Been A Son

BEEN A SON
chapter fourteen

The deaths of the two Omegas and Hannibal's reaction to discovering one of them was his patient haunted Will for the remainder of the day. Jack told them both to leave the lab early, he had Beverly's team taking care of it, and Will was thankful for the reprieve. Hannibal, for his part, seemed to have already put the incident behind him, though with careful digging Will could easily pull out that thread of sorrow and wrap it tight around Hannibal's neck. He chose not to, and opted instead for a topic far removed from the messages of madmen and innocence partially buried in earth.

"There's a special performance happening at the Opera House, by a soprano I haven't heard you mention, so I hope it's to your taste." Will watched Hannibal carefully as he moved about in their kitchen, his graceful movements mesmerizing even when making coffee. Arms strong and lean, pouring whole beans into the grinder, pulverizing them then measuring them into a spotless french coffee press while the water began to boil. He never poured still boiling water over the beans, lest they scorched and left the coffee with a burnt aftertaste. He waited until the bubbles within had calmed and only steaming heat remained before pouring the water into the press, the aroma of coffee a sudden tease for the senses. He waited a few minutes, preparing his own and Will's coffee mugs before depressing the plunger of the coffee press, the pressure against his palm stirring the grounds within. While he poured the coffee, Will took the gold envelope out of the side pocket of his jacket and slid it across the marble topped kitchen island toward Hannibal. "I decided to take the extra expense and got us one of those private balcony booths," Will added, giving Hannibal a nervous smile that belied his hope that his gift would be well received. There were lots of seats available, mainly because it was a midweek performance and the soprano was a virtual unknown. Will worried the performance wouldn't be up to Hannibal's exacting standards, but a quieter night out without the bustle of a massive crowd was a treat Will figured they could enjoy together.

Hannibal took the envelope in quiet question, his brows slightly raised when he saw they were tickets to 'The Pleas of Angels--A mixed collection of favoured arias as performed by soprano Geraldine Dupois' as indicated in delicate, gold script on the tickets. Will shrugged at the offering, unsure of Hannibal's protracted silence as he inspected the tickets, his maroon gaze never meeting Will's.

"You bought these for me," Hannibal said, a flatness to his tone that made Will cringe. He handed Will his coffee, omitting the two sweeteners and surrendering it black. Will took it without protest. Hannibal turned the tickets over, inspecting them as though he believed they were fakes. "You don't like the opera."

"No, but you do," Will said, shaking his head and frowning at Hannibal's reticence. "If you don't want to go, it's not a big deal, like I said it's a performance on the off night, and it might not be your thing. We can go for dinner at La Gourmand first, I made reservations for six o'clock, at that back table by the window."

"Cancel them," Hannibal abruptly said. "I am making dinner."

Will couldn't be certain if Hannibal was pleased or unhappy over the small gift, and the unreadable frost of his reaction was difficult to process. Will shakily picked up his mug of coffee and watched as Hannibal began inspecting the contents of their refrigerator, his mind quickly calculating what items he would need to make one of his culinary masterpieces. Will couldn't interpret Hannibal's need to make dinner as an act of reciprocity since he enjoyed making these tasty acts of creation. It was another gift, this one for himself, and Will was an afterthought amongst truffle oil and polished silverware.

"Hannibal, have I done something wrong?"

Hannibal clutched at his own mug of coffee, pure black and still steaming, his back to Will as he sipped it. "No," he said, and there was a tense strain in his voice Will wasn't used to hearing. "Far from it, dear Will. I will make a list, if you would be so kind enough to go shopping. I believe this is a night that calls for lamb, cooked in the Moroccan style with a good quality harissa and an Israeli couscous pilaf infused with fresh mint." He hesitated, finally turning towards Will, the cup of coffee poised delicately at his lips. "I applaud your choice of restaurant, Will, La Gourmand is an exceptional example of fine cuisine. But this is a private night, one infused with decision. I want to give it the proper attention it deserves."

With this cryptic response, Hannibal left Will alone in the kitchen, the small list hastily transcribed on a nearby notepad and pushed towards him as Hannibal headed back into the cellar, his steps lightly echoing upwards. Will frowned as he looked on the list, banal in its simplicity. His empathy was at a loss against Hannibal's icy front. Hannibal was hiding from him, and he couldn't understand why.

