I should spend more time looking for an agent for my own work and less time indulging in fanfiction for free, but here I am. Thanks for reading.
Hannibal and Bedelia
Bedelia waited for Hannibal to return from dealing with the remains of Dimmond, which she feared would more likely be a grotesquely artful display than practical disposal. She had no thoughts of leaving. She was in far too deep for that. Earlier she had toyed with the idea, watching the train doors open and close, glancing at the CCTV camera, knowing that sooner or later Jack Crawford would be looking back at her. If they looked through this camera, they would know that she was free to leave and yet chose not to. She was in this by choice.
When the aspiring poet entered during Hannibal's presentation, Bedelia feared their brutally appropriated cover would be exposed. Hannibal clearly felt he had the man under control, leveraging his greed and openness to corruption against him. Hannibal was always in control. She suspected Dimmond would die, perhaps many would, but she couldn't sit there and watch. She slipped from the presentation hall and returned to their elegant apartment. She packed everything that could be directly linked to her in a bag and headed for the door, but lingered. The authorities, Jack Crawford, Will Graham and the FBI were not looking for her, not yet. So far as she knew they had no reason to suspect she was his companion. If she stayed, even if their covers were preserved for the time being, that would eventually change. She pondered what violence Hannibal was engaged in somewhere outside this room, what would happen if Dimmond made that fatal error of underestimating the instinctive malice of her supposed husband or if his true identity was exposed. The doorknob turned as she stood anxiously before it, stylishly attired and designer bag in hand.
She was startled to see the two men calmly enter. Clearly, their marital façade had not yet shattered and Mr. Dimmond had not yet come to fully appreciate his mistake. A pulse of fear passed through her body as she met Hannibal's dark eyes. Would he consider her attempt to flee grounds for termination of their peculiar arrangement? She slowly lowered her bag to the floor, watching curiously as Hannibal pummeled the man in the head with a fine piece of carved marble, a spatter of his blood wetting her now trembling face. Witnessing a murder was still staggering, even though she had anticipated its occurrence and knew full well the viciousness of which Hannibal would always be capable. As he explained to her the difference between observing and participating, she realized that this was why he had brought Dimmond back here to kill. He wanted to involve her, to encourage her further immersion into the ecstasies of ending another's life. He knew her interest in him was far from being entirely professional.
She shared something complicated and disturbing with this man, something intellectually and physically challenging. Earlier, Hannibal had slyly prepared for her a meal meant to improve her taste were he to make a meal of her. When their naïve visitor pointed out that fact, Bedelia had nearly choked as she forced her present bite of food down an instinctively constricting throat. She knew Hannibal was playing with her. He respected her intelligence, had expected her to figure that out but would have enjoyed it even if she had not. The fact exposed, he had scrutinized her response. She didn't crumble, though, didn't falter before his devilish machinations, instead engaging in a turn of phrase that twisted the situation into deliciously sexual innuendo. Her deft retort brought a full smirk to his face, an uncommon occurrence for such an exquisitely assembled person. Hannibal admired her resourcefulness, her ability to react skillfully in the face of his blackest appetites. Bedelia had suppressed any hint of pleasure at his response, along with a fair serving of horror. Theirs was a curious relationship that became even more dangerous when Hannibal drew her into Dimmond's murder.
She was utterly shaken observing this, even terrified, but not, at this point, of Hannibal. She was terrified of herself, of her reaction to this participation. Her heart racing, adrenaline flooding her system and, coupled with the nauseous awareness of her own culpability, she absorbed the most startling reaction of all: the arousal she felt raging through her core. Watching Hannibal so casually move from snapping that man's neck to helping her with her coat made the experience seem all the more disturbing. Hannibal Lecter could make murder seem so effortless and so intoxicatingly erotic. He had long labored to encourage her darker side, but not since killing her patient had Bedelia felt such intense awareness of her existence or her capabilities.
Next Hannibal invited her to extend her participation as he laid plastic sheeting out in the kitchen. They worked together to pull the body onto the plastic. Standing over the lifeless man, Hannibal began calmly undressing. "Prior to the abandonment of my person suit, I also had a plastic suit which I donned to prevent contamination on such occasions." He removed his vest and then shirt. Bedelia just stared, transfixed. He enjoyed exposing his naked form to her, enjoyed the shudder in her gaze that he had witnessed coming out of the shower at her home back in the states. He tilted his head almost immeasurably, observing her as he began unfastening his belt and unzipping his slacks. "You are free to adjourn to another room, of course, if you prefer to avoid the particulars," he told her. "If you choose to participate further, however, I would suggest you similarly disrobe. I wouldn't want to ruin such exquisite apparel," he told her, a smile glinting in his eyes.
