Chapter Text
Hannibal had a problem. A big problem.
His teenage omega son was starting to attract attention. He had started smelling other people’s touch on Will. Innocent things, sure, a hand on the back, an arm brushing an elbow, nothing untowards, but the stench of other hormonal teenagers—of other alphas—made him see red.
Ever since Will was a child, Hannibal had been in utter awe of the perfect creature he’d created. His son had always been beautiful, with his thick brown curls and bright blue eyes. He was a cherubic child, drawing in every omega within a ten mile radius to awe and coo over him whenever they went out. Perhaps it was a bit boorish for it to bolster Hannibal’s ego so greatly, but he couldn’t help but stand just a bit taller, puffing his chest the slightest amount whenever anyone lavished praise on the marvel he had sired.
But since Will officially presented two years ago, the attention had gone from innocent oohing and aahing to salacious grins and hooded eyes, drooling after his perfect, beautiful boy. At 16, Will had gone from his little angel to a devilish pixie-like creature who seemed in equal measure to be fully aware of, yet totally oblivious to, the attention he garnered.
Surely, he must have noticed the stares following behind him whenever he escorted Hannibal to the opera, or caught the hungry glances that lingered over his waifish figure at Hannibal’s dinner parties. There was no way Will, with his impossibly observant nature, could have missed the tension he inspired in nearly every alpha (and even some betas) they encountered.
Up until now, though, it hadn’t gone much further than ogling and the occasionally too-forward comment. But Will was going into preheat. His smell was sweetening, his eyes growing brighter, and his cheeks flushing faster as his internal temperature started to rise by slow degrees, and Hannibal wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Hannibal had hosted a dinner party the night before, having made the arrangements prior to Will’s cycle beginning. The problem with young omegas, particularly males, was the general lack of a consistent cycle. His hormones would balance out as he got older, but until then, his heats were maddeningly sparse and inconsistent. This would only be his third heat, coming a mere four months after the last one, so there had truly been no planning around his cycle, and Hannibal was far too well-mannered to cancel on his guests on such short notice. Especially after his… extensive preparations.
One of his colleagues, Dr. Frederick Chilton, who had always stared after Will for just a little too long, clearly picked up on Will’s scent. Hannibal had watched Chilton’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare as he caught the scent before he turned to Hannibal with brows raised. “Does your son not use scent blockers?”
Hannibal barely restrained his growl. It was uncommonly rude to comment on another’s scent, particularly the scent of another alpha’s child; even if it weren’t a rather egregious faux pas, Hannibal would take extreme issue with the mere suggestion that his son dampen his heavenly scent behind a harsh chemical veil. Scent blockers had never entered Hannibal’s home, and they never would, not as long as Hannibal breathed.
“His scent is perfectly natural, Dr. Chilton,” Hannibal replied. “Is there an issue with an omega’s natural bodily functions?”
Chilton’s eyes widened, and he seemed to just catch himself from actually taking a step backwards with how fast he started to backpedal. “No! No, of course not!” he insisted. “It’s just a rather… distracting scent, no? If I didn’t know any better, I’d be tempted to believe you’d be serving him for dessert.”
“I’ll have to insist you refrain from speaking about my son that way, Frederick.”
“My apologies, of course, but if I may,” he said, shifting his gaze to eye Will’s profile. He didn’t lick his lips, but Hannibal didn’t need to see proof of his desire in order to scent it on him. “I should like to express an intention of courtship. An omega so fine as Will, I’m sure you would agree, deserves only the best.”
As if you were anywhere resembling ‘the best,’ Hannibal thought rather ungraciously. He wanted to let his hindbrain take over, wanted to rip Chilton’s throat out and devour him whole right here in full view of all his esteemed guests, felt an impossible desire to show everyone what he would do in the name of his son, of his omega.
He couldn’t understand Frederick’s utter lack of cowering before him like the simpering worm Hannibal knew him to be in the face of what he was sure was an exceptionally discernible rage. He took a steadying breath and plastered a smile on his face, though he knew it to be far from kind, all sharp teeth and hard edges.
“I’m sure Will would be quite flattered by your interest, but I’ll have to respectfully refuse your offer,” he said.
Chilton blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “I assure you, Dr. Lecter, I am a wholly traditional alpha, and would of course provide all the necessary—”
Hannibal held up a hand to stop his speech before he could work himself up. “That won’t be necessary, Frederick. I know what’s best for my son, and I’m afraid that isn’t you. If you’ll excuse me now, I must attend to the main course,” he said, pushing past Frederick into the kitchen.
