Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "My feet can't keep still."

inmyownworld (inmyownworld) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-05-14 16:23:00

Current music:	Ben Folds- "The Luckiest"
Entry tags:	!complete, day 07, l lawliet, laura moon, location: pharmacy/liquor store

And In a White Sea of Eyes, I See One Pair That I Recognize And I Know...
Who: L Lawliet and Laura Moon
What: Snowed in equals things happen.
Where: The snowbound drug store.
When: Day 7, morning
Rating/Warnings: R for sexuality, ~~necrophilic overtones~~ Full-blown necrophilia. Batten down the hatches if you're squeamish.
Status: Complete

Things were different that morning. L woke stiffly on the makeshift bed in the corner, cobbled together with various things he had found in the thrift shop. He still used Laura's cardigan to rest his head on; though he had tried to give it back to her, she always insisted that he use it that way.

Stretching, he shuffled towards the door, pushing it open... except that it wouldn't budge. Puzzled, he rammed his shoulder against it, wondering if it was jammed... but to no avail. Had Bob or Light locked him in? Just then, he noticed that the darkness he'd presumed came with early morning was actually due to heavily packed snow piled up around the windows.

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inmyownworld
2009-05-17 06:59 pm UTC (link)

L shook his head, laughing without voice. "I don't care what people think of me. I never have. I've also never functioned normally, so this in no way hurts me." he unclasped his hands with Laura's, running them up and down her bare arms, savoring the experience of having someone he cared for so close to him. "The humans here... they'll find a use for me, even if I sleep with the dead. I have little doubt that the desperation here will cease in favor of selectiveness."

His eyes widened. She'd said the word "love" before, and it had excited him, but now she was saying that she couldn't survive without him. He supposed that hearing that from a dead woman probably merited bonus points, if it was really a game. "Maybe neither of us should be doing it... but we are, and it's not wrong," L said. "Especially now that both of us know that we can't settle. I need to feel more of you."

If L hadn't been sure before, though, he most definitely was when Laura told him that she had never "made love." The words, to L, had seemed less coarse than many usual ways of expressing sexual acts, and the way Laura responded was both lovely and tragic. He tightened his hold on her, wanting her to know that even thinking about stopping would be an affront to them both after they'd made their thoughts clear to each other.

"Now is a very good time," L said, pressing Laura's hands against the front of his jeans to demonstrate that point. "My blood is far too hot to catch a chill, I promise."

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spitandviolets
2009-05-17 07:56 pm UTC (link)

Her hands strayed away from his pants, sliding up to the hem of his shirt and over it. She slid her own shirt off of him, chuckling softly, mumbling something to the effect of "a world of good that's doing." Leaning in, she kissed his neck, gently biting at the flesh, tugging and sucking lightly. She let it go with a kissing motion. "If you're sure," she said, letting her words fade away. The rest of it didn't need to be said.

Palms caressing his chest, she let her hands move back to the hem of his shirt. She pushed the fabric up, holding her breath subconsciously as his skin came into view. She did not need to breathe, yet her lack of breath seemed distinctly marked somehow. Leaning down, Laura kissed at his belly softly, her cold lips grazing over his pale flesh. He was somewhat like a skeleton, and she was almost jealous. Almost because the poor thing looked half starved. Her tongue flicked out, tracing beside his belly button. "You're not a robot," she mumbled, hoping he would find the humor in her comment. Her hands moved quickly now, pushing his shirt up, and her tongue traced up his body behind them. She nipped his collar bone as she pushed his shirt up and off, hoping that she wasn't being too rough.

"That's more like it," she said, looking into his eyes. L did not make eye contact with her often, so she made certain that she was going to maintain that intimate line of communication with him during this ordeal. Reaching down, she took his hands and placed them on her sides. She shifted, back arching, making her rock against his lap a bit more. Her hips were pressed hard against his, wonderfully bony and fleshy at the same time. If she had more weight, she would have had to try a little bit less to get the same, teasing, intimate pressure.

"I think the first thing that you should learn in all of this is that it doesn't happen all that easily, and, as you've pointed out, it shouldn't be all that fast." She licked up the side of his neck to his ear, tugging at the lobe with her teeth very faintly. "You need to explore your partner, get to know him or her with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, your skin. You should be able to know them blindfolded. If I learned anything that was ever important, it was that." She let go, placing a delicate kiss in front of his ear. Her voice was a cool whisper. "I want you to get to know my skin. It's horrible, but I still think you should."

