copyright 1999, by Leeker17
The air outside is soft and sweet, unusual for the time of year in Buenos Aires. Above the night air more scents can be detected with the slightest up turning of the nose. Aromas of spices and delicate sauces and the tangy smell of sizzling meat are in the air.
High above on a grand balcony two figures can be seen; a woman seated at a small, intimate dining placement, a trim man with a noble carriage lords over a proverbial kingdom of sauces, pans and cooking. For a moment the man disappears back into the house, Only to reappear like an apparition a moment later with a bottle in hand. It is possible to detect slight notes of music floating on the breeze. At first glance the woman appears to have been clothed in a layer of congealed blood. But, in all reality it is a crimson evening gown, gathered almost modestly at the throat, sleeveless, gold braided patterns entwine and embrace the lower one-third of the gown. The lean dark-haired man; equally striking in jet black trousers and blazer while underneath a turtle-neck plays twin reflection and counterpart to the lady’s crimson dress. Moonlight plays off the wine and a pleasant popping sound of cork is present. An intimate interlude is about to begin.
Hannibal Lecter walked soundlessly over to Clarice Starling and poured a generous amount of amber colored liquid into the crystal stemmed glass. Lecter noted with satisfaction how light the wine looked in contrast Clarice’s dress. The wine was actually a rather deep maroon color but appeared amber in comparison. It was quite a striking difference and similarity tangled together. Clarice had been preoccupied with watching bats take chase after darting mosquitoes and slow, clumsy moths. She watched until a bat succeeded in over-taking and devouring a moth.
“Hungry this evening Clarice?” before she could form a reply to the odd question he finished for her, “You don’t seem to be. Your appetites are rather dour this evening…like yourself.” She noted the emphasis placed on the plural aspect of appetites. “Clarice you seem uncomfortable, tired, tense, need I go on?”
Starling closed her eyes and turned away from him she was trying to control difficult hungers. Starling acknowledged ruefully to herself that she was quite hungry this evening but not for nourishment. No, this hunger was more infuriating, more primal. It was more than a primal urge, more than a desire, more than hunger, less than love, ‘twas a need. She smiled to herself; what wanted and required this evening was a dish best served in bed not on a balcony though any place would do she added wickedly.
Clarice felt Lecter’s gaze upon her and took her time in turning to face him. When she did and looked up Starling saw a bemused smile on his face. Starling sighed in frustration and anticipation; Dr. Lecter knew what she had been thinking and what she wanted. He would make her wait the reward for patience was increased pleasure. Hannibal smiled, walked to her and ran a hand lightly over he shoulder, making her shiver, then went back to his pans.
“Dinner smells delightful Clarice, but, you would much prefer dessert wouldn’t you?"
Starling smiled slyly and purred.
"I think you already know the answer don’t you? Why don’t you come over here and start the real cooking?”
Lecter made a show of a deep sigh.
“Tsk, tsk, have you learned nothing my dear? Dessert before the main course is utterly atrocious.” He grinned, “Would you care for an appetizer to tide you over?”
“Oh yes!” she whispered huskily and stepped close enough to feel his warm breath.
“Close your eyes Clarice and open your mouth.” She felt her pulse quicken in anticipation. ‘Open your mouth” she did so and waited for the delightful preview of things to follow. Salt, smoothness filled her mouth and it took a moment for her to realize she had bitten into a cracker with pate. Clarice stood a moment disoriented and disappointed. A finger not belonging to her wiped a crumb from her lips and lingered over for a caress. Lecter stood in composed patience and said low and even “Sit down Clarice and we will eat.” Then he gave her a helpful push back to her seat.
Dinner was delightfully, sinful, pleasurable experience for Dr. Lecter for Clarice it was a slow torturous affair. She had no real intention of eating. Lecter took note of the fact she had hardly touched her food, “If you do not eat your dinner no dessert for you.” Clarice looked down at the roasted duck and crisp asparagus and decided it looked appetizing. “Good girl, you might need your energy this evening” Lecter trailed off. The smile on his face turned to frown when he tasted to sauce-it was cold. He went to his sauce--pan and turned up the temperature.
“Clarice come here please I require your assistance, please come here.” Starling walked to him and he dipped a finger into the dark, rich, sauce. Clarice stood so close she could feel his breath and hear his exhalations. He brought it to her mouth to be tasted. Clarice delicately trapped it in her mouth and licked it clean. She kept it in her mouth long after it was clean.
