
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11754771.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hannibal_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Will_Graham/Hannibal_Lecter
  Character:
      Will_Graham, Chiyoh_(Hannibal), Hannibal_Lecter
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha_Will, Omega_Hannibal, Pederasty, Power
      Imbalance, Ritual_Sex, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Heat_Torture, Bondage,
      Blood_Magic, Blood_Drinking, Sex_Magic, Alternate_Universe_-_Greek
      Mythology
  Collections:
      Bottom_Hannibal_Day_2017, #SummertimeSlick
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-09 Completed: 2017-08-13 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 3877
****** Adamantine and Unyielding ******
by shiphitsthefan
Summary
     The boy laughs, and pulls another strip of meat from a bag at his
     side. He wraps it around a cloth ball, then throws it as far as he
     can into the woods, the Cerberus bounding after it.
     A human playing fetch with the great dog. Curious, indeed.
     “He likes you,” Will says, calling out from the trees. The boy
     doesn’t startle, merely turns his head, and oh, how Will wants. High
     cheekbones; a prominent jaw; eyes that rival Midas' gold. “What is
     your name, boy?”
     “Perhaps I am Faust,” he replies, a small smile playing across his
     face, sharp fangs within his mouth. “Assuming you are Mephistopheles,
     that is.”
     ***
     Will has acted as Hades for hundreds of years, but never once has he
     claimed a Persephone of his own. Hannibal, however, may prove to be a
     fruit impossible not to taste.
Notes
     This was originally a series of ficlets for #SummertimeSlick, but I
     decided to make it do double duty for #BottomHannibalDay. The title
     comes from a description of Hades in the Iliad. I used the prompt
     "role reversal" from the #SummertimeSlick calendar.
     One last note: Devereauxs_Disease and I managed to have similar
     ideas, but she told me to take on the fic. Many thanks to her! <3
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
In the hundreds of years Will has spent as acting Hades, this is the first day
that Cerberus has refused his call. It’s discomfiting, primarily because
Cerberus listening to him is the only reason Will was appointed to begin with.
But Will’s unease passes quickly; there isn’t exactly a higher-up to demote him
anymore.
He whistles again, and then a third time. Sighing, Will swings his legs from
over the arm of his throne and stands up, trying to remember the last time he
actually left the palace and went surface-side. It’s been long enough for him
to have forgotten the name of the last Persephonic pledge he walked back to the
river’s shore. Molly, he thinks. Or was it Alana? Matthew?
Chiyoh will know, he’s sure, assuming Chiyoh is still guarding her boat and
hasn’t simply grown bored and ferried herself on down the Styx.
The Diamond Gate stands unguarded, but that isn’t all that surprising these
days. There isn’t really anything  to  guard, what with the Old Ways dying out.
All the souls flow down different streams; the ones in Will’s care have faded
to whispers and blown away, with none to replace them. He would feel a failed
alpha, were dynamics not all but forgotten, too. Only the cultists seemed to
keep up with the rites.
“He’s not here,” says Chiyoh.
Will smiles. “Beaten anyone with an oar recently?”
“You asked me that thirty-eight years ago.”
“That would be a no, then?” Will feels the heat of her eyes on the side of his
face. “Did you see which way Winbusmax went?”
Chiyoh’s eyes smolder blue. “I’m not the Cerberus’ keeper, nor have I ever
been. The souls were my only charges.”
“Not the tributes?”
She blinks; the smoke is suffocating. “Those were yours.”
“Hey,” begins Will, “who was the last one, anyway? I can’t remember.” Chiyoh
only shrugs. “Really doesn’t matter. They all knew better than to dine with
me.”
“The antlers are somewhat off-putting.”
“Good talk,” he says, then strolls on across the river before she can do more
than singe his stubble.
The marshlands are the same, a strange grey-green where the five rivers meet.
Will wonders if the Nightmares still walk, or if they have faded like the rest.
Then again, the suicides are still bound to the trees, mouths open and heads
drooping. Their dynamics have faded; all that remains is the smell of mud and
moss.
Will stops. There  is  another scent. Peaches. Cinnamon.
He follows it.
Deep in the marshlands at the Convergence, the woods are verdant, vibrant. The
waters run blue instead of slate, an oasis of color and life in the land of the
dead. Long ago, the gods would bring their oaths and pledges here, at the edge
of the veil. It’s the only place humans can tread without losing their souls to
the mist.
