V

No one compares to you

Notes : Sometimes, strange things happen when I'm writing. The characters take control and I become their instrument. That is what happened with this chapter.

Thanks to Astrid for her valuable help.

Our new vehicle smelled of mud and gasoline. It was an old SUV that we had found on the parking lot of a supermarket. Perfect for staying discrete. We had just left a gas station where we'd fuelled up and bought a cap for Hannibal, with the cash I had left. The hat pulled down over his head made him look younger. The subterfuge was not very subtle, but I was hoping it would be enough if we ran into a roadblock. I also gave him a khaki jacket which I kept at all times in my trunk, just in case. The set really made him look like a hunter now. However, this left me with a simple sweater on my back and the heating was not as effective as that of my own car. Not to mention that car was about as sealed as a sieve. And I shivered from the draft, while the minor road that I had chosen scrolled past the windows.

After a few miles, Hannibal wordlessly undid his safety belt to remove his jacket, before leaning over me and wrapping it over my shoulders. I leaned forward to facilitate his handling without taking my eyes off the road. I don't know why I let him do it. I think I was just tired, exhausted emotionally as much as physically, and I preferred to wrap up myself in the thick and warm fabric which held his scent. I closed my eyes for a split second and had the impression of having his arms around me. Then, without comment, I continued to drive towards the address that he had given me.

I don't know how he found it. But knowing the name and personality of the man must have helped. He spoke only to give me directions, as if he had decided temporarily to leave me in peace, and I finally parked near a mansion made of rough stones with rounded towers. It seemed like a chapel. We got out of the car and made the rest of the way on foot, in the dark.

On top of a staircase with a central wrought iron railing, under an impressive arch, there was a wide front door. Silently, we walked up stairs to the heavy door decorated with stained-glass windows. Through a window with drawn curtains, the dim light of a lamp pierced the dark night, irrefutable proof of his presence.

I simply reached out with my hand rang the doorbell. I saw Hannibal skulk off to conceal himself in the shadows. He wanted to play. So be it. There would be only the Great Red Dragon and the Lamb tonight.

A shadow loomed behind the glass panes. A shadow that seemed gigantic, for a second, before taking the outline of a masculine silhouette.

"Who's that?" Asked a cavernous, deep voice, as if the fire was burning in his throat.

The voice of the Dragon.

"Will Graham." I replied, putting my hand on the door, as if to feel his presence.

The glass appeared to vibrate under my palm. Then finally, the door opened to make way for Francis Dolarhyde dressed in a silk dressing gown. I immediately recognized the man and the power that emanated from him. I could almost see the smoke coming out of his nostrils. I knew his strength, I had been able to confront it when he had violently pressed me against the wall of the elevator, before throwing me to the ground. So when he moved aside without a word to let me in, my whole body tensed as I passed him. The stifling heat radiating off him enveloped me and I took off my jacket before entering a large living room. The ticking of a small clock, ancient tapestries, master paintings, brick, wood, books, rich decoration, a large Louis XV sofa on which I dropped my jacket, before turning towards him.

The Dragon's Den. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

He took a step toward me.

"You came to kill me."

His hand grabbed the belt of his dressing gown and pulled to untie the knot.

"You want to face the Dragon. I don't know how you found me but you'll understand that I cannot let you out of here alive."

The flowing fabric slid over his broad shoulders and pooled on the ground without a sound, as he turned around me. I followed the movements of his massive body dressed in simple black boxers, his muscles bulging under his skin made golden by the light of lamps, until he passed behind me. I turned my head to the other side, to see him reappearing on my right. Between his shoulder blades, a pair of red, huge, skeletal and membranous wings stretched across the room. A scaly, reptilian, endless tail trailed on the floor. I could finally see him as he saw himself. And I had to admit the magnificence of this creature. Of his transformation.

"Do you think you're up to it, Will Graham?" He asked, coming to rest in front of me.

My hands curled into fists, my heartbeat accelerated, adrenalin coursed through my veins, my breathing became deeper. I unsuccessfully tried to abandon the idea that we were going to fight for him. I tried to forget that Hannibal had put Francis in my path to prove to me that he could be interested in someone other than me.

