.

.

Missing a dose of suppression tablets is the equivalent of tossing himself off a bluff's edge, Will thinks. The plunge will come, and so will the violence.

It's inevitable.

"They're still getting the scene ready for us," Jack informs Will, impatiently wrapping his arms to his chest and tapping his index finger to his forearm. "Local law enforcement has cleared and shut down South Howard Street and South Sharp, to avoid anymore possible civilian interference."

Jack's eyes narrow, as his head turns in Will's direction. His nostrils flare briefly.

Within the scent of carnage and blood — all of it that hangs bloated in the air — Will already knows older, experienced Alphas like Jack can pinpoint his newly flourishing heat pheromones.

"… Should I be worried?"

To be honest, Will's not sure. At some point in the next half an hour, he's gonna consider lay down on the rain-soaked grass and holding his gut until the hellish cramping ends. Maybe sneak a few painkillers into his system before it worsens accompanied by the slow-stewing, frequented nausea.

He adjusts his glasses and grumbles at first, pushing up the nose-piece.

When Jack continues aiming his pointed stare at Will's profile, the other man twists up his expression a little, as if annoyed.

"If you need me to go, Jack," he mutters. "I can do that."

The muscles in Jack's shoulders tense up. "No — I need you here. On this case." Will clenches up his jaw, feeling the onset of his heat's symptoms flickering brighter. A monstrous and debilitating form of incandescence morphing and shifting under his skin. "But are you here, Will?"

Will gives a low, thoughtful noise, rubbing his fingertips over an eyelid.

"Remarkably."

Exasperation and reluctance creeps into Jack's tone. "Let's just find the killer," he whispers, marching over to the ring of police officers gesturing to each other and frowning, barking out for their attention.

With Jack out of his view, Will can still feel a rush of obvious attention and scrutiny on him. Mixed emotions. Some of it is sexually charged due to his heat, and others isn't. He's used to it both as a male Omega, but also for his reputation in the FBI as an high-profile empath and a temporary badge-holder.

Another round of cramping seizes Will.

He groans lightly and winces, placing a hand to his abdomen.

"You lost?" comes an unfamiliar, deep voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Will spots a glimpse of dark uniform and a police hat. A rookie. "Hooo, shit—boy, you're ripe as daisies, aren't you?"

Will's breathing tightens. It's glee permeating his voice. It's desire.

He leans away to the right, going on instinct, and avoids eye contact as the police officer leers and steps closer, eyeing Will up and down. "I think it's best if you return to your superior, officer… before this gets out of hand," Will tells him, calmly and without raising his voice. There's no need for a scene.

A bolt of shock and disgust hits Will's spine when he feels a lone finger trailing up his back.

"C'mon, hey, don't be like that. It's just us now." The police officer dares to use the same finger to press hard between Will's buttocks. "Let me show you a good time on this cock, sweetheart—"

Instinct overtake Will, no longer containable or calm. He whips around quickly and swings a fist, crashing it backwards into the officer's front teeth and his lips. The other man staggers away, half-collapsing, whining out in terror and pain. Blood pours down his chin.

Will grabs him by his uniform, throwing the officer down onto the grass and preparing to lunge on him. To rip him open and… …

Before the thought manifests fully, Will feels multiple arms restraining him, yanking him away. Zeller and two other officers hold onto Will's body, and even though they're Betas, he's not giving up escaping.

There's screams of "Will!" from Beverly in the distance and Jack roaring at him to stop. Hands attempting to push him down, and it feels like entrapment. Will thrashes and struggles, gasping out for air, against the combined strength of four different men pressing him onto the ground, face-first.

Humiliation burns every fiber-end.

.

.

The paramedics retreat from their van, under Jack's orders. Will sits himself on the strapped-in gurney, no longer yelling at the top of his lungs and snarling, and ices his busted, purpling knuckles.

"Dr. Lecter," he murmurs, without glancing up.

Hannibal offers him a polite, little smile from outside the ambulance's doors. "Hello, Will."

"I assume Jack called you."

"Yes, he did," Hannibal says without any particular sentiment behind it. The familiarity of Hannibal's scent — garlic cloves, rosemary, pencil shavings — warms his core, instead of agitates him. Will's mouth quirks. An Alpha comforting him? Unreal. "He's very worried about you. You assault an officer."

Will snorts, finally looking him in the eye. "I assaulted a rapist. There's a difference."

At that moment, he cringes, dropping the ice-pack and bending in. Another longer, ugly cramp slams into him, gushing a little more of slick between Will's already wet, quivering thighs. Fuck. This isn't good.

Hannibal's expression fades into semi-concern.

"Are you alright, Will?"

"I need…" He pauses for the right phrasing, licking his lips and shaking his head. Will's heart thunders in his chest. "Relief," Will admits softly, croaking out. "Or something akin to it."

The seat of Will's trousers and underwear already coated and ruined by the fluid, sticking a little to the gurney's fabric blanket. He's sure without the super-heightened senses Hannibal has confessed to living with, his psychiatrist could smell an intensifying Omega heat from where he is.

"Perhaps I should take you home…"

"Or take me here. I'm not fussy about it," Will speaks up offhandedly, not breaking eye-contact this time. It's the phantom of a boyish, playful smile lingering to Will's lips. He's not even sure he means it.

Maybe it's his imagination… nope, Hannibal definitely just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you propositioning me, Will?"

Color and flush drift over the pale nature of Will's features. It's not just his thighs quivering anymore.

"Are you a willing and able body, Dr. Lecter?" he fires back, softer than before. The mocking intent feels swollen and hot on Will's tongue. He wants, wants, but he doesn't.

Hannibal grants him an amused, smiling look and peels off his overcoat, climbing into the ambulance.

.

.


NBC Hannibal isn't mine. So after bingeing all seasons, I really wanted to write for Hannigram again, and rediscovered the hannibalkink meme! I got intrigued by "Hannibal/Will- A/B/O, heats are more like periods" asking for Omegas to be more aggressive and less mega horny and/or submissive, and I kinda loved it? I think it went pretty okay, and I hope you enjoyed reading too! :) Please leave some comments/thoughts! Say hi if you are a big fan of Hannigram too!