~*~
They spent the day mostly separated, with Will going over the case notes of the Omega murders, the photographs and annotations spread wide across Hannibal's former Alpha butchering table, an irony that wasn't lost on Will. The images of the young women and the butchered unknown Omega male burned into the back of his mind, and he felt an uneasy queasiness at the prospect of what this brutality meant. The Omega murderer was after power and control, and he'd earned it through the most vile means possible, upon the backs of those who had the least amount of protection in Coastline society. He was an experienced killer, even if he was a simplistic one, and the fact he had an aid in Mason Verger only made Will's rage at that pig-faced prick rise to the fore all the more. He hadn't yet heard from Alana, and he hoped her exploration of the Verger's basement hadn't resulted in her harm. He thought about sending her a text, but shrugged it off, knowing he was just being impatient. The less communication about their plans the better. Alana was good on her word, he could rely on her, she had as much at stake in taking out Mason Verger as he did.

A peeling back of his skin, that would reveal all he knew, Will thought. The hunting knife separating the epidermis from muscle, the fatty gristle beneath trimmed. He wondered how long a human being could live without flesh and he looked forward to finding out. Between screams he knew Mason would give up the name of his buyer and a well placed branding would give up even more secrets, though by then Will would have cut out his tongue. There would be no point listening to further perverted confessions when the only answer he sought was given.

His fingernail traced the close ups of the branding, in evidence on the two young women's backs and a small fragment of it left on the tattered flesh of the brutally tortured male Omega. It was the same as the one on Hannibal's back, which was finally receding into a pale pink welt that would eventually heal into obscuring scar tissue, leaving the ghost of puckered skin behind. Bile rose into Will's throat, and he forced it down, the thought of Hannibal harmed in such a way bringing all of his vengeful, murderous thoughts to the fore.

He could smell the delights of Hannibal's cooking wafting down into the cellar thanks to the trap door being left open, and he breathed them in deep. Memories of his grandmother working doughboys in her kitchen came drifting into him, unbidden, the pan sizzling hot as she fried them up, dusting them with sugar while they were still crinkling with oil. Blackened catfish and alligator stew, collard greens and sweet potatoes, all of it the standard culinary fare of his youth and weirdly exotic to the Coastliners who had no understanding of what it meant to trap, kill and butcher your own meals. As the heady spices of the harissa and charred lamb slid along the damp cool currents within their cellar home, Will had to wonder if Hannibal, too, understood that survivalist mentality. He could easily envision Hannibal gutting fish and butchering his own hogs, he'd had experience enough on human beings. It was a measure of commonality that was unexpected and that Will found himself smiling over, despite its gruesome beginnings. They both knew they had to do ugly things in order to properly survive, and that the end result wasn't always unpleasant.

Will checked his watch and noted that it was nearly time for dinner. He left the papers and photographs spread out on the stainless steel prep table and walked to the base of the cellar stairs, and shouted up at Hannibal. "I'm guessing dinner is nearly ready?"

"Yes, dear Will," was the response, and it held a certain note of pride within it that told Will he was to expect great things for Hannibal was set to make his mouth water. "It will be ready very shortly." There was a breathless tone to his voice as he fussed in his kitchen, the sounds of cutlery and steam echoing into the cellar space. "I will use the upstairs shower to get ready. Give me twenty minutes."

Will felt a little off about this, since Hannibal rarely used any of the rooms upstairs, and especially not the shower. Will was disappointed that he hadn't come downstairs to prep himself in his usual pomp, a shower partially shared and some gentle lovemaking enjoyed before the night began. He inwardly shrugged, that strange feeling that something was off winding through him again as he headed for the basement bathing room to separately get prepared. He'd bought a suit for the occasion this time, one specifically for formal functions that Hannibal would like to attend and was still getting invitations to, though it was Will they were addressed to now and Hannibal was his 'bonded Omega' accompaniment.

He could hear the pipes of the old house creak in surprise as the upstairs shower turned on, and Will hoped his own tandem shower didn't interfere with Hannibal's comfort beneath the jets of water. Temperature was always such a tricky thing to manoeuvre in the old home. He turned on the water to near scalding, as he liked it, and stripped carelessly, dropping his worn sweater and rumpled trousers to the damp floor, quickly followed by socks and underwear. He stepped beneath the hot water with a wincing readiness, the heat stinging his skin. He needed it as hot as possible to wash away the sins of others from him, to scrub off the memory of dead skin and lifeless bones. The piercing tips of the antlers that rose around him in the shower were blunted now, melting against the power of the water's cleansing. Only their rounded, cylindrical tangle remained, like bony pipes collecting around him. The surface of the antlers was thicker, Will noticed. Softer to the touch as his palms mentally glided over them.

