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There was something different about Annabelle’s office in the evening, after the daylight had melted, giving way to a flickering orange fireplace and a strange, heavy weight to the air. If Willa didn’t know any better, she’d say she was imagining it.
But no, this was all too real, and as was the woman sitting across from her, examining Willa with meticulous care. Doctor Lecter, after reassuring Willa extensively that she had no more appointments scheduled, invited her to stay overtime and talk. Although
talk
could mean anything from childhoods, to serial killers and favorite places to eat. So Willa found herself at a loss for what to say, hovering in uncomfortable silence that she hoped Annabelle would break.
“So, Willa. Do you have any questions for me?”
All too many.
“What do I smell like?” The question was joking, but Willa was more serious than she’d ever like to admit. Annabelle paused at that, considering. She shifted in her armchair, leaning in slightly. After a moment passed in thought, she answered. For a single delirious second, Willa thought she was about to hear a comment about her
‘atrocious body wash.’
But no such critique came.
“Heat,” Annabelle smiled, like she had a secret that nobody in the world knew. Knowing her, that was more than likely. “And fevered sweetness.” A small spark of cold, like a shard of precious ice, landed on the back of Willa’s neck, traveling down her spine. Despite the warmth of the fireplace burning in the office, she shivered. Suddenly, she felt caged in, despite the large windows and spacious room. The urge to get up and walk around returned, but she pushed it down, not willing to show weakness.
“You’re an enigma, doctor,” Willa chuckled, running her fingertips over the leather of her seat. Wasn’t their Crawford-ordered-therapy supposed to be done with by now? Annabelle tipped her head in recognition, the normally blank face she used around others melting away to reveal features that looked almost human, almost
kind.
“It is satisfying to know that I have the talent needed to keep even the most gifted profiler in the F.B.I. in mystery. But I suspect you know more than you let on, Willa.” Annabelle fixed her with a piercing stare.
I know you’re still keeping secrets. I know that Georgia didn’t kill Dr. Sutcliffe. I know there’s something wrong with me, something in my brain.
“I don’t know enough,” was all she said. “But I suppose that’s because you’re supposed to be treating
me.
” And doing a terrible job at that. Out of the corner of her eye, Willa thought she saw stag horns. But as soon as she turned to look, they vanished. This was
not
the right time for a hallucination, not when Annabelle was finally speaking openly. Or as open as she would get.
“Would you like to know more?” Annabelle’s voice drew Willa’s attention back to her, as demanding as it was gentle. Too good to be true. Willa knew there was an ulterior motive behind the offering, a viper coiled around an olive branch.
“Is that allowed?” Jack would disapprove. Alan would disapprove. Every person who had ever seen Willa and Annabelle in the same room together would disapprove. Willa wasn’t stupid; she heard the whispers.
Too close, blurring boundaries, unorthodox.
But everyone trusted Annabelle and her judgment, more than they would ever trust Willa. And if Annabelle said that therapy was helping, then Willa would go to therapy.
Annabelle’s eyes sparkled, as if she had read Willa’s mind. “I am generally more indulgent to you than to anyone else. And if you ask for more information, it would be hardly proper for me to refuse.”
But what did that
mean?
It was difficult, almost impossible, to concentrate with Annabelle’s staring at her so intensely, like she wanted to pry apart Willa’s head and see what she was thinking. Willa didn’t like how easy it was for her to get lost in Annabelle, enthralled by the comfort of the office fireplace and the twisting conversation that never seemed to end. And she feared if she stayed a moment longer, if she heard when Annabelle was willing to say, she would never find her way back to normalcy.
“As much as I would love to hear about all of your surgical exploits,” Willa gestured vaguely to the window, which showed a twilight Baltimore winter. “It’s getting late. It might be better for me to go.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay? I would be more than happy to drive you home.” Annabelle’s expression was different now, like she had cast her lure and was now attempting to hook her prey. But Willa was all too used to fishing, and she wasn’t going to fall for any tricks. No matter how good Annabelle looked when she offered her time so quickly.
“I—”
What harm would another hour make?
