She clenched her muscles, her delicate walls ripping around him to encourage his release. Abruptly, he pulled out of her and her world spun. With dizzying speed, she found herself facing him again. He spread her thighs wider and plunged into her again. Two strokes in, his hand shot out to wrap around her throat. Clarice’s eyes bulged in shock as his grip tightened, nearly cutting off her air supply. Desperately, she sucked in trickles of oxygen as he plunged relentlessly into her core. His face was madness, his hair drenched with sweat, his eyes gone dark and vacant. He squeezed her throat tighter as he climbed the ledge of his climax until she could no longer breathe at all. Her hands flew to her neck, clawing desperately at his hand. Tiny black dots appeared on the periphery of her vision as the world darkened around her.
Her body bucked against his involuntarily as her sight dimmed, faded and fuzzy. Hannibal fucked her into the bed with his hand choking off the last of her air; he made a savage sound as he orgasmed inside her.
He collapsed on top of her, his grip slack at the base of her neck. Clarice gasped for air beneath him; the weight of his body crushing her, combined with the lack of oxygen, left her dizzy and lightheaded.
Tears were streaming down her face and she was sobbing beneath him when he finally roused himself to look at her. His eyes were glassy and unfocused; it was almost as if he didn’t really see her, or couldn’t comprehend why she was there. She had no illusions of aftercare from him when he was in that state. Her chest heaved with trembling shudders as she fought the constricting phantom grip of fear that she could still feel encircling her throat. He didn’t move to comfort her as she wept out all the grief and suffering she felt, and she didn’t expect him to. She was bewildered by the uncharacteristic tenderness when Hannibal drew her into his arms as he rolled onto his side, burying his face in the back of her neck.
Clarice curved her body into his, as she drew her thoughts around her like a shroud, the occasional shivering gasp sneaking through as her breathing returned to normal. Her need to please him was something she didn’t understand. Loving him was confusing and terrifying, elating and impassioned. He made her feel things that she didn’t even know she was capable of. And she had never questioned it; questioned how right he felt to her. It felt…...inexplicable to her; she couldn’t fathom attempting to define or quantify the depths of this mysterious thing between them. She buried her mind in the the puzzle of their impossible life together. She gradually became aware of Hannibal’s steady heartbeat against her back. The last of her tears slowly subsided as she was lulled by his deep, even breathing. She eventually relaxed into the tremulous veil of sleep, her thoughts quieting into calmness as his seed trickled unhurriedly down her thighs.
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