Ten minutes later, he was finished and he shut the water off, grabbing a dry towel hanging on the rack and roughly smoothing it over his pink skin. He wrapped the towel around his midriff and gave himself a careful shaving, trimming his beard into more of an outline of his jutting jaw, his mop of hair tamed beneath a good combing and some hair gel. He looked more presentable than he had in months, he realized, and he gave his form a good once over, flexing some muscle and liking how his good health was being reflected back at him. He was never a vain man, and this was more an inspection of how life with Hannibal had changed him even on a physical level, in degrees of self care that he had normally discarded before. The purchase of the suit had been a turning point and he left the bathing room to get changed into it, feeling an unexpected anticipatory charge within him at the thought of dressing up for his mate. He borrowed Hannibal's cufflinks and one of his ties, details he was sure Hannibal would find amusing. He dressed quickly, buttoning up a starched, pale blue shirt before diving his arms into the jacket. He smoothed down the suit, giving himself a careful inspection in the mirror, noting that the shine of the navy blue went well with his complexion and the cut of it did accentuate the positives of his figure, smoothing out lines and giving him a firmer posture than his usual messy attire. His stomach rumbled as he fussed at the tie's knot, making sure the silken blue and black fabric didn't choke him. Simple black socks, a pair of good black leather shoes, and Will was ready to wind his arm through Hannibal's and mirror his elegance into the Opera House without incident, avoiding snobbish glares at missing buttons and the torn hem of an old jacket.

Will bounded upstairs, slamming the cellar door shut and shoving the oak table back over it with his hip. He was still fussing with the cufflinks, which glinted in the candlelight that punctuated the shadows in the dining room. Hannibal had formally set the table, complete with gold candles within the centrepiece of black feathers woven into a tight spiral. Will frowned. This was far more formal than he had been expecting.

Their wine, a distinctive dark red, had already been poured, but Hannibal wasn't in the kitchen or in the atrium where the harpsichord remained expectant. Will wandered down the dark hallway leading to the grand staircase and he silently stood at its base, looking upwards in hopes of catching a glimpse. He could hear Hannibal moving in one of the upstairs bedrooms, the wooden floor creaking with every step. He opened his mouth to shout up to him, only to close it again. Hannibal was fastidious in his timing, the poured drinks meaning one thing--Will was to sit at his place at the dining table and wait for him.

Will snagged the bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen island counter along the way and brought it with him into the dining room, placing it between their settings. Will was put at the head of the table, while Hannibal was seated in the first seat to his left, a cozy arrangement that Will appreciated. The dining room held a pleasant feeling of anticipation within it that was beginning to uplift Will's mood, especially with these little thoughtful touches spread throughout the experience, making it as formal and rich as any effort La Gourmand could make.

"Will?"

The question lingered in the air, drifting across a sultry current of darkness that moved in the gloom of the dining room. Will looked up over the golden candlelight to see Hannibal come into the room, and he nearly fell back in his chair at the sight that presented itself. Hannibal was not wearing one of his usual formal suits, trussed in a carefully ironed cotton shirt and black tie, he was, instead, attired in what was an elaborately embroidered silver and black silk jacket that hung to his calves, a matching pair of slender trousers accentuating the length of his legs. It was finery suited to Japanese male Omegas, of the kind Will had fantasized over in his grandmother's art deco books, the pale accent of his throat exposed above a plain silk black top that swept beneath his neck in an inverted crescent. His movements were his usual deer's steps, careful and considered, his long limbs draping around himself as he crouched near the ground beside Will's chair and handed him something black and soft. Will frowned as he took it, feeling the fine boning around the sides of the black lace, the thin silk ribbon a separate spiral laid in the centre of it. 'Hannibal," Will said, swallowing deeply. He grabbed his glass of wine and took a gulp before continuing. "This is a formal bonding collar, this is meant for a bonding ritual." He looked up and his breath caught at the image of Hannibal, his eyes ringed in kohl, another point of erotic reference that Hannibal had stolen from Will's past fantasies. "We are already bonded, why are you giving me this?"

Hannibal sank to his knees and Will's heart stopped as he turned his back to Will, his neck stretched and exposed, the white light from the candles dancing along the curved dip. "How we have come about entwining our lives together was committed under circumstances that were not ideal." Hannibal's profile was shrouded in shadows that accentuated his fine features, his androgyny markedly pronounced. "I am giving you my choice, Will. If you wish to bond me," he inclined his neck in invitation. "you may continue. I will not resist you."

Confusion fought within Will as he inspected the lace, harsh boning lining it every two inches in a wide circumference. "Hannibal, you don't have to do this."

"It's what I want to do."

"But.."

"You promised me you would give me whatever I wanted. I want this, Will. Bond me to you."

Hannibal closed his eyes and let out a satisfied sigh when Will draped the collar around his neck, positioning it so the girdled back of it was aligned with his spine, his fingers deftly threading the black silk through the tiny, embroidered loops.

