Clarice returned to her hotel room more than a little tipsy. It was good to get a little drunk. With Phillips hitting on her all night, she needed more than one or two glasses of wine to remove the feel of slime from her mind.

She slid the code card into the slot in her door allowing her entry into her room. Closing the door in an exaggerated way that ended up not being all that quiet, she leaned her back against it and exhaled sharply. All was quiet here in the room, except for her breathing and her soft groans of protest with regard to her shoes.

She kicked off her black fuck-me shoes and bent forward to roll the black stockings from her legs. She had no idea what had come over to buy the outfit she had bought. She, two other female agents, two male agents, and Phillips were in Minneapolis investigating a prostitution ring. Why she had been chosen, she didn't know. Well, she suspected Phillips was hoping that away from D.C. she'd succumb to his sexual overtures. She had to admit, though, that Phillips made a good working girl's sugar daddy. He had slime ball written all over him and dressed like one too. He was even worse than Paul Krendler had been. Justice sure knew how to pick them!

She had made sure the front desk knew no one but herself was to have a code card to get into her room. The last thing she needed was for Phillips to let himself into her room. The hotel was nice. She had demanded a more upscale hotel for this assignment. If she was going to be walking around in stiletto heels and fishnet stockings with her haired teased up sky high all day, she was going to live it up when she could be in her room, sleep on a comfortable bed with a mint waiting for her on her pillow every day.

The message light on her phone was blinking, so she called down to the front desk. They had no name, only that Clarice was to call room 1011 as soon as she got in. Maybe Jack had come into town last minute to make sure the assignment went off without incident. He knew damned well how well Clarice and Scott Phillips got along. She dialed the room number and sat on the edge of her king sized bed. Her feet were killing her and she let out a soft groan in protest of the torture chambers she had to wear for hours at a time.

Clarice didn't notice the silence on the phone at first. She was too busy rubbing her foot. The other person had picked up the phone, but said nothing. She heard the breathing and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Mr. Crawford," she asked after a moment's hesitation knowing already it wasn't Jack Crawford.

"I'm afraid Jack won't be joining you tonight, Clarice. What hurts?"

"My feet," she said and then added, "how did you know?"

"I know you well enough to know that the sound you made as I picked up the receiver was one of pain or discomfort. It wasn't a pleasurable sound."

"They'll be fine in the morning. Staying out after my shift was done probably wasn't the best idea, but I needed the drinks."

"Long day, Clarice?"

"One of the longest, Doctor."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Though I have to admit if I were the type to pay for services, I'd pay top dollar for you. You might want to rethink the makeup though."

"Not enough," she asked curiously, wondering why it was she found the idea of his giving her advice on how to catch a man or men who preyed on prostitutes exhilarating. And a little ironic. The fact he had obviously seen her wasn't at all discomforting.

"The shade's wrong, Clarice. You're making yourself up as if you're going to work at the Bureau building. This is the street, Clarice. No one wants to pay to have sex with their wife."

"I'll bear that in mind, Doctor." Though when she stood, taking a look at herself in the mirror above the dresser she had to admit she did look like a woman going to the store not a hooker. She grumbled to herself, a few select swear words being said aloud.

"Very classy, Clarice. Keep talking like that and I might just believe your cover."

"You're here in Minneapolis."

"Obviously. I'd like to see you, but I'm afraid the Mr. Phillips you are so fond of might have an eye on your room."

Clarice chewed on her lower lip. She wanted to see him, she knew how wrong it was to want to see him. But seeing Doctor Lecter, the very man Phillips sought most right under Phillips's nose was exciting in a perverse sort of way. "I could come to your room."

"You could. You have my room number, obviously. I'm entrusting that you're not going to call Scott as soon as we hang up and tell him I'm here waiting for a prostitute to call on me."

She laughed lightly. "He'd think I was lying, unless I said it was a male prostitute."

"Well, you're definitely not male. I liked the stockings. Do you think you could keep those on for me? I grant you permission to forego the shoes if they're bothering you that much."

