Hello! I know the Crawfords don't actually have children. I changed that just for two sentences. It won't be mentioned again, so don't worry. I try not to change things around too much. Especially since I don't even own Hannibal. I love all reviews, favorites, and followers!
-M
"You must be Anna," A tall, beautiful woman showed off argent teeth, hand elevated. It met flesh of the opposite color, with a light shake. Jack Crawford smiled as he wrapped an arm around his wife's waist.
"Dr. Astor, this is my wife, Bella. Bella, Dr. Anna Astor,"
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Jack did not exaggerate your beauty in the slightest," Words so flattering came out of a serious, shining mouth, without the slightest trace of fallacy. Bella Crawford was taken aback, glancing at her husband. He grinned.
"She and Hannibal are quite charismatic. I might have forgotten to mention that," Jack chuckled. Anna shook her head, dismissing the remark. "Where is he, anyway?"
"Working on supper, which should just be about ready. Allow me," Heels flicked across wooden floors, leading the couple to a familiar dining room. They sat across from each other, finding wine already poured into flutes. Eyes caught a large figure pushing through a swivel door with four plates precariously carried on two long arms.
"Hannibal, here," Anna offered, hurrying to take the plates balancing on his coat sleeves. A polite smile thanked her, inconspicuously winking one brown eye. Red lips fought off a grin before the two turned to their guests.
"I heard from the kitchen Jack refer to you as Bella. Are you an Isabella, or Annabelle?"
"I'm a Phyllis," The woman deadpanned, staring at her husband. The two men sat alongside one another, opposite the two females. "Jack only calls me that when we're arguing."
"I think Bella suits you much better. Together, we can be Annabella," Anna joked. The elegant woman seemed hard to please but smiled nonetheless.
Anna Astor fell in and out of the conversations that followed, lost in her own observing world.
Jack Crawford, who came off so rough and tough, was putty in his wife's hands. It wasn't quite obvious, both with strong opinions and attitudes, but their actions proved it. The way he looked at her, watched her lips move as she spoke.
"Do you have any children?" Her thoughts tumbled out before she could stop them. Eyes blinked wide, wanting to swallow the words back. Perhaps I didn't say that out loud. Please, tell me, I did not say that out loud.
"We do. Two sons, both in college," Bella replied. Anna Astor forced a small smile, head tilting in interest.
"What are they studying?"
"I'm afraid we might have rubbed off on them too much. Criminology and forensics," Crawford answered. A dark head nodded, picking over the food left on her plate.
Hannibal's eyes did not waver from her. A familiar, light tremble rang through fingers that clamped onto her wine glass. In one move Anna had nearly drained her cup.
The doctor rose to his feet. He hovered over Bella Crawford, injecting wine into a glass. "Your perfume is exquisite. Like the air after lightening strikes. Is it Jardin?"
The first genuine emotion caught Mrs. Crawford's face: amusement. "That is some nose you have, doctor."
Dr. Lecter barely registered the words answering from his own mouth, now refilling Anna's empty glass.
Fingers grazed across the bones of her spine, covertly slipping beneath delicate material. His fingers pressed into the hollow space between each rib; a gentle squeeze towards his body as he spilled blushing liquid into her awaiting flute. Anna smiled softly. A shaved chin nudged her face before he stood, eyes locked onto Bella Crawford's as he mentioned cancer.
Warm hands wavered on Anna's tense shoulders when he explained the next course, reassuring Bella the pig deserved to die. A twitch ran through his nerves at the word.
Anna looked up, just in time to catch the slight, sudden coldness in Hannibal Lecter's eyes.
"I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back,
The less I give the more I get back."
The music, one sweet voice, was coming from up the stairs.
Feet treading in only socks, silent.
Not from his bedroom, his bathroom. Not his study, the first guest room, the second.
The third, painted a lackluster gray, was set with an attached bathroom. It was the eldest, never used by anyone but him.
"Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise.
I don' t have a choice, but I'd still choose you."
The room, purposely kept dull, for the sole purpose of insuring no one wanting to stay in it. While the master bathroom was grand, it was unlike this one's.
"Oh I don't love you, but I always will.
Oh I don't love you, but I always will.
I always, I always,"
Plain wood floors, olive walls. A window took up one wall, adjacent to the commode.
Stacks of his favorite books lay by a navy clawfoot tub, in the middle of the room.
A clawfoot tub, filled to the brim with white bubbles. Two peach feet were on either side of the spigot.
Anna Astor's face, neck, was floating above the water, singing to herself.
Pink lips quieted, smiled at the sight of the awestruck doctor. She sent a glance to the ceiling and back to his tall form.
