Archive of Our Own ^beta

Alpha Hannibal was not particularly fond of omegas. Most he detested; while he had treated many, he found the stereotypes to be largely true. Feeble-minded, a mess, delicate, and wanting a knot were all characteristics that came to mind.

Yet, when Will walked into his office, his scent blocker peeling just the slightest bit. With it, allowed the smell of river air and iron rich blood to seep through the air; if Hannibal could wear it every day as a perfume, he would.

He cleared his throat. “Your scent blocker, Will.”

Will’s face flushed, immediately fidgeting in his pockets for another. “Sorry.”

“No need. If it’s uncomfortable, I do not mind you taking it off. The omegas I have treated previously preferred it, actually."

Will was one of the few omegas Hannibal found himself being able to stand. For one, the man had the ability to be in the FBI, and that was enough to mark a page in Hannibal's books. However, he was the opposite of insufferable, and even fascinating.

While he marked off every checkbox Hannibal had, he did it in a way that was captivating.

Omegas were naturally messy- no matter how they might try and keep the house tidy, it would ultimately always fall on the alpha or a beta to clean. Will was of course, no exception, his rooms a disorganized tornado of chaos, and his outfits barely put together.

Then there was the being knot-hungry; this was the one he was most hesitant to label Will with, yet it fit. While it was never outwardly asked for, the rag-tag family was more than sufficient evidence.

Of course, being feebleminded. He couldn't handle cases, leading him to his very office. Intellectual, yet unable to handle knowledge must've been a curse on Will, doomed by his own second gender. A pity, really.

The last part was delicate. While Will tried every part to not fit this, it was more than accurate. His headaches from the slightest of changes, his clothing that he practically threw a fit over keeping the one time Hannibal suggested a new shirt, the need for quiet.

He returned his attention to Will, who was sheepishly taking off the blockers and throwing them in the trash. "Are you sure? It's just been a long day, I don't mind not wearing them."

"Will, I wouldn't suggest it if I weren't okay with it. You underestimate me."

"I'm just being polite," Will snapped back; a rare trait for an omega, to banter with alphas, especially those of Hannibal's tenor. He appreciated it, even if all he wanted to do was to take him over his lap as a result. "God forbid."

A smile flickered across his face, Will softening just a fraction underneath it.

He took in a deep breath; iron rich blood mixed with apprehension and notes of strong, stark whiskey. Unappealing and nauseating to most, it captivated him.

"So—"

"I don't talk about it," Will interrupted him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Nothing to say. I'm an omega. So what?"

The words hid deep resentment, a curious thing, begging a question Hannibal already knew the answer to. "Did your father approve?"

"Easy bait, Dr. Lecter."

"So he did not?"

"He was a beta who came from a long line of betas. It's not he didn't approve, he just didn't know what to make of it," Will said, explaining it away— surely, there was some sort of trauma layered underneath the concrete like walls that were his clarifications, but those would be a topic for a different day. "In his eyes, I'd eventually find a nice alpha, and he'd have nothing to do with it."

"Easier to ignore, then."

"I suppose you could say that."

Hannibal jotted a meaningless scribble in his notebook before looking back up. "Were you ever on any medications for it?"

"I was on suppressants for a while. The police force was easier with it, then I got shot and I went off it for recovery."

"You didn't go back on it?"

"They made me sick."

"An unusual display of self-preservation from you."

Will huffed in laughter. "I'm not always destructive, unlike what you and Alana think."

"Perhaps not," he conceded. "But still, a surprise."

"You think very highly of me."

Hannibal smiled at his sarcasm. "Trust me, Will, I think the world of you."

"Are you flirting with me?" Will retorted.

"I'm merely stating my opinion. If I were to entertain a crush on you, Will—"

"Are you saying you want to fuck me?"

"Would you enjoy that?" Hannibal asked, cocking his head at the crudeness (yet truthfulness) of Will's question.

"Maybe."

A declaration of uncertainty; from anyone else, it would've sounded like a no, or a pressured yes. From Will, though? It sounded like an actual maybe.

"Maybe?" Hannibal repeated back, allowing a soft smile to cross his face. He had to make sure Will was the one believing he was leading, not Hannibal himself.

"I don't know. You're— you're something, but you're— fuck, Hannibal, I don't know."

"Do you remember what I had told you before?"

"'Am I your psychiatrist, Will, or are we simply having conversations?'" Will recited. "You are. I mean, kind of. Legally, you are, and that already just creates something between us."

