Clarice is satisfied.

More satisfied than she had ever been in all her life, as a point of fact. She might have even blacked out after losing count over how many times he made her come. It was rough and messy and incredible, just like she wanted. Maybe when she was alone, she might worry about how much she had wanted exactly what he gave her and how much she enjoyed it.

It wasn't that she wanted him to hurt her or use his power to control her or anything like that. That much she understood about herself. No, what Clarice wanted from Hannibal was for him to lose control with her, for him to unleash the passion she knew for a fact lurked beneath his elegant manners and luxurious proclivities. This was a man of terrible, horrible violence. It was not directed at Clarice, and she very truly believed it never would be. He had proven too many times that he cared for her, that he wanted to protect her and lavish her with pleasure and joy. But Hannibal was also so measured and cautious in so many ways, and having him let that go when they had sex was just incredible.

The other thing she loved about it was the way they could play off each other. Clarice herself was not really a violent person, but she was a very physical person. She was stronger than people might give her credit for, though that wouldn't last long if she kept lazing around the house the way they'd been doing these last months. If Hannibal could be more physical and wild and energetic in their sex life, she could push back. And the interplay between them, the way they were matched, the way they seemed to be able to complement each other, that was what she wanted. And now he had given it to her. It was definitely worth her discomfort and embarrassment at having to ask for it.

It still was strange, realizing that Hannibal was not a mind reader. He knew her better than any person ever had, living or dead, but he still did not know everything. She wondered how he felt, being humbled like that. They both saw now that he was not as infallible as they might have once thought. She smirked at the thought.

"Why are you smiling like that, my Clarice?" Hannibal asked.

"You gave me a lot to smile about," she quipped.

Clarice shifted where she sat, stretching a little. She and Hannibal were seated in the enormous bathtub. The hot water covered them both to soothe their well-used muscles.

Hannibal's hands had been around her waist, hugging her close to him. But he removed his hands now and turned slightly to dry his hands. She had her head resting back against his shoulder, eyes closed as she rested.

Something cold touched Clarice's neck, making her jump slightly. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I need to clean the wound. This might sting."

Clarice braced herself, knowing what was coming. The bite on her neck had been erotic in the moment. Now, though, the eroticism was gone. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, but the healing process was gonna be a bitch.

He sanitized the wound, making her hiss in pain, but she remained still and patient while he worked. His hands were so soft against her skin, so gentle. Now, like this, she reveled in his care. Hannibal covered the wound with a bandage and feathered his kisses over it and up her neck. His hands returned to her waist beneath the water as he held her close to him.

"That feels nice," she breathed, turning her head so he had better access to her skin.

"You are precious to me, Clarice. I wish to care for you in whatever way I can, however you want and need."

She smiled. "And you do."

He pressed a firmer kiss to her neck. "I thank you for it."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"There are not many in your life that you have allowed yourself to be vulnerable enough for in order to be cared for. I recognize the honor of it. The trust you have placed in me is very valuable to me."

A year ago, Clarice would have never imagined that Hannibal Lecter would say those words. She may have thought that he might think those things. She had an inkling from their time together over the Buffalo Bill case that he had an interest in her. An interest that might have grown into affection and, if given the opportunity, might grow into more than that. Clarice might have imagined that Hannibal Lecter might value her and treat her with this kind of care, but she had not imagined that he would ever actually say it. Not out loud, at least. He had a way with those letters he'd written her. He liked to be poetic. Cryptic. But this was a very plain, clear expression of his feelings for her.

At least, Clarice thought that's what it was. She thought that his words were as plain and simple as they could be. She thought that he had said all there was to say.

Until he said something more.

Hannibal's hands moved over her belly under the water and his tender kiss on her jaw made her relax and hum with pleasure. And then he whispered in her ear, "I love you, Clarice."

She stiffened at those words. It had been a long time since any man said those words to her. Longer still since any man meant them. And though everything inside Clarice's head screamed at her that Hannibal the Cannibal could not love, that he was too damage and unable to feel love in any real, human way, it was not her brain that Clarice listened to right now. Because in her heart, she believed him.

Jesus Christ, she believed him.