"Permission, huh," she said with what she hoped was a haughty laugh. It was sort of arousing to hear that Doctor Lecter was granting her permission to do anything. She was always in control in her life, she prided herself on it. Well, all aspects except for when it came to the man on the other end of the telephone, he controlled her even when he wasn't trying.

"Yes, you don't need me to give you the definition of the word, Clarice. You're a smart woman. I'm going to hang up now. Take the stairs rather than the elevator. And bring the shoes but I assure you wearing them will not be a requirement."

"And what if I've already changed into street clothes?"

"You haven't."

"How do you know, Doctor?"

"I saw you come in, Clarice. You haven't been in your room long enough to shower and change."

He was right of course. It didn't surprise or startle her that he had been watching her. She wondered if he saw, too, Phillips's attention to her. He was far more attentive to Clarice than he was the other two female agents. Though that might have changed once Clarice had left the bar. "Can I shower first?"

"No. You can shower here if you need to."

"I have no clothes there, Doctor."

"Maybe I have some here for you to wear."

She smiled at that, a picture in her mind forming of just what he might have for her to wear. "I hope it's a warm and fuzzy oversized bathrobe that I can crawl into."

"I can provide you something warm and oversized to crawl into, Clarice. Fuzzy," he laughed heartily. "Well, we'll have to see about attaining something fuzzy for you."

She smiled, feeling her cheeks grow warm because she gathered that he was referring to his bed and not an article of clothing. "There's got to be a blanket on your bed. There's one on mine. That might count."

He groaned softly. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Clarice. Don't take too long."

"I won't, Doctor," she said into the phone. It was fruitless to say the words, however, for he had already hung up. Her hand still resting on the now hung up receiver. There was no question in Clarice's mind what she should do. Clarice needed to live her life and forget even if it was just once about the Bureau and following the rules. There would be no calling Phillips tonight. In fact, she thought as she rolled the stockings she had just taken off back on, over her calves and onto her thighs attaching them to the garter belt she wore, she might not come back to this room tonight if all went well. Too many nights alone made her look forward to the possibility of one or two not so alone.

Clarice picked up the heels she had just stepped out of and after grabbing her code card, left the room. She went up the three flights of stairs to get from her seventh floor room to his tenth floor room. She wasn't exhausted from the short jaunt up the stairs, but an entire day spent on her feet made her more than a little fatigued. She looked up and down the hallway to make sure she was alone, or at least not being watched too closely, before rapping lightly on the door.

***

Lecter waited for a moment before opening the door. His eyes slowly took in her appearance from head to toe. He could do without her hair in its present style, but he understood it was part of her job. The dress certainly wasn't as nice as the one he'd dressed her in at Paul Krendler's summer house, but it revealed a hell of a lot more than that black dress had. And here he thought that dress had bordered on inappropriate with the generous amount of cleavage revealed.

"Come in," he said, standing aside so she could walk past him. As she did, he took in the view of her legs offered him by the short length of her skirt. He groaned softly when he saw that the stockings she wore had a seam down the back of her legs. "Naughty," he said his voice barely a whisper. He hadn't noticed that little accessory when he had driven past her earlier that day. Stockings with the seams were a weakness of his, he wondered if she knew that. Doubtful since she obviously wasn't planning on his joining her in Minneapolis.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

She turned to face him as he shut the door. "I don't believe you."

"Now, Clarice. Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know, Doctor. Why would you?"

His eyes traveled along the length of her body once more, this time taking the time to look at all of her. "I said your stockings were naughty."

An eyebrow arched slightly. "Naughty, Doctor?"

"Yes, I have a thing for seamed stockings."

She smiled, obviously both pleased and amused by this admission. "Really, Doctor? Maybe it's you that's naughty."

"Would that bother you, Clarice?"

"Not tonight, Doctor. I don't think anything would bother me tonight."

"Is it the wine, Clarice?"

"It might be, Doctor Lecter, but I don't think that's entirely the reason."