His hands were trembling, and Will noted Hannibal was calm, unexpectedly docile as he threaded the silk through in a criss cross pattern, tightening it slightly as he made his way down. By the time he got to the final loops and was ready to make a knot, he could barely find his voice. "Hannibal...I bind you to me, to Will Graham. No other will have you..." Will closed his eyes and braced himself, emotion nearly overtaking him. He pressed his lips onto the top of Hannibal's head, his silken hair smoothed back close against his skull. "We obey laws that suit us. Our words are words we exchange between each other. May your body and my body find peace within our embrace."

He hesitated, taking the time to smooth out the shape of the formal bond around Hannibal's neck.

"Demand it of me, Will."

"I..."

"Please."

Will held his breath a long moment before letting it free. "I dedicate myself to you. I will never harm you."

Hannibal was tense beneath his touch for a long moment. "Those are not the words you said to me at the BHCI." His voice shook and Will steadied him with a press of his hand at the pulse point of his neck.

"They're the words I wanted to say."

Hannibal's body shivered, and Will felt dizzy from the scent of slick, his cock hardening in response. The ensuing silence with Hannibal on his knees in front of him was enough to do him in, and there was nothing he longed for more than to render all of Hannibal's clothes and take him on the dining room table, dinner and opera be damned.

"Tell me." The request wavered like candlelight.

Will let out a low growl, his hand tight on the back of Hannibal's neck, his body responding to the small, needy whine leaving it. His voice rasped, a dark groaning thing in Hannibal's ear. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure, dear Will."

Will pressed his face against the back of Hannibal's head, his mouth open as he tasted the fine circumference of his skull and moved down to the base of Hannibal's neck. He could feel Hannibal's thighs tense as another gush of slick left him and Will, still seated in his dining chair, wanted nothing more than to turn Hannibal around to ravish his mouth and take him. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead hard against the back of Hannibal's neck, the tight criss cross of silk ribbon and the surrounding boning hard enough to leave an impression on his skin.

"Submit to me."

Hannibal tilted his head back, over Will's shoulder, his eyes closed, leaving dark lines in place, his mouth slack and the scent of slick wafting up from between his legs and driving Will into an Alpha induced insanity.

"Yes."

Will growled loudly at this, his hands near tearing at the fabric as he took off Hannibal's silk jacket, and hastily began working at the fastenings of his own trousers. "Take off your fucking clothes," Will demanded of him, nips and kisses suckling along Hannibal's back as the slender but muscular Omega divested himself of the silk shirt and trousers, draping them over the chair next to them. He moved to unfasten the bonding collar, only for Will's hand to wrap tight around his fingers, preventing him.

"Leave that on."

Naked, save for the black lace bonding collar, Hannibal stood up and straddled Will's lap. His skin was smooth and pale in the near dark of the dining room, eagerly exposed to Will's touch. But Will was in no mood for foreplay, and with a sweep of his arm and a vicious growl he sent the dishes and candles flying off of the dining room table to crash onto the floor, raising up from his seat and making Hannibal the centrepiece in their place.

He fucked him. Deep and hard and forceful, Hannibal's cries of pleasure urging him on, until they were both on top of the dining room table, the light from the candles sputtered out as spilled over the edge, lit wax smouldering. He couldn't get deep inside enough, the white antlers glowing as they rose out of the floorboards and gleamed into the darkness of the room, caging them in within a vast halo of brilliant white spikes that were set to blind them. His cock pounded that little nub that sent Hannibal's cock into instant release, every muscle in his lithe body tensed like a tightly wound spring. He grabbed Hannibal's thighs, spreading him wider, an unexpected thickness between his legs overwhelming him. "Fuck...I'm going to knot..."

Hannibal's eyes widened as the ripples coursed inside of him, his limbs instinctively losing all muscle tone as they limply fell from their embracing, his body and mind lost to an extended orgasm that was completely in Will's control. Will wept into his neck, kissing and touching him with exaggerated tenderness. This wasn't an experience dictated in part by the biological needs of heat, Hannibal had given this to him. He'd surrendered himself completely of his own free will.

Will cradled Hannibal in his arms as his cock pulsed deep inside of him, knots holding Will in place. Hannibal was right, love wasn't a strong enough word for the bond Will felt at this moment, an entire history comprised of the past and future intertwined so deeply between them they were as the tangled roots of a tree, a nourishment for each other that coalesced into something whole. He held Hannibal's loose body tight, murmuring endearments he wasn't sure his Omega could hear. It was beautiful, this display of gleaming bone and enraptured passion. Hannibal fell and Will spiralled down into that deep ocean abyss with him.