What the fuck was happening to her!? First she gets off on Hannibal Lecter biting her during sex and then she starts believing he could be in love with her? Yet even as her mind was spinning, Clarice felt her body relax in his embrace. Her heart wasn't racing, like she might have expected it to. His words took her by surprise, obviously, but shew as starting to lean into the words. To believe them. To feel them. He loved her. And there was a warmth of joy spreading within her as she sat in the bath in his arms. In the arms of a man who loved her.

It would take her a little time to come to terms with it fully. Even if she felt she believed it, her doubt and confusion would not evaporate immediately. That was alright. She wasn't going anywhere. They were together in this place, and Clarice had no intention of leaving anytime soon. She did not want to leave this place. She did not want to leave his arms.

Where it left her, though, was wondering about whether she reciprocated his feelings. Did she love him? She cared for him deeply. That was something she could admit now. She had always been intrigued by him. Interested in him. Fascinated and captivated by him. Even when she knew she shouldn't, when Jack Crawford cautioned her against it, Clarice had wanted to be close to Hannibal. She wanted to learn from him in every way she could. And as time went on, she grew to care for his safety and his freedom. Even if she was trying to catch him and put him back behind bars, the smallest part of her hidden deep in her heart just wanted to find him and be with him again like they used to. A part of her had wanted him for a long, long time.

But so much had changed since then. She'd saved his life. He had saved hers. Many times over, each. And he had worked on her, helped her heal from those childhood scars that marred her every interaction and motivation. She had chosen to stay here with him, to learn how to cook and to speak Italian, to read and talk and eat with him, to have sex and fall asleep in his arms. She had chosen that. And she wouldn't have chosen that if she didn't love him, right? Wasn't that what love was? Wasn't it this feeling of contentment and joy and excitement? And really, had Clarice ever actually been in love before? She wasn't sure. About any of it.

Hannibal broke the silence between them, seeing that she wasn't going to answer his declaration of love. But he was patient, and he would allow her the time and space to process it all. He knew her well enough to know she'd need it. For now, though, he said, "I think the time is drawing close for us to leave this place."

"To get out of the bath?" she quipped.

"To get out of this country."

Clarice frowned. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Maryland. Not too far from Muskrat Farm, actually. The house has been rented from a German man and prepaid in cash, everything that I have ordered was shipped to multiple different addresses and brought here in a truck that I also paid cash for. I do the shopping for us across a number of different cities so I do not frequent the same stores too often."

"You've always been careful," she noted.

"I have," he agreed. "It was especially important during this time as you recovered and we found our way, I think."

"Yeah, it's been good. But I guess we can't stay here forever."

"No. This was never meant to be a permanent residence."

"Where would we go?" she asked, curious about what his future plans were.

"I have purchased a house in Buenos Aires."

Clarice hadn't known what to expect, but Argentina surprised her for some reason. But it stood to reason that he would pick a country without extradition. "Were you there after your escape?" she asked.

"Shortly after I recovered from my first cosmetic surgeries, yes, but I left about six years ago and have not been back since."

"Will you use the same identity?"

She felt him smile against her cheek. He was pleased that she was thinking of these things. It gave her a small swell of pride. Hannibal kissed her cheek. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On you."

"Me?"

"Yes," he answered. "I could return to my home in Argentina as the same person I was when I left and recommence my life there. Or I could go there as a cousin of the owner who inherited the house when my cousin died and decide to live there permanently with my wife. I have made initial preparations for the papers we would need. It is up to you, Clarice, to decide if you would like to join me in Argentina under a new name."

"As your wife."

"For your identity, yes. We need not have any marriage ceremony. That is your choice."

Clarice frowned again, thinking. She would not insult him by asking him if he wanted to marry her. He had just told her that he loved her. He wouldn't have said it if he did not intend for her to know the depth of his feeling. And he wouldn't have asked her to come to Argentina with him in any capacity if he was not committed to being with her for the rest of their lives.

Hannibal interrupted her thoughts, saying, "The matter is not urgent. You do not need to make any decisions now. But we will need to decide soon."

"Okay," she answered finally. "I need to think about it."

"I assumed you would. And I shall leave you to your thoughts, Clarice. Now, though it is well into the day, and we need to eat. I shall make us something while you finish your bath and get dressed." He gave her one more kiss, this time over the bite wound he'd left on her. "Keep the bandage dry."

And with that, he got out of the bath, leaving Clarice to her thoughts.