He needed an alibi.

As Hannibal sat across from Franklyn Froideveaux who was still spouting useless information like a garden hose, he knew it was going to be difficult to murder him without one. The man was unfortunately very sociable. Often seen at parties and events around the city, his absence was going to be noticed quickly.

He had mentioned going to the opera that very night with his friend Tobias, which was when Hannibal was planning on spilling all that tasteless blood. A little twist on 'dinner and a show,' to be precise.

To cover his tracks he needed to be in the company of someone until dawn. The easiest would be to simply seduce them and use drugs to manipulate them as needed, which he was wholly prepared to do.

Another unfortunate technicality: that someone could not be Will Graham.

Hannibal Lecter was many things, murderer included, but he was not about to use the Omega for his own personal gain. He wanted to take things slow and from the little he knew about him he was sure that anything faster was going to result in tragedy. That much was blatantly apparent. The feelings that unfurled in his chest at the image of Will's hurt expression the last time he was in this very office made him shift in his seat. Something dark and haunted lay behind those blue eyes and the darkness within his soul reached out to touch it, sensing a mutual connection. Some things just couldn't be rushed.

A particular Beta at the Agency had shown interest in him once or twice, and she would serve well for the one thing that needed to be rushed tonight. Being young and naïve, winning over her affections was going to be a task both easy and unexciting but called for only a few ingredients. He would need champagne, for example, although namely for himself as he knew his little scapegoat preferred beer.

"Not to say I'm against it you understand, I mean, I've tried things, experimented, of course-"

A resounding banging at the office door interrupted Franklyn's blushing confessions and they both looked toward it.

"B-but our hour isn't up for another fifteen minutes!" he sputtered as though his doctor had planned the intrusion.

"I assure you Franklyn, I had no intention of cutting our session short. Excuse me a moment," Hannibal pacified as he stood and walked to the door. He could practically hear the tears welling in the Beta's eyes. Even if he hadn't planned on it, he was glad of the interruption; the man was going to be dead before sunrise but he couldn't wait to kill him.

The Alpha took his time walking across the room, buttoning the soft panels of his jacket and adjusting his cufflinks. Even in the wake of an impatient caller he hurried for no one but himself and from the thick, anxious scent drifting through the wood he knew Jack Crawford was on the other side. This only made him delay even more. He so enjoyed letting that man suffer.

The door was finally opened but the good doctor barred the way of the entrance with one arm on the doorframe, his body language easily stating that while the door was indeed open the intrusion was less than ideal. After all, professionalism must be kept up and he was still in session with a client.

"Jack. I'm surprised to see you," he stated coolly. "I thought I had informed you of my schedule for this week."

He was met with a blast of sour unease. The other Alpha looked hastily put together; his tie was crooked and slightly undone, one straining button held his suit jacket together (in the wrong slot), and his usual holier-than-thou expression was replaced by something Hannibal couldn't quite place. Strange. The strong scent of men's soap and cologne hung about him as well, as if he had spent an hour in the shower and just as long afterwards alone with a bottle of Avon Musk.

What had happened?

"You're with a client…? I thought you didn't start your sessions until ten," Crawford said confusedly.

"It's almost eleven, Jack."

Dark eyes widened for a moment before he reclaimed himself.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I just wanted to…well, I stopped by Will Graham's house last night and…are you alright, doctor?"

Hannibal's formality had dropped and shattered like a wine glass at the mention of the Omega. The result was a protesting crack from the door where he was subtly turning the knob as far as it would go and then some, paired with a suppressed snarl and lethal expression.

The very idea of someone else being with Will in his house, let alone another Alpha, and then Jack Crawford, was enough to making him want to loosen the brass a little more. As in rip it off completely, along with the offending Alpha's face. Reigning in his possessiveness was akin to trying to put out a bonfire with his bare hands but he managed some semblance of civility with his response.

"What were you doing at Will Graham's house?"

The question was little more than a growl.

