by Dr.Peter Rating: PG Story: A tender moment in Hannibal Lecter's life. Tender drama. She holds him in her arms gently, yet with a grip that not even the strongest of men possess. She gazes down at him, nothing but love in her eyes as she strokes his soft, dark hair. She whispers to him in her native tongue as he coos like a dove. She hums to him as he laughs. She sings to him as he stares at her and smiles. She cradles her beloved in her arms and wishes it could always be like this. That time will stand still and somehow, magically, be frozen forever. She decides to add another room to her memory palace, a room that only the two of them can share so she can relive these hours over and over again. She calls him names. Silly names reserved only for those moments when there is almost nothing but silliness left, so much emotion has been felt. The kind of raw emotion that is so intense it practically hurts to feel it. The kind of love that is so pure, it almost stings. She gently pushes her nipple a bit further into his mouth. He knows instinctively what she wants him to do and he happily obliges. She holds it steady for him as he begins to bite down. She lets out a gasp, but feels no pain. These cherished moments are beyond comprehension. And how quickly they always seem to pass. She senses that he is near completion and caresses his cheek when he is finished. He is satisfied and she is glad. Nothing pleases her more. She wipes his mouth and brings him even closer to her than he already is. She wants to feel his heartbeat. He wants to feel hers. Their hearts beat as one in a steady rhythm as the angels look down and smile. She sings to him once again as his eyes begin to close. Much energy has been spent and he must rest before their next session. She understands this, and continues to hum a lilting melody, even after he has fallen asleep. Countess Lecter puts her son back into his cradle and tells the nanny not to wake him for the next feeding. That she will feed him on demand. That he will tell her when it is time. This is the way it has been done in her family for years, she explains, and the way it will remain. Her son Hannibal will know when it is time to feed again; when it is time to come quickly to her coral and cream. He will tell her when it is time to take the breast, even when it is offered gladly. And when it is time to relinquish the breast, he will know that too. Mother and Son understand each other. They are intense and passionate. They know what they want and how to get it. They are very much alike. Mother stares down at her son as her maroon eyes gaze at the sleeping lad who has just rolled onto his belly. They will share another sacred moment in only a few short hours. And when they do, there will be no impending wartime. There will be no future enemies at their gates. There will be no fear. There will be no tears. The newly planted garden will one day grow eggplant, Countess Lecter muses as she looks out the window before leaving her slumbering infant to his dreams. All is right with the world. Fin |
