He had told her once that she needed to get more fun out of life. Well, she was absolutely doing so now. Her heart pounded so hard in her ears it nearly drowned out the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. That she could hear him at all was no doubt deliberate on his part.

He was only seconds behind her when she entered the bedroom, flipping the light on as she went.

Impatient to undress, she pulled her hair over her left shoulder and lowered her head. She reached for the fastener at her neck, but he was faster. His hands clasped her shoulders, waiting, and she let her arms drop in acquiescence.

His thumbs stroked her skin as they moved slowly to her neck. A moment, and the dress was sliding away, leaving her bare to the waist. His thumbs trailed up to the base of her skull, lightly massaging.

She trembled with anticipation, unable to see him behind her, unwilling to move. Flooded with relief, she moaned when his open mouth descended on her neck. His teeth dragged across her skin as he seemed to inhale her soul, consuming her in a way that promised only pleasure.

So focused was she on the touch of his mouth that the path of his wandering hands had gone unnoticed until the stroke of his fingers against her thighs made her jump. His hands were sliding upward now, beneath the dress, lifting it as they moved. She arched back against him in a wordless plea. His weight shifted forward in response, his groin firmly pressed to the curve of her ass for one dizzying moment before his hands reached her waist.

His mouth and hips briefly stilled, pulling away from her as he stripped the dress from her body and tossed it over the chair in the corner.

It occurred to Clarice that she was naked now and he had yet to remove a single item of clothing, but there was no shame in the knowledge, no discomfort. He loved her. With him, she was beautiful. She was the ideal, the pattern of "woman" woven into the universe at creation.

His hand lazily stroked her back, knuckles running up and down her spine.

"Yes, Clarice. That and more," his voice was hushed with something … something like awe, she thought. No … reverence. "For me, there is no other."

She wondered if her thoughts were so plain to him that he could read them in her back now. No sooner had she done so than his hand lay alongside her face, gently turning her gaze.

"The mirror, Clarice."

Her skin flushed with desire and her nipples tightened. He had been watching her, had seen how his words and actions affected her. She could see her movements reflected in the glass now, her chest rising and falling more rapidly as the pace of her breathing increased.

She had to moisten her lips before she could speak.

"I hope you aren't going to make me wait, Doctor." Just his stare, eyes hooded, reflecting back at her, secondhand, was enough to ratchet up the tension in her limbs. Her toes wanted to curl into the rug.

His smile told her he knew; the hand rhythmically clenching around her hip told her he wasn't unaffected either.

"No, we've waited long enough, haven't we, Clarice?" His body pressed in closer behind her, the fine fabric of his suit feeling deliciously sinful against her bare flesh. "I do hope, however, that you'll find it within you to call me by name, my dear. We're beyond titles now, are we not?"

The hand not squeezing her hip swept across her stomach and down. She parted her legs without a thought, and he accepted her silent invitation. His fingers skimmed across her lips, opening her to him. She heard him inhale, deeply; the hand on her hip momentarily convulsed. It was all the warning she had before his finger was inside her, his hand firmly cupped against her flesh, the heel resting atop her clitoris. She surged toward the sweet pressure.

"Oh, god."

"You do make me feel like one, Clarice, but that is not my name."

Her breath became a pant as he slipped a second finger inside her and began to thrust. She thought she might pass out from the pleasure. His hand kept her hips from moving as they longed to; his fingers set the rhythm of her desire; his thumb now pressed steadily against her clitoris; his erection stood snug against her back in sharp relief despite his clothes between them. There was no need for her to act or imagine; he would give her what she wanted, what she needed, without any intervention on her part at all. Her head dropped to his shoulder, her face turning into his neck.

"Hannibal," she whispered to his skin as his fingers moved faster. "Hannibal, please."

Her teeth sank into his flesh when she came apart under his touch.

She quivered with aftershocks as he carefully lifted her onto the bed. Her fingers traced the marks on his neck. "Did I hurt you?"

He pulled her fingers away and kissed her hand as he winked at her.

"No matter, Clarice. Your passion is a welcome gift in any form." He stood at the end of the bed, undressing with what seemed little hurry, though she knew even his unmatched restraint must be sorely tested. She wondered what she might see when he dropped the leash. "Of course, I reserve the right to bite back."

