THE HONEY IN THE LION

Hannibal put his son in Clarice's arms with the understanding that his wife was about to nurse. Knowing what would follow, he took several steps back, offering a measure of privacy as he drew in a protracted breath through his nose and exhaled very slowly through pursed lips. He stood quietly in the background watching intently as the woman whose intelligence, sheer tenacity and beauty took his breath away slipped her hand beneath her right breast heavy with milk, lifted it gently and offered her body to nourish their son.

Transfixed by the sight, Hannibal spoke with near breathless admiration, "My Love, you are perfection."

Clarice, exhausted from the stresses of motherhood, differed, "I don't feel perfect, H."

The heady scent of her milk filling his nostrils he narrated, "Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur michi."

Hannibal noted her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep and the toll nursing their child was taking. He made a mental note to attend to her more closely over the course of this day.

Clarice looked over her shoulder and smiled. "My aren't we waxing poetic today. Feeling sentimental, H?"

Still standing across the room he watched the tender scene closely. Though he had flashes of memories, tiny fragments of images and sensations of taking his own mother's breast, his wife feeding his child stirred a pride and tenderness for which he had not been prepared. He was moved beyond his near limitless capacity to fully express.

Staring at his wife, truly spellbound by the image he spoke in low tones as if revealing a guarded secret, "Like no other, you have that affect on me, my Love. I am ill-prepared, at your mercy, and fully content to be so."

Hannibal moved quietly around the room, picking up his robe and returning it to the bathroom.

Clarice, understanding the reference to Dante's La Vita Nuova, was obviously overcome by the vulnerability Hannibal was revealing as it was something so seldom allowed. As such, she exposed sensitivity of her own, "I've got a baby hanging from my breast and a house full of strangers with cameras H…I don't rule over one blessed thing."

Standing fully nude in the easement between the master bedroom and bath, he gripped the doorframe and leaned into the space, stretching his shoulders as he dipped his body into the room facing Clarice.

As he pulled himself back and forth flexing and stretching his back and chest he stated proudly, "You rule over me, Clarice, and for that, I am truly blessed."

Pulling the corner of her lower lip into her mouth she bit down and smiled remembering Hannibal's words to her so many years ago.

Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice?

Admiring her husband's musculature as she watched his body moving in and out of the space between the rooms as he so often did, she finished the thought.

…And don't your eyes seek out the things you want?

Clarice's sight shifted to his groin and back to his eyes, still burning into hers as she teased, "Oh, you're blessed alright."

His eyes still locked on hers Hannibal released his hold, took the three commanding steps necessary to reach her side, wrapped an arm around her shoulder pulling her against his body and kissed the top of her head.

"Puerile penis jokes aside, Clarice, I am in awe of the power you have over me. I had resigned myself to a solitary life having never found a woman who held my interest beyond a physical relationship, but you have always held a fascination with me. You are a constant surprise and the stimulation moves me in a way that is extremely humbling. It is a new experience for me, to have such a visceral need of another. It is something I haven't sensed since my childhood and as such, I find the prospect of sharing my life with you to be both extremely exciting and unbelievably daunting."

Clarice began to bump her fingers along the underside of the baby's tiny toes. Emotions were surging through he body, warmth flooding through her even as the milk flowed from her. She felt the heat of his flesh as she leaned against her husband's bare body, emotional as she held their baby in her arms. They had been through so much and were in fact still going through so very, very much, all in an effort to build this unimaginably unlikely life together. The tiny body she held in her arms was an affirmation of all they had been through and would continue to go through in their fight to be accepted as a family. If she were ever placed in a position where her life with this man, this singular, wonderful man beside her, was in jeopardy or heaven forbid, the child in her arms, she would kill any and all without regret or remorse and she understood, more even than she, the man with his arms around her would do the same. There was comfort in that.

"I need you too, H…I can't imagine my life without you…I wouldn't want to."

"Someday, perhaps…but not anytime soon, one hopes."

Kissing his wife once more he left her side and strode across the room to his wardrobe to ready himself for the day. As he stepped into his boxers and slipped them over his hips he watched his wife with their child. She was amazing, his Clarice. Sex aside, a few moments in her embrace with loving words shared and he was renewed.

