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Lumen Obscura	By : PinkSiamese Category: -Misc TV Shows > Crossovers Views: 1077 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal or Dexter in any of their incarnations (TV shows, movies, books). I am making no money off this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
Lumen opens her eyes. Her lids are heavy, dry, and for a moment she is disoriented; the car isn’t moving, it’s too light, there’s no stiff salty wind rushing in through the windows.
“You fell asleep,” says Will.
She sits up. “I fell asleep?”
“Yes.” His hair sticks out all over, curls tangled into drifts. In the middle of turning his head, he stops. He watches her; the orange light dulls the color of his eyes. It deepens the furrows between his eyebrows. He presses his lips together.
She wipes a sticky patch of drool off the corner of her mouth. “I was asleep?”
Will nods. “Yeah, you were asleep. You…” He lets go of the wheel, sits back. He looks out the windshield, sighs. “Uh.” He glances at her. “You passed out pretty quickly, actually.”
“I’m surprised.” She sits up, feels around her feet. She makes a face. “I don’t usually…I don’t know.” She twists around in the seat. “Fall asleep in the car, I guess. It’s been awhile.”
“You don’t usually fall asleep around someone you don’t know.”
She hauls her purse out of the backseat, drops it into her lap. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
Lumen gathers her shoes up off the floor. “Maybe.”
“It’s okay.”
She opens the door. She unfastens her seatbelt, stands. “I’m sorry. I feel like it was kind of rude to fall asleep on you. I didn’t mean to.”
Will shrugs, grabs his blazer and a crinkly drugstore plastic bag out of the back. “I don’t think so. You said you were tired.” She shuts the door, rubs at his mouth. “Tired people fall asleep,” he mutters.
The pavement is warm and smooth beneath her feet. It’s a short way to the hotel’s side entrance. Lumen watches him open it with his key card. Big moths swoop and dive; they flutter against the glass. “What?”
“Nothing.” She walks up to him. “Nothing, I’m just…”
He turns his head. “Tired?”
She nods, glances at his eyes. “Yeah. Sometimes it takes a minute.”
“To wake up?” He holds the door open for her.
“Yeah.” She steps into the hallway, moves into the cold light. She shivers.
Will walks toward the elevator without a word. She watches him, follows; he smells warm and like the sea, a hint of mangroves, salty, her nose cannot separate him from the beach, from its slow tides.
He steps into the elevator. She goes in with him. The light is harsh. Underneath it, he looks worn to the bone. The doors slide shut. It starts with a discernible jerk, the sensation of her body being eased out of gravity’s reach. Lumen puts a hand on him and he twitches at her touch, he reminds her of a cat, the sensitivity to the slightest brush against the tips of its fur. He is warm through the thin shirt.
“I don’t like elevators,” she says.
Will takes her hand. He laces their fingers, keeps his eyes on the doors. “I’m not a fan.”
“It, like, messes with my vestibular system or something.” The elevator comes to an inelegant halt. The doors creak, slide open. “I’ll feel off-balance for at least five minutes. Like I’m bobbing up and down.”
“Are you allergic to cats?”
Lumen looks at him. “No…?”
The corner of his mouth tucks, curves his lips into a slightly mischievous grin. “That’s good.”
The brackets of his smile, their slow drift into dimples, brings heat into her face. “Why?”
Will stops. He shifts the blazer to one arm, slides the card into the lock. He keeps his eyes on the line between door and jamb, slides his gaze to the floor. “I have kittens.”
“What?” Her eyebrows go up and she laughs. “Kittens? Really?”
He nods. The door clicks open and he grips the knob, keeps the door closed. “I think they’re maybe eight weeks old? Ten? I don’t know, I’m not an authority on kittens.” He cracks the door. “Watch your feet. One of them likes to run for it.”
Lumen squats. “Go ahead.” She looks up, grins. “I’ll catch them.”
“Okay,” he says, “I found them at the beach, near a jetty. They’re either feral, community kittens, or someone dumped them out there.” He opens the door. “I hear claws on the carpet. I think you’ve got incoming.”
“How many are there?” Lumen hears a high-pitched meow. Stella wriggles through the gap in the door and Lumen catches her, gathers the little black body against her chest. “I’ve only got two hands.”