"No," he said, taking a somewhat cautious step towards her. He was afraid that she would change her mind and flee from him when realization set in. He knew that without the wine she'd drunk she very likely wouldn't be standing before him in the clothes she wore as part of her current work. Was he taking advantage of her? Perhaps he was. Was it in her best interest that he proceed? He believed it was. She needed to break down some walls. Whether or not a wall that should be broken was sharing a bed with a federal fugitive he wasn't going to dwell on.

"I was hoping you'd come back for me at some point, Doctor."

"You sound disappointed and surprised I did not, Clarice. I can understand the disappointment," he smiled cockily though he was jesting somewhat. "The surprise though surprises me. You made it quite clear you did not want to come with me."

"I was drugged, Doctor."

"And you're using the fact you were drugged as the reason you turned me down? Here I thought you'd have used it as your reason for accepting."

"You don't know me as well as you think you might, Doctor," she swallowed hard, her hand moving to her throat.

"Perhaps I don't, Clarice. I think I've done a pretty good job up until now, though. There are aspects of you I'd like to have a first hand, more carnal knowledge of though."

"Isn't that why you called me down here, Doctor? I highly doubt it was to talk about my day."

He glanced from her to the bed and back to her. "You get right to the point, Clarice, don't you? You haven't even been here but a few minutes. Are you always this eager? Or is it just me that brings it out in you? Afraid I might get arrested before we can finish?"

She smiled with a light laugh. "No, I'm not afraid of that. Not unless you leave messages for other agents and include your room number."

He stepped to the table where there was an ice bucket with a bottle of wine and two crystal wineglasses. "More wine? It's better than what you had earlier, I assure you."

"That's not hotel stock, Doctor," she said softly, observing the wineglasses and the label. "And yes, I'll have a glass if you are."

He poured them both a glass and walked to her to give her one of the glasses. He brought his glass to hers, a high pitched clinking sound emitted as the crystal touched before he drew his glass away. "I've waited years to share a glass of wine with you, Clarice. Though this wasn't quite how I'd pictured it."

Clarice sat on the edge of the bed as she sipped the wine. Her eyes met his briefly before they traveled lower. Lecter felt her eyes on him and while he was accustomed to scrutiny and appreciation by women for the most part, it was a little disconcerting to have Clarice as the woman scrutinizing him. He wasn't dressed formally. It was late in the evening after all, and he was actually trying to prevent himself from standing out. The tie he had worn earlier was hanging up, but he still wore his tan trousers and his blue Oxford shirt. His shoes were in the closet area the hotel room offered, so Clarice was seeing him in his stocking feet. He preferred her version of stockings to his, but then again he didn't much care what his legs looked like.

It was rather strange. She'd either seen him in his asylum garb or at Paul Krendler's summer home dressed formally for dinner. Then again, he had never seen her dressed like this either, not that he'd have an occasion to without her being on such an assignment.

He pulled the room's chair near the bed, sitting just opposite her. He took one of her feet in his hands and began rubbing. He was attempting to soothe her sore and aching muscles, but his touch had a caressing undertone to it as well. His thumb would graze the top of her foot or her ankle intimately. When his hand got to her calf above her ankle, he wasn't so concerned with soothing her anymore. "Were the shoes I gave you this uncomfortable, Clarice? Or are you just unused to wearing heels?"

"No, Doctor, the shoes you gave me were fine. But then again, those were more along the line of pumps." She downed the rest of her glass of wine, gesturing for him to refill her glass.

Lecter reached to the table in back of him for the bottle and refilled her glass, setting the bottle on the bedside stand so she could help herself. Or he could pour her additional glasses without having to discontinue touching her leg as he just had to do.

"That feels wonderful," she murmured, taking a sip of the refilled glass of wine.

"I'm glad you approve. Is it just your feet?"

She arched her foot in part as a reflex to his touch. Her toes touched the crotch of his pants suggestively for a moment. Her eyes met his and held them without pause. There was no hint of embarrassment or doubt of any kind in them.