Professionalism be damned.
“Stay here,” Annabelle said, rising from the settee in one fluid movement. “I will fix you a drink.” Her voice left no room for argument, and Willa wasn’t exactly going to protest. She settled into the armchair further, running a hand through her hair. Turning her head to look at the clock and frowning at a framed watercolor painting, she saw that it was much later than she originally thought.
Alan would be worried. He’d been so worried recently about Willa, but mercifully, did not bring up the incident with the chimney. Willa had tried to talk to him about Annabelle, how she very conveniently brushed away Willa’s anxieties and hallucinations as nothing major, smiling disarmingly at anyone who raised an eyebrow. How Annabelle had begun to sneak Gail out of his hospital room, trying to become a replacement parent to make up for his mother.
So many little things were wrong, yet Willa couldn’t quite piece them all together. And then there was still the matter of the Ripper, the murders halted for now, but the killer still out there.
“Here.” A warm glass of pale golden liquid was pressed into Willa’s hands, no regard for personal space, as always. “Krupnikas, ninety-percent proof vodka flavored with clove honey and seasoned with vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, caraway seeds and saffron. Legend goes that it was invented by Benedictine monks in the fifteenth century.” Annabelle’s accent was crisp as she announced the drink in the same way she announced her ornate dishes. Willa suspected the pride in her cuisine would also be extended to pride in her liqueur.
“I think that this is a violation of our doctor-patient relationship,” Willa said dryly, taking a saccharine sip and watching Annabelle retreat back to her previous spot on the armchair. The entire office looked much better in the dim evening light than it did during their therapy sessions. Then, Willa was caged in, put under scrutiny as she tried to explain that her empathy was literally driving her insane. But now, with the amber light of the fireplace making Annabelle seem almost human, Willa felt like she had a modicum of control.
“On the contrary, Willa, I believe that this is only another way to treat you,” Annabelle fired back, hiding the quirk of her lips behind the glass. Willa resisted the urge to say anything, instead settling for raising her eyebrow.
I don’t think drinks and friendly conversation is the right way to treat your crazy patient, doc.
“This is good,” she said, gesturing to the liqueur. It wasn’t a lie; the sharp bite of vodka was mellowed with warm honey and spice, sweet on her tongue. Annabelle smiled approvingly, always a sucker for praise. Despite how much she liked to joke about getting psychoanalyzed every second of every day, Willa wasn’t completely clueless. Neither of them spoke, knowing better than to fill the silence with dull conversation. Willa’s eyes slid, once again, to the large painting on her right.
“William Blake’s: The Temptation and Fall of Eve.” Annabelle followed Willa’s gaze. “You don’t like it?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, but rather that she couldn’t force herself to look away. Eve’s body seemed to glow, not because of the forbidden tree branches hanging low around her, but because light seemed to flow around her skin, which was painted to look like an angular, stony figure. The serpent was twined around her, and Eve leaned into the embrace, taking the fruit from the mouth of the devil. Quite literally eating its words.
And Adam was turned away, oblivious to the catastrophic seduction occurring before him, unaware of the beautiful apocalypse in Eve and the snake.
“Too pretentious for my tastes,” Willa lied, taking another sip. As much as she wished for the conversation to be over, Annabelle wasn’t willing to let the subject drop.
“Oftentimes, art mirrors reality and the things we divert our minds from are the truest.” Annabelle tilted her head, and Willa’s mouth dried up suddenly as she shivered.
Willa’s eyes narrowed, her body tensing. “What are you trying to say, doctor?”
“No need to be so defensive. I merely thought you would appreciate the chance to discuss something with me.”
Alright. Two could play this game.
“The painting focuses on Eve, simultaneously giving her more agency and more blame.” Willa scrambled for something to say, licking the honeyed vodka off her lips. The glass was almost three-quarters empty. “The closeness between Eve and the Serpent is almost a taunt to Adam, to God, to the way she was created. It’s…” Willa trailed off, her throat closing up. Thankfully, Annabelle finished the sentence for her.
