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Hannibal
The last time Alcuin had spotted Hannibal he was speaking with Eliot, and Alcuin had wanted to give him that space. So he'd slipped to the side for a moment, checking his phone, when a familiar voice caught at the edge of his spine.
"Alcuin," the man said, with the slow drawl of someone who always expects to be welcomed.
Alcuin froze. Then slowly turned.
Roger Carrick. Still bronzed, still smiling like the world owed him forgiveness for the things he never admitted.
Alcuin didn’t speak. Just looked at him.
"You look good," Roger said. “Didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve really grown into your own.”
Alcuin’s mouth curled, faintly. “I wasn’t a child when we met.”
Roger chuckled, as if it were a joke. “No. No, I suppose you weren’t.”
A beat. Just long enough for discomfort to settle.
“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” Roger added, voice going a little quieter, as if afraid they'd be overheard. “There’s a new project I think you’d be perfect for.”
Alcuin’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’m not interested.”
"You don’t even want to hear about it?"
“I don’t take meetings in hotel rooms anymore,” Alcuin said calmly.
The words landed with precision—gentle in tone, surgical in intent.
There was a flash of anger across Roger's face, and then he reached out and grabbed Alcuin's arm. "I don't know what you're getting at, but if you're thinking of dragging me into some me too bullshit - "
"Alcuin," the man said, with the slow drawl of someone who always expects to be welcomed.
Alcuin froze. Then slowly turned.
Roger Carrick. Still bronzed, still smiling like the world owed him forgiveness for the things he never admitted.
Alcuin didn’t speak. Just looked at him.
"You look good," Roger said. “Didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve really grown into your own.”
Alcuin’s mouth curled, faintly. “I wasn’t a child when we met.”
Roger chuckled, as if it were a joke. “No. No, I suppose you weren’t.”
A beat. Just long enough for discomfort to settle.
“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” Roger added, voice going a little quieter, as if afraid they'd be overheard. “There’s a new project I think you’d be perfect for.”
Alcuin’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’m not interested.”
"You don’t even want to hear about it?"
“I don’t take meetings in hotel rooms anymore,” Alcuin said calmly.
The words landed with precision—gentle in tone, surgical in intent.
There was a flash of anger across Roger's face, and then he reached out and grabbed Alcuin's arm. "I don't know what you're getting at, but if you're thinking of dragging me into some me too bullshit - "
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"Yes," Hannibal conceded, because he wanted to feel him.
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Hannibal didn't slow down, but continued to chase his own pleasure. Which didn't take all that long. He came with a strained growl, Alcuin's name on his lips.
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Hannibal kissed him gently this time, on the spot where he had very nearly drawn blood and held him close.
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Hannibal held him as he settled. He chuckled. "Yes, I believe so."