"In an earlier session, I recall your dislike of social constructs. You viewed them as made up imbecilic ideas, am I right?"

"Yes."

"You still believe that?"

Will hesitated. "Yes."

"The idea of power dynamics between a doctor and patient is dependent upon the person. While I'm sure it can be unhealthy between some, I do not view us as having an uneven playing field, Will."

The two went quiet for a moment, tense silence and Will's apprehensive scent filling the air between them. Then Will spoke, voice tantalizing as always, unnaturally husky in a way uncommon for omegas who so often hid it.

"If I accept, then what? Would you mate me, or simply court me?"

"It could always be as simple as a causal fling."

Will snorted. "It's never simple with you, Dr. Lecter."

"Maybe not. I can try."

A glance to the side, hesitance to say no, and Hannibal knew he had already won the battle. Before Will could speak, Hannibal interrupted him before he could make a statement of his own.

"Allow me to show you, Will."

The omega's eyes softened just a margin, falling for the obvious courting display; his want for a knot won out over common sense, evidently. "Fine."

Hannibal stood, walking over. "Would the couch suffice?"

"It's more comfortable than the floor," he retorted, standing in turn.

Hannibal gripped Will's shoulder, leading him to the couch as he inhaled in his scent. Stiff underneath him, Hannibal laid him down on the chaise, before sitting on the edge. The tension in the room was thick and heady enough to cut through with a knife, and yet, he did not find it displeasurable.

"Strip for me, please," Hannibal instructed.

Will narrowed his eyebrows, but followed anyways, unbuttoning his flannel and tossing it to the floor, before working on his cheap button-up. If Hannibal had him, he'd make sure Will wore only the finest of clothes, no matter how much Will protested.

Not yet, he reminded himself, observing as the clothes fell to the floor in a mess. If Will was his omega, he'd teach him proper manners, but for now, it was to play the long game. Hannibal was a patient man.

The hardening of his own dick came nearly as soon as Will had revealed the slightest hint of skin. Arousal flooded his mind, making it difficult to think unless he purposefully forced himself to breathe, almost like a schoolboy.

When Will was naked, he undressed himself. Carefully unbuttoning his button-up, he watched from his peripheral vision as Will laid on his back waiting. Defensive as always, though he would've expected nothing less.

It felt impossibly long before he was finally undressed, naked and the cool draft of air made his hair stand on end.

"I'll get on my stomach— you need to finger me first, yeah?"

"Yes," he confirmed, breath catching as Will's gorgeous, lithe body turned over. "Outside of heat, a knot without careful preparation is likely to tear and cause pain."

Will's hole was already wet as he inserted a finger, twirling it, feeling as Will bucked underneath him, muttering a curse. Adding an additional two, he began to stretch him open, scissoring and widening him every which way.

"Did you know the average omegan male makes far more slick and semen than your average female omegan, alpha, or beta?"

"I thought— thought that was a myth," Will gasped out as Hannibal continued to roughly finger his hole. "God—" he began to say, before biting his lip.

The slick that oozed out of Will's hole was obscene, coating his hands as he pressed lightly on the anal glands. He thought back to the case studies he had poured over back in medical school for less than professional reasons.

'…The slick a healthy adult male omega produces can often exceed what is expected in cases where he is enjoying it. Even in a clinical setting, however…' had been a particular favorite, and now he knew it to be nothing less than the truth.

It was impossible to focus on anything other than the squirming omega beneath him, rutting desperately against his fingers. Surely, he was prepared enough by now.

He ran his hand over his wet, needy hole, and it was more than enough slick to properly lube up his cock. Now stretched, there was nothing stopping him from impaling the entrance to Will's ass.

Hannibal grabbed his hips, thrusting into the wet, warm tightness.

"More, please, more, I need it, Dr. Lecter," Will all but screamed, and Hannibal was glad that he had made the wise decision of having Will as his last patient of the day. "Please, pleasepleaseplease—"

He bucked and moaned under Hannibal's cock, folds leading up to his pert, small omegan cock glistening with utter slick. Messy, messy boy.

He pumped in and out, feeling his knot already swell with every gush of slick pouring out of the man's hole.

"Dr. Lecter," Will whimpered, keeping it from being personal even in the most intimate of situations. "Please!"

He answered Will with a devouring kiss, tasting his mouth. He groaned back, meeting the older man. The omega tasted like day old coffee, unique and wonderful in all the right ways.

Hannibal bit down hard on Will's lower lip, and he jolted upwards, seating himself further on his knot. Blood dripped off his lip, Hannibal sucking it, and Will pushing his chest up.