"I'll take that as a no," he said, skimming the length of her leg with his hand. His fingertips met with the top of her stocking, the straps from her garter belt holding her stocking in place and then the bare flesh of her thigh causing him to groan softly. Perhaps it went with some of his old-fashioned beliefs, but the idea of stockings instead of pantyhose especially on Clarice was an arousing thought.

Clarice smiled, her eyes alternating glances between his hand on her leg and his face. "I think anything you touch will feel wonderful, Doctor."

One side of his mouth lifted into a smirk. "I think you can count on that, Clarice. Tonight is all about both of us feeling wonderful. I hope that's acceptable to you. Feeling wonderful, I mean."

Her eyes were closed now as she moved her arm to set the wineglass on the bedside table. "More than acceptable."

He smiled slightly, sitting back for a moment. He really didn't believe she had any idea how graceful she could be at times. "Feeling relaxed," he asked, taking a sip of his glass of wine. He hadn't yet emptied his first glass and Clarice was on her second.

"Very," she said, opening her eyes. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Doctor?"

"I wouldn't say drunk, Clarice, no," he said the wineglass now resting on his thigh as he sat back slightly in the chair regarding her. "I just want you relaxed, to let your hair down so to speak. Is that wrong?"

"No, not at all and it's worked. If it's not obvious enough without my saying so."

"I'm not quite done yet."

An arched brow was her only physical reaction to this statement. "Really, Doctor?"

"Really, Clarice. I haven't even begun to fill the specified prescription yet."

"I can't wait for the rest. Though, the foot rub was superb enough to do the trick."

There was a knock at the door and Lecter laughed when Clarice's eyes grew wide with both apprehension and curiosity. "Relax. It's just some warm towels I asked the front desk to send up."

"Warm towels?"

"Yes, you do understand what those might be I presume."

"Yes, but I'm not sure what the implications behind them are."

He answered the door, took the towels, tipped the bellhop who had brought them, placing the towels on the marble counter in the bathroom. "It's really quite simple, Clarice. I'm going to bathe you."

"Bathe me, Doctor? I'm not a little girl."

"If I wasn't aware of that before seeing you dressed as you currently are, Clarice, I'm well aware of that fact now. You've led a sheltered life if the only baths you've received were from your Mama."

She blushed deeply at his words. "Well, I don't know that giving baths was on the minds of anyone but my Mama."

"Well, let me introduce you to the world of bathing, Clarice." He offered her his hand, which she hesitated in taking. "If you're worried about my seeing you without your clothes on, I've already seen it, Clarice."

"Yes, but I was unconscious and unaware of your looking at me, Doctor."

"And that makes it all right? Had I but known I might have done more than simply dress you."

"You wouldn't have done that, Doctor."

"No? Why not? I've committed some horrible acts in my time."

"Yes, but I don't know that raping women or taking them unaware can be included in those acts."

"I'm above that? Is that what you think?"

"Yes, Doctor. In all the interviews I conducted, not one woman complained about your behavior."

"They spoke of my bedside manner?"

"No," she flushed again. "I never asked such questions. They weren't important."

"You might have asked out of curiosity. Or maybe you knew you'd have the opportunity one day to find out first hand."

"Maybe," she said finally, taking his hand and standing. "Do I undress myself here?"

"No. I'll do it in the bathroom," he said leading her there.

"Do I get to do anything?"

"You get to sit in the bathtub and enjoy what I do to you."

"And here I thought you just wanted to have sex with me."

"Oh, Clarice, there's so much more to sex then simply the act. From the moment I touched your foot we began our lovemaking."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh," he said before kissing her. He broke away to begin filling the tub. It was clear from the accessories in the bathroom that his plan had indeed included giving her a bath.

"Do you think I'm not clean, Doctor? This sort of reminds me of some serial killers I've helped capture, needing to clean their victims beforehand."

"Is that what you think, Clarice? That I'm here to kill you?" He placed the lid down on the toilet and sat. His hands encircled one of her thighs and he felt her muscles there tense and then relax. He unhooked the stockings, it had been some time since he'd encountered a woman with legitimate stockings and the garter that went with them, but he hadn't lost his touch at capably undoing the strap.

