it is simply a waiting game?”

Will slipped a piece of paper from the victim’s pocket, an address scratched haphazardly
across it in purple ink.

“Isn’t it always?”

Hannibal checked his watch: ten days and eight hours. He reached out to squeeze Will’s
shoulder. “Come, Will, we’re very close to my home. I’ll make breakfast.”

“They were all bitten.”

“Pardon?”

“The omega. They bit all of them — trying to force a bond.”

Hannibal clicked his tongue, intrigued.

“An omega biting an alpha is… unorthodox. Taboo, even.”

Hannibal pictured this killer omega — would they coerce him into bed? Or try to force a
bond with physical threat? The possibilities were entertaining.

Will turned to walk with Hannibal, pulling his glasses off his face and rubbing at his eyes.

“Their commitment to non conformity is what will get them caught.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Will keened into Hannibal’s mouth, pulling insistently at him as if he could draw him totally
inside of himself. Hannibal growled in response, possessive and possessed in turn. He
worked his mouth against the omega’s licking in behind his teeth to get to the source of that
mouth watering scent: to finally taste Will Graham.

Will was impatient and aggressive, nearly biting at Hannibal’s mouth in his fervor. The alpha
let him indulge for a moment before taking back his control, digging his thumbs into the
hollows under each of Will’s ears. He pressed down just hard enough to unhinge his jaw,
mouth made more pliant for the plundering.

Hannibal’s hands went to Will’s flanks, squeezing each iliac crest reverently before suddenly
scooping him up to deposit him on the sideboard. Will let out an undignified squeal, flushing
red to the tips of his ears. He immediately began pawing at Hannibal’s tie, fingers slipping off
the silk like a puppy’s over large paws.

“Whose blood is this, Will?”

He was clutching at the nape Hannibal’s neck, thighs drawing inward around his waist, hips
rolling in little abortive thrusts. He was mewling incoherently now, red hot cheeks scratching
across Hannibal’s throat like molten steel wool.

Hannibal tugged at his hair once again, forcing his neck up against his lips and pulling a keen
out of the omega.

“ William .”

“An…alpha,” Will gasped, voice pitched high with the anticipation of pleasure.

A consistent rumble set up shop in the back of Hannibal’s throat. “ Which alpha.”

“Dunno he… attacked me on campus. I was on my way over here, I knew something was —
wrong.”

He continued trying to climb Hannibal, nosing up along the column of his throat. He was
panting, only mustering up the energy for the sake of placating the alpha.

Hannibal squeezed his hips, encouragement on the razor’s edge of a command.

“He — jumped me in the parking lot. He tore at my clothes, bit my shoulder —“

Hannibal immediately grabbed at the scruff of his neck, brusquely pulling him backward till
he could meet his fiery gaze.

“Did he break the skin?”

“…what?” Will was losing the thread, gravitating toward his lips like a homing beacon.

“Did he break. The. Skin.”

Hannibal squeezed both shoulders, eliciting a groan from the smaller man.

“Nnno,” he groaned, pushing both into and away from his touch.

“All the blood is — is his.”

Hannibal growled this time, immediately yanking Will back into his chest where he scraped
his teeth lightly along his carotid artery.

“Good boy.”

“No,” Will suddenly whispered against Hannibal’s lips.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off in favor of sipping at the alpha’s lips once more.

Hannibal growled, a quiet rumble that made its way up from his stomach and into his chest
and throat, Will feeling it all the way up until it was transferred to him by the pressing of
Hannibal’s teeth to his jaw.

“It will be all-consuming. You’ve been keeping it pushed so far down where it has only
grown stronger.”

“Hann—“

Hannibal ran his tongue up the column of Will’s throat, pausing to bite down on an earlobe.
Will keened again, the loudest so far, his pelvis canting up toward Hannibal.

“Give into it, Will,” the alpha purred. “Give yourself over to me.”

He squeezed Will’s hips again, pulling him roughly to the edge of the sideboard until he
teetered precariously. But Hannibal was there, closing the space between their bodies. He
slotted his thigh in between Will’s, flexing the muscle there against Will’s aching cock.

“Unhh—“ Will groaned, eyes rolling back as he scrambled to hold onto Hannibal for balance.
He wrapped his arms around his neck, fingers digging into the muscle. Hannibal was
consumed by Will’s feverish heat, the tendrils of flame winding round their combined frame
until they made one looming pyre.

