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Hannibal may have set Will free from his confines at the BSHCI but there's nothing liberating about being back in the real world. It's more like a wall has been broken down in the labyrinth of experiments that Will's been placed in, giving the impression of escape but only leading to another maze. Another combination of winding corridors and dead ends with all exits pointing in one direction, to one person.
Hannibal.
Will has tried the circuitous route, tried to invoke his vengeance on Hannibal by way of proxies. His whole body vibrating with anger, bones rattling like the prison bars he clenched tight and white knuckled when he first heard of Beverly's death. But Matthew Brown had failed, and Hannibal had lived.
And of course he had lived. Hannibal moves through the world with supernatural finesse, godlike. His meticulous planning is what allows him to evade authority all so effortlessly whilst fanning the cheese under everyone's nose like lab rats. He crafts his plans like an omniscient author; no matter what character you are in his story, whether unbidden or not, you will play your part.
And if Hannibal were to ever die, he would only have it one way.
By Will's touch, succumbing to the corruption deep inside of him. Their two bodies soaked crimson in blood, the puddles of red carnage the perfect surface to reflect their true selves. To see and to be seen.
Only in Hannibal's death would Will be free of him. And while Will does not want to play at Hannibal's game, he cannot deny how appealing the thought is. His hands wrapped around Hannibal's broad neck, possessing Hannibal's last breath as he squeezes it out of him.
He could do it. Will could sneak into Hannibal's home again, sans gun, and end this tumultuous obsession. Address this complex array of feelings whenever Will thinks about Hannibal.
But there are still obstacles in the way to that direct path to him.
Much like a novel, Hannibal was not satisfied with just the plot between the two of them. He's written in these side plots, for his entertainment.
There’s one particular contingency that Will can’t seem to scratch from his mind, Hannibal’s affair with Alana.
Will is aware that it’s more than just a ploy of jealousy on Hannibal’s end. Hannibal may entertain several trains of thought, but with Will, it’s all towards one goal, cultivating the dark urges of the beast inside Will. And Will had had his moment, a primal desire to shred his friend to pieces when he scented the notes of bergamot and sandalwood that mixed with Alana’s perfume when she visited Will. All carefully laid evidence that Hannibal left for Will to know that they were fucking.
Alana: a single, well-respected Omega.
Alana, a fertile Omega, unmarked and unclaimed.
Will tells himself that his motivation is to save Alana, move her out of the crossfires of he and Hannibal’s inevitable becoming. But he stifles from thinking on it further with a swallow of two aspirin pills.
***
Will doesn’t plan to come groveling to Hannibal. If he’s going to fuck with him, sit on his lofty pedestal and manipulate everything and everyone to his whim, then Will will defy him. Make Hannibal have no choice but to chase him through the maze of his creation. Until Hannibal tires of all the other perfectly-playing pawns, the scenic subplots, and Will has the entirety of his attention again. And what better way to send the message than to play him at the same game?
The first Alpha that Will picks up is far too convenient. With his silver haired and barely disguised aggression, he could be Hannibal’s younger doppelgänger. After a round of drinks, the man, Nigel, even tells Will of his love for classical string music. When they tumble in bed, the wildness that Will could see in those dark eyes comes out full force. A gnashing of teeth, strong, searing grip of the limbs. Nigel’s actions all scream possessive; he is quick to claim, and Will has to bash his nose in when he catches Nigel, his sharp teeth hovering around Will’s nape, already to mark Will as his after their brutal bender of sex.
If Hannibal was at the threshold of the labyrinth’s entrance, intrigued by Will’s sudden change of appearance, his coiffed hair and tighter clothing that accentuates the curves of his body, he takes his first steps into the maze towards the pervasive stench of cigarette smoke on Will’s person. Will has never been a smoker, Hannibal knows this, and the way evidence of this interloper clings to Will’s skin drags Hannibal in deeper.
It doesn’t take long for Hannibal to track and snuff out the source. Nigel, for all his brute strength and youthfulness, isn’t nearly as cunning as Hannibal, and Hannibal followed his trail of ash like breadcrumbs. Hannibal’s tableau for him lacks the usual flashiness but is wrought with layers of meaning, a message only for Will to crack.