"No," she whispered her eyes focused now on his hands.

"Good, because I have no intentions on killing you, Clarice, other than perhaps with the kindness and adoration you deserve."

His hands were at her ankle now. He carefully, yet delicately and flawlessly took her foot from the tile floor and removed the stocking slowly before moving to the other leg, beginning the process all over again. The rest of her clothes came off without as much ado as the stockings had. Of course there wasn't much else to remove, her short skirt and a halter top that covered about as much as a bra might - maybe even less. He touched no more than was necessary, even in removing her top, though his touch never wavered from the sensuality it packed.

He allowed her to get into the tub without his assistance, he somehow sensed he might get an argument out of her on that point and acquiesced without even broaching the subject. He noticed her glance at the things he had near the tub and smiled slightly. "Call it an attempt to woo you into leaving Minneapolis and your job behind, Clarice, I plan on making it difficult for you to choose after I've finished with you."

He allowed her to soak some in the mildly scented water. There were no bubbles, the scent was in oil form and therefore left her clearly exposed to him. As shy as he realized she might be about being laid out before him, naked in a tub full of water, he noticed her nipples standing at attention as well as her accelerated breathing and knew that she wasn't totally minding his scrutiny.

More than an hour passed as Lecter bathed her, washed her hair with both shampoo and conditioner, washed her body, and applied a facial mask. He had a woman friend a while back who swore by them, that they made her feel like an entirely new person afterward and he thought perhaps it was something to try. If she hated it, he'd know for future reference. He then proceeded to give her a manicure and pedicure, leaving her nails unpolished. They both had more wine to drink, but he knew that neither of them was even close to being drunk.

The only way he knew she was awake and hadn't drifted off to sleep was by the soft sounds of appreciation and comfort she made. Her eyes remained closed throughout the entire process. It seemed her apprehension about his seeing her naked when he was as of this moment still fully clothed seemed to have gone by the wayside when he started on his project.

Finally, he was finished. He had washed and massaged every part of her that a gentleman could massage and remain a gentleman. There was a time or two by her physical reaction that he knew she would not have objected if his hands moved an inch up or down or from this side to that side and grazed one of her intimate parts. But he never did. This particular moment wasn't about groping her, it was about pleasing her in a way no man ever had before now.

***

Clarice felt he had stepped away from the tub before he actually said anything to her indicating the bath was finished. The protective warmth his physical presence offered was gone and she felt a chill that until that moment hadn't been there. She stood slowly, not sure she could move any faster than slow motion with how relaxed she felt. Was there no limit to what this man could make her feel? She had thought she was submitting to a horribly degrading, childish experience but instead found that she enjoyed it. If this was his idea of foreplay, she could certainly get used to it.

She stepped into the towel he offered her, noticing he had taken one from the middle of the stack rather than the top one. It was still warm, not hot but it was certainly more comfortable to have enveloping her than the cold, dry, rough bath towels she was accustomed to.

She let him brush out her hair, smiling slightly at his attentiveness. He was careful not to pull too roughly, though with all the hair spray and stuff she had in her hair from this operation there were some knots she knew he had to work out with some brute force.

"I think I might fall asleep, Doctor. Perhaps you relaxed me too much."

"If that's what you need, Clarice, then so be it."

"No, I need you. I can't even begin to tell you what you just did for me. I've never felt so womanly, so cared for."

"You are very much a woman, Clarice and very cared for."

She turned to face him in between brush strokes and her arms went around his neck. "Thank you," she said before kissing him. She was mindful of the fact that all that stood between her being against him naked was the bath towel she wore around her torso. She deepened her kiss, parting her lips to allow his tongue to meet with hers. A soft groan escaped her lips as she reached with one hand to remove the tucked in part of the bath towel that kept the towel in place. She felt its warmth slide down over her bottom and the backs of her legs and then she felt the chill of the room's air on the back of her naked body.