"I called him to a crime scene and he didn't answer his phone," Jack replied, and then added awkwardly, "He's in heat-"

Hannibal focused his energy and stepped backwards into the room under the presumption of addressing his client. In actuality, if he hadn't backed up to get Jack's anxious scent away from him he was quite sure he would have become violent.

Keeping his eyes trained on the man, he projected, "Franklyn, forgive me but we shall have to continue our session as planned next week. If you could please exit the room, Special Agent Crawford and I would be much obliged."

His lilting accent covered his hostility well.

The sounds of Froideveaux sliding his chair on the hardwood matched his scuffling footfalls as he moved to the client's exit.

"I understand completely," the Beta simpered as he left, looking around Hannibal's rigid body at the visitor. It was a complete 360 from his previous statement but then again, fawning around those more powerful than him was second nature. "I'm more than happy to accommodate our fine defense force. There is no greater therapist than Dr. Lecter, Special Agent, I can attest!" he called, even giving a little wave.

He hadn't the sense to notice that neither were giving him much attention; in Hannibal's case, none at all.

Jack glanced his way and gave a tight-lipped nod, seeing his plump image for only a moment before it disappeared out of a separate door.

Hannibal backed up further, allowing for Crawford to enter the office. As the door closed them in all he could picture was the male sprawled on a bed he had never seen, in a house that he had never been inside, with his Omega, who was in heat. Hot anger soaked through like an acidic balm.

"In heat?" he repeated, pinning Jack with his gaze. The other Alpha visibly flinched.

"Yes. I had called to ask him to come to a crime scene and he didn't pick up. After a couple of hours of nothing I followed a hunch and drove to his house."

Hannibal could feel his blood pressure rise with every word.

"I found him on the floor of his bathroom, having some kind of seizure. I thought as his therapist you should know, as I don't think he would have told you himself."

This caught his attention. Will was having seizures? There were only a handful of things that could possibly be, and none of them were good.

His next instinct was to slice Jack's throat just to get him out of the picture but he resisted the impulse. Information was needed first, and it really would do nothing for the hardwood.

"What state is he in, Jack?"

It was a loaded question and the other Alpha knew it. He met the doctor's gaze squarely.

"The fit ended and I carried him to his bed. Nothing more than that happened, Hannibal. I swear it, even if..."

A whisper of a warning growl sounded from Hannibal's throat.

"I-I swore to Bella too, when I came home. I could never do that to her," Jack finished hurriedly, and then sighed deeply as if ridding himself of the idea. "The heat pains were taking him but he said he had what he needed to get through it. I…believed him."

Through narrowed eyes, Hannibal saw a man telling the truth. If he had violated Will in any way, the guilt of it would be all over his face like a bad nosebleed. He could scrub the clinging scent of heat from his skin, but there were no loofas or pumice stones for emotions. Also from what he was saying, the Omega was in no immediate danger. Heats were uncomfortable, to be sure, but in no way life threatening.

The seizures could have been from anything and worth investigating, of course, and would be in time. However Hannibal doubted Will would appreciate another Alpha invading his space while he was in such a vulnerable condition, especially one that had tried to feel him up the last time they were together. His guts gave a guilty twinge.

Giving Jack a curt nod with the promise to call on Will, he dismissed the man from his office under shadowed eyes.

His preferred method of making him disappear was, of course, to fillet him like a trout and serve him for dinner, but he had to be content with merely a few spoken words. When the door snapped shut he pivoted and resisted the urge to pursue him like a predator. Rationality held him back.

Nothing good would come of murdering Jack Crawford, at least not yet.

Despite his Alpha side screaming at him to leave immediately and go to his Omega, he wanted to respect the man's boundaries. He would call instead, claiming Jack was responsible for the contact. Perhaps his offering of a home-cooked meal would be more receptive over the safety of a phone line.

He would also get to hear Will's voice…

A shudder ran through him at the thought of what he smelled like in heat. Ice and pine, cold but flushed. What would he feel like…?

Swallowing the covetous growl rising in his chest, Hannibal composed himself and moved to his office desk. For now, there was a particular Beta whose murder/dinner needed planning, and Alana Bloom's business card was waiting in the top drawer.

