BLOODY MURDER
Knowing there would be but one opportunity to take hold of the animal before it attacked Clarice, Hannibal was desperate to reach her in time. Listening intently he heard his own footfalls striking the loose earth, but on concentrating further eliminated the stimuli to focus solely on the movement of the cat. The precise moment he perceived the shifting sand beneath the cat's large paws he recognized the animal had left the ground. Barely a heartbeat passed after the cat leapt to strike at Clarice. Hannibal held his breath and vaulted, stretching his muscles to the limits of their capacity, his nostrils flaring widely as one quick inhalation would tell him exactly where the animal was in relation to his wife.
Just over her right shoulder.
He barked his command to her. "Clarice, drop left…Now!"
Her FBI training kicking into high gear, Clarice dropped, tucked her body and rolled to the left, away from the sound of Hannibal's voice. She trusted her husband knowing he was in his element, certain that his highly tuned instincts would tell him exactly where the animal would be.
Hannibal quickly grabbed the beast, wrapped his arms around it and dragged it down with him. The cat let out a screeching growl as the pair slammed on the ground.
Clarice listened, horrified upon hearing Hannibal's deep groans in response to the animal's claws gripping his shoulders. As the cat scrambled Hannibal rolled over quickly, grappling to maintain the physical advantage all the while struggling to avoid the cat's razor sharp teeth. The claws were unavoidable.
Clarice's body hit the ground with an unceremonious thud causing clouds of dust to swirl around her. The impact of the fall forced her head to snap back, her chest to hit the sand and the wind to burst from her lungs.
The weapon dropped from her hand.
"H! The gun! I dropped the gun!"
Hannibal did not answer as he and the cat were attempting to force the other into submission. Thrashing and twisting, each struggling to overpower the other, Hannibal's muscles ached from the exertion but he would give no quarter.
Clarice struggled to see what was happening, though her efforts were futile as her eyes were not accustomed to seeing in limited light. This was one of the predatory gifts Hannibal possessed as he was able to see quite clearly in near darkness; his unusual eyes suited to the muted illumination of moonlight.
Clarice could see flashes of him wrestling with the panther on the ground, clouds of sand and dust erupting from their exertion. Hannibal posted up and as the moonlight glinted across his features, Clarice could see that spark reflecting off the back of his eyes. The flash of that something she had mistaken as anger.
Seeing it now in the moonlight Clarice recognized that it wasn't anything as common as mere anger. His eyes glowing like a tiger, Hannibal appeared otherworldly as the volcanic, unadulterated combustion, both primitive and visceral radiated from his crimson eyes. Clarice could not deny the pre-historic and animalistic nature of it. In this, his natural state he was untamed, savage and raw. Few people had seen his true nature. Clarice was the only one alive who could tell of it.
She had seen only the quickest flash of it when he returned from his trip to the waiter's home. She saw it again when he glanced briefly at the crime scene photos. He could attempt to deny it. He could attempt to repress it but it was obvious that no matter how hard he tried… he could not extinguish it. He could not avoid that primitive glow…the true nature of what dwelled deep within him.
Clarice scrambled on her hands and knees desperate to find the weapon to help her husband. She frantically searched, floating her palms over the surface of the sand in an unsuccessful attempt to find the weapon.
Clarice could hear the impact of Hannibal's body as he collided, mid-air with the mountain lion. The sounds were terrifying. Primordial snarls and growls echoed in the darkness, a deep roar rolled up from his throat as Hannibal's shoulder crashed into the animal and the cat's claws pierced his back.
The cat twisted and kicked in an attempt to liberate itself. The dew claws ripped Hannibal's trousers causing the blood to flow freely down his leg, his tense quadriceps opening to the claws. He forced his right forearm under the chin of the mountain lion, arched his back, rocked his body forward and leaned with all his might stretching the cat's neck thus exposing it.
Hannibal's heart pounded out a deep, slow rhythm, the force of which grew not from fear but rather the rage of adrenaline coursing through his system. Time seemed to wane, every moment, every movement exaggerated. Even the powerfully deliberate thumping of the heart slowed as if being suspended between each beat.
Twisting the cat's body with his powerful frame, Hannibal felt as though he could bend time itself to his will. Adrenaline pouring through his system unchecked he felt a surge of power as he shifted his hips to gain leverage, forcing his weight against the animal's body as drool poured between his shoulders. He could smell the hot breath on his cheek.