Two firm arms wrapped around Hannibal's back, the sudden unexpected touch making his brain short circuit for a second, before he took it. Will was an omega, after all, a need for physical touch embedded in his every cell.

He fisted Will's hair, holding onto it tightly, an outlet of pheromones all but pouring out and flooding the room with happy, content Omega. Will keened underneath the rough touch, leaning into it.

He continued to pump into Will, each thrust shorter and shorter until his knot had inflated to the point where he could no longer do so, only moving an inch or so.

"Will," he murmured, lifting up his hand to grasp Will's scent gland. "Come, darling."

The instruction left Will bucking and coming, his small dick somehow producing a mess of sticky hot ropes of cum, landing all over both his and Hannibal's skin.

"Dr. Lecter," he gasped, breath catching in his throat. "Fuck."

"I could tie you up. Leave you like this, rope knotted around your arms until you can barely hump against the bed."

"Do not," Will hissed, eyes shut, coming down from his orgasm. "Don't you dare."

Leaning down close, Hannibal nipped at his ear before replying. "I wouldn't be so cruel as to do that."

He began to rut into Will's hole as much as he was able to once again, feeling how his knot caught at the end of his hole. Only an inch, give or take, and yet, it felt better than any thrust he could give to Will. Hannibal's hands stayed planted around Will's hips, clawing bruises that were sure to persist for weeks after, but he couldn't care less.

Finally, Hannibal came, orgasm racking his body, as Will's body milked his cock, pulsating around him. He had nearly fallen over, and he was sure if he was standing, he'd had stumbled and ripped himself loose. The utter high that filled his body reminded him of why a beta never satisfied him.

As he came down from his pseudo-high, Hannibal could see the stickiness of Will's (and his own) semen drying on the couch, alongside slick, utterly ruined. For Will, he'd destroy it ten times over, pay every price needed to be fixed, replace it every time if need be.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting to where they both would be laying down— not just Will— and feeling the drying dishevelment beneath him.

"Not a problem, dear Will."

He expected a response— some sort of snark, some sort of turning up his nose— but what he did not expect was the feel of the omega's hot and heavy breath against his neck.

Will's hands had clambered up to Hannibal's throat, pulling himself up just far enough to where his mouth met his throat. Petting the younger omega's hair, he let him suckle and nip just enough to relieve his instincts. He, did however, sharply pull him away whenever he hovered over Hannibal's actual gland and not just in the vague direction.

"Sweet boy," Hannibal murmured. "Mielasis."

The praise sent Will purring, post-coital haziness making him kitten-like. The soothing rumble against his chest seemed to calm his every constantly fragile nerve.

His knot deflated, and as it did so, Will dozed off, half asleep on his office chaise lounge. He had half a mind to take the couch home and center it in his bedroom; somewhere where it would be prized and treasured, not touched by anyone except for him.

The soft, rumbling purrs of Will nestled against him were quiet, and his face was relaxed in sleep. Likely, Will had not slept without the disturbance of memories and nightmares in age. while he couldn't guarantee monsters would show up in his dreams, he had a feeling Will had at least been able to go to bed without unwanted memories flashing through his brain as he so often described.

He'd mate Will some day, perhaps soon or far away, but it was to be done; as soon as he had saw his face of wanton pleasure, he'd known what he wanted out of Will.

And was it truly such a crime, to want this sort of domestic tranquility? He'd take the towels underneath them if he had to, the cum and slick that seeped into every inch of his furniture, the cursing and the fractured mess that was Will.

"You need to eat, Will," Hannibal said, slowly guiding Will off his cock and onto the chaise lounge. He draped a blanket over Will as he watched him stir. "I will be back with what was supposed to be today's lunch. Luckily, I was too distracted to eat it."

The side room possessed a microwave. It was far from his favorite form of reheating food, but the stove equipped would've taken too long. He could hear shuffling from the office, and sighed, knowing what was already happening much to his chagrin.

"I need to go," Will stuttered, already half dressed (as he had expected) when Hannibal re-entered the room with a Tupperware of freshly heated food. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry."

"Why do you think it was a mistake?"

"Don't- just, don't, Dr. Lecter. You already know why," he hissed.

Before Hannibal could press a further answer out of the boy, his shoes were on, and then Will was stumbling out the door. Sour distress trails lingers behind him; the boy forgot to put his scent blockers back on.

Vulnerability was certainly something they'd have to work on in future sessions.