~*~

Hannibal was definitely still riding on a protracted afterglow as they arrived at the Opera House, his maroon gaze heavily drugged with sex. Knotting had that affect on Alphas and especially Omegas, leaving them on an extended hormone induced high, and Will had tried to protest going to the opera at all since the effects were going to last most of the night, only for Hannibal to insist, his pout too sweet for a likewise hormonally drugged Will to deny. He had redressed in his sultry, Omega male geisha inspired Japanese threads, and after sweeping up the mess they'd made of the setting they had eaten dinner at the kitchen island, trading forkfuls of food and kisses between bites of a mutual plate balanced between them.

He'd been warned of this in sex ed all those years ago, the pointed, shaking finger of his coach admonishing all those hot and heavy Alphas to keep it in their pants until they were good and ready to bond. Both of them should have been more careful. The clearest thought Will could focus on was that the traffic had been unbearable thanks to all the McBain campaigning, so he bypassed the need for parking and ordered them both a taxi. Hannibal had fixed himself back into his polished perfection, though Will was a tad messier than when he had come up from the cellar for dinner, and neither were necessarily free of the stumbling steps into the waiting cab, where they collapsed in a tumbling heap into the back seat. Hannibal was in a near manic affectionate mood, constantly fixing Will's unruly locks and adjusting his tie and picking imaginary lint and smoothing wrinkles from his suit jacket. For his part, Will had his arm tucked tight beneath Hannibal's embroidered silver and black silk jacket the tiny sakura flowers shimmering in the dim cavern of the taxi. Will held him close with his arm around his waist, Hannibal nestled against his side in sighing pleasure.

The taxi driver was a grizzled Mainlander who had all the hallmarks of an Appalachian refugee, namely wiry grey hair that spun in every direction and a beard that hung past his shoulders and was in a likewise state. He grinned at them both through his rear view mirror. "Just got the knot, huh?" he asked and laughed loud enough to send his pine tree air freshener spinning. "That is nice, seeing people getting happily bonded for a change, I get sick and tired of these bastard Coastliners forcing little weeping girls off to their Alphas, like it's some kind of death sentence. Fucking crazy people live here. You're a Mainlander, you know how I can tell? Because that pretty one is happy and not afraid to show it. Ah, it is nice, go out, why not! Show those McBain bastards we know how to live just fine, right? Ah, my wife, she was like that when we bonded, couldn't stay out of my lap, so sweet. You will have very pretty children."

At that Hannibal slightly stiffened in Will's grasp, a pained expression quickly morphing across his features only to dissolve back into his nuzzling affection into Will's neck and chest. Will gentled him with fingers deftly pinching the knots of his spine at the base of Hannibal's neck, earning soft, involuntary humming whines as a result. By the time they got to the Opera House and Will had paid for the cab, giving a hefty tip, Will felt as though he was going through the motions of someone heavily inebriated. It was clear Hannibal was in worse shape, staggering with him, all sense of grace lost as they made their way up the steps. They were late and the performance had already begun, but they were able to slip into their private box seat without incident, and Will was grateful that he'd managed to obtain them, they were in no condition to be interacting with anyone other than each other.

This couldn't all be hormone induced, this strange, euphoric high that he couldn't seem to come down from. Hannibal was infected with it worse than he himself was, his body language overtly sensual and sexually confident, his limbs constantly draped over Will's frame, a persistent needful unspoken request for touch. As Will looked out into the crowd below, he could see the shining tips of their white antlers as they grew out from their collective skulls, red tipped in judgement as curious heads turned to view the two figures pressed close to one another in the box seat. The music sounded strange to Will, a kaleidoscope of sounds he couldn't quite untangle, jarring the otherwise beautiful notes. He felt disoriented, the effects of the knotting worse than after he'd had Hannibal during his heat, the theatre spinning into shreds of blood and fury, a firestorm of feeling erupting through the clanging notes enough to make his stomach lurch as he clung onto Hannibal, kissing him fervently before letting him go. Hannibal, his maroon gaze glassy, was just as unfocused as he stared at the stage, the notes making far more sense to him, speaking to him in a spiritual linguistic mantra that Will couldn't interpret and that didn't, in any reality other than Hannibal's, exist.

The Opera House was filled with more people than Will had anticipated, and had he been fully in control of his faculties he would have understood that this was because of an influx of McBain supporters who had sponsored the performance. The soprano was a svelte red haired woman in a glittering gold dress, her rendition of La Wally hypnotizing enough to dive through the chaos of Will's overly charged imagination, severing the spikes of white antlers against his skull in its poignancy. When she finished a blissful silence ensued and Will sat back in the heavily cushioned red velvet seat, thankful for the small relief against the sensory onslaught.