Hannibal had never allowed a woman to wield so much power over him; neither had any previous lover yielded so much to him as had Clarice. Even when one partner submitted to the other there was equality. Neither spouse consistently controlled, either partner acquiescing willingly with no dominance over the other sought in any particular exchange.

Now dressed in a pair of black trousers and a steel grey shirt he strutted about the bedroom feeling much like a new man. Hannibal Lecter adjusted his trousers and tightened the strap of his belt, tucking the excess leather neatly through the loop and sliding the silver buckle to center. He adjusted the French cuffs of his shirt and as was his daily habit, though now so seldom sought, secured the Harpy within his sleeve. Hannibal then moved to the bedroom door, unlocked and opened the door to circulate the air.

Straightening he stretched his body, patted his flat stomach and happily bellowed, "I'm starved. Shall I bring you a breakfast tray, Clarice?"

Clarice teased, "I've had enough to hold me, H. You go on downstairs and get some food before it's all gone. They're going to want an interview before the end of the day so you'd best fill up before they get you cornered. Mine took forever and I have a feeling you'll interest the viewers a hell of a lot more than I do."

Hannibal straightened his collar and began to close the remaining button but thought better of it leaving the crisp shirt open and relaxed as his bearing. Deciding to return the tie to the rack in his closet he was feeling more casual than most days and thought to reflect it in his wardrobe.

The exceptionally pensive man considered the interview and thought it better to appear approachable. Though his participation in it held no appeal to him, Hannibal determined it an absolute necessity to secure his family's well being. Yes, the interview would prove useful to that end and he would be certain to use it as the tool he intended. Hannibal Lecter would remove the mask for all to see, and show the vulnerable, repentant man the audience hoped for, fabrication though, for the most part, it was.

Vulnerable? With Clarice certainly, though it would be true with no other. Penitent? Am I? Hardly. Though it serves my purpose to be seen as such. Like a lion, I am capable of rolling onto my back to reveal my soft underbelly. Yes, for the cameras and for my family I will retract my proverbial claws.

Considering Clarice's statement he commented as he straightened the bed covers not wanting evidence of their tryst to be any more obvious than it already was.

"I truly do not understand the fascination people have with our situation. We fell in love and as lovers often do, married. We now have a son. There is no more to it. Aside from that, what in the world would I have to offer that could be of any interest at all? Shall I exhibit how efficiently I can carry the baby from his crib to your breast or perhaps demonstrate my diaper changing efficiency?"

Clarice wrapped her arms around the baby and bent her nose to her son's head inhaling the mixture of his scent and the lotion Hannibal ordered from Florence.

Straightening and moving around the bed to be closer to Clarice, Hannibal inhaled deeply as well filling his lungs with the air surrounding his family. He could detect the combination of aromas specific to the child, the scent of mother as well, the milk too, rich in the air. Hannibal watched his wife with rapt attention wondering how keen her senses were in this.

You memorize our son. My lioness, how I love you both...

While continually tracing the tip of her nose through the baby's hair Clarice spoke softly, careful not to startle their son.

"H, think about it. You spent the majority of your adult life chasing around the world tearing the faces off people and boiling their innards. You've now decided to settle down, marry, an ex- FBI agent no less, and you're one of the few men in the world who changes diapers willingly. You don't think that might raise an eyebrow, spawn a question or two and generate more than a little bit of interest?"

"I find it amusing that anyone would be surprised that being capable of one thing might make me incapable of another as if the varied aspects of my personality can be considered mutually exclusive to one another. In point of fact, one makes me more capable of the other as my violent past provides the requisite aggression needed to defend my family. Not to mention, Clarice, innards are more suited to casings than boiling. I have a sausage recipe that was quite exceptional, though I'll have no further use for it."

Clarice covered the baby's ears and mouthed without sound.

"Don't be such a wise ass, H."

"Heaven forbid, Clarice."

Hannibal stood across from his wife, his head tilted slightly as he considered the interest of the general public in his role as husband and father while watching his wife nurse their son.

