The next few days pass with the speed of summer lightning, and Clarice, despite the mountain of paperwork still sitting on her desk, manages to get Friday off of work at the last minute. This sunny Thursday afternoon finds Clarice Starling loading a duffel bag into the trunk of her Mustang, sunglasses over her eyes, a carefree grin on her face, and an added pep to her step.

She is headed to a lush and lovely beach cottage situated on the eastern shore. Hannibal found the rental online and had assured it was perfect for a romantic getaway, adequately meeting his stringent standards. At a thousand dollars a night, Clarice thought it had better suit his needs. It would doubtless meet hers. Hell, she'd stay in a shanty in the middle of the Siberian tundra if it meant she would get to see him.

A few hours later, she turns down a quaintly named street named Sesame Place, driving the few minutes down the road to the cottage. Upon arrival, she sees the trusty, practical pickup Hannibal has been consigned to drive, and pulls up alongside it.

The charming seaside cottage, nestled among the picturesque coastline, exudes a tranquil ambiance. The exterior is adorned with a meticulously maintained lawn and a curving concrete pathway leading up to the front steps. The outside is rustic in design, the wooden shake siding contrasted against black trim, adding a touch of elegance to the facade. Mounted to one side of the house is a stainless steel waterfall-style shower head, which adds a refreshing and modern touch. The breathtaking view of the water and the muted pastel blues and pinks of the sunset sky create a serene backdrop for Hannibal and Clarice's romantic weekend getaway.

Hearing the approaching rumble of the Mustang's engine and crunching of gravel on the drive, Hannibal exits the cottage, waits for Clarice at the bottom of the steps, hands in the pockets of his beige linen trousers.

Starling shifts the car into park and excitedly exits the car, not bothering with her luggage. She runs to Hannibal, jumps into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist, kissing him on the cheek. He laughs as he catches her and wraps her in a tight embrace, nuzzling into her neck.

"I missed you, too, my darling," his voice muffled against her skin as he inhales the sweet medley of her pheromones and perfume.

Clarice kisses him squarely on the lips now, growing more needy by the second, parting his lips with her tongue, seeking entry. He responds in kind, the embrace heating up quickly. Starling pulls back, smiles at him. She drops her feet back to the ground, smoothing the hair back from his forehead and lovingly tousling it. "Hi, H." she sighs contentedly.

"Hi, yourself." Hannibal takes her hand in his, swaying it lightly as he guides her back to the Mustang to retrieve her things. "That was quite the greeting."

"That was nothing." She gives him a cheeky grin.

They step inside the cottage and Clarice takes a moment to absorb the cosy yet elegant interior. The flooring, a beautiful Norwegian ash, lends warmth to the space, while a stone fireplace adds a touch of rustic charm. A plush couch faces the hearth, a welcoming invitation for them to curl up on a cool evening. Overhead, a crystal chandelier casts a soft, ambient glow across the room, highlighting the fully modern kitchen that is part of the open-concept plan. The kitchen gleams with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops, a perfect blend of functionality and style, and so very Hannibal.

"Wow, H, this place is incredible," Clarice remarks, her eyes wide with appreciation as she grabs his hand, holding onto his thumb. "It's even better than the pictures."

Hannibal smiles, clearly warmed by her reaction. "I'm pleased you like it, my dear. I thought it would be perfect for us." He squeezes her hand affectionately.

They continue to the bedroom, where they begin putting her things away. The bedroom is spacious, with an en suite that boasts both a separate shower and a luxurious bathtub. On the bed, a tray with champagne and rose petals awaits, adding a romantic touch.

"Champagne and rose petals?" Clarice laughs softly, turning to Hannibal. "You really know how to make a girl's fur crackle."

"Only the best for you, my love," he replies with a grin, pulling her into a brief but tender kiss.

"Allow me to acquaint you with the rest of the amenities," Hannibal says, opening the sliding door on the far wall of the room, which seamlessly connects the interior and exterior spaces of the home, as Clarice cracks a joke about only wanting to see one specific amenity.

They step out onto a wide wraparound deck that boasts two inviting wicker lounge chairs with soft cushions, as well as a bubbling hot tub. Nearby, a comfortable outdoor seating area awaits, featuring a cushioned sofa, a well-placed coffee table, and a convenient grill for barbecuing. Just off of the deck, a stone fire pit and chaise longue chairs sit in the soft sand, creating an ideal setting for intimate evenings by the crackling fire.

"This is amazing," Clarice says, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes in the serene beauty of the surroundings. "You really know how to pick 'em, H."

