Blarg! I really wanted to say that. My story is now rated M, so I can right smut if I want to! We'll see. Maybe give your input in a review? I love all followers and favorites! I'm not sure what day it is. I keep falling asleep. I was wrapped in a blanket, with a towel over my hair, on the couch, and when I spoke I scared the crap out of my dad. He didn't even notice me, and I was directly next to him. I only woke up because No Country for Old Men was on. Haha. Enjoy!


"He does what?" Anna Astor repeated into her phone.

"He makes angels out of his victims. Gives them wings to pray over him as he sleeps."

An arm, wrapped around her waist even after sitting up, tightened. Anna leaned against her headboard, smoothing Hannibal's hair from his face. Eyes did not open though his pout lips curled to a smile. Anna scooted closer, pulling his head into her lap.

"Are these the only victims found? Or is this a recurring thing?"

"These are the only ones, so far. They were found at a motel. Crawford wants your input. Can you come in?"

"I can," The brunette responded. Her fingers trailed through hair to an inclined neck, sliding down shoulders blades, arms. Hannibal only slightly squirmed, breathing a sigh onto her leg. "What time?"

"I'll pick you up in about forty-five minutes. Is that enough time for you to nitpick an over-the-top outfit?"

Anna hung up, throwing her phone to the foot of the bed. Hannibal chuckled as the woman slithered from his grasp and into his arms.

"Do you have sessions today?"

"I hadn't planned on it, no." Half-lidded eyes opened in a way that always made her heart pound. Anna hid her face in his chest, moaning.

"Crawford has a new case. A man who cuts the skin of his victim's backs to create "wings." Will said he'd be here in about an hour."

"I thought he said forty-five minutes," Hannibal Lecter corrected. She pulled away with a coy smile.

"Yes, but you must take in to account his driving style. That tacks on at least fifteen minutes, wouldn't you say?"

"Not everyone can drive as crazily as you, An-na," He kissed her, crushed her to himself. Teeth nipped his neck, ears, nose, before Anna Astor rolled out of bed.

Hannibal watched her stretch, arms high over head. The woman refused to wear pants to bed, only clothed in a sports shirt from high school and underwear.

They had returned to his residence, that night. Bathed, ate, fell into a deep sleep. Anna had brought no clothes, and dressed in his.

It was maddening.

"So what will you do?" Anna asked, already smearing make-up onto her face. The doctor preferred her natural, but made no comment.

"Perhaps I will come in with you and good Will. Or I might just return to bed-"

"Hannibal Lecter, sleeping the day away?" Bright eyes turned to him, teasing. "What are you up to? Oh, I get it. While the cat's away, the mouse will play?" Hannibal smiled, waiting for sink water to warm. "Something like that."

The master bathroom came with his and her sinks. Anna had never had both in use before.
Until now.

Slipping into a beige dress designed with detailed birds, a brown belt tied around her waist, the woman jumped onto the counter to observe her bath mate. She wasn't surprised by his old-fashioned shaving kit; it fit his persona entirely.

"What?" Hannibal questioned her smile. Anna shook her head.

"I just…Like watching you shave, I guess. So manly," A smirk curled red lips between a cloud of white, eyes back to the mirror.

"You simply enjoy the feeling of my skin right after." Came his light answer, rinsing off remaining cream. A grin crossed her face as she held a towel up to him. Hannibal lent his face to her, eyes closed as she wiped his skin dry.

Fingers caught the hollows below his ears, turning his face to hers. Hannibal could not retain a smile while she playfully purred, rubbing her cheek against his.

"So soft! And smooth. And deliciously scented," Anna cooed. He turned, kissing her. Legs wrapped around his nearly-bare waist, arms to his neck. The back of her dress was yanked down and Anna smiled, pulling away from him.

"Graham will be here soon; I have to go," This time, Anna was quicker, stealthy as she slipped from his grasp. The tall doctor caught her against the door, lifting her off unprotected feet, kissed her again.

The way he destroyed her senses, made her lose control. Heat fueled the pit of her stomach, causing her to pull away once more.

"I will enjoy ransacking your house, An-na!" Hannibal called after her disappearing form. Laughter echoed the empty halls.

Hannibal Lecter stood alone, the prospect of truly investigating her home looming in the future.


"How could anyone capable of this be scared of something?" Anna frowned with Katz comment, turning to Will.

Will Graham, who looked so desperately tired. "Maybe he's…sick? A disease?"

"What was in his vomit?"

Eyes were trained on the two "agents," throwing ideas at one another.

"Cancer," They decided in unison. Will nodded a shaggy head, turning on his heel. A hand caught his wrist halfway down the hall.

"When was the last time you slept, Will?" Anna stood behind him, voice soft. She noticed his tired sigh, the way he looked her in the face.

"I don't even know anymore, Anna. A while."

"I…I could help you,"

"You could drug me, you mean," Will laughed. A sheepish grin answered.
"It could be our little secret. Nothing major, just a little relaxer. I'm sure there's an empty office here, somewhere."

The cordial attitude of Anna Astor never struck him as genuine. Always guarded, from the tense way she stood to the glassiness of her eyes.

Somehow, in some point in time, it had began to melt away.

"…If you promise to stay with me. You're still under Hannibal-Graham arrest."

The young woman grinned, looping arms and dragging him off.


"This is Doctor Lecter."

"Hannibal, hello."

"Jack! I was not expecting a call from you."

Hannibal Lecter had returned to his office shortly after Anna Astor's departure. While investigating her home sounded blissful, it wasn't ideal to fish around without her there.

"I'm calling to double-check our dinner party. I'm anxious for Bella to try your delicacies."