Piercing slaps hit him, and he opened his bleary eyes to see Hannibal standing in ovation, his hands eagerly clapping in rapture over her solo, his grin wide and predatory, teeth sharp enough to eat her should the opportunity present itself. Hannibal's manic joy should have been infectious, and Will, slouched back in a rather seductive pose in his seat, could only stare up at this statuesque, odd beauty, the slender outline of Hannibal's strong body shimmering with silver, that long, lovely neck girdled in erotically charged black lace. Hannibal, grinning widely in genuine happiness, an expression Will had never seen so openly indulged. Will felt something crack inside of his heart, and it was Hannibal that poured in. Otherworldly, even alien, that was the beauty Hannibal possessed, and Will wanted to sink to his knees and worship it, to kiss the soft underbelly of Hannibal's stomach and watch as those kohl encircled eyes fluttered shut as Will tasted that little fruit within him that was always so ripe and quivering by the time he found it. At this moment, Will Graham had even less interest in opera than he had ever had in his life, and all he really longed to do was take Hannibal back home to bed and make love to him until there wasn't anything left of either of them.

There was a strange silence overtaking Hannibal's joy, which faltered slightly, and Will frowned into it, wondering what had marred his Demeter's enthusiasm. He stared out into the bleeding collection of antlers below until they once again became people, and he realized they were all staring at Hannibal with shocked expressions of horror, as though he had wandered into their midst completely naked. Frowning, Will couldn't understand what was happening until he remembered he was in a formal setting, in the Opera House, and in such a place an Omega was not to applaud or show such emotion without the express permission of their Alpha. Will felt sick. Hannibal's delight was being shit on because Will hadn't been the one to stand up and clap first.

"Fucking bastards," Will said, getting to his feet and clapping at the crowd with angry force, and it was only then that they turned their heads back to the stage and began clapping for the soprano's performance, the glittering perfection of the elite tarnished like rust in Will's view. Hannibal sat with forced poise back into his seat, and Will wrapped his arm around his shoulders as he did likewise, his lips tracing around Hannibal's ear. "Are you having a good time?"

"I did not realize I would be feeling so...Out of control." Hannibal gave Will a wavering smile that held small notes of fear within it, and Will hated that it was the ostracizing of the crowd that had put it there. "I almost feel as though I have taken hallucinogens. I have never heard such a glorious rendition of La Wally, this theatre should be packed to bursting to listen to a soprano of such incredible talent. There is a very grave, selfish infection happening amongst those in the audience, Will, did you not witness it? Not a one stood up to congratulate her with an ovation! How very rude!"

"You gave her one," Will said, and lightly kissed him.

"Will, I admit it, I really do feel strange. I feel such intense happiness, it's overflowing inside of me to the point of pulling my body apart. It's like I've had a short circuit, and I feel impulsive and overly emotional. I need time for a reset. This didn't happen the first time we knotted, and while I understood this could be a potential after affect, I had no concept of this. My senses are overly attuned, my mind is racing with memories and want and calculations swirling inside of a black cavernous maw that only you can keep at bay. You will do that for me, won't you, my dear Will? Please, help me lock those dungeon doors again and wash an ocean over them so they can't be opened, I never want you and those horrors to ever stand in the same space. Victoriana, my precious girl, she was like my daughter, you must understand, that is how I viewed her and to see her on the ground, treated with such incomprehensible dismissal..." Hannibal's eyes were glassy with moisture, but it wasn't sorrow this time that threatened to erupt from him, but a tightly wound fury that could rival any Alpha's. "My darling, darling Will...Hold me close to you. I can't get enough of your arms."

Heedless of the crowd below, who were no doubt training their binoculars on them, Will crushed Hannibal's lips against his own, holding him tight enough to bruise. When he finally broke free, he pressed his forehead against Hannibal's and nodded. "I think we should go."

"We barely made it through one aria." Hannibal closed his eyes and braced himself against Will's embrace, until he checked his watch and nodded in terse agreement. "Perhaps we could spend a few moments in the gallery, away from the crowds. The Caravaggio is gone but there is an Edward Burne-Jones now on display in its place. 'The Beguiling Of Merlin'. It's a study of longing after that which is set to betray and destroy us. It's a fascinating piece, Will, I do think you will appreciate it. Burne-Jones went mad after finishing each of his paintings and detested his notoriety, which resulted in getting more commissions and going mad more often. This particular painting has a dual meaning--it is representative of his relationship with his mistress, which was an especially stormy tempest. She threw herself in the Thames when he refused to run away with her."