And there, upon the rocks, sits the most beautiful boy Will has ever seen. His
dress is unfamiliar--how much has the outside world changed while Will lingers
here?--but the simple whites and blacks offset the rich tan of his skin. The
boy’s hair is remarkable, a strange sandy color, somehow already tinged with
silver, though he can’t be more than eleven. A single yellow narcissus sits
tucked behind his ear.
He is an omega, Will knows, yet still unpresented. Ripe before his first heat.
Will never understood the pederasts of old until now. He aches to take the boy
back with him, to teach him how to rule the dead, to bind him to the Underworld
and one day hand him the throne. It’s impossible not to scent the darkness
within the child.
Most importantly, Winbusmax sits at his feet, wagging his tail, clearing the
grass along the Convergence with each swipe.
The boy laughs, and pulls another strip of meat from a bag at his side. He
wraps it around a cloth ball, then throws it as far as her can into the woods.
The Cerberus bounds into the forest.
A human playing fetch with the great dog.
“He likes you,” Will says, calling out from the trees. The boy doesn’t startle,
merely turns his head, and  oh,  how Will wants. High cheekbones; a prominent
jaw; eyes that rival Midas' gold. “What is your name, boy?”
“Perhaps I am Faust,” he replies, a small smile playing across his face, sharp
fangs within his mouth. “Assuming you are Mephistopheles, that is.”
“Hades the thirteenth. So close enough for the work of a king.”
Will’s Faustian friend tilts his head. There is an uncanny maturity to this
boy, a powerful intellect matched only by a sinister cruelty. “Do you wish me
to leave?”
“Only if you refuse me your true name,” says Will. He pushes himself off the
tree, summons his skin of black blood and Hephaestus’ antlers. The boy loses
his composure momentarily, gaze flicking down to Will’s naked groin, but
quickly back to Will’s own eyes. “Or else agree to my terms.’
“Which are?”
“Keep the Cerberus company, just as you are now.” Will grins and adds, “I would
bring more flesh next time, however. It’s been a long, long time since my dogs
dined on the dead.”
His guest straightens, and the emotion drains from his face. “This was my first
kill,” he says. “It went poorly.”
“Then I suppose you shall have to practice, won’t you?”
The boy is up and striding to him, kneeling at Will’s feet, and Will’s breath
catches, lodged in his throat--he can’t recall when he was last worshiped
properly. “I would be your apprentice, should you allow it.”
Will caresses the child’s face, thrills as he leans into the touch. “For the
last time, then, I ask your name, boy.”
“Hannibal.” A whispered gasp. Will wants to hear it in his bed.
“Good boy,” and Hannibal’s moan is precious. “Tell me, Hannibal: are you
hungry?”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm ecstatic that you all are enjoying this so much! Your comments
     and asks and reblog notes were the highlight of my day. <3
     This was written for the #SummertimeSlick prompt "knot denial".
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hannibal comes and goes as he pleases, still having private tutors Earthside.
As much as Will longs to keep him all to himself, Hannibal is too bright to
deny an education. Besides, now that Will has taught Hannibal to harvest the
souls of his victims, the Underworld serves a purpose once more. Hannibal is a
quick study in the Old Ways; he will make an ideal Persephone and, someday, a
perfect Hades. For now, however, Will requires his deadly skills in the world
above.
The Judges tease him, especially Frederick. “Your apprentice will surpass you
in no time, at all,” he says. “Already his cruelty knows no bounds.”
Will only smiles. His boy is devoted, a beggar at his feet the closer he grows
to his first heat. Hannibal may be a wild force of chaos, but Will holds the
leash.
Chiyoh has grudgingly accepted Hannibal. They puzzle with each other as she
ferries him back and forth, though she is all too glad to bind him when
Hannibal cries and clings to Will, wanting to stay. She’s apparently left him
at the Convergence that way more than once over the two years Will’s denied
Hannibal his bed, his bond.
“He’ll be your prisoner soon enough,” Chiyoh tells him. “He might as well enjoy
breaking free while he still can.”
Will would punish her, were it an option. On the other hand, he can’t deny how
greatly he enjoys the idea of his boy wriggling himself free and walking back
angrily through the portal. It amuses him, to think of Hannibal in the same
predicaments he was placed in himself so long ago.
Eventually, Will’s stubborn omega refuses to leave, staying at the Convergence,
lying bound in the grass next to the river Lethe, drinking from it, trying
futilely to make himself forget. But Hannibal has eaten at Will’s table, though
not from the pomegranate. There’s no forgetfulness to be found in those waters
for Hannibal.
Mighty dead Zeus, but Will loves him.
