Fic: "The Power of Family"
I decided to post this here while I wait for my AO3 approval. Also on Dreamwidth. I encourage you to watch Hannibal because even the show's creator ships Hannigram. Seriously.
Title: The Power of Family
Author: JuxtaposeFantasy
Pairing: Abigail/Hannibal/Will
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Summary: Hannibal helps Abigail regain her sense of power by taking advantage of all that it means to be Will Graham's new daughter
Tags/Warnings: threesome, femdom, domination, submission, f/m, f/m/m, underage
Note: After seeing some sex scenes from the movie Tempo where Hugh Dancy's character hooks up with Rachel Leigh Cook's more aggressive character, I had a hankering for some femdom. This is fledgling femdom I guess, since Abigail is so young, and I of course had to include Hannibal in the fun because at heart I love Hannigram most. My first fic for Hannibal.
Abigail was smart, even if currently she was a little messed up, what with the murders and the interviews and the relocation and all. She didn't think any girl her age would react well to what had happened to her lately but she was confident that she was handling it better than most.
If only Hannibal felt the same.
She knew he watched her. And since he was a psychiatrist and more importantly because he was him he saw more than anyone else did. Maybe he saw everything. She hoped not. But she wouldn't put it past him.
So when one night during dessert -- do not think about what was really in that beef Wellington you just ate -- she tensed only slightly when he carefully set his utensils aside and quietly said, "Abigail, we need to talk."
The potential topics up for discussion were numerous. Some would send her to jail, others to a psyche ward, but she said only, "What about?"
He didn't buy her look of disingenuousness for a second. "I know you remain unsettled by all that has happened..."
"I'm fine."
She pressed her lips together when a hint of impatience touched his features. Though he had only ever been kind to her, she recognized what lay behind that veneer of culture and sophistication. She had glimpsed the beast. Though oddly, she wasn't as afraid of it as perhaps she should be.
"You know that I have only your best interests at heart," he continued slowly. He waited for her to nod hesitantly before continuing. "I believe that you are unhappy."
"I'm fine."
He remained impassive, watching her. Waiting her out. She surrendered, finally, her eyes dropping to her empty plate. "I'm just -- I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like -- like something's missing."
He didn't immediately suggest it was her father, or even her mother. He knew her better than that, thank god.
"You lack equilibrium," Hannibal told her. "You have been uprooted from a situation that, however dysfunctional, nevertheless provided you with a sense of belonging."
"My father was insane."
"But he needed you. You filled a role in his life that became fulfilling for you too." When she snapped an outraged glare at him, he held up a hand, palm out. "I do not mean that you found enjoyment in luring those girls to him. I mean only that your subconscious recognized that you could provide him with happiness the way no one else could. He needed you, and in needing you he gave you a reason to experience power."
"Power," she repeated softly. A shiver rippled through her limbs. She gripped her hands in her lap, glad that he couldn't see them.
"What you are missing is power and a sense of control over your own life. Too many decisions have been made for you lately, placing you in a position of passivity."
"Maybe," she murmured.
"I think I may have a solution to your problem." Hannibal lifted a glass of ice wine to his lips, took a careful sip. "Do you trust me, Abigail?"
She knew if she said no he wouldn't kill her for the answer, but she still felt a frisson of unease as she stared into his eyes. "I trust you."
His smile, just a flicker, a flash of metal in the moonlight, eased her spine.
"Let me help you recover your power, Abigail," he said softly. "I believe I have just the thing."
~~~
Weeks passed and nothing changed.
Well, nothing besides the fact that Hannibal invited Will Graham over for dinner at least twice a week. Abigail was more surprised that the twitchy FBI agent accepted than that Hannibal wanted his company. She had seen the way Hannibal watched the younger man, though she hadn't put a motive to it until now.
Dinners were awkward, big surprise. She wasn't sure if she liked having Will over. Though she faintly resented his unsubtle desire to become her surrogate father, she found his earnestness oddly appealing. Hannibal didn't need anything from her. She doubted he had relied on anyone since he was a child. But Will was different. His need bled from his pores, even if he surrounded himself in emotional barbed wire. It was weird, really. How could you want but not take? Once she understood this about him she found herself watching him more closely, fascinated by the desperation he tried so hard to hide.
When Hannibal told her that Will knew about the murder she'd committed, her fear had nearly strangled her. But what had changed, really? The next time the three of them sat down to dinner, Abigail was hyperaware of Will, waiting for him to jump up and pull out handcuffs, or for him to yell at her for being a murderer, or for him to do anything. But beyond a few accusing, lingering looks, Will did nothing.
It was easier to eat dinner, then. Easier to swallow. Easier to breathe. Will would do nothing. Will wasn't a threat. If anything, Will was clearly more troubled by Nick Boyle than she was. It became a game for her sometimes to stare at him until his gaze skittered away. He'd fumble with his silverware or take a gulp of wine. It was almost fun to play with him this way.
She glanced up once after making Will clear his throat and rub his napkin over his lips for the third time and caught Hannibal watching the exchange. The corner of his mouth twitched and that was when Abigail understood.
~~~
One night after dessert, Hannibal invited Will to stay for drinks. Abigail hovered by the kitchen door, a half-dried plate in her hand as she eavesdropped.
"Thank you for the offer, Hannibal, but it's late and I--"
"It's Friday night. There are no new cases for you, Will. I would enjoy your company very much, if only for a few hours."
"It'll be midnight--"
"You are more than welcome to spend the night in the guest room."
Abigail held her breath during the silence that hovered.
"She craves the security of a family, Will." Hannibal's voice was seductive. Her fingers tightened around the plate. It was her secret that she found him attractive, if intimidating. She sometimes wished she could watch him masturbate. That way she could see him and still be safe.
Hannibal spoke again, his voice lower, deeper. Intimate. "When you take a stray into your home you spend time with it, don't you? Give it time to grow accustomed to your presence, prove to it that you mean it no harm."
"Abigail is not a dog." Will sounded offended on her behalf. She half-smiled. She might not be the dog but Will sometimes seemed like a puppy to her, yapping to sound tough, but ultimately craving a petting hand.
"No, she is our daughter, and you and Abigail need to become familiar with each other. We need to become a family."
The statement startled her. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, although her instinctive reaction wasn't negative. More like curiosity. A family with two dads? One a killer like she was, the other someone who could send them both to jail?
But she was beginning to think Will wasn't like that. Something about his reactions to Hannibal, the way he couldn't meet the doctor's eyes, the almost shy smiles he gave him...in the back of her mind she understood his behavior but she couldn't put her finger on it to label it. Will wouldn't hurt Hannibal, but Abigail wasn't yet sure why.
"Fine. Fine. I'll stay." Will sighed. He sounded tired. There were bags under eyes lately and he seemed to be more frazzled each time she saw him. Abigail could tell Hannibal noticed these things. She wondered what he intended to do about them since Hannibal now considered them a family.
The three of them retired to the living room, eschewing the formal sitting room where Hannibal usually entertained guests. Previously, only Abigail had sat with Hannibal in this room. It was a comfortable sanctuary for them. Will seemed surprised and wary as he sank back in the soft cushions of the sofa, making her almost smile where she stood in the doorway. This room reflected the private Hannibal. Well, as much as he allowed it to. Abigail doubted she had ever seen the real Hannibal. Maybe she never would, but that was okay; she liked this version well enough.