XXX

Will felt himself get shoved against the familiar wall of bookcases again but didn't feel the blunt edges of the shelves. His Alpha's mouth was on his neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin right below his ear while those olive-toned hands gripped his hips possessively. Those sensations were the ones he wanted to focus on, as well as the amazing scent that filled his nose and scrambled his brains like eggs but that was fine.

Hannibal was all that mattered.

Pulsing heat washed through the Omega's body at the points where the male's teeth and fingers sank into his flesh, making his already rock hard cock twitch for attention behind his belt. He wanted more, needed more. This delicious connection was a mere precursor to what was inevitably going to happen, probably right over there in one of those office chairs. Or on the desk. Fuck, even the staircase was fair game.

But first he wanted Hannibal to bite him.

Not just the teasing love bites that he was currently receiving although those were amazing on their own, sending shoots of electric pleasure down to the very tips of his toes, but a mark. A fucking blinking neon sign for all to see that said I AM HIS. He wanted Hannibal's teeth buried in the curve where his neck and shoulder met, wanted to feel the warm trails of blood as they coursed down his chest. The desire made him tilt his head to the side and utter a desperate keening whimper, anything to encourage it.

A husky laugh sounded close to his ear.

"Tell me what you want, Will."

The accented voice alone almost made him come in his pants. He couldn't focus on wrapping his mind around a rational reply even though the answer was straining to be let out.

A warm wetness told him that Hannibal had gotten his tongue involved and Will barked a curse in response. Realizing he had been bracing himself against the shelves, he relinquished his hold and buried one hand in the Alpha's hair and clutched his waist with the other as if the man were a life raft. Closer, closer. He was going to break if they stayed apart any longer –

Hannibal rolled his hips into Will's with a deliberate slowness that made both of them groan. Will shuddered and arched desperately into the friction, feeling slick coat the insides of his thighs in a warm rush. The exquisite pressure made his throbbing erection weep behind his pants and threaten to get the job done itself if he wasn't careful.

His Alpha's face appeared before him, looking downright bloodthirsty. Those knowing eyes were hooded with lust and he was panting.

"Tell me what you want, Will," he repeated, the statement slipping into a growl, "and I will give it to you."

Without waiting for a response or breaking eye contact he applied more pressure with his hips, leaning into the Omega's shaking body and beginning a slow rhythm. Push, retreat, push, retreat. Like that was going to loosen his tongue; with every grind Will lost more of his ability to reason and Hannibal's scent was not helping things. It swirled in his head, making him want to lose it entirely and start begging for the Alpha to bite. Didn't he realize how agonizing this was?

"Please," he managed through gritted teeth while suppressing the urge to roll his eyes and throw his head back. He had never been this hard in his life, or this fucking desperate. He stared back unblinkingly at his Alpha, hoping his gaze would tell him all he needed to know.

When a second passed without action, a frustrated whine escaped Will's throat and that was all Hannibal needed. Without warning he bared fangs that hadn't been there before and struck hard.

Will awoke on his stomach, grinding his erection into the mattress as he orgasmed into the sheets. Pulsing pleasure rolled in waves as images from the fever dream flashed in his brain like a strobe light. He could still feel Hannibal's lips and tongue on his neck, hot and warm, and the phantom sensations just made him come harder.

Half delirious, he rode the waves of feverish release for what seemed like hours until his body finally collapsed.

The descent back to relative normalcy was painful. Both the physical and mental sort wracked him; muscles that had been seizing and flexing during the long hours of the night were stiff and his skin prickled as though he had fallen into a nettle pit. Not to mention his insides which were still squirming unpleasantly. He could deal with all that, though.

It was the aching hole in his chest that was opening in response to the fading dream. As if realizing his Alpha wasn't actually present, pain started up a revolt behind his ribs. With each breath taken without Hannibal, it grew. The miles between them felt like fathomless oceans, digging a spike into his heart that felt like the real thing.

