|Laylah (laylah) wrote in 1931,|
@ 2008-07-31 18:16:00
|Entry tags:||ladd, ladd/lua, lua, short fic|
"Perfect Girl," Ladd/Lua
Title: "Perfect Girl"
Warning for, uh, Ladd doing his thing.
Canon what-if. Ladd does what he's always wanted to.
alternate title for this is "the worst idea ever." um.
The little flask is warm in his hand, warm like living flesh, warm like liquor. What it has inside is better than liquor, though, better than anything his uncle's guys can come up with. Such fun, they're going to have such fun together. He doesn't have to wait now.
"Lua," Ladd sings -- her name is so pretty, just like she is, just right, the perfect girl for Ladd Russo, and about to get better. "Sweet Lua, dear Lua, where are you?"
She comes down the stairs slowly, watching him, her eyes wide and scared and hopeful. She wants to stop waiting, too. He can tell. She wants him to.
"Come here," Ladd says, reaching out, and she glides close, slips into his reach, delicate and soft and she smells so sweet. "I have something for you, my Lua, something so very special." He opens the flask and holds it to her soft pink lips. "Drink this for me, Lua, my Lua, just like that, go on, drink."
She doesn't ask him why, so sweet and good, and he watches her pale throat when she swallows. Sweet Lua, lovely Lua. How long does it take before it works? Does it happen right away? Will she feel it when it does? Will he be able to see the change?
He tosses the flask away and takes Lua's hand, holds her by the soft curve of her waist so they can dance, and she follows him, follows him, sometimes he thinks she would follow him anywhere --
"Lua," he says, into her hair, her hair like soft gold, "my Lua. Sweet Lua. I'm going to kill you, you know. And you want that, don't you? You want me to."
She nods, and Ladd wraps one hand around her throat, doesn't need more than that she's so delicate, his other arm around her waist as he squeezes -- ah, and she whimpers then, like she thought he'd still wait, and she touches his arm and her eyes are pleading and she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, ever felt, trembling and taut in his arms right up until the strength goes out of her and the light from her eyes and she gives him her death because she loves him so much.
Death weighs her down, gives her substance in his arms, and they can't dance if she won't take any steps, so Ladd just holds her close, petting her hair while her head rests against his shoulder -- and a shiver runs through her at last, like it does sometimes when he's deep inside her, a shiver and then a gasp.
"Ladd?" she says, and he lets her move so she can look up. She clings to him with both hands now, like he'll make her shivers stop. Is she confused? Does she know what happened? Does she think he changed his mind at the last minute again, and she almost died but not quite? "What --"
"Like this," Ladd says, pulling his knife, holding it up where she can see. "It's like this now, here, you see? You're just right for me, my perfect girl." He slits her throat in one fast motion and oh, her eyes go wide, blood gushing out, on his hands, on his suit, on her dress. There's just time enough for him to breathe in the sharp wet copper smell, to admire how lovely she looks, red and white, beautiful as he always knew she would be -- and then the blood goes sliding slithering crawling back up, into the wound he made, healing up her soft white throat until she's better, all better, her eyes fluttering open huge and frightened -- and it's perfect, he can kill her now every time he wants to and she'll always, always come back to him.