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inmyownworld
2009-05-17 08:46 pm UTC (link)

L shivered in appreciation as Laura caressed his chest through his shirt, watching the way her arms and shoulders moved as they removed first her shirt from his body, and then his own. "I'm sure," he said, locking eyes with her, the gesture deliberate and intense.

As his bony and still somewhat bruised chest was uncovered, he curled into himself slightly. He'd always been a little self-conscious of his skinniness, but he'd never really done anything to effectively put on fat or muscle. He ate lots of sweets, certainly, but he had a fast metabolism and was never sitting perfectly still, and he used so many calories with his brain that no matter what he ate, he could never keep up. Despite himself, he did find some humor in Laura pointing out that he was not a robot, since, for once, he was actually glad that he wasn't. He rather liked that Laura used her teeth, sensing innately that there was no real difference between the feel of living and dead teeth.

It was a struggle, and somewhat stressful, for L to maintain eye contact with the living, but it was getting easier to do so with Laura. Clasping her waist, abandoning his usual bi-fingered approach, he could feel the muscles beneath the skin bending and working to grind herself teasingly into his lap. She scarcely even needed to tell him to get to know her skin; already, the desire to explore further had set in. He stroked upward first, reverently, carefully, feeling the hard definition of Laura's ribs and then the smooth, rounded swell of her breasts, still cradled by the black lace of her bra. There were so many "firsts," for L in this encounter... "Sorry... may I take this off?" he asked, reaching towards the clasps between Laura's shoulder blades.

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spitandviolets
2009-05-17 10:09 pm UTC (link)

His skinny frame beneath her was an entirely new sight. She hadn't been the kind of girl that skinny guys had usually gone for. Most of the boys she'd been with in high school were overweight or at least fit, and Shadow had possessed muscles. Additionally, it wasn't often that she had ever been on top. She had been the kind of girl that men had liked to dominate, and, as such, had usually been on the bottom. Her icy fingers walked themselves over his ribs, delicately picking out the bone here and there. As she traced the bruises on his chest, she could feel the blood pumping through his veins, and it was somehow sensual. Flipping her hand over, she stroked up to his shoulders. Her hands wrapped gently around them, squeezing and rubbing in a deep, calming massage. She tried to wrap her mind around this new and novel man. He was tall, he was slender, and he still made her feel powerless. He could think circles around her. Perhaps that was what really frightened her about L, and that was what made her really respect him. All of the brawn she now possessed meant nothing, for he was the brains.

When he grabbed her around the middle, Laura actually let out a cry of surprise. It was a little murmur of delight, more accurately, but for her it was incredibly expressive. She was shocked that he was not holding her delicately, for she had never seen him actually grasp anything roughly. The gentle squeeze that his hands gave as they ran over her form made her shudder. Beneath the thin layer of skin that covered her flesh and bones, even her viscera felt warmer. As his fingers traveled, he would feel the scars that marked her body. From the end of the V on her sternum to her navel was a long, vertical scar that had been stitched up very carefully. There was no wire or floss or cording showing in the slightest. There were smaller, more speckled scars from things that had happened in the accident, and they ranged in size from centimeters to inches. There were also older scars, ones that had happened in life, here and there on her body. Just below her breastbone was a small, diagonal scar. There was also one on her upper arm. In the dim light, the most noticeable scar was the staples in her shoulder which glittered in the dim light.

She tilted her head back as his hands ran upwards, stroking over her cloth-covered breasts. How long? Spans of time rushed through her mind like the flipping pages of a photo album. Too long was the correct answer. Feeling his fingers on the clasp of her bra, Laura gnawed her lip seductively and made a coy face at him. She batted her eyelashes a little. "You want to take it off, do you?" She chuckled softly, for a giggle would not quite sound right. "Well...all right, then. You can take it off. But if it's the first one that you've ever handled, it's better if you see what you're doing. Allow me to help you."

Laura slid to her feet like some kind of serpent woman. She was the snake for the moment. Turning around so her back was to him once more, she reseated herself on his lap. The clasp was obscured by her long, dark hair. Picking it up, she twisted it a few times and tucked it so it was up, and it stayed, giving him a good look at the intricate hook and eye closure of her bra. "All yours," she said playfully. Looking over her shoulder, she winked at him.

