open post | 4 | kink

[meerkats]

O P E N   S M U T   P O S T

◉ Drop a comment with one or more of your muses.
◉ Give me a prompt
◉ you can specify any of my muses whom you might like to play with, or I can pick. 
◉ Everything goes, even the retired ones, but I can't guarantee good tags from them. 
◉ sex!

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THOUGHT YOU SAW THE LAST OF ME DIDJA

[avoirfaim]

[ Fear is essential, in these sorts of situations. When all hell breaks lose among a community, no matter how large or how small, leaders must step forward. Leaders who can speak, who can compel, leaders who can assure the confused that there is something to believe. Simply done for him, in the circumstances. Better the devil who keeps you safe than the one who sends you scurrying through the wilderness like a prey beast. He was a man with resolve who stood his ground, who knew how to organize and didn't fear what chaos Wonderland had wrought. No fear of his own, but theirs? Theirs made them blind followers. He is, for the most part, content with his lay of the land.

And for his discontentment with the one person he would rather be here than scurrying about in the woods, he reminds himself that his claws are in Evelyn, and that must sting.

She's a beautiful woman with a steady hand. He watches her face unblinking as she runs the sharp blade across the line of his jaw. His hands sit unimposing against her hips as she does so, and his ego does remain stroked. ]

G A S P !!!!!!!

[nascensibility]

[Fear is essential but she has lost the ability to feel it, each day constructed around something resembling careful monotony, a structure, a routine. This sort of schedule gives the work they do meaning, and while the new authority of this world is of a variety she would normally consider with hesitation - historically, societies of this nature are unsafe, historically Evelyn knows better but history has no place here - they do not have the luxury of luxury.

Everything is harder.]

Beards do not suit you.

[She remarks with some small trace of amusement, raising an eyebrow as she lifts his chin with one finger. The edge of the razor at his throat, she curls the blade over his vulnerability and jaw alike, wiping the cream clean from metal on the towel draped over his shoulder. One hip cants into his touch and she exhales through her nose, contemplating. Even in the wake of civilisation's collapse she finds some cosmetic decency apropos.]

[avoirfaim]

[ There is issue to be taken with Maslow's hierarchy of needs, in regard to cosmetic decency. One might think, if they followed Maslow's lead, that in times of need the way that one dresses, the way that one grooms and the way that one presents themselves to the public would be of lesser import. Hannibal Lecter would disagree. To present your best self is to feel your best self, and more importantly to force others to see you as your best self.

A fine suit that requires a dry cleaning isn't a luxury any of them can obtain at the moment, but he makes very sure that the shirts he has, his jumpers, his trousers are all well cleaned, well pressed. He makes very sure that he is presentable. Presentation is, after all, half the battle of maintaining control.

So, simply, Evelyn and Hannibal agree. Agreements should be noted, to foster a sense of kinship. His lips don't smile, not with every uptick being an invitation for a nick from the blade at his throat, but his eyes do. His voice twinkles through conversational monotony. ]

Persian kings would disagree, but I do prefer being clean shaven.

[ His thumb gentle strokes her side under the hem of her top, a show of affection. She could cut his throat right here--she won't. She needs him. ]

I'm very lucky that you are very good at this.

[nascensibility]

You are lucky.

[Evelyn isn't above entertaining a mild smugness at her proficiency with a blade, even if the present moment is demonstrating it in a domestic context. In itself the occasional shave is a ritual, quiet in the roiling calamity as Wonderland collapses around them, the only sounds being the infrequent sighs through nostrils and the hushed scrape of metal on skin.

It is a satisfying activity with satisfying results, and Evelyn hums at the touch, the sensation too humanising. In the wake of more pressing issues it is easy to forget other needs. Too long since his last shave, and similarly too long since their last-]

Fini.

[They don't have the resources for hot towels, but she is considerably gentler in using the one at his shoulder to wipe away the excess cream. The razor she tidies next, before it is closed and both it and the towel find a new home on the table next to them. Evelyn sets to appraising her handiwork.]

Une amélioration.

[avoirfaim]

[ If Hannibal were perhaps a less confident man, less sure of his abilities and less in need of a constant source of entertainment, he might have let Evelyn become entirely detached from her humanity. He might have cultivated it to save himself, attempted to shape her entirely into his general--the situation suited command and control after all, and not the soft complexities of a spectrum of grey. He might have attempted full isolation from her desires, but where would the fun be in that? No, his touches, his occasional affection is deliberate. Humanity on a thread keeps her interesting to him.

A cat plays with its food when it could crush the mouse's heart in it's rib-cage instantly. The mouse could always get away, but it won't. Not without dragging it's broken body far enough to lay down and die alone.

A patient hunter with a slower, more intricate game to play, he waits and watches as she wipes his skin and then the blade clean. His hand then comes to his chin to feel her handiwork. ]


Tu as peint un chef-d'œuvre avec ce rasoir. But I expect no less from you.