Warning: Sexually Explicit Content!
Ophelia flung herself back onto the bed, giggling as she bounced away from Will. Arching her back, she wriggled out of her shirt and flung it aside as Will slowly approached the edge of the bed, his shaky fingers finding the covers. His eyes remained fixed on hers, as if he had not given himself permission to see her body.
She knew that she had him entirely under her control. With a bite of her lip and a fiery flare of her eyes, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and slipped them over her hips. As if on command, Will pulled them from her legs and tossed them into the darkness that surrounded the bed.
"What are you waiting for?" Ophelia wined, sitting up and cocking her head to the side, small pieces of her hair falling across her eyes. Will's lips scrambled for words as she scooted toward him, her hands winding lightly over her thighs.
He allowed Ophelia's legs to wind around his waist, pulling him closer and closer. Without thinking, he found his fingers knotting in her hair and a fire growing in the pit of his stomach. His breath caught in his throat as Ophelia ripped open his flannel shirt, nearly popping its buttons. A cold air ghosted over their bare backs. Ophelia shivered.
Suddenly emboldened- perhaps the cold air had awoken him- Will crawled forward on the bed, trapping Ophelia beneath him. His lips found the nape of her neck and travelled downward, eliciting small hums and sighs from the back of Ophelia's throat. His hands skimmed down her sides and came to rest on her hips. When she began to fumble with the buttons on his pants, his grip tightened, fingertips pressing harshly into her flesh.
The cold air was suddenly quite present in the room, as if every window had been opened and winter let in. It skimmed over Will's back; his body acted as a shield, protecting her from the chill entirely. The wind ruffled his hair. Ophelia smiled, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She raked her fingers down Will's back as his hand found the warmth between her legs. Back arched, a gasp escaped her lips and the knot at the base of her stomach tightened. She rolled her hips against his hand and his fingers latched onto her lacy underwear, tearing it from her body. Ophelia did the same to him, shimmying Will's boxers down his legs. With a grunt, he managed to kick them off his legs and into the darkness to join her discarded clothes.
Ophelia's hands trailed down his chest to his hardness; she reveled in the immediate belaboring of breath she had created. Her lips crashing against his, she fumbled her fingers clumsily around him and slowly worked her hand up and down. His hips pressed down against hers, and the knot in her stomach hardened further.
In one deft swoop, Will flipped onto his back, pulling Ophelia atop him. With a unanimous exhalation, she rocked her hips forward so that they were immediately and entirely connected. Will wound his arms around her back, steadying them as she bucked her hips, his length slamming into her.
She tossed her head back, hair beginning to resemble a bramble bush. Her lips parted, short breaths escaping them. Will filled her entirely and held her body in his arms as they felt the heat in their cores begin to blaze, uncontrolled.
But then, suddenly, Ophelia felt a new presence behind her. A new pair of hands clasped her shoulders, and a foreign mouth ravaged her neck.
Will did not seem to notice, but Ophelia's head snapped to the side as her hips continued to rock, her eyes wide. There she found Hannibal, his body entirely exposed and his face taut and fiery in a possessive, animalistic way. His chest pressed into her back, his hands skimming the damp skin of her neck and shoulders. She felt the clasp of her bra snap and it fell away as Hannibal's hands wandered over her chest and his lips hungrily sucked at her neck.
And then his lips disappeared and a cold strip of leather snapped over her throat, clasping behind her, startling her. Ophelia's fingers flew to her neck, tracing the metal studs that adorned her new collar. Hannibal held a leash-like strip of leather in his hand, pulling her back. The further he pulled her, the more distant Will felt, though he remained solidly between her thighs. His hands continued to grasp at her, as if her skin was what bound his contract with gravity.
Ophelia's arms wound around Hannibal's neck, stretching her back into an arch and loosening the pull of the collar ever so slightly. His hands held fast to her lithe figure, one hand on the collar, and the other trailing down from her shoulder, past her chest, and downward.
With one swift motion, he pulled her backward, off of Will, tossing her onto the bed beside him. As if obeying a command, Will slid from the bed mindlessly and wordlessly, coming to stand on the opposite side of the bed as Hannibal's eyes devoured Ophelia's naked body. His face did not betray an emotion as he set the leash onto the bed beside her.
She writhed on the bed, her mind whirring as the heat in the pit of her stomach overwhelmed her. Her hands ran over her body, over her breasts, between her legs, and around her thighs. With an impatient moan, they came to a rigid stop at her sides, fingers knotting in the blanket beneath her.
Hannibal began to circle the bed, rubbing the nape of his neck as he went, his eyes never leaving Ophelia. She rolled about, her hands still exploring her body, so that she was sure he could see every angle of her. She ached for him.
