Work Text:
Winter Things
“Bedelia, are you ready?” Hannibal fixed the cufflinks on his sleeves as he made his way to her bedroom. Long unzipped black velvet dress, Bedelia’s fine shoulder and back greeted him so pleasantly. The blue diamond adorning her finger caught his eyes and he couldn’t help but to think that this time, he had done something that felt so right by putting the jewelry on her finger.
Guessing that she didn’t hear him calling, Hannibal stepped in to the room. He was done admiring her figure from afar. Delicately, he brought his one hand to her waist and saw her smile through the full-length looking glass.
“I’m almost ready” She put on her necklace. “Could you?” Her head tilted, eyes glanced at the zipper.
A smile crept on his face as he brushed his lips against her skin. But instead of zipping the dress up, Hannibal placed his warm palm on her bare back and planted chaste kisses on the back of her neck. The smell of jasmine bloomed in his nose. It’s the scent of her, her pillows, her sweaters, and for every time he tasted her name in his tongue.
“Maybe, we can be a little bit late” His voice was low as a whisper as lips peppering kisses on her shoulder and neck. Hannibal slipped his hand that was previously on her back to envelope her naked stomach.
“I thought you detest rudeness” A moan was almost escaping her mouth with his roman nose nuzzling her. He didn’t say a word, instead, he moved his hand up with a smooth continued motion to cup her unrestrained breast, brushing against her sensitive nipple softly as a feather.
“Hannibal” First warning broke from her lips before finally writhe and whimper following after. And by the time he pulled off her black strapless gown, latched his hot wet mouth on her perky nipple, all rational thoughts flew off the window.
First one was on her bed, mouth noises were echoed in the room, thrusting tongues went on repeats. The gasping of both names and crude words were fallen from each of their swollen lips once he entered her, once she raked her manicured nails on his back, and once her walls spasm around him, forcing him to release all that was his inside of her.
Second one happened on her kitchen counter. Before Hannibal, Bedelia swore she would never be one of those people who christened their whole apartment’s space with carnal needs. For years she believed so until she watched his muscular naked chest while he worked around her kitchen and all that was left in her mind was just to ravish him senseless. She bit this time, marking his neck as he did to her previous time. It was none to gently; the way he bunched her silk nightgown up, spreading her legs wide and thrusting furiously inside. Bedelia bit his lip till it drew blood she could taste metal in her tongue. The obscene sounds of skin slapping filled the room before she screamed as his two fingers toyed with her clit and a guttural moan elicited from his mouth to her ear.
The third one happened by the fireplace, all the warm and tender feeling it made. There was no rush in this round; only low cries, soft moans, and satisfied sighs surrounded the dimly lit room.
Twinkling lights on a modest Christmas tree, crackling sounds from the fireplace and the gentle scratches of the turntable; spinning classic French Christmas carols warmed Bedelia’s town apartment. Two glasses of cabernet sauvignon and a half-eaten chocolate soufflé painted a domestic bliss aftermath of two people who just spent hours of nothings but making love. Laying on her stomach and wore nothing but Hannibal’s dress shirt, Bedelia was reading the latest L’Officiel when she heard two clicks from his vintage pentax camera.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” She smiled, ear-to-ear smile.
“No” Hannibal’s smirk confirmed things that he did not need to tell. “I was just taking a picture of what you are wearing.”
Her fair blonde hair swayed side to side as she shook her head in amusement. He smiled even wider and put down his camera before crawling to her and kissed her still-swollen lips.
Bedelia closed her eyes as each word was uttered from his lips, touching hers, “Merry Christmas, roses.”