Condonare (1/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 07:58:13 UTC
Charles was in his first year at Oxford, and there had never been anything more heady or frightening. Back in Westchester there had been his sister- and the servants- but mostly drafty rooms and old pianos and endless stacks of books. That had been nice.
And then there had been his private school, which had been nice too. Dull rich boys, smart rich boys, rebellious rich boys. All of which Charles had tried out being. (Raven had playfully asked him, once, who slid more easily in and out of skins that did not belong to them.)
Of course there had been times-
He'd been on a street in New York, shopping for Christmas presents with his mother (before she found the bottle)- he'd been waiting with her for the cab when something had hit him violently, a completely alien need that felt- not even wrong at first, simply intense and natural, and it had taken him a while for his mind to reject it as foreign. A man across the street was staring at a woman quite near Charles, mind a thick stream of bitchcunt sex fuckthosetits good show-her-damn-
( ... )
Condonare (2/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:01:18 UTC
He shivered and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck. The furious November wind buffeted his clothes and dragged his coat back. Charles fought the paranoid urge to look behind him.
The man named Hannibal Lecter (he had many aliases, but his real name had glowed like a beacon when Charles had automatically searched for it, fiercely tied into the yes this is what I am portion of themselves most people didn't really know they had) had no reason to come after him. Charles had gleaned little coherent details from the focused mess that was the man's mind, but he was fairly certain that he'd never done anything to deserve
( ... )
Condonare (3/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:03:31 UTC
Charles could not tell if Hannibal were mute, or if staying silent was his conscious choice. He caught several rapid memories in which Hannibal, not much younger, had spoken to people. But Hannibal seemed not much inclined to talk to anyone right now, and that included Charles.
He tried desperately to stay out of Hannibal's mind- it was not so much that it was a dark, violent place to be in than it was a foreign one. Hannibal's violence was measured, directed, and Charles, once he came out of his daze of terror, realized that the direction pointed nowhere near him.
But still, he didn't dare tell Hannibal he wanted him to leave.
It was well into midnight, and they'd gone through half a bottle of inexpensive Pinot Grigio when Hannibal said, suddenly, have you met anyone else like yourself?
"No," Charles said, and moved a pawn.
Hannibal smiled, and leaned over. Touched the side of Charles' neck. (He stopped himself from shivering- just.) Again. Have you met anyone else?
Raven, Charles thought, terrified, and repeated: "Never
( ... )
Re: Condonare (3/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, languagezombieboybandOctober 25 2011, 13:01:38 UTC
Anon, I have to go to work now, but this is fucking amazing and--gentle, in so many ways, and beautiful, but absolutely menacing at the same time. I had not at all considered telling this story from Charles's point of view, because the...telepath looking into a mind that is other thing is so hard to do, but...fuck. This is beautiful.
And then he found the courage to add, "In the kitchen? Really?"
I feel like all my favorite fics in this fandom have a moment that make me go, "AHA, Charles, how so Charles," and, boom, that's it, here.
The divine fear-curiosity-fear here is exquisite. You would know not to be afraid, while Charles fears Hannibal himself, his closeness, his presence, and how utterly unafraid Hannibal is.
I am stunned, and fangirling wildly, and I am going to be squirming ALL DAY; thank fuck it's a half day.
dlikjldsjk. clutching at my throat and being horrified and transfixed and aroused, anon.
Condonare (4/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:05:25 UTC
Charles spread his legs, lifted his hips, and watched Hannibal's eyes (black in this light) narrow as he widened Charles. Spit shouldn't have been enough, really, but he made it enough- somehow- and Hannibal made it feel more comfortable than some people managed with lube. Charles had no idea. He found that he enjoyed it quite a lot if he kept away from whatever Hannibal was thinking- if Hannibal had something urgent to say, he could stop fucking Charles to say it- and just concentrated on-
Hannibal's slide in was just right, in a way Charles really hadn't felt before, slotting in at a decent angle, hurting just enough to be good. Charles bit his lip and clenched around Hannibal, and the groan he drew out of the other man was glorious. Hannibal's fingers were bruisingly tight on Charles' ass as he pushed in. His dark, elegant brows arched almost quizzically as Charles gasped and squirmed, bearing back on Hannibal's cock.