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inmyownworld
2009-05-18 12:30 am UTC (link)

Skinny boys typically learned very quickly to be afraid of women like Laura. One reason was because the overweight and muscular boys also liked girls, and were further developed physically. So, rather than risk getting beaten up or humiliated, men like L tended to focus their attention away from girls, study hard, and pursue high-powered and competitive careers where your mind was more important than your body. Then, after they were at the top of their game, with lots of money and people working beneath them, they started to court women. And it often worked out pretty well. Of course, these were "men like L" who were unlike him, in that they actually possessed a structure of social skills. Even at twenty-five, L's first time promised to be somewhat adolescent, and both partners seemed to realize that, hence Laura's position on top. Even if L had ventured to take that position himself, the result probably would have been somewhat laughable, since he had yet to possess the confidence that was required for that role. Even as Laura analyzed L, he was, in turn, doing the same for her. But L had inhabited a relatively small world where this was concerned, and Laura was his first, so he was setting a constant in his mind more than judging her against others he had (or rather, hadn't) known.

L noticed the uncharacteristically expressive sound from Laura, and he interpreted it as a signal that he was doing something right. Though they didn't look it, L's hands were strong. Deft on a piano, computer keyboard, or around lab equipment, it took his spindly fingers a little while to adjust to the environment of "woman." He did, indeed, feel her scars, which he closed his eyes as he ran his hands over. He used an even lighter touch for those, probing the places where the flesh had been separated with a surgeon's delicacy and a lover's wonderment. To L, these were not out-of-place; they were as natural as the curve of Laura's back, her waist, the shadowy mystery her panties concealed, her breasts. As he memorized her form as she'd instructed, he realized that after a time, he would find it odd to encounter a woman who did not possess scars like that. Of course, he noticed his own handiwork, the staples, and despite the painstaking effort he had put into their successful completion, they looked a bit out-of-place compared to the precise skill that the other wounds had been closed with. Still, L rather liked looking at the staples in Laura's arm; it reminded him of how they'd met.

It was a good thing that Laura had turned around to allow L easier access. For all his genius, he was a man, and therefore likely suffered from clasp-lexia. However, it seemed fairly self-explanatory. L's intuition, like a woman's, tended to be very good, and it really did seem like there was nothing to it except unclasping the hooks and the metal loops. His eyes strayed every now and then towards Laura's upper back and her neck, the sole distractions from the task at hand. It was a puzzle, and L thrived on puzzles. "All mine? Do you promise?" he mumbled, undoing the last clasp and carefully slipping the straps down over Laura's shoulders. Of course, as long as Laura was still holding her hair up, it was an opportunity to explore her skin with his mouth, which he promptly took advantage of, kissing Laura's shoulders and neck slowly and searchingly.

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spitandviolets
2009-05-21 01:06 am UTC (link)

She'd never stopped to think that the kind of boys who did like Laura drove the ones that she thought didn't like her away. In fact, she'd never given much thought to the kind of boys who did and did not like her. Things had simply happened back when she was young; there was no explaining, and there was no analyzing. It was safer to just not bother thinking about it. If there was one thing that she knew for sure it was that "men like L" never "courted" women like herself. By the time they had money and power and status, the curvy girls of high school had become little more than a distant memory.

It had been a while since she had been on top, but that was not to say that she disliked it in any way. In fact, the novelty inspired her. It was an incredibly intimate position, perhaps too intimate for herself. There was a whole world of looking and touching that they could both do. Still, she managed to give one of those hopeless smiles down at him to help comfort him a little bit. She did not want anything to be awkward for him, even if it was a touch foreign for herself. She was very good lately at playing it cool, and that was her plan. Staying calm, acting like everything was just smooth and normal and perfect, would make it so.

The sensation of his hands running over her skin was odd, to say the least. His fingers pressed into the tender spots that were her scars, each one delicately stitched together, each one fragile. Too much pressure and he would be easily able to see what, exactly, she was made of. The thought horrified her, though she was sure he'd be a gentleman about it. Still, that type of thing was what made it all feel slightly wrong. Part of her wanted to stop him, but the majority would not allow such an action. She could not imagine him stopping nor could she imagine him with another woman, especially one who didn't possess such gratuitous scarring as she did. It was in that moment that she realized it would be much harder for her to make him keep his promise; perhaps she never would.