"Since it's just the three of us and Abigail is old enough." Hannibal handed out snifters and poured cognac.
"She's underage," Will muttered as he brought the glass to his lips and took a large swallow of the amber liquid.
Hannibal's mouth tightened at the disrespect to the liquor so Abigail made a show of warming the brandy, sniffing it first before taking a small taste. He gave her an approving nod and she smiled. He sat at one end of the sofa and it seemed natural that she should take the other end. Between them, Will noticed their positioning and stared into his snifter as if searching for the clues to a future homicide.
They drank in silence for several minutes, Hannibal shifting his gaze from Will's profile to her face, she doing the same but with Hannibal. Will gulped down his drink, stood up, poured himself another, and looked at no one.
Abigail realized she was drunk when she noticed she was staring at Will's throat. The wild thought entered her head that Hannibal probably fantasized about biting that throat. In truth, she wasn't sure about Hannibal's sexuality. He seemed too refined to want to fumble about with sex. Unless he could orchestrate it so it wasn't messy. If he could control the pace, every angle, every touch...
When she lifted her eyes she wasn't surprised to find Hannibal watching her. She took a deep breath, much as she had when she'd decided to dig up Nick Boyle's body, and swallowed the rest of her brandy in one gulp. She was warm and her mind was pleasantly hazy. Holding Hannibal's eyes, she set the glass on the end table behind her. Very slowly, she licked her lips.
Hannibal's smile was a suggestion on his face. He mimicked her actions with the brandy and turned sideways on the sofa, his right knee drawn up and resting on the cushion, nearly touching Will's hip. Will's eyes flicked down to it. His shoulders rounded, just barely.
Abigail knew it was her turn. She was wearing a red cardigan. Blood red, actually. She had intuited that it was Hannibal's favorite color. She reached up, making sure Will noticed her movements, and slipped the top two buttons of the sweater open, baring her throat and collarbones.
At the last second her nerves failed her. "It's hot," she murmured, self-conscious. "Isn't it?"
Hannibal appeared amused. Will's eyes jumped frantically away from her bared skin.
"Must be the alcohol," he mumbled. "You shouldn't be drinking at your age."
It sounded like something a father would say. Like he cared about her. She liked it.
On the other end of the sofa, Hannibal raised his arm and rested it along the back of the sofa. It brought his fingers close to Will's shoulder and caused the man to hunch forward even further. Will wore a hideous sweater, something Abigail's grandfather might have worn. As Abigail watched, Hannibal lowered his hand from the back of the sofa and rested it high on Will's back, near the nape of his neck.
Will didn't startle as she'd expected. Instead, he froze like a rabbit. He remained that way as Hannibal's fingers moved once, twice, gently brushing across the cheap acrylic, inches from the too-long curls of Will's hair.
Abigail could hear herself breathing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the drama playing out across Will's face. She could tell he wanted to slide out from under Hannibal's hand, wanted to shoot to his feet and bolt from the house. A drop of sweat glimmered at his temple. As it began to slide down his skin, Hannibal murmured, "Shhh," and laid his hand flat on Will's back, soothing.
Possessive.
Something sour crossed Abigail's tongue. Without thinking, without caring about the consequences, she slid forward and touched those messy brown curls near Will's face. This time he did startle, his head twisting, green eyes rounding in shocked confusion.
"Abigail--" he began but she cut him off with the finger of her other hand, her own boldness making her heart pound like a wild, cornered beast's. Only this time she wasn't the cornered one. This time it was Will, and the experience was euphoric.
"Shh," she said, breathless to be mimicking Hannibal's actions, his power. She leaned forward to kiss the caged, tremulous prey in front of her.
But Will jerked back.
"Abigail, this isn't appropriate," he said sharply. Eyes wild, he caught both of her wrists in his and held them away from him. "I am your--your father." His cheeks flushed at the stumble but his grip remained firm. "You're just confused right now. It's understandable."
She hated his reaction. She felt like a little girl, like her real father's daughter, helpless to do anything except survive. Just as she began to redden with shame, Hannibal sat forward and pressed himself to Will's back.
Will froze, his gaze locked with Abigail's. She saw everything then: shock, mortification, discomfort, and hidden far, far beneath the others--arousal. It was a revelation to her.
"Will, you are making Abigail doubt herself," Hannibal murmured into the other man's ear, his breath stirring the same curls that she had just touched. Through the grip on her wrists she felt the violent tremor that shook Will.
"This isn't right," Will tried again, his voice shaking. "She's barely more than a child. She's--she's traumatized. She doesn't know what she's doing."
"Is this true, Abigail?"
She found her voice as two sets of eyes pinned her. "I'm not a child. I know what I'm doing. What I--want." Now that she'd said it she understood that it was true. She wanted.
Hannibal slid his hands up to Will's tense shoulders. "You are her father. A good father gives a daughter what she needs to be happy. To be strong."
Will gave a wild-sounding laugh. "How is this making her strong?"
"Because no one's forcing me," she said softly. Tears jumped to her eyes. She didn't know where the emotion came from but it was overpowering. Deep-rooted. She blinked hard. A single tear slid down her cheek. "For once this is my choice."
Will's face crumbled. He was younger than she'd first thought. Much younger than Hannibal, who seemed ageless and worldly. It enflamed her need to have him, to affect him.
"I need you," she whispered. "Please...Will."
He swallowed. His eyes were tortured, holding hers with a plea to stop this as Hannibal slid his hands slowly down Will's biceps and forearms until he curled his hands around Will's wrists. She couldn't be merciful. That wasn't what this was about. Hannibal's small smile said so.
"Let go," Abigail whispered.
Trembling between them, Will released her. He stared at her, distressed, as Hannibal guided his arms down and behind him until they rested at the small of his back. Hannibal held them there and something within Abigail whispered a thrilled, Oh.
Will turned his face away and averted his gaze. A blush burned hot on his cheekbones. "I don't understand this," he choked out.
Hannibal's mouth was at his ear again as he murmured, "You will."
Abigail waited for Hannibal to look up and give her permission. When he did, she reached out to gently cup Will's jaw and chin. He shut his eyes, but that was alright. She liked that. He was vulnerable. When was the last time anyone quailed because of her?
With her thumbs she traced his cheekbones, grazed the stubble on his cheeks that he probably didn't realize was attractive on him. He probably didn't know a lot about the effect he had on people. She admitted she'd missed it initially too. Now that she had him at her mercy she saw what Hannibal must have seen all along.
She leaned forward by degrees, knowing Will was aware of the movement, that he'd tensed against Hannibal in anticipation of her touching him. With her mouth millimeters from the corner of his mouth she paused and simply breathed. Will trembled like a flag in a breeze.
In the silence she heard Hannibal inhale. He could have been excited or he could have been smelling Will. Hannibal was kind of strange that way but she wasn't one to judge. Besides, it turned her on to think that Hannibal could smell Will's arousal, that it heightened his own. In this way she was giving a gift to all of them. Like they were a family that shared.