This is fun.
Grasping the animal's flesh Hannibal twisted it to secure his grip. He could feel the muscles ripple beneath the cat's soft fur, the tripping pulse revealing the animal's panic. Hannibal relished the terrified growls of protestation directly roaring in his ears, the vibration of which punched against his ear drum like the baseline of a Wagner piece.
Deciding it would be better to end this situation sooner rather than later, he wrapped his left arm around the puma and reached for his Harpy with his right. The big cat's teeth captured Lecter's skull in its open jaw. Hannibal thumbed the blade open and just as the teeth pressed into his flesh he drove the blade under the cat's jaw and ramming it up and back.
Hannibal growled low and threatening as he forced the hooked tip of the Harpy into the animal's throat. He dragged the blade so deeply that it scraped between the vertebrae as it severed the spinal cord. He did not release the animal's heart pulsed its last.
The large cat was dead.
It had been quite some time since Hannibal had felt so alive.
Clarice could not see what was happening but upon hearing the silence, panicked, not knowing how much damage Hannibal was incurring to save her from the attack.
"H? I lost the flashlight. I don't know what's happening. Talk to me H…please, talk to me!"
"I am fine, Clarice."
Clarice reached blindly. Hannibal could see her quite clearly and took her hand. She could feel the sticky serum covering him.
"Is that your blood or is it blood from the cat?"
"One assumes it to be a combination of both."
"I dropped my gun."
"Not to worry my Love, your weapon will still be here in the morning. I will retrieve it when I return to dispose of the carcass."
Quickly standing, Hannibal helped Clarice to her feet. She placed her arms around him causing Hannibal to flinch. Clarice jumped back and released him. Hannibal reached for her again.
"Please do not concern yourself with my injuries. I need to hold you close to me, Clarice. There is the scent of blood in the air."
"You're hurt."
"Slightly, but much more important to me Clarice is that you are not. Please, come to me."
She wrapped her arms around his neck very loosely so as not to cause him discomfort. Hannibal lifted her and began to carry her in the direction of the house. He could feel her heart pound against his body. "Clarice? Your heart rate is very high."
She placed a comforting hand on his chest and could feel that Hannibal was not similarly affected. "That's because I'm terrified…I can't believe you aren't."
"There are many emotions surging through me Clarice, however fear is not among them." Hannibal lowered his head to hers and began to kiss her rather roughly.
Clarice pulled back from him but Hannibal didn't notice the slight as they had reached the house and he was concentrating on unlocking the door. He pushed through, closed the door and reactivated the security system with his wife still in his arms.
Now in the full light of the foyer, Clarice could see the damage Hannibal incurred very clearly.
"H, put me down…you're dripping in blood. Let me look at you."
He lowered her gently so that she was standing, facing him. Clarice reached up and stroked the side of his face and captured his chin between her thumb and index finger. She turned his chin up and down and from side to side in order to examine his head and both sides of his face. Hannibal allowed the inspection and did not speak. He was staring at Clarice…his wounds were the last thing on his mind.
"You've got gashes everywhere. I think that thing bit the top of your head."
"The animal wasn't exactly a willing participant in the process, Clarice."
"Why did you go out there at night? You know how dangerous it is!"
"It was more dangerous for the animal…" Hannibal mused. "…but far more to the point Clarice…knowing the danger, why did you follow?"
"I thought you might need me…I wanted to help."
"I am not your lamb, Clarice."
"Shut up."
Clarice swept the blood soaked hair back from Hannibal's face. She looked deep into his eyes and saw what she had seen earlier, what she thought had been anger. His eyes were ablaze.
"How do you feel, H?"
"Magnificent." He grabbed Clarice, slipped his hands down the back of her jeans, pulled her against him and kissed her. There was nothing of his usual tenderness toward her in this kiss. It was urgent and aggressive.
Clarice pushed him back. "No."
"Pardon, Clarice…did you just say no?"
"You're dripping in blood. It's disgusting."
Hannibal lifted his wife and carried her to the master suite. Seeing the door partially opened, Hannibal snapped a quick front kick and forced the door open wide enough to allow them to enter.
"I apologize, Clarice if my injuries are distasteful to you."
"Put me down!" Clarice struggled against his strength.