“Two.” He flips on the light. “Don’t worry, I see Esmeralda in my suitcase. She’s sleeping.” He goes in, tosses the blazer onto a nearby chair. “Stella’s the escape artist.” He toes off his shoes. “I should’ve named her something clichéd, like Houdini.”
Lumen walks in, closes the door. The room is unkempt, the bedcovers are thrown back, towels hang off the desk to dry. A suitcase scatters its contents across one corner of the floor. Will turns on one of the bedside lamps, turns off the overhead light. The drapes are all the way open, the curtains beneath pulled back. Parking lot light drifts into the room. It spreads up the white wall, draws thin shadows across the ceiling.
“I’m going to turn down the air conditioning,” he says.
Stella purrs against her breastbone, tiny paws kneading. Needle-claws break through the topmost layer of her skin. She lifts the kitten, kisses her head. “Okay.”
He goes to the window, opens the unit’s casing. He fiddles with it.
The hum lessens. She hears him breathing, hears Esmeralda digging through the clothes in the suitcase. Stella’s purring goes into her bones, travels up; it softens the falling silence. “Do you want me to stay?”
He starts to unbutton his shirt. “Yeah.” He watches her, loosens each button. “Do you want to?”
She nods, keeps her eyes on his face. “You have anything I can wear? I need to get out of this dress.” She smiles a little, cuts her eyes away. “God that sounds like such a line.” She blushes and puts the kitten down, runs a hand down her back. She shrugs. “Doesn’t it? Like ‘let’s you and me get out of these wet clothes.’ But it’s not comfortable to keep wearing it. I keep imagining the beads and the sequins coming off.”
“Yeah.” He takes off the shirt, tosses it to her. “I have shorts too, if you want those.”
She gathers the shirt up to her face, breathes through the cotton. He stops what he’s doing to watch her, he stands there, half in and half out of his pants.
Her breath quickens. She slides her shoulders out from beneath the straps of her dress. “Should I just get into bed?”
He swallows. His eyelids flutter as though he wants to close them. He nods. “Yeah.”
Lumen looks in his eyes. She skims the straps down over her arms and gooseflesh prickles up the back of her neck, makes her nipples ache. The gown’s layers of silk gather into themselves; they slide past her hips, succumb to the floor in tumbling folds. His lips part. She slips her thumbs beneath the thin sides of her panties. His lids drift to half-mast; the rise and fall of his chest grows more pronounced, his mouth reddens, his skin is so pale that she can see the blood rising, a thin pink that crests his cheekbones before blooming like roses. Her face fills with heat. Her breath comes faster.
Will’s eyes, dilated and luminous, flick back and forth between her hands and her face. He licks his lips, melts his voice down to a murmur. “Take them off.”
“You want to watch me?”
He nods. His eyes have darkened, the shadows of the room settled atop restless blue. He breathes through his mouth. He half-whispers. “Yes.”
Lumen tugs them down her thighs, bends to guide the clinging fabric past her knees. Her hair falls down over her shoulders, tickles, it makes her shiver as it swings against her face.
“Come here.”
She steps over the pool of her dress. She wades through shadow, circles the bed, follows warm yellow light filtered through a white shade.
He throws heat off like he’s been holding onto it all day, like he’s been collecting the sun. He kisses her jaw, follows its line to the side of her neck; he does it slow, his lips are soft, humid, they land like petals shaken loose by the harshness of his breath. Her hands ascend his back, spread open on his shoulder blades. She grabs a handful of his hair.
“Will,” she sighs, his mouth an ember pressed into her feverish pulse, “Will Graham, you’re Will,” she pants, her throat arched, her eyes closed, “God I have to keep telling myself this is really happening.” His teeth scrape and every hair on her skin tingles to attention. “I have to keep telling myself this isn’t a dream.”
He cups her face. “If it is,” he murmurs, his lips on hers, “we’re dreaming it together.”
She closes her eyes, puts her hands on his jaw; she moves the heels of her hands up over rough patches of stubble. He lifts her mouth to his, he is tentative, light, at first it is a brushing of breath and then his lips press into hers. Her mouth opens. His tongue touches her bottom lip and she breathes hard, shudders, her body trembles at the way his mouth fits with hers, at his softness, his heat. He floods her skin with his hands, her mouth with his tongue. It is a slow descent into a lightheaded sea.