Will's mouth, which had been pursed tight, gradually loosened as the seconds passed. She watched his eyes move behind his shut eyelids before his lips grew softer. Eventually they parted and a single exhalation escaped him. She sealed her mouth over his and slipped her tongue between his lips before he could stop her.
In exchange for her tongue he gave her a strangled moan to savor and swallow. She forced his face around so she could deepen the kiss. It was her first time being aggressive with a boy--with a man--and she half-expected him to take over like the others had. But Will was Will. He was the man who had allowed Hannibal to bully him into not turning Abigail over to the police. Something like pushing her tongue out of his mouth just wasn't something he was capable of doing. It made her grow warm and moist. She clutched his face a little tighter, fingers digging into his skin in her greed. She thrust her tongue in deeper, filling his mouth, and he gasped and took all of her as if he could do nothing else.
Her ache grew. His unexpected submission did crazy things to her body. Squeezing her thighs around the throbbing wasn't enough. It was instinct--don't think!--to rise up and crawl forward to straddle his turned knees. He bucked once but Hannibal held him still beneath her as she found the hardness in his lap and settled her heat over it. She was so glad she'd worn a skirt. The barrier of her panties was no barrier at all as she ground down over him, rubbing her clit against him.
He made another noise into her mouth. It sounded desperate. Tortured. She broke away from his gasping mouth to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his temple--every inch of bare skin above that ugly sweater no matter how much he tried to strain away from her. She didn't feel bad that he struggled because she could feel his panting breaths against the top of her head, his heaving chest against her breasts. And then there was the matter of his erection, which told her how much he enjoyed this even if he didn't think he should.
A muffled groan ruffled her hair. There was a tenor to it that caused her to raise her head. What she saw made her moan. Hannibal acknowledged her reaction with a glance before returning his attention to Will, whose ear he was rhythmically tongue-fucking.
Abigail had never seen two men being intimate, not in real life anyway. She'd seen plenty of YouTube videos of boys kissing boys sent to her by girlfriends. This was different. These were men. Hannibal was old enough to be her real dad and Will was close enough. Hannibal wasn't giving Will a sloppy adolescent kiss: too fast, too wet, too selfish. Each dip of his tongue into the whorl of Will's ear was slow, deliberate, designed to push the breath from Will's throat, which it did with every languid thrust. Will's brows were knitted, his lower lip clutched beneath his teeth. He looked like he was in pain except his hips moved beneath Abigail, pushing up for friction that was maddening.
"I need..." Her whisper trailed off. She didn't know who she was talking to.
But Hannibal had heard her. "Take what you need from him, Abigail." He withdrew his tongue to bite lightly, and not so lightly, on the cartilage in Will's ear. "Will loves you. He is happy to accommodate you."
Will finally opened his eyes, though Abigail wasn't sure he was actually seeing anything. Dazed, his pupils blown, he struggled to focus. "Abi--" he started. Then he shuddered when Hannibal's tongue dipped inside his ear again. "Hannibal," he gasped. "This--"
"Is precisely what you need, Will. What Abigail needs." Hannibal's eyes dipped shut in a momentary surrender. "What we all need."
Abigail shivered. She hadn't expected to find Hannibal so intensely sexy, and seeing him controlling Will made her yearn to be like him. Her panties were soaked and her nipples sparked with each breath. She fell back against the arm of the sofa and kicked off her shoes. Hannibal watched her yank down her underwear and fling them off and she wasn't even embarrassed when his eyes flicked beneath her skirt. It felt naughty and empowering, knowing he wanted to look, that he wanted to see her.
Will had gone back to scrunching up his eyes although she noticed his head had fallen back and was resting on Hannibal's shoulder, baring the side of his face and the entire curve of his neck to whoever wanted it. She hadn't known she'd wanted his surrender until he gave it to her. To them.
Bare beneath her skirt, she crawled over his lap again. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. His shoulders strained and she wondered if he wanted to help her or stop her. Hannibal wouldn't allow them to find out. He dragged his lips down Will's throat as he kept the other man restrained. When Abigail finally opened the belt and dragged down the zipper on his pants Will heaved upwards, nearly throwing her off.
"Stop," Will managed to gasp, lifting his head. Lucidity swam to the surface of his glazed green eyes. "We're going too far. I can't--I can't let this happen. Alanna--"
Abigail grabbed a fistful of his hair, shocking them both. Over Will's shoulder, Hannibal merely smiled. "Alanna's not your girlfriend," Abigail said to Will. "You don't have anyone but us."
He frowned, incredulity leaking into his eyes. Abigail didn't want to see it there. She shoved her other hand into the slit of his boxers and cupped him. Will's eyes widened before they slammed shut. She kept the tight grip on his hair as she combed her fingers through his pubes, teasing him, making this grown man, this FBI agent, tremble beneath her.
"Abigail, please," he panted.
"Please what?" she demanded, pulling his head back so his throat arched.
Hannibal, a dark shadow behind Will's head, wore a sickle smile.
"Just, please..."
Will couldn't finish the sentence. Abigail wasn't upset. His helplessness was sexy even if he was embarrassed by it. Maybe his reluctance made it even moreso. She rewarded him by wrapping her hand around his cock.
He bit off a moan as she began to stroke the hot length of him. The tip of him was wet, which she hoped meant he was excited by what they were doing. She was definitely wet. Stroking him and making him strain beneath her was making her even wetter.
Hannibal shifted behind Will, his eyes on Abigail. He reached around Will and held a condom out to her. It was his blessing for the natural next step. It also told her that he'd planned every part of this. That was a turn-on, actually, knowing that he'd imagined them together this way, probably masturbated to the fantasy, to images of her...
Wordless, she took the packet...and discovered it was nearly impossible to open with one hand.
"I suggest using your teeth," Hannibal offered.
Will opened his eyes then. He cursed as he watched Abigail tear the packet open with her teeth. He kept his jaw clenched as she took the condom and clumsily rolled it down his cock, but she could tell he was agonizing over this.
Too bad for him.
She sank down over him slowly. There was still some pain when she took a guy into herself and this time was no different. But Will unwittingly provided a visual distraction as he strained beneath her, the cords in his neck jumping out. His nostrils flared as she took him inch by slow inch. When she was almost there he lost control and thrust upwards into her, pulling a shocked gasp from her.
Remorse jumped to his face but she didn't let it live there long. Gripping him by the hair and shoulder she rose up and then sank down again. She ground down over Will, pushing the tip of his cock where she needed it, rubbing her clit against his pubic hair. She threw back her head as electricity sizzled up the backs of her legs and through the base of her spine. Her movements were slow at first, but began to speed up as sensation roiled and boiled within her.
Beneath her, Will was becoming a gasping, groaning wreck, his upper body completely supported by Hannibal now, who didn't seem to mind as he sucked dark marks into Will's neck. Hannibal's free hand roamed over Will's chest, fingers dancing over the peaked points of his nipples, teasing them through the sweater he wore and making Will grimace and twist.
It made Abigail jealous so she let go of Will long enough to yank her own cardigan up and over her head, flinging it off somewhere in the room. Her bra followed.