It wasn't until Hannibal made a soft, irritated noise that Charles started listening in again (reluctantly).
( ... )
Condonare (5/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:07:53 UTC
Hannibal stared at him, his mind slamming shut to him for a second. (Not even Raven could do that.) Charles waited for his judgment, fork poised above his buttered asparagus. What now? Would he silently leave, or would he dice him up as well, for being impolite? (Rudeness is epidemic, Hannibal had once said, in a world not so far away.)
But Hannibal said to him, will you let me draw you?
Draw and quarter? Drawn along a chariot, as Hector's corpse had been? Charles focused his gibbering mind. "You mean, like, sketch."
The dimple on his left cheek deepened when he smiled.
"I have class, you know."
I don't need you to sit for me, Hannibal said. Just your permission.
Asking, Charles figured, was a huge deal here. "Sure."
Hannibal was good. Hannibal was very, very good. While Charles was away, he produced fifteen or so sketches of Charles- sleeping, eating, studying, in the bar- and one where he was sprawled out, cheeks dark with pleasure.
I hope you don't mind that I'll be taking all but one of them, Hannibal said. I have someone
( ... )
Condonare (6/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:09:56 UTC
--
And, well, that wasn't the sort of thing you shook off.
Time whetted November into December and gave the air bite that Charles had missed in New York. Winters were actually warmer here, but often (usually just in the mornings) it felt colder- perhaps because of the humidity. Charles had plenty to worry himself with; there were women and there were men, and then there were professors and papers. And parties and drink and sports. But all throughout (for the first month after Hannibal left, at least) Charles kept remembering the feel of his mind, the graceful strength of his slim fingers, and wondered where precisely in Oxford Hannibal had located and then butchered his prey. Near or far, it was something that Charles had let happen.
Bronys Grentz-He thought of Hannibal, sidestepping arterial spray
( ... )
Condonare (7/18) Warnings: murder, mentions of cannibalism, dubious morality, dubcon, language
anonymous
October 25 2011, 08:13:40 UTC
Hannibal thought: He means it. And I hope you were not indiscreet about my stay here."I'm plenty terrified," Charles said wearily, wondering whether to touch Erik Lehnsherr's mind as he did Hannibal's, and deciding against it. One was quite enough. But even from this distance, he could feel a fundamental difference between them. Erik was terrified, and ready to strike out, ready to flee. Hannibal was nothing like that. But Erik, too, had that everywhere-in-the-same-direction feel to his mind, of something shattered having been reconstructed. Like magnetic domains; tiny pieces of metal reorienting their fields to one
( ... )
Reply
Um. Okay. All my shame. Right.
Reply
I recall the books most definitely saying they were red, and I think Silence of the Lambs... oh, it's been a long time.
Any mention of their color in Hannibal Rising?
Reply
I am also ridiculously excited and may already love you.
Reply
Reply
SOBBING, ANON, SOBBING.
Reply
And go! author!nonnie! Go!
Reply
And then there had been his private school, which had been nice too. Dull rich boys, smart rich boys, rebellious rich boys. All of which Charles had tried out being. (Raven had playfully asked him, once, who slid more easily in and out of skins that did not belong to them.)
Of course there had been times-
He'd been on a street in New York, shopping for Christmas presents with his mother (before she found the bottle)- he'd been waiting with her for the cab when something had hit him violently, a completely alien need that felt- not even wrong at first, simply intense and natural, and it had taken him a while for his mind to reject it as foreign. A man across the street was staring at a woman quite near Charles, mind a thick stream of bitchcunt sex fuckthosetits good show-her-damn- ( ... )
Reply
He shivered and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck. The furious November wind buffeted his clothes and dragged his coat back. Charles fought the paranoid urge to look behind him.
The man named Hannibal Lecter (he had many aliases, but his real name had glowed like a beacon when Charles had automatically searched for it, fiercely tied into the yes this is what I am portion of themselves most people didn't really know they had) had no reason to come after him. Charles had gleaned little coherent details from the focused mess that was the man's mind, but he was fairly certain that he'd never done anything to deserve ( ... )
Reply
He tried desperately to stay out of Hannibal's mind- it was not so much that it was a dark, violent place to be in than it was a foreign one. Hannibal's violence was measured, directed, and Charles, once he came out of his daze of terror, realized that the direction pointed nowhere near him.