“The legend has always been, at its core, a story of seduction.” Annabelle set her own glass on the small table beside her. “Adam and Eve versus Eve and the Devil. See the eroticism in the way Blake painted the pair, with the focus falling on their embrace instead of on Adam? Instead of the purity of Eden and Heaven, the painting shows the beauty in atrocity, the irresistible attraction to sin. It is what sets Blake apart from other painters of his time.”
“A focus on the lack of morality instead of the presence of it.” Willa’s fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the armrests, a coil of nervousness swirling in her stomach like a venomous viper ready to strike through layers of muscle and bone.
“Not unlike your own life, Willa.” To her credit, Willa didn’t react to the comment, keeping her focus steadily on the library bookshelves behind Annabelle. She forced a chuckle, but it sounded fake even to her ears. Searching for a proper response, she swallowed down another sip of her drink.
“I’m afraid there is no creature of Hell trying to attract my attention.”
Annabelle’s lips curved into a smirk. “No?”
“My life is no Garden of Eden, and I would’ve noticed a snake slithering towards me by now.”
Annabelle paused, considering the words. When she responded, her accent was as sharp as ever, but something different had manifested in her voice. Her intensity was jarring.
“Satan takes whatever form would be the most pleasing. John Milton saw them as bearing unearthly beauty, as to intoxicate people into Hell. William Blake saw them as a disturbing yet entrancing creature, alluring despite the appearance. Many artists even interpreted Lucifer as being female, seducing Eve with the promise of sexual freedom and independence.”
Willa took a deep breath, a steady warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace or the alcohol burning its way beneath her skin. Almost uncontrollably, her eyes found their way back to Annabelle’s. And reflected in them was
hunger.
“For a woman so adamantly against religion, you’re awfully interested in it. What’s to be said about that?” So quickly that Willa’s heart leaped up and lodged in her throat, Annabelle stood from her chair, regarding Willa with eyes that seemed to glow in the fire’s light.
“Perhaps it is not religion that catches my attention, but rather the parallels within it.” A pause, a long moment in which neither of them moved, not willing to break their minds apart. And then, Annabelle took a step closer to where Willa was still seated. Any closer and she’d be standing between Willa’s legs. “Tell me, Willa, do you see yourself as Eve?”
“Would that make you the Serpent, Doctor Lecter?”
Annabelle smiled, stepping forward so that Willa had to move her knees apart in order to make room for her. She leaned down, breath fanning across Willa’s cheek. “If you want me to be.”
In that moment, Willa felt absolutely
pierced
with want, speared through and gutted with need; such powerful longing that it took her breath away. The desire crept up on her quickly, flowing directly through her bloodstream and waking up every nerve in her body. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, only hoping that the
yes
in her eyes was obvious.
Annabelle’s hand brushed Willa’s as she expertly took the unfinished Krupnikas and set it on the adjacent table. Willa’s chin was grasped, Annabelle’s index finger framing her jaw while the rest of her fingers rested against her throat. Her thumb swiped over Willa’s bottom lip, pushing it out of place. For a single terrible second, Willa thought Annabelle would do nothing else but stare at her like
that,
like she wanted to
consume
her.
But then, right as Willa, unable to stand the tension any longer, closed her eyes, she felt saccharine lips against her own. Unlike her fingers, which were cold despite the fireplace, Annabelle’s mouth was hot, wonderfully so. At first, the kiss was slow, a chaste press. Dimly, Willa realized it was the first time she had kissed another woman, not counting the roommate she had messed around with in police academy.
Willa made a small, demanding sound in the back of her throat, finally finding her wits long enough to pull Annabelle closer by the collar of her pristine blouse. Then, the stillness was shattered, the dam of restraint broken, and they crashed into each other like a tidal wave beating against a cliff. It was the most heavenly sin, Annabelle’s soft, plush lips sliding against hers readily, moving increasingly faster, miniature bursts of white exploding in her brain every time their tongues brushed together.