Nigel’s entire body had been burnt to a crisp, Zeller has observed, from the small specs of the Romanian he was able to collect from the pulverized dust. Nigel is nothing more than human particles, cycling through a tableaux of fans that shear these pieces even smaller with its numerous blades in an endless loop until they’re infinitesimally small like ash raining from a volcano set to erupt.
Jack looked askance at Will when he’d snorted, an instinctual reaction when he first walked in and saw the tableau.
The smell offends me, the message said to him.
And the following evening when Hannibal had invited Jack and Will over for dinner, Will had made sure to scrub himself clean and wear a nicer cologne to signal that the message had been received. If Will had any comments on the fact that Hannibal was serving them blackened goat lung that night, he said nothing. Just shared a private smile at Hannibal as he openly consumed the smoker’s lung to go with the ruse. Hannibal would never eat such spoiled meat were it not for Will. How well Will understands Hannibal, the lengths he will go to craft the perfect message, to play the perfect part in his alibi. Will savors this victory against Hannibal, gaze fixed and tracking how Hannibal’s eyes, wide and voracious, hone in on his throat as he, too, swallows Nigel’s flesh.
***
Hannibal and Will continue this dance around the byzantine corridors. He continues to see Alana, even though Will can tell he’s just stringing her along. Hannibal’s eyes don’t have that same sheen of interest as they do during their therapy sessions together, under the warm cozy firelight as Will teases him closer with his fantasies of murder. Sometimes, Will loses himself in his own guile, tangled up by the red string that connects he and Hannibal together as they circle around each other. Unsure of who is the bigger monster.
Will knows he has captured Hannibal’s attention, but they are still far too shallow inside. Hannibal is still positioned just well enough that he could easily escape, so in order to keep the monster contained from wreaking havoc on Baltimore’s populace, Will makes another sacrifice.
Where Nigel was a young and raucous Alpha, Duncan is older, quiet. He’s solitary like Will is and independent. Most importantly is the capacity for violence that Will sensed from the man when they’d met at the bar. If Duncan’s eye patch wasn’t a flagrant indicator for the type of life he led, the scars Will traced with his teeth as they made love would have clued him in. Duncan’s broad body is riddled with scars, some smooth and white, others serrated and bumpy. Fresh. Raw.
And despite the story of danger written on his body, Duncan is a gentle lover, blanketing Will’s back with his warm, heavy frame as he thrusts inside him. The dogs respect Duncan and acknowledge him as the new Alpha of their pack, and the easy connection that builds between Duncan and Will makes it simple to convince the older Alpha to move away with him to Montana where Duncan had mentioned having a cabin in a prior conversation.
A part of Will loves the way Duncan rubs his skin raw with his beard and mustache as they kiss, the way Duncan’s embrace provides a sense of comfort that Will was starved for since learning of Hannibal’s manipulations. It’s sincere and simple; it’s nothing like the way Hannibal treated him. Always speaking and acting cryptically, more concerned about what Will had to bring to the table than showing his own cards. Duncan is straight-forward and dependable, which Will regrets taking advantage of in his never-ending chess match with Hannibal.
But if Will is to draw Hannibal deep into his trap, Will needs to make Hannibal chase him.
***
Duncan is far more astute and realizes quickly when Hannibal has found his way to Montana. He lays a protective arm on his Omega, an imperceptible rumble in his chest to ward everyone away from he and Will when they are in public. Duncan may be quiet, but he is still a killer, and he has no problems of asserting himself if he or anyone he cares for is in danger. The fact that this persistent assailant has popped into their lives just as they moved doesn’t register to Duncan at all; as an assassin who successfully overthrew and killed his old employers, he was more than prepared for threats on his life, people seeking revenge for their fallen allies or wanting to fill the vacuum that Duncan left behind.
The thought that the threat could be coming from Will’s end of the relationship probably never struck his mind at all.
Nevertheless, both Will and Duncan must know that their short-lived affair could be coming to the end soon, that a confrontation is close on the horizon, because after another uneasy night of feeling Hannibal’s eyes stalking them for the past two weeks, they decide to take advantage of what time they have left.