Hannibal wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Indeed I do." He says softly into her hairline. "I wanted this weekend to be special for us. I've been too long without you."

Clarice looks up at him, her eyes shining with affection. "It's already perfect, Hannibal. Thank you."

He leans down to kiss her forehead gently. "Anything for you, Clarice. Now, how about we start with a glass of that champagne?"

"Sounds like a plan," she agrees, smiling as they head back inside to begin their romantic weekend together.

Back in the bedroom, Clarice pops the cork of the champagne with a dramatic flair and pours them each a glass, the bubbly liquid fizzing delightfully. They cuddle on the plush bed, the evening's salty sea air gently blowing around them from the still open sliding door to the deck, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant sound of waves creating a serene backdrop. As they sip their champagne, their proximity combined with their prolonged separation ignites a spark between them. Hannibal's hand caresses her back, and Clarice responds by nuzzling closer, her lips brushing his neck.

"Shall we take this to the hot tub?" Hannibal suggests, his voice a low murmur against her ear.

Clarice's eyes shimmer with enthusiasm. "I like the way you think."

Without a second thought, they head back outside, and undress hastily, leaving their clothes in a haphazard pile, the anticipation too strong to bother with any sort of tidiness. The steaming water of the hot tub envelopes them as they sink into it, the bubbles and jets providing a soothing contrast to the cool evening breeze.

Clarice sighs contentedly, leaning back against Hannibal's chest. He wraps his arms around her, his hands resting on her slender waist. He burrows his nose into her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "You look breathtaking tonight, my dear, as always," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Being here with you like this... it is sublime."

She turns her head, her lips brushing his as she speaks. "You're not so bad yourself, H. And I wouldn't trade this moment for the world."

They continue sipping their champagne, Clarice now sitting adjacent Hannibal as he refills her glass, his fingers gently brushing hers in the process. A spark of electricity crackles between them, and they share a flirtatious smile, knowing fully well what is soon to follow. The moon sinks further in the sky, reflects off the water as soft classical music plays in the background, coalescing to create an altogether enchanting atmosphere.

Leaning forward, Hannibal places his hand on her knee, his thumb caressing her skin gently beneath the water. "You've no idea how much I've been anticipating this, my love. It's been far too long since I've had the pleasure of your company uninterrupted." He smirks, recalling Ardelia's unfortunate habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. Angling himself topward her, breath warm on her neck, he whispers, "And I plan to make the most of every moment."

Despite the heat of the jacuzzi, Clarice shivers at his touch, his words, a tingle running down the column of her spine. She turns slightly, closing the distance between them, their legs entwining. "I'd like that," she responds, fixing her eyes on his lips. "Being with you like this, all alone... it's all I've thought about for weeks."

Hannibal's eyes darken with undisguised desire. He raises his glass to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip, eyes never leaving hers. Setting his glass aside, he cups Clarice's face, traces his thumb along her jawline. "Then let us not waste another moment." He draws her closer, meeting her lips in a passionate kiss. She melts into his touch, her hands roaming over the taut muscles of his shoulders, pulling him closer still. The kiss deepens, tongues tangling, tasting the sweetness of the champagne.

Hannibal's hand slides down her back, resting on her lower spine. Clarice moans softly into the kiss as she feels his growing tumescence pressing against her. She rocks gently against him, wanting to feel more of him. The water swirls around them, caressing their bodies and adding to the sensuality of the experience.

Breaking the kiss, Hannibal trails kisses along her jaw and neck, nipping gently at her ear lobe. Clarice arches her neck, granting him more ease of access, hands threading through his thick, black hair. "H...oh, dear god, H," she pants, her breath humid against his skin.

Moving slowly, Hannibal continues to plant a trail of kisses down her neck, nibbling and sucking at her sensitive skin. His hands roam every inch of her body, gliding beneath the water's surface to grasp her hips, aligning their bodies as the heat between them intensifies.

Feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing firmly against her core, Clarice gasps and rocks her hips, seeking more friction, needing to feel him against her. "Please, Hannibal," she whispers, her eyes closed in pleasure. "I need you. Now."

Hannibal responds by grasping her hips firmly and lifting her, positioning her above him. Clarice wraps her legs around his waist, feeling his hardness against her entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he fills her, eliciting from them both a low moan of pleasure.

Clarice's head falls back as she savours the sensation of being stretched and filled by him. Hannibal's hands tightly grip her thighs, guiding her movements as she begins to ride him slowly; moonlight dancing on the water as it splashes around them, reflecting the unbridled passion in their eyes.

