Hannibal is cutting open the belly of a particularly rude mailman late one evening in the man’s home and the television plays the commercial for 1-900-OMEGA
The screen flashes through men & women in all lascivious poses and manners that do nothing for him but the end tag does.
“Don’t you want to hear their greatest desires?”
He finishes the kill and waits till he’s inside his home to call. The operator takes his credit information and asks several questions.
Then he meets Hugh.
“Hello, Mister….Smith?”
Hannibal walks tosses down the mailman’s credit card and smiles. “Yes, Doctor Ralph Smith.”
“Do I call you Ralph?”
“Call me Doctor.”
Hugh laughs. “I can work with that. Do you know how sexy you sound, Doctor? I’m wet just listening to your voice. You make me so hot, I’m leaking so much. Can you smell how much?”
Hannibal closes the door of Ralph Smith’s house.
“No, but I like to hear you pretend to be aroused. Is your name really, Hugh?”
“No,” Hugh says, “And I’m sure your name isn’t Doctor anything.”
He smiles as he gets back into his car. “Oh I most certainly am a doctor, Hugh. I promise you that.”
Hugh laughs. “What kind of Doctor?”
“The very invasive kind.”
He listens to Hugh talk all sorts of dirty on speakerphone the ride home, his knot aching by the time he pulls into the garage. The omega sounds breathless as he speaks and Hannibal wonders if he’s tired.
“My knot is quite aching for you,” he confesses, shutting off the engine.
Hugh sighs. “Good. I’m ready to–”
“Do not insult us both that you’re anywhere near as aching,” Hannibal mutters, “Are you? Do you imagine real knots entering you when you paint these erotic fantasies or are you just very good at telling alphas what they want to hear?”
Hugh laughs. “You’re unlike any alpha I’ve ever spoken to at this job.”
“Good. Now answer the question.”
The omega sighs. “I’ve always been good at imagining what people want most.”
Hannibal palms his knot through his trousers. “But not me. You’ve aroused me physically but not enough this time for completion.”
Hugh’s pause makes him smile. “Does that mean you’ll call again?”
“Love is real-absolutely real-and, like water, it’s the most gentle and most powerful force in the Universe. It’s free and formless until it pours into its recipient, until we let it in.”
Will saw the drink arrive in front of the man and eyed the stool next to him. The man was at least ten maybe fifteen years older than him, but not so terribly old. He had the physique of a dancer – if his back was anything to go by when he removed his suit jacket. Will was already imagining what the man might look like naked when he finally caught his scent.
He had shaken out his jacket and hung it over the back of the stool – the action bringing his pheromones and sweat of the day, on a delicate breeze to Will’s nose.
Omega.
Will felt his dick twitch all the way down to his resting knot. He wasn’t particularly fussy about the intimate parts of those he enjoyed being intimate with, but he couldn’t deny that his alpha body always reacted on instinct to an omega. And this night was no acception.
He probably prefer to stick to omegas a lot of the time, but being a 23 year old twink of a kid, it was sort of assumed by most he met, that he played omega in the bedroom. And whilst he did on occasion, and enjoyed it… he didn’t like the feeling that he had to deny himself as an alpha just because he didn’t fit the mould of what most omegas were looking for. They didn’t want an alpha who seemed as delicate and submissive as the stereotypical omega – and whilst that served him fine in his line of work…
Will got up from the small table where he was sat and moved quickly to the stool next to the stranger, laying a hand on the back of the omega’s stool as he eased himself in. That earned him a look. It was one of curiosity edged with something near murderous annoyance.
The omega glanced at him and then away, though it seemed more true lack of interest than playing hard to get. Maybe, with his broad shoulders and chiseled facial structure, this one was too often mistaken for alpha as Will was for omega?
“Buy me a drink.” Will said. Not a request and not his usual tactic. But this wasn’t a usual omega to all appearances. Well dressed, clearly refined in the way he presented himself. He looked like one of the city bigwigs – a career omega. Will’s dick twitched again and he nearly cursed under his breath at his ridiculous body’s reaction.
The omega turned an amused look on him and Will was hit with the full beauty of the man’s face. Thank fuck the stools had backs or he’d have gone over.
“And why should I do that?” The words were almost sneered. Yeah this was clearly a guy who had no time for alpha bullshit. But Will wasn’t going to give up that easy so he was going to lay it out simply.