Hannibal's wolfish grin illustrated his amusement with her attempts as he carried her into the bathroom, opened the shower door and dropped her into the large stall fully clothed. He quickly spun the faucets forcing the side jets to spray her body and the large shower head to rain down over her. She turned away from the pressure.
Hannibal stepped into the shower and seeing Clarice's back still to him, leaned into her, forced her into the corner and pressed her against the travertine. Blood swirled into the drain as it washed from their clothing and Hannibal's body. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it out of the shower.
Leaning his hips against Clarice he pinned her to the tile wall with his body weight. She struggled against him, but he was far too powerful. He reached for his pocket and found his Harpy.
Hannibal swung his arm and hooked the laces of both their shoes, ripping them open. He kicked his shoes off, reached down and pulled Clarice's legs back one at a time much the way a harrier would check the shoes of a horse. He slipped her shoes off and tossed them out of the shower on the tile alongside his own.
"Turn around, Clarice." He growled in her ear. "I want you."
"No, leave me alone," she warned. "Don't touch me!"
"Don't touch you, Clarice?"
He raised his Harpy and ripped through the fabric of Clarice's blouse. The light cotton gave way easily and as the pieces fell open, Hannibal placed the blade between his teeth and tore the garment from her body. Breathing heavily, he pulled the blade from his lips and pressed the flat of it against her cheek as he whispered huskily in her ear, his desire for her evident as he leaned against her wet skin.
"Will you not give yourself to me, Clarice?"
"Fuck you, H. I'm not giving you a goddamned thing."
"Fuck me? Yes, Clarice that is the intention."
He removed the blade and slipped it smoothly just under the fabric of her bra. He quickly flipped the edge and sliced cleanly through the strap fluidly pulling the lingerie from her upper body.
Clarice's hands flew up and quickly covered her breasts. She could feel his hot, ragged breath coursing against her skin. She sensed him bending low behind her and panicked, unsure of what he was doing.
"H…no."
Hannibal ignored her faint protestation, concentrating on his own pleasure as he lightly trailed the hooked tip of the Harpy's blade from the small of her back, up her spine. He followed the path created by the knife with his mouth, tracing his tongue slowly, tasting the water mixing with her scent, drinking it from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. When he reached her shoulder he could contain his urge no longer and bit into the deltoid muscle softly. Clarice moaned as he began to suck hard at her skin and muscle drawing it into his mouth and causing a welt to rise.
Upon hearing the sound, Hannibal mouthed the knife and grasped at his shirt violently pulling it open, the buttons popping one by one. As the garment tore open Hannibal shredded it from his injured body.
Quickly he opened his belt, dropped his bloodied trousers to the shower floor and stepped out of them.
Clarice shivered as she cornered herself against the tile of the shower.
Reaching around Clarice's waist Hannibal grasped for the button on her jeans attempting to open them. She put her hand over his and prevented his efforts. She could feel the knife in his mouth as he leaned his cheek on her back to allow him more reach.
"Clarice, remove your jeans."
"No."
"No? Very well."
Hannibal hooked the Harpy on the waistband of her jeans and sliced them apart. The merciless claw of the knife shredded the denim with ease. As the pieces fell open, Hannibal ripped them from her body.
Clarice trembled.
Hannibal, the blade again held safely in his teeth, now clad only in his boxers moved his hands aggressively up and down her body, kneading and grasping her flesh as he groaned deep and low vibrating against her neck.
"Face me, Clarice."
The cool water poured freely over them both but seemed to steam as it hit Hannibal, his body radiating heat. Clarice kept her body turned from him. Angered and confused by this denial, he wrapped his forearm across her collarbone and, grasping the opposite shoulder, began to hiss in her ear.
"What are you turning from? This is what you wanted…this is who I am. This is what I am, Clarice."
Hannibal grabbed Clarice and pushed on her shoulders forcing her head down. He wrapped his arm around her waist, bent her over, took the Harpy and sliced through the last remnants of her modesty.
He stepped out of his boxers and pressed himself against her.
As Hannibal forced her head lower, Clarice's mind reeled. What the hell is he doing?
He leaned into her, pressing himself against her body. "Now, Clarice?"
If he's going to force me…why is he asking?
Clarice looked down, saw Hannibal's blood swirling down the drain and realized the gravity of the situation. Not the gravity of the situation she was in…the gravity of the situation that Hannibal had placed himself in…willingly. She turned to face him and looked at the wounds all over his body, leaking blood still. He was panting from want and the adrenalin still surging through his system. His bloodied body was tense and trembling. …he was electrified.