Will leaned into him, his grin touching along the periphery of Hannibal's lips. "Is that what you are set to do to me, Hannibal?" he asked. "Drive me mad?"

"That's yet to be determined, Will. If you place your hands a little lower, you may decide that going mad is perfectly reasonable."

"My hands are on your hips. Just how low do you want me to go?"

Hannibal gave him a crooked, evil grin. "In cases such as this, dear Will, is decorum more important than the rush of the furious heart?"

He definitely wanted to go mad, he wanted to slide hands down the sides of those silk trousers and tease the waistline until they hugged lower, allowing him access, where he could rub and stroke that hot flesh until Hannibal gave those bastard Coastline pricks something to really be scandalized about. Instead, he forced himself to hold back, open mouthed kisses gliding across the top of Hannibal's cool, smooth forehead. "I'm thinking if you want to know what it's like to have me beguiled you've already got a front row show."

"Will." Hannibal stole his bottom lip, chewing it thoughtfully before releasing it. "When you knotted me it was as though you took over me, my actions were no longer my own, my body entirely vulnerable to your whims. It is a shocking thing to find myself unscathed from that trust, and I hold you in wonder, that you do not take advantage, that you do not cause me harm. I am aware of how you kiss me when I am helpless, Will. It is a courtesy that I admit I don't know what to do with and I am terrified by it, it leaves me shattered and unable to piece the ceramic shards of who I am back into a cohesive whole. Will..." Dark, near black eyes met Will's dreaming blue. "Do you think you can do that to me again?"

"Oh yes," Will said, gleaming in prideful confidence as he lightly kissed Hannibal's pouting lips. "Maybe even later tonight."

Will left his seat and Hannibal followed him while the orchestra tuned its instruments during the intermission which was already ten minutes in. There must have been more, and they had missed it, so focused and drunk on each other the world was disappearing outside of their perceptions. Allowing himself to be led by the hand, Will was brought down the staircase to the main foyer where Hannibal earned rolling eyes and raised brows, the outrageous eccentricity of his attire mired in blatant sexuality. "You are the belle of the ball tonight," Will said to him, nipping at the embroidered silk at his shoulder. "If they aren't disgusted by you they want to fuck you, and none of them can do a thing about it because you are with a miserable little dog like me. I won't be afraid to go for the throat of anyone who dares to insult you."

That promise was about to be tested as Dr. Frederick Chilton suddenly marched into view, his face puffy and red with a frustrated anger that was directed at them both. "Dear God, I get free tickets to the opera and Deirdre forces me to come here and who am I running into but the two of you!  I'm cursed, there's no other explanation for it.  You'd have to be a blind man not to know what's going on with you two, this is highly irresponsible!  Honestly, Hannibal, what the hell are you doing?" He nodded for them both to follow him into the gallery, where they were decidedly alone, the conversation not one Frederick himself wanted overheard. He gestured with wide eyes at Hannibal, a wince ending at Hannibal's throat. "What the devil are you wearing? Are you wearing *eye-liner*? Make-up and a whore's corset on your neck? Are you insane?"

Hannibal raised his chin in sultry pride. "As a doctor of the mind I would assume you would have the tools to make that determination, Fred."

"You are making an embarrassing spectacle of yourself, giving an ovation without your Alpha's support and wearing a get up like this, like some World Depression era geisha, honestly! And you," he turned on Will. "You should never have let him leave the house like this! For God's sake, the two of you reek of knotting, what are you doing out in public? Any idiot can see you are both stoned out of your minds!"

Will stood back from Chilton, an uncomfortable flashback of his father admonishing him for being too aggressive with a Beta girlfriend rising to the forefront of his memory. His father had taken a bit of playful ribbing about her grades way out of context and while he wanted to superimpose that injustice on this one, he had to concede yes, his father did have a point back then, the girl had been crying after all, and yes...Fucking Chilton had one, too.

"You are a surgeon, Hannibal," Chilton said to the Omega, who was now leaning provocatively against Will, and giving Chilton a highly unabashed grin that was absolutely not sorry about anything that was happening. "You know what happens to the Omegan body during knotting, I think most grade schoolers do these days. Massive influx of endorphins, scrambling of dopamine levels, obstruction of the areas of the brain controlling impulse control and reasoning, it's a wonder you aren't having hallucinations..."

"The lights are exceptionally bright in here," Hannibal said, squinting as they passed one of the special lamps used on the paintings. "As for my attire, I did not believe you to be such a conservative, Fred, or is it that you are simply used to seeing me in threads that are more Alpha in composition? It is plainly obvious to everyone now that I am an Omega, why should I not flaunt it?"