His mouth tastes like an autumn forest, the light sharp tang of marigolds lives on his tongue; his breath is like sunlight on black earth, it fills her lungs like the wind off the sea.
He breaks away and she opens her eyes. Looks around. He takes his mouth down the front of her body and the places he touches with it are abandoned to her rising breath: her throat, the dip between her collarbones, the flat between her breasts. Her fingers tremble, curl into his hair. Anointed with a trace of wetness, the air chills them, stokes the skin into goosebumps. Her toes curl. His tongue lays claim, arouses her body into sweet, timorous destruction.
“God.” The word trembles in her throat.
He closes his mouth on her nipple.
“That’s so good,” she gasps.
“Get on the bed.”
Lumen opens her eyes. The room moves, tilts, the walls have been cast adrift on the wild current of her blood, the bed is made of shadows and rumpled light. Her body loosens with the heat. She climbs the edge of the bed and collapses, breathes hard, she’s dizzy with too much oxygen, worn thin.
With his hands tight around her hips, he pulls her across the rumpled sheets. He dips his head, licks up the sweat beneath her navel.
Lumen looks down. His face is flushed, the red stands out against his creamy skin, his hair is damp at the roots. His breath comes quick and hard. He looks up at her, slides his nose into the crease of her inner thigh. He watches her face, closes his teeth on a tendon. He bites down. Her spine jolts and she moans, writhes into the sharpness of his teeth. The quivering pain shoots a tight hard throb into her cunt.
“Shhh.” He spreads her open, runs his tongue up to the hard slippery knot of her clit. “Oh yeah, that’s nice.”
She grabs his hair, lifts her hips up into his mouth. Her breath flutters, too, rapid-fire, in her throat.
“Mmmmmm,” he whispers, licks her clit. “You’re sweet…like flowers and sugar left out in the rain.”
“Will!” The hot languor of her pleasure sharpens into a blade against his tongue. “Oh…God…God!”
“Yes.” He reaches up, takes her breasts in his hands. He rolls the nipples. Her clit throbs between his lips. “Yes,” he sighs.
The heat of it rushes in on her, fills her to the brim. Her body twitches, delicate spasms that descend into her legs. Her hips snap and she bares her teeth; her orgasm concusses to life, a tremendous thing that blanks her mind and drowns her flesh, the intensity of her pleasure comes in quick hard bursts. Her lungs lock up her breath, hold it. It struggles in her chest.
He climbs over her. She softens into shudders, her hands curled tight into themselves. Her moan breaks up through her ribs, it fills the room; it floods her mouth, spills down her skin, mingles with the sweat rising and falling with her belly. Will watches her come back, watches the life rise out of the dark and into her face. It blooms in her eyes. The corners of his mouth soften; his lips are pink, rimmed in a high gloss. Will pulls her onto his cock. She closes her eyes, arches her back.
The tip of his nose touches the tip of hers. “Is this all right?”
Lumen smells the spice in his breath, a faint smoky musk trapped in the roots of his hair. “Yes.”
“If you want me to stop,” he whispers, “I’ll stop.”
“No.” Her mouth opens. Her chin trembles. “Don’t stop.”
Will props himself up on his hands and begins to thrust; he leans over her, looks down into her face.
“It’s okay.” She slides a hand up the back of his neck. She brings her lips close to his skin. “Do it harder.”
He breathes hard, slams into her. His eyes close.
Lumen looks at his face. Her cunt tightens; she watches the lines around his mouth deepen, the creases in his brows are like something out of nature. They become a land feature, topography worn by long years of unknown weather. Lines surface around his eyes, thin, they are like roads coming to life on a map, secret roads, narrow paths that lead into deep woods, shadows, wastelands.
Will’s face, its softness, its nakedness, its regions of buried blades, it is dangerous territory.
Swathed in a fog of her lust, the hard-edged blade of her need cuts deep, it flays her. His face lays her open. She looks at his wet and trembling lashes, his thin skin, the weak shadows beneath and she yearns from deep within a broken-open place. It is a space between her body and her mind, a lost room clothed in tangles and drifts of forgotten emotion. She holds onto him; the tightness comes into her flesh, the warning, that faint flutter deep in her muscles that signals her impending rush.