Will let his lips twitch up into a smile. “Because it would be a nice way to get to know each other. And then… we could continue to get to know each other.”
“Are you propositioning me.” The omega near chuckled and looked him up and down – his face a mask to Will, usually so good at reading people.
“Depends. If by propositioning you mean that I’d like to spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a mattress and having you scream on my knot… then yeah. I guess I am.”
The omega’s expression didn’t alter. His face still completely impassive. There was a beat of silence, and then he turned back to face the bar. Another beat before he signalled the server.
“And whatever my friend is having.” The omega said, not looking back at him.
It’s the little peals of laughter
that first draw his attention. He hears them intermittently: halting at first,
almost apologetic, then progressively louder, more carefree. They cut through
the hum of polite conversation that typifies this sort of gathering and heads
start to turn as the laughter grows decidedly raucous.
He looks around, curious,
diverted enough to want to pinpoint the source of the high-pitched giggling.
Because it seems that somewhere in this glittering space filled with
appreciative murmurs and admiring, flirtatious glances is someone who isn’t
spending all their time trying desperately to catch his eye, impress and
ingratiate.
The tell-tale clink of glasses
knocking into each other directs his stare to the serving table at the back of
the room where a boy, average height and slender build, is frantically righting
several glasses while simultaneously making a very poor job of mopping up a
large pool of scarlet liquid. It dribbles over the edge of the ruined damask
tablecloth and drips down onto the hardwood floor. The boy grabs a handful of
paper napkins, drops them onto the carpet and proceeds to push them around
ineffectually with the toe of his shoe. Dark hair slicked back with gel
threatens, with every bob of his head, to spring free into an unruly mop of
curls. He runs an unsteady hand through it, swipes one of the remaining full
glasses of wine and chugs back almost half before swinging to face the crowd
again.
Awareness ripples through the man
who watches, narrow-eyed and thoughtful. There you are. Those piercing
blue eyes, which the previous day had stared into his with an intriguing
mixture of accusation and regret, are slightly unfocused as they seem to search
for something. Someone? It’s with a strange sense of inevitability that he
waits for those eyes to connect with his. And when they do, and that plush
mouth falls open in helpless recognition, that’s the moment. Right then is the moment
Hannibal Lecter decides he’s going to kiss Will Graham.
This March marks the second anniversary of me writing in the Hannibal fandom. This past year has been a weird one for me, one of ups and downs, but I made it through.
Like last year, I will celebrate by re-posting my works over the course of the month.
Thank you very much to everyone who’s left kudos and comments, to those I’ve used as a sounding board, and my betas, for all the support!
A continuation of my Hannigram fic “Slice of Life,” although it’s not 100% necessary to read that one first. Thank you, @shukkhy, for the commission!
(Edit: Tumblr is doing something weird if I add a cut to “Keep Reading” and it screws up the formatting. Since this is too long to post without one, I’ve added a link to the complete chapter on Ao3)
They rent a cabin in Argentina, on the edge of a rocky valley flanked by hardy, scrubby little trees. There’s a river that Will is looking forward to exploring when he gets a chance, and no sign of neighbors for miles. It’s entirely off the grid, using propane for cooking and hot water, and solar panels for everything else that might require power. Hannibal found it on a website that caters to tourists. He’s pretty sure nobody would expect them to do that, thus making it a safe option while they figure out where they’re going to put down roots next.
The first thing they do is check around the perimeter to make sure they know all their escape routes and have an eye on where somebody might take cover.
“Think it’ll do?” Hannibal asks. “It’s smaller than the Havana house.”
“It’s fine,” Will says. “We survived on a tiny boat together, remember?”
Suddenly, a lonesome wail echoes across the valley from some distance away. Will perks up at the familiar sound.
“Did you hear a dog?” he asks.
“Probably a shepherd dog with its flock,” Hannibal says, reaching over to rub his back. “It sounds miles off.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Will says. He shakes off his innate need to spring into action the moment he hears a dog.
There’s a lot to like about the cabin, but Will thinks his favorite thing about the new place might be the bathtub that’s plenty big enough for both of them. Not long after they get inside, he draws a bath and adds drops of lavender oil helpfully left in a small basket by the property owner.
He takes off all his clothes and goes to find Hannibal in the kitchen checking out the food situation. The auburn from their hasty disguises has mostly washed out of his hair and it looks mostly reddish blond now.
Mostly reblogs and random words 