It felt like falling.

Thoroughly exhausted and willing to let sleep claim him again despite the sunlight that was cheerfully streaming in through the bedroom windows, he rethought that plan.

One whiff of himself suggested that the orgasm he was still coming down from hadn't been the only one of the evening; his sheets were so saturated with sweat and slick and fluids that he could have wrung them out with impressive results. His cold sweet scent hung thick over everything, heavy and humid like the hours before a summer storm.

A shower was probably in order, that and laundry. Thank you extra strength Tide.

Twenty minutes later and he was standing in his tub under a freezing spray, relishing the feel of the icy water pummeling his hot skin. He would have gone sooner but the heat and fever had stolen much of his energy and merely walking across the bedroom floor had been draining.

Another twenty more were spent actually washing and drying as his achy muscles and joints protested every step of the way, but feeling clean was worth it. By the time he was finally done he was ready to surrender to his bed once again, and to the cold hole in his chest. This pleasant reprieve from the grips of the fever wasn't going to last for much longer; already he could feel it creeping back into his bones, a warmth that no AC or cold showers could touch, and his emotional state could definitely use a coffee break.

His body had other plans for him, however. As soon as he stepped foot out of the washroom, a familiar smell registered in his head, like someone had clunked a quarter into his Pac-Man machine and was ready to start noshing some fucking cherries.

HANNIBAL -!

With a strangled cry he lurched in the direction of his Alpha, not caring who or what was in the way or that he was still completely naked. His head was still smothered with fever and his vision was blurred but he didn't give a shit; Hannibal's scent called to him, an irresistible beacon that had to be answered.

The smell of home and sex and comfort led him to the entranceway of his house. His dogs were piled in the den, curious but only partially interested in what he was doing. Their eyes followed him as he knelt by the door.

Hannibal's scarf was bunched under a wooden chair, nearly hidden. The scent that drifted from it was loud in Will's head and drew him as if it were beeping. Grasping it, he pressed the soft fabric to his face and groaned. The scent of his Alpha was faint but spurred him on like a goddamned sports stadium full of fans and he was instantly hard again. Ready for round…ten? Fifteen?

An impatient snarl ripped out of him. Hannibal wasn't here. Probably didn't even want him anymore after the last time they had parted company, and the idea was both tragic and numbing. It made the open wound in his chest sink deeper, choking his breath.

That didn't mean he got to take the scarf back, though.

Gripping it in his fist, Will clenched his teeth as a fresh round of heat surged through him, ending in a painful crescendo that made him gasp. This just wasn't fair, it just wasn't fucking –

The sound of his cell phone ringing made him jerk his head around. It was coming from his jacket which was hung up on the rungs beside the door. The rational side of his brain told him that it was probably just Jack calling to check up on him, but the side ravaged by heat and torn to shreds by the idea that Hannibal didn't want him screamed with pathetic certainty that it was the Alpha.

He reached for it only to prove to himself that it wasn't Hannibal. He could take care of himself, he had done it before and he would do it again. Nothing had changed.

Except for the fact that you've bonded with an Alpha who won't service you, he said to himself. Shoving the thought aside with a pang, he pulled up the blank screen and hit the home button. The call was coming from a number he didn't recognize and hope rose so violently within him that he staggered against the wall. Jesus, just because it might be a spam caller was no reason to jump to conclusions.

He hurriedly accepted it and held it to his ear.

"H-hello?"

"Will."

The single syllable made his breath leave him in a rush and his knees took an abrupt time out. It was Hannibal. He had called, something Will hadn't really believed would happen and he had said his name with what sounded a lot like…relief? Tears sprang to his eyes and he choked on trying to get his reply out too quickly.

"Hannibal," he uttered, unable to keep the desperation and need out of his voice. "I-I…"

"Are you alright? Will? Is something wrong ?"

The concern in Hannibal's voice made Will lightheaded.

"No, I'm fine. I'm…fine," he replied, and heard a sharp exhale on the other line as if the Alpha had been holding his breath. "I'm just glad you called."