Clarice turned to him, the fear and the trepidation slowly leaving her body. "You said I could ask you anything at any time? Even now?"
"Yes."
"You didn't know I would follow you? You were expecting?"
"I was expecting privacy."
"You knew there were large cats…other predators?"
"Yes."
"You wanted one to find you?"
"Yes."
She reached up and touched the long streaking wound on the side of his bicep currently seeping blood. "Why?"
"Because Clarice, I wished to hunt."
"Why?"
He leaned in and began to kiss her. Again, the kiss was urgent and aggressive. "It is in my nature to do so."
She held up a hand. "You said you would never hurt me."
"What did you just say?" He was becoming agitated, the edge to his voice expressing his frustration as he continued, "Have I injured you, Clarice?"
"No but…I thought…"
"What? You thought what?"
She could feel the blood flush her cheeks.
"That you were going to… rape me."
Hannibal was horrified by her inference. Angered, he raised his voice uncharacteristically. His stance as he leaned against her became even more aggressive. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered low in her ear again using that dark, hissing dungeon voice that chilled her to her core.
"Why would I take that which you offer to me freely, Clarice? If ever again I was feeling primal you asked that I take you. If this frightens you, I will keep this part of me separate from us but do not ever insinuate that I would either injure you or force myself upon you."
Hannibal pulled away, turned from her and began to scrub the blood from his body, wincing as the soap penetrated the wounds.
Clarice felt the burn of shame on her face. She had asked that of him, long having been intrigued by his raw power. It frightened her as well as excited her and Clarice spent many a night wondering what it would be like to have him in this way. The prospect of being totally overwhelmed, being totally overtaken by him…of his savage intensity in this state was both thrilling and terrifying.
Clarice reached for his shoulder however Hannibal, still enraged at her suggestion, pulled away.
She reached for him again and tugged at his arm insistently. "Please, H…please."
Hesitantly, Hannibal turned to face her.
Clarice touched his face stroking it gently with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry…you're right, H… I did ask…and… I do."
"You do what, Clarice? Let us be certain we understand each other. I don't want to be considered a sex offender in my own home."
"I want you…like this…to experience all of you…the real you."
"Clarice…the adrenalin…the endorphins…I will not restrain myself…it will not be the same."
He placed his hands under her arms and lifted her against the tile, leaning his hips against hers. Hannibal lowered her body slowly, her own weight forcing her downward along his body.
He growled a low deep rumble in the back of his throat.
As he filled her, Clarice gasped.
Hannibal turned and pressed her shoulders against the tile. He reached up and placed her hands around his neck. She laced her fingers and held tightly as Hannibal flattened his palms against the wall of the shower, driving himself forward.
This was not the usual measured passion of their daily coupling. Her own body weight now ballast, Hannibal entered much more deeply than he had ever before, causing Clarice's breath to catch in her throat. Clarice had believed her body had grown accustomed to his, but now realized that Hannibal had considered the petite nature of her body and had not been entering her fully.
The movement of his body took her breath away as he moved, driving them both against the hot tile of the shower wall. Clarice wrapped her legs around his body and lifted herself from his hips to relieve some of the force of his entrance.
Hannibal felt the shift and disallowed it by grabbing her hips and pulling her down as he drove himself deeper within.
"H…Slower."
No answer.
"It's uncomfortable, Hannibal…stop."
Hannibal growled his displeasure conceded. He grabbed Clarice under her bottom for support and pressed a shoulder against the shower door. The door swung open and he lifted her up and pulled himself from her body. He set her down gently just outside the shower.
Sensing his frustration and assuming his withdrawal meant that he was no longer interested in her Clarice turned and reached for her robe from the hook behind the door.
He raised a hand to stop her. "No, Clarice to our bed…for your comfort."
She smiled, grateful for his consideration. "Thanks, H."
She moved quickly to their bed and turned that she might watch him as he came to her.
Hannibal Lecter in his most natural state, naked, fully aroused and unabashed to be so was an impressive sight. Striding confidently toward her, he moved with the strength and elegance of a lion to its mate. Her heart began to race, the heat deep within her burned for want of him.
I see his True Nature and it is…Magnificent.
Until the next chapter, my friends!
LH