Cerulean [Hannibal] ✓

trust

He knew trust to be a nimble thing. Wavering. But also  precious beyond measure. No matter what, he wanted to trust Saturn. He needed to trust her. She made him feel like he truly longed for her to completely know and accept him. A rather childish emotion on his part.
"I said we'd talk when we came back.", he says, leading her into his living room. She had left her shoes at the door and was just taking out her earrings but right then she stops in her movements. "Let's get some tea and sit down, handsome." They do and he takes her hand. "I remembered a few things I would prefer.. to never remember today.", Hannibal admits, gaining her attention and leading to her abandon her tea and pull up her legs, tucking them underneath her. She glances at him, urging him to speak. "I told you about where I grew up. Lithuania. But not.. How." He makes a small pause before continuing. "I thought of how I grew up an outcast for having six fingers on my left hand. It annoyed me so much it was the first thing I've ever operated on." Her hands take his left hand and gently trace the scar. "It was hard growing up like that. But I had my sister and parents.. Until that winter. They all died that day. And only I survived the attack that had ended my childhood." Her hands squeeze his hand. "I moved to my uncle and there I grew up before getting my degree and finally moving here. I thought about it a lot today and I thought I'd let you know this about myself." He finally looks down to her again. Her eyes moist as she holds his hand in her lap. "You are absolutely wonderful, Hannibal. No matter what your hands look like. No matter what your history was like. I am glad to have you right here. With me and for myself. And if you don't lean down here so I can kiss you I'll go insane." He leans down teasingly slow until she just pulls him to her. Pulls him into her arms. They lean back further and further until he is on top of her, between her lovely thighs. How lucky they were it was Friday. While his one hand rests against her cheek the other follows her body's curve down to her thighs, angling her leg up against his body. Her whole body is soft, giving and forgiving. He liked her shape. He adored it. Gently lifting her up he carries her towards the stairs, waiting for any sort of discontent or hesitation. But there was none. Nothing. So his steps lead him and consequently her upstairs and into his large bedroom where he comes as close as he can come to actually making Love to someone.
Neither of them care about food or.. anything, really. All that counted right then and there was them. Each other. And the pleasure between them.
Breathless they lay in bed, their bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat. His head resting against her bare chest, her fingers gently brushing through his hair as his hot breath leaves a trail of goosebumps on her skin and his arms hold her to him. No words needed to be said. Both knew what this had meant. The purest form of body language spoken between lovers with meaning or between strangers without. But this had meant something.. no.. everything to both of them.
His lips press a gentle kiss against her skin, before lifting up his form, glancing down at hers. "We appear to be in need of a bath." She chuckles and nods. "It appears we are." "I'll let one in then. Do you prefer a scent?" "You wouldn't have lavender oil around, would you?" "You are in luck." She smiles and sits up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I don't know if I should feel as thankful for Sartaines attempt at offending me that evening as I do. I'm glad to be with you, Hannibal. I couldn't wish for more." Her words touch him. No matter how withdrawn he was from the ability of feeling, she made him feel something he could not define. They share a kiss. "Neither could I, my love." "You do know you're stuck with me now..?" "I think I appreciate that more than you appear to think." She laughs, throwing back her head. "I don't doubt your intentions towards me aren't to simply use and then discard me, Hannibal. If I'd sense something dangerous from you I would have been far more reserved. When we first met I felt like I'd need to run and fast for a second. But I don't doubt it comes from my social awkwardness. So I apologize for that." His breath hitches slightly. She had felt it. She had sensed what he was and chose to ignore it still. But she had felt it. He kisses her once more. But this time not as a symbol of affection, but as one of admiration. He felt exposed. As if she had seen his spirit. And he felt already addicted to the thought of her, the rabbit, purposefully choosing to stay close to him, the fox. It was an unusual connection. No doubt. But he didn't mind it. For once, when the rabbit screams, the fox would come a'running to help.