Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1051884.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hannibal_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Will_Graham/Hannibal_Lecter
  Character:
      Will_Graham, Hannibal_Lecter
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_-_Freeform, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Dubious_Consent, Mating
      Cycles/In_Heat, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Unrepentantly_Morally_Dubious,
      Hannibal_is_a_Sick_Fuck, imagined_cannibalism, Hannibal_POV, Classism,
      Taking_Advantage_of_a_Minor, Food_Snob_Hannibal, Everything_Snob
      Hannibal, It's_okay_to_blame_Teresa_for_everything, Vulnerable_Omega
      Will, Lolita!Will, HumbertHumbert!Hannibal, Will_is_Hannibal's_Nymphet
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-20 Completed: 2013-11-22 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 8452
****** Sweet As Peaches On the Tongue ******
by Dangereuse
Summary
     Remix of mjnobody's A/B/O Hannibal AU, where Hannibal finds omega
     Will much younger than anyone suspected.
Notes
     This fic is morally wrong. It is. I know that. I understand that my
     readers will have enough moral development to know that too. I wrote
     it for those who find such moral wrongness sexually titillating in
     regards to fiction. This fic contains an alpha/omega pairing, and all
     the inherent power dynamics within, as well as a colossal age
     difference, and taking advantage of a minor. I completely understand
     if you choose to skip this fic. That is fine. There will be no hard
     feelings. I am not going to pretend that what Hannibal does in this
     fic is right in any sense of the word. I will only try to stay true
     to the fact that Hannibal is a psychopath. The way he feels is not
     the way the majority of society feels, and I think, that if placed in
     an Alpha/Omega society, Hannibal would behave even more deplorably
     than he does now. That said, I hope those of you that remain enjoy
     this. May you find it thought and orgasm provoking!
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      I_could_just_eat_you_up_(but_not_literally) by orphan_account
***** Chapter 1 *****
Hannibal doesn’t usually frequent this area. The houses are all squat, aged
things when they manage not to be trailers. It reminds him altogether too much
and not at all of the cold backwaters of Lithuania. Something to do with the
eyes, he supposes. A certain hardened desperation.
 
But this is not usual. He’s been invited to a prestigious Psychology Conference
in New Orleans. Except the presitigious conference is not actually in New
Orleans, but rather at a luxurious resort outside the city. And while the rooms
are stellar and the accommodations excellent, the food offered is decidedly
not.
 
It’s true, that sometimes Hannibal must go off of his preferred… diet, but that
never means the quality of his comestibles must drop so far. He refuses to
consume the edibles- ha!-provided at the hotel. 
 
This means he must drive long distances to more acclaimed restaurants, to
prevent his own imminent starvation.
 
This means that he must stop at this rundown fuel station in the Louisiana
bayou.
 
This means that, although the fuel station proclaims itself to be ‘full-
service’, Hannibal has to walk himself up to the attendant’s window, and knock
sharply against the glass to get his attention.
 
He has to knock twice before the man drops his magazine and turns his attention
to Hannibal. Then he requires Hannibal to wait while he finishes his phone
call. 
 
The attendant is not apologetic at all. 
 
That’s it. Hannibal has a policy about hunting in strange places, where he is
made more vulnerable merely by the simple fact that he doesn’t know the area or
the people. Moreover, he cannot take enough meat from each kill. There is no
place to store it and he has only mediocre implements to prepare it. It is
altogether a waste.
 
But this, Hannnibal thinks, will be worth it. For the simple pleasure of
transporting this lowly, rude, blue collar worker into art.He will cut off the
man’s fat hands, sever his jabbering tongue. He’ll slice open his soft belly,
so careful not to perforate the intestines and ruin the meat, peel the skin and
fat and entrails away, layer by layer, to pull out the man’s liver. He’ll place
his hands inside the man’s body cavities, feel the systemic thrum of his
heartbeat fade away with his hands. He’ll jab the man’s fat worthless hands
into the cavity his liver should hold, until they sprout from his stomach like
a grotesque flowering plant. And then he’ll wrap his dead fingers to gently
clasp his garrulous tongue, a sweet tender tidbit offered to the investigators
who will find him.
 
For that second, it’s too hard to keep his polite expression on his face, too
difficult to pretend to be anything but that harsh lined creature Bedelia sees
peeking out of the mask he wears as a second skin. It’s too hard, to be
anything but the Alpha predator he is. The beta knows it. For one long moment
Hannibal watches his terror unfold across his face.
 
Then he hears it. A soft, unsure ‘Oh’, no louder than an exhaled breath.
Hannibal catches the scent in his nostrils the barest of seconds before he
whips his head around.
 
It’s an omega boy, not more than sixteen or seventeen. So small his arms and
legs are not fully grown; his hands and feet just a bit too large at the end of
his skinny limbs. The little omega boy’s toes are bare, poking out, winking at
Hannibal. Hannibal wonders what it would be like to bite them, to place the
bare wriggling his toes in his mouth and mark them with his teeth.
 
A little Lolita child. Hannibal parts his lips, sucks a mouthful of the boy’s
scent into his mouth, runs it delicately over his tongue. It’s exquisite, the
scent of young omega ripening, priming up for its first heat. Hannibal fixes
the boy with his full attention, watches with satisfaction as the boy’s body
freezes, entire body caught up in an omegan startle reflex. He’s frozen,
muscles locked up and unable to move. The perfect little prey.
 
The omega boy is wearing an oversized sweater, the neck stretched and
worthless. It is a horrid grey, it’s only redeeming quality that it sags over
the boy’s collarbone, revealing a stretch of pure, unblemished skin over
skinny, underdeveloped bones. The boy is unmated. This boy, this tiny little
strip of an omega cannot have even entered his first heat.
 