The stapled arm had become one of her favorite features. If she had wanted, she could have made them go away already. She could, at any moment, become less dead. Cielo, after all, had given her a bottle of Norn water, and she was fairly certain that it would work. Still, the staples did not bother her enough to merit a stronger form of repair. She had not sought the assistance of a doctor nor had she even sipped from her water bottle. Noticing his eyes on the scar, she slid a hand up, touching it absently with her fingertips. "Striking, hm? It's like my very own form of body armor. I don't know much that can bite through staples."

She leaned forward as his hands touched her back. It had been quite a while since she had removed a bra. It wasn't something she tended to think a lot about. Wearing one had become automatic, and so the habit had continued in death. She supposed she needed one now more than ever. Gravity had the habit of taking effect at inopportune moments. As the straps slithered down her shoulders and arms, she eased it along the rest of the way, tossing one of her last remaining garments to the side. Exposed, she did not move much when his lips ran over the flesh of her neck and shoulders. Pressing back against him, making herself more comfortable in his lap, she seemed to melt into him. Her free hand, the one that was not holding her hair, reached back, gently tugging his head down to press his head into the space between her neck and shoulder. She tilted her head a little, rubbing her cheek against his.

"How does it look in the back?" she asked. "A year dead and I still don't have the courage to look into a mirror."

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inmyownworld
2009-05-21 01:32 am UTC (link)

From behind, L had a certain security, able to touch and explore Laura intimately without fear of eye contact. He grinned awkwardly, amused and embarrassed at her glowing mention of the staples. It did make him feel a little bit more like a hero, though, to hear that he had provided her with armor. That he was somehow protecting the woman who needed no protecting, even though he seemed like the least likeliest person to provide anything with protection. Carefully, as if the staples would burn him, he ran his fingertips along them, one more place to ghost over in his quest to learn Laura.

Altogether, L didn't think much about bras and breasts. They were part of women, certainly, and were often displayed provocatively, but L had never paid much attention to them. Wedy had worn very revealing clothes, almost every time L had seen her, and one of the things she had laughed about was his complete inability to get excited about her cleavage. Wedy had been used to men staring, admiring, praising wolfishly with their eyes, while L had simply muttered instructions in his clipped voice. She had liked him for it, to L's bafflement. Would Laura dislike him, now that he was able to feel and comprehend desire?

Laura had a beautifully pale back. "It looks gorgeous," he said, trying out a word he didn't use often. He ran his thumbs over the slight indentations the straps had left in Laura's skin, watching the way they contrasted with the scars and scarcely-visible stitches. "It's interesting... unique... lovely..." he reached forward, his handling of Laura's breasts exceedingly timid at first, as they were the first ones he had ever touched. He found, very quickly, that he liked the feel of them, the way they fit into his palms and overflowed just slightly from his grasp. They excited him further, and his arms tightened around Laura as he felt her cheek cool against his own.

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spitandviolets
2009-05-21 01:57 pm UTC (link)

"They don't feel anything," she said absently as his fingers touched at the staples. "They don't hurt, they don't feel cold, they don't feel warmth. I wonder, one day, if my entire body will be like the staples. Will it ever be that not even human warmth will reach me? Will I become truly empty? Will even the feeling of the void cease to bother me? What will I be, then? It isn't something that I think of often; in fact, it only just crossed my mind at this exact moment. It's hard, because I don't know what thoughts and memories are mine. I get mixed up sometimes. The dead and I, we sometimes find ourselves together. I can hear them, and I know what they know. But this," she said, turning to him, her eyes half closed, "this is mine. This memory is mine. It will always be mine, more mine than any memory I had in life. Even if I lose this, someone like me, someone out there, one day, will remember it. And they will know that this moment belonged to Laura Moon, the dead, and L, the genius."

Closing her eyes, she leaned in and kissed him square on the lips. Her back arched slightly, pressing her chest into his hand. The skin was cold to his touch, and it didn't respond as living flesh might with goosebumps. It was strange for her, this form of the erotic, for she had no knowledge of how her body would respond to such things. As if she had been reborn, and in a way she had been, she was unfamiliar once again with intimacy. The motions were all familiar, but the responses were novel. And, in truth, she found herself a bit of a disappointment. Simply the sensation of human flesh against her own cold, dead corpse was erotic; any gratuitous touching, therefore, was only an amplification of that overload of sensation.