Hannibal’s left hand snuck around to Will’s lower back, encouraging him forward in a
deliciously slow rock.

“That’s it, Mažasis.”1

Will panted in his ear, soaked and fiery and wired for pleasure. His fingernails scratched at
Hannibal’s skin, claiming him in his own small way. He began to rock more frantically,
guided by Hannibal’s large palms.

“Sweet boy.”

The omega’s eyes rolled back as he spasmed, somehow growing even hotter. He clutched at
Hannibal’s shirt, whimpering out little “ah”s as he shuddered. The front of his khakis
bloomed with a new wetness, seeping through the fibers. Hannibal hummed, drawing a finger
up over the seam of his trousers and through the mess.
He tilted Will’s chin up, leaning in for another slow, searing kiss. He was thorough with the
boy, devouring him by degrees.

Hannibal pulled back but Will followed, forcing the alpha to speak into his mouth.

“You should be sated for the moment — just long enough to get you out of those clothes.”

“But Hanni-“

“I will not have you in my bed reeking of another alpha’s blood — no matter how ravishing
you look painted with it.”

The omega was too submerged to argue, dropping his head to nuzzle at Hannibal’s shoulder.

Hannibal slipped a hand over each of Will’s thighs, encouraging them up over his waist.

Will automatically crossed his ankles at Hannibal’s lower back, squeezing his arms tighter to
match. He hung on like a limpet, content to sniff behind the alpha’s ear.

Hannibal lifted him easily, gracefully mounting the stairs to his bedroom. Will's temperature
had dropped a few degrees, but he knew the omega was a fire only temporarily banked. In a
stereotypical omega, it would be climbing again in as little as ten minutes and it was clear
Will was no typical omega. He was as unpredictable biologically as he was in any other
aspect of his life, a puzzle box lined with nails and razor wire that kept Hannibal curious and
bleeding.

Before they had even reached the top of the stairs, Will had started kissing and kitten licking
his way around Hannibal’s throat, fingers dipping curiously beneath his collar. Hannibal
could maintain his composure only so long as he had a task, the need to claim kept to heel as
he had long trained it to. A cocktail of emotions swirled about in his chest, the steady burn of
lust cut through by a stab of tenderness as Will snuffled under his jaw.
He strode quickly to the master bathroom, pausing for only a moment to kick his shoes off at
the threshold. He walked into the spacious, slate tiled shower, depositing Will efficiently on
the bamboo bench inside. Will put up a valiant fight, but Hannibal was stronger and would
exercise his power in this.

He let Will draw him into a kiss, lulling him into a sloppy and sensuous rhythm. He used the
distraction to his advantage, unwinding Will’s arms from around his neck and kneeling down
on the harsh stone. He threaded their fingers together before pressing them firmly into the
bench at his sides.

“Keep these here,” he whispered against his lips, biting lightly at his jaw when he whined in
protest.

He relished in the undressing of his Will as much as the time constraints would allow, the tick
of the biological clock loud in his ears. He removed his glasses first, bringing those cerulean
pools into sudden bright focus. They were undoubtedly beyond saving and so Hannibal
tossed them into the trash. He quickly moved on to his shirt, equally irredeemable. The urge
to rip it from his skin was overwhelming, but he resisted. He slipped each button from its
hole with infinitely more care than they were originally fashioned with. Will was still pliable
for the moment, eyelids droopy and breaths deep and slow as if in sleep. Hannibal
memorized the image, intent on sketching it later.

Each patch of skin revealed to him seemed warmer than the last: the jut of an ankle turned
red hot poker, his femur a monolith of lava rock. He hoped his skin would blister, another
ailment to exchange like courting gifts.

When Hannibal pulls his trousers down over his hips, the sight of Will’s lightly furred thighs
sends a flare of lust so strong, Hannibal has to grip the muscle to regain control.

The slow coercion into rut has accelerated into full throated certainty. But there is a sweet
agony in the delay, in prolonging the feast after a fast. The pain elevates the pleasure to
dizzying heights and oh does he want to suffer at the hands of Will Graham.
He lets himself have this indulgence, drawing his nose up the inner edge of Will’s thigh,
tongue dragging in its wake to taste the saltwater of him. He tastes like whiskey aged in a
rowboat.