She grabbed Will's hair again, startling his eyes open, and ordered breathlessly, "Lick me."
Will groaned as he stared at her tight, small breasts bobbing in front of his face.
"Put your mouth on her, Will." Hannibal's voice was warm honey, pouring over Will and Abigail, binding them together. Her body broke out in a heated flush as Hannibal's dark eyes roamed over her.
"I can't," Will gasped, but he licked his lips, his eyes riveted to her left breast where her nipple was a tight pink berry in its center.
Abigail lost her patience and yanked on his hair, making him grunt. His cock swelled within her. "You like that," she said. It was sort of funny and sort of hot that he got off on her dominating him. Lucky for him she liked it too.
He refused to meet her eyes--a voice in her head whispered, submissive!, so she tugged harder on his hair, forcing his face to her chest.
"Lick it," she ordered more firmly. He groaned against her skin. Inspiration struck. "Pretend it's the tip of Hannibal's cock."
A palpable sense of horror fell over Will. Abigail stilled, fearing she'd screwed it all up, taken them all out of the moment. Where had that come from? Just because Will was too befuddled to really think about who was licking his ear didn't mean he was ready to suck--
Hannibal calmly leaned up to murmur against Will's cheek, "It wouldn't be the first time. Would it, Will?"
It was Abigail's turn to suck in her breath.
Panicked, Will tried to shake his head within her grasp. "I don't know what you're t-talking about. I've never--never done anything like that."
"Not yet you haven't," Hannibal acknowledged. He brushed his cheek alongside Will's, his hand wrapping around the other man's chest in an embrace. "It has never been the gender that has prevented you from partaking. It has always been the fear of losing yourself to their control. Or should I say, the appeal of it." His tongue flicked out like a snake's, touching Will's bottom lip. "You are safe with us, Will. What you enjoy here, with your family, will always be sacred."
"I'm not gay," Will ground out, but he was still hard inside Abigail and she tentatively began to move again, clenching and releasing around him. His green eyes shot to her accusingly. She gave him a small, unrepentant grin in return.
"Labels mean nothing, Will." Hannibal flattened his hand on Will's stomach and began to slide it down to where Abigail rode him. "This is about finding pleasure in honesty."
"No..." Will gritted out. The protest was breathy, evaporating instantly. Abigail and Hannibal ignored it.
Hannibal was smiling as he reached between Will and Abigail, slender fingers exploring the firm inch of flesh that Abigail's body didn't quite swallow. "I find no shame in taking pleasure with you and Abigail. You shouldn't either. No one is judging anyone in this room. This is a place of safety." His fingertip circled the base of Will's cock. "A place for surrender."
Abigail moved with speed and purpose again, confident that Will wanted this as badly as Hannibal suggested he did. Thank god, because she was sure she was going to climax soon. The fleeting touches of Hannibal's fingers as he touched Will made her body writhe. She ached for him to touch her clit, and his wicked glance at her face told her he was aware of her need but chose to leave it unfulfilled for now.
"You carry too much on your shoulders, Will." Will's body began to undulate against Abigail. At the same time a whimper slipped from between his lips. It took her a few moments to realize that his body was being moved by Hannibal, who was thrusting against Will from behind. "It would be therapeutic to release that burden and allow us to carry it for you."
"Hannibal...please."
"Tell me what you want," Hannibal whispered as he continued to drive himself against Will's ass.
In answer he received a stubborn, almost childish shake of Will's head. Abigail would have found it funny but right now she just wanted to come.
"Hannibal," she moaned urgently.
He understood her predicament. With an indulgent smile at her, he said, "Use him as you need, Abigail. You are in control here."
She didn't question it. Not for a second. She jerked Will to her breast, let out a choked cry as his lips coiled around her nipple and sucked. His gasping breaths burned her skin but his tongue -- oh, god, his tongue. When it swiped across her, Hannibal, as if connected psychically to Will, flicked the tip of his finger against her clit. With a squeal Abigail came, clamping down hard around Will's throbbing cock.
Curled over his head, she shuddered as waves of pleasure rolled through her. She could see down Will's back from this angle. Through slitted eyelids she watched Hannibal roll his hips into Will, firm and sensually. He was going to fuck Will at some point, she realized. The bolt of desire that shot through her at the thought caught her by surprise.
She lifted her head, brushed the damp strands of hair from her face and panted to Hannibal, "I want to be here when you do it."
Hannibal, ever perceptive, merely smiled.
Will was still moving, thrusting inside her, but Abigail rose up. Instinctively she knew she couldn't cuddle with him. Not yet, even though when she collapsed back on the sofa's arm she was met with the sight of a strung-out Will Graham who was desperate for her touch.
"Abigail," he gasped. "I still...I need you."
Hannibal slowed his thrusts against Will as if waiting for her cue. It was surprisingly easy to decide what to do next.
"No," she said clearly even though her body was still humming with aftershocks from her orgasm.
"You're not allowed to come tonight. Maybe next time."
Something flashed across Will's agonized face but to her frustration she didn't know if it was disappointment, relief or something else. He shut his eyes and ducked his head, chest rising and falling with great breaths as if he was collecting himself. Behind him, Hannibal ceased moving and held Will almost comfortingly.
Abigail couldn't help herself. She crawled forward again until she was sitting beside Will and wrapped her arms around his waist. His breath hitched as she rested her cheek against his abdomen, but she whispered soothing nothings to him and gradually, his desperate shivers tapered off. When his cock began to soften, she was the first to see it happen.
Will wouldn't meet their gazes when, minutes later, he reached down for his pants. His hands hovered above his opened fly. Abigail's breath caught in her chest when he murmured, almost inaudibly, "May I?"
Abigail spoke before Hannibal could. "You may."
Head down, with her and Hannibal still wrapped around him, Will tucked himself away and fixed his clothing. His hands came to rest on his thighs as if he didn't know what else to do with them. Abigail was seized with a sudden, irrational urge to tie him up and stash him in her closet so she could torment him whenever she chose.
"I think it's all time that we rested," Hannibal spoke up.
Reluctantly Abigail released Will and sat up. She had enjoyed holding him. Maybe there was a hint of disappointment on Hannibal's face too as he stood. His hand dropped lightly to Will's shoulder and squeezed.
"The guest room has been prepared for you, Will. Breakfast is served at eight."
He turned to leave so Abigail hurriedly stood and fetched her clothes. She tried to be cool about it but ended up clutching the sweater to her chest, feeling awkward.
"You don't think--you don't think that what we just did--that it wasn't crazy?" Will asked in a distraught voice as she and Hannibal stepped towards the doorway leading to the bedrooms.
Hannibal took his time in turning back to face the other man. Will was hunched, his head in his hands.
"Crazy is repeating the same actions and expecting different results, Will." Hannibal smiled faintly as he took in Will's bowed head. "You have fallen into a rut in your life and it is slowly killing you. I refuse to allow it to continue." He hesitated before adding, "Abigail and I intend to save you because we are your family and we care for you. Sleep well, Will."
Will lifted his head, his doe eyes glimmering. His lips moved but whatever he said was indecipherable. Abigail forced herself to follow Hannibal out of the room.
At her bedroom door Hannibal cupped the back of her head and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. It was a promise, one that she clutched with both hands.