Annabelle’s hand released Willa’s chin, only to find its way to the back of her head and bury her fingers loosely in her dark curls. Willa only tugged on Annabelle’s clothes harder, arching off the chair if only to feel their bodies pressing together. She was insatiable and desperate, as if Annabelle had hollowed out the part of Willa that was reasonable,
responsible,
and replaced it with pure, unadulterated desire.
They pulled away for mere milliseconds, a string of saliva between them, before melting back together. Their kiss deepened even more as they molded together, passionate and unyielding, pressed so tightly that Willa could feel Annabelle’s heartbeat through her clothes. Every little movement they made, every new angle, made even more intoxicating arousal flow through Willa, better and sweeter than any drink.
Was this how Eve felt, before she fell?
When Willa’s eyes fluttered open again, she was greeted with the sight of Annabelle sinking gracefully to her knees, and
fuck
if that didn’t make Willa all the more aroused. Annabelle’s deft surgeon’s fingers found their way to the buttons of Willa’s blouse, undoing them with startling efficiency.
“I haven't finished my drink,” Willa said, somewhere between a tease and a protest. Annabelle smiled, something devilish in her eyes, which burned maroon in the fire’s light. Reaching to undo the clasp of Willa’s bra and pushing her now-unbuttoned shirt out of the way, she murmured into the curve of Willa's neck:
“Let me help you.”
Willa watched curiously as Annabelle dipped her finger into the glass, catching as much of the liqueur as she could. Slowly, delicately, it was deposited onto the Cupid’s bow of Willa’s mouth and steadily dripped to her bottom lip, where it was lapped up by Annabelle. A hot gasp strained Willa’s throat as Annabelle repeated the action, smearing the drink and then licking it off.
This time, Annabelle took Willa’s lip into her mouth, sucking the remaining sweetness from it. Willa couldn’t help the soft moan that left her when she felt Annabelle’s teeth scrape over the flesh. Everything felt almost ethereal, glowing warmly like a fever dream she could wake up from any moment.
Annabelle pulled away, her eyes deliciously hungry as she regarded how disheveled and breathless Willa was. If Willa wasn’t so far past the point of no return, she might’ve laughed hysterically at the situation. Here she was, in her psychiatrist’s office, moaning like a horny teenager as said psychiatrist licked alcohol off her body. But there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
Willa felt more of Annabelle’s tongue, this time tracing down her neck, stopping to swirl in the hollow of her throat. Dimly, she realized that Annabelle had gotten more liqueur, still continuing her previous pattern, although increasingly lower. The Krupnikas was almost gone, and Willa almost mourned the loss. She was panting now, a small whimper escaping her when Annabelle decided to nip at her pulse point, leaving more and more red marks in her wake.
This,
the way Annabelle was determined to taste Willa’s skin like it was one of her intricate dishes, was more sensual, more intense, than any previous sex Willa had. Or would have. Dammit, she was so far gone.
“
Anne,”
she whispered hoarsely. I’m Annabelle grinned, rising off her knees enough to pull Willa’s blouse and bra off of her, taking care to fold her top before placing it on the table next to the glass. Leave it to Annabelle Lecter to be endlessly polite, even in times like these.
Speaking of polite—
“May I continue?” She asked, tilting her head as if Willa wasn’t shirtless and spread-legged on the armchair before her. Willa nodded some kind of pointless affirmation, but instead of going to town like Willa expected her to, Annabelle simply paused, eyes flickering to the last of the drink. Taking the pale amber liquid, she suspended a sweet, thick drop on Willa’s nipple that trembled with every breath.
And then she licked it up, a small sound of pleasure leaving her, like the honeyed skin was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Annabelle laved her tongue over the nipple until it stiffened and Willa whined, immediately trying to cover up the sound by turning her neck and burying her face in the back of the armchair. Almost immediately, she found her jaw being gripped tightly, face tilted back to meet Annabelle’s eyes.
“Do not hide from me.”
More wet kisses came, peppered onto Willa’s chest with single-minded focus. With every swirl of Annabelle’s tongue, Willa lost herself a little more. She didn’t bother trying to hold back her desperation, bucking her hips up and moaning when Annabelle did something particularly good. Like fondling Willa’s breast with one hand while stroking her thigh with the other. Definitely good.