Hands leave steaming prints on the cabin’s window pane for their voyeur to see as Duncan’s wide girth fucks into him brutally, Will’s body slamming over and over the table’s edge with each thrust. The Alpha’s low growls turn into roars as he drives into Will with quick snaps of the hips, the pace turning wild and unsteady as the tight heat of Will makes Duncan’s muscled buttocks flex as he comes inside his lover. Will knows that even now, in this private affair between he and Duncan, Hannibal is still watching, is unable to stop himself from watching, and the thought of the Alpha seeing him being taken by another makes Will pant harder. The prospect steals Will’s orgasm away from him, and with one jerk of the wrist, Will is spilling thick, white ropes of come on the window’s glass, obscuring their coupling from whatever vantage point Hannibal has found in the forest surrounding their cabin with his release.
When he and Duncan go to bed that night, with Duncan's comfortable bulk encapsulating him with his warmth, the older Alpha tentatively grazes his teeth on Will's neck. Asking.
It's far too soon to commit to a mating bond, Will has to convince himself, even with Duncan's seed leaking out of his hole in their bed. Even when Duncan has been nothing but the perfect Alpha for him, fulfilling the thrill of danger Will desires in a mate but in a way he feels protected, not always feeling the compulsion to be on the defensive. And yet, even still, Will shakes his head, tousling his curls of hair so that it covers his neck more fully, and Duncan, being the gentle, understanding Alpha that he is, relents, tugging Will tighter to him in his grasp, not even angry from Will's denial but content to have this connection with someone after a nomadic existence alone.
***
The life in Duncan's one good eye fades quickly as he bleeds to the death on the floor. His clothes are in tatters, and blood gushes from all the new orifices carved and created out of him. The fight against Hannibal was even, despite Hannibal having the advantage of all the intel on him. Duncan was that skilled of an assassin to be able to think quick on his feet when Hannibal ambushed him in the forest next to their cabin. By the time Will was able to catch up to the source of the noise, Duncan could only whimper, hand outstretched towards his Omega, towards Will, who collapsed to his side bleary-eyed as he succumbed slowly to his injuries.
Duncan's mouth wriggled around words that his crushed throat was unable to vocalize. The bullet that sped out the forest canopy and lodged through Duncan's brain snatched Will from his stupor. With tear tracks down his eyes, flaring with anger, Will waited for Hannibal. He listened for multiple, silent beats, only hearing the ambient sounds of their forest. Birds chirping, the rustling of the trees... He turned suddenly to the snap of a twig, far too salient to be anything but intentional, and met Hannibal's eyes, pupils swallowed dark, vibrating frenetically with a red limn.
"Hello, Will," Hannibal said, voice hoarse. He's covered in blood, left arm grasping his right, panting uncontrollably. The plastic suit he wore was shred through, his three piece suit underneath soaked in red, smearing on the underside. Clearly, he expected the fight against Duncan to be much smoother, if his concern was leaving evidence behind. But the unwavering focus Hannibal pegs Will with now shows that none of this matters to him, nothing is more important to Hannibal now than the Omega in front of him. The Omega who brought him here on this goose chase to Montana. The Omega who he has undeniably claimed as his own.
Will doesn't even bother to respond, anger violently erupting out of him in one pained howl as he tackles Hannibal to the ground. He claws into the bullet wound on Hannibal's left leg as they grapple in the dirt, incapacitating Hannibal enough to straddle him down with his weight. One hand surrounds Hannibal's throat, nails digging into the flesh as the other sends excruciating pain through Hannibal's lower stomach where it pinches another bullet wound that Duncan caused. The gun Hannibal used to finish Duncan off drops next to them, but Will keeps his searing grip on him.
The lack of oxygen turns Hannibal's face bright red, accentuating how dark the blood flowing from his hairline really is. He musters enough strength to slightly cant his neck, eyes flickering right to the gun at his side. "It will not bring him back," he says.
Will bores down harder on Hannibal's throat. Hannibal is more than capable of escaping his one handed grip, even with his injuries, yet he remains still, almost blissful as his eyelids flutter from his asphyxiation. Will carries out his punishment like a god, and he looks beautiful above Hannibal like this - feral eyes filled with conviction, bloodlust roiling from him in waves like the capillaries popping under his relenting grasp.