Truly, there were no further preparations to be done. The small catering staff he’d hired to help him service the event already had everything plated to his exact specifications and was merely waiting for his cue to send the meal, but he needed a moment to compose himself in private before he did something rash like slaughter Dr. Chilton and every other guest who dared to so much as breathe the same air as his Will.
The sounds of conversation grew for a moment as the door to the kitchen pushed open behind him. He breathed deeply, forcing the tension out of his shoulders, before turning to chastise the intruder, only to be faced by his darling son.
“Alpha?” Will asked, wide-eyed and innocent concern written all over his face. “Is everything alright?”
Hannibal scented the air, allowing Will’s scent to envelop him, and he felt a genuine smile spread across his face. “Of course, my dear boy. Everything is just fine.”
“What did Dr. Chilton want?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” he assured him.
Will furrowed his brow; Hannibal never could get anything past his boy. “He seemed upset.”
“Just a simple difference of opinion,” Hannibal said. “It’s already forgotten.”
“Hmm, if you insist.” Will’s eyes passed over his shoulder to the plates spread over the island. “Do you need any help with that?”
Hannibal turned to the food, almost surprised by how thoroughly Will had distracted him in the few short moments since he’d walked in. “No, no, it’s all prepared. I’m sure the staff and I can handle everything just fine.”
“Okay,” Will said, pursing his lips. He didn’t seem convinced, but he knew better than to push the subject. He stepped forward, though, pushing into Hannibal’s space. “If you change your mind, I’m happy to help,” he said, before pressing along Hannibal’s front and wrapping his arms around his middle, tucking his head under Hannibal’s chin.
Hannibal’s breath froze in his chest. It took every ounce of self-control he had to restrain himself as the tantalizing scent of omega in pre-heat reached his nose. Biologically, there was no reason why his son’s scent should sing to him so strongly, but it was the perfect aroma: the potent spike of fresh clary sage, the rich and woody tone of sandalwood, brightened by the light, citric burst of orange that sat fragrant on Hannibal’s tongue. Perhaps it was narcissistic, but this was a scent that he had helped to create, and every burst of that alluring scent brought a heady rush of pride and self-satisfaction that he only ever got from all things relating to Will.
There was no feeling quite like it.
His arms came up to wrap around Will’s small frame, pressing his nose to Will’s curls and stealing a deep draw of his essence, savoring the taste of sweet, innocent omega. Nothing in the world compared to having Will pressed up against him, the long line of his body a warming pressure leaning into him as though trying to make a home inside his chest.
“I love you, Daddy,” Will whispered, using an endearment that he rarely used these days, having long since grown out of it, Dad, as he loved to remind his father. Hannibal couldn’t quite stop himself from stiffening. Will pulled back slightly to peer up at him. “Daddy?”
Hannibal had to bite his tongue to hold back the groan that wanted to escape. He knew his scent was spiking with arousal, could feel his cock stirring in his pants, and he clung tighter to Will, trying to use his grip to ground himself before he could get lost in the sensation. He smiled gently and shook his head, “I’m alright, sweet boy. I love you, too, Will.”
Will beamed at him and untangled himself, though his hands lingered for a moment too long on Hannibal’s waist. Surely, he must know what he did to Hannibal, the little minx, but it wasn’t exactly as though he could call out the behavior—not without admitting that it was working.
It’s just hormones, he reminded himself, he’s a teenager, in pre-heat, and you’re a virile, thoroughbred alpha. It’s perfectly natural. As the pre-heat continued to ramp up, it was harder to remain convinced of that fact.
“I’ll let the staff know you’re ready for dinner,” Will said. He was learning well from his father how to keep his emotions concealed, but he was far from a master, and Hannibal could see the ghost of a smirk spreading across his lips.
Now, of course, Hannibal had to compose himself for an entirely different reason than the rage he’d felt at Chilton. He smoothed his hands down his suit jacket, manually ironing out invisible wrinkles as though he could erase the lingering feeling of Will pressed against him. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory, before gathering the first of the plates as the staff trickled in to assist him in serving the main course.
Later, during the dessert course, he found himself accosted by a beta and another alpha, both asking after Will’s engagement status. Had Hannibal already picked an alpha for him? Were any of Will’s classmates expressing interest? What expectations did Hannibal have for a potential mate for his son?
He was ready to annihilate everyone in attendance by the end of the night.
No one was good enough for his Will. They were nothing, nothing but swine, desperate to brush against Will’s radiance in the hope it might bring some small dash of greatness to their worthless existences. They were all, every single one of them, beneath Will.