Then the omega boy bravely meets his eyes. For one long moment he looks at
Hannibal, unthinkingly meeting an alpha gaze. Hannibal knows the boy sees what
Hannibal is in that instant, knows he is looking at the biggest predator he’ll
see in his entire life. Hannibal sees fear blossom in the omega’s eyes. The
omega hurriedly jerks his eyes down, but it’s too late for Hannibal not to see
the intelligence shining in them. The boy is right to be afraid.
 
Hannibal forces himself to exhale. The boy probably doesn’t know what he’s
doing, standing there, his old, oversized sweater falling off of one shoulder
and his bare toes curling in the ground. Exuding vulnerability. Tempting any
alpha to take his first heat.
 
His first heat. He can have this beautiful omega child’s first heat.  Hannibal
looks at the omega boy’s face, angelic and sweet, hiding under a curly mop of
soft downy hair. He can takethis omega child, can bite his mark in a beautiful
ring of red and purple around his neck, can mate him rough and hold him
tenderly after, can claim him as Hannibal’s own. The thought brings Hannibal up
short.
 
Just long enough for the omega boy to regain control of his limbs and bolt.
Hannibal watches the boy tear off behind the fuel station, leaving only his
sweat feverish scent behind. Hannibal rolls it over his tongue one more time,
savoring the scent as he would a fine peach before he sunk his teeth into it.
He can have that omega boy.
 
And he will.
 
****
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
It’s easy enough work to find out where the omega boy lives.
 
The boy is nearly heating, his little body shedding a scent trail is so thick
and obvious as to be blood.  
 
The boy’s home is a mess of aluminum siding, and Hannibal can scent two rancid
betas underneath the beautiful scent of the boy. The betas make this easy. It
will be so simple to go in there and take the boy for his own. As much as betas
claim full autonomy, there’s a part of them that can’t help but yield to their
alpha superiors.
 
Hannibal parks the rental car in what remains of their gravel sideyard, and
approaches the doorway. His alpha ears pick up the scrabbling of betas behind
the door, the hurried call of a beta woman to whatever passes for her mate.
“Douglas, there’s someone coming!”
 
In the kitchen window, there’s a small flurry of yellow curtains. Hannibal
spots the boy instantly, his alpha instincts fixating on those clever eyes
hiding underneath his unruly hair.
 
Hannibal meets the boy’s gaze as raises his hand up to the door to knock. The
omega boy’s eyes go wide with fear, before he ducks back into the house, as if
he can hide himself away from Hannibal simply by breaking his gaze.
 
As if Hannibal had not hunted him to this very door.   
 
Hannibal raps once at the door. At once he hears terrified whispers of the beta
woman on the other side, before the door swings open.
 
The beta woman is small, hair a thin mousy brown. She’s wearing a faintly
patterned dress and a small washed out smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Those are the boy’s, cool blue-grey and too intelligent. It’s almost a shame.
The best a beta can be in this world is a homely little fool.
 
“Good Afternoon, Madame,” Hannibal leans into the doorframe, making sure that
the woman before him experiences the full length and breadth of his height. “I
am Dr. Hannibal Lecter. It’s a pleasure.”
 
***
 
It’s easy enough to gain entrance to the boy’s household.
 
It’s amusing to watch the whole household scatter around him: the beta woman
skitters to the kitchen for refreshment, her beta excuse for a mate hustling in
from the rooms towards the back of the house, and above all, the boy, still and
motionless on the stairs to the upper floors with the family’s mangy, long-
haired dogs brushing against his sides.
 
The boy watches him through the bars of the staircase, his fingers buried in a
mutt’s fur. He watches with wary eyes over fattened cheeks, still plump with
the remainder of his childish fat, surveying him as an antelope does the big
cat.  He’ll be so delicious when Hannibal sinks his teeth into him.
 
The beta male has the boy’s hair, soft down curls that fall into his face. He’s
also got glasses, obscuring his perfectly mundane brown beta eyes. Hannibal
doesn’t get the same impression of intelligence in this beta’s eyes. Good.
Betas often cling to the gender distinctions of male and female as if they do
not know the natural order of things.
 
The beta is cleaning his hands with some sort of dirt stained rag before he
offers his hand to Hannibal. There are remnants of black grease on the man’s
hands. Hannibal forces a polite smile onto his face, extends his own palm to
shake. He eases into the man’s space, allows his very alphaness to curl into
the air between them. “I am Hannibal Lecter. I’d like to speak with you for a
moment.”
 
The beta man clears his throat: “Douglas Graham.” The man fumbles for a few
moments, before he reclaims himself and gestures for Hannibal to take a seat. 
 
 
Hannibal settles himself on a faded blue sofa just in time for the beta woman
to bring in a tray of sweet tea. It’s in a plastic pitcher, glasses mismatched.
She hands one of the classless polka-dotted things to Hannibal first.
 
Hannibal takes a sip and discretely sets the glass on the coffee table beside
him. “Thank you Mrs. Graham.”
 
She flushes with the attention and runs to fetch him some tinned cookies from
the kitchen.
 
Douglas clears his throat, “Uh, What brings you to our neck of the woods, Mr.
Lecter?”
 
Hannibal represses a flinch. “It’s Doctor, if you would.” Hannibal stretched
indolently, letting himself sprawl further over the Graham’s ridiculous excuse
for a sofa. He is an alpha, and it does not hurt to remind these…classless
betas of the fact.
 
“Um, yes, Doctor Lecter. I apologize.” Graham stumbles over the silence between
them for a long moment.
 
Hannibal lets it go on longer than it should, watching every thought flit
across the poor  man’s face,  a pitiful creature’s pride warring with the ill-
fitting coat of propriety and fear in the face of a better.
 
“I’m here about your omega son.”
 
“William? I apologize if he’s caused any trouble, he’s the absentminded s--”
Graham trails off, losing steam as it finally hits him.
 
