copyright 2000, by Hannah
Jack Crawford switches the tape off. He had expected to see a murder, perhaps even torture. That he was prepared for... but not this. He sits for a moment, staring at the blank screen.
No one has heard from Starling since Sunday. Her roommate, Agent Mapp, told him that she left in a hurry but wouldn’t say where she was off to. She has not been home since.
The tape is from an office building in the downtown area. Mapp found the address scribbled on a scrap of paper on Starling’s desk. They found nothing out of the ordinary there, and no one who could tell them if Agent Starling had been there on Sunday.
The building would have been deserted. There was no security staff on duty over the weekend - but there were surveillance cameras.
Crawford has Sunday’s tape in front of him. Of all the things he suspected when he realized Lecter had been in the building with Starling, rape was not among them. It seemed that was likely, though. Before he switched the tape off he had seen Lecter pin her wrists to the wall, pressing himself into her and bringing his mouth down over hers.
He switches it back on with reluctance, watching as Lecter eventually pulls back from the kiss. Starling’s eyes blaze... not with fear or anger, but with blatant hunger. Crawford feels something fundamental shift beneath him as he watches her strain against Lecter’s grip in an attempt to bring herself into closer contact with the length of his body. He hears himself let out a small groan of distress as Lecter obliges by pressing himself against her and forcing her back into the wall. His eyes jump to the wall behind the small screen as her lips part and her chin tilts up to offer her mouth.
Hannibal Lecter is a monster, and Starling’s reaction to him catches Crawford utterly by surprise. In the majority of circumstances she is most accurately described as icy or remote.
The notion that a single kiss from a man like Lecter could render her so pliant and eager leaves him sickened, reeling with disbelief.
The unwelcome voice in his head continues without mercy...
He is ready to switch the tape off again, his finger hovering over the remote when Lecter releases her wrists. He pauses to see what she will do now that her hands are free.
He suspects that this is true, but seems unable to help himself.
Her hands go immediately to Lecter’s hips and she pulls him even closer, tilting her own hips slightly to increase the contact. Lecter smiles and nips at her mouth, her tongue slipping out to run along his teeth as they close over her lips.
Lecter smiles and says something to her, his lips brushing hers as he speaks. She responds by curling her fingers in his hair and pulling him down into another long kiss, grinding herself against him while her tongue darts into his mouth.
He thinks again that what he wants is to turn the damn thing off, but somehow he can’t manage to make himself do it. The sight of Starling so unabashedly aroused fascinates him.
He watches as Lecter pulls back from her. He is far calmer than Jack himself would be under the circumstances. Lecter speaks to her again, but maintains a slight distance from her this time. Her gaze is locked onto his lips as he speaks. Her breath comes in shallow gasps. She is obviously unhappy with the physical distance he has imposed but makes no move to correct it.
Jesus! Where exactly is the Clarice Starling he knows? This compliant, shameless woman bears a striking resemblance to her, but they simply cannot be the same. She just stands there, leaning back against the wall, eyes gleaming with unmistakable lust, and waits for his instruction.
His hands go to her throat. For the briefest moment, Crawford thinks that he might have been wrong, that Lecter might kill her after all.
Lecter trails his hands down to her breasts, thumbs brushing over the nipples until they strain against the fabric of her blouse. He begins to unbutton it, his eyes holding hers. He takes his time, exposing her with deliberate calm. She remains passive, though she is clearly impatient.
“Anxious to fuck him!” Crawford hisses bitterly.
Lecter’s gaze finally moves to her breasts as he frees them from the creamy lace of her bra. His eyes catch hers once again as he lowers his head, tongue flicking over a nipple before his mouth closes over her.
Crawford can almost hear her moan as he watches her toss her head back and close her eyes. She arches her back and brings a hand up to the back of his head. Her other hand clutching his arm as he rolls the nipple of her neglected breast between his thumb and forefinger.
Crawford is disgusted with himself for continuing to watch this, but cannot even look away from the screen now - much less shut the thing off. He is quite simply enthralled. He has imagined Starling like this...
... but failed to do her justice.
Lecter is trailing his tongue up toward her collarbone. Her head remains back, eyes still closed. He bites her roughly when he reaches the base of her throat, and her eyes snap open. Her body convulses, shuddering visibly as her hand clutches into a fist in his hair. Her mouth forms a single word. There is no sound, but Crawford can see it on her lips and hears it as plainly as though her scream were captured on the tape... “Hannibal”
He is aware of two things and is unsure which of the two he finds most unsettling. He just watched Starling climax when Lecter bit her... and he is hard.
Crawford wants... needs to stop this. He is still unable to pull himself away, but this time it isn’t Starling who holds him. He is waiting for Lecter’s reaction.
The Doctor brings his head up to look into her flushed face. A smug smile plays over his lips, though hunger is evident in his dark eyes. He speaks to her again as his mouth comes down over hers, and her lips curl into a smile. Their kiss is fierce... all tongues and teeth.
It is Lecter this time who grinds into her, his hands moving down over her body and raising her skirt so that it bunches high on her hips.
He continues to nip at her mouth as his hand moves between her legs and she thrusts her hips out to meet his touch.
Crawford flinches when he realizes that he is rubbing the fingers of his right hand together.
Lecter kneels in front of her as he pulls them down, and looks up at her quizzically. At her response, he smiles and rises to his feet.
She watches his hands impatiently as he frees himself, smiling at the haste with which he accomplishes his task.
It’s about time! His control up to this point has been inhuman as far as Crawford is concerned.
Her eyes reluctantly come back up to his as he moves towards her, a small smile of triumph crossing her lips as she sees the desire blazing in them.
He lifts her, bracing her against the wall as he enters her. Her arms and legs come around him.
His thrusts are hard and deliberate, his face close to hers... lips just short of touching, breath mingling, eyes locked. This intimacy is painful to watch.
Crawford stares at Starling’s face. Her features are imprinted with ungoverned appetite. There is something almost savage in her eyes. She is magnificent! He is suddenly aware that his hand is in his lap, stroking himself through his trousers.
His hand flies up to the desk and closes on the remote. He finally switches off the tape. He tries to focus on his anger, his disgust at Starling’s willingness to submit to that monster. It even seems that he might be successful... briefly.
Despite his efforts, the image of her - head thrown back, lips parted, eyes glazed with passion - refuses to leave him. Nor can he deny the persistent ache between his legs. With a strangled sob, Jack Crawford allows his hand to drop back into his lap.
copyright 2000, by Hannah
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