He reached out his fingers and touched her ankle ever so slightly, running them lightly up her calf. She whined and moaned, the knot in her stomach unbearably tight. Hannibal removed his fingers from her skin, the slightest of smirks crossing his lips. He looked over at Will for a moment, who still stood at the end of the bed, watching Ophelia as if she had suddenly become deliciously unattainable.
Relishing in his possession, Hannibal crept forward until he was on his knees above Ophelia. His fingers hooked beneath the collar and he pulled her brusquely upward, startling her for a moment. His kissed her then, and their hungers matched. Ophelia's hands relished the feeling of Hannibal's muscles, taut beneath his damp skin.
His lips never leaving hers, Hannibal pulled her onto his lap, one hand on the collar and the other hooking beneath her thigh. He slammed into her immediately, and her breath caught in her throat, a small squeak escaping her lips. Hannibal worked her hips with his hand, stroking and rocking her back and forth. He bit down on her lower lip as a moan slipped from her mouth. He tasted blood.
But then, over her shoulder, he saw Will. The harried man had suddenly turned stony, his face calm. His eyes burned into Ophelia's back. With one quick movement, Will leapt across the bed, hooking two fingers beneath the back of the collar. He pulled her head back, his hands winding around her neck.
As Hannibal's fingers pressed more and more roughly into Ophelia's hips, Will's teeth nipped at the skin of her collarbone. Her back stretched back, a bridge between Hannibal and Will. They both seemed not to notice the other, focused only on devouring her body. She made no attempts to protest.
Ophelia could feel the knot in her stomach threatening to unravel. Hannibal slammed harder and harder into her, adjusting his position so that she was she was upright, forcing Will to follow, pressing his chest into her back, his lips on her neck and his hands on her chest. She let her head fall onto his shoulder and her arms wind back around his neck as her hips continued to buck and quiver. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt herself begin to climax. Her lips began to form a name...
... and then her head snapped up, slamming back against the worn headrest of the passenger seat in Will's car. Her head whipped around, disorientation blurring her vision.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Will chuckled, glancing over at her, his hands remaining firmly on the the steering wheel, "Nice nap?"
"Wha-" Ophelia blinked hard, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dull grey light that flooded thorough the windshield. Rain pounded down on the roof of the car, creating a rushing sound that nearly drowned out Will's gentle voice.
"Don't worry, I don't mind the silence. I actually prefer the open road when it's quiet. You do talk in your sleep, though."
Ophelia blanched, her mind suddenly clear, "Did I say anything?"
"Nah," Will shook his head, "It was just a lot of mumbling. You hit the hay pretty early last night; I guess fishing is too much for city girls like you. I'm surprised you've slept through this storm."
Relieved, she exhaled. With a yawn, she pulled down the vanity mirror and scrutinized her face. She sported a large red spot where she had fallen asleep forehead-down on the window. Her hair was a bed headed mess, pulled into a hasty ponytail at the crown of her head. What little makeup she had applied at the ungodly hour that Will had insisted they leave had stayed intact, much to her relief.
She glanced over at Will and her face burned red. He stared at the road ahead, his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. His face betrayed no knowledge of her dreams; and what vivid dreams they had been. For the slightest of moments, Ophelia wondered if there was any accuracy in what she had envisioned of Will. She shuddered, a knot in her stomach. The cave, the pond, the moonlight... it was all a bit overwhelming to awaken from. And she knew not whether she wished it to be true.
For a while, they sat in silence. Ophelia stewed in the aftershocks of her imagination and Will remained a stoic rock at the helm. The rain continued to pound well into the afternoon, and when it finally stopped they found themselves nearly crossing the Maryland border. When it was quiet enough, Ophelia turned on the radio, desperate for something to cut the silence.
"FBI continue to search for the victims of recent murders. Baltimore-based agent Jack Crawford has declined to release a statement, but sources claim that these murders follow the pattern of the Chesapeake Ripper. I thought that was all over, but I guess not. What do you think, Tom?"
"Well, Reed, I don't know what to think, but I do know that since all previous suspects have been cleared, this guy is still out there."
"Stay safe, Baltimore. Now let's switch to something a little lighter. What do you say?"
"Sure, Reed, let's talk about the lunar eclipse that's coming up this Wed-"
Will shut off the radio, his brows furrowed and his mouth pulled into a grimace. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. His glasses had begun to slip down the bridge of his nose.
"There's that Chesapeake Ripper again..." Ophelia sighed, "Seems like I'm hearing that everywhere nowadays. Came out of nowhere."
"He's been around longer than you may realize," Will huffed, his teeth clenched.
"What do you mean?"
Will took a deep breath, as if waiting for the correct words to form themselves in his mind, "Did I ever tell you about my job?"