“William Graham.” Hannibal runs the name over his tongue, looks from the father
to the boy still hiding on the steps. How very different they are. How could
something so beautiful come from something so—that?
 
“He’s pure,” Will’s father blurts.
 
Hannibal forces himself to react only with the lift of his eyebrows. Graham
shifts in his squeaky armchair, unsure. “William, come here.”
 
Hannibal can see the omega boy startle on the steps from the corner of his eye.
He can see the indecision on his face, his normal omegan instinct to flee
warring with his instinctual behavior to obey.
 
Obedience wins. The omega boy rises off the stairs, carefully picking himself
out from the bodies of the mutts, each tentative step down bringing him closer
to Hannibal.
 
He enters the room slowly, clearly burdened by being the focus of the room. He
moves to perch himself on the edge of the couch furthest from them, until
Graham clicks his tongue. Will startles, before he moves to arrange himself at
Graham’s feet.
 
It’s a terrible presentation. Will is huddled into himself, the angle wrong for
displaying the curve of his neck, the slenderness of his limbs.  Clearly it’s a
pose inexpertly copied off of TV or some trite classless film, an affectation
forced on him by the betas who know no better. 
 
Even so, Hannibal has to admit it’s no less pleasing.  His posture and form can
and will be corrected, but his potential is stunning. Hannibal pulls his gaze
away with effort.
 
Graham's eyes are darkening, his gaze running over Hannibal's body, mentally
calculating the expense layered in every inch of Hannibal's clothes. The
sensation is not altogether unlike the man is running his dirty, oil-encrusted
fingers over Hannibal, to see how much he can be squeezed. How quaint, that the
beta thinks he holds some power over this interaction.
 
“Our William is quite remarkable,” the beta says, as if tasting the air with
his words.
 
“Quite. Has he many suitors?”
 
Graham fumbles over the question. “Um, no—“
 
“Then it would not be unwelcome for me to declare my suite.”
 
“No! No! I mean yes— “
 
Hannibal tries not to curl his lip in disgust. It’s obvious that the man does
not know the usual proceedings, and is completely bemused. “I would like to
court your boy, William.” Hannibal runs the name of his future mate over his
tongue, nearly tasting the syllables.  “I assure you I can care for him well. I
am an esteemed psychiatrist and medical professional.” Hannibal draws out his
wallet and plucks from it one of his business cards.
 
He hands it to Graham. The man grasped the creamy cardstock with grimy hands,
his fingerprint wiping off on the textured paper. He looksat it, nonplussed, as
if unsure what to do with it. “Uh, yes, that’s—”
 
“Do you find my credentials satisfactory for your son, or do you wish for me to
arrange for a phone call from my office?”
 
Graham stutters. For the first time, the omega moves at his feet, reaching out
one hand to his father’s pant leg and stroking his fingers down it. Graham
startles, and then obviously relaxes. The omega is appeasing him, settling his
nerves and allowing him to collect himself. How marvelous.
 
Graham lays his hand in Will’s hair, soothing it back off his forehead. “Yes,
that is… satisfactory.”
 
"There is one more thing," Hannibal flicks his wrist indolently and waits for
all attention to settle once more on himself. 
 
"The matter of the omega's purity must be affirmed."
 
Hannibal can see as Will curls deeper in on himself from his kneeling position,
trying to hide himself under that fall of downy hair and cringing from his
father’s touch.
 
Graham immediately starts his salesman schtick. "Of course! Will is completely
pure. He's not even been touched, hasn't even been through a wet heat, and we
lock him up tight even through--"
 
"I would check, with your permission, of course."
 
"Yes! Yes, Will, get up," The beta grabs Will by the scruff of the neck, pulls
him upwards and starts to jerk off the boy's shirt. 
 
Hannibal catches him by the wrist, forces a smile. "I'm sure the boy can
manage." His skin itches to see those beta hands imparting their sickly scent
all over the boy. 
 
He nods to the boy to begin to disrobe. 
 
With trembling arms, the omega reaches up to undo his buttons and slip his arms
out of the sleeves. It is the most exquisite torture, to watch as the boy
reveals more and more of his omega skin, slowly and artlessly, as if the whole
room is not waiting on the presentation of his skin. 
 
The omega scent intensifies in the air, those lovely pheromones almost tickling
at his nose. It grows even worse as the boy's pants bunch before sliding down
his slim hips. 
 
"If I might?" Hannibal asks, and it's nothing but the thinnest of courtesies,
barely waiting for Graham's nod before reaching out one hand to brush against
the omega's skin. 
 
Hannibal lifts his hand to Will's chin, ostensibly checking for bites and
scratches, any proof of a rival alpha's claim, but Hannibal only has eyes for
the long line of the omega's neck, the protrusion of his collarbones underneath
that thin omega skin. Hannibal lets his hand drop along the omega's body, his
touch brushing the omega's small pink nipple with the barest of touches. The
boy gasps, his small pink mouth popping open in an 'o'.
 
His long fingers come to rest on the elastic band of the boy's briefs, the tips
of his fingers barely exerting the tiniest pressure on the fabric. "And these,
Will."
 
The omega shivers and a rash of goosebumps runs over his shoulders. Hannibal
meets his gaze, and Will freezes, his whole body caught up in the omegan prey
instinct. It’s not unlike the response of a doe freezing in front of a superior
foe. 
 
"Go on, Will, Strip for the man." The omega's father says. 
 
Hannibal can see little burgeoning pearls of Will’s sweat beading on the
omega’s shoulders, in the hollows of his neck. The omegan scent intensifies in
the room. With his thoroughbred alpha nose, Hannibal can scent the progression
of his hormone release. Earlier, he smelt of young omega, still dry and
unheated, but now, now his scent has deepened and become both sweeter and
muskier. Soon Will’s body will be entirely receptive, tumbling headfirst into
his first adult heat. All because of Hannibal.
 
