Fatal Attraction
A sharp headache later and Will frowns with deep disapproval at Dr Lecter, suspicion and bone weariness colouring the lines of his brow. His palms clench and unclench. Though slightly sweating and despite his hot flush, Will longs for another layer, another jacket to hide beneath, another layer of mental security; at this point even a padded jacket would be appreciated.
"Pardon?" he reiterates voice pitching but remaining true, brows rising in a slightly panicked and questionable manner. A thin, quickening line of blood runs down his neck from a small puncture just beneath his jaw line. The column of him neck lies in shadow from the defensive tilt at which he holds his neck, but the deep colour of his wound only stains the shadows a more sinister shade, the opaque droplet hits the white of his shirt and stains the pure colour.
Lecter casts Will an unfathomable contemplative gaze his lips quirking in a small cruel smirk. He steps forward with serpentine grace, moving round his desk slowly and in self-assured manner, muscle coiling and flowing smoothly within his step so that every movement was edged with a carefully concealed violence. Will backs away, his hand clutching his wound, retreating; retreating under the house in the presence of a snake.
"William," the snake sensually whispers, the sibilance caressing Will's ears, prickling at this nerves causing the hairs on his arms to stand to attention, hanging on every syllable which falls with dangerous clarity from Lecter's barbed and thin lips. Will glances down at the offering between them as Lecter stops, miles of twisted strands between them, miles of difference, and miles of misunderstanding but only an inch or so of carpet. Lecter's offering held high.
"Marke but this flea," Hannibal intones as he meticulously folds up his sleeve, drawing it back from the pale, semi-translucent forearm. Delicately wetting his own finger from his lips he smudges his own sister bead of blood, tracing the deep blue lines with the pigment mapping his ramified blood vessels that convey his longing direct from his heart. Lecter looks up and with the same delicacy he replaces the contaminated finger back to his lips and indulges his passion, Will flushes lightly in response.
"I must protest, Doctor," Will forces out in turn, "this is most unprofessional, not to mention presumptions beyond all bounds," he snarls like an animal cornered, pupils dilating, discolouring and narrowing.
Hannibal's expression does not change but the inflection in his voice conveys his meaning hard, "it is such a little thing William, we are already bound together, see?" The words act like a sucker punch to Will's gut as he gasps hard, claiming the oxygen in the air for himself, trying to claw back the breath Lecter divested him of so forcefully.
Lecter steps forward again, ever the aggressor. His left arm extended in tribute and his left extended in effort of thievery, reaching for the forbidden droplet of blood. Will straightens, muscles tensing his eyes flinty and steel-like, cutting Hannibal down where he stands.
An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
Lecter bends to the stiffened form in front of him, "It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee, and in this flea our two bloods mingled be," he recites. In a rash of violence Lecter tears at the clutch of thick hair at the base of Will's crown yanking tightly as Will yells his rage. Lecter laps at the blood that oozed from the minute insect bite, groaning lightly. A flurry of motion and they break away.
In that moment of tangible tension Will was Will and Will only- this is Hannibal's offering, the precious gift of autonomy, of owning feelings that are his and his alone. Even in his hurried retreat Will glances back at Lecter, the action occurring simultaneously with the realisation of how such an action would undoubtedly become fatal. Will knew then that he would eventually return to Hannibal; following that little finger of lust and curiosity that had caught and buried itself behind his abdomen, pulling him like a fish on a line into the centre of Hannibal's pull. Worse he knew that Lecter knew he knew too, smug bastard.
Please review, even just to say 'meh', and that you've read better; I strive to improve on my writing so even a minute of what you think will be enormously helpful. Thanks.
Based on John Donne's 'The Flea' a poem where the speaker tries to seduce a woman by suggesting that their blood is mingled within a flea and that due to this she part of him, and he her so is no longer virginal and has nothing to loose. That is what Lecter is quoting. It is a fantastic poem from a very forward 16th century man.