DESIRE & DUTY
by MEL

INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
TBC

DESIRE & DUTY

Chapter Ten

It was a testament to Dr. Lecter's distraction that the clumsy-footed observer in the upper hallway went unnoticed as he and Mrs. Starling emerged from the locked bedroom and took the stairs to the lobby. He kept her hand on his arm firmly under his grasp, as she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. His fingers subtly sought the pulse-point on her wrist, and he quashed a smile as he found it thready and looked to her eyes, pleasure mixed with delicious fear making them wide and bright. They managed to exit the building with just a word to the doorman and then they were out into the cold night.

The carriage blinds drawn, Lecter sought out Clarice's pulse once more, pressing his lips to her neck to sense the rushing blood driven by her excitement. The rush of arousal that coursed throughout her body surprised her; every molecule of her body seemed to be instantly ready and impatient for him. Skin a-tingle, head light, she felt a hot wetness she had thought lost to her experience. Her chest swelled upwards with her labouring breaths, and he ran his fingers over her dress, encouraging the growing nubs of her breasts to hardness. She wished for the barriers to be gone, to feel his hot skin on hers, biological memory of long since enjoyed pleasures driving her onwards. His lips hovered inches from hers, their breaths mingling. Her eyes, closed, anticipating his kiss, flickered open when it did not come. His hands continued their lazy exploration of the confines of her dress, his gaze drinking in her expression.
"What? What is wrong?" she breathed.
"Nothing is wrong," he answered in a voice as quiet as her own. "I am merely observing."
Clarice smiled uncertainly.
"It feels uncomfortable."
He did kiss her then, and her mind dizzied some more.
"Intimacy of the body is easy," he said as he drew back from her. "I crave more than satisfying carnal pleasures with your body."
The arousal seemed to sap a little from her body. "I'm not sure I follow," she managed to say.
"No I'm not sure you do. What troubles you?"
How could she answer that? None of the responses that came to mind were becoming of a lady. How could she tell him she had no desire to be a wife again? No desire to be penned into a relationship, no desire to be subsumed once more. She wanted him now, she enjoyed his company, but she was not able to commit her freedom to this endeavour. But then, he had proved himself a man out of time, out of society, almost. No more foolishness, she had determined earlier in the evening.
"I desire you, I do," she finally spoke. "So much right now it is difficult for me to think straight." She blushed faintly in the darkened space. "I just" she struggled to enunciate the notion.
"Go on," he encouraged quietly.
"I do not want to be in the position of a wife again."
She was surprised when he chuckled.
"Oh I could never do such a thing to you. To clip your wings in such a fashion would be unforgivable!"
"But you said you desired more than-"
"That is true, but current social values are not the only code of existence available to us."
Clarice was quiet, mulling over the implications of this.
"You begin to understand, but full enlightenment will come with time. Let us agree, now, only to banish all custom and correctness from governing our behaviour."
She had to laugh, then, a little in relief, and earned herself a smile from him in return. The carriage jerked to a halt, preventing her from reattaching her lips to his, as had been her plan, so joyous was the feeling of liberty his words had restored.

Clarice scouted ahead to dismiss the staff, though so late was the hour that there were very few left. Returning outside she addressed her horseman and bound his confidence, then preceded the Doctor into the house. She swallowed a lump of nervousness as he closed the door behind them and they were alone. How did one do this now, she wondered? Should she offer him a cocktail? How politely could a lady take a man by the hand and drag him up the stairs? Her ditherings were all for nought, as it seemed he had his own ideas. His hands came from behind to her shoulders and removed her coat, then reached around to the fastenings on the front of her dress. She turned impatiently in his arms and pushed his own overcoat from his shoulders, and he smiled in pleasure and encouragement as they continued to disrobe one another. She stopped at his shirt and bit her lip, momentarily nervous.
"It's been a long time," she laughed quietly, apologetic. In response he moved in to kiss her again. His lips' attentions renewed her earlier fervour and she once again grew bold. His tongue slid over hers, an electric sensation, and she took his hand and placed it upon her breast, wantonly. Time seemed to blur and stretch, boundaries at length slipping away. She led him upstairs, a journey of an age, stopping every few steps to further explore her courage. She drew sounds from him that seemed music to her starved soul, and revelled in his enjoyment of her boldness. Her slip and his undershirt were all that remained between them when finally, arriving in the bedroom and unable to draw out the blissful anticipation any longer, she pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and climbed astride him.
"I've been longing for this since I met you," she whispered. "I knew not how to begin."
His eyes were dark and glassy in the dim light of the boudoir as he met her gaze and responded,
"I've been longing for this since I can remember; I knew not where to find you."
The sensation was like a cup filled and brimming over, her desire washing out and over them both. No more thinking, no more concerns, no more good behaviour, this was something entirely other, and she had not realised the gaping hole in her being until it was filled. The rest of the world slipped off the edge of her consciousness, the limits of her universe this bed and the man upon it with her. Hard and real, hot to her touch, she gloried in the autonomy to do and be done to without thought beyond the immediate. His manhood pressed up between her legs, a delicious symmetry to his probing tongue, and she rose up on her knees to take him inside her.

In unison they uttered breathy pleasure, his hands moved to her hips to pull her deeper onto him, and hold her still. Her body adjusted to his intrusion and she closed her eyes at the ecstasy, the sensations so long given up for lost. He began to move her, rocking her gently, fortunate as she seemed to have lost all power of thought and sense, become a vessel with one purpose. She wanted this to go on forever, this languid, unapologetic pleasuring, this union so right. She sought out his mouth and kissed him crushingly, unable to restrain herself from nipping. Their motions gained momentum and he tore his lips from hers and fell to her neck, using his teeth on the pale, thin skin to drive her to further heights of dizzy desire. She continued to ride him shamelessly and with abandon, allowing herself to let go of pretensions and worries and concerns, allowing herself only the physical and mental experience of the act itself, and when he drew back to watch her this time, did not cringe or shy away, but blossomed further, opened up to degrees she had no concept of. His eyes flickered and she heard him, "yes, yes" under his breath, then louder,
"Tell me Clarice"
"It's I can't oh!" He bucked beneath her and he cried out in pleasure, his voice mingling with hers as the sensation of his swelling climax deep inside her pushed her over the edge.

When reality began to creep back into her consciousness, he had fallen back on to the bed and she was lying atop him, hair fanning out over his chest. A hand stroked lazily up and down her back and she sighed contentedly. Only cramping limbs forced her to move some time later, and she fell into a restful slumber beside the Doctor - Hannibal. She supposed they were on first name terms now. The lethargic smile stayed on her lips as sleep claimed her.

A grey dawn was seeping under the curtains to the room when a kiss to her forehead woke her.
"I must be leaving now Clarice."
She nodded muzzily and rolled over in the bed.
"Pray call on me tomorrow," she muttered sleepily.
A pleased laugh was his only reply, and the door clicked shut softly behind him. Clarice fell back to sleep and did not wake until Annie arrived some hours later.

TBC