"The chandelier is a nice touch," Anna commented. Dark eyes blinked, his body relaxed. Her head rested on the rim of the tub as he slowly ventured closer.
"You move so silently now." Hannibal Lecter noted, sitting on the edge of the porcelain near her legs. Anna sunk in a little more, smile still sweet. "The FBI is training me well, hm?"
"Too well," Hannibal grumbled. The hand reaching to the depths of water was stopped by a narrow foot. A shriek of protest met his ears when he kissed her toes, writhing to break away.
"Hannibal! Do you know how many bloody, gritty dance floors I've walked across? How many times I've ran barefoot outside?!" The wild mess of hair atop her head waved like a tornado with her squirms. Hannibal laughed, kissing up to her ankle.
"You're in a bath, yes? Surely, with the great many salts you used, the dirt has rubbed clean." With ease he pulled her closer. Skin slid down porcelain, revealing more of her leg. Hannibal turned, moving from the rim of the tub to kneeling, kissing her warm, wet skin up to her knee. His eyes found hers, pressing lips to the side of her leg just once more.
Anna pulled away, twisted. A mermaid trapped, leaning over the edge on crossed arms.
They sat, face to face, one on land, one at sea.
Hannibal Lecter's sharp-boned face began to smile at the serious look upon her face.
"Was it him? Was he the pig?" His thumb traced her collarbone lightly, watching as he did so. Finally he nodded.
Anna contemplated this.
"…It was rather good, wasn't it."
The grin was too swift to avoid, baring white teeth at the woman. A crooked smile answered, almost sheepish. And then it slowly faded, eyes lowering with her chin, placed on the same folded arms. Hannibal frowned.
"An-na, what's the matter?"
Blue eyes glanced up, then down. Her lips fought for the right words, ones not too scalding or mild.
"I…When we first met, the first time I came here, you swore never to…To kill me."
"...I frightened you at the cabin, didn't I," Murmured words interrupted. Anna gained courage to look up once more.
His face held an unknown quality, between distraught and regret. Her head rose, leaned towards him.
"You did and you didn't. I knew beforehand that it wasn't your first time, doing it. And it probably won't be your last. That isn't what I was fearful over," A shaky breath filled her, eyes closing.
"…I just don't ever want you to look at me the way you did him. Because that would be the most horrifying, destructive moment of my life,"
Cerulean eyes opened to him. He watched the next words form her mouth in slow motion.
"I'm not afraid of you killing me, Hannibal. I'm afraid of you hating me."
The breathy noises caught her attention.
Anna looked, only to find Hannibal Lecter laughing at her.
Every muscle tensed, unconsciously pulling away.
When he looked at her, with such unfathomable, unreadable emotion, it all began to relax.
"Do you know why I didn't kiss you that first night?" He asked out of the blue. Knitted brows answered. Hannibal gazed at the ground, the tub.
A knowing smile finally leaned to her as he watched her lips.
"I didn't want to kiss you good-bye. That was the trouble of it." Brown eyes found hers, crinkling with his soft confession; "-I wanted to kiss you good-night."
"Hannibal," Anna breathed. His boyish smile grew at her angst. "Hannibal, why do you do this to me, torture me so?"
"You know, surely you must know, it is all for you," He simply murmured. The long sigh out of her lips made him grin, laughing as fingers clenched his shirt, pulled him forth.
"Hannibal," It came from her mouth into his, warming the pit of his stomach. She was pulling him too far, arms tightly around his neck.
"An-na" Nearly a growl from his throat. He felt lips curl, sucking in the corner of his upper lip. Anna pulled with such a sudden force that the clothed man fell into the water, sloshing foam to tiles like a tidal wave.
Her bright, roaring laughter filled the air. It was too loud, obnoxious. Deeper than any noise she had ever made was Anna Astor's true, throaty laugh.
Hannibal could not stop his own laughter, escaping through swelling lips. His white shirt clung like skin, hair damp and bent in strange angles.
The impervious woman before him looked innocently at the ceiling, lifting her arms into the air. His body fell over hers, snaking around the naked chest, holding her weight.
"You are naughty, Ms. Astor," Blue eyes popped wide open, mouth releasing a gasp.
"Oh," Anna sighed, letting her arms cling to his shoulders, "Say that again. Say it again, Hannibal."
"Shall I whisper it against your lips, or your ear?" Long-fingered hands were slowly roaming the curves of her neck, shoulders. Just as they found the curve of her breasts, his hot whisper tickled her ear.
"I have far more clothes on, An-na. It is hardly fair to you."
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