A groan from above brings him back to the present. It is the heat waking up, each of Will’s
nerves coming back online one at a time in search of a proper breeding. Will’s hands thread
into his hair, his hips bucking up in an attempt to reach Hannibal’s face.

“I know,mylimasis,”2he whispers, straightening up to return to the unfinished business of

Will’s shirt . He draws the ruined button down over his arms, leaving it to languish alongside
the rest of his clothing.

Hannibal reaches over to turn on the shower, careful not to turn his back to Will. The water
begins to pool on the obsidian tile, dampening the sodden clothing. Will’s eyes are trained on
the pinkish trail, squinting and mouth slightly open like a curious toddler. And then he looks
up at Hannibal, those big blue eyes eclipsed by his blown pupils. He has run out of time.

Will surges upward, seizing Hannibal by his shirt and waistcoat so he can push him back
against the shower wall and into the spray. He claims Hannibal in a bruising kiss, beginning
to tear at Hannibal’s clothing. He somehow manages to get the knot at his throat undone,
letting the silk drop unceremoniously atop the stained pile. He wastes no time diving in,
fingers digging in across Hannibal’s pecs and collarbones, departing only to yank the tails out
of his trousers. The fabric is glued to his skin, warring with Will’s fingers as he pulls
Hannibal this way and that. Hannibal quickly realizes he’s lost control of the situation, his
body more than happy to run away with Will’s fervor. He was achingly hard in his drenched
trousers and when Will arched up into him he could feel his matching need.

“I may have — miscalculated,” Hannibal murmured between dripping kisses, one hand
carding a hand through Will’s sopping locks, the other slipping down his back to pull his ass
forward and up. Will didn’t respond, only tugged ineffectually at the hair at Hannibal’s nape.
Will was still in his boxers, slicked to his skin like a Roman statue, the smooth slopes of his
marble skin brought to life by the crisp folds. It didn’t obscure much of anything, his cock
thick and dark beneath the light fabric, a tantalizing smear of color against his milky white
skin. Hannibal smoothed his hands down Will’s slippery flanks to grasp his cock, molding the
fabric to it. Will howled, his back arching off of the tile wall.
Will pitched forward, mewling against the skin of his neck, lips smearing in the suggestion of
a kiss along his cheekbone.

“I’m tempted to take you right here…,” he stroked languidly just once before pulling away.

“But I won’t.”

Will didn’t make a noise, but Hannibal felt him vibrate against his chest. His shoulders began
to heave, his breaths coming quicker at his ear, fractured on the inhale. He coaxed his head
back to find Will weeping, tears mingling with the rivulets of water.

“Please —,” he gasped, dropping his chin to his chest even as his hips bucked upwards again
into Hannibal’s hips.

“Don’t — don’t be cruel.” Will was near hyperventilating now, cheeks and forehead blazing a
furious pink as he worked himself into a fit.

A hot stab of shame pierced Hannibal’s heart — a feeling he was wholly unfamiliar with. The
desire to revel in the beautiful ache was receding, overtaken by the need to protect, to
comfort, to consume in an entirely different way. Oh, how his Will had changed him.

He cupped Will’s chin reverently in both hands, rubbing his thumbs over the omega’s blazing
cheeks. He brought his lips to Will’s, depositing a kiss with a gentility he was unaware he
possessed.

“Shhh, mylimasis,” he murmured, drawing Will into a series of small kisses. He closed his
teeth around his lower lip before sucking it sweetly, mouthing a trail of not quite kisses up
along his cheekbone and to his ear. He pulled Will’s head into his shoulder, rubbing his cheek
at his temple like a great wet cat.

“I will not deny you.”

With one arm he kept Will flush to his body while the other slipped under the waistband of
his boxers. He wrapped his hand around the omega’s cock, thumbing the head.

Many times in the past Hannibal had envisioned this very embrace. The intimacy of it made
him ache, a beautiful interlude to precede the violence he would then inflict. He imagined the
boy’s blood spilling over his fingers, feeling Will shake as the last vestiges of life left his
body. If Hannibal couldn’t have sexual intimacy with Will Graham, he’d take the other kind.
It was nearly the same to him, in the end.