Safe in his office alone, Hannibal smirked. "Plan to be there at precisely seven, then. I hope my meals are regarded with the same admiration as you yourself feel."

"Is Anna with you?"

"Will said you wanted her input hours ago. Is she not at the agency?"

The pause deadened Hannibal. He was not willing to admit worry, though the feeling was crawling up his spine. Not again. Surely.

"She may be here, then. I haven't seen neither her nor Graham for a while. Will she be joining us?"

"Yes."

"I see. Tell me, will it soon be Dr. and Dr. Lecter?" Hannibal laughed; a deep, resonating sound through the phone.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Jack."

The conversation ended soon after. Hannibal fell slack in his chair, musing at the ceiling.

He had searched but one room: her office. Filled with medical files, pictures of her and her sister, of Lily through the stages of her life.

Hidden in the top drawer of her desk, though, lightly placed on a folder of documents, was a picture of him and her.

She had been nagging at something he wrote, Will and Alana with them. Seated at his desk, ignoring her tirade. Dark hair brushed his shoulder as she suddenly leaned over him, head hovering beside him. Without thinking his face tilted towards her, breathed in the scent of her skin.

Hannibal Lecter hadn't notice Anna's smile until caught on the photograph.
Gleaming as his closed eyes turned to her, lips pressed to her cheek, smiling as well.


It sent a shivering thrill through Anna, when Hannibal Lecter greeted her at her own front door. His smile, however much it had been occurring, was still a welcomed surprise to her. She turned, waved at Will Graham, and entered her home.

"Have fun digging up all my secrets?" Anna asked while hanging up her coat. She noted his attractive dark suit and articulate hair. "Did you go in to see patients after all?"

"I did," Hannibal agreed. He closed the closet door for her, lightly smiling. "Though I would rather you tell me your secrets than rifle through your drawers, gražus An-na,"

'It so wouldn't have stopped me,' Anna's conscious deadpanned. Lips curved as she adjusted his tie.

"...Would you like to see where all my strange clothes come from, Hannibal?"

He gave her a curious, overly sexy look. Anna fought off a grin, instead slipping into a calm apathy.

"Follow me."

Shoes were left at the door with his, shortening her to the brink of his chest. Over the few weeks Anna had regained some weight, filling her curves once more. Her skin returned its peach pallor, the blushed glow she thought herself cursed with. Fingers pinched her behind. Anna let out what he'd deliciously call a squeal, turning to him with wide eyes. Hannibal merely shrugged. "I could not help myself."
Her face flushed and a hand slapped his chest, no more painful than a fly.

Anna Astor suddenly stopped, turned her back to a door. Feline eyes watched him closely.

"I don't even let Cecelia in here. So, naturally, it is a mess. Please keep your disgust at a minimum, okay?"

"It isn't an animal pen or blood bath, is it?" The man questioned, serious. "Both are very unsanitary, An-na. You must always-"

Words ran thin as the brunette fell into the room, leaving the door wide.

Fountains of pastels, chiffon, pearls, sequins, tumbled over tables and wardrobes. Windows from floor to ceiling lined one wall, allowing natural light to cast glimmering reflections upon the air. Mannequins clothed in half-finished dresses, shirts, were scattered across the room. There was one white, antique desk close to the windows, covered with pots and bottles of thread, needles, scrap materials.

Anna Astor did not pay outrageous sums for her clothing.

She made them.

"I told you I didn't care about sports. My mother found other outlets for us to share while my sister and father were off at the track," Anna explained.

Hannibal did not answer, eyes drinking in the room. She had not lied: the room was indeed a soft mess. Pearls rolled over the cherry wood floor, outfits thrown over one another. Material and print designs covered all table surfaces. He picked up a charcoal pencil, carefully, and examined it.

"Try sharpening with a scalpel," He murmured. "It produces the finest point."

Anna drawled to his side, looking from to pencil to his face. Not with a smile nor frown she asked; "I've finished a dress for tonight. Would you like to see it?"

"I would very much."

A lonely hook protruded the wall, on it one single hanger. A dress of mint green hung beautifully, reaching no longer than the space where knee and thigh would meet. Delicate gold embroidery was placed over a sheer matching material, creating thick straps. The gold tickled down the ribcage to nearly meet at the waist. A plunge fell between the formed chest cups, cinching again and stopping down the middle.

"It is exquisite," Hannibal breathed. The beam of Anna Astor was more then enough to show how pleased she was. He couldn't help but smile. "Allow me to put it on you,"

"I have to do my hair first," Anna countered, frowning. Brown eyes took in the shining, beach hair, shook his head.

"Your hair is perfect, the way it is. Please," Hannibal persisted. The dimpled frown remained for a moment more. With a slow blink, it melted into a shy, accepting smile. Fingers unhooked her belt, placed it gently on a nearby table. When she began to unzip the dress he stopped her. Idle hands fell to her sides once more, gazing up at Hannibal. Strong arms ducked under hers, unzipping the dress for himself.

Since the news, the surgery, Anna had always been quick to dress. Turning away in his presence, pushing his hand away from the bottom of her belly.

There was no hiding as he stood before her. A finger traced the three-inch scar, chest tightening at the sudden pain on the woman's face.

Not of physical,
But mental.

"It simply means I won't have to share you for a while longer, yet," Hannibal Lecter murmured softly.

She was caught in time. Heart slowing to a stop, breath catching.

He smiled at her, so achingly loving.

Anna Astor
slipped
briskly
into an intimacy
from which
she
would never
recover.

"You…Are you falling in love with me, Hannibal Lecter?"

Worn face dipped, lips smiled.

When he looked at her, Anna couldn't tell which Hannibal was looking back.

"If I were capable of such a thing, An-na, then I would daresay yes, I'm beginning to."


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