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After Dinner on the Chesapeake
copyright 1999, by Running With Deer
Disclaimer:
The characters Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling were created by Thomas
Harris. They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of
admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended, and no
profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this
site.
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PART 5
The dream ended and Clarice opened her eyes. In the murky light, she saw Lecter standing over her, and felt his hand, warm on the inside of her leg, slowly caressing.
She took advantage of the moment and stretched, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward. She felt wickedly out of character, which made her enjoy it all the more.
Gracefully, she swung her legs over the side of the banquette and stood face to face with him. His dressing gown was belted closed, but barely.
“What made you leave the bed, Clarice?” he asked.
She saw no need to tell him of the doubts that had assailed her earlier upon awakening, or the conversation she’d had with herself in the bathroom mirror. Besides, those cold moments now seemed far less real than the dream she’d just come out of. It had been a dream of warm water and safety, of a decision.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “but I’d like to lie in it again now, if you would.” Overwhelmed by a need to touch him, she reached up and stroked his face, feeling warmed by his eyes, which shone in the faint light from the window.
She tugged at the belt of his robe and it yielded easily. She allowed herself a quick glance downward and confirmed that he was quite aroused. The sight pleased her; it was the first she’d had of him so far.
She brought her mouth to his and kissed him. It seemed to galvanize him. His arms came around her, just as she gently pushed the robe off his shoulders onto the floor.
Lecter made no move to retrieve it, as he had done with her gown. He was holding her tightly, his lips hungrily exploring hers. Clarice stood on tiptoe and carefully positioned herself over and around his erection, and squeezed him between her thighs. He reached down and grasped her buttocks, pulling her closer, and a cry of excitement escaped her.
Slowly, carefully, he stepped backward, and she went with him, as if in a dance. It was only a yard or two to the top of the bed, and he sat on the edge, allowing her to bring her knees up. Her body rose as she straddled him, legs spread wide, and he took the opportunity to lick at her nipples, now icy-hot and aching with urgency. She threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, and was aware, through her sexual trance, that he was watching her carefully, savoring the effect he had on her.
His mouth and hands were everywhere, and their heat, in contrast with the cold air in the room, added to the pleasure. She felt herself growing frantic with need for him.
He reached past her to the nightstand drawer and retrieved a silk scarf.
“May I lash you to the bed, Clarice?” he whispered, “just for a few moments?” She nodded mutely, her eyes revealing a combination of amazement and total trust. “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing her lips softly. He motioned her to the head of the bed and positioned her facing the wall, kneeling on the pillow. He crossed her wrists over the top bar of the brass headboard and wound the scarf around them, so loosely, she knew she could free herself at any time.
She found her voice and was grateful to hear it was steady. “What are you going to do?”
He moved behind her on the bed, and used his hands to spread her knees apart. Just as the cool air on her legs and rear began to feel uncomfortable, he moved to cover her with his warm body.
He leaned over her; she felt simultaneously his hands holding hers on the headboard; the pillow grazing her nipples, and his erection probing her clitoris.
“I’m going to climb up on top of you like this,” he explained, his voice exciting her nearly as much as his lips, sucking at her shoulder. “Caress you, like this,” he continued, and held onto the headboard with one hand while the other explored her torso slowly. His fingers combed delicately through her hair, sending tingles to her scalp, then all the way down her spine. “Make you wait, while I do this,” and before she could ask, he had nimbly reversed himself so that now he was lying flat on his back, nibbling between her legs, his tongue, lips and breath so very hot, and his hands stroking her stomach, keeping her magically warm all over. She lowered her body further so that her nipples would come into contact with the pillow. The silk scarf strained deliciously against her wrists, warming with her heat. Her animal arousal prompted her to rotate her hips, and the pillow chafed against her nipples, joining with Lecter’s tongue to bring her swiftly to a climax. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry out her ecstasy. It was a deep, pulsating orgasm that he enjoyed with her, two of his long fingers insinuating their way into her feverishly throbbing vagina.
She felt him change position again, back where he had been, covering her, comforting her…
“…and now I’m going to fuck you until you faint!” he whispered urgently into her ear, and she moaned out in her need. He didn’t delay, but rose up behind her. She pushed her body back to accept his, and all at once he was there, inside her, filling her, massaging every moist, swollen part of her.
“Yes! Oh—” she sobbed incoherently, hearing his respiration deepen and quicken in her ear. She arched her back to be in maximum contact with him; he reached down a hand and caressed her breasts once again. She turned her head to look back at him, and they kissed, slowly, deeply, his mouth capturing hers, and soon she drifted into her second orgasm. He felt it, and began to thrust hard into her. She felt his scrotum knock against her clitoris and couldn’t hold back a shriek, which his mouth covered, as it had earlier that night. The orgasm went on until it reached the edge of pain, and at that moment, with a flick of his hand, Lecter undid the scarf holding her and lowered her arms to the bed. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew his length from her-—she could feel he was still fully erect—and helped her stretch out prone. He paused a moment to let her rest, then knelt beside her and turned her over onto her back.
Smiling into her face, he asked “What was it you said at dinner, my dear? A quotation from Dickens, I believe it was.”
She understood him instantly and drew her legs up as high and as wide as they might go, opening to invite him.
“Please sir,” she whispered with a saucy grin, “May I have some more?”
Deftly as a magician, he pulled the covers from underneath her, slid in and arranged the sheet and blankets over the two of them. All cozy and warm they were, now. She embraced him, stroking his hair and nuzzling his neck, clasping him to her. She felt her heart pounding.
“You may,” he said, and smoothly entered her again. This time he held himself away from her just enough to look into her face, and moved his hips ever so lightly, feather strokes, which brought her to the edge even faster. As the spasms shook through her, she expected that he would choose this time to descend with a hard bang—but he didn’t. He kept going at the same steady pace, holding her in his eyes, savoring the experience with her. The climax peaked, began to decline, but seeing his face so close to hers, and marveling once again at what they had attained together, she felt a new one building, seamlessly out of the first, and let her body go with it, as Lecter studied her with fascinated hunger. As she reached her peak, he held her tightly, reassuringly; ran his tongue over her cheekbone and pressed her earlobe between his lips. She felt the barest nubs of facial hair around his mouth, and this distinctly masculine aspect of him sent new waves of delight cascading into those that were now slowing. She strained to kiss him again, and as their mouths met, she felt the muscles in his legs go suddenly taut, and knew he was enjoying his own release, though he made not a sound. An inch from her face, his eyes closed, giving him a look of unexpected innocence.
She squeezed her legs around him tightly, thinking “I love you, I love you…” but not letting the words escape her lips. She held him until the urgent thrusts abated and he allowed himself one final shudder before relaxing totally in her arms.
The night stretched slowly into morning, but Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter slept on, cradled, utterly at rest in a dreamless place, enclosed in a cocoon of fragrant softness, a peace they had made together.
Fin
Part 5 of 5