Categories > Books > Hannibal


by CaptainKilljoy 1 review

Hannibal and Clarice reflect on the past. Set after the film version of Hannibal. Smut inside. Clarice/Hannibal lemons.

Category: Hannibal - Rating: R - Genres: Erotica,Romance - Warnings: [!!] [X] - Published: 2011-12-26 - Updated: 2011-12-27 - 1338 words

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they belong to the wondrous Thomas Harris. I just play with them a bit.
A/N: There is smut in this, so if you don't like then don't read. Delicious Hannibal/ Clarice lemons are waiting....

“Clarice Starling, F.B.I!”
The words rang in her mind as clear as when she’d first stated them, surrounded by trees and with no sight of Doctor Hannibal Lecter.
She sighed, wondering where he’d gone and if she would ever see him again. It seemed she had nothing better to do these days than sit in her frighteningly lonely house and reminisce about her old F.B.I days.
She had been forced to resign after the events concerning the cannibal, ‘surprise, surprise.’ she thought bitterly as she slowly uncurled herself from her uncomfortable position on her small couch.

As she sat up, dozing off once more, she began to think about the events that led to Hannibal’s escape and her demise at the bureau. Her mind got as far as apprehending Lecter in the kitchen, attacking him even though she was unsteady on her feet from both the high heeled shoes and the amount of morphine in her system at the time.

He caught her by the forearms and pushed her roughly against the refrigerator, holding her there whilst opening the door to it and trapping her ponytail inside; rendering her useless almost.
He moved close to her, so close she could feel his hot breath tantalizingly close to her skin.
“Tell me, Clarice. “ he’d said “Would you ever say to me ‘Stop. If you loved me you’d stop.’?”
She hissed the lie so easily, she almost convinced herself: “Not in a thousand years.”

That got him, his face fell slightly, before anger took over. “Not in a thousand years…” But she didn’t fear him, not even when he lunged forward looking as if he was ready to take a chunk out of her face.

He stopped when he saw she didn’t move a muscle, she trusted him not to hurt her. “That’s my girl.”

Clarice felt a shiver of delight when she remembered what happened next, it made her realise that he had indeed felt some form of affection to her… Maybe even love?

He leaned in slowly, still pinning her to the fridge, and kissed her lips gently. She tried so hard not to respond; knowing that it would mean his victory, but as he ran his soft tongue along the outside of her lips she let a small moan of pleasure slip.

And the deal was sealed in that instance, she reflected. Her lips still tingled, even now, at the thought of Hannibal Lecter’s kiss.
After that moan she gave up trying to withhold herself from him and began to return the kiss in an almost urgent fashion, knowing that this was unfortunately the first and last time she’d ever be this intimate with the man she’d be obsessing over since the Buffalo Bill case. The doctor was almost shocked by her sudden willingness, but decided it would be rude to stop now and ask questions… They would just have to wait. For now.

Their lips moved in a co-ordinated flurry of lips and tongues, and she snaked her arms around his neck causing his body to be fully pressed against her own, she gasped as she felt his desire pressing against her leg. She smirked, bringing one hand back down across his chest and down below to stroke his, obviously hard, length.

He stopped kissing her then, opting to bury his head in the crook of her neck and biting the skin slowly, murmuring words of encouragement as his hips began to move, seemingly, of their own accord in rhythm with her palm.
One of his own hands began to creep its way down her body and slipped under the front of her beautiful dress.
Both were beginning to lose control and neither seemed to mind, they knew that teams of agents would be making their way to the big house and that their time was limited. But at that moment, it was as if they were the only two people in existence.

“Clariiccee” he hissed between heavy panting breaths.
She knew what he was trying to convey to her, and her response was a firm thrust toward him twinned with the word: “Please?!” repeated more and more frantically as he began to remove the lower parts of his attire, in the most reserved and respectful manner he could; this was Clarice after all, his Clarice. And he was going to make the special, even if they were about to fuck against a fridge.

She had very little to do on her part, so she merely hooked her thumbs through the lace of the panties and pulled them down until the restriction of her hair forced her to stop. Hannibal noticed her difficulty in removing her undergarments and delved into one of his pockets for his trusted harpy, with which he used to slice through the flimsy material of her lacy underwear and thus ridding them both of the problem.

Eventually they were both rid of their clothing to begin the act that would make them one, eternally bound (whether they liked it or not) and confirm that they were both attracted to each other, even if neither would verbally admit such a thing.

The repeated the same position as beforehand, her pressed against the fridge and he pressed against her. He took a firm grip of her long slender legs and brought them upwards, so she was angled towards him.
His eyes met hers as he pushed his hips forwards and sunk himself into her, both gasping at the sensations of this intimate contact. He began slowly at first, until she growled at him to ‘Hurry the hell up’ in her raw West Virginia accent, at that he gripped her fiercely and slammed himself into her, so hard that the fridge was rocking back and forth with the couple.
It didn’t take much longer for the pair to reach that final ecstasy and when they did shouts of “Hannibal!” and “Clarice!” rang through the otherwise silent house.

Clarice slowly unwound her legs from around him, standing on shaky feet and holding onto his shoulders for support whilst they both descended from their euphoria.

They swiftly redressed themselves, well Clarice looked wistfully at what had once been her favourite underwear whilst Hannibal re-acquainted himself with his trousers.
Afterwards they stood for a moment, looking at one another and silently professing their feelings towards each other.

He released her hair from the fridge door, and kissed her softly one last time before he left her standing in the kitchen, struggling to understand what in the hell just happened.

When she eventually chose to follow him it was too late, she’d lost her chance to be free with him and then she’d had to explain to the F.B.I what exactly she’d been doing with Dr. Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter in the kitchen instead of arresting him.

She shook her head free from the memory that excited, scared and upset her all at once. She wiped her eyes for any stray tears and sighed.
She wondered if Hannibal ever thought of their moment of passion, or if he ever thought of her at all for that matter.

Somewhere, who knows where, Dr. Lecter sat on an ornately carved stool, his fingers running along the keys of a grand piano. Beautiful music pours from the instrument, and as he plays, the Doctor hums. His eyes are closed, and he pictures Clarice in his head. He chuckles as he remembers their tryst in the kitchen. His fingers increase in speed, and the melody flows faster. Suddenly he stops. Opens his eyes and sighs. He thinks about Clarice, wondering what she’s doing at this moment in time…
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