Blood and Love

A Story of Hannibal Lecter

EXCITING PREVIEW: I wrapped my arms around his neck, twisting my fingers in his hair. I cemented his face to mine. I wasn't being careful with him, and he wasn't being gentle with me. My lips moved against his, wanting to be closer. I could taste the blood that still lingered in his mouth. Hot, salty...the best thing I had ever tasted.

University. The one thing I had been looking forward to for the past ten years of my life. It had not been five minutes since I had arrived in my new room on campus, and already I was dreading it. It was so much more daunting than I could ever have imagined. The campus was huge. Alone the size of the student building was the size of my parent's house.

I heard the door opening behind me. My new roommate was here. I lifted my head slightly, opening one eye. Then I stared outraged at the guy in front of me.

"What the hell?" I asked, almost infuriated. "Can I help you?" My teeth were gritted. He smiled at me shyly.

"Um, no. This is my room." He said, putting his bags down at his feet, still in the doorway. I stood up instantly, rootling around in my pocket. Eventually I pulled out the paper I was looking for. Walking over to him, I unfolded it. I pointed at the black and white writing.

"No, this is my room, see." He took a sudden step back. I took one too. I might have been in a bad mood, but I wasn't dangerous for goodness sake. The room was quiet as we regarded each other. He took in my curly blonde hair and black eyes. I took in his pale skin, gaunt face, and dark eyes. He looked...heart-achingly beautiful. At that moment I was just confused.

"No, this is definitely my room. Look..." He showed me his paper. It was true. We were roommates.

"Are you sure this is allowed?" I asked.

"Don't worry. I'm not a deviant." He grinned, looking down, laughing to himself. His smile seemed to be lacking something, the way his eyes squinted slightly made my eyes look down at my converses. I folded my arms, keeping my gaze on his leather jacket, letting the tan hold my eyes.

"So how are we going to sort this out?" I asked. "I don't think it's allowed for us to share a room." He looked at the clock that was already hung on the wall.

"Well, it's almost seven o'clock, so I'd say it's a bit late to sort anything out now. How about I take you for a drink and you can see for yourself that I'm not iniquitous." With eyes as dark and intriguing as that how could I refuse?

"Fine." I said, grabbing my jacket. "But the first round is on you." He laughed.

"First round? How many are you planning on?"

"Enough to make me trust you."

We sat down at the bar downstairs, clutching at our fifth drinks. He was unsurprisingly genteel and stuck with red-wine. I tried to stay with the same thing, but the acidic taste wasn't really for me. After the second glass I switched to cider. Strong cider. While I laughed at our talk, he sat there quietly.

"I feel like such an idiot." I said. "I've been talking about me this whole time. Aren't you bored?"

"No. You've only been answering my questions." He smiled. My heart fluttered, although I told myself it was the alcohol. I smiled back at him.

"Now, it's my turn to ask the questions. I've noticed something in your voice. Where are you from?"

He took a sip of wine, holding the glass delicately in his hand.

"France." I must've pulled a face. "I know. Most people hardly have a good opinion of us." He laughed

"Actually I wasn't thinking that at all." I murmured, taking another drink.

We fell back into the room, laughing. Getting this drunk was an aspect I had never expected to come of university. Eyebrows had been raised, and I knew what everyone was thinking.

"You know...I never actually got your name." I said, sitting cross-legged on my bed. Unthinkingly, I began to get undressed, as I would if I were home.

"Hannibal. Hannibal Lector." He said. "And you...are Regan Matthews." He patted my arm reassuringly. I slapped him lightly on the arm. I knew he was getting at how completely pissed I was.

"You're not exactly sober yourself." As I said it, I realised how wrong I was. He should be rolling on the floor like I would, but he stood, tall, unwavering. He peeled his tan jacket of and placed it on a chair.

I looked away so I wouldn't see him undressing. It was too late for my dignity. I sat in my tartan pyjama bottoms with black laced pyjama top.

When I heard him move I decided it was safe to look. I didn't notice what he was wearing, just that his top was bare. He was walking over to the light, ready to turn it off. I took one last drunken look at the walls, and made a mental note to unpack and decorate tomorrow. Taking my final look at Hannibal, I fell asleep. It seemed only minutes later that the screaming started.

"Mischa!" he screamed, in a hollow voice that matched the convulsions of his face. Bleary-eyed I pulled back the covers and climbed out of my bed. I was sad to leave the cosiness I have eventually created, but anything to stop his screaming. I felt my way to him, until I found him. I grabbed on to one of his thrashing hands and held it tightly.

"Hannibal! Hannibal, it's ok. You're only dreaming, you're asleep. I'm here, and nothing is going to hurt you." I pressed his hands into my cheek, linking our fingers. Surprised by my own actions, I tried to convince myself I was still completely twatted. With a gasp he opened his eyes, wide. His deep breaths shuddered his chest, and his lip was bleeding where he had bitten into it. I shushed him gently, putting my hand on his cheek. Definitely still drunk.

"Mischa..." he whispered. I was slightly taken aback. When he ran his free hand over his forehead, I took it as a cue to let go of him.

"Are you OK?" I whispered, suddenly aware of the people in the rooms below, above and on either side of ours.

"Yes, I'm fine." He looked at me curiously. "Nobody has ever done that for me before." I was surprised by the sincerity in his eyes and his voice.

"Oh, y'know. Anything for a good nights' sleep." I tried to joke, but he saw right through me.

"Thank you." He whispered.

------

The morning came just too soon. I rubbed head and tried to adjust to the light that streaked across my pillow. When my sight eventually returned I instinctively turned my head to look at Hannibal. It made no sense to me that my heart sunk when I realised that his bed was made, his jacket was missing and his bags were carefully unpacked. Hopping out of bed, I landed lightly on the floor. Just as I began to wonder what time it was, my alarm clock rang loudly in my years.

"What the hell?!" I mumbled to myself as I slammed my hand down on the noisy bugger. Next to the clock (one of the few things I actually managed to unpack) lay a note.

I have to leave for a lecture but I didn't want to wake you.

You need to leave at around eight o'clock (I checked your

Planner, I hope you don't mind.

You'll probably be awake soon, but just in case I've set the alarm.

Hope to see you around campus sometime.

H. Lector

A quick glance at the clock told me he'd given me an hour to get ready. Grabbing a towel I dashed into the ensuite.

A/N: OK, I have no idea how university works, so I had to either guess or ask my clueless cousin :)

I loved the film Hannibal Rising, and after the first time I saw it, I had a dream about Hannibal falling in love with a girl in university. If I have a really good dream, I have to write it down otherwise it sticks with me.

This is just part one. The rest is surely coming.