But now, as he felt Will shaking in his arms, chasing a little death as opposed to being
pursued by the more permanent one, the idea of violence toward the omega made his stomach
churn. Hannibal had no aversion to killing omegas, but other omegas were not Will — they
were not his omega. They weren’t frighteningly unstable, aggressive empaths who spent their
days hunting him and their nights at his dinner table eating his prey. They weren’t the exact
negative of Hannibal Lecter, light in all the places he was dark, but with the same base image.
He hadn’t considered the prolonged ecstasy a bonding with Will Graham would offer, too
preoccupied with the single act of killing him. Hannibal wasn’t one to torture his victims but
the idea of inflicting this specific exquisite pain to his beloved was as satisfying as a seven
course meal composed of seven separate politicians.

Will was post verbal, whining longer and louder with each stroke Hannibal delivered. Just as
he was about to tip over into blissful abandon, Hannibal removed his hand and stepped away.
Will was cut off mid howl as he watched Hannibal yank his boxers down off of his legs,
encouraging him to step out of them.

He stood again, wrapping his wide palms around Will’s thighs.

“Up,” he urged, easily lifting Will to wrap his legs around him in a more intimate imitation of
their earlier position. His hand did not return to the omega’s weeping cock however —
instead, his left hand kept him anchored between himself and the shower wall while the other
slipped under his ass. His fingers ghosted over Will’s slippery hole, dripping with water and
his own copious slick.

“So wet for me, mažasis.”

Will purred, nodding against Hannibal’s throat as he tried to push into his fingers. Hannibal
mouthed at his shoulder, pushing him more firmly into the wall. As he sunk his fingers
inside, he bit down in a mimicry of a mating bite. Will keened, nails scratching across
Hannibal’s scapulae. Hannibal growled in return, the sounds resonating between their chests
in an ancient mating call. Hannibal pumped his fingers in and out slowly, littering the
omega’s neck and shoulders with small bites that would turn a dark plum by the morning.
The idea of Will so thoroughly marked by him drove him into the omega quicker, aiming
squarely for his prostate.

“Hann—ibal,” Will gasped, insensate with pleasure. He was rocking against Hannibal’s
fingers, desperately fighting to keep up a consistent rhythm.

Hannibal’s hand was steady and unrelenting, his body surging with the hormones of
oncoming rut. He felt like a god.

He mouthed his way up to Will’s ear and waited, letting his breath waft over his flesh.

“Will,” he muttered, licking a stripe up the blade of his ear and Will shook apart. He cried
out, forearms and biceps contracting and squeezing Hannibal almost painfully hard. His cock
pulsed between them, long ropes of white shooting up over Hannibal’s abdomen, mixing with
the water and running down his thighs. He felt Will’s body relaxing by degrees, each muscle
unclenching one by one until he was supported by Hannibal’s strength alone. He slipped his
hand out, provoking a quiet groan from the omega, head pillowed on his shoulder. He caught
his thighs where they had begun to slip down over his hips, strengthening his hold to deposit
him back on the bench. He knew he had a slightly longer window now if he could get Will
into bed so he took his time soaping up a washcloth and gently wiping him down. Will
occasionally tipped his chin up in silent request and Hannibal indulged him each time,
bestowing him with long sweet kisses that left the omega mewling contentedly. He worked
shampoo through his hair and massaged his scalp with his fingertips, thrilled at the mingling
of his chosen scents with Will’s own. He followed up by combing his expensive conditioner
through Will’s hair and before directing the spray over him. He praised him quietly for being
such a good boy and lifted him into his arms again to walk them to the bedroom. He
deposited him on the bed, turning to fetch a towel and methodically wipe him dry. He pulled
back the duvet, coaxing him under it before depositing one last kiss to his forehead. He
watched Will slip under before turning to head down to the kitchen.

༺═──────────────═༻
 PHASE 3:

ARGI THERMOTITA KAI ZEVGAROMA // LATE HEAT AND MATING

Hannibal found Will in the morgue underneath the empty FBI headquarters, standing over a
corpse laid out on the table. He approached Will from behind to find he was trembling
violently.

“Will?”

Hannibal stepped in front of him to find the man with his eyes closed, lost in his own second
sight. His eyes flickered behind his lids, sweat dripping from his curls into his eyelashes and
down into the scruff on his cheeks and above his lip. When Hannibal laid a hand on his
shoulder he did not stir, only made a few indecipherable noises. Through his clothes Hannibal
could feel how feverish he was, his heavy jacket warm to the touch. He cupped his cheek
with one hand and laid the other directly over his scent gland at the nape of his neck.

