Stages of Love
folder
S through Z › Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal/Red Dragon › Hannibal/Clarice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,325
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal/Red Dragon › Hannibal/Clarice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,325
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, and/or Red Dragon, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Entrapment
Chapter Four: Entrapment
That night Clarice dreamed...
She was in the kitchen, trapped by her hair and Lecter was asking her the question,
"Would you ever say to me, stop, if you loved me you’d stop?”
Her voice answered back, full of pride. And then his mouth descended on hers and he was kissing her, all softness and hunger. She longed to surrender to his voice, his lips, but the voice of duty was stronger and she reached behind her and closed the cuffs on him with a snick as final as doom.
He opened twilight eyes, stepping back slowly, holding up their joined wrists.
"Now this is really interesting,” he admitted. "But I'm really pressed for time, so where's the key?"
She raised her chin defiantly.
"Where's the key?" he asked again, his voice losing it's playful edge. She stood stubbornly silent. She could hear the sounds of far police sirens.
"Okay," Lecter said. In one smooth motion he had reached behind him with his right hand for a meat cleaver, pinning her hand with his left.
"What do you think Clarice, above or below the wrist?" He gestured with the knife. She looked up into his eyes and knew he wasn't joking. He was fully capable, willing even. She stared at him, afraid but knowing she couldn't give in. She would rather lose a hand than lose his respect.
Lecter shrugged and raise the cleaver.
"You know, this is really going to hurt."
She saw, the split second before he brought the knife down, what he intended to do and she reacted on instinct, pulling their joined hands towards her, overbalancing him even as she screamed in terror.
The cleaver met the counter and she looked down quickly at their hands. He was bleeding; the knife had not completely missed him. She took his hand in hers; assuring herself that it was a flesh wound before turning on him.
"Are you crazy?" she demanded, scared and strangely moved.
"Some would say that it's a matter open to debate," he answered mildly.
She sighed, wondering how he could come up with strange quips like that even in the most stressful moments. She reached up into her hair where, Emelda Drumgo style, she had hidden the key. She unlocked the cuffs with the ease of long practice.
She could see him watching the movement of her hands intently as she freed him. His gaze traveled slowly up to her face, his expression inscrutable. The sirens were closer now.
"My Clarice," he crooned, cupping her cheek with his uninjured hand. His eyes devoured her face, as though seeing her for the last time. He smiled, the expression lightening his eyes.
"Bye,” he said, voice full of helloes.
And then he was gone.
Something awoke inside her and she dropped the key, moving around the kitchen quickly, tidying up, getting rid of some things, fixing some others. When sufficient time had passed she went outside, spotting the little boat bobbing along the coastline, letting her attention focus on that and not all the other ways he could have escaped.
"Police, show us your hands!"
She held her hands up, a small smile at the corners of her mouth. He was gone.
That night Clarice dreamed...
She was in the kitchen, trapped by her hair and Lecter was asking her the question,
"Would you ever say to me, stop, if you loved me you’d stop?”
Her voice answered back, full of pride. And then his mouth descended on hers and he was kissing her, all softness and hunger. She longed to surrender to his voice, his lips, but the voice of duty was stronger and she reached behind her and closed the cuffs on him with a snick as final as doom.
He opened twilight eyes, stepping back slowly, holding up their joined wrists.
"Now this is really interesting,” he admitted. "But I'm really pressed for time, so where's the key?"
She raised her chin defiantly.
"Where's the key?" he asked again, his voice losing it's playful edge. She stood stubbornly silent. She could hear the sounds of far police sirens.
"Okay," Lecter said. In one smooth motion he had reached behind him with his right hand for a meat cleaver, pinning her hand with his left.
"What do you think Clarice, above or below the wrist?" He gestured with the knife. She looked up into his eyes and knew he wasn't joking. He was fully capable, willing even. She stared at him, afraid but knowing she couldn't give in. She would rather lose a hand than lose his respect.
Lecter shrugged and raise the cleaver.
"You know, this is really going to hurt."
She saw, the split second before he brought the knife down, what he intended to do and she reacted on instinct, pulling their joined hands towards her, overbalancing him even as she screamed in terror.
The cleaver met the counter and she looked down quickly at their hands. He was bleeding; the knife had not completely missed him. She took his hand in hers; assuring herself that it was a flesh wound before turning on him.
"Are you crazy?" she demanded, scared and strangely moved.
"Some would say that it's a matter open to debate," he answered mildly.
She sighed, wondering how he could come up with strange quips like that even in the most stressful moments. She reached up into her hair where, Emelda Drumgo style, she had hidden the key. She unlocked the cuffs with the ease of long practice.
She could see him watching the movement of her hands intently as she freed him. His gaze traveled slowly up to her face, his expression inscrutable. The sirens were closer now.
"My Clarice," he crooned, cupping her cheek with his uninjured hand. His eyes devoured her face, as though seeing her for the last time. He smiled, the expression lightening his eyes.
"Bye,” he said, voice full of helloes.
And then he was gone.
Something awoke inside her and she dropped the key, moving around the kitchen quickly, tidying up, getting rid of some things, fixing some others. When sufficient time had passed she went outside, spotting the little boat bobbing along the coastline, letting her attention focus on that and not all the other ways he could have escaped.
"Police, show us your hands!"
She held her hands up, a small smile at the corners of her mouth. He was gone.