Hannibal’s heat comes before Will is ready to bond with him and keep him
permanently. He sighs as he crosses the Styx, off to collect his boy, uncertain
whether he wishes to torture him or not. Will was not prepared to lie with
Hannibal before his age. Thirteen is far too young to be a true consort.
Regardless, the temptation is great. Will has no compunction to resist the
sweet taste of his future mate now.
He kneels beside him, fully human, a visage free of fright. Hannibal whines,
and Will is touched by the measure of complete trust, by the total submission
of his vicious, hard-headed boy.
“You’re burning up, aren’t you?” asks Will, touching the lengths of rope one at
a time, turning them to smoke. Hannibal nods, reaching for him as soon as his
arms are free. His eyes are feverish, more red than gold, like moonlit blood
tapped from the crucified far, far down within the circles. “I’m going to help
you,” he promises, “but we will not bond this heat, beloved.”
“Please, Alpha.” His voice is high-pitched, innocent, lyrical, like the choral
hymns of Will’s first days as the Lord of the Underworld. “Please, my only
god.”
“I’m sorry. As beautifully as you beg, little one, the answer is still no. You
will be denied, and you will enjoy it.” Will takes him in his arms, Hannibal
too limp and tired to do more but lie there, and begins the walk back to his
palace.
 
===============================================================================
 
The altar wasn't the most comfortable place, but Will has done his best to make
it a more soothing nest. He found the Ravenstag out in the marshlands,
convincing it to submit to plucking; its feathers will grow back, but Hannibal
will only have one first heat. The sheet and pillow are from Will's own bed in
hopes that it will comfort his boy in the time he is left alone.
Hannibal has done such a wonderful job of renewing the Styx. Will hopes that
his tribute will fully reawaken the Old Gods.
He’s scenting Will’s neck, whimpering softly when he smells nothing. But Will
shushes Hannibal as he lays him on the altar, soothes him more as he fastens
the chains to his wrists and ankles. Hannibal looks up at him, confused, then
petrified as Will takes up the knife.
“Trust in me, my lovely penitent,” Will says as he begins to cut off Hannibal’s
clothes. Hannibal groans, arching up as best he can. It isn't much; the chains
are too tight, spreading him across the altar, elbows bent to put his forearms
down against the sides, and knees spread to do likewise. “How pretty you look
like this, every inch of you mine.”
“Feels...Alpha, it feels so  good.”
Will smiles. “I know. I remember my time as the sacrifice, myself, though I was
much older than you.” He tosses the knife in the air, catching it easily. “And
I was not so pliant, so willing to spend my rut crying out to the Gods.”
He wasn't nearly this gorgeous, either, not like Hannibal, his tan skin
blushing ruddy with his heat. Will runs his hand up the inside of a strong
thigh, though he'd much rather stroke Hannibal's cock, still growing as he
ages, full and erect and weeping now. But it's Hannibal’s cunt that draws
Will's eyes the most, the glisten of his very first sweet slick on his folds.
It has only now begun to flow, and he marvels at how greatly Hannibal seems to
enjoy his predicament.
Will simply can't deny himself a taste.
Hannibal squirms beneath Will's mouth as he laps at his cunt greedily. His
little sighs of pleasure are exquisite, and Will feels drunk already. He licks
down Hannibal's thighs, and his boy tries to push back into Will's face, but he
can't move enough. Will grins and takes pity, although he is hardly merciful,
fucking Hannibal shallowly with his tongue, just enough to tease. Hannibal's
heat is mounting higher--Will can smell it on him as he mouths his way up his
body. Hannibal shudders beneath him, tense and wanton as Will's cock presses
against his own.
Will lays the knife beside Hannibal, summoning the seeds of the pomegranate, a
vial full of promise. Surely his future mate will eat them. He had the offer to
eat six before. Who could fault Will for supplying all twelve now?
“Are you hungry, my omega?” he asks, voice dripping with honey.
But Hannibal shakes his head. “I crave you, but you will not trick me today,
Alpha.” His smile is triumphant, and Will is disappointed, yet impressed by the
strength of Hannibal’s will, as well.
“As you wish.” Will closes his eyes, straddling Hannibal's stomach, and drops
his robe. “I suppose you want my knot,” says Will, taking his cock in hand.
“Please.”
Will hums as he pumps his cock, little finesse, but slow just enough to taunt
his omega. “When you’re older,” he says. “You’ll still be tight as a vestal
virgin when I fuck you for the first time.” Hannibal’s head is tossed to the
side to bare his neck, and there are tears at the corners of his eyes.