But still, he didn't dare tell Hannibal he wanted him to leave.
It was well into midnight, and they'd gone through half a bottle of inexpensive Pinot Grigio when Hannibal said, suddenly, have you met anyone else like yourself?
"No," Charles said, and moved a pawn.
Hannibal smiled, and leaned over. Touched the side of Charles' neck. (He stopped himself from shivering- just.) Again. Have you met anyone else?
Raven, Charles thought, terrified, and repeated: "Never ( ... )
Reply
And then he found the courage to add, "In the kitchen? Really?"
I feel like all my favorite fics in this fandom have a moment that make me go, "AHA, Charles, how so Charles," and, boom, that's it, here.
The divine fear-curiosity-fear here is exquisite. You would know not to be afraid, while Charles fears Hannibal himself, his closeness, his presence, and how utterly unafraid Hannibal is.
I am stunned, and fangirling wildly, and I am going to be squirming ALL DAY; thank fuck it's a half day.
dlikjldsjk. clutching at my throat and being horrified and transfixed and aroused, anon.
/is OP
Reply
Reply
Charles spread his legs, lifted his hips, and watched Hannibal's eyes (black in this light) narrow as he widened Charles. Spit shouldn't have been enough, really, but he made it enough- somehow- and Hannibal made it feel more comfortable than some people managed with lube. Charles had no idea. He found that he enjoyed it quite a lot if he kept away from whatever Hannibal was thinking- if Hannibal had something urgent to say, he could stop fucking Charles to say it- and just concentrated on-
Hannibal's slide in was just right, in a way Charles really hadn't felt before, slotting in at a decent angle, hurting just enough to be good. Charles bit his lip and clenched around Hannibal, and the groan he drew out of the other man was glorious. Hannibal's fingers were bruisingly tight on Charles' ass as he pushed in. His dark, elegant brows arched almost quizzically as Charles gasped and squirmed, bearing back on Hannibal's cock.
It wasn't until Hannibal made a soft, irritated noise that Charles started listening in again (reluctantly). ( ... )
Reply
But Hannibal said to him, will you let me draw you?
Draw and quarter? Drawn along a chariot, as Hector's corpse had been? Charles focused his gibbering mind. "You mean, like, sketch."
The dimple on his left cheek deepened when he smiled.
"I have class, you know."
I don't need you to sit for me, Hannibal said. Just your permission.
Asking, Charles figured, was a huge deal here. "Sure."
Hannibal was good. Hannibal was very, very good. While Charles was away, he produced fifteen or so sketches of Charles- sleeping, eating, studying, in the bar- and one where he was sprawled out, cheeks dark with pleasure.
I hope you don't mind that I'll be taking all but one of them, Hannibal said. I have someone ( ... )
Reply
And, well, that wasn't the sort of thing you shook off.
Time whetted November into December and gave the air bite that Charles had missed in New York. Winters were actually warmer here, but often (usually just in the mornings) it felt colder- perhaps because of the humidity. Charles had plenty to worry himself with; there were women and there were men, and then there were professors and papers. And parties and drink and sports. But all throughout (for the first month after Hannibal left, at least) Charles kept remembering the feel of his mind, the graceful strength of his slim fingers, and wondered where precisely in Oxford Hannibal had located and then butchered his prey. Near or far, it was something that Charles had let happen.
Bronys Grentz-He thought of Hannibal, sidestepping arterial spray ( ... )
Reply
Hannibal thought: He means it. And I hope you were not indiscreet about my stay here."I'm plenty terrified," Charles said wearily, wondering whether to touch Erik Lehnsherr's mind as he did Hannibal's, and deciding against it. One was quite enough. But even from this distance, he could feel a fundamental difference between them. Erik was terrified, and ready to strike out, ready to flee. Hannibal was nothing like that. But Erik, too, had that everywhere-in-the-same-direction feel to his mind, of something shattered having been reconstructed. Like magnetic domains; tiny pieces of metal reorienting their fields to one ( ... )
Reply
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