She wanted him to catch up to her state of undress, but he seemed almost content with standing in the bathroom kissing her. She didn't just want him to catch up to her, she wanted him period. Her hands moved to unbutton his shirt and she groaned in frustration when she encountered an undershirt. Of course Hannibal Lecter would wear an undershirt. "Help me, Doctor."

She stepped away from him, barely though, giving him only enough room to remove his shirt and undershirt while her hands reached for the waist of his pants. She undid his belt and slid it out of the belt loops of his trousers, letting it drop to the floor with a clink as the metal buckle struck the tile floor at their feet. His shirt and undershirt quickly joined his belt and her bath towel on the floor.

He still hadn't touched her, though, not intimately like a lover would. She felt a deep pulling between her legs and at her breasts and knew she craved his touch. She had never craved anything from a man before now, but she knew that the feelings going through her body were just that, craving. Craving mixed in with desire.

Still in the bathroom, Clarice kissed a path from his mouth along his chest and down to his abdomen. She knelt before him, her eyes meeting his. She offered him a somewhat nervous smile as she worked the button and zipper on his trousers.

"Clarice," Lecter said softly as his hands moved to her hair.

Clarice knew he was going to make some sort of verbal protest, tell her she didn't need to or that the bed would be more comfortable or whatever he was going to say. She had waited years for this and she didn't really care as she lowered his trousers from around his waist until they fell to his ankles if she was acting like the prostitute she was dressed as only an hour ago.

She helped him step out of the trousers, not bothering to remove his socks for the time being before taking him into her mouth. His reaction, both verbal and physical inspired her to continue more aggressively. She knew he hadn't been expecting her to do this, that for once she had taken control of the situation when it came to the two of them and perhaps he found it a little arousing. Well, more than a little as evidenced by the size of him in her mouth.

His hands at her head, in her hair were reluctant at first. She could tell he was erring on the side of caution that he knew she wanted the control for the moment, and he was right. Slowly, though, as she became more confident in her abilities and was able to gauge how much of him she could take his hands encouraged her movements. She liked the feeling of his hands in her hair. His fingers, capable of so much from playing the piano to performing surgical procedures with accuracy, were firm in their hold on her yet she knew he'd never force her to do more than she was willing to do.

Her knees by now were less than comfortable, but she refused to stop or give any indication that she was uncomfortable. She stopped only because he placed his hands on her cheeks and stopped her ministrations that way. "Clarice," he whispered huskily. "Unless you want to play the role of prostitute, let's venture to the bed about now, shall we?"

She slowly and purposely with every intention of being seductive licked her lips. She could taste him on her lips, in her mouth, and on her tongue and didn't mind at all. "What if I want to play the role? Do I still have to kneel before you on the bathroom floor?"

He lifted her so she stood in front of him. "No, no more kneeling on the floor for you. The bed is a much better place to do these things I think."

Clarice let him lead her from the bathroom to the bed. She used what influence over him she had at the moment and encouraged him to lie down so she could kneel on top of him.

"Now what are you doing," he asked a little curiously.

"Isn't this what customers usually want? The girl on top?"

His hands caressed her back as he looked her over. "I wouldn't know. I'm afraid I've never been a customer of a working girl before."

"Before now," she purred before taking one of his nipples in her mouth.

"Christ Clarice," he swore under his breath.

"What's the matter, Doctor?"

"Nothing," he murmured. "Nothing at all, my dear. Please don't stop."

"Ah, a man who wants every penny's worth I see," she teased before she toyed with his nipple between her teeth.

He laughed lightly. "Something like that. Has any one ever told you before, Clarice that you talk entirely too much?"

She laughed as she straddled him. "No, never, Doctor. Seems once upon a time I didn't talk enough for your liking." She bit her lower lip as she lowered herself onto him.

"Do I get to touch you now?"

She laughed again, her head falling back as she did. She reached behind her with her hands, placing them against his upper thighs as she rose and lowered herself along his length once more before she even thought of replying to his question. She knew he was showing restraint, again the control thing and he knew she wanted it tonight. "Yes," she finally managed to say, though it was more of a combined groan and hiss than it was an actual word she uttered.