Will’s eyes flutter shut, dark little lashes falling soft against his blushing
cheeks. He takes a small fortifying breath and drags the briefs down his hips. 
 
Hannibal can't help the small breath that escapes him; he feels as if he’s been
struck by the sight and scent of him. The omega is so beautiful, his long
skinny limbs covered in creamy, unbitten skin. His small vestigial cock hangs
flaccid between his legs. Hannibal allows himself to run his hand in the air
over Will's thin thigh, over the red skinned flesh of his knee.
 
Hannibal clenches and releases the muscles of his hand. The scratch makes his
skin prickle. This small omega boy should never have come to harm. The only
marks he should bear is of an alpha—of Hannibal’s—prowess.
 
Hannibal tears himself away from the front and circles behind Will to better
view the long stretch of his back over the tight little mounds of his ass. As
if magnetized, Hannibal's gaze immediately falls to shadow between the omega's
cheeks. 
 
Will flinches when Hannibal lays one of his hands on his back. Hannibal's hand
stretches over the expanse of Will's lower back, his thumb resting right before
the shallow divot that begins the definition between Will's cheeks, and his
fingers splayed over the bump-bump-bump of Will’s spine.
 
Will’s body freezes once more when Hannibal exerts a gentle pressure on his
flesh.
 
Hannibal makes a soothing sound and strokes with his thumb over the sensitive
skin. Hannibal leans in to the curve of Will's ear, until his breath ghosts
over Will's pinnae. "Bend over for me," he nearly breathes. He slowly
intensifies the inescapable pressure on Will’s back. 
 
Will looks to his father in his uncertainty, the swallow of his throat audible
to Hannibal’s ears. Hannibal nearly growls, represses the urge to slap the
omega's rear in punishment. He should attend to Hannibal's commands and obey
Hannibal first. 
 
Hannibal takes another deep breath. That will be easy enough to correct, when
Will is safely in his hands. For the instant, Hannibal presses harder. 
 
Obediently, Will bends at the waist, his knees trembling now. It’s no work at
all for Hannibal to insinuate his shoe between the omega's bare feet, forcing
him to spread his legs.
 
Will makes a small broken noise in the back of his throat and Hannibal feels
his cock go instantly hard in his pants. 
 
There it is. Will's virgin entrance, that little pink hole. Hannibal lets loose
a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Will is untouched, his hole the
perfect light rose color that can only indicate an omega’s purity. 
 
The scent of him is too thick in the air. Hannibal forces his hand off of the
omega even as his instincts implore him to grip tighter. "Proof has been
satisfied." The ritual words feel clumsy on his tongue, tripped up by Will’s
scent in the air.
 
Hannibal takes a few steps backwards to re-situate himself on the couch. His
eyes track every jerky, prey movement of Will’s. Soon he’ll have to find a way
to hide his attraction. 
 
"That leaves only the price." Graham says, his beta scent poisoning the air.
 
Will reaches for his clothes; only for his father to step on them, pinning them
to the floor. 
 
"Yes." Hannibal draws himself back. He's let Will's father see too much of him.
He has to gather himself.  "The omega-price." He pauses to collect himself and
to allow Graham to squirm. "Has Will been to finishing school?" Of course Will
hasn’t. But it serves well enough to regain the upper hand. 
 
"No, but Will here is top of his class. He's real clever." As if a classical
education means anything for an omega. Hannibal’s mouth twists in derision.
Will’s cleverness is obvious to look at him, his eyes tracking the room, noting
every nuance and emotional shift in the room. The way he bows his head at
Hannibal's feet to acknowledge the better predator is proof enough. Will’s
intelligence is only a marker of how well he can be trained to please.  
 
Hannibal lets out a disapproving hum. 
 
Graham licks his lips nervously, the sense of power that Hannibal's obvious
desire had mistakenly given him fading away. "I want thirty for him."
 
Hannibal considers. Thirty thousand? What a paltry sum for such exemplary
stock.
 
Hannibal purposefully does not look at Will, no matter how he trembles on the
floor. Will’s father underestimates him, skipping so early to a final sum, with
no attempt to haggle for a bonus per child Will will successfully bear him and
no pressure to assign a personal allotment for Will. Perfect.
 
Hannibal breathes in, running the omega scent over his tongue one more time.
Sweeter than the finest wine. "I will give you thirty-five under the condition
that the courtship will be concluded today and his guardianship will be
conferred to me—effective immediately."
 
The beta's eyes lighten with self-satisfaction, as if he has fooled Hannibal.
"What do you think, Willy? Do you like Dr. Lecter here?"
 
How trite, to ask for the omega's permission. As if his father hasn't already
decided. Hannibal forces himself to look amicable, approachable, even as he
cringes at the deplorable nickname. Willy. How juvenile.
 
Will looks from Hannibal to his father, before his eyes flicker over to the
closed kitchen door that his mother is no doubt crouched behind. 
 
He nods. 
 
"Very well." Hannibal rises from the chair to impose his height over the entire
room. "I will return in three hours. I expect Will to be freshly showered and
groomed and wearing his best."
 
***
***** Chapter 3 *****
Three hours later, Hannibal promptly shows up at the Graham abode. He wrinkles
his nose, and grabs the knocker with his handkerchief. He's made reservations
at a hotel close to here, one that holds suites for bonding couples, and can
ensure complete and total privacy while Will's heat runs its course.  
 
It takes the Grahams longer this time to open the door. Hannibal shifts his
feet. This is unacceptably rude. Punctuality is imperative. Hannibal raises his
kerchief to knock once more, but pauses. Being around such a blissfully
compatible omega has heightened his senses in preparation for mating.  
 
"You stupid boy! Your alpha is outside now and you are filthy! What were you
thinking? Douglas, why did you grab him so hard? His hair is all mussed." 
 
Hannibal has heard enough. He knocks once more. 
 