For a moment, Laura's mind got mixed up. She slipped to somewhere else, into the void of time and space, and into her travel magazines, or maybe into the mind of a traveler. There was a statue that stood out in her brain. It depicted an angel with an arrow pointed towards a woman's heart. Golden rays of light that were made of gold stood out in sharp relief behind the two, and the look on the saint's face was unmistakable. "The Ecstasy of Saint Therese," she murmured as she pulled away from the kiss, her eyes open. Realizing that she had spoken what she had been meant only to think, she pressed her forehead against his. "Have you ever heard of it? Or, better yet, have you ever seen it? You've been so many places."

Laura never talked this much during sex when she was alive. It was, perhaps, that she had never felt this comfortable during sex while she was alive. Reluctantly prying herself away from his exploring grasp, she turned to face him once more. Her hands slid to his hips, fingertips lightly grasping at the edge of his pants. "You know," she said, "I think that you still have too many clothes on. I am looking far more naked than you are, don't you think?"

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inmyownworld
2009-05-21 02:50 pm UTC (link)

L wasn't sure if he should be sad or happy that the painful looking staples were sensation-less, but his fingers slipped away from them once Laura reminded him of that fact. It was pointless to caress something that couldn't feel, and even the fledgling lover L could deduce that much. It shouldn't have been conducive to the spirit of the moment, hearing Laura say that she heard the voices of the dead, but indeed, this memory belonged to them both. And might flicker into someone else's mind someday, seeing them for what they were or what they were becoming in each other's presence. Because, while L was a genius and Laura was dead, L was content to simply settle for "boy" and "girl".

This form of the erotic was strange for both of them. The novelty, the reactions of their bodies finding an uneasy tempo despite Laura's state of living death. L sought to cover more of her body with his hands, if only to warm her as much as he was capable. Since they were both learning intimacy, Laura rediscovering it and L feeling it for the first time, there was great pleasure for mutual exploration. L's journeys of discovery were usually dark and lonely, and this set of circumstances enthralled him.

"That's in Rome," L said, without skipping a beat, his mind latching onto the reference and quickly locating it in his mind's network. "In the Santa Maria della Vittoria, the Cornaro Chapel... and the artist was Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini." There were all the facts. The picture that accompanied was one that L had only seen photographs of. When in Rome, he had never ventured into churches. Even sanctuaries were not safe enough for the national treasure that had been L. "It's beautiful," he said, after a moment, unable to remain fixated on art that was worlds away while his senses and physical reactions were building to a fever pitch. It was probably easier for Laura to think and converse about other things, but L's intense focus and concentration often caused him to falter.

When Laura turned to face him, L's eyes widened momentarily. She had a beautiful form, and the subtraction of her bra only added to L's impression. Even the stitches seemed erotic, at this point; L was learning quickly that he was sexually impressionable. Chances were that, if Laura had put a lobster on her head at that point, L would find it erotic and probably develop a fetish later on down the road.

There was nothing erotic, on the other hand, about a skinny boy taking off his jeans. When women shed their garments, there was a certain burlesque, seductive quality even if they only put minimal effort into the show. When shaped like a ruler, taking clothes off served one purpose, and it was a boring purpose. Awkwardly, L shifted himself so that he could slide his jeans down over his bony hips, revealing dull gray boxer shorts. It took a substantial effort to keep from curling into himself when he felt the cold air against his more sensitive bits.

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spitandviolets
2009-05-30 01:06 am UTC (link)

"I know how she feels," Laura murmured after L's recitation of facts concerning Bernini's statue. She smirked faintly, her fingers stroking over his chest. She drew a heart shape on his chest with her index finger over where his heart was; she only knew because she could hear it everywhere. "You're the angel, and your touch is divine. The feel of you, of your skin, of your warmth, is unlike anything I've ever experienced, in this part of my existence or the last two. You have an arrow, and it's pointed straight at my heart. Is it possible for me to bestow that, or this, type of rapture upon you?" She leaned in, kissing him gently, her fingertips cupping his face. "You're beautiful. You're so vivid and alive. I will make you feel more so."

The thing about being dead was that there was only fact and truth. There were no lies, no speculation, not even in a case like this. She had to speak in truths, and she was certain that she would do everything in her power to make him feel like the saint instead of the angel. Her head tilted to the side, eyelashes lightly brushing against his cheek. It was a gesture of appreciation for the awe he had exhibited when she'd turned around. At that point, she had half expected him to flee in terror. She could never get used to the scar that ran from her sternum to her navel. The entirety of her torso had been in pieces; that was unsettling, even for her.