***

Lecter thought she would never allow him to touch her, that he would throughout their entire time coupling have to lay there idly and let her do as she pleased. Not that the idea wasn't altogether unappealing, he enjoyed seeing her so carefree and obviously not thinking about the repercussions of this evening.

She didn't seem to want him to kiss her just now, so he let his hands freely roam along her neck and throat, over her collarbone to her breasts. He sucked in a breath at the feel of the swell of her breasts in his hands, the hardness of her nipple against the pads of his fingertips. With her hands on his thighs and her head still dropped back slightly her back was arched more than just a little. It was one of the better offerings he could ever remember getting.

She was beautiful, her body was well formed and toned. She was soft in the places a woman should be soft and not so soft in all the others. Years of hard work were both effective and obvious, and Lecter appreciated it a great deal. One hand slid from her breast slowly along her abdomen, brushing her skin with the backs of his fingers until he was at the apex between her legs right above where they were joined.

He heard her groan as his fingertips began to rub her there. He was so close to his own orgasm, with her going down on him in the bathroom as she had it was a wonder to him he had lasted this long. He couldn't recall a woman ever doing that in such a manner to him before. Like she wanted to, like she couldn't wait to, and it was a little humbling that she would want him that much to risk the discomfort of the tile floor against her knees to take him like that. Bold Clarice, this was a side of her he wasn't accustomed to seeing but wanted to see much, much more of it.

He offered her a wicked smile as she looked at him. She was flushed, a light coat of perspiration evident on her face, neck, and chest though he knew he too had visible effects from their lovemaking. He returned her kiss eagerly, hungrily when she leaned towards him. His hand between her legs slowed slightly until their kiss turned tenderer, less urgent.

His lips skimmed along her chin and jaw to her ear which he bit and sucked on gently a soft groan emitting from his mouth. "Clarice," he said softly knowing his climax was eminent. He couldn't hold back any longer. She felt so good sheathed over him, on top of him, kissing him, her breasts pressed against his chest.

She seemed to know what he was saying as she moved against him, encouraging his hand to touch her in the way he assumed she liked best. He was more than willing to comply, eager to know what she would sound like and how she would react during the height of lovemaking.

He finished just before she did, but he felt her contract and caress him as her climax moved through her. She was sadly quiet in the midst of her pleasure, he would have liked to hear her vocally climax as well as physically. His arms encircled her and clutched her against him. She was still straddling him, he knew she would adjust herself when the position she was currently in grew too unbearable.

His breathing while accelerated for him was still rather regulated as compared to most peoples might be given the physical exertion he had just expended, but he languished her with sensual kisses along her neck, jaw, and her lips without kissing her mouth fully.

"You win," she said softly against his shoulder.

"I win what," he asked cautiously, curious what she meant.

"You've effectively relaxed me better and more than I've ever been relaxed before in my life."

He laughed heartily, the gesture causing her to move slightly against his vibrating chest. "Was it the bath or the sex?"

"Both," she said, looking up at him with a sheepish smile on her face.

She kissed him and Lecter returned her kiss, bringing the bed's bedding around them. "I'm not sure I can offer you more baths this evening, Clarice, but I think I can offer you more sex."

"You think?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Mm," she mumbled softly as she bit his lower lip. "I'd rather have the sex anyway, so how do I go about finding out if your thoughts will come true or not?"

He groaned softly, feeling her contract herself around him still inside of her. "Keep doing that and you'll find out soon that it will come true."

"Good," she said with a light laugh.

"Clarice," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you came down."

"Me, too, Doctor. Me, too."

He stroked her hair with care with a slight sigh. "You can call me by my name I think, Clarice. Doctor seems a little formal after what just transpired between us."

She laughed lightly, kissing his shoulder. "Yes, it's the respectfulness in me, Hannibal. I would never presume to address you by your name."

"Are you staying all night?"

"I shouldn't."

"I didn't ask if you should, I asked if you were."

"Yes," she said after a long moment's pause.

"Good. I'm not ready to release you back into the real world yet."

~The End~

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com