A/N:I'm in Mexico, staying at a resort, and I literally can not stop writing this! Please R and R. I hope you are as taken with this story as I am.
The ache Hannibal felt as he watched Clarice leave the room to change was new to him. Never had he before allowed for himself to want for anything. Unsurprisingly his mind palace hummed with her presence. This was how her hair smelt, here was the softness of her skin. The smell of lavender wafted down to him as the sound of a shower registered. Was she using her hands to wash off the blood? Likely not as her fingers would probably shy away from it. Briefly he allowed his hands to do it for her in his mind. Daydreams were a welcome distraction, but he only allowed himself a brief escape before he turned back to the reality at hand. Satisfaction would have to be achieved through food for now. This he controlled well.
Stepping from the shower she wrapped herself in a towel. The skin it covered was flushed pink from the heat of the water and blood that flowed through her veins. As the wash cloth had removed the remnants of the blood from her skin she had allowed herself to pretend it had been him doing so. Would he have used his hands or his tongue? Easy girl. She calmed her thoughts as she roughly towelled off her hair. The smell of cooking meat greeted her as she took in a deep breath. Realizing she had not eaten all day she hurried to her room to dress.
Looking at all the clothes he had provided her with always left her feeling overwhelmed. How did one guess what would be pleasing to someone's eyes who had seen far more beauty then she could ever bring to a room? Today had been draining on multiple levels and she wasn't up for the challenge of making herself presentable. Picking out a simple pair of sweatpants and a fitted shirt she pulled the clothes over her skin. Her eyes had refused to meet her reflection. Visual confirmation was not needed to confirm the marks the man had left on her skin however. As she slid the shirt over her body the tenderness told her more then a mirror ever could.
A soft knock at her door broke her free from her thoughts. Crossing the room she opened it. What is an acceptable greeting when someone is devouring you with their eyes. None came to her as she allowed a breath to escape from between her lips.
"Are you hungry my dear?" His eyes were taking in her unbrushed hair. They had lingered on the marks on her skin. Slowly they met her own. Briefly she thought perhaps the question in them had not been about food but something deeper.
Had she been too slow to answer? Another question was directed at her. "Are you all right?" He had already asked her this before. Did she look worse now. Still unable to find words she simply nodded her head.
The click of his tongue signified his displeasure with her response. Why could she never leave him searching for what to say? When he moved behind her forming a answer was forgotten. When his hands rested lightly over the bruises the man had left on her skin it ached for a entirely different reason. Soft pressure as he squeezed her waist. The slightest pull pressed her back to his chest.
A breath against her ear carried his words. She shuddered against him as she felt it slide over her skin. "His marks will fade. If however they did not, you would still be my favourite view." Moving his hands to her hair he began to comb his fingers through it. "Simplicity looks ravishing on you, it's a look you can accomplish without your hair having to pay the price though. Allowing her eyes to close she took comfort in his closeness as he brushed her hair. "I made you a meal as I'm sure you're hungry. You have not eaten all day. I would like to talk to you about where we will be heading when you eat." Was it difficult for him to step back from her in that moment? No time was allowed for her to voice her question as he left the room and headed down to where the meal waited for her. Touching her hair where his fingers had been moments before she followed behind him. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation..
The other women probably would have eaten slowly, peppering the meal with flirtatious gestures she did not know. When she saw the chicken breast resting on top of the salad she only paused to grab her fork before she inhaled it. When he set a glass of white wine down on the table she remembered who she was eating in front of and turned red with embarrassment.
His eyes gave nothing away but she had the feeling he was laughing at her on the inside. "Did you taste my efforts?" Was he making fun of her? "I told you that you were hungry. Remember my dear, the glass is not edible." Did he just make a joke? Picking up her wine she took a sip, using the time it provided her to recover.
"If you're quite done pointing out my impeccable table manners, I believe you said we needed to talk about where we are going?"
A smile now, although be it a tentative one. "If you're up to the journey I would like to show you what's left of where I grew up. I could tell you everything in words and see it clearly in my mind. I know you can not do the same. Is this enough to satisfy parts of your curiosity?"
Asking loaded questions when someone was mid drink was not fair she thought, as she choked on her wine. Beat red again she spluttered out a reply. "Where you, where you grew up? Where did you? Yes."
A chuckle came from him then. Seeing you flounder is exquisite my dear. I am glad my plan is agreeable to you. We will leave in the morning. If your able, try to sleep as we have a long journey ahead of us."
Excitement was the cause for the glow in her face although the wine probably enhanced it. Raising the glass she extended it to him. "I can hardly wait." The gentle clink of their glasses echoed through the halls of Hannibal's mind as he gazed upon the woman seated across from him.