"I must say I am disturbed at the societal double standard in play here. You have taken as many lives as I, yet not a question has been raised as to your potential fitness as a parent."

Clarice taunted her husband playfully as she reached for and tenderly kissed her baby's tiny star-shaped hand, "That's 'cuz I had a badge, H and I didn't eat the bad guys."

Hannibal flashed a devilish smile, "That you know of, Clarice."

Clarice reached beside her, grabbed a pillow and hurled it playfully at her husband.

"No you didn't just insinuate that you've been feeding me people!"

Hannibal snatched the pillow from the air and tossed it back on the bed. He leaned toward Clarice and hissed with a sparkling glint of playfulness reflecting the pinpoints of red in his eyes, "And you thought it was bacon."

"Don't you go ruining bacon for me, Hannibal."

Hannibal slipped his hands into his front pockets, his contrapposto striking an impressive figure as he questioned with a wry smile, "Hannibal…not H?"

"Screw you, H!"

Hannibal stalked slowly toward his wife and whispered shamelessly, "Yes. Please."

As her husband stepped forward slowly like a cat stalking it's prey, continually closing the distance the sexual energy arced between them causing Clarice to whisper flirtatiously, "In about three and a half weeks I'm gonna wear you out, Hannibal Lecter."

Hannibal, putting on his best West Virginia drawl teased in return, "Hell, Clarice, in about three and a half weeks, I'll be all too happy to oblige. As to wearing me out…please do. If I were to pass from this life in your arms, I'd die a happy man, my Love."

Hannibal bent to his knees in front of his wife, kneeling as if before an altar. He kissed the tops of her thighs, smoothing his hands up and down the length of them. Several minutes passed as Hannibal continued to massage his wife's body seeking to comfort and ease her as she fed their child. Clarice, growing hungry and remembering their earlier conversation, questioned,

"Hey, H?"

While attending to the silky flesh of her inner thigh he responded in kind, "Yes, Clarice?"

"Did you make bacon?"

"For you? Yes…of course."

"Could you run downstairs really quickly and put some aside before the crew tears through it…maybe with a pancake or two?"

Still smoothing his hands beneath her clothing he answered without shifting his gaze, "I prepared crepes this morning. Will that do or shall I make pancakes especially for you?"

Tousling the hair on his head she laughed, "Hell, those are just skinny pancakes they'll be fine." Suddenly her eyes brightened. "Hey, H…what did you wrap inside?"

Circling his palms over each patella Hannibal began to kiss her knees as he spoke, "Fresh berries…and whipped cream…drizzled with… dark chocolate…and…a …fresh…mint…garnish."

"Did you whip it yourself or is there that nozzle-can in the fridge I can play around with later? I like to make my cheeks puff up."

"Fresh cream of course. A can? Really, Clarice."

Clarice nudged Hannibal attempting to rouse him from his knees.

"Sorry Chef, I didn't mean to insult you. Come on, go make me a plate and hide it from the vultures, would you? I don't feel like scraping the bottom of the chafing dish for my meal."

Hannibal reached for their son and smoothed his large hand over the baby's head, distracted for a moment as he tested his son's pulse by settling his thumb gently within the smooth curve of the fontanel.

Strong…you are a healthy boy my Little One…what a fine man you will be.

"Not to worry I put aside your breakfast before I placed the food for the crew. You are my first priority, Clarice. I provided a balanced meal that you remain healthy and our son is nourished."

"You put up some bacon for me, too?"

"Yes, Clarice, I put aside an ample portion."

Clarice lifted her chin, beckoning her husband for a kiss. Hannibal slipped his hands around her body and kissed her tenderly as she nursed their son.

Pausing, he spoke against her lips, "Have I told you what a miracle you are Clarice?"

Before his wife had the opportunity to answer, Hannibal lifted his head and searched the air, nostrils flaring. Upon identifying the target, his eyes narrowed.

"Very soon we will no longer be alone, my Love."

"No way! I told them not to come up here until I let them know."