He held out a hand to a table and quickly grabbed an object that I didn't have time to notice. Then he raised it to his mouth, before opening his lips to slide it inside. I saw the dentures when he growled at me. He threw himself at me and I couldn't dodge him. His powerful arms encircled me, squeezing my breath away. He tried to bite my neck, but I forced myself out of his grip, before stumbling on the couch behind me, a hand stretched before me to push him away. He fell upon me. The ceramic bit into my biceps, a cry of pain escaped me. I freed myself, almost breaking my phalanx against his cheekbone, blood abundantly flowing under the torn sleeve of my sweater, staining the tissue, but he grabbed my clothes, lifted me as if I weighed nothing and threw me across the room. Crashing into the wall knocked me out, my back violently slammed into the ground and I sat up with difficulty. In two steps he was on me again. His knee collided with my nose. The pain blinded me. A robust hand squeezed my throat and lifted me against the tapestry. An inarticulate sound passed my lips, my blood pulsed in my ears, my vision darkened and my lungs burned. I planted my nails into his cheek, scratched his face to make him let go, while the oxygen rapidly abandoning me. I shook my legs in the void beneath my feet, kicked his shins, but nothing helped.

In the fog of suffocation, I clearly heard the rumbling of hooves on the floor. In the corner of my eye, I saw the stag enter the living room and then disappear into the back of the Dragon. A smile took shape on my bloody lips, just before the antlers pierced his abdomen and pulled him away from me. I fell to the ground, coughing like a madman, on the edge of unconsciousness. Eyes closed, I heard the dragon roar.

"Why?"

"Because he belongs to me, Francis. And he cannot die from other hands than mine." Hannibal replied.

Rage shook my body again. I found the strength to stand up and face them. In the middle of the room, Hannibal hardly controlled Francis, an arm tightened around his naked chest and hand pressed to his forehead to pull his head back, exposing his neck.

A roar rose through chest, vibrating in the air. My lips curled. In three steps, I was on him. My claws gashed his ribs. My teeth bit profoundly into his offered throat. The skin tore, blood invading my mouth, hot and fluid; it splashed my cheeks and my clothes when the enamel pierced his carotid. His cry made me tremble to the core in satisfaction. Over his dirtied shoulder, I shared a look with Hannibal, who didn't release his grip while Francis was convulsing against his chest. I closed my eyes, savoring the metallic taste on my tongue before tightening my jaw and tearing off the flesh. The carmine liquid spattered, dirtied my face, my chest, and warmed me. I spat out the tissue, while Hannibal left the massive and muscular man crashing to the ground like dead weight.

His breathing was heavy and deep, where mine was chopped and irregular. He gazed at me with his almost black eyes, looking me up and down, his eyes pinning me on the spot. He stepped over the dying creature at his feet which desperately clung to its last breath, and slowly approached. I moved back until felt the wall against my back. He leaned in and I thought he was going to eat me, before his lips came crashing down unto mine. His teeth scratched at me, forced me to open my mouth and his tongue caressed mine in a devastating kiss. And I caught fire. An insatiable hunger twisted my stomach, my hands went behind his back, grabbed his shirt and pulled at it. The already worn out seams protested, threads snapped and the fabric was torn, revealing a square of skin that I eagerly licked and nipped at. I couldn't breathe anything but his heady scent. He lifted my sweater and my shirt, passed them over my head, before throwing them away. Eagerly, I finished removing the tattered cloth that barely covered him and he pushed me back to the wall. His rough tongue collected the blood on my chin and then he kissed me again, as if he wanted to merge with me. One of his hands cascaded over my stomach which contracted from the contact, opened my pants, before diving into my boxers. The sensation of his fingers around me, failed to make me lose my mind and a groan escaped me, my teeth imprisoned his lower lip. He growled at the bite and suddenly pulled at my jeans to remove them too. The denim crawled down my legs, taking with it my underwear, to rest at my ankles. I kicked them away, as well as my shoes and then realized I was naked in front of him.

He stepped back to admire his work. My bare skin covered with sweat and blood, my chaotic breath, my wet and messy hair. He licked his lips, eyeing me intently, before dropping to his knees in front of me. He pressed his cheek against my thigh, licked my groin and the whole length of my cock before making it slide in the heat of his mouth. My hands tightened on his hair. A vulgar exclamation passed my lips and vibration of his laughter shook my lower abdomen. He sucked, played divinely his tongue, firmly immobilizing my hips, and I couldn't take my eyes off him, while I totally lost control. He took me to the edge of the breaking, then nipped his way along my chest, ending his trail in a deep kiss, before suddenly pulling me up to a door not far away.