“Umm. Delicious.” Lecter freed his hand from her mouth and sent her back to her seat.
“All good things to those who wait Clarice.” He watched her return to her seat then closed fought the hunger threatening to burn through him. The hunger was one not sated by gourmet delights. But, the game couldn’t end yet it was too much fun!
Clarice had closed her eyes and never heard Lecter come up to her and whisper into her ear only warm breath and then, “Ready for desert Clarice? I am so very ready.” She started to stand but, arms pinned her to her chair. His hands slid up her arms and caressed her hair and shoulders. Instinctively she tipped her neck back. His head bent low and nipped at her sensitive neck causing pain and pleasure to flirt with each other.
“Clarice ready for dessert?” In reply she took his hand a placed it on her breast. When he did nothing save let his hand hang limply she answered,
“Yes indeed.” Lecter’s head bent low to ear licking and nibbling it, “Wonderful! I’ll go get it now.”
Clarice felt cold on her shoulders where warmth had once been; a long sigh of longing escaped her lips. Until she heard low chuckling from the shadows. He whispered softly to her, “Shall we end this part of the game Clarice? I think a more appropriate level of play is appropriate.” “Yes Hannibal, how about the third floor bedrooms?” “Very good idea, Clarice.”
She felt breath again at her neck as he held her against him. Her back pressed all along his body, for a few moments he busied himself by smelling her clean, fresh hair and nuzzling her neck. Together they stood and mutually agreed to segue inside. Once inside he turned he to him and claimed her mouth as his own. Lecter’s tongue slid between the inviting opening and met Clarice’s tongue. His lips surrendered to a questing tongue, as she drew him closer for an even deeper kiss.
Together they made their way up the stairs to the bedroom. In a low beckoning voice, “Clarice come to me.” Arms entwined, bodies melded, clothes no longer needed began to be disregarded and discarded. The dress came off and Starling felt cool air on heated flesh, a hand warmed her cool breasts. She made a low sound in her throat and gave in, as Hannibal rubbed and caressed her aching nipples. Lecter bent his head to take a firm, lush breast in mouth. It was so tempting to continue the teasing torment but, Lecter knew he could only stand so much of his own games before desires needed to filled. There would be many other nights to tease and taunt and learn patience in bed but, not tonight.
With that he ran a hand down her stomach feeling the tense muscles there. The hand made a lazy journey back to her breast and settled there. His hands caressed her back and slid down to cup her bottom and pull her against him. Clarice moaned when she felt him against her hips. Everything was so close. He allowed her hands to remove his jacket and turtle-- neck. Hands slid up to caress his chest, then finally stopped around his neck. She pulled him closer enjoying the feel of his firm, lean frame against her. Clarice pulled his mouth to hers and he allowed her this power.
Lips and tongues met again sweet wine scented breath mixed with cream flavored tongue. Clarice ran a hand down his chest to his trousers and caressed his length through them; the touch was a light feathery, teasing touch that made him wish for more. Together they lay down on the bed kissing, touching, and moving. Clarice moaned softly when no clothing was between them. Her insides were on fire and only a more consuming fire could quench the thirst. Hannibal’s hand found her insides and caressed her while she writhed beneath him. Her hand found him and touched him, stoking his fire more. When she could no longer take it she opened thighs to him. Gladly he took the invitation and found shelter in her welcoming warmth. Need overtook any extra pleasure he moved deep within her once and she moaned and let waves roll over her. He came deep within her, hungers sated and satisfied.
Clarice rested her head on his shoulder and nipped at his neck. He flinched ever subtly then satisfied with petty retribution, nuzzled against Lecter. He smiled, cradled his head against a pillow, and found sleep. Hannibal awoke in the nether hours of morning listening, feeling, touching, and planning. On a whim he ran his hand lightly over her breast. Clarice’s body shifted then settled again as the teasing touch faded. Lecter smiled then allowed his hand to brush her thigh; at this Clarice moaned and awoke. Slowly she felt her body respond to him. Clarice insinuated herself all along his body and began to kiss and love his chest and neck.
“Umm. Clarice are you hungry now?”
“Oh yes, Hannibal I’m starved”, she said teasingly. Starling felt him rise,
“Excellent, I shall go make breakfast then!” As he pulled a robe on a wicked grin of malicious glee filled and lighted his face. “Fresh orange juice with breakfast?” The only response came in the form of a low groan from the bed.
copyright 1999, by Leeker17
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