Now, in the present, Hannibal was still simmering with rage as he prepared dinner for himself and Will. He thought he managed to keep a decently good handle on it, until Will came to aid him in preparations and wrinkled his nose.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, darling,” Hannibal assured him, offering a mollifying smile, “Just having a bit of trouble with this reduction.”
Will squinted at him. “You’re having a cooking issue?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Really?”
Hannibal smiled tightly, nodding, “Yes, the ingredients are rather finicky.”
Will hummed. “You’re sure it has nothing to do with all the ‘offers for my hand’ you received last night?” he asked, performing air quotes with a look of disdain.
“And how, pray tell, do you know about that?” he replied with a playful tone.
“I’m not blind,” Will said, rolling his eyes. “I saw the way your friends were ogling me. I saw how angry you were. What else could that have been about?”
Hannibal laughed, “You’ll be the death of me, you absolute terror.” Will gave him a private little smile and stole an olive off one of the plates Hannibal had begun preparing. He sighed, “What ever will I do with you?”
The look Will gave him as he backed away, seemingly floating out of the kitchen, was downright scandalous. “Maybe you’ll have to punish me,” he teased, and then he was gone.
Combined with the moment they shared last night, Hannibal was rapidly becoming sure his son was determined to stain his kitchen permanently with the stench of aroused alpha. He has to know, Hannibal thought, before shaking it off. His morals were scrupulous, no doubt, but he was no rapist, and he knew better than to assume a hormonal teenager—his son, no less—was “asking for it.” Much as he knew there was no one on earth deserving of his boy, his omega, aside from perhaps Hannibal himself, he would not, could not take action, based on subtle hints (arguably flirting) alone.
No, in the absence of definite confirmation, Hannibal would endure Will’s persistent torment, even if it led to many frustrated nights alone in his bed.
He sighed and quickly finished up meal preparations, plating their dinner.
***
Will had always been a little… different.
He knew the thoughts he’d had for, well, years now weren’t normal. He didn’t have the same dreams his classmates had, couldn’t really join in the locker room talk, and he had no interest in fooling around under the bleachers or in back corners of dark movie theaters.
No, Will spent his first heat wishing his dad would break down his fucking door and help him through it.
Even in the throes of heat, he knew it was wrong, but it wasn’t hard to move past, not with how hard he came with three fingers stuffed inside him, picturing his father’s hand between his legs instead. Just another way he was different from everyone else.
It wasn’t like it was entirely unheard of—for children to be attracted to their alpha or omega parents. The pheromones were, at least on some level, compatible enough. Sure, most people instinctively recognized the difference between mate and parent, but the instincts didn’t always kick in. For most people, for people like Will, for whom parental recognition didn’t kick in when it came to pheromones, the social taboo was enough to dissuade the attraction. Not Will, though. Will’s mother died in childbirth and he was raised by a cannibalistic serial killer. Social taboos weren’t really a consideration for him.
So when the first hints of his third heat started making themselves known, he was determined to do something about it.
His father’s hosting of a dinner party was exactly the impetus he needed to set his plans in motion. He had seen the looks his father’s colleague, Dr. Chilton, would often send his way over the last few years. He knew the man was interested. It hadn’t been hard to guess what upset Hannibal so much during their conversation when he stalked off to the kitchen.
Will had grinned to himself, proud of his own deviousness, as he followed his dad into the kitchen. He called him alpha, stole a hug, called him daddy, knowing in his bones how deeply the submissive words affected him. His father was an intrinsically composed man, though, who was able to rein in even his most primal instincts the vast majority of the time. Will had only seen him truly lose control a handful of times.
He was hungry to see it again. More than anything, he wanted to be the cause of it.
Taunting him the next night with thoughts of punishment was only the logical follow-up in this delicate seduction. Will knew what he was doing, had seen these dances before in every social caste, from football games to opera houses, high school parties to charity galas. It wasn’t hard to adopt them for his own.
Of course, the utter lack of subtlety in his machinations would make his plans all the more apparent to Hannibal, but if it got the results Will wanted, he didn’t particularly care. Hell, maybe if his daddy cottoned on to what he was doing, he really would punish Will in some way. He wouldn’t exactly object to a thorough spanking.
He methodically set the dinner table for two, being sure to set out all the finest china and pick out a bottle of wine that he felt would pair nicely with what he’d smelled in the kitchen. Maybe if he was lucky, his dad would even afford him a glass.
Hannibal stepped into the dining room bearing the salad course, setting the plates down at their standard place settings. Will took his seat with a coy smile, laying his napkin in his lap. He kept his smirk carefully tucked away when his dad did, in fact, pour a second glass of wine.
He took a bite of the salad, chewing thoughtfully, before taking a small sip of his wine. He let out an exaggerated moan that he knew his father would clock immediately as performative and said, “This is delightful.”