The door opens. Hannibal's eyes fall immediately to Will. Will stands there
under the attentions of his mother. While Hannibal watches, she quickly clips a
thread from the shoulder of Will's oversized button-up. It's obvious the shirt
isn't Will’s, almost as obvious as the fact that someone recently grabbed
hisWill by the back of his neck. His hair is visibly mussed. 
 
Hannibal can't help but come closer, suppressing the growl in the back of his
throat. This is his omega, solely his to discipline. Hannibal reaches out a
hand himself to smooth down the wild mess of Will's hair. Then he turns his
hand to rub his wrist against the back of Will's neck, scentmarking him with
the touch.
 
Hannibal takes in the sight of Will, wide-eyed, the scent of his fear and
uncertainty rising up even over the smell of his ripening heat. Hannibal shifts
his grip to the back of Will's neck, and squeezes, gentling him. 
 
"Are you ready?" Hannibal asks. Will gives him a small nod, all the while
looking at his feet. He reaches down to a small suitcase at his feet. 
 
"What is this?" Hannibal sneers down at a small disheveled valise. 
 
"My things." Will says to him. "I've only got the one suitcase, and it's very
small." Will looks at him and knows immediately he's erred. He begins to
babble, an omegan panic reflex. "I can fit my things in a plastic sack if you
want, it'll be smaller and--" 
 
"Leave it." Hannibal orders. 
 
"What?" Will stammers. 
 
"Leave it." Hannibal says coolly, his agitation rising. He reaches out for
Will's hand around the valise, carefully pries his omega fingers away from it.
"I will provide."
 
For the first time, Will makes eye contact with him, his wide omega eyes
blinking up at him. Hannibal can see wetness pooling in the corners of his
eyes, slowly dampening his lashes until they stick together beautifully. 
 
Hannibal is as aroused at the sight of Will's tears as he was at the sight of
the omega's tiny pink puckered hole. He watches, transfixed, as Will drags his
eyes down from his own, watches as beautiful teardrops teeter and fall from the
corners of his eyes. "But my books--"
 
Hannibal exerts a harder pressure on the back of Will's neck, and pull's Will
closer to his side, angling Will's neck until he has no choice but to suck in
the hot rich alpha pheromones strongest at the lee of his neck. 
 
Hannibal watches Will's mouth pop open, his eyes dilate even as they well full
of tears. His heat is so close. "You will come to me with empty hands, as is
tradition." It would be a blemish on his honor to allow the omega to bring such
filthy low class goods into his house. Hannibal will provide. As a thoroughbred
alpha he can do nothing less. 
 
Will nods and swallows heavily, the short hairs of his neck brushing against
Hannibal's hand. He is lovely like this, lips parted and wet, displaying his
neck and throat to Hannibal in glorious submission. 
 
"Dr. Lecter." Will's mother has the audacity to interrupt him. "The small
matter of payment."  
 
Hannibal squeezes the back of Will's neck tight for a long moment, before he
nods and drops his hand. "Of course." It's simple work to hand the check to the
woman. The check’s made out for 35,000 dollars, likely more than she's ever
seen in her life, but it’s barely a drop in his own account. Hannibal would
have paid double it, even triple, for the pleasure of mounting this sweet boy. 
 
It's his right and privilege to take this boy to mate, to prove that he could
provide for him in all ways by meeting his omega-price. To do less would be to
dishonor Will, to cast doubt that he was a capable alpha. It would depreciate
Will, make this beautiful wet-eyed thing damaged goods. 
 
The beta woman stares at the check in her hands for long moments, her eyes
glistening, before she carefully folds it in half and tucks it down her blouse.
Hannibal fights not to cringe, instead moving his hand to rest once more on the
back of Will's neck. He squeezes, gently.
 
It is time to go, time to take William Graham away from this place. To take him
and mate him and make him Hannibal's own.  
 
Hannibal leads him out the door and into his new life. 
 
****
 
It’s easy work to bundle Will into the car, but it's temptation itself to leave
Will's pink lips alone, to wait and wait and wait all through the long drives
of the trashy bayous of Louisiana with the sweet, sweet scent of the omega in
the car. 
 
Hannibal burns. His body is heated and flushed, as if his entire skeletal
system is burning white hot and slow underneath his skin.  
 
"Um, sir?" Will asks, tentatively. His tears from earlier have stopped, leaving
his cheeks sticky with their trails and a beautiful bright, rosy red. 
 
Hannibal hums low in his throat and fights the instinct to turn it into a
growl. Hannibal tries not to notice the way that his own scent is affecting
Will. It hurts to watch Will squirm in his seat, to rub his ass all over the
rental car as he fights his oncoming heat. He's priming up for Hannibal, his
whole body coming online in a glorious rush of omega pheromones. 
 
"Do you live close?" Will asks, his voice soft and thready. 
 
"Mercifully no." 
 
There's a small pause, where Will picks at the cuff of his oversized button-up.
"Do you," Will pauses as he turns the small button on the cuff back and forth,
back and forth. "Do you think I'll be able to go to school where you live? I've
only got a month or so until I graduate. I have good grades. It should be easy
to transfer."
 
"Whatever for?"
 
Will frowns. "You know, get my diploma." Will squirms down once in his seat.
Hannibal's fingers twitch.
 
"That is hardly necessary." Hannibal waves his hand, before bringing it down to
Will's leg. He needs to be secured, to be prevented from wiggling, and to
prevent the waste of his slick being spread on the inside of his pants. "You
are mine now. I will care for you." 
 
Hannibal looks over then, and it's easy to see that Will is telegraphing all
the signs of an omega in heat distress, his eyes blowing wide and filling of
tears. It’s just the irrationality of his burgeoning heat then, fogging his
mind and forcing him to cling so desperately to those sad, dimensionless
placeholders he’s clung to in lieu of a proper alpha.
 