"Teaching, right? Yeah, you've told me a little bit."
He shook his head, "Before that."
"Before teaching? Nope."
"Well, I worked for the FBI before I was a teacher. Criminal profiler in the lab and in the field. 'Special Investigator', I was called."
"'Special Investigator Graham'. That's got a nice ring to it," Ophelia grinned. She could feel the tension in the air, and she wanted desperately to cut it.
Will did not return her smile, "There wasn't anything 'special' about it. The things I've seen weren't 'special'. It's easy to let these things get into your mind, to taint the way you see the colors of the world around you."
"What do you see?" It was as if all the oxygen had left the space between them. Ophelia suddenly felt very small. Will's face sat in hard lines.
"I see your relationship with Hannibal Lecter," he snapped, "and I see it as a danger."
"Why?" Ophelia was taken aback.
"Doctor Lecter and I were friends once. I thought I had found a kindred spirit, someone I could rely on when my... when my mind was not big enough for my thoughts. I understand that he is fond of you. And I also understand that you yearn to recover your memories of him. But-"
"But what?" Ophelia suddenly found herself agitated, "Two different versions of my life are being thrown at me by you and Alana on one hand, and Hannibal on the other." Why he was suddenly prying so deeply into her mind, she could not understand. He could not presume to tell her who she could or could not see. She was an adult after all.
"But," Will took a deep breath, choosing to ignore the truth in her accusation, "Hannibal Lecter is not a good man. He is smart, too smart. Smart enough to have cumulated an insatiable curiosity concerning the inner mechanisms of the human mind. Pulling at the strings, he... he is concerned with you and anyone else for no other reason than to wind you up and see how you tick. I know this firsthand."
"How?"
"We... worked on a case together. Back in my FBI days. He was my psychiatrist, so perhaps the idea of us working together is inappropriate. Psychiatry blown into morbid fascination. Hannibal has a way of... I got too close to the case. It affected me in a way no one expected. Empathy, they called it."
"Empathy," Ophelia echoed.
"In an extreme sense," Will's lip twitched into a grim smile, "Hannibal enjoyed... prodding me, testing me like a rabid rat in a maze with no end. He is the reason I am so..." His voice trailed off. Ophelia nodded; there was no need for him to continue. She often heard his strangled cries in the night, watched him from the shadows as he paced about in the moonlight, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Ophelia would never have guessed that Hannibal would be the cause of that. Handsome, kind Hannibal who she thought she knew.
Angry heat flared in her chest as she watched Will. His face contorted as if he were remembering a lifetime of horrors. She wished to know more, but was wise enough not to prod and pry.
"Once you crumple a piece of paper, you can never smooth it out again. It'll never be clean again, no matter how diligently you work at the wrinkles," Will muttered, "I won't see you soiled. Not like me."
Ophelia reached her fingers out toward him, and his hand immediately found hers, as if she were the only thing anchoring him there in the universe.
"There's nothing wrong with you, if that's what you're implying," Ophelia squeezed his hand, turning her body so that she faced him. His eyes remained on the road.
Will shook his head, "It's not me I'm worried about."
"I'm a big girl, Will," she smiled ruefully, "I can take care of myself. And you, too."
He said nothing.
"I may not know what your past with Hannibal was like, but I do know that since I'm around nothing's going to touch you," she squeezed his hand tight, and his face flushed.
"You have yourself to worry about-"
"I'm not going anywhere."
While Ophelia's face remained placid, her interior whirred with the heat of a thousand angry thoughts and questions. As she stared straight ahead at the road before them, her hand still latched onto Will's, she yearned to stand face-to-face with Hannibal. What had he done to Will that caused him such grief, such fear? If he truly was the cause of Will's emotional deterioration, she would surely make Hannibal pay for it. The fierce protection she felt for Will would not let her act otherwise, that much she knew for sure.
The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time they reached Alana's house. The sound of barking accompanied the flicker of light that illuminated Alana as she stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a robe and a forced smile. She received them with stilted warmth, taking Ophelia's single bag and insisting she shower and get to bed. Will hung behind, stooping to greet each of his dogs individually.
Ophelia stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned back to Will. She watched him for a moment, thinking of what lay in the unknown of his seemingly dark past. She yearned to learn the truth. And if Alana and Will wouldn't give it to her entirely, there was only one place to which she could turn.
Before falling into a fitful sleep, Ophelia stared at her notepad. Hannibal Lecter glared up at her from the yellow page. Heated images from her vivid dream flashed through her mind, but they were streaked with black, tainted by Will's claims.
She shut the notepad and allowed herself to settle under the covers. Tomorrow, whether she was sure of it or not, Ophelia would have to choose a side. To pledge her allegiance to one side of the war or the other.
Which side she would choose, she did not know.