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copyright 2003, by Mel

Disclaimer:    These characters were created by Thomas Harris.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

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Of those two days, forever lost to the FBI, Clarice remembered feeling more safe in the company of Lecter, and more at home than she had ever felt before in her lifetime. He had been the only solid shape in her world, the only thing she felt she could rely on not to change before her very eyes. Her attempted rescue had been her last ditch effort to save the one constant in her life, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Sat at her cramped desk in the Arlington duplex, Starling took another swallow of her club soda, willing the nausea down, and allowed the memories to play over…


"Why do you think you always did as you were told, Clarice?"

"Until now, you mean?" She gave a half-hearted laugh. "I have no idea. I guess I felt secure in the system."

They sat in armchairs facing one another, it was a clear, bright afternoon and the chill air was kept at bay by a gently crackling fire in the hearth.

"Secure in what way?"

"In that it was public, that everybody had to answer to somebody, there was no gray."

"The checks and balances in place were a solid frame-work, you enjoyed playing by the rules, didn't you Clarice? With everybody abiding by those rules you had as good a shot as anybody. You were an equal-"

"But not everybody played by the rules." Clarice finished for him. She paused, holding her breath for a second. He waited. "What do we do now?" She raised her eyes and looked at him, her expression slightly sad.

"What do you mean?" His velvety voice lacked any hint of surprise. He knew what she meant, but that it was important that she voice it herself.

"I don't want to turn you in. But I can't stay here for much longer either."

"You can't stay there either, Clarice."

She nodded, agreeing.

"I'm an agent only by title, now. This-" she gestured to the two of them, "changes everything. Even if they wanted me back now…."

"You never would have won Clarice." He interrupted. "You would have gone on beating your pretty little head against the wall, the glass ceiling, whatever…"

She smiled at him, still sadly, knowing that very shortly she would have to leave the only person in the world who had ever understood her, who had ever really meant something to her. As if reading her mind, he spoke.

"We could have our moment in the sun, Clarice, but it would be so brilliant it would burn itself out in too short a time for my liking, and we would both be finished up, rotting in some cell for the rest of our long lives." A pause. "It has to be this way."

One tear escaped from each eye and tumbled down her cheeks. He was suddenly out of his seat and kneeling before her.

"Clarice, there is no need to be sad." He leaned in and kissed each damp cheek.

"But you're the only person who gives a damn about me, and I couldn't care less about anybody but you."

The Doctor's chest rose and fell slowly with a deep sigh.

"I don't want to go back to prison, Clarice. And I can assure you it is not something you would want to experience either. I'm being as honest with you as I know how. I don't want to hurt your feelings but-" His words were silenced by her lips on his. Surprised, it was a moment before he returned the kiss.

Clarice's mind reeled with pleasure as she felt his soft lips moving gently against hers, felt his hand come up behind her head and hold her steady. She knew she should be afraid, but fear was not an emotion that had been familiar to her for some time. Her sense of justice had over-ridden her fear at taking on Mason's Sards, and her sense of what she deserved, what was just and fair for herself, negated any fear she might feel now. All she knew was how right this felt, the connection between two people elbowed from the pack, shunned and chased away, an embarrassment, a danger, a liability. None of this mattered as they poured their feelings into the kiss, a heady cocktail of sweet and bitter that made Clarice a little faint, and Doctor Lecter more than a little aroused. He hummed low in his throat as they parted at last.

"Clarice," his voice was husky as he looked at her under hooded lids. "Above all else in a person I appreciate the capacity to surprise me. Thank you."

She smiled weakly in return, swallowing hard and wondering how she could ask for more of his wonderful attentions without appearing base and needy. It quickly became apparent she had no such dilemma to solve, as he stood, pulling her to her feet with him, and led her out of the lounge and up the stairs.

As they crossed the threshold of the master bedroom, all pretence at restraint was abandoned. He turned her to him sharply and pulled her close, his eyes hungrily reading her expression. His hands were hot on her waist as he paused, silently searching her expression, asking her permission to continue. Her response was to tug his shirt open, buttons popping and pinging in all directions. Clarice had never physically been on the receiving end of Lecter's strength and intent until now, and as she was forced backwards and down onto the bed, stumbling to keep her footing, she felt a rush of pleasure at being so hopelessly dominated. His demeanor had changed from wonder to hunger in a heartbeat. She welcomed his weight atop of her, ready to be devoured, as he came down and began blazing a fiery trail of kisses along her jawline and down her neck. She was aching for him to fill her, to take her as his own; a raw animal passion she had never before experienced was pushing all other thoughts from her mind.

Lecter lathed his tongue along Clarice's collarbone, feeling her stretch and rise beneath him. He captured a nipple in his teeth, gently, through the fabric of her shirt, and had to close his eyes tightly to keep control of himself, as she let out a breathy sigh of pleasure. He had been intimate with many women, but not for some time, and none like this - not with anybody who knew who he really was. This added dimension was provocative and heady. He had given up all hope of ever experiencing a close relationship again in his lifetime. Clarice Starling was a precious gift, and one he meant to appreciate to his last ounce of strength, while he still had her. Slipping one hand inside her shirt he delighted in the hot smoothness concealed there. Perhaps he had imagined scenarios, exchanges before, certainly he had imagined fucking her, but the reality blew away all those fantasies like so much dust in the wind. It took him a moment to realize that she was speaking through her haze of pleasure, whispering to him.

"I need you…. I need you now…" The last word ended on a wail, and he was powerless to deny her. Quickly they both divested themselves of their garments and he loomed over her once again, looking down at his Clarice, pink in cheek and chest.

"I would like to remember you Clarice, forever, as you look now." He spoke hoarsely, his fingers stroking down her abdomen, lower, lower, until they made contact with her most sensitive part. An electric jolt passed through her and, satisfied, he positioned himself over her. Ex-special agent Starling closed her eyes as he bore down and entered her in one smooth movement. He started a slow rhythm and they rocked against one another, his mouth on hers swallowing any noises that escaped her.

Clarice felt the swelling wave of ecstasy spreading from her center, spreading from his movement, his phallus filling her so completely. He sensed her approaching climax and it seemed to excite him all the more, his tempo increased and she felt him swell inside of her and knew that he was close too.

"Doctor…" barely a whisper.

"Hannibal….it's Hannibal.." he responded, wanting to laugh but unable to concentrate on anything else except the singular feeling of being deeply inside of her.

"Hannibal…I'm…" but she never finished the sentence. Her expression was fascinating to him, almost a look of pain, of fear, came over her face, and he felt her squeezing him, felt her vulva pulse around his manhood and watched her expression dissolve into ecstasy. Her quiet cries of pleasure became louder sobs and he was a finished man. His orgasm came upon him with a force he was unprepared for and he lurched, spilling his seed deep inside her. He let out a long growl of surprised pleasure and buried his face in her neck, as they both rode the crest of their torrid joining.

Clarice found the good Doctor surprisingly pliable as she nudged him so they could roll and lay on their sides facing one another. She stroked his face and smiled at him tiredly, a little sadly. He returned her cockeyed grin. Neither really wanted to speak. What was there to say? He kissed her on the forehead, and they drifted off into an uneasy sleep, not to wake until darkness had fallen completely outside the window.


PART 2 of 5

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