Reluctantly, her body let him go when he pulled away to undress. She should have offered to help, but there was always something endearingly awkward about a guy getting undressed. Laura, like L, knew that men had very little finesse when it came to stripping down. Shadow had forgotten to take off his socks before his pants one time when they were sleeping together, and she had fallen into hysterics. Needless to say, it had been intimate self-love on both of their parts that night. She just could not look at him straight after seeing him in only underwear and white tube socks half way to his knees. L, however, was a little more graceful. It could have been that he didn't have tube socks on, and it also could have been that he wasn't as...tough...as shadow. He was skinny, like a ruler, not the muscled bear of a gentleman that Shadow had been. There was almost something more feminine, though she wasn't about to voice that. He probably would have been offended, even if it was true, and for once she was able to bite her tongue and not say something. Instead, she only gave him one of those half-smiles of hers.

"Much better," she said, crawling to him on all fours. Laura looked much like the cougar that she had utterly destroyed in the forest all those days ago. Leaning down, she kissed at his inner calf, her dark eyes gazing up the length of his body. "I'm not so alone if you're mostly naked with me." Her lips continued to brush along his leg, kissing at the inside of his knee, before she began straddling his body once more. She kissed his thigh, slowly, higher, before she moved her lips away and began sliding up his body once more. She did not allow any part of her to touch those more sensitive bits, her entire frame hovering just that much above him. Once she was out of dangerous territory, though, she began kissing again, from his navel upwards.

Meeting his face once more, she nibbled her lower lip. Kissing the tip of his nose, she chuckled darkly. "Hi," she said. "I'm Laura. How are you doing?"

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inmyownworld
2009-05-30 10:31 am UTC (link)

Laura's claim to know how Therese felt left him tongue-tied. It was a very romantic thing to say, when he thought about it, but he was still getting used to the concept of pillow-talk. He felt like he should be able to reciprocate, and use his articulate silver tongue to charm Laura in return, but it seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. He didn't speak for fear that he would prove himself to be a fool, which was the last thing he wanted to happen. It was almost more than he could take when Laura went so far as to call him an angel; he had to hide his embarrassed grin with his hands, shaking his head in silent protest. L knew better than most how profoundly flawed his character was, and to be compared to something that pure and divine and inspiring of a saint's ecstasy sounded funny to him. But flattering, and L was no critic of flattery. He loved being praised, even if it was a little over-the-top. "Yes... it is more than possible... you're managing it just fine," L admitted, a blush finding his way into his usually ashy cheeks when she went so far as to call him beautiful. In someone's eyes, at least, skinny, awkward, sad L was beautiful, and that was enough to make him cease to want Laura. No... he no longer wanted her. Now he needed her.

L was probably the closest to an exact opposite that Shadow had. In contrast to the large, dark man, L was slight and fair, with dark hair but very pale skin. A winter, like Laura. It was odd, but interesting, the ways that the two of them resembled each other. Their eyes were different, though; hen he could see them, L always admired Laura's startlingly blue ones. They always looked back at him, unafraid and unapologetic, and at others the same way, whereas L's sad grey eyes were usually turned away from any sort of contact or connection. It was another testimony to Laura's ability to reach L that he was occasionally able to meet her gaze.

For the first time that evening, fear truly gripped L, but it had nothing to do with Laura's state of non-living. Instead, it had everything to do with the fact that he was getting closer and closer to taking a plunge into the unknown. Sex was still, in most ways, a complete mystery to him. He knew, from hearing stories and understanding its purpose, that it was meant to be a celebration and an affirmation of life in its purest form, but how would that change or be the same, with a woman who was no longer living? His hands continued to touch Laura where they could, stroking her hair as she kissed his inner thigh, her shoulders and breasts and waist as she teasingly moved back up to meet him. He thought that she was going to kiss his mouth, but she kissed his nose instead, and the surprise delighted him.

The casual introduction, as if the two of them were meeting each other for the first time, was humorous but oddly appropriate. "I'm L," he said, mimicking his lover, mirroring her to show his appreciation of her expertly done foreplay. "I'm fine, thank you. Are things about to get even better?"