Shuddering, Bedelia all but stumbled past him to disappear into the other room while Hannibal finished undressing and merrily went to work. The whole experience was more than she had truly allowed herself to anticipate. This was an experiment into her darkest temptations but her professional interest had transformed into something far more devious and intoxicating. She was no longer just technically aiding and abetting a killer, she was submerging into the darkness herself and it was too late to claw her way back out of it now. She raced to the main bathroom, fumbling as she wetted a cloth and worked to remove Dimmond's blood from her face. She could hear Hannibal working in the other room, could imagine the sound of a handsaw cutting at still warm flesh.
Staring in the mirror, she realized there was a touch of blood in her hair. Though she frantically labored to remove it with the cloth, she finally tossed soiled material in the sink and went to the shower. She turned the nozzle and watched the water dance from a grand faucet in the ceiling into the tiled enclosure. She hurriedly undressed and submerged herself in the flow. Though parts of the bathroom were original, the etched glass door she closed behind her was subtly more modern. Still, it was quite beautiful as steam began to condensate on the intricate designs of its surface.
She lost herself in the tastefully refined scent of her shampoo and the warm embrace of the water cascading over her still heightened senses. She tried to forget what had happened, what was still happening, in the other room, palms against the tile wall to steady her trembling stance. Then she stopped fighting and let its darkness envelop her. Acceptance settled her nerves and stilled her delicately shaped form. She couldn't quite discern how long she had stayed in the shower before finally opening the glass door but a fair amount of time had passed. As moist air spilled into the coolness beyond she found Hannibal approaching, blood and sweat mixing on his wonderfully naked body. Bedelia's eyes sparkled as she allowed an appraising gaze to take in every detail of his glorious, glistening form, pleasure curling her lips as she finally met his eyes.
Bedelia held the door open and stepped aside, silently welcoming him to join her. With a subtle nod of acknowledgement, Hannibal entered and she closed the door behind him. As he allowed the flow to envelop him, Bedelia began to lather up his body, red blending with creamy white as her fingers ran through the hair of his chest, over his taunt abs. Hannibal gazed down at her as she explored his toned body, hands roving methodically. As she took him in her hand, his erection turned rock hard and she tilted her head up until her eyes met his again.
Pleasure danced over his features as he leaned down to her, their open mouths joining passionately. All along he had let her determine her pace, considering it rude to push himself upon her sexually. He preferred, rather, to draw her to him. Now he wrapped his hands around her as their bodies pressed together and then he suddenly lifted her entire body up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid her expertly onto him. Her lungs gasped hungrily for air as she accepted the full length of him, clutching his torso to her with her legs and running her fingers through his wonderfully thick hair. Indulging in raw lust, their mouths consumed each other. She leaned her head back, exposing her neck to the ministrations of his masterful lips and tongue, allowing him to consume her in a way she hoped might lessen his desire to do so more literally.
Hannibal brought her body against his in a powerful rhythm, awash in the flow of the shower, bringing her body to the heights of arousal until she finally shuddered in ecstasy. Hannibal enjoyed controlling her body's responses, satiating her innermost desires and needs. He also relished the feel of her body against his, the constriction of her muscles around him as he finally exploded within her in a spectacular crescendo.
Now, dressed in another colorful outfit, Bedelia settled back into a comfortable chair, her legs crossed and tumbler of iced liquor in hand, waiting for Hannibal to return. She contemplated the potential events to follow as she made herself comfortable in Hannibal's intricate web of influence. Professional curiosity blended perfectly with personal greed, the ravenousness desire for experience, for knowledge, for exaltation. And she still intended to get out of this alive.
When Hannibal returned, he entered the home with a jovial mood. She greeted him with a pleasant smile, savoring her drink.
"I saved a prime cut," he advised. "I hope you'll join me for dinner?"
Bedelia stood slowly as Hannibal strolled by. His words echoed in her head as she followed, 'What have you gotten yourself into, Bedelia?'