Annabelle paused in her endeavor to trace out every one of Willa’s ribs with her mouth in favor of leaning back up to kiss her. This time, there was something fevered in her, in the way she nibbled at Willa’s lip. Every sound they made was immediately swallowed up by the other, a perfect picture of greedy desire.
Willa felt Annabelle’s fingers drift from her stomach to the button of her pants, and before she knew it, the last of her clothing was being pulled off her. She shifted her hips in order to help Annabelle, heart pounding rapidly. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to give herself over to Annabelle, to relieve the steady ache between her legs.
“How exquisite you are,” Annabelle purred against Willa's abdomen, hands pressing down on her hips in order to keep her from bucking up. “I've wanted to have you beneath me for so long.
At my mercy.
” Her words only sent more dizzying heat through Willa, engraving this moment permanently in her mind. Annabelle’s accent was attractive by itself, but hearing her say such obscene things only made Willa’s arousal grow.
Annabelle finally reached the waistband of Willa's black cotton panties, but decided to extend the torture further by sucking marks onto each of her hipbones. She soothed the reddened skin with kisses, leaving a painting of crimson, pink, and mauve all over Willa's body. Willa muttered something incoherent about
getting on with it,
and was immediately reprimanded.
“Don't be
rude,
Willa. You are too good not to savor.” Annabelle's moment of indignation quickly faded as she nuzzled against Willa's underwear, inhaling deliberately. She turned her face so that when she spoke, the vibrations would hit exactly where they needed to. “Heat,” she murmured to herself. “And fevered sweetness.”
Willa moaned at the contact, unable to help herself. She knew she was wet, more worked up than she had ever been in her life. Annabelle grinned against the fabric, flattening her tongue against it. Struggling against the hold on her hips, Willa made another sound, a quiet
‘please.’
That word must've been what undid Annabelle. Moving with lightning-speed, she pulled Willa's panties down to her ankles and spread her legs further.
Annabelle pressed one last, teasing kiss to Willa’s clit, obviously satisfied at the reaction she got. Her first lick was experimental, almost tentative, tracing out Willa's folds. “
How delicious,”
she said, before running her tongue up and back down. She set an excruciatingly slow pace, more focused on tasting Willa’s arousal than making her come.
When Annabelle’s mouth finally reached Willa's clit, Willa was shaking, all the air in her lungs seemingly vanishing. Every breath she tried to make came out as a breathy moan. Annabelle had figured out, in only a few minutes, how to swirl her tongue with just enough pressure to make Willa's vision white out momentarily because of how
good
everything felt.
“Oh God,
Annabelle
,” she groaned when the woman in question closed her lips loosely around her clit and
sucked,
pulsing her tongue against it. Willa wasn't going to last long like this, with Annabelle’s expert mouth devouring her, making pure ecstasy rush through her with every movement. The fire’s crackling and the obscene wet sounds were only interceded with Willa's moans.
Pleasure lapped at her in hot waves in time with Annabelle's tongue until Willa was enveloped in liquid heat, just about to boil over. She had begun to buck her hips up, legs tensing as she teetered on the edge. Finally, when her body could stand it no longer, Willa came with a cry that was almost soundless, scrunching up her face and letting go.
Willa fell off the precipice of her temptation, letting rapture roll over her like the honey Annabelle had licked off her body. For a wondrous second, everything was still as Willa's climax washed over her, every nerve in her body tensing and relaxing. It was absolute
perfection
, the pleasure that built and built until it let go and ebbed away to the rest of her.
When Willa regained semi-coherence, she realized that Annabelle’s face was still between her legs, licking her through the orgasm. But she showed no signs of pulling away, continuing her fast rhythm. Although this time, Willa felt a finger probing at her entrance and quickly slipping inside. Annabelle wasted no time curling it up, a whole new wave of
good
hitting Willa. Annabelle was determined, timing her tongue along with her finger, stimulating Willa everywhere where it was perfect and
she couldn't take it and please ohmygod.