That night Abigail dreamed of her real father, and she killed him.
Title: The Power of Family
Author: JuxtaposeFantasy
Pairing: Abigail/Hannibal/Will
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Summary: Hannibal helps Abigail regain her sense of power by taking advantage of all that it means to be Will Graham's new daughter
Tags/Warnings: threesome, femdom, domination, submission, f/m, f/m/m, underage
Note: After seeing some sex scenes from the movie Tempo where Hugh Dancy's character hooks up with Rachel Leigh Cook's more aggressive character, I had a hankering for some femdom. This is fledgling femdom I guess, since Abigail is so young, and I of course had to include Hannibal in the fun because at heart I love Hannigram most. My first fic for Hannibal.
Abigail was smart, even if currently she was a little messed up, what with the murders and the interviews and the relocation and all. She didn't think any girl her age would react well to what had happened to her lately but she was confident that she was handling it better than most.
If only Hannibal felt the same.
She knew he watched her. And since he was a psychiatrist and more importantly because he was him he saw more than anyone else did. Maybe he saw everything. She hoped not. But she wouldn't put it past him.
So when one night during dessert -- do not think about what was really in that beef Wellington you just ate -- she tensed only slightly when he carefully set his utensils aside and quietly said, "Abigail, we need to talk."
The potential topics up for discussion were numerous. Some would send her to jail, others to a psyche ward, but she said only, "What about?"
He didn't buy her look of disingenuousness for a second. "I know you remain unsettled by all that has happened..."
"I'm fine."
She pressed her lips together when a hint of impatience touched his features. Though he had only ever been kind to her, she recognized what lay behind that veneer of culture and sophistication. She had glimpsed the beast. Though oddly, she wasn't as afraid of it as perhaps she should be.
"You know that I have only your best interests at heart," he continued slowly. He waited for her to nod hesitantly before continuing. "I believe that you are unhappy."
"I'm fine."
He remained impassive, watching her. Waiting her out. She surrendered, finally, her eyes dropping to her empty plate. "I'm just -- I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like -- like something's missing."
He didn't immediately suggest it was her father, or even her mother. He knew her better than that, thank god.
"You lack equilibrium," Hannibal told her. "You have been uprooted from a situation that, however dysfunctional, nevertheless provided you with a sense of belonging."
"My father was insane."
"But he needed you. You filled a role in his life that became fulfilling for you too." When she snapped an outraged glare at him, he held up a hand, palm out. "I do not mean that you found enjoyment in luring those girls to him. I mean only that your subconscious recognized that you could provide him with happiness the way no one else could. He needed you, and in needing you he gave you a reason to experience power."
"Power," she repeated softly. A shiver rippled through her limbs. She gripped her hands in her lap, glad that he couldn't see them.
"What you are missing is power and a sense of control over your own life. Too many decisions have been made for you lately, placing you in a position of passivity."
"Maybe," she murmured.
"I think I may have a solution to your problem." Hannibal lifted a glass of ice wine to his lips, took a careful sip. "Do you trust me, Abigail?"
She knew if she said no he wouldn't kill her for the answer, but she still felt a frisson of unease as she stared into his eyes. "I trust you."
His smile, just a flicker, a flash of metal in the moonlight, eased her spine.
"Let me help you recover your power, Abigail," he said softly. "I believe I have just the thing."
~~~
Weeks passed and nothing changed.
Well, nothing besides the fact that Hannibal invited Will Graham over for dinner at least twice a week. Abigail was more surprised that the twitchy FBI agent accepted than that Hannibal wanted his company. She had seen the way Hannibal watched the younger man, though she hadn't put a motive to it until now.
Dinners were awkward, big surprise. She wasn't sure if she liked having Will over. Though she faintly resented his unsubtle desire to become her surrogate father, she found his earnestness oddly appealing. Hannibal didn't need anything from her. She doubted he had relied on anyone since he was a child. But Will was different. His need bled from his pores, even if he surrounded himself in emotional barbed wire. It was weird, really. How could you want but not take? Once she understood this about him she found herself watching him more closely, fascinated by the desperation he tried so hard to hide.
When Hannibal told her that Will knew about the murder she'd committed, her fear had nearly strangled her. But what had changed, really? The next time the three of them sat down to dinner, Abigail was hyperaware of Will, waiting for him to jump up and pull out handcuffs, or for him to yell at her for being a murderer, or for him to do anything. But beyond a few accusing, lingering looks, Will did nothing.
It was easier to eat dinner, then. Easier to swallow. Easier to breathe. Will would do nothing. Will wasn't a threat. If anything, Will was clearly more troubled by Nick Boyle than she was. It became a game for her sometimes to stare at him until his gaze skittered away. He'd fumble with his silverware or take a gulp of wine. It was almost fun to play with him this way.
She glanced up once after making Will clear his throat and rub his napkin over his lips for the third time and caught Hannibal watching the exchange. The corner of his mouth twitched and that was when Abigail understood.
~~~
One night after dessert, Hannibal invited Will to stay for drinks. Abigail hovered by the kitchen door, a half-dried plate in her hand as she eavesdropped.
"Thank you for the offer, Hannibal, but it's late and I--"
"It's Friday night. There are no new cases for you, Will. I would enjoy your company very much, if only for a few hours."
"It'll be midnight--"
"You are more than welcome to spend the night in the guest room."
Abigail held her breath during the silence that hovered.
"She craves the security of a family, Will." Hannibal's voice was seductive. Her fingers tightened around the plate. It was her secret that she found him attractive, if intimidating. She sometimes wished she could watch him masturbate. That way she could see him and still be safe.
Hannibal spoke again, his voice lower, deeper. Intimate. "When you take a stray into your home you spend time with it, don't you? Give it time to grow accustomed to your presence, prove to it that you mean it no harm."
"Abigail is not a dog." Will sounded offended on her behalf. She half-smiled. She might not be the dog but Will sometimes seemed like a puppy to her, yapping to sound tough, but ultimately craving a petting hand.
"No, she is our daughter, and you and Abigail need to become familiar with each other. We need to become a family."
The statement startled her. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, although her instinctive reaction wasn't negative. More like curiosity. A family with two dads? One a killer like she was, the other someone who could send them both to jail?
But she was beginning to think Will wasn't like that. Something about his reactions to Hannibal, the way he couldn't meet the doctor's eyes, the almost shy smiles he gave him...in the back of her mind she understood his behavior but she couldn't put her finger on it to label it. Will wouldn't hurt Hannibal, but Abigail wasn't yet sure why.
"Fine. Fine. I'll stay." Will sighed. He sounded tired. There were bags under eyes lately and he seemed to be more frazzled each time she saw him. Abigail could tell Hannibal noticed these things. She wondered what he intended to do about them since Hannibal now considered them a family.
The three of them retired to the living room, eschewing the formal sitting room where Hannibal usually entertained guests. Previously, only Abigail had sat with Hannibal in this room. It was a comfortable sanctuary for them. Will seemed surprised and wary as he sank back in the soft cushions of the sofa, making her almost smile where she stood in the doorway. This room reflected the private Hannibal. Well, as much as he allowed it to. Abigail doubted she had ever seen the real Hannibal. Maybe she never would, but that was okay; she liked this version well enough.
