Abigail is mortified.
He knows. He knows! He was probably right outside the door, listening… hearing me call his name.
The twinge of arousal she feels at the thought is quickly overshadowed by her colossal embarrassment.
When she sees another tracksuit at the foot of her bed, Abigail groans and pulls the blankets over her head.
I don't even want to have to look at him today, let alone train!
She hears the blender whirring from the kitchen and forces herself to get out of bed. The red vibrator is so prominent, she can't just ignore it, even though she wants to pretend it doesn't exist.
After debating leaving the thing out in the open, Abigail decides against it and tucks it into her bedside drawer, dropping it as if it burns her.
It's not as if she's never owned a vibrator before, but the implications of this one makes her want to hide.
He gave this to me because he knows… and because he wants me to use it? Or is this another psychological game?
Something else occurs to her.
He had to have already had this on hand. It's not like he got up early, found a sex shop that is open at 6 a.m., and browsed around to find a toy.
Shaking her head, Abigail tries not to think about the possibilities. That either Hannibal gave her a second hand toy he had on hand, or he bought it for her a while ago and had been waiting for the right moment to give it to her.
She dresses quickly and pulls her hair into a high pony. She's growing more accustomed to letting her neck and ear remain exposed. In fact, she hardly even thinks about it any more.
Her door is unlocked. Taking a deep breath, Abigail heads downstairs to face him.
Hannibal is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter casually, a protein shake in hand.
"Good Morning, Abigail."
"Morning," she mumbles, not meeting his eyes.
"I made you a shake."
"Thank you."
Abigail sees her cup on the counter nearest her and picks it up. She's not particularly hungry, but drinking it gives her an excuse not to talk.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Hannibal asks.
In his voice, she can hear it, and Abigail glances up. He's smirking at her. His eyes glinting as he studies her over the top of his cup.
He's teasing me.
"I'm feeling great, thank you. Very… refreshed," she answers defiantly, refusing to be beaten down.
She's faced many terrible things and survived. It sure as hell won't be embarrassment that gets the best of her.
"Good. I was worried you might be too sore to train today. You've been cooped up for a while, and yesterday was quite a work out," he says.
"I can manage," she replies, then downs the rest of her breakfast. "I'm ready when you are."
"Let's go."
Hannibal leads her into the basement for the second day in a row, only this time Abigail doesn't get that sense of doom she felt before. She knows she is safe, well, as safe as anyone can be around Hannibal, but even if that weren't the case she's too distracted by her anger to feel anything else.
"I was going to set you up on the treadmill today, but I know you won't be satisfied working on your own. I am supposed to be teaching you, after all."
His tone is light, but Abigail's heard enough of his cannibal puns to know he's still taunting her. She clenches her fists by her side.
"Hand to hand," he continues, "combat that is, is often sloppy. I can teach you how to be graceful, how to reach your goal."
"Oh, I don't know," she says, her annoyance getting the best of her. "I think I've pretty well figured out how to reach my goal."
"Show me," Hannibal insists, his cocky grin making her stomach twist. "Your goal is to beat me."
He crouches into a fighting stance, that bastard grin still on his face. Abigail grits her teeth, determination calming her nerves.
She knows he'll make the first move. Hannibal may be graceful, and quick, but he relies upon his brute strength most of the time. It is here Abigail has the advantage; she's much faster than him.
Hannibal lunges out, much like he had yesterday when they first started, unlike yesterday, however, Abigail is ready for it and she dodges him by jumping to the side.
She circles behind him and kicks at the back of his knee. Her foot connects right as Hannibal is turning to face her. He grunts, but the strike doesn't slow him down and Abigail falls backwards as she tries to scurry out of reach.
She lands hard on her butt, there is no time to feel pain, as Hannibal is advancing on her. Abigail pushes herself backwards across the floor with her legs.
Her back hits the wall behind her. It's the wall with all the various tools on it.
"You've backed yourself into a corner, Abigail."
She climbs to her feet.
"Not a bad corner to be in," she says, smirking.
Twisting around, Abigail grabs the first weapon her hand comes in contact with, a butcher's knife.
"Tsk, tsk," Hannibal chastises, "are you sure you're ready to incorporate weapons into your training?"
"Let's find out together."
This time it is Abigail who lunges forward, slashing erratically with the butcher's knife. Hannibal dodges her, left then right, sidestepping her like a dancer following an intricate melody only he can hear.
Anger reaching a boiling point sends Abigail rushing forward, feigning right but jumping at him as he dodges left.
The force of her body hitting him sends Hannibal falling backwards. He lands flat on the ground, with Abigail sitting perched above him. Her knees are tucked into either side of his waist and she is leaning down over him, the butcher's knife pressed to his throat.
"I know how to reach my goal," she spits.
Hannibal's hands twitch and Abigail presses harder with the knife, warning him to give up.
"With a little assistance from your accessory there," he remarks, glancing towards the knife, still teasing her.
Abigail growls in frustration.
"I beat you," she grinds out through clenched teeth.
"One thing you need to remember about weapons," Hannibal says, leaning his head upwards, pressing his neck into the blade.
Abigail gasps when she sees the blood and she pulls the knife back. Hannibal uses this to his advantage, his hand shoots up and wraps around her fingers holding the weapon. He then uses his weight to roll them to the side, and before she knows it, Abigail is pinned beneath him.
She tries to push back as he maneuvers the knife so it is now against her throat, but he is too strong.
"You have to be able to use them," Hannibal finishes, his dark eyes burning into her blue ones.
Despite the cold steel to her throat, Abigail is more aware of the warmth… the warmth of Hannibal's body on top of hers. The way her legs are wrapped around his waist suddenly feels very intimate, and she becomes very aware of how labored her breathing is.
He's breathing hard too, she can hear it, and she can feel his heart pounding against her chest. Abigail wets her lips and glances at his mouth, slightly parted almost calling to her.
Hannibal releases her hand and Abigail throws the butcher's knife away. As if of their own accord her hands reach out for Hannibal, she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer.
When their lips meet it isn't sweet, or romantic, it's just another battle. Both of them fighting to get closer, to feel more. Abigail moans against his mouth and Hannibal nips at her bottom lip. His hand roams up her side to cup her breast, and she arches up against him.
She feels as if she is standing on the edge of a blazing pit, the warmth she feels now is the promise of more to come and all she wants is to throw herself into the flames.
To be consumed.
His mouth leaves her lips, and like last time he trails kisses along her jaw and down her neck, only this time when he reaches her scar she doesn't pull away. She leans into him and moans louder.
This. This is all I want, she thinks, twining her fingers in his hair. All I need is— all I need is my freedom.
"No, no," she whimpers, unconvincingly.
His thumb is tracing circles on her nipple, teasing her through her jacket and sports bra.
"No!" she says more forcefully, and his ministrations stop.
His head rests against her neck a moment longer before he pulls back and looks down at her.
She can see the fire raging in his eyes and suspects hers are mirror image.
"I— I just can't," she says, pushing against his chest.
Hannibal rolls off of her to lie on the floor beside her.
"Why do you fight me, Abigail?" Hannibal asks after several minutes of silence.
She almost thinks he sounds sad.
The words don't come, at least not ones she can admit to him.
What can I say? It's not like I can tell him I'm afraid if I give myself over to him I'll be lost? That I'll no longer be able to fight against what he wants me to become?
She doesn't say anything.
When he realizes she isn't going to answer, Hannibal stands up and heads for the stairs. He pauses at the bottom and she hopes he won't ask any more questions, or she might break.
Instead he surprises her.
"Will's trial starts tomorrow."
Author's Note: Now we're catching up to season 2... Please review and let me know what you think!
