Kitsunegari
Kabochon
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Summary: Paul Krendler ruminates aloud on his fateful jog to Mason Verger's helicopter.
Timeline: Just prior to chapter 100 in Hannibal.
Rating: NC-17
Copy: Part 1 of 1
Author's Note: This takes place during Horserider91271's "Heat of the Midnight Sun," at the end of the main story body. Dedicated to Glimmerdark, who really wanted to know.
Please keep in mind that Paul is talking to himself OUT LOUD while he jogs.
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~Earlier~
The doors opened and Paul Krendler stepped in beside Clarice Starling.
"Starling," he said curtly, "I was just coming to talk to you."
"About what, Mr. Krendler?" She didn't look at him but knew he was looking at her, at her neck.
"Status of the search for Lecter."
"Well, I'm cross-checking receipts and reports of sales of those things he likes. I thought I'd gone over that with you, sir." It was hard keeping disdain out of her tone.
"What did I tell you? I wanted knowledge of everything you've been doing. Everything." His eyes had not left her neck. She blinked slowly, exhaling through her teeth. His voice grew quiet. "What's that on your neck? Burn yourself with the curling iron?"
Only a idiot moron like Paul Krendler would mistake a very obvious hickey for a curling iron burn. She briskly shook her head. "No."
"Well, what is that, then?" He leaned closer and she moved away. "Nothing, sir."
Krendler pushed the STOP button and faced her. "I asked you a question, Agent Starling. I demand an answer. What is that on your neck?"
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Fuck it. Go for the throat. "A hickey."
He laughed, abrasive and rudely. "What?"
"A hickey. Obviously, you've never given one or received one to not have known what it is."
He straightened quickly. "Watch your tone, Starling." A pause. "Who gave it to ya?"
She shook her head. "Mind your own business."
"Don't tell me you gave up that country cornpone pussy to some needledick office boy!"
She eyed him then, glint in her gaze. "All right then sir. I won't." And she turned away, reaching to start the elevator again. He grew enraged, slapping at her hand. "Who did it?"
"You told me not to tell you, sir." She faced the doors, cooling herself past the point of aloofness.
"Who did it, Starling! Who put that on your neck???"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Tell me," he threatened. The actual sight of it...whoever it was was serious about marking her. He groaned, wishing it'd been himself. Clarice was an intangible fantasy, one he entertained with his hand early every morning.
She mashed the elevator button. "If you really want to know, Mr. Krendler, then you'll just have to deal with the fact that I won't tell you who my lover is. I will say he's courteous and magnificent and he makes me come just by looking at me." The elevator stopped at her floor and she stepped out, turning to glare at him. "Shame you'll never get close enough to find out." And the doors closed.
~Later~
"I really hate that bitch.
"I really really hate that bitch.
"Who the fuck do she think she is, anyway? Like her pussy's gold or something? I've seen better ass on a mule.
"Okay, so maybe I haven't. Okay, maybe I am getting over seeing her in the elevator with that large ass hickey on her neck. Fuck it, the thing was so big I was tempted to touch it to see if it was bleeding. What kind of slut comes to work showing off a hickey like that? Ah shit, I really hate that bitch.
"What makes me hate her so? I guess I could tell myself the truth. I called her up one time, drunk off my ass, but she'd been on my mind for a long time. She's got a great set of legs...look like they go all the way to her fucking neck. And I'm a leg man, don't let the smiley face fool you. If a bitch's got a great set of legs, she's got my attention. Anyway, I wanted to see Starling on the side, you know. Secret secret. I am a married man after all, but shit, I haven't been faithful in years. And Starling's lithe, leggy and brunette, just the way I like them. And she's a hard-ass, which is the biggest turn on for me. I admit to having the hots for her even back when she caught that sick fuck Jame Gumb before me. She was a young thing and I wanted her even then.
"When she told me to drag my ass back to Marlee, my wife, it was like a kick in the head. I was so fucked up that it took a minute to realize that country tramp pussy bitch turned me down. I've fucked so many wannabe agents like her I've lost count. All I had to do was promise them a leg up when they graduated and a leg up was what they got, on my desk with my dick in them. Line 'em up, knock 'em down, that's the credo I live by. And most of those tramps wanted to fuck their way up the ladder anyway, so why should I lower myself by helping them?
"But Starling had the balls to tell me no! Even now it burns me. I so want to get in her that it wakes me up every fucking morning and I'm reduced to beating my meat and panting her name low enough so Marlee won't hear me. Shit, even now my dick's getting hard thinking about that cornpone cunt. I bet her pussy is tight too, tighter than a virgin asshole...gotdammit!!! That's not helping me here, now my dick's all hard and my balls are banging painfully against my thighs. I might need to stop and handle it while I think about ass-fucking Starling. Now, there's a thought!
"Damn. Starling. I want those racehorse legs wrapped around my back, those nails digging chasms into me as I jackhammer the shit out of her, making that bitch scream my fucking name. Not the name of the dickhead boy toy who gave her that fucking hickey. I bet he's a wet-behind-the-ears needledick two-minute jerkoff rat bastard who probably ate her pussy first.
"Shit. Why'd I have to say that? I have never eaten a slit in my life and I certainly wouldn't stick my face in that cunt's cunt. All fishy and pissy and...man I bet she'll scream like a banshee if I hit that clit right!!
"I am going to fuck her. I am going to fuck Clarice Starling. I'm going to fuck her hard. With my position and then with my dick. Ass then pussy and then I think I'll make her suck it, ram it down her throat---is that ether I smell???"
Fin
Copyright 2001, Kabochon