“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal replied before taking his own first bite.
They ate the rest of the course making idle small talk, Hannibal asking after Will’s coursework and Will asking after Hannibal’s practice. It was all very… pleasant. Almost domestic. Will couldn’t quite hold back the air of contentment he knew his scent radiated at the thought of playing house with his alph— with his father.
Hannibal cleared their plates hastily and brought out the main course: a perfectly cooked filet that Will knew had been harvested from a rather indiscreet cow they’d encountered at the deli some time ago.
“The red wine reduction seems to have come along quite nicely,” he commented.
“Yes,” Hannibal said, “I managed to take it in hand, despite all its best efforts to act out.” The crooked grin he gave Will said all it needed to—he knew what Will was doing, but he didn’t necessarily want it to stop.
“I think you like asserting your dominance over your…” he paused, slicing up another bite of steak and holding it in front of his face, “recipes.” He took the bite between his teeth, allowing the fork to linger longer than was strictly necessary.
He very specifically pretended not to notice the way his father’s eyes honed in on his mouth. Luckily, his father also pretended not to notice the spike of arousal in Will’s scent. Will was far too insightful not to pick up on the tension between them.
“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal said, clearly changing the subject, “what would you have done if I had been so inclined as to accept the advances of your would-be suitors?”
Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, carefully placing his utensils on his plate, “I would have ripped their fucking throats out. If you’ll pardon my language.”
Hannibal narrowed his eyes, but didn’t comment on the swearing. “Because you’re not interested in a courtship?”
Will risked seeming uncivilized and blatantly rolled his eyes. “I would be interested in a courtship, provided I had a worthy suitor.”
“Oh?” Hannibal asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you consider worthy, dear boy?”
He had to hold back a shiver at the endearment, as always. His dad had to know what effect that had on him. Will’s own attraction, he knew, wasn’t entirely uncommon, but the idea his father might return the attraction would be severely out of the ordinary. There had been studies done—exhaustive ones—looking into the effects of heat and rut pheromones in parent and child dynamics. Children might show a physiological response to their parent’s scent, but it was a complete statistical anomaly to find a parent who was similarly affected. It simply didn’t happen.
The way his father looked at him, though… Will could almost believe his attraction was reciprocated, but if that was the case, he certainly wasn’t making this an easy chase. He wished his father, his alpha for the entirety of his life, from birth until now, would chase him.
Will took another sip of his wine before answering. “For an alpha to be worthy,” he started, “he’d have to earn it. There’s a very high bar that’s been set.” He gave his dad a heavy look, full of all the things he wasn’t supposed to say. “He would have to be able to protect me, provide for me. He would have to be willing to kill for me.”
He could scent the sharpening of his father’s scent, could see the dilation of his pupils as he hung on every word out of his mouth. Hannibal chewed slowly, allowing the words to hang heavy in the air between them. When he spoke, his voice was low and Will could detect layers of desire just beneath his tone, “Who set this high bar?”
Will swallowed and felt a stirring low in his gut, the first hints of slick starting to leak from his hungry hole. He noted the subtle flare of his father’s nostrils, all but confirming he was fully aware of the state Will was currently in, and peered up at Hannibal through his lashes, knowing exactly the air he was putting off. It took a good deal of self control to maintain the air of innocence when the scent of his arousal was slowly seeping into the air as he answered, “You did, Alpha.”
A low growl rumbled from Hannibal’s chest. Will didn’t even try to suppress how pleased with himself he was when he saw the way Hannibal’s jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “Is that so?” he asked in a deep purr, warming Will from his toes to the tips of his ears.
He hummed. “You’ve always been such a good alpha.” He turned his attention back to his meal, as though he couldn’t quite meet his dad’s eyes for this confession of infatuation. “You take such good care of me. I don’t know how anyone else could ever live up to your example,” he paused, peering out of the corner of his eye, and just before he took a bite, added, “Daddy.”
Hannibal stood from the table abruptly as the overwhelming aroma of alpha arousal rolled over Will like a tidal wave, crashing into him and washing away thoughts of anything else. He would swear he’d never been this wet before, not even in the throes of proper heat. He wanted to be thrown across the table and mounted. He wanted to spread himself out and present. Fuck. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his legs together, trying to relieve some of the aching emptiness he felt growing inside him.
“Clear the table when you’re done, please,” his dad said before turning and striding out of the room. If Will wasn’t trying so hard for precisely this effect, he’d be concerned at the sudden coldness. As it was, he had a feeling he knew what his father, his alpha, was going to do.
Will took another bite of his dinner, smiling down at his plate.