Chapter Text
Will knew his son for the twenty minutes it took for him to decide.
Hannibal did not cry or fuss, and later, Will would learn his son was unable to speak. Will blamed himself for his defects and scribbled in the margins of his confession: To Hannibal, I’m sorry I failed.
Following the attempt on his newborn’s life, Will was bounced between state psychiatric hospitals, while his son experienced a revolving door of foster parents. It was a media storm; the thought of an omega harming their own pup was an unspeakable horror in their alpha-dominated society, and he was branded a psychotic bitch by media reporters and internet arm chair psychologists alike.
The trial was cut-and-dry.
By court order, and with some strings pulled by his father's FBI agent friend Jack, Hannibal would officially remain under Will’s guardianship, but until Will’s mental fitness was determined, they were strictly forbidden from having contact until Hannibal reached the age of consent. Then, it was his decision whether or not he wanted to bury the so-called hatchet.
None of it mattered to Will.
Will was meditating, as he tended to do in the stark white solitary room, waist-deep in the river of his imagination. “If the person you name it after cherished you, as the superstition goes, you will catch the fish.”
“What did you name it?” Hannibal asked beside him, mouth moving mutely over the rushing current. But Will understood.
A mother is attuned to their child the same way a radio tunes into certain frequencies.
Smiling, Will grazed the fly lure along his thumb. “Hannibal. For good luck.”
Will was released on good behavior the next day and was pleasantly surprised that Hannibal had accepted his request for visitation.
He attributed some of it to his delusion that Hannibal had been radio-tuned to him in the same way, but sometimes the frequencies got scrambled. The reality was much different than he’d expected.
Hannibal was nearly as tall as him (if not taller), causing Will's neck to hunch down reflexively, and his buoyant mood to instantly deflate. Opposite to Will, Hannibal was blond, handsome, and austere, like he had been cut from ancient marble instead of Will’s entrails. The way he moved from the doorway to give him entrance gave Will the mental image of a lean and graceful lion, a comparison that sparked Will’s prey instinct and made the hair at the back of his neck stand in agitation. He'd presented Alpha, his foster mother proudly purred as Will stood face to face with his creation, flabbergasted. An early presentation, she added.
Will bit his tongue with vitriol, and smiled flatly at her. “Could I have a moment alone with my son?” Emphasis on my. Despite being creeped out by Hannibal’s laser-focused stare, he was more keen on squashing any doubts as to who Hannibal's true omega was right then and there. His suffering had not been for naught. Especially not for some mousy beta woman to preen over what belonged to him.
Hannibal’s foster mother got the message, and quickly excused herself from the room, sorry for imposing on their moment.
Finally, alone. Will’s lips curled in a tiny fanged smile and he paced closer, circling him. “Well, well. Look at you. You may be all grown up now, but you’ll always be my baby boy. I've never forgotten, y'know,” he sighed wistfully. “I thought about you nearly every second in that hell. I imagined this moment.” Imagined it differently, with more fanfare, and a lot more feeling. Less static.
Hannibal’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head in silent, pained acknowledgment.
Will mirrored his movement. “Huh. Can’t speak or won’t speak?”
Regretfully, Hannibal shook his head “no”, and held his throat.
“That’s alright, baby. It doesn’t matter. Mommy understands. You and I, we’re tuned in like a radio station.” Will grabbed him by the cheeks, curious by the dusting of pink there, and the small shiver it invited—“I got my knobs mixed up. I know I did a bad thing but I’m here now, and I’m gonna take real good care of you. I promise.”
Purring, Will gripped his son by the shoulders and pulled him close. He re-categorized Hannibal’s familiar musky scent with a long inhale at his sandy hair. The hint of arousal and virility oozing from his full-blooded Alpha son made him dizzy, and he rubbed against him in a full-body scent mark. “Mine,” Will whispered fiercely, lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of Hannibal’s pouty mouth. “You’re mine.”
Hannibal stiffened but instinct trumped his feelings of conflict, and with a crumbling dam of emotion, he buried his face in Will’s breast. Will began rocking him like a baby, acutely aware of Hannibal’s hot breath on his nipple, the responding wetness between his legs making it all the more palpable. It was primitive, something instinctive then, that drove Hannibal to take the quickly hardening bud into his mouth and suck, and for Will to indulge him with a soft, motherly coo, “Oh, my baby boy.”
At that, Will felt his son’s pants tent, and he laughed in derision. “Here I was, worried you wouldn’t be happy to see your mommy. But that’s just a normal reaction, ain’t it? You’re an Alpha, I’m an omega.” He reached down and gave Hannibal’s stiff bulge a firm squeeze, moaning softly, “It’s an omega’s job, my job, to make sure you’re feeling good. That feel good, baby?”
