Return Of The Cannibal(Hannibal x Reader)(Book 2)

Chapter two

A cul-de-sac in a working-class neighborhood Arlington, Virginia, a little after midnight. It is warm fall night after rain. The air moves uneasily ahead of a cold front. In the smell of wet earth leaves, a cricket is playing a tune. He falls silent a big vibration reaches him, the muffled book of a 5.0-liter mustang with steel tube headers turning into the cul-de-sac, followed by a federal marshal car. The two cars pull into the driveway of a neat duplex and stop.

The mustang shudders a little at idle. When the engine goes silent, the cricket waits a moment and resumes his tune, his last before the frost, his last ever. A federal marshal in uniform gets out of the drivers seat of the mustang. He comes around the car and opens the passenger door for you. You get out. A white headband holds a bandage over your ear. Red-orange betadine stains your neck above the green surgical blouse you wear. You carry your personal effects in a plastic zip-lock bag - some mints and keys, your identification as a special agent of the federal bureau of investigation, a speed-loader containing five rounds of ammunition, a small can of mace. With the bag you carry a belt and empty holster. The marshal hands you your keys to your car. "Thank you, Bobby." you say. "You want me and Pharon to come in and sit with you awhile? Would you rather I get Sandra? She waits for me. I'll bring her over a little while, you need some company..." Bobby says. "No, I'll just go in now. Ardelia will be home after a while. Thank you, Bobby" you say. The marshal gets in the waiting car with his partner and when he sees you safely inside the house, the federal car leaves.

The laundry room in your house is warm and smells of fabric softener. The washing machine and clothes dryer hoses are clamped in place with plastic handcuff strips. You put down your personal effects on top of the washing machine. The car keys make a loud clank on the metal top. You take a load of wash out of the washing machine and stuff it into the dryer. You take off your fatigue pants and throw them in the washer and the surgical greens and your bloodstained bra and turn on the machine. You are wearing socks and underpants and a .38 special with shrouded hammer in an ankle holster. There are livid bruises on your back and ribs and an abrasion on your elbow. Your right eye and cheek are puffed.

The washing machine is warming and starting to slosh. You wrap yourself in a beach towel and pads into the living room. You come back with two inches of jack Daniel's neat in a tumbler. You sit down on the rubber mat before the washing machine and lean back against it in the dark as the warm machine throbs and sloshes. You sit on the floor with your face turned up and sob a few dry sobs before the tears come. Scalding tears on your cheeks, down your face.

Ardelia Mapp's date brought her home around 12:45, A. M. after a long drive down from Cape May, and she told him good night at the door. Mapp was in her bathroom when she heard the water running the thud in the pipes as the washing machine advanced its cycle. She went to the back of the house and turned on the lights in the kitchen she shared with you. She could see into the laundry room. She could see you sitting on the floor, the bandage around your head.

"Y/N! Oh, baby." Ardelia says, kneeling beside you quickly, "what is it?" Ardelia asks. "I got shot through the ear, Ardelia. They fixed it at Walter Reed. Don't turn the light on, okay?" You tell her. "Okay. I'll make you something. I haven't heard - we were playing tapes in the car - tell me." Ardelia says. "John's dead, Ardelia." You tell her. "Not Johnny Brigham!." Ardelia yells. Mapp and you both had crushes on Brigham when he was gunnery instructor at the FBI Academy. Both of you had tried to read his tattoo through his shirtsleeve.

You nodded and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand like a child. "Evelda Drumgo and some Crips. Evelda was tipped ahead and the TV news got there at the same time we did. Evelda was mine. She wouldn't give it up, Ardelia. She wouldn't give it up and she was holding the baby. We shot each other. She's dead." You explain. Mapp had never seen you cry before. "Ardelia, I killed five people today." You said. Mapp sat on the floor beside you and put her arm around you. Together you guys leaned back against the turning washing machine.

"What about Evelda's baby?" Ardelia asked. "I got the blood off him, He didn't have any breaks in his skin I could see. The hospital said physically he's all right. They're going to release him to Evelda's mother in a couple of days. You know the last thing Evelda said to me, Ardelia? She said, 'Let's swap body fluids, bitch." You tell her. "Let me fix you something," Mapp said "What?" You said. Ardelia poured you a glass of Jack Daniel's, neat. You both sat on the floor with the lights off and talked more about what happened and how you were feeling.

After you both finished your drinks Ardelia left so you could go to your room without her seeing your tears.

When you get to your room you rummage through your closet looking for something comfy to wear. You put on a bra and underwear. You slide the hangers to the other side not happy with anything you find till you come across one particular sweater, you just stare at it, you pushed it to the back of your closet around the same time you bought this house with Ardelia, you've pretty much given up hope of him coming back since it's been 10 years already and not even a letter from him. Your eyes well up from overthinking 'Hannibal' you whisper to yourself.

You grab the sweater off the hanger and throw it over your matching bra and underwear set, it still reaches a little above your knees, and the sleeves still hang over your hands, your completely engulfed in his sweater. You make your way to the bathroom and start filling the tub, you remove all your clothing and carefully step in. You tilt your head back against the tub your head is overflowing with memories of Hannibal, you don't understand why your just now thinking about him and why you can't get him out of your mind. You remember his hands touching all over you, the way he towered over you, the way his cock filled you completely, your eyes go wide and your legs squeeze shut 'what the hell am I doing.' You think to yourself. 'It's been 10 years why am I just now thinking about him.' you think. You go back to your shower but the thoughts still won't leave your head. The way he forced your head between the bars of his cell so he could shove his cock as far as he could down your throat, the way your body molded to his, the way his tongue felt against your clit. Your head leaned far back against the tub, and your legs squeezed shut, unable to ignore your arousal.

Your hand makes it's way into the water and between your legs, you rub your fingers around your aching clit, every thought of Hannibal builds your orgasm, you rub faster, you think about Hannibal, how his hand fit perfectly around your throat, how his lips tasted on yours, how he made your cunt ache from just the words he said to you. Your orgasm builds, you can feel yourself almost spill over the edge, like the water in the bath, your fingers move faster around your swollen clit. You close your eyes, you worry about Ardelia hearing you pleasure yourself but it feels so good after so long of not being touched by yourself or another person, so you continue on. You think about Hannibal holding a knife to your neck, you think about how tight your pussy fit around him, you think about all the times he called you his good girl and his little lamb, thinking about that sent you over the edge, you squeezed your eyes shut as pure pleasure rushes through you and you have one of the best orgasms you've had in a while. You remain laying in the bath trying to regain your breath. After about 20 more minutes you get up and drain the bath, wrapping yourself in a towel to dry off then throwing on Hannibal's sweater.

You walk out of the room, looking around to see if Ardelia was out there, she wasn't. She was in her room with the door closed and the lights off. A feeling of relief flows through you. You quietly head back to your room and get into bed, laying there, you question why he hasn't sent you a letter or called you.

'I miss you, Hannibal.' You think to yourself.