"Since it's just the three of us and Abigail is old enough." Hannibal handed out snifters and poured cognac.
"She's underage," Will muttered as he brought the glass to his lips and took a large swallow of the amber liquid.
Hannibal's mouth tightened at the disrespect to the liquor so Abigail made a show of warming the brandy, sniffing it first before taking a small taste. He gave her an approving nod and she smiled. He sat at one end of the sofa and it seemed natural that she should take the other end. Between them, Will noticed their positioning and stared into his snifter as if searching for the clues to a future homicide.
They drank in silence for several minutes, Hannibal shifting his gaze from Will's profile to her face, she doing the same but with Hannibal. Will gulped down his drink, stood up, poured himself another, and looked at no one.
Abigail realized she was drunk when she noticed she was staring at Will's throat. The wild thought entered her head that Hannibal probably fantasized about biting that throat. In truth, she wasn't sure about Hannibal's sexuality. He seemed too refined to want to fumble about with sex. Unless he could orchestrate it so it wasn't messy. If he could control the pace, every angle, every touch...
When she lifted her eyes she wasn't surprised to find Hannibal watching her. She took a deep breath, much as she had when she'd decided to dig up Nick Boyle's body, and swallowed the rest of her brandy in one gulp. She was warm and her mind was pleasantly hazy. Holding Hannibal's eyes, she set the glass on the end table behind her. Very slowly, she licked her lips.
Hannibal's smile was a suggestion on his face. He mimicked her actions with the brandy and turned sideways on the sofa, his right knee drawn up and resting on the cushion, nearly touching Will's hip. Will's eyes flicked down to it. His shoulders rounded, just barely.
Abigail knew it was her turn. She was wearing a red cardigan. Blood red, actually. She had intuited that it was Hannibal's favorite color. She reached up, making sure Will noticed her movements, and slipped the top two buttons of the sweater open, baring her throat and collarbones.
At the last second her nerves failed her. "It's hot," she murmured, self-conscious. "Isn't it?"
Hannibal appeared amused. Will's eyes jumped frantically away from her bared skin.
"Must be the alcohol," he mumbled. "You shouldn't be drinking at your age."
It sounded like something a father would say. Like he cared about her. She liked it.
On the other end of the sofa, Hannibal raised his arm and rested it along the back of the sofa. It brought his fingers close to Will's shoulder and caused the man to hunch forward even further. Will wore a hideous sweater, something Abigail's grandfather might have worn. As Abigail watched, Hannibal lowered his hand from the back of the sofa and rested it high on Will's back, near the nape of his neck.
Will didn't startle as she'd expected. Instead, he froze like a rabbit. He remained that way as Hannibal's fingers moved once, twice, gently brushing across the cheap acrylic, inches from the too-long curls of Will's hair.
Abigail could hear herself breathing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the drama playing out across Will's face. She could tell he wanted to slide out from under Hannibal's hand, wanted to shoot to his feet and bolt from the house. A drop of sweat glimmered at his temple. As it began to slide down his skin, Hannibal murmured, "Shhh," and laid his hand flat on Will's back, soothing.
Possessive.
Something sour crossed Abigail's tongue. Without thinking, without caring about the consequences, she slid forward and touched those messy brown curls near Will's face. This time he did startle, his head twisting, green eyes rounding in shocked confusion.
"Abigail--" he began but she cut him off with the finger of her other hand, her own boldness making her heart pound like a wild, cornered beast's. Only this time she wasn't the cornered one. This time it was Will, and the experience was euphoric.
"Shh," she said, breathless to be mimicking Hannibal's actions, his power. She leaned forward to kiss the caged, tremulous prey in front of her.
But Will jerked back.
"Abigail, this isn't appropriate," he said sharply. Eyes wild, he caught both of her wrists in his and held them away from him. "I am your--your father." His cheeks flushed at the stumble but his grip remained firm. "You're just confused right now. It's understandable."
She hated his reaction. She felt like a little girl, like her real father's daughter, helpless to do anything except survive. Just as she began to redden with shame, Hannibal sat forward and pressed himself to Will's back.
Will froze, his gaze locked with Abigail's. She saw everything then: shock, mortification, discomfort, and hidden far, far beneath the others--arousal. It was a revelation to her.
"Will, you are making Abigail doubt herself," Hannibal murmured into the other man's ear, his breath stirring the same curls that she had just touched. Through the grip on her wrists she felt the violent tremor that shook Will.
"This isn't right," Will tried again, his voice shaking. "She's barely more than a child. She's--she's traumatized. She doesn't know what she's doing."
"Is this true, Abigail?"
She found her voice as two sets of eyes pinned her. "I'm not a child. I know what I'm doing. What I--want." Now that she'd said it she understood that it was true. She wanted.
Hannibal slid his hands up to Will's tense shoulders. "You are her father. A good father gives a daughter what she needs to be happy. To be strong."
Will gave a wild-sounding laugh. "How is this making her strong?"
"Because no one's forcing me," she said softly. Tears jumped to her eyes. She didn't know where the emotion came from but it was overpowering. Deep-rooted. She blinked hard. A single tear slid down her cheek. "For once this is my choice."
Will's face crumbled. He was younger than she'd first thought. Much younger than Hannibal, who seemed ageless and worldly. It enflamed her need to have him, to affect him.
"I need you," she whispered. "Please...Will."
He swallowed. His eyes were tortured, holding hers with a plea to stop this as Hannibal slid his hands slowly down Will's biceps and forearms until he curled his hands around Will's wrists. She couldn't be merciful. That wasn't what this was about. Hannibal's small smile said so.
"Let go," Abigail whispered.
Trembling between them, Will released her. He stared at her, distressed, as Hannibal guided his arms down and behind him until they rested at the small of his back. Hannibal held them there and something within Abigail whispered a thrilled, Oh.
Will turned his face away and averted his gaze. A blush burned hot on his cheekbones. "I don't understand this," he choked out.
Hannibal's mouth was at his ear again as he murmured, "You will."
Abigail waited for Hannibal to look up and give her permission. When he did, she reached out to gently cup Will's jaw and chin. He shut his eyes, but that was alright. She liked that. He was vulnerable. When was the last time anyone quailed because of her?
With her thumbs she traced his cheekbones, grazed the stubble on his cheeks that he probably didn't realize was attractive on him. He probably didn't know a lot about the effect he had on people. She admitted she'd missed it initially too. Now that she had him at her mercy she saw what Hannibal must have seen all along.
She leaned forward by degrees, knowing Will was aware of the movement, that he'd tensed against Hannibal in anticipation of her touching him. With her mouth millimeters from the corner of his mouth she paused and simply breathed. Will trembled like a flag in a breeze.
In the silence she heard Hannibal inhale. He could have been excited or he could have been smelling Will. Hannibal was kind of strange that way but she wasn't one to judge. Besides, it turned her on to think that Hannibal could smell Will's arousal, that it heightened his own. In this way she was giving a gift to all of them. Like they were a family that shared.