This time, Willa's climax was anything but quiet as she arched up against Annabelle, a new feeling overpowering her. It almost reminded her of lightning in the forest, electricity flowing up her legs, setting sensitive skin alight. Willa just kept coming, Annabelle wringing the last of her ecstasy from her until Willa went boneless, sinking into the chair and taking deep, heavy breaths.
She didn't move for a bit, content to lay there flushed and gasp for air, basking in the afterglow. Willa thought of herself like a Phoenix, reborn in the ashes of scorching fire. Or maybe Annabelle was right and she was just Eve, taking what was forbidden and laying the price. When her heart rate became as normal as it would ever get after that, Willa became aware of Annabelle's hand between her own legs, her skirt pushed up.
Now that just wouldn't do.
“No,” she said, pawing at Annabelle's hand clumsily. “Let me.” She pulled Annabelle closer, into her lap, with one of her calves propped up against the armrest so that her legs were spread above Willa's hips. Annabelle smiled at her, radiant in the golden glow. Willa swallowed hard, still shaky from the aftershocks as she realized that she had no idea what she was doing. Thankfully, Annabelle seemed to pick up on that, because she wrapped her fingers around Willa's wrist and guided it lower, under the waistband of her panties.
“Like this,” she whispered, placing Willa’s fingers against her clit as she leaned in to press their lips together, kissing Willa thoroughly and with passion that they had both come to expect. “In circles.” Willa began to follow, pulling away in order to better watch how Annabelle reacted. It seemed that she wouldn't be lasting very long either, judging from the moans and shaky thrusts against Willa's hand.
“You like that?” Willa said, some of her confidence returning as she moved faster. “
Fuck,
I've wanted to touch you forever.” Instead of a sharp comment about language, all Willa received was another groan. “I've been imagining this, you know? Not exactly like this, but you. Naked.
Taking me.”
Annabelle was close now, panting into the curve of Willa's neck.
“More.”
Annabelle's request was voiced so desperately that Willa had no choice but to oblige. She pressed her fingertips up against Annabelle's clit directly, her own voice becoming husky as she kept talking, a filthy chuckle leaving her throat.
“
Oh
the things I've wanted to do. That day, with the ladder, I just hoped you would pin me up against it and
take me.”
Annabelle let out another trembling, raw sound, and then she was coming, rolling her hips forward and unraveling in Willa's hands. After Willa stroked her through the aftershocks, Annabelle relaxed completely on top of Willa.
They kissed once again, messy and slow, before pulling themselves apart and tugging their clothes onto their flushed, sweating bodies. Annabelle helped Willa up, smiling in a way that was sharply reminiscent of the Serpent in the painting.
God above,
she was beautiful, made of amber and darkness. Willa knew, in that moment, that she would follow Annabelle to the ends of the earth, do anything for her.
“Come, let me take you home,” Annabelle said, reaching towards Willa. Willa took one look at her hand, that beautiful surgeon’s hand that had touched Willa everywhere, memorized the lines and curves and angles of her body. The hand that was bathed in dying fireplace light, beckoning for her.
Willa reached out to take it, like Eve giving in to the Devil….
“Willa, Will? Are you alright?” Willa's eyes jolted open to find Annabelle's concerned face inches from hers. They were not in her office, but instead in the FBI room Willa used in order to work. As soon as they made eye contact, Annabelle relaxed, sighing in relief. “ You passed out, lost time. I was growing concerned.” Willa shook her head, once, then twice.
“What…” her voice was hoarse. “What time is it?”
Annabelle smiled apologetically. “I'm afraid you missed most of our therapy session.”
A second paused, and Willa let her head spin like a roulette wheel.
That wasn't real. Just a hallucination. But how?
Her thoughts broke apart when Annabelle offered her a hand, helping her up. “Did you dream about something?” She asked, almost like the question was sacred. Willa's eyes slid to the right, remembering.
“Yeah.”
“What was it?”
A pause, a breath, a thought.
Willa looked directly at Annabelle, so different from the hallucination yet unbearably the same.
“The temptation, and the fall.”