copyright 2003, by Mel
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
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?"
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.
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.
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.
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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