“Watch me,”  commands Will, and he’s never used the Voice before. Hannibal’s
eyes snap to Will; he stills, licking his lips as he watches Will pleasure
himself. It doesn’t take long for Will’s knot to begin to inflate, and
Hannibal’s sobs are dry, his head held up to better see.
“Such a very good boy.” Will spares a hand to trace over Hannibal’s face, to
pet his scent glands and down his neck to his chest. Hannibal’s omegan breasts
have yet to develop--oh, how young he is! How perfect and tempting in his
youth! Will almost wishes he’d done this sooner. “I’ll let you come some day,”
Will promises, stroking Hannibal’s nipples one at a time, his moans like music.
“Would you like to see my knot, my handsome omega?”
Hannibal nods so hard that Will has to rush his hand to the back of his head to
prevent him from hitting it on the stone. He rubs it while he’s there, enjoying
the silky softness of Hannibal’s hair.
“I’m yours,” Hannibal whispers. “I had neither chance nor desire to resist, so
here I am, and I belong to no one else.”
Will’s own eyes grow misty. “Sometimes I don’t feel I deserve you. My vicious
beast.”
“Come on me,” says Hannibal, still quiet. “Mark me, my Lord.”
His young voice is so erotic that Will almost comes immediately. But he holds
out long enough for his knot to grow in his fist, to cry out from the force of
his orgasm, to paint Hannibal’s chest and face in white. Will leans down,
careful not to disturb his mess, and he kisses his love for the first time. He
tastes himself on Hannibal’s lips, tacky and wet, his tongue slipping out, a
question for Will’s mouth that he is happy to answer.
Against Hannibal’s mouth, breathing the words onto his palate to savor, Will
says,  “ Ά νερρίφθω κύβος.”  1
The cut across Hannibal’s throat is ugly and unkind, but the blood that spills
to either side of his neck, that runs down the grooves of the altar and ever
downward is gorgeous. So is the spray that bathes Will’s face in red, dripping
into his eyes and mouth. Will licks his lips, and Hannibal moans silently,
every chord sliced through.
It’s so difficult to leave Hannibal there, among the candlelight and incense,
but Will promises him that he’ll return, to feed him and give him water, and to
drink his fill of his slick. Hannibal’s first heat will be long and difficult,
but his omega is strong. Will knows he will survive and come out truly devoted
to the gods and, most importantly, to Will.
Chapter End Notes
     1 “Let the die be cast.” An indication that events have reached the
     point of no return.
     See you on Sunday for the last chapter! :D
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     There's some intentional pronoun shifting in this chapter, so be
     aware of that as you read. Otherwise, here's the thrilling
     conclusion, inspired by the #SummertimeSlick prompt "Slick Sunday"!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Two more long years they’ve waited. Sexual sacrifice, all the fertility of his
obscene youth, one heat after another, until Hannibal comes just from the sight
of the altar and again from the chains on his wrists and ankles. Will never
remembered becoming so conditioned to the ritual. Perhaps because Hannibal is
so young and has been trained for three years.
Will doesn’t care. The Gods, after centuries of silence, have approved of
Will’s  protégé,  and that’s all that matters.
Hannibal comes to him in the morning, riding the stag across the river. It is
Hades who meets him on the shore, his skin gray and his antlers covered with
the gore of the Second Circle. He extends his hand, and Persephone takes it,
giving him the slight smile she has developed during her time here, a side-
effect of the pleasure found in her duty and devotion to the Old Ways. Taking
his Persephone in his arms, he carries her across the Styx through the Diamond
Gate.
She presses kisses up and down Hades’ neck, and reaches one hand up to stroke
his antlers. Hades’ chest rumbles, delighted, and Persephone purrs in response.
It makes sense, to stop there in the throne room, to kiss his bride
passionately, viscera dripping down into Persephone’s hair, dying the crown of
yellow narcissus, relishing her little hum. The blood of their victims looks so
beautiful dripping down his omega’s face. His own blood will look even better
on her later.
Hades’ bed is large, a carefully-built nest for his soon-to-be mate. He has
laid in it nightly, scenting the bedding; stuffed new pillows one at a time
from the feathers on the altar; slayed the Nightmares one by one and taken
their furs. Anything he can do to make his omega comfortable, Hades has done.
Persephone rubs her cheek against the sheet when she lies down in the nest.
Watching her enjoying the sensation so shamelessly, Hades can’t help but wonder
if it will always be like this when he takes her to bed, or if it is a
consequence of her youth, or else her anticipation of this moment. They’ve
waited so long for this day to come, but Hades wants the mischief and monster
of his Hannibal. Maybe after they’ve mated; then again, perhaps Persephone is
like this during all of her heats, pliable and desirous and oh so willing.