He opened it and we entered a chamber where a king-size bed throned. There was certainly other furniture but it was the only one that caught my attention. I abruptly pushed him there and he fell on his back. Greedily, I removed his last pieces of clothing before climbing on him and kissed his lips again. He returned my embrace, before reversing our positions and dumping me on the mattress. He slipped between my legs, pressed his erection to mine and my nails scratched his shoulder blades. His hand caressed my cheek. I lost myself in his eyes. He brushed his fingers to my lips and I took two of them between my teeth, before rolling up my tongue around them. He sighed, put his lips on my neck and marked me as his, before recovering his wet digits to make a way into my flesh. The new and exhilarating feeling made me bend me over the sheets and he reveled in seeing me like this, delving deeper into me. He played me as an instrument, the raving sounds he was able to tear out of me, savoring the vision of my shivering body, the taste of my skin. His intoxicating and suffocating presence between my legs deprived me of my self-control, extracting insane pleas to which he deliberately avoided answering. The impression of burning from the inside, without finding satisfaction, put me out of patience and I sat up to cling to his neck, before pushing him onto the bed and climb on him. He received me in his arms, surprised, admiring me perched on his hips.

"You're beautiful." He whispered. "You don't know how much."

Without answering, uncomfortable to be as exposed to his gaze, I leaned over his broad chest, kissed the thin skin of his ribs, licked his firm stomach, rubbed my nose against the fine hair of his groin and inhaled his haunting scent. His imposing erection pressed against my cheek and I pointed my tongue to appreciate its flavor. He had a taste of paradise. Or was that of hell? I took his cock in my mouth and he threw his head back on the pillows, squeezing my shoulder. A groan echoed through the room and it was my turn to torture him. Ignoring my inexperience, I focused on the reactions of his body languid under me, for long minutes, until he trembled under the caress of my tongue. I released him, watched him for a moment, while he seemed to be waiting to see my next move. Surprised that he let me run the show, I gave him a delicious kiss which seemed endless, before impaling myself on his dick. He grabbed my butt, while he pushed slowly into me. The burn went up and down my spine, I felt him penetrating into my flesh, take possession of my being. His fingers tightened on my waist, he lifted his pelvis and filled me completely. My cry pierced the silence, my muscles contracted because of the pain.

His hands calmed me, almost tender, while he waited for me to begin moving, resisting the desire move me himself. He straightened, circled my chest and nestled his nose into my neck. We stayed like that for a moment, or was it an eternity, anchored into each other as a single entity. Then he made us switch to the side and regained control, before moving slowly into me. My legs wrapped themselves around his back to take him deeper. His lips found mine in a carnal and ardent kiss, my hands were lost in his hair and clung to his shoulders. He took me with more strength and passion and saw me sinking little by little. When the pleasure finally made me arch against him, he accelerated the rhythm losing his control. His sweaty skin slid against mine. His breath, his sighs, got lost in my mouth. My nails dug into his body, left marks. His teeth nibbled at my skin. And I almost gasped in our warm embrace. He slipped an arm between our bellies, grabbed my cock, before caressing it expertly, losing himself more ardently in me. The pleasure increased by ever more devastating waves and I was on the precipice. His face twitched, his eyelids closed and I knew that he was there too. I arched myself a little more on the bed, pulled on the sheets, unable to control the need to come undone that burned in my lower abdomen, or the pleading tone of my hoarse voice. And he redoubled his efforts, lost to the wild pace of his thrusts, when I finally exploded in his hand and that orgasm shattered my mind. I felt him tense against me, losing all sense of reality, while he muffled his cry against my lips.

I hugged him against me with all my strength, kept him in my arms, long after our bodies were appeased and the silence slowly filled the room lit only by the light coming from the living room. For long minutes, he kissed me leisurely, as a serenity that I never thought possible established itself between us. The calm after the storm. Or were we just in the eye of the cyclone?

When my arms eventually fall gently on the mattress, he carefully pulled out of me before lying down beside me, without breaking the physical contact. We looked at each other in silence, face to face under these covers that didn't belong to us, in this room that wasn't ours, in this house where the owner was always lying in the lounge. It should have disturbed me, but, exhausted, I quickly fell asleep.