“Will.”

The omega jolted awake, panting and frantically glancing around the room.

“Where did you go?”

Will didn’t answer, looking progressively more distressed as he took in his surroundings.

“You missed our appointment. When you didn't answer your phone, I called Jack. He said the
team had left the scene hours ago — but you stayed behind. You said you needed a moment.”

“What time is it?”

Hannibal checked his watch.

“Just after eight.”

“Jesus —,” he pulled his glasses off, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “It couldn’t have been
after six when they left.”

A rumble rose in Hannibal’s throat, a more primal response than he’d usually allow. Will
startled at it, despite it being near inaudible.

“Are you angry with me?”

The question was searingly earnest, an instinctual thought straight from the Id of an omega in
heat. Hannibal could have gone to his knees right then.

“No, Will, I’m not angry with you. I am, however, less than pleased that Jack would leave
you here unattended.”

“He’s not my keeper.”

The phrase sat squarely between petulance — that tried and true Will Graham stubbornness
— and the much sadder subtext of nobody wants to be my keeper.

Hannibal looked down at the victim, neck and shoulders littered with deep bite wounds.

“Is this —,”

“The omega, yes,” Will whispered. “I think. Maybe. Fuck I don’t know — I feel ill.”
Hannibal checked his watch: twenty days and three hours.

“You’re likely starving. Come to my home, I’ll make you dinner.”

“No—“ Will snapped, clearly surprised at himself afterward. “Sorry no I — I need to go

home. My dogs —“

Hannibal could have forced him then. Could have strongly suggested that Will return home
with him, let him feed him. Hannibal could do a lot of things. And yet.

“Let me drive you home, then.”

Will blinked several times in succession, tics fighting to the forefront.

“Alright.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Will was sleeping when he returned to the bedroom, but it was fitful. He was twisted up in
the covers, a fine sheen of sweat gathering on his temples and in the notch of his collarbone.
He knew Will never slept quite soundly, but this didn’t seem like the night terrors he was
accustomed to. He was whining faintly, undulating slightly into and away from the mattress
in a stunted rhythm. He was pawing at the vacant pillow and as he drew closer Hannibal
could see he was nibbling on the corner.

He deposited the tray on the bedside table, kneeling on the floor beside Will.

He gently pushed the damp curls away from his face, rubbing just behind his ear.
“Will,” he murmured, letting his nose brush the omega’s. When Will only whimpered, he
drew him into a sweet princely kiss, meant to draw him up out of stasis.

“Hmmmnibal?” Will mumbled, eyes fluttering open with great effort.

He was Botticelli’s muse, flushed a pale pink with long dark eyelashes dancing over arctic
blue eyes. In lieu of a response, Hannibal drew him into another kiss. He tightened his hand
on the back of his neck, pulling him into his opening mouth, tongue reaching in to welcome
him to the waking world. Will inhaled deeply and came to all at once. He gasped into the
kiss, arms immediately going up to wrap around his neck. Before he could try to pull himself
up any further, Hannibal kneeled on the bed and took him by the hips. He promptly rolled
them so Will was straddling him. When his half-hard cock brushed Hannibal’s straining one,
he growled, digging his knees into the bed. Hannibal was pushing his control to the very limit
— he was dizzy and his head was pounding, all the blood not in his cock rushing between his
ears. The unfulfilled desire ached like a long hunger, his stomach clenching painfully against
the waves of near incomprehensible lust.

He reached blindly to the bedside table, retrieving a chunk of red, glistening meat. He held it
to Will’s lips, smearing the juices around his over-red mouth.

“Eat.”

Will’s eyes flared, his misty gaze locking with Hannibal’s. For a moment he seemed
completely lucid and for the span of a heartbeat, Hannibal considered the possibility that Will
had been putting on a show — that it was all some incredibly elaborate plan to kill him. But it
passed almost as quickly as it had come as Will let his lips part, tongue protruding to receive
the meat. He chewed languidly, his eyes drooping again with pleasure.