"Hannibal of all the things I have known you to be, there is one that I have never had to put on that list, and when you have come to your senses by morning, you will be hearing this word echoing across the snobbish realms of your decorum. You are stubborn, vain, at times immoral, but you have never been, in all the time I have known you--gauche."

Hannibal openly laughed at this, and it was a truly bitchy dismissal. "Really, Fred, you need to be more careful in your discourse. I am here with my Alpha and if you want to trash talk to me, you'd best be advised you are courting rivalry."

"I am bonded to an Alpha," Chilton evenly said. "I have every understanding of what a relationship with them is like. Go home, the two of you, and sleep or fuck this off, I don't care. I don't understand it, it's like you both have no frame of reference of what it is to act like a couple in public. You can't be pawing each other, the bonding silk only goes so far and there's plenty of much larger Alphas than you, Will Graham, who would be more than willing to tempt rivalry."

He was certainly killing their buzz. Will wound his arm around Hannibal's waist, liking the way the open display of affection made Chilton's jaw clench. "Not to worry, Dr. Chilton. I'm sure you'll be scheduling lots of useless therapy by morning. What time can we expect Dr. DuMaurier to slither up to our front porch and poke at how we like playing with each other's bits?"

"I fired Bedelia."

Will paused, and Hannibal also took note as Chilton pinched at his brow with his fingertips and looked hastily over his shoulder, no doubt for his Alpha wife Deirdre who was searching for her partner. "I caught her taking bribes from the GSF, they wanted Hannibal's admitting BHCI case notes and she was going to give them up."

Will narrowed his eyes at Chilton. "You handed all of those notes into my care, that's the law.'

Chilton rolled his eyes and shook his head at Will's accusation. "I kept a copy. We've never had a male Omega before, the opportunity to go over initial findings were too tempting. I gave her the file to peruse in my presence and I caught her trying to steal them out of my locked cabinet a few days later."

"Dr. Chilton, that is highly unethical," Hannibal said, and his voice was devoid of any trace of residual knotting playfulness, and it was instantly replaced with that awful non person ice that Hannibal felt comfort in when faced with danger. Will hated Chilton for killing their beautiful high. He tried to gentle the back of Hannibal's neck and earned a flinch in response, and Will stepped back as though he'd been gored.

"It was," Chilton admitted, and he genuinely looked upset with his own weakness. "There is...information in those files..."

"I burned them at first opportunity, they made excellent kindling for the fireplace in my office."

Chilton nodded at this. "A wise decision, one I should have made myself. I assure you, the files have been destroyed and Dr. DuMaurier is no longer your therapist. I'm afraid in the interim you are going to have to suffer a session with me." He gave Will's withering glare a curt nod. "I suggest you not protest it, not unless you want the GSF involved and it's clear they want to be if they are lining the pockets of my associates. Tomorrow at noon. We can discuss your proclivities for drama then."

He stormed off, leaving them alone and heavily chastised in the gallery, all hope of having an enjoyable evening lost. Melancholy, dark and oppressive moved in place of their former joy and Hannibal pointed to his neck, grimacing down at Will. "Get this off of me."

Will complied, the thin silk ribbon coming apart easily. He unthreaded it as quickly as he could, feeling the strange panic rising within Hannibal, one that had hovering within him since the murder scene that morning. "I should have been more careful with you. He's right, I should be thinking about your safety."

Hannibal tore away from him, the lace corset at his neck breaking free. He snatched the thin black ribbon from Will's grasp and hastily wrapped it around his neck instead. "As your bonded mate, I demand of you to throw me against the rocks at every opportunity, dear Will." He pulled him into a passionate kiss that tasted him down into the floorboards beneath their feet, and only let him up for air when it was clear they were drowning. He framed Will's face in his hands, their mutual panting bringing back a more favourable understanding between them. "I expect nothing less, Will. You have me because you have already shattered me. The broken pieces you find will never collect into a whole you can truly understand. That is what you need to accept."

He marched ahead of him, out of the gallery and to the front foyer, head held high and proud, daring anyone to make a crack about his status. Will followed behind, a dutiful Alpha who was significantly less powerful in this relationship than the outside world believed. He'd wanted what they had when they arrived here, he wanted Hannibal's joy back. But that was an increasingly difficult treasure to find. He felt sick at the very real possibility that the image of Hannibal, so enamoured and happy he forgot himself and stood up to offer a standing ovation, that beautiful memory was never to be repeated. Hannibal refused to surrender the lock and key to his own demons. Will was only permitted to hear them scratch and scrabble at his dungeon door.