His suit coat, tie, and shirt joined her dress on the chair.

She flashed her teeth at him. "I reserve the right to like it."

"Mmm." His belt hissed through the loops of his slacks as he removed it. "I was correct in my earlier assessment, Clarice. It is quite something to know you in private life."

He bent down, presumably removing his shoes and socks. She propped herself up on her elbows to avoid losing sight of him. Now that she finally had him, she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to let him go.

He stripped off his slacks and underwear as he stood, so that when he rose and stepped forward he was nude before her. His body was fit, muscular without being over-muscled, and her eyes drank in the sight. They returned, however, without fail, to the sight that held particular interest. Her legs shifted restlessly as she stared; his erection twitched against his stomach in response. He was otherwise still, and her gaze eventually drifted upward to his in question.

"Finished your inspection, Clarice?" His voice was warm, teasing, unperturbed by her lengthy perusal of his form.

Her head shifted slowly from side to side, but her eyes never left his.

"Only the initial visual inspection. This next part is more … hands-on. I'll really need to put you through your paces to get a true picture of your value. Though what I've seen so far has been … impressive."

"Has it, now?" He leaned forward, his hands dropping to the bedspread on either side of her knees, and his muscles rippled as he raised first one leg and then the other until he crouched above her. His hands slid forward; he ducked his head, nudged her thighs farther apart, and pressed his tongue between her lips.

She gasped at the intrusion, her hips curving toward him without conscious thought. When he lifted his head, heat and laughter mingled in his eyes.

"I must say, Clarice, I admire your taste."

Then he lunged forward. Her supporting elbows collapsed as he bore her down to the bed with his weight; her heart hammered in her chest. He growled into her ear and she could feel the vibration against her ribs. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, inhaling the scent of him and enjoying the shift in his muscles as he naturally accommodated her movement beneath him. There was no danger here, only play. She knew giddy joy and feminine pride, that she could touch him so, that he would trust her – trust them both – enough to be playful with her.

He nipped her ear. She giggled, delighted, and couldn't recall when she'd last made such a sound. He repeated the motion; she repeated the sound. He raised his head high enough to look at her face, feigned astonishment in his own.

"That couldn't possibly be Clarice Starling giggling in the midst of my seduction, could it? My skills must be inadequate to the task. Clearly, I will have to redouble my efforts."

She couldn't hold back her grin; there was too much happiness inside her for it not to bubble over, given even the slightest opportunity.

"By all means, continue." The grin edged into a smirk that became a moan as he thrust his hips forward, putting delicious pressure on sensitive nerves, and then it was his turn to smirk.

"Certainly, my dear." He nuzzled his cheek against hers. "Whatever you say, my dear." His hand trailed down her arm and took her wrist, pulling her hand away from his flank and sliding it upward past her head until her arm lay fully extended. "Your every wish is my most joyous command." He did the same with her other arm, his left hand now pinning her wrists to the mattress. Her legs bent and rose on instinct, clutching at his hips. His eyes burned into hers. "Tell me, Clarice, is there something you want?"

Every breath scraped her nipples against his chest now, and she whimpered at the friction. His hips rocked gently against hers, slow and steady, his erection hard and hot and so very, very close to where she wanted it to be. She couldn't look away from his face hovering above her own.

"You, Hannibal. This. Everything. All of it. I want it all." The words tumbled out between breaths until she wasn't even certain of what she had said. It seemed an eternity before his mouth descended to hers, claiming a fierce kiss, at the same time his hips shifted and thrust, driving him into her.

Then there was nothing but the storm, the need to be closer, to meet his every motion with her own, her back and hips arching and flexing beneath him in counterpoint to bring them more tightly together, her legs locking around his back, fingers and toes going numb as tension wound through her body, lungs straining to fuel such excess. Her awareness faded to nothing more than the slide of his flesh against hers. She was so close now, so close….

He broke their kiss, his mouth moving to her ear as his hips thrust even faster.

"Take what you want, Clarice. It's yours." His voice was low and rough with passion. "Take it, now."

She surged upward, his words and the angle of his next thrust combining to ignite the lightning waiting for release. Her cry was fierce and triumphant as she shook with pleasure. His thrusts grew rapid and erratic until finally he drove forward and was still, her name a hoarse whisper from his lips.