Apple of Their Psyche

She gasped when he pulled her, placing her on the desk. The ladder rattled as she was yanked away from it, almost falling over before settling back into place. She reciprocated his kisses, just as hard and hungry and biting, as her hands moved to undo his belt. The sound was incredibly loud when she pulled the zipper down.

Her mouth moved to suck on his neck as she pushed his trousers and boxers down around his thighs. Hands grabbed his ass firmly and clawed in deep, adjusting her legs into position as she pulled him close. 

Starling’s lips brushed against the bite mark before moving up to his ear. Her tongue licked the shell of it before she whispered, deep and growling, “Fuck me hard, Doctor.” She wanted no thoughts left in her head when it was over.

It always pleased him so to see this side of her surface. Primal. Instinctive. Lustful.

His cock twitched as her hands clawed into his flesh. A gasp of pleasure escaping his lips. Her bites taking things to another level.

The reassurance meant a lot to her, and as it was followed by him dropping to his knees the subject completely left her mind. She felt a weight lifted off her soul, as easily as her thighs lifted to his shoulders so he could bury his face between her legs.

Her hands gripped the ladder hard to stay in position, a loud moan spilling from her as his tongue penetrated her. She did not disappoint in the sounds she made, the pleasure he was bringing her made clear in every whimper and muttered curse. He was the only one that ever heard her thoughts, and that included the profanities that colored each of them. 

It did not take her long to climax around his tongue, moaning his name in a high, strangled pitch and a smile pulling at her lips as the sensation faded and she gave a relieved sigh. 

His tongue traced her lower lips once more. Making sure, the wetness was clean. Taking every drop he could savor from her netherlips.

He pulled her down hard. Placed her upon his desk. Discarding whatever sense of organization he had. He would reconfigure as necessary. His desk could be put back together like that of the countless crime scenes that had come across it.

He tugged at her panties and she lowered her leg to the floor, letting them fall off of her. When he put pressure on the spot he liked to bite her so often, she breathed in sharply through her teeth from the pain.

“I…” Her eyes fluttered a little and then she forced them wide, keeping contact with his. “I didn’t…feel bad about it.” She admitted. Her hand moved to take one of his, directing it between her legs and a whimper escaping at the contact of his fingers. 

“It was…dark, I couldn’t see where he was but I just…fired when I thought I heard breathing.” She broke off to let out a moan. “And when I got the lights on…saw him there on the floor I…I could have save him. That was what I was supposed to do but…but I didn’t…” She got choked up, her pleasured sounds colored by the strain of holding back tears. 

“I let him bleed out, and then I felt…I don’t know…like justice had been done.” She looked up to meet his eyes again, her own terribly wet. “I felt righteous. He didn’t deserve to live.”

He smiled and half growled at the sight of her pleasure. The slightest of touches eliciting pleasure.

He listened intently. Letting instincts take over. Desire winning out. He was proud of her. Proud to be with her. “You did as we always have. Trust instinct.”

He spoke no further, lowered himself to his knees and went straight to the source. His lips sucking against her clit. His tongue pushing in. Wanting every single drop, he could devour. Wanting to hear her moans of pleasure.

He started groping her, and her hands returned to the ladder for stability as a sharp gasp came out of her. One of her legs hitched up to his hip, her skirt getting pushed up her thighs and exposing them. “You gonna spank me?” She asked, her voice soft and low, like she would welcome it if he tried.

The question, so soft against her skin as he kissed her neck, was a hard one for her to answer. “I…” She swallowed hard and stumbled over it. “I don’t know.” It was a lie, more one she was telling herself than one she was trying to trick him with. 

She caught his mouth when she could, pulling him into hungrier, needier kisses. Starling knew that once they got going there was no use trying to stop it or even slow it down. They couldn’t stay off of each other when they were alone. 

He hardened at the contact. The mere touch. As though he were a teenager. “Tempt me.”

He stood by his words, when it came to her. Always. She was one of the few that could push him. Push his boundaries and so much more.

Whether it was the heat of the moment or not. He wasn’t going to accept denial. He knew her better than that. Trusted her better than that. An evening in the shower together had proven it.

He kissed her back deepily, hungrily. Needing her more with each and every kiss. He reached beneath her skirt, tugging at her panties. His hands reaching back. Finding the familiar mark and squeezing. Hoping it would inspire her results.

He laced their hands together and she rubbed his hand with her thumb. The solidarity and support he was showing wasn’t lost on her. She lay against the ladder, pulling him close into a tender, licking kiss. “I think I may have more demons than I thought.” She admitted in a whisper.

She sighed and rested her head back against one of the rungs. “Maybe I shouldn’t try to get back out into the field. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should just go back to counseling. My license is still good.”

Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, trying to keep herself from crying. “Not gonna resign, though, I know I’d probably regret it in the morning.”

It angered him, how much that inspired doubt in her. She deserved better. She deserved respect. Beyond him. Beyond their relationship.

His lips responded in kind. Tenderly kissing back. Comfort. Peace. “A demon, am I.”

He pushed her against the ladder. His hands firmly moving along her legs, cupping her ass. Squeezing and kneading her cheeks. The familiarity of her body offering him ease. 

“Don’t you dare.” It sounded almost childish coming from his lips playfully. “If you do, I’ll be tempted to put you over my knee.”

His hands exploring. Knowing the lay of the land well. Yet, never denying her beauty. If he had, he would be ashamed. She deserved to be worshiped. As many times as they had the chance.

Starling chuckled dryly. “Yes, Doctor, I’m familiar with open door philosophy.” Her hands moved to grip the sides of the ladder, wringing around them to simply to keep from fidgeting. 

“I’m sure I won’t be there forever, but it’ll be for a time.” She chuckled and looked up at him, “This means I’ll be doing a standard nine to five thing. You’ll be able to see me more. Evenings, weekends. That’s something. Still not as often as if we were living together, like you keep asking for. There’s a pretty long commute between here and Quantico and I wouldn’t want to make that every day. Still, it’s a bit of a breather.”

She looked down at her feet for a few moments, then sighed again. “The night terrors stopped, after I shot Gumb. After I saved Catherine. Part of me doesn’t want to get comfortable in the silence, I don’t think it will last long.”

He laughed softly. A smile forming on his lips. he moved his hand along her’s, gently holding it. A small sign of affection. A little thing that he knew would ease her.

“We have time,” he said. “Just as we had, when I was your professor.” It sounded almost like bragging rights. Something almost foolish coming out of his mouth. “We’ll figure things out. As we always have.”

The affection that he had for her seemed to come from his lips with ease these days. There were always points of contention between them but they stood by one another in their own unique ways.

He cupped her cheek gently. His index finger rubbing against it. His eyes firmly meeting her’s. “There are demons that often need to come out. To remind us of what truly lurks within.”

ASKED:

“My clothes look better on you than they do on me.”

Blonde locks were pulled up and over her left shoulder. He had been asleep when she had first gotten out of bed. She had grabbed the nearest fabric of clothing, pulled it around herself and tiptoed to the bathroom. When she returned, she didn’t bother crawling back into bed but instead walked over and gently pushed the window open. His white button up shirt was wrapped around her, not yet buttoned but pulled closed to cover her most intimate parts. She brought the fabric up, bunched it in her fist, and inhaled deeply. It smelled of him.

It might have seemed as if she were admiring the early morning view, but really she was busy thinking of him. Hannibal Lecter, the one who had consumed her every waking moment, and now even her sleeping ones. When he spoke, she turned. Her cheeks turning just a light shade of pink and she smiled softly. “Is that so?” she asked. A small shiver ran up her spine and her body responded, visibly shivering. “I much prefer on me as well. If they are on me, they are not on you…” She teased. Her blue eyes trailing over his chest.

The view of Bedelia was one of utter splendor. There was no denying her beauty. To any man, who did. He pitied them. They were at best foolishly blind. He supposed, he was lucky. One of the few she shared a bed with willingly. Shared a life together for that matter.

“It is,” he responded, pushing aside the blankets. Climbing to his feet to embrace her. His body exposed in all its glory for only her to admire. His lips trailing along her cheek, capturing them in and slow and tender fashion. A deeper fire burning within.

He wrapped his arms around her and she couldn’t help but melt into them. “Thank you,” She replied when he told her what he had told her superiors. Her arms relaxed, moving to wrap around him. She gave him a slight squeeze before pulling away. 

She started pacing around again, “I’ve never killed anyone before.” Starling said softly. “They train you for things in the Academy but…I don’t think anything could have prepared me for it.”

At the Bureau, they assumed she would be shaken, broken by it even. They expected her to crumble. The thing that bothered her the most was not their assumptions, but the reality that the opposite was true. She didn’t feel bad about it at all.

“They’re not putting me back out in the field right away anyway, I know that. I’m a fresh graduate, gotta do my time in the file rooms. I’ll honestly be lucky if they ever let me out of it. They don’t like taking women out of the office.”

She paused in front of the ladder and leaned her back against it, half-sitting on one of the rungs and letting out a sigh. “My roommate, Ardelia, she’s getting shifted to cold cases. I’m gonna be in the back rooms of the BSU. Guess we aren’t going to be able to move in together like we planned. I’m gonna have to find a place near Quantico.”