The rich scent of Will’s despair thickens over his heat smell, enhancing and
enriching his scent to make it darker, headier.   
 
That is more than enough temptation. Hannibal jerks the steering wheel, guiding
the rental car off the highway and onto the side of the road.
 
Hannibal leans over, reaching out one hand to grasp Will by the neck and tilt
Will’s lips up as an offering to himself. He falls on Will like he’s starved,
years and years and years of finding petty release in unsatisfactory betas,
when all this time his mate, his perfect omegan complement, was huddling
unnoticed in this filth. Will’s lips are pliant and warm, and his mouth knows
better than his mind, opening readily under the press of Hannibal’s lips.
 
It’s easy to feast on the tender flesh of his omega’s mouth, until the console
between them grows to a thick, uncomfortable weight against his waist and
Will’s lips swell perfectly plump underneath his teeth. Only then can he pull
himself away.
 
Will breathes heavily when his lips are freed, eyes gone soft and open. He’s
not fidgeting, not anymore, his whole body turning soft and receptive to
Hannibal’s. Hannibal releases his neck. His hands feel empty then, and he has
to clench and release his fingers to dismiss the still-warm heat of Will in his
hand.
 
Will slouches in his seat when released. He’s directionless and adrift, near
still but for the tiny flexes of his hips and the ripple of muscle across his
stomach. Hannibal can’t help but to smile. Will is perfect, unbelievably
susceptible to the unique cocktail of hormones in his saliva. Perfectly attuned
to his own body. Hannibal allows himself to trace his hand once more over the
blooming swollen flush of Will’s lips before forcing both hands to the Will and
directing the car back on the road.
 
He’s won this boy, bought and earned him. He’s won the right to mate him, and
when he forces his way into Will’s body for the first time it won’t be in a
rental car on the side of the road. He’ll take Will as he was meant to be
taken,
 
***
 
Hannibal doesn’t allow himself to relax until he closes the door to their
rented bonding suite behind him. He can’t help but track every moment of his
omega, from his small flinch as the door locks, to his shy skitter away from
him. It’s final. They won’t leave the bonding suite until Hannibal has
successfully bonded Will to him.
 
“So, um…” Will says, and then stops, his social anxiety preventing him from
speaking. He’s scrambled a few steps away from Hannibal now, just out of arm’s
reach. How quaint, to think he can run away, can evade, when he is so utterly
hemmed in on all sides.
 
The effect of the hormones in his saliva has faded, and Will is coming back to
himself now. He’s holding himself tighter, his small shoulders nearly tucked to
his ears. His scent is growing sharper once more. Hannibal can’t have that. He
closes the space between him and his new omega, boxing Will in with his bigger
length and breadth.
 
Will jerks his head up enough that his eyes make it all the way to Hannibal’s
chin, before he drops his gaze submissively. His breath shudders out.
 
“Are you nervous?” Hannibal asks.
 
Will shakes his head, so terribly obvious in his lie. Hannibal almost can’t
help but laugh. His boy will learn not to keep things from him. Instead, he
reaches up hands to grip Will’s cheap white button up. He’ll be so much more
beautiful without clothes.
 
Hannibal disrobes Will with steady fingers, touching Will with sure, firm
hands. He has to gentle him. The poor omega is nearly trembling, long thin legs
shaking underneath him, and his fear scent is climbing to uncomfortable levels.
 
Hannibal doesn’t think he’ll allow Will to wear anything for the next few days,
not if he clings to his clothes like this. “Let’s get you comfortable, then.”
He strips off the shirt in efficient movements, neatly plucking the offending
buttons out of their corresponding holes. Each new peek of Will’s flesh feels
like a present to himself; each new bared inch of skin intensifying the omega
scent in the room. It’s curling in his nostrils now, the undeniable scent of an
omega in first heat creating a sympathetic response in Hannibal; his body is
pumping out untold amounts of adrenaline in response to this glorious
stimulus. 
 
Hannibal casts the offending shirt to the floor and starts on his trousers.
Even though he saw Will naked like this just hours ago, it’s as striking to see
him now as it was the first time. Will is slender and milky white underneath
his clothes, all long limbs that he hasn’t quite grown into yet. He’s hairless
in his youth, and Hannibal runs his thumbs over Will’s dusky rose nipples,
watching as they pebble at his lightest touch. Will shivers, but his hands
still go to Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal can feel the slight dimpled pressure
of the omega’s fingernails in his flesh.
 
Hannibal backs Will up into the bed, ghosting his hands all along the lean
sides of Will’s flanks. Will’s knees hit the bed with a soft thump. His weight
goes out from under him and he lands back onto the soft mattress. For a moment,
panic flares bright in his eyes, before Hannibal follows him over, pressing him
securely into the mattress.
 
Will goes as stiff as an offended cat, his arms scrunched up between them,
unsure and wide-eyed, before his heat takes over. He looks adorable, so
beautiful, eyes soft; his swollen lips wet and from the smallest flick of his
little pink tongue.
 
Hannibal dips his head to retake Will’s mouth. Will’s lips are a revelation,
red and swollen-hot against his own. They’re not at Hannibal’s home, but
they’re locked in this suite with soundproof walls and heat locks and something
inside Hannibal untwists. Will is his, his omega, unclaimed beneath him. How
has he waited so long?
 
Hannibal knows the exact second when his own pheromones trip Will from semi-
rational arousal into full blown heat. The scent thickens and explodes in his
nostrils, even as Will’s lips go softer and more pliant against his own.
 
“I need, I need,” Will says, his fingers scrabbling over Hannibal’s shoulders,
eyes wide and blown. He’s too innocent to articulate that he needs to be
filled, too inexperienced to do anything but writhe in the sheets, rocking his
pelvis against the steady weight of Hannibal above him.
 