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spitandviolets
2009-05-31 02:14 am UTC (link)

A celebration of life. Laura had never heard it described that way. Obviously, she did not hang out in the elite and sentimental circles that L had. After all, for her, sex had always been something that one just did. It was an act. She did it because it felt good, and it felt natural. There wasn't a whole lot of thinking that went into it. When she had done it in the past, she had always considered it practice of sorts. Having children was a one-shot deal, Russian Roulette in a way. She wanted lots and lots of practice before it was time to actually make some. Now this, this was like finally winning the lottery when you were eighty-seven; having sex was something she thought she'd never experience ever again.

In a way, though, it was a celebration of life. Perhaps more so, it was a celebration of existence, of survival. After all, how had Laura been returned to a state of existence after her time had come? How had L been saved from the jaws of death in his own world at the hand of a mass murderer? How had they ended up in this place, at the same time, and how had he been in the drug store when Laura was returning from killing a cougar? And together, they were surviving. Just as the human race had done from the beginning, they were together despite insurmountable odds. It truly was the power of the human spirit, and perhaps it reflected part of Laura Moon that was, indeed, still a human being. Their current positioning was hundreds, thousands of years old, and it was a dance that had been burned into the minds of the very first human beings. It was primal, dangerous, and it was, somehow, wrong. Their meeting was the union of life and death, yet they were two sides of the same coin. Instead of being back to back, they were, for once, face to face, embracing each other.

And these thoughts, as they entered Laura Moon's brain, clearly belonged to someone else. She had no such wisdom, no such anthropological knowledge, and no awe at the human condition. Human, after all, was something that she had once been; she was not that anymore.

She had never stopped to ponder how similar they must have looked. Pale? Check. Dark eyes? Check. Detached manner of speaking? Check. How could they have been in such an enclosed area and not found each other? While opposites did have a tendency to attract, like did tend to call to like. So close together, and so naked, the lines between them seemed to blur, even to Laura's sharp vision.

"Even better?" she said, her fingers lightly touching along his sides. Her touch was like a feather, the pads of her fingers barely stroking at his skin. "Well, I don't know about that. I mean, I was thinking that I might be boring you. Why don't we just call it like it is and head to bed, hm?" Leaning down, Laura tucked her head into his shoulder, eyes closing. She relaxed a little, but her butt was still up in the air. Her angle gave him line of sight all the way down her spine. "See? I'm already asleep. Watch how convincing I can be." She chuckled and laid there, eyes closed, for a few moments.

Her body began to shift against him. Lowering herself to sit on his lap, she was pressed firmly against him, chest against chest, hips against hips. Though she was light, she at least had enough weight in her still to feel somewhat substantial. Her lips kissed along his collar bone, nipping gently. She pressed herself against him, practically trying to become part of him, as her knees hooked into his hips, anchoring her firmly in place. Wild horses probably would not have been able to shake her off of him.

"How can I make it better?" she asked, her voice a whisper against the soft flesh of his shoulder.

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inmyownworld
2009-05-31 11:48 pm UTC (link)

To perseverance. To our tenacity and unwillingness to fade into silence. If L had had a wine glass, he would have toasted Laura just then for those astute thoughts. Because, while their union was strange, and a combination of two things that were not meant to mingle in this way, it didn't feel wrong to him. A virgin about to embark on a new page of his existence, L's busy mind was in overdrive just thinking about the act of sex; he certainly wasn't worried about whether fucking Laura was right or wrong. He just knew that it felt more right than any other encounter with the opposite sex he had ever had.

If the lines between them were blurring, L wanted to eliminate them entirely. She was teasing him now, tantalizing him with her body and her words, and it both frustrated and thrilled the young detective. She joked about boring him, when he was so clearly interested, and as painfully hard as a man could get under these circumstances. As she laid against him, bosom to bosom, her still heart and his pounding one in close proximity.

When Laura asked how she could make it better, L realized that she truly was teasing him, asking him to put something so primal and obvious into words when he was still figuring it all out from a first-person perspective. "I want to make love to you. Now. Please," he said, in a deliberately steady voice.

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spitandviolets
2009-06-02 01:04 pm UTC (link)

No one had ever toasted Laura. At her wedding, she had pulled the trump card by having the organist play Scooby Doo. There was no father of the bride speech because he was dead, and her best friends were too drunk to bother doing it. Her mother was wearing black. There had been no celebration for her death, no reception at her home after the burial. Laura had never been celebrated, not since her christening, which was a long time ago. Still, it was better off that she hadn't heard it. She could not offer such beautiful words the full appreciation that they merited. After all, she wasn't even sure that she could still cry. She doubted it.

Would