The serenity on Hannibal's face disgusts Will. He wants to kill Hannibal so bad, and yet, he knows Hannibal. He knows how even this would be considered a win in Hannibal's book. When it seems Hannibal is about to completely lose consciousness, Will finds his hand moving back, feeling Hannibal's body undulate under him as he catches his breath.
"If I kill you, you win. If I don't, you still win." Will chuckles mirthlessly.
"This is not a zero-sum game, Will."
"Isn't it?" Will spits. He reaches for the gun at their side and raises it to his temple. Hannibal blinks slowly, and his body goes frozen stiff. "Lives aren't a game, Hannibal." The cold handle of the gun trembles in Will's hand, he cocks the hammer.
In spite of Will's hysteria, Hannibal regains his calm, the two of them staring at one another in this silent standoff.
He quirks a smile. "Aren't they?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Will shouts. The calmness exuding from Hannibal only aggravates Will further, and he turns the aim of the gun to the square of Hannibal's forehead, which draws an amused chuckle from his mark.
The tone in Hannibal's voice grows dark, his slow delivery a playful lilt. "Nigel Banyai, Duncan Vizla. They were lives once too." Each name leaves his mouth with clinical dispassion. "Tell me, Will, why did you bring those men into the game?"
Hannibal's smile grows ever so wider as Will falters, scrambling to rationalize why he put these two men in danger, knowing full well what Hannibal was willing to do to get to him.
What specifically was it about them that was so important to Will's plan, to Will's design?
He spends a moment looking at Duncan's cooling corpse a few feet away. Even with the matted, dried blood, he can still make out his soft, silver hair; his one hazel eye has faded to a murky grey. Will looks away in grief, batting away the alarms from his subconscious but sees silver hair and hazel eyes boring into him when he looks down, right into the knowing glint in Hannibal's eyes. Will's breath hitches.
"Do you see, Will? We are the same." Jack, Alana, Nigel, Duncan. For all Will's loathing of Hannibal's manipulation, he's manipulated just as many lives as Hannibal has. And for what? Even with the gun cocked and the means to end it all, Will's finger hovers over the trigger.
Unexpected warmth slides up Will's thigh as Hannibal kneads at the muscle, making Will tense even more. "You wanted me to chase you," Hannibal murmurs softly, rubbing gently at the legs pinning him down. Will shakes and gasps as heat penetrates beneath him, Hannibal's length filling out slowly under the fabric of his pants, the slow glides of Hannibal's palms on his thighs turning into claws. "There is a way for both of us to win," Hannibal says, cinching Will tight at the thighs and pressing them together closer so that the shape of his hard cock is unmistakable.
"This isn't - that's not what I want," Will murmurs in a daze, unconvincing to the Alpha as he primly lifts himself up on his elbows, passing the gun directed at him and pressing his lips to Will. Will moans as the grip on his legs tighten, the friction of Hannibal's stubble a pleasurable chafe on his face as they slot together. "My dear cunning Will. You truly are the only Omega for me," Hannibal growls, nipping at Will's bottom lip. A sharp incisor presses hard, drawing blood which Hannibal licks up. Will moans as the tip of Hannibal's tongue invades him, circling the puncture wound and eagerly lapping up his blood. He jerks forward and captures Hannibal's own lip between his teeth, sucking in Hannibal's iron taste. Hannibal looks fondly when Will leans back, mouth a lurid red with his blood lining the waterline of his lips. Will is the most enchanting human being Hannibal has ever met, the most unpredictable, irresistible Omega that he knows.
He easily flips their positions over now, slamming Will to the ground and hovering over him. And when Hannibal looms over Will's neck, teeth dripping in his blood, Will bares his throat wide, eyes shut and averted as Hannibal bites deep, completing the circuit that Will hadn't realized was incomplete inside of him until now, until the rush of pleasant endorphins from their mating surges through him, cancelling out the pain as Hannibal continues to hold his teeth at his neck.
This zero-sum game between them is moot, now that the two players have fused together. Become this unstoppable unit with the power to author the change of so many lives.
And perhaps this was the only true way that Will could win, binding himself irrevocably to this man, leading him and them both deeper into the labyrinth, making sure that the monster that they represent never sees the light of day again.