“Give me your hands, lovely child.”
She does, shifting restlessly at the familiar feel of metal on her wrists. “I
won’t need these,” Persephone says, smirking, drawing up her legs. They part--
Hades can see how wet she is, her gown sticking to her cunt, slick beginning to
run onto the sheets. He takes a moment to trace down her slit with the tip of
his finger, watches her eyes flutter closed as she tries to press into it, to
take his hands where she needs it so badly.
“You will,”  mutters Hades, lost in the feel of Persephone’s slick through
Athena’s cloth.  “At least, I will. You were supposed to be abducted, according
to ritual.”  He smiles, all teeth and terror.  “Most are not such eager, wanton
little things, however.”
Persephone bites her lip as Hades climbs on the bed, pressing the back of his
hand against her soaked cunt. “Then you are to be appeased? Was that the
purpose of my suffering all these months?”
Hades glances up at her, meeting her eyes, still smiling. Instead of
responding, he mouths at her cock through the fabric, groaning against the
flesh when more slick gushes forth.
He can’t wait any longer. Damn the Ritual; damn the Ways;  damn the Gods.
Persephone is flipped onto her front, gasping. Without warning, Hades fuses the
cuffs behind her back, using them as a fulcrum. His other hand rips through the
material of her gown, baring her sex to him. Pulling her up to her knees, back
to his chest, Hades pushes in, and she cries out, slick flowing over his balls
and dripping down to pool on the bed beneath them.
“Heat for me,”  orders Hades, and Persephone shivers and shakes as her body
obeys, burning to full heat immediately.
She lets her head drop between her shoulder blades as he uses her wrists to
hold her still, her back angled, arching, presenting on her knees. Each moan is
a punctuation of his cock slamming into her; Hades does not seek out the
perfect spot inside her, because she is his to take. Let his Persephone writhe
beneath him in pleasure later, even though she practically sings with it now,
meeting him thrust for thrust as much as she is able.
Persephone’s voice is weak as she submits to her place as the vessel of a god.
“Alpha,” she cries, “use me. Knot me. Claim me, Alpha, please!”
He yanks her back up onto her knees, head lolling to the side, baring her
throat to him. Hades snarls as his knot begins to grow, and keeps pushing into
her, reaching down to collect her slick. Persephone shudders as Hades paints
her with it--her face; her neck; her chest, where he stops to fondle her, a
gentle counterpoint to the roughness of their joining.
At last, he bends his head to lick at her scent glands, locks inside of her,
and bites down, rending the flesh as she screams her own completion. Hades
falls upon her, covering her as she lies on the bed again, drinking the blood
of his willing omega. Reaching between them, Hades burns the cuffs to ash,
giving her back her hands, though she whines until he laces their fingers
together, arms on either side of her head. He moves shallowly, grinding into
her, and there is the spot Persephone craved his touch. Hades is soaked with
slick as she comes again.
The god breathes in; Will breathes out, his antlers fading away as he turns
them onto their sides. “Are you alright, little beast?” he asks, still sucking
at Hannibal’s neck intermittently.
“If I am to expect that all of my life,” says Hannibal, still catching his
breath, “then I am perfect.”
“That you are,” Will replies, and Hannibal laughs in his arms. “Tell me when
you grow faint,” and he returns to sating his thirst on his sacrificial wolf,
for there are no lambs in this bed. Eventually, Hannibal taps at Will’s arm.
“Drink from me,” says Will, presenting the wrist of the arm pillowing
Hannibal’s head. He exhales happily as Hannibal does, biting him just as
harshly as Will bit him.
For the last time, Will conjures a pomegranate, cracking it in half with his
hand. The first half rolls off the back of the bed; as for the second, he lies
it in front of Hannibal.
“Are you ready to eat with me now?” he asks, unlatching Hannibal from his arm.
As suspected, Will’s blood is the ideal addition to his omega’s face, painting
Hannibal’s lips a rich red. Will plucks a seed from the pomegranate, and holds
it to Hannibal’s mouth.
One by one, Hannibal eats not six, not twelve, but every seed Will feeds to
him, until the halved pomegranate lies empty, and Hannibal is fated to lie in
his arms forever.
Will takes up Hannibal’s cock again, hand stained with juice, pumping him
lazily as Hannibal returns to lapping up the blood that flows from Will’s arm
like the Styx, soul-filled, life-giving, and endless as death.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading! I hope the filth was enjoyable. <3
End Notes
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