Hannibal made a gruff sound in his throat as he nodded, his starvation evident by the audible sucking sounds. His hands reached for Will’s ample omega breasts through his baggy t-shirt, betraying his disbelief that his mother had reappeared after sixteen years.
“Good boy. That's a good boy. You must have been so lonely without your mommy,” Will spoke low, eyes fixed anxiously on the doorway, watching for any signs of movement from the foster parents as he palmed his son’s cock through his pants. “So hungry for mommy. Your real mommy.”
He had to be careful. He wasn’t going back to that place. Not because of a momentary lapse in judgment, his omega instincts going haywire after a decade of celibacy. Plus, it was Hannibal’s fault for smelling so mind fucking delicious that Will just wanted to roll in all his bad decisions, right and wrong be damned.
“Haa...” Hannibal rocked into him with a demanding growl, and Will hushed him, working his trembling hands past the zipper of his pants so that he could stroke his slick shaft. The head of his Alphahood twitched in interest and dribbled precum in thick strings giving Will’s palm enough glide.
“See? I said I’d take care of you.” Will licked his lips, his voice raspy. He was appalled at the depths of his own depravity, but unable to control himself.
He blamed it on the lack of a familial bond, the fact that Hannibal had been separated from him so young they’d never gotten the chance to develop the proper lines that should have prevented a thing like this from happening, because if not for that, then it would mean blaming himself.
Wordlessly, Hannibal panted around Will’s saliva-coated nipple between open-mouthed sucks, communicating his need to cum.
The feel of Hannibal’s fat knot expanding in between his pumping fist dragged a throaty purr from Will, and he pushed them against the wall, out of immediate sight from the open doorway. “Quick, baby. We don’t have much time.”
He pet Hannibal’s hot nape with a sweaty hand, and mewled sweetly, “Mm. Come on, Hannibal, don't be so greedy… don’t forget about your mommy. It's not fair if you don’t touch me, too.” He led one of Hannibal’s hands between his own legs and held it there, pressed against his throbbing wet cunt as he jerked his hips. Slender, inexperienced fingers, driven by the instinct to please, rubbed along his wet folds through his flimsy joggers, and Will couldn’t remember ever pumping out so much slick.
Hannibal reached climax first, knotting Will’s tight fist as he ejaculated in milky white streaks, some of it catching Will against the chin with the intensity of it.
After, Will dropped like a trembling leaf onto his knees, groaning wretchedly as he took his son's heavy cock into his mouth. Hannibal's muscles tensed and he clutched at his head, doubling over again in sordid pleasure as Will licked and sucked him down to the very last drop. I love him. I want him to feel good. I'm making him feel good, and that's what good mothers do, were the thoughts that scraped against his consciousness like nails on a chalkboard. The salty, earthy taste of Alpha on his tongue was just a momentary indulgence, born out of a desperate desire to be close to him. Will fingered his thumb-sized omega cock through his underwear, suckling the firm sac of Hannibal's throbbing knot mindlessly through his orgasm. “Ahh, ‘Annibal…” he moaned through a mouthful of cock, body shuddering around thick pulses of slick from between his legs that slowly trickled down into an increasingly perverse awareness.
“Fuck.” Will drew away first and rubbed his soiled hand on his thigh as he shot back to his feet. The room was ripe with their conjoined scents. He thanked God that Hannibal's foster parents were beta and thus lacked the ability to scent their sex pheromones, otherwise it was back to the hole. "Fuck," he whined again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust, choking on reality’s ice-cold grip.
He fought the urge to spit, and in a sick state of panic, he hastily yanked up Hannibal’s pants and shoved him away with a hiss. "Go on. Get yourself proper."
Obediently, Hannibal re-did his zipper and smoothed back his hair. His eyes drifted to the drops of semen still clinging to Will’s face, a twisted pride pulsating within them as he realized the significance of marking his mother; an alpha marking their omega.
“What?” Will snapped.
Hannibal made a wiping motion with his hand.
Will furiously scrubbed his face, mortified at the residual tackiness that came away on his fingers.
And they pretended like nothing had happened.
Will carried on with a fake smile plastered on his face, so good at playing the rehabilitated inmate, that you'd have never guessed he was an attempted child killer, much less someone who’d engaged in sexually taboo acts with said child the first chance he’d gotten alone with him.
They shook hands at the end of the visit and hugged. Will leaned back and stared misty-eyed at his non-verbal son. "It was good to see you again, Hannibal."
Afterward, smile fading, he mouthed, nails digging sharply into his shoulders—"Tell anyone about this and you're dead."
There was static all around him.
Hannibal could only nod in response.