His breath backs up. He strains, there’s sweat dripping down his forehead, the buried column in his throat works for air. His mouth opens. His lips fall away from each other and hollows flood his cheekbones, his arroyos and floodplains deepen. His forehead trembles. His eyebrows break into glorious wings and his eyes fly open, the weight of his gaze a punch to her gut. She curls fingers into his hair, disoriented; the wild pleasure mounts, the gleaming edge of a fresh orgasm lifts her up, flings her through. She screams, holds on to him; she finds herself in his eyes, thrashed about, her body buffeted as her mind gets lost in the blue, a sky, a sea. There are stars in his breath; his long strangled moan pours out of him and floods her face, drenched with a radiance of galaxies. His unstrung voice becomes a hymn.
Will pushes himself off her, turns on his back. He drapes an arm over his eyes. He catches his breath.
The tension ebbs out of her. The thrum of her blood dissipates. Lumen closes her eyes. Her own breathing, from inside her head, seems very loud. Sweat dries onto her skin. She turns onto one side; her back is hot, the skin over her spine scorching.
She listens to the whisper-scratch of kittens playing on the floor.
Will touches her back. He rubs her shoulder blades. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” She turns. “I’ll all right.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “I’m just hot.”
He rests his head on his bent arm. He smiles a little. “I have iced tea.”
Lumen smiles back. “What kind?”
He wipes the sweat off his upper lip. “I think it’s raspberry. It’s, uh…of course it’s warm, but if you want I could get ice.”
She grins. “You could get ice.”
“I could, yeah.” Will’s smile hesitates, then widens. “Imagine that.”
Lumen starts to giggle.
He watches her. The corners of his mouth twitch. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying not to.” She turns her face toward the bed, covers her mouth with her knuckles. “I get points for that, you know.”
He gets up, pulls on his boxers. “If you say so.”
Lumen smothers a chuckle. She sits up, still smiling, and looks around. She pulls the rumpled bedcovers into her lap.
Will empties his pants pockets. He tosses the key card onto the nightstand, checks his phone. “Well.” He pauses, flicks a finger across the screen. “Okay. This is…interesting.”
Her smile wilts. “What?”
He lifts his eyebrows. “I have a lot of messages.”
“Is that unusual for you?”
“Yes and no.” The screen light is harsh on the side of his face. “I’m quite accomplished at ignoring my phone.”
“What’s going on?” Lumen studies his face. “It looks bad.”
“It is.” He sighs. “It seems that about an hour ago, a couple in a yacht off Lower Matecumbe reported suspicious activity on Anne’s Beach.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment and pinches his temples. “It seems that that prior to filing a report, they argued back and forth for at least an hour or so about whether or not to get the cops involved.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “But they did. Lucky for me.”
“They found something.”
Will nods, rubs his face. “Yeah.”
“Is it another girl?” Lumen doesn’t move. “Or girls?”
He looks at her. “I shouldn’t tell you that.”
Lumen gathers the covers up to her breasts, folds her arms. “Are you going to tell me anyway?”
“I probably don’t have to.” He gives her a slight smile. “You’re a smart woman, after all. You can figure it out.”
She nods. “You have to go.”
Will nods. “Yeah.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry, believe me I don’t want to.” He looks at her face. “I would much rather stay here with you.” He flashes a brief, worn, raw little smile. “I would much rather be asleep.”
She hooks hair behind one ear. “But you have to work.”
He tosses the phone onto the bed. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Lumen takes in a deep breath, sighs. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Stay.” He looks away. “If you want to.” He pulls on his pants. “If you don’t…” He shrugs. “That’s okay, too.”
“Um.”
Will stands, searches for his shirt.
She follows his movement with her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He pulls a t-shirt out of his suitcase. He glances at her. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll understand.”
“Okay.” She lies down, pulls a pillow beneath her cheek. She stretches her legs. “I’m so tired.”
“Me too.”
Lumen watches him pull the red plaid seersucker shirt on over the worn gray cotton. He leaves it unbuttoned.
“It’s a long drive from here to Matecumbe,” she says. “Be careful.”
- 19
- 20
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Lumen Obscura