“Shh, shh,” Hannibal soothes, as he hurriedly shucks his own suit off. He lets
the fine material fall and crinkle on the floor. He needs this, needs the
sinful touch of Will’s skin against his own.
 
Will stops struggling, clutching at Hannibal’s bare shoulders with wide eyes
and a panting mouth. His eyes are blown, all words stolen from his throat and
replaced with thick gasping sounds. He tries to wrap his long coltish legs
around Hannibal’s waist, to bring them together and rub his own small cock
against Hannibal’s.
 
No. He can’t mate Will like this, not and knot him properly. It’s easy enough
to grasp Will by his small shoulders and move him, and Will is more than
willing and pliant under his hands. Hannibal flips him over, arranges him
perfectly on his hands and knees.
 
Will stops struggling for contact then, his brain short-circuited by instinct.
Instantly he drops to his elbows, arching his back and presenting to Hannibal.
Every single omega knows what to do under an alpha like this, knows to stretch
and curve their spine for the best possible display, showing themselves off for
their alpha.  Even one as young as Will.
 
He’s perfect.
 
Hannibal drops over him, running the lean lines of him under his hands, the
too-skinny bump-bump-bump of his ribs and the wide child-bearing jut of his
hips. It’s unbearable now, to see the clean, milky-white expanse of his neck.
He’s been unmarked for too long.
 
Once Hannibal starts biting, it’s impossible to stop. Will's skin is so soft,
the muscles dimpling under his teeth, his skin so tender. It’s impossible not
to bite, not to feel that bloodhot rush of living flesh in his mouth and weigh
the choice of ripping all the way into it with his teeth in his mouth.

Will's flesh is darkening and bruising a glorious red purple in the shapes of
Hannibal's teeth, but still he wasn't moving, incapable of fighting that
instinct inside him that called for complete and utter passive submission.

Hannibal slinks down Will's body until he’s positioned over the hottest part of
him, until his sight is filled with nothing but the pale pink glisten of Will's
virgin hole. He strokes the curve of his omega’s bottom, before biting once
more and sinking his teeth hard into the meat of it. His teethmarks will form a
perfect ring, a undeniable mark of ownership on Will's ass.

Hannibal inhales, once, twice with his nose pressed up against the skin, before
sinking his face into the lee of Will's crack and diving in with lips and
tongue. Will smells so good, tastes so good, Hannibal’s entire being caught up
in devouring the hormone laden heat scent of his mate.

Will freezes up against the press of tongue, before going lax and sweet against
the pressure of his lips. It must feel so good to his omega boy, so good to
receive this stimulation in a place he was forbidden to touch.  Everyone knows
that an omega's body is close to sexually dormant before their first wet heat,
and even then an omega always knows better than to touch themselves there, to
preserve the pretty pink of their virginity. Will pants against his spot of the
sheets, his breath rapid and aroused and the scent of his arousal so thick and
drugging in the room.

Hannibal keeps at his task, until Will's slick production is even greater than
Hannibal can lap up with each flick of his tongue, streaking down the sides of
his face a wetting the insides of Will's thighs. He’s so perfectly wet, nearly
drenched in his readiness for his first mating, and Hannibal can only thrill at
the excellence of his choice of mate. It’s an unfortunate reality that an omega
sometimes won’t produce slick the first heat and will require synthetic
lubricants to receive their first mating properly. Hannibal will not have to
tolerate the alien scent of the lubricant, not with Will responding to his
thoroughbred alpha pheromones like this.
 
But even as Will courses slick down his thighs, Will's hole does not gape,
refusing to loosen from its tight furl.

Hannibal slips his finger into Will's heat. The omega jolts, overwhelmed at the
touch, before pitching forward and collapsing; his entire weight falls from his
elbows to rest on his shoulders and face. Hannibal tsks as Will’s presentation
fails, curling his finger. One day soon he will teach his boy to stay upright,
head and ass curved up and back bowed in the perfect lodorsis position. Right
now, Will is exposed enough for his alpha nature, entrance presented to
Hannibal’s view. In fact, Will’s inexperience is reassuring, settling his
archaic instincts with the knowledge that no other alpha has touched Will or
trained him, that he’s coming to Hannibal’s bed and to his house pure and ready
to be marked.

Will is tight, clenching down tightly on Hannibal's finger and jerking
pitifully in pleasure each time Hannibal rubs up against his insides. It's only
one finger, but Will should be looser than this judging by the corresponding
deluge of slick. It’s new to Will, so very knew that he doesn't know how to
open up to accept Hannibal's touch.

It's no matter. If Will cannot offer looseness than Hannibal will take his
tightness. Hannibal moves himself up Will's body once more, until his chest is
pushed flush against Will's skinny back and his cock is nestled in between
Will's cheeks. Hannibal ruts there for a moment, taunting himself and rubbing
Will's slick along his length. But it's just a tease compared with the pleasure
that awaits him and Hannibal can't wait much longer.

Hannibal grips himself to align with the omega's hole, leaning back off Will
for the first time so he can watch himself sink in to Will’s small body, can
see his own cock disappear into that wet heat. The push in is tight, so tight
around his cock, Will’s body nearly fighting him for the privilege.
 
Hannibal can feel the exact second Will’s body yields utterly, his body
readjusting itself not to keep him out, but to hold him tucked in.

Hannibal shudders over Will at the sensation, almost losing all strength in his
arms and collapsing over his mate, it feels so divine. Will's muscles are
trying and failing to clench down on him properly, instead fluttering over the
entire length of him as if to milk his release, and his knot, out. Hannibal
drops his hands down over Will's as they lay passive in the sheets,
interlocking their fingers and making sure he stays perfectly in place.

When he hears the sob it's from far away, filtering to him from what seems like
a long tunnel of pleasure. Even so, it hits him as if he's been electrocuted.
He sees his own hand, involuntarily reach before him and clasp the soft curls
on the back of Will's head. He lifts and twists, forcing the omega to stop
burrowing into the sheets and bare his face.

