CLARIC STARLING : WATCH. CLARICE STARTS TO MASTURBATE IN FRONT OF HANNIBAL + ' I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. '
although they have begun to share a bedroom [ as was always his preference ] he had not dared to presume. but little by little, contact was initiated. hannibal has kissed her before, under their guise of the married fell's. now it is not only for appearances -- not when it is in the privacy of their runaway home. his touches have increased in frequency, in locations, and lingered more. his fingers running through her hair; settling at the small of her back; curling around her waist to keep her close; a warm hand splayed open on her thigh. each time, her reaction gauged. and each time, it was more and more welcoming. to say he was pleased was an understatement. but even so, he did not anticipate this.
he left their room only for a few moments. and he fully intended to join her in bed after acquiring a small nightcap; twine their bodies as they have been recently. clothed, perhaps, but undeniably intimate and with the heat of promise between them. his patience, apparently, was no longer in her favor. perhaps that, too, was his design. for a moment, hannibal stares in the archway of the door with his wine in hand, with that breathy plea as like music to his ears. eyes slipping shut briefly, he inhales, and a full - bodied sigh follows; relief and pleasure, all in one.
it is a sight to behold, no doubt. and as much as he wishes to join her, to plunder as the starved beast he is, he does not. first, he intends to enjoy the scene played out before him, until neither of them can stand it any longer. he takes a seat on the elegant chair across from the bed -- the one that affords him the best view of her spread thighs, and the way her petite fingers touch herself where she wants him most. legs crossed as he settles comfortably into the chair, his fingers tighten around his wine glass; but he does not drink from it just yet.
❝ do not stop on my account, @cstarling. ❞ perhaps it is cruel of him to continue to make her wait, even if it won't be for much longer; but he never claimed to shed his sadism, even as his adoration for her grew wild in his blood. his nose, ever sensitive, could pick up what she were doing even if he were blind. the scent of her desire is thick and cloying in the air; the sound of how wet she is [ for him ] is loud enough to drown everything else out. despite his choice to observe, for now, hannibal is not unaffected. his skin is running hotter, pupils dilated and mouth watering; and beneath the thin silk pants he had intended to wear to bed, he's quickly becoming thick with arousal. who would not, when graced with such a sight?
with the scent of her flooding his nostrils, he finally takes a small sip of his wine, before setting it on the table beside him. it would not quench his thirst now, or satisfy him, when there is something far more delectable. ❝ how badly do you wish it were my hands on you instead, i wonder. my mouth. you look good enough to eat, and i would take my time savoring you. and only when you were half - mad with pleasure, would i take you. my desire for you knows no bounds -- you would find me hungry and insatiable. and for all of your efforts . . . ❞
his gaze unabashedly flicks down to the apex of her thighs, where her skin is flushed and slick, and the sight of her fingers disappearing into herself make his breath stutter. his control hands by a thread, and were he still holding onto his wine glass, it might shatter in his grasp. his lust is yet another layer peeled back; and only she can see the full picture of his being, in all of his intricate, terrifying glory. a perfect blend of man and beast, lying in wait.
❝ . . . as wet as you are, you'll need more than your own fingers if you wish to take all of me. ❞