Clarice's breasts glisten with water, nipples pebbled in the night air. Hannibal reaches up, rolling her tight buds between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to cry out and grind harder against him. " Clarice ," he draws out the second syllable of her name. "You are absolutely divine," he growls, voice husky and eyes burning with desire. "Ride me, Clarice."

Gripping the edge of the tub, Clarice begins moving with purpose, rising and falling, her eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open as her orgasm builds against the symphony of sloshing water and breathy moans. Hannibal watches her, mesmerised by her exquisite beauty, the tantalising way her body responds to his touch. Reaching between them, he strokes her feverishly, his thumb rubbing circles over her sensitive, swollen bud. She cries out, her body tensing as she climbs higher. "Oh God, Hannibal... I'm so close," she pants, her hips now moving erratically, frantically.

"Let go, my love," Hannibal urges, his voice rough with his own desire. "Come for me." His words push her over the edge, her body shaking as waves of pleasure wash over her. He continues to thrust upwards, meeting her movements, prolonging her orgasm.

As the intensity of the moment subsides, Clarice releases her hold on to the edge of the tub, then finally relaxing back against the side once more, breathless and sated. Hannibal leans in to kiss her, a satisfied smirk on his face, eyes burning with desire. Clarice looks up at him, her body still buzzing with pleasure. "Now," she says cheekily, "it's your turn." Hannibal grins, anticipation alighting in his eyes as Clarice positions herself on her knees on the seat of the tub, upper body draped slightly over the side and casts him a lascivious look over her shoulder.

Hannibal promptly moves to kneel behind her, grabs her thighs. His mouth finds the wet heat of her entrance, skillfully gilding up and down its length, tongue darting in and out with practised rhythm. He sucks gently before rising to a standing position and aligning his arousal with her centre, grabbing her hips and entering her slowly. Clarice's breath hitches and the contact, moaning his name. Hannibal increases his pace, reaching around to rub her clitoris with one hand and running the other lovingly up and down her back, kneading her waist and shoulders as he goes. Before long they are both ascending to their shared apogee. He collapses over her, kissing her shoulder blade while she reaches a hand up around his neck, sighing contentedly.

Together, they sink back into the hot tub, their bodies entwined, basking in the afterglow of their passionate tryst under the stars.

As the cooling air of the twilit and bistered sky brings with it a gust of wind around the hot tub, Hannibal and Clarice grudgingly pull themselves from the steaming water. They exchange a lingering kiss, arms wrapped around each other as if reluctant to let go. Their laughter floats through the stillness of the night, blending with the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. With an air of contentment, they collect their clothes and make their way back inside, steps quickened by the anticipation of continuing their evening together.

In the warm glow of the bathroom, they step into the shower together, the hot water cascading over them, washing away the remnants of their outdoor rendezvous. Hannibal takes his time lathering Clarice's hair with shampoo, his fingers massaging her scalp with gentle, deliberate motions. She leans into his touch with closed eyes and a sigh, a smile playing on her lips. When he finishes rinsing her hair, Clarice returns the favour, her hands moving through his hair, rinsing away the suds with equal care and tenderness. They then take turns soaping each other's bodies, hands lingering on each other's skin, savouring the intimacy of the moment.

After the shower, they wrap themselves in plush, oversized towels. Hannibal kisses Clarice's temple before they return to the bedroom to don their comfortable attire for the evening: Hannibal in soft, well-appreciated lounge pants paired with a dark cashmere sweater, and Clarice in a snug pair of leggings and one of Hannibal's beloved fair isle cable knit sweaters, a gesture that fills his heart with warmth and perhaps a tinge of arousal. He knows he will refrain from laundering it until her scent fades from the fabric.They step out of the bedroom, exuding an air of effortless relaxation, though the magnetic pull between them remains stronger than ever.

In the softly-lit kitchen, Hannibal retrieves a bottle of vintage champagne and expertly mixes a pair of French 75s, the effervescent liquid bubbles in their crystal glasses as they toast to their evening. Against the backdrop of an immortal yet dying evening, they raise their glasses in a silent toast, sipping the tartness of the lemon and the crisp bite of the gin.

"I was thinking we could make Coq au Vin," Hannibal suggests.

"Perfect," Clarice agrees, her enthusiasm mirroring his own. They move around the kitchen in a graceful dance, gathering ingredients and setting up their respective cooking stations. Hannibal preps the chicken with precision, the glint of his knife catching the light as he slices through the meat effortlessly. Clarice chops vegetables with practised rhythm, her movements fluid and confident.