Will's face is wet, beautiful glistening tears shining against his flushed
cheeks.

It's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

Hannibal brings his head down to lap at the sheen of tears on Will's face,
tasting their rich salt on his tongue. His perfect boy. Hannibal leans until
his own cheek is flush with Will’s, his tears pressed against his own skin. His
hands once again move to Will’s, pinning him perfectly underneath him.
 
From this position it’s obvious how well they fit, his body tucked up against
every inch of Will’s and his mouth flush against Will’s ear. “You are so good
for me,” he drops into Will’s ear, brushing his lips against the thin skin of
Will’s ear, and teasing the sensitive curve of it with his teeth. Will shudders
and his breaths speed up.  
 
It’s too much temptation now not to thrust, to draw himself out of Will’s body
and plunge back in, each time as vicious as the first. It’s intoxicating when
Will starts to pant, his body struggling against Hannibal’s own. His body is
reacting, preparing to climax for the first time with an alpha inside him.

Hannibal has read papers about this, has even been co-author on one of his own.
It's necessary to take an omega hard at the first mating, to prove ownership
and authority over a mate. An omega responds best this way; the highest
possible chance of bonding occurring only when properly dominated. And it
dovetails so neatly with his own desires. Hannibal pushes Will more securely to
the mattress, fucking deeply into Will’s proffered ass.
 
Will responds perfectly. Hannibal can feel his body drawing tighter and
tighter, his pleasure no doubt building in his core. His tears are slowing now,
and the noises dropping from his perfect lips going higher and breathier. It’s
time.
 
Hannibal sinks his teeth again into the juncture of Will’s neck and shoulder.
It’s instantaneous, how he reacts, his whole body squeezing down on Hannibal’s
cock as he comes with a high wail. It’s the first time Will’s ever orgasmed,
Hannibal’s sure; his first pleasure tasted while sheathed around his alpha and
in the throes of his first heat.
 
Will’s body clenches and relaxes reflexively through the orgasm, milking out
Hannibal’s own pleasure. This is the true beauty of an omega, Hannibal knows.
No beta can clench so beautifully around an alpha’s cock, can draw an alpha
inviolably into release with the contractions of their own pleasure. 
 
Will’s still panting, unsated, as Hannibal’s knot begins to swell. He’ll need
the knot to clench around to sate the fever of his heat. Hannibal allows some
of his weight to rest on the boy as he works through his own pleasure. He can
feel his cock swelling, burgeoning at Will’s hole. Soon the light pink of his
entrance will become darker, the mark of his first mating, of his bonding to
Hannibal. It’s acutely satisfying to know that the omega will forever be marked
his mounting, nearly as gratifying as the orgasm still coursing through him.
 
But Will’s still struggling, his young body resisting taking an alpha knot for
the first time. Tears once again streak his cheeks, his whole face turning a
bright feverish red. Will wriggles his hips, tugging on the knot as if he can
squirm away.
 
That’s more than enough. Hannibal snarls viciously, watching as Will freezes
utterly underneath him, the small downy hairs on the back of his neck rising at
the inherent command in his alpha’s snarl. “I can’t,” Will slurs, still deep in
his heat fever. “I can’t take it.”
 
Hannibal has had enough of this. He bites down, deep, on the nape of Will’s
neck. He’s only read of this phenomena, of that one spot on an omegan neck
that, when bitten, will cause an omega to go as docile as a small feline
gripped by the scruff.
 
Will reacts even better than a textbook could ever possibly suggest, coming
hard; his entire body clamps down on Hannibal’s knot with enough pressure to
bring a wet sob from Will’s lips. Will’s eyes squeeze shut with the sensation,
even more of those beautiful fat tears to leaking out of the corners.  But even
as his body nearly seizes inside, he doesn’t move, utterly still, body limp and
still under Hannibal’s own, no part of him moving but the rhythmic clench and
release of his ass. Hannibal settles over him, making sure that every inch of
Will is tucked under his weight.
 
Hannibal is rooted deep, tucked up as far inside Will as he can possibly be
with his hips cushioned against the plushness of Will’s backside. He can still
feel the aftershocks of his orgasm, can hypothesize how much come he’ll flood
his boy with. It’s satisfying in utterly primal way to know that he’s mated
Will so thoroughly, that even now, even as Will sighs and goes boneless and
near drugged from pleasure, Hannibal’s progeny might now be taking root in his
belly. He presses tender kisses to the back of Will’s neck, tucking his nose
deep into Will’s hair. Yes, there it is, Will’s scent sweetening, the unique
scent of him mellowing as he bonds to Hannibal.
 
Will settles even further under his weight. His limbs feel nearly liquid, he’s
so pliant, utterly perfect to rest on. Hannibal’s heard of this, this omegan
instinct to be covered at all angles and from all sides, had seen objects like
the omegan poster bed, the omegan nesting kits, that were supposed to provide
security, but it’s the first time he’s ever offered that security himself. It’s
thrilling in a way he never would have imagined, to be the center of an omega’s
world.
 
Hannibal carefully rearranges Will’s limbs, folding him until he’s safely
folded on his side in Hannibal’s arms. Will’s drowsy now, his eyelashes
fluttering, almost as if he’s forgotten Hannibal’s still knotted inside him.
Hannibal gathers Will even farther into his chest, intertwining their legs and
tucking Will’s head firmly under his chin. It’s then when one of Will’s sleepy
sighs fades into a small, rumbling purr.
 
Hannibal buries his face into his mate’s neck, chasing the sound. It’s
soothing, after the harsh high caused by Will’s heating pheromones, and
Hannibal finds himself winding down. His omega is safe and sure and hisin his
arms. 
End Notes
     Story is completed. I will finish posting it over the next couple of
     days. I hope you enjoy!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!