A piece of cheese was next, its musk an edible counterpart to their heady combined scent.
Will accepted it, but he was starting to rock against Hannibal again, chewing in fits and starts.
The next piece of kidney Hannibal fed him sat unchewed in his mouth for almost a full
minute as he squirmed atop him.

“William.”
Hannibal cupped his jaw, gentle but with a potential for violence.

He squeezed his jaw, dragging his other hand to Will’s ass. He squeezed his jaw once, Will
biting down dutifully, while at the same time pulling him forward in a slow drag. Will’s eyes
lit up, the reward triggering something deep down in his omegan DNA. He began to chew
quickly and aggressively, animalistic in his fervor. Hannibal squeezed his jaw again and
ceased his rocking, jerking his chin up.

“Manners, Will. It’s the only thing that separates us from the beasts.”

Will gave a growl in protest, nibbling at Hannibal’s fingers. The flash of Will’s teeth sent a
fresh wave of searing heat through him, and he pushed his thumb against an incisor.

He began the slow rock again, reaching for another chunk of meat. Will dropped his mouth
open, the picture of debauchery, but Hannibal slipped it into his own mouth instead. Will
whined, his stomach having finally joined the festivities. Hannibal chuckled, grabbing
another piece of meat to pass between Will’s lips. They established a rhythm this way,
Hannibal occasionally slipping a hand over Will’s stomach as if he could feel the food
digesting. The idea of feeding Will meat he had hunted and prepared — in the midst of heat,
the most intimate incarnation of an already sacred ritual — was addicting. It drove him to
urge Will faster, encouraging more of his weight as he sustained his grinding. The space
between their faces had gradually closed, the two breathing into the small, sacred space
between their lips. When they reached the final hunk of kidney, Hannibal placed it in his own
mouth, cupping the back of Will’s neck and pulling him forward. Their lips met, Hannibal’s
coercing Will’s open before passing the morsel to him. Will keened, his lips still gliding
along the alpha’s as he chewed.

“You are the most exquisite creature.”

“Hannibal —“ Will gasped, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

The final thread of Hannibal’s control snapped. He grabbed Will forcefully around the hips,
flipping them smoothly so Will was flat on his back in the silk sheets. He was panting, eyes
gone glassy at Hannibal’s show of strength. Hannibal forced his arms up over his head, lacing
his fingers where he held them down into the pillows. He growled lowly in Will’s ear, raking
his teeth along the column of his throat.

“Ahh!” Will writhed beneath him, arching his head as far back into the pillow as he could.
Hannibal bit his way down the fragile skin of his throat, wrapping his lips around the jut of
his Adam's apple. He hooked his knees under Will’s thighs, urging them up and apart. He
ground down against him, Will’s collected slick easing the way. Hannibal was beyond
teasing, revived by the food and entirely unmoored.

He backed up just enough to readjust and slide into Will in one fluid motion. The two
groaned in tandem, Hannibal tightening his fingers around Will’s. He rolled his hips in one
smooth thrust, letting the almost unbearable, wet heat sear him through. Will was huffing
with each percussive thrust, flushed crimson from the tips of his ears all the way across his
chest to the points of his knees. Hannibal’s mind glitched, the image of Will juxtaposed atop
a raw steak, sizzling in its pan. The smell came fresh in his nose and intertwined with Will’s
becoming indistinguishable.

He thought he had known hunger, starving in the near uninhabitable winters of Lithuania, the
unending ache in his stomach his only companion after Misha….

But this was a yearning, a desperation he had never known. Whether they bonded through a
bite or not, the two of them were heretofore enmeshed and inseparable. People can be bound
by starvation or by consumption. Those who experience both know the full spectrum of
agonies and ecstasies the world can offer.

Hannibal leaned down to claim Will’s mouth again, a lot of tongue and too much teeth, half
kiss half bite. Will didn’t seem to mind, keening into his mouth as he endured the onslaught.
He tasted like plasma and leukocytes and that primordial sweetness that reminded Hannibal
of fresh honeycomb, running over his fingers in Sicily over a decade ago.