"The open door could have been perceived as that invitation. There were two individuals in young Hannibal's room retrieving equipment. They moved to the hall and conversed; now the scent is moving toward us. It is the male camera operator and one of the producers…the brunette, I believe."

The aforementioned producer along with the cameraman had indeed spotted the open door, proceeded toward the master suite and entered the room seconds later, with the camera rolling.

Hannibal spoke softly to his wife, "For once, I would have loved to have been wrong."

Knowing his senses were well practiced and so highly tuned they were all but infallible she lovingly brushed a lock of hair from his forehead seeking to comfort him. Agreeing with his sentiment she commiserated, "Yeah, not likely though. Sorry, H."

Lowering his head, he muttered, "No, not likely at all. Still, there is no need for you to apologize, my Love. I would endure any and all to keep you and our son safe."

Clarice understood this process was a struggle for her husband, though he had been nothing but gracious and accommodating.

My poor husband…soon this will be over. After so many years with Chilton breathing down your neck this must be pure torture but you'll never complain to me will you? No, you'll just do what has to be done for your family without regard to the emotional toll it takes on you. You're magnificent, H…

Hannibal, knowing his eyes would reveal his displeasure rested his right cheek on his wife's lap and breathed deeply, hoping the scent of her would calm him. Knowing the light was low in the room and his emotions were in flux, he was careful that his eyes would not meet the lens. The pinpoints of red would reflect the light and the resulting glow might be disconcerting to viewers. He therefore averted his gaze.

Growling his upset he pulled her closely to him, so much so that her arms cradling their nursing son rested just above his head. His grumbling rolling within his ribcage hummed against his wife's hip. Hannibal Lecter contented and relaxed mere moments before struggled to hide his agitation. He coiled his arms around his wife like a snake protecting its eggs.

Hannibal's unique mind began to process not only the situation but his physiological response to the circumstances in which he found himself. He was disturbed, yes, but he was equally curious as to the root cause of the disturbance.

The camera is no more than a device meant to capture a moment, a moment of my own design. This machine…this tool can be used to convey whatever I wish it to convey. Why does its presence disrupt my body so much? The filmmakers will be gone soon enough yet, I want them gone now and that is not logical. I must take advantage of every opportunity to draw them in and show them not merely what they want to see, but what I want them to see. If there is no curiosity there will be no further concern. The loss of privacy is temporary but the benefits will be long reaching if I use this to my family's benefit. I should welcome this yet I feel anger at the intrusion…Curious.

Surprised at the reaction he was having to the interruption Hannibal assessed his emotions. He found much to his bewilderment that he truly mourned the loss of this precious time spent with his wife and child. The forfeiture of this tableau created an emptiness that elicited his upset, but it was more than that. He found that he was continually reaching within his sleeve, instinctively feeling for his Harpy.

Why? What is the provocation that instigates within me this primal need to protect though my senses perceive no danger?

Inhaling his wife's scent attempting to still his mind the answer formed within.

The scent of her milk…She is nursing…she is vulnerable and cannot defend herself in this position. She can protect, but she would not defend. She would absorb any injury to prevent harm from coming to the child, but is not in the position to inflict harm. She is defenseless. I am her armor. I am her weapon. I am their shield.

It was difficult for Hannibal to admit but his perception of his wife was evolving. She was no longer the cub. She was the lioness with a cub of her own. He was now the lion protecting his mate and their young. Though his primal instincts were always well tuned, this intense drive was base and now the center focus of his being. His heart was no longer the epicenter driving his life's force as the beating of their hearts fully supplanted his own.

Clarice sensed his preoccupation and sought to distract, so she shifted the baby to secure her son with one arm in order to gently rub her husband's back. Encouraging him to leave the room she lightly jostled his shoulder, cajoling him to action.

"Come on, H. You killed yourself to cook for everyone. You need to eat something before you waste away. I'll be along in a minute. The baby can't nurse forever."

Hannibal lifted his chin, winked, and flashed a flirtatious smile as he spoke, "He is my son, Clarice. He might be at your breast for quite some time. I know if I were in his position, I would never let go."

Until the next chapter my friends,

LH