Title: She Had Something Savage Coursing Under Her Skin
Author:
redbrunja
Rating: PG-13
Warning: implied cannibalism.
Characters: Abigail, Hannibal.
Author's Note: written for
bellonablack.
Summary: Boys looked like prey to Abigail.
Her first semester at college, she took Early American History and there was a boy who sat behind her every class for three weeks straight.
"I'm Ethan," he introduced himself the first day, hanging over the back of the seat next to her.
"Abigail," she responded before turning back to face the teacher.
"You're really pretty," he said the next class, so close she could tell he used Axe body wash.
"Thanks," Abigail responded, scotting to the edge of her seat.
Then:
"You smell nice," he whispered another time, breath hot on her ear.
"My perfume is new," she'd said, remembering the cool kiss of the glass stopper as Hannibal had dragged it across her wrists, the reverent expression as he'd inhaled just above her hands. She smiled without meaning to, and Ethan shifted closer, toyed with the edge of her scarf. She tugged it out of his hands.
Then:
He spent the entire class period trying to pull of her scarf when the teacher wasn't looking.
Then:
"I dig the knee socks.... are you wearing any underwear under that skirt?"
Then:
"Good evening, Abigail," Hannibal said. She pressed her phone closer to her ear, memorizing the way he crisply articulated the words over the line, the way his accent clung to the syllables. "How are you finding university?"
"It's going well, mostly," she responded. "I was wondering– are you busy this weekend? There is someone I'd like to bring home for dinner."
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: implied cannibalism.
Characters: Abigail, Hannibal.
Author's Note: written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Summary: Boys looked like prey to Abigail.
Her first semester at college, she took Early American History and there was a boy who sat behind her every class for three weeks straight.
"I'm Ethan," he introduced himself the first day, hanging over the back of the seat next to her.
"Abigail," she responded before turning back to face the teacher.
"You're really pretty," he said the next class, so close she could tell he used Axe body wash.
"Thanks," Abigail responded, scotting to the edge of her seat.
Then:
"You smell nice," he whispered another time, breath hot on her ear.
"My perfume is new," she'd said, remembering the cool kiss of the glass stopper as Hannibal had dragged it across her wrists, the reverent expression as he'd inhaled just above her hands. She smiled without meaning to, and Ethan shifted closer, toyed with the edge of her scarf. She tugged it out of his hands.
Then:
He spent the entire class period trying to pull of her scarf when the teacher wasn't looking.
Then:
"I dig the knee socks.... are you wearing any underwear under that skirt?"
Then:
"Good evening, Abigail," Hannibal said. She pressed her phone closer to her ear, memorizing the way he crisply articulated the words over the line, the way his accent clung to the syllables. "How are you finding university?"
"It's going well, mostly," she responded. "I was wondering– are you busy this weekend? There is someone I'd like to bring home for dinner."
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And all this very casual and fatherly concern. I can imagine the look. Seriously I appreciate that you took Abigail here. This is how I see her. Thank you for writing this for me.:)
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