Hannibal walked slowly, carefully up the stairs to the doorway of Dr. Du Maurier's house with the dinner he had promised her. The "veal", as he would call it, was of the highest quality, for he would settle for no less. The meat was butchered less than a day ago, packed away neatly in his refrigerator, wonderfully and ironically not too far from where Abigail Hobbs, his alleged calf, had once stood. Farmers often tag their herd on the ear, but that seemed a little pointless and unnecessarily decorative. The ear of this cow rested nicely in Will Graham's stomach for a few hours before he deliciously woke up choking on it.

Contrary to his pervasive inner desires, Hannibal stayed cool and collected, and remained quiet unless something needed to be said or done. In this case, it was both. And it was to a person behind the doors he was in front of.

A brisk draft curled over the glass dome that topped his dinner, and he rapped his knuckles three times on Bedelia's door. She looked up from the book she was reading, blonde hair cascading in spirals down her shoulder and rotating ever so slightly as she stood, as if the strands hung in a carefully sculpted mobile. She walked with attempted silence that perfectly equaled that of Hannibal's, pulling the door open a few inches, just enough to see his face, offering a smile that tugged at only one corner of her slightly pursed lips, waiting for him to respond, and then opening the door the rest of the way.

"Doctor," Hannibal cordially offered, as a salute to the collegial bond she had earlier implied.
"Doctor," she repeated, turning her back to him and walking back toward the table. Hannibal's hunger turned from one of food to one of body as her hips swayed in front of him. As always, he masked this shift well. After he pulled out her chair, she sat, Hannibal uncovering the meal on the table and delicately laying a slice on each plate, followed with a shallow glass of wine, from his own reserves, of course.

Bedelia's knife glided through the meat like butter, the grain separating effortlessly. As she raised the first morsel to her mouth, Hannibal watched her eyes carefully, expecting her expert taste to detect the source of the meat. As he was hoping, they flashed with surprise, then bliss. She slowly blinked, then chewed and swallowed. He smirked. She knows.

"Hannibal, this is delectable. What kind of meat is it?" Pretending not to know was one of Bedelia's favorite hobbies.

"Veal. Top of the line."
"Veal, of course. How controversial."
"There are meats more controversial than that, if you're interested."
"It would seem that I am."
"That you are." He looked down at his plate, basking in the pride of his choice of meat. Abigail was so very tender and savory. He thought it was peculiar, on the basis that they were merely colleagues, that she had yet to report or explicitly bring up that she knew Hannibal was slaughtering and eating humans. A very dear friend, or perhaps a hidden strange fetish for madness, perhaps, would keep that information hidden. Folie à deux. What a delicious madness to be shared between them.

They ate mostly in silence, Hannibal speaking up a couple times to compliment her home or her to share another subtle acknowledgement. It was driving him mad, all the best kinds of mad, to watch her so deeply enjoy something, swallowing, staring at him dead in the eye, pupils widening in pleasure. Every once in a while she would almost hum, a quiet mmm, as she tasted what he had prepared. Hannibal was not sure how long he could keep himself still. He had to be careful, as she was only planning on having dinner tonight, as colleagues, of course. He had much different final intentions.

While he ate, he had to consciously keep his hips from rolling forward in his chair, imagining leaping across the table and ravenously taking her throat in his mouth, harshly but not too harshly. He wanted to make sure she knew he was not biting to kill, just to arouse. He knew he couldn't attack her, either, because she had been attacked by a patient before. But Hannibal had nearly perfected the art of changing the association of memory from negative to positive, with the aid of psilocybin mushrooms that he had conveniently added to tonight's wine. She hadn't finished hers, which may have proved to have been a problem had he not raised his glass to his lips himself, an action that she followed.

As she finished drinking, he stood and walked around the table to pull out her chair for her. Once she stood, thanking him, he responded a 'you're welcome' by wrapping his arms around her waist and nipping at the flesh just under her ear. Bedelia gasped, half in fright and half in pleasure, jerking away from him while shouting,

"What are you doing?!" only to be interrupted by his large, strong hands gripping her hips and pulling them back into his. Her head rolled back onto his shoulder and her mouth opened in a silent gasp as he gyrated behind her, breathing down her neck. At this point she had stopped resisting, acknowledging her desires for him, professionalism be damned. "I… please…"
"Please what?"
"Take me," she said breathily, a hint of regret lacing her words, but not enough to stop them. Hannibal smiled and hid a chuckle as he said,
"As a patient or as a friend?"
"I don't think either of those quite qualify, do they?"
"So you won't be charging by the hour this time, then?"
"That would hardly be legal, would it?"
"Very true. I appreciate your waiving of the cost." He moved away from behind her to in front of her, head dipping down to more level their gazes before quickly grabbing the sides of her face between his hands, crashing their lips together. She responded uncharacteristically hungrily, tongue swirling around his own. Hannibal began walking forward, her following his lead, until they were about a foot from the living room wall, at which point he slammed her into it, making her moan as he moved his hands from her face to her hips, dragging his nails along the length of her thighs as he lowered her skirt.

"Hannibal, please." Bedelia's face was flushed; her knees were shaking. He was planning on teasing her as long as he could, but her begging made it impossible for him to wait, a boiling warmth building in his groin. He undressed and moaned himself as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, pulling him closer. Pushing her up the wall, in one swift, fluid motion, with no warning, buried himself completely inside her. She let out a cross between a scream and a gasp at his merciless thrust, completely unprepared. Her hips bucked forward, fingers raking down his muscular back. The scream drove him crazy. Hannibal set a rapid pace, his hipbones clashing against hers, hoping to leave swollen bruises the next day. He wanted nothing more than to leave his mark. Bedelia had given up letting anything leave her mouth but breathy gasps as Hannibal rammed her into the wall, her head swimming in ecstasy. He licked up her collarbone from her shoulder to her neck, slowly sucking and then biting on the skin there, dangerously close to her jugular vein. She sharply inhaled as the skin on her neck broke, the flavor of iron trickling down Hannibal's throat.

"I'm… so… close…" she gasped, eyes widening as he teasingly slowed down and pulled out. She whimpered and he removed his mouth from her neck to look in her eyes, which were wild with need for release. He reached one hand down to let a cold finger circle her clit as he continued. Her hips rolled down to meet his thrusts only a few times before abruptly stopping and crying out, Hannibal smirking as he helped her ride out her orgasm, then shoving her from the wall to the ground to finish on her chest. He then collapsed next to her, both of them gasping, faces red, hair tousled from rough play, and between breaths, Bedelia said "thanks for the meal."

"My pleasure, Doctor."