As they cook, they find any and every excuse to touch each other, behaving like thoroughly besotted teenagers. Their hands brush as they reach for the same utensil, bodies pressing together as they manoeuvre around the kitchen. Hannibal offers Clarice a taste of the sauce, holding a spoonful to her lips. She closes her eyes as she tastes it, savouring the rich, complex flavours. "Delicious," she murmurs, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Clarice spears a piece of carrot with a fork and presents it to Hannibal. He takes it into his mouth, his eyes locked onto hers. "Mmm, exquisite, just like you," he whispers, making her blush. She swats his arm playfully, laughing as she leans in for another kiss, their lips lingering a little longer this time.

Their laughter fills the kitchen, the aromas of the Coq au Vin mingling with the scent of fresh herbs and simmering wine. They sip their French 75s, the drinks adding a festive note to their culinary adventure. Hannibal brushes a lock of hair behind Clarice's ear, his fingers grazing her cheek in a tender caress. She responds by trailing her fingers down his arm, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her touch.

"Remember the last time we cooked together?" Clarice asks, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

"How could I forget?" Hannibal replies, a smile tugging at his lips. "It was a simple yet elegant lunch of smoked salmon and vodka sandwiches; your Appalachian specialty," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Clarice laughs, her smile softening into a thoughtful expression, "It was lovely, peaceful. But after I ran into Noble, I thought..." she trails off, pondering the memory, "Well, I'm not exactly sure what I thought, but your response made it all worthwhile." She laughs again, remembering the passionate tryst that followed. "Maybe I should send him a thank you card."

Hannibal's eyes scintillate with amusement and intensity. "Jealousy and desire, Clarice. A lethal combination. I did my utmost to reign it in, but you have a way of utterly unravelling me."

Her heart quickens at the earnesty of his words, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "And you, Hannibal Lecter, have a way of showing me just how deep your affections run."

He leans in closer, his voice a seductive murmur. "Need I remind you, Clarice, that you are mine?"

She moans softly, her arms winding around his neck. "I haven't forgotten," she breathes, her lips brushing his. "But remind me anyway."

With a gentle, yet possessive touch, he captures her lips in a kiss that speaks of both his dominance and devotion, the room quickly filling with the heady blend of simmering desire and culinary delights.

Once the meal is ready, they carry their plates to the kitchen island, where they sit side by side, their knees touching. They share bites of the tender chicken and flavorful vegetables, their conversation flowing easily as they talk about everything and nothing, enjoying each moment together. Hannibal feeds Clarice a piece of chicken, his eyes warm and affectionate as she takes it from his fork. A trace of the wine sauce tantalisingly glistens on her munificent lips, which he promptly kisses away. She returns the gesture, holding a forkful of sauteed mushrooms to his lips, her fingers delicately brushing his cheek in the process.

After dinner, they move to the lush, welcoming sofa in front of the hearth, the fire crackling softly as it casts a warm, flickering light upon the room. They snuggle up under a soft blanket, their bodies entwined as they sip the last of their cocktails. Hannibal strokes Clarice's hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. Their kisses are languid, lingering; lips meeting in a meandering, unhurried dance.

"I wish we could do this more often," Clarice says softly, her head resting on Hannibal's chest.

"As do I," Hannibal agrees, his voice a low rumble. "You and I, simply existing in the amber of the moment, outside of time."

They lie there for a while, carefully skirting the topic of their future plans, both acutely aware that this arrangement cannot persist indefinitely. Instead, their hands explore each other's bodies with a comfortable, familiar intimacy. Hannibal's fingers trace lazy patterns on Clarice's back, while her hand rests over his heart, feeling its steady beat, a reminder that he isn't a mere figment of an overactive imagination. As the fire dies down and the room begins to cool, they rise and make their way to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

"As fetching as you are in my sweater, darling, I much prefer you with it off."

In the soft glow of the bedroom, they undress each other slowly, delighting in the sensation of skin against skin. Hannibal's hands are gentle yet firm as he guides Clarice to the bed, their bodies coming together in a passionate embrace. They make love with a renewed intensity, their movements synchronised and their breaths mingling in the quiet night. Afterward, they lie wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies warm and content. Clarice rests her head on Hannibal's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He kisses the top of her head, all six fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness.

"Goodnight, H," she replies, her eyes drifting closed as she snuggles closer.

They eventually succumb to the grasp of somnolence, wrapped in each other's arms, their love a comforting presence as they drift into a dreamland only half as sweet as this shared moment.