The cruelty of the system wasn’t something he had much sway over. He could recommend her for a life in the field fully but to the F.B.I., he was a pawn. A piece to pulled out from their own amusement and aid as deemed necessary. Not that it wasn’t, without it’s perks.

Her words echoed in his ears. About how she had never killed anyone. The reality of it hitting her. At the back of his mind, he could see his younger self attacking Paul Momund. The local town butcher. The insult of his aunt still burning in his ears. The blindness of his actions far winning out. The taste of his cheeks. His first taste of human flesh. The memory clear as day.

“You’ll prove them wrong,” he said. “You know as well as I. You don’t belong confined to some desk. It’s dull, uninspiring and unfulfilling. That isn’t your nature.”

The parallels they shared never failed to please him. There were certainly variable differences. Lines that they both drew in the sand. He shared his opinion with her on the dullness that was office life. Certainly, it was a job but it didn’t fulfill him either. At best, it was the ends to justify the means. A door way to more resources.

“Just…stop talking.” She said softly. She turned away from him, the wheels turning in her mind. She was playing over everything that he had said, everything he had done since she told him about the moth they’d found in that poor girl’s throat. He’d pushed her in all the right directions, done essentially everything without revealing his own connection to the killer.

If he had, she knew, he would have been shut out, or the FBI would have started digging through his records and the privacy of his patients was everything to his livelihood. Starling had been very clear about wanting to tow the company line, to do everything right if she could. They weren’t taking her seriously and it would have been all the harder if she had a reputation for going totally rogue.

She turned the folded letter over in her hands a few times, as if considering what to do with it. Should she turn it in, all sorts of questions would be asked, but if it was gone…

A moment later she strode over to the fireplace, taking a steadying breath before she tossed the letter into it. It wasn’t as though she was blameless, either, and she wouldn’t put everything about his life in danger for this. She crossed her arms over her chest, starting to pace around again.

“You’re not going to rubber-stamp me, are you?” She asked him, changing the subject in a silent agreement never to speak of the letter again. “If I’m not fit for the field…I don’t want you letting me keep at it just because of…what we have here.”

He stood in silence. Just taking in the weigh of her actions. The weight of the world seemingly on her shoulders. Her pacing. Her nervousness. The tangible nature of what could and couldn’t happen all at once. His face emotionless. Correlating. Always prepared for uncertainty. Welcoming whatever necessary choice faced him.

He had been informed of her behavior within Gumb’s house. The risks she had taken. Her impulsiveness working in her favor. She had become a hero in the eyes of the world. He was proud of her. Not that he could fully reveal that. Not within office hours. Still, she confided in him.

He watched with amusement as the file was engulfed by the flames. Joining the already stoked embers. Vanishing as if nothing had ever happened. He moved toward her, embracing her as he had the first night she had told him about the slaughter of the lambs. His protective nature taking precedent. Their worlds forever bleeding together.

“No,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m not going to rubber stamp you. Your decision has nothing to do with what’s happened here. I have spoken with your superiors and recommended a respite for you. A weeks leave. Nothing less. Just something to give you some breathing room from the investigation.”

He moved his arms along her back, holding her securely. Trying his best to ease her. Knowing full well the weight of what she had gone through. He had read the final report in detail. Thrice to assure, he had an understanding of what could reside in her mind.

“That just…wasn’t the time and place to talk about it.” She countered, when he brought up the few times she had kept things to herself. “But if you knew it was him…how long? How many of those girls could we have saved?” She asked. She took the letter back, and was firm about it. The decision of what to do with it shouldn’t being his power and the look she gave him made that clear.

“It’s easy enough to put things together. Raspail was your client, he was concerned about his boyfriend, or maybe they were having issues finding a doctor to approve him for surgery, and you offered to help. There were no…insurance forms and the like for Gumb so I guess you did it off the books.” She kept walking around as she talked, trying to maintain a distance. She didn’t want him distracting her.

“Of course your assessment revealed he should be rejected. He wasn’t trans, after all, just suffering from gender trauma he refused to face. You wrote up the letter but instead of sending it out he opened it and read it. I guess he suspected you were going to say no.” She turned on her heel to look at him. “All of that I could piece together, but not why you would keep so much to yourself.”

She sighed, pausing to rub her eyes. “Just…tell me when you knew for sure it was him.”

“The moth,” he answered. Simple. Direct and to the point. If that’s what she needed to ease her mind than so be it.

By that point, there had been six victims in tow. A commonality, he had long since accepted, when it came down to cases such as these. The pathology of the killers tended to vary. Sure, there were clear things but not all cases shared common traits. Things that were connected with ease. Gumb was no exception.

As seemed to come habit, he studied her like he would a painting. Noticing the finest of details. How her mind connected the dots together, connected him to the case. His admiration for her, never ceasing.

Clarice Starling

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