hanni-bunny-lecter:

My contribution for @willgrahamcalendar2k17: Valentine’s Day werewolf for February!

You can purchase the calendar here ❤

There was a monster among them.

Thirteen people had died on his block alone, mostly men but some women and children had been among the mess. Each body was left on the back porch of their own home torn to shreds and missing their hearts.

The police thought the monster was eating them and Hannibal was quick to agree if not for one thing.

The night after every murder the hearts had appeared on his back porch.

Hannibal was flattered to say the least, and he’d begun to anticipate the hearts each evening. He’d made a number of meals with them, all with hope his admirer would appear though almost a fortnight had passed with nothing.

Night thirteen had been Mrs. Serra, a horrid woman with an even more horrid dog that he was more than happy to see taken away forever. This death was closer than the others as the late Mrs. Serra was his neighbor. He spent all afternoon agitated throughout his appointments and rushed towards the back door only to be disappointed.

Nothing.

He looked at the time and thought perhaps he’d scared the giver off so he started dinner with hopes to get the last ingredient before it finished.

Every fifteen minutes he checked and there was nothing. He grew angry and threw out dinner not making another. It was only a short few hours later that he thought something that gave him pause.

Perhaps the giver had been apprehended.

He turned on the television and saw nothing, his relief palpable though it only started more fears. They may have been hurt. Accidents happened all the time.

Hannibal grew so focused on why they didn’t come that by the time he headed for bed, his sadness had grown exponentially. He spent hours tossing and turning, only to be woken up by a strange growl.

The dark of his bedroom was such he could not make out the growler, but he heard their shuffled steps around his bed and smelled blood in the air.

“I worried you’d forgotten me.”

Another growl.

He moved to turn on the light and his hand was snatched, the lamp falling over. He could hear the intruder panting for breath and grabbed for their other hand.

Except it was not a hand.

He could feel the fur and the scent of blood rose as he brought the paw closer.

A true monster.

The monster jumped and pushed him, in turn he let go and the growl that followed vibrated through them both.

“I will not hurt you.”

A huffed breath.

“I know.”

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He was overjoyed to hear the voice and when the monster leaned in to smell him, Hannibal moaned.

“Your gifts,” he breathed, “Thank you for them.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hannibal turned to give his neck and was rewarded with a lick to his skin.

“Shall I ask why you were courting me?”

“I saw you kill them. You’d make a good mate.”

Hannibal preened at the praise.

“Would you let me see you?”

“No,” the monster sighed, “Not like this.”

Hannibal felt his pajama shirt get torn open followed by his pants. He was already quite aroused and wanted anything this creature could give him.

He writhed under the creature’s attentions, the slow tease of claws and fangs as a quick tongue flickered across every inch of him. The monster had him on the verge of desperation when Hannibal’s length was engulfed in tight heat the likes of which he’d never known.

“Ohhh,” he clutched at its shoulders and leaned up for every bite the creature wanted to give him.

Hannibal pulled his lover to him, forced closeness and saw in the thin light his lover’s clear blue eyes just before they kissed.

He could feel a shudder go through him as his admirer spilled between them.

Hannibal shouted his release not long after and though his bones ached he clutched his mystery lover closer in his exhaustion.

“Please,” he sighed, fighting to catch his breath, “I need to see you.”

His admirer nuzzled against Hannibal’s neck.

“Not yet.”

Hannibal moaned as they parted and leaned in to every lick as he was cleaned.

The last thing he recalled was his lover’s scent, like earth and blood, when the teased bites made sense.

He had been preparing Hannibal for the real one.

It was painful, deep, and Hannibal held on to his bleeding neck when his mate pulled away.

“Let go.”

He remembered nothing after that.

Hannibal woke to the sun and touched the mark he hoped was there. It was, healing over already, and when he sat up the blood loss was obvious.

“Not yet.”

He turned and gasped at the sight, his beloved cross legged in a chair by the bed holding the final heart.

His admirer was no longer furry faced but he knew it was the same man. His eyes, cerelean blue and piercing were the same as he remembered.

“You’re a shapeshifter.”

A shy smile. “A werewolf, actually. You kind of are now too. The scratching and the…”

Hannibal slipped out of bed and walked to him only to stop just before they touched.

“Your name.”

“Will,” a sigh, “Will Graham.”

He leaned down and kissed Will’s forehead. “A pleasure to see you at last.”

Will clutched his back.

“The heart…”

Hannibal kissed his cheeks, “A formality.”

“It’s not,” Will sighed, “We need to eat it together.”

Hannibal took the heart from Will’s hand and then held out his other.

“Heart and eggs then? You can tell me the perils of werewolf life.”

Will laughed and entwined their fingers as he stood. “You’re taking this very well.”

Hannibal brought their joint hands to his lips.

“I am very well acquainted with being a monster already, Will. This is most definitely a bonus.”