In a sudden burst of energy, Will rolled them so he was astride Hannibal again. He dragged
his nails hard over Hannibal’s pecs, drawing tiny beads of blood in their wake. He was a man
possessed, his muscles clenching and unclenching in furious waves. Will’s slick went tacky
where it smeared between them. He imagined he could hear it sizzle, like scorched butter in
want of a protein.
This was his Will, completely stripped of all his carefully built walls and without the usual
whiff of fear. The heat had evidently overridden his ability to mask, every tic and
vulnerability on full display. The words went first, his communication reduced to pleasure-
fueled auditory stimming and Hannibal’s name only. He squeezed his eyes shut periodically,
his head jerking to one side as he did. He was gloriously strange and breathtakingly feral.

“Hann—ibal,” he whined, the broken sound loud and sharp in his ears like a tuning fork.

Hannibal wrapped a hand around the omega’s throat, squeezing just enough to send Will’s
eyelids fluttering.

Brangusis,”3Hannibal whispered, punctuating it with another short squeeze.

As Will’s breath hitched, his rhythm stuttered and Hannibal took the chance to push up and
forward to pin Will on his back once again.

He kept the one hand on his throat and let the other curl around the omega’s cock, pulsing
and crimson. He stroked in time with his thrusts, the mess of their fluids making the skin
slippery and sensitive. Hannibal could no longer form coherent thoughts, simply echoing
Will’s cries with growls of his own, focused only on wringing every last ounce of pleasure
out of the omega.

“Ha—nnibal,” Will struggled out, clasping his hands around the one on his throat. He wasn’t
prying it away, but holding it there, letting his fingers fill in the gaps between Hannibal’s.

“Hann —,” he keened again, eyes blinking open for the first time in many minutes. “
Please.”

Hannibal growled, thrusting harder and stroking faster, bending in half like an animal to let
his lips brush Will’s.

“Come, meilė. Come for me, Will.”4

Will’s eyes rolled back, his fingers going slack. His mouth dropped open but no sound
emerged as he began to buck violently, his cock spilling in long milky lines over his own
chest. The sight of it pooling in his navel, like crème anglaise running over freshly baked
brioche, tipped Hannibal into freefall. He was coming, violent and copious inside of Will,
gouts of it warm and wet, spilling out of the omega’s salmon pink hole. The image they made
sent him into a second crisis, Hannibal thrusting deeper and harder for a few suspended
seconds, triggering a second smaller wave in Will. He shuddered, letting out a half-sob as his
cock valiantly gave a few more weak spurts.

Will’s eyes were fluttering closed again, tears spilling out over his glowing cheeks. Hannibal
tilted them backward to coax Will down along his front, wrapping his arms around his upper
back and tucking his head under his chin. His fingers drew lazy patterns along the omega’s
skin as he dropped feather light kisses to his temple.

“ Mylimasis ,” Hannibal whispered."Kas tave palies, pajus mano dantis.”5

༺═──────────────═༻

Hannibal ran fingertips over Will’s jaw, lightly bumping his nose against the omega’s.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

“We really must discuss your use of suppressants.”

The omega groaned, feebily baring his teeth.

“Hannibal —“
“Skipping every heat is exceedingly dangerous. It can result in —“

“Night terrors, sleepwalking, loss of time. Even potentially extreme violence.”

Hannibal tilted his chin up to look into his eyes, making Will squirm. He drew him into a
kiss, letting their lips drag together in a dry brush.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

Another kiss, resting his lips against Will’s.

“How long have you known?”

Will didn’t miss a beat, kissing him in a languid, unrushed slide.

“That first day in Jack’s office.”

Hannibal hummed, hand drifting down to clutch at Will’s ass.

“Have you gone to Jack?

“Will you kill me if I have?” The air was electric for a moment before Will suddenly
chuckled, rolling back on top of Hannibal.
“No, I haven’t. I won’t.” He reached behind him, slipping Hannibal’s slowly filling clock
back inside.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Will began a slow rock, a more measured rendition of his last ride. He leaned
down to whisper into Hannibal’s ear.

“I wanted you to come to me of your own volition.”

And then in one swift surge, Will bit down hard into Hannibal’s neck.
End Notes

Translations:

1. Mažasis: Lithuanian, "little one" [ ▲ ]

2. Mylimasis: Lithuanian, "beloved" [ ▲ ]
3. Brangusis: Lithuanian, "darling" or "treasure" [ ▲ ]
4. Meilė: Lithuanian, "love" [ ▲ ]
5. Kas tave palies, pajus mano dantis: Lithuanian, "whoever touches you will feel my
teeth" [ ▲ ]

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