Will's mouth, which had been pursed tight, gradually loosened as the seconds passed. She watched his eyes move behind his shut eyelids before his lips grew softer. Eventually they parted and a single exhalation escaped him. She sealed her mouth over his and slipped her tongue between his lips before he could stop her.
In exchange for her tongue he gave her a strangled moan to savor and swallow. She forced his face around so she could deepen the kiss. It was her first time being aggressive with a boy--with a man--and she half-expected him to take over like the others had. But Will was Will. He was the man who had allowed Hannibal to bully him into not turning Abigail over to the police. Something like pushing her tongue out of his mouth just wasn't something he was capable of doing. It made her grow warm and moist. She clutched his face a little tighter, fingers digging into his skin in her greed. She thrust her tongue in deeper, filling his mouth, and he gasped and took all of her as if he could do nothing else.
Her ache grew. His unexpected submission did crazy things to her body. Squeezing her thighs around the throbbing wasn't enough. It was instinct--don't think!--to rise up and crawl forward to straddle his turned knees. He bucked once but Hannibal held him still beneath her as she found the hardness in his lap and settled her heat over it. She was so glad she'd worn a skirt. The barrier of her panties was no barrier at all as she ground down over him, rubbing her clit against him.
He made another noise into her mouth. It sounded desperate. Tortured. She broke away from his gasping mouth to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his temple--every inch of bare skin above that ugly sweater no matter how much he tried to strain away from her. She didn't feel bad that he struggled because she could feel his panting breaths against the top of her head, his heaving chest against her breasts. And then there was the matter of his erection, which told her how much he enjoyed this even if he didn't think he should.
A muffled groan ruffled her hair. There was a tenor to it that caused her to raise her head. What she saw made her moan. Hannibal acknowledged her reaction with a glance before returning his attention to Will, whose ear he was rhythmically tongue-fucking.
Abigail had never seen two men being intimate, not in real life anyway. She'd seen plenty of YouTube videos of boys kissing boys sent to her by girlfriends. This was different. These were men. Hannibal was old enough to be her real dad and Will was close enough. Hannibal wasn't giving Will a sloppy adolescent kiss: too fast, too wet, too selfish. Each dip of his tongue into the whorl of Will's ear was slow, deliberate, designed to push the breath from Will's throat, which it did with every languid thrust. Will's brows were knitted, his lower lip clutched beneath his teeth. He looked like he was in pain except his hips moved beneath Abigail, pushing up for friction that was maddening.
"I need..." Her whisper trailed off. She didn't know who she was talking to.
But Hannibal had heard her. "Take what you need from him, Abigail." He withdrew his tongue to bite lightly, and not so lightly, on the cartilage in Will's ear. "Will loves you. He is happy to accommodate you."
Will finally opened his eyes, though Abigail wasn't sure he was actually seeing anything. Dazed, his pupils blown, he struggled to focus. "Abi--" he started. Then he shuddered when Hannibal's tongue dipped inside his ear again. "Hannibal," he gasped. "This--"
"Is precisely what you need, Will. What Abigail needs." Hannibal's eyes dipped shut in a momentary surrender. "What we all need."
Abigail shivered. She hadn't expected to find Hannibal so intensely sexy, and seeing him controlling Will made her yearn to be like him. Her panties were soaked and her nipples sparked with each breath. She fell back against the arm of the sofa and kicked off her shoes. Hannibal watched her yank down her underwear and fling them off and she wasn't even embarrassed when his eyes flicked beneath her skirt. It felt naughty and empowering, knowing he wanted to look, that he wanted to see her.
Will had gone back to scrunching up his eyes although she noticed his head had fallen back and was resting on Hannibal's shoulder, baring the side of his face and the entire curve of his neck to whoever wanted it. She hadn't known she'd wanted his surrender until he gave it to her. To them.
Bare beneath her skirt, she crawled over his lap again. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. His shoulders strained and she wondered if he wanted to help her or stop her. Hannibal wouldn't allow them to find out. He dragged his lips down Will's throat as he kept the other man restrained. When Abigail finally opened the belt and dragged down the zipper on his pants Will heaved upwards, nearly throwing her off.
"Stop," Will managed to gasp, lifting his head. Lucidity swam to the surface of his glazed green eyes. "We're going too far. I can't--I can't let this happen. Alanna--"
Abigail grabbed a fistful of his hair, shocking them both. Over Will's shoulder, Hannibal merely smiled. "Alanna's not your girlfriend," Abigail said to Will. "You don't have anyone but us."
He frowned, incredulity leaking into his eyes. Abigail didn't want to see it there. She shoved her other hand into the slit of his boxers and cupped him. Will's eyes widened before they slammed shut. She kept the tight grip on his hair as she combed her fingers through his pubes, teasing him, making this grown man, this FBI agent, tremble beneath her.
"Abigail, please," he panted.
"Please what?" she demanded, pulling his head back so his throat arched.
Hannibal, a dark shadow behind Will's head, wore a sickle smile.
"Just, please..."
Will couldn't finish the sentence. Abigail wasn't upset. His helplessness was sexy even if he was embarrassed by it. Maybe his reluctance made it even moreso. She rewarded him by wrapping her hand around his cock.
He bit off a moan as she began to stroke the hot length of him. The tip of him was wet, which she hoped meant he was excited by what they were doing. She was definitely wet. Stroking him and making him strain beneath her was making her even wetter.
Hannibal shifted behind Will, his eyes on Abigail. He reached around Will and held a condom out to her. It was his blessing for the natural next step. It also told her that he'd planned every part of this. That was a turn-on, actually, knowing that he'd imagined them together this way, probably masturbated to the fantasy, to images of her...
Wordless, she took the packet...and discovered it was nearly impossible to open with one hand.
"I suggest using your teeth," Hannibal offered.
Will opened his eyes then. He cursed as he watched Abigail tear the packet open with her teeth. He kept his jaw clenched as she took the condom and clumsily rolled it down his cock, but she could tell he was agonizing over this.
Too bad for him.
She sank down over him slowly. There was still some pain when she took a guy into herself and this time was no different. But Will unwittingly provided a visual distraction as he strained beneath her, the cords in his neck jumping out. His nostrils flared as she took him inch by slow inch. When she was almost there he lost control and thrust upwards into her, pulling a shocked gasp from her.
Remorse jumped to his face but she didn't let it live there long. Gripping him by the hair and shoulder she rose up and then sank down again. She ground down over Will, pushing the tip of his cock where she needed it, rubbing her clit against his pubic hair. She threw back her head as electricity sizzled up the backs of her legs and through the base of her spine. Her movements were slow at first, but began to speed up as sensation roiled and boiled within her.
Beneath her, Will was becoming a gasping, groaning wreck, his upper body completely supported by Hannibal now, who didn't seem to mind as he sucked dark marks into Will's neck. Hannibal's free hand roamed over Will's chest, fingers dancing over the peaked points of his nipples, teasing them through the sweater he wore and making Will grimace and twist.
It made Abigail jealous so she let go of Will long enough to yank her own cardigan up and over her head, flinging it off somewhere in the room. Her bra followed.
She grabbed Will's hair again, startling his eyes open, and ordered breathlessly, "Lick me."
Will groaned as he stared at her tight, small breasts bobbing in front of his face.
"Put your mouth on her, Will." Hannibal's voice was warm honey, pouring over Will and Abigail, binding them together. Her body broke out in a heated flush as Hannibal's dark eyes roamed over her.
"I can't," Will gasped, but he licked his lips, his eyes riveted to her left breast where her nipple was a tight pink berry in its center.
Abigail lost her patience and yanked on his hair, making him grunt. His cock swelled within her. "You like that," she said. It was sort of funny and sort of hot that he got off on her dominating him. Lucky for him she liked it too.
He refused to meet her eyes--a voice in her head whispered, submissive!, so she tugged harder on his hair, forcing his face to her chest.
"Lick it," she ordered more firmly. He groaned against her skin. Inspiration struck. "Pretend it's the tip of Hannibal's cock."
A palpable sense of horror fell over Will. Abigail stilled, fearing she'd screwed it all up, taken them all out of the moment. Where had that come from? Just because Will was too befuddled to really think about who was licking his ear didn't mean he was ready to suck--
Hannibal calmly leaned up to murmur against Will's cheek, "It wouldn't be the first time. Would it, Will?"
It was Abigail's turn to suck in her breath.
Panicked, Will tried to shake his head within her grasp. "I don't know what you're t-talking about. I've never--never done anything like that."
"Not yet you haven't," Hannibal acknowledged. He brushed his cheek alongside Will's, his hand wrapping around the other man's chest in an embrace. "It has never been the gender that has prevented you from partaking. It has always been the fear of losing yourself to their control. Or should I say, the appeal of it." His tongue flicked out like a snake's, touching Will's bottom lip. "You are safe with us, Will. What you enjoy here, with your family, will always be sacred."
"I'm not gay," Will ground out, but he was still hard inside Abigail and she tentatively began to move again, clenching and releasing around him. His green eyes shot to her accusingly. She gave him a small, unrepentant grin in return.
"Labels mean nothing, Will." Hannibal flattened his hand on Will's stomach and began to slide it down to where Abigail rode him. "This is about finding pleasure in honesty."
"No..." Will gritted out. The protest was breathy, evaporating instantly. Abigail and Hannibal ignored it.
Hannibal was smiling as he reached between Will and Abigail, slender fingers exploring the firm inch of flesh that Abigail's body didn't quite swallow. "I find no shame in taking pleasure with you and Abigail. You shouldn't either. No one is judging anyone in this room. This is a place of safety." His fingertip circled the base of Will's cock. "A place for surrender."
Abigail moved with speed and purpose again, confident that Will wanted this as badly as Hannibal suggested he did. Thank god, because she was sure she was going to climax soon. The fleeting touches of Hannibal's fingers as he touched Will made her body writhe. She ached for him to touch her clit, and his wicked glance at her face told her he was aware of her need but chose to leave it unfulfilled for now.
"You carry too much on your shoulders, Will." Will's body began to undulate against Abigail. At the same time a whimper slipped from between his lips. It took her a few moments to realize that his body was being moved by Hannibal, who was thrusting against Will from behind. "It would be therapeutic to release that burden and allow us to carry it for you."
"Hannibal...please."
"Tell me what you want," Hannibal whispered as he continued to drive himself against Will's ass.
In answer he received a stubborn, almost childish shake of Will's head. Abigail would have found it funny but right now she just wanted to come.
"Hannibal," she moaned urgently.
He understood her predicament. With an indulgent smile at her, he said, "Use him as you need, Abigail. You are in control here."
She didn't question it. Not for a second. She jerked Will to her breast, let out a choked cry as his lips coiled around her nipple and sucked. His gasping breaths burned her skin but his tongue -- oh, god, his tongue. When it swiped across her, Hannibal, as if connected psychically to Will, flicked the tip of his finger against her clit. With a squeal Abigail came, clamping down hard around Will's throbbing cock.
Curled over his head, she shuddered as waves of pleasure rolled through her. She could see down Will's back from this angle. Through slitted eyelids she watched Hannibal roll his hips into Will, firm and sensually. He was going to fuck Will at some point, she realized. The bolt of desire that shot through her at the thought caught her by surprise.
She lifted her head, brushed the damp strands of hair from her face and panted to Hannibal, "I want to be here when you do it."
Hannibal, ever perceptive, merely smiled.
Will was still moving, thrusting inside her, but Abigail rose up. Instinctively she knew she couldn't cuddle with him. Not yet, even though when she collapsed back on the sofa's arm she was met with the sight of a strung-out Will Graham who was desperate for her touch.
"Abigail," he gasped. "I still...I need you."
Hannibal slowed his thrusts against Will as if waiting for her cue. It was surprisingly easy to decide what to do next.
"No," she said clearly even though her body was still humming with aftershocks from her orgasm.
"You're not allowed to come tonight. Maybe next time."
Something flashed across Will's agonized face but to her frustration she didn't know if it was disappointment, relief or something else. He shut his eyes and ducked his head, chest rising and falling with great breaths as if he was collecting himself. Behind him, Hannibal ceased moving and held Will almost comfortingly.
Abigail couldn't help herself. She crawled forward again until she was sitting beside Will and wrapped her arms around his waist. His breath hitched as she rested her cheek against his abdomen, but she whispered soothing nothings to him and gradually, his desperate shivers tapered off. When his cock began to soften, she was the first to see it happen.
Will wouldn't meet their gazes when, minutes later, he reached down for his pants. His hands hovered above his opened fly. Abigail's breath caught in her chest when he murmured, almost inaudibly, "May I?"
Abigail spoke before Hannibal could. "You may."
Head down, with her and Hannibal still wrapped around him, Will tucked himself away and fixed his clothing. His hands came to rest on his thighs as if he didn't know what else to do with them. Abigail was seized with a sudden, irrational urge to tie him up and stash him in her closet so she could torment him whenever she chose.
"I think it's all time that we rested," Hannibal spoke up.
Reluctantly Abigail released Will and sat up. She had enjoyed holding him. Maybe there was a hint of disappointment on Hannibal's face too as he stood. His hand dropped lightly to Will's shoulder and squeezed.
"The guest room has been prepared for you, Will. Breakfast is served at eight."
He turned to leave so Abigail hurriedly stood and fetched her clothes. She tried to be cool about it but ended up clutching the sweater to her chest, feeling awkward.
"You don't think--you don't think that what we just did--that it wasn't crazy?" Will asked in a distraught voice as she and Hannibal stepped towards the doorway leading to the bedrooms.
Hannibal took his time in turning back to face the other man. Will was hunched, his head in his hands.
"Crazy is repeating the same actions and expecting different results, Will." Hannibal smiled faintly as he took in Will's bowed head. "You have fallen into a rut in your life and it is slowly killing you. I refuse to allow it to continue." He hesitated before adding, "Abigail and I intend to save you because we are your family and we care for you. Sleep well, Will."
Will lifted his head, his doe eyes glimmering. His lips moved but whatever he said was indecipherable. Abigail forced herself to follow Hannibal out of the room.
At her bedroom door Hannibal cupped the back of her head and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. It was a promise, one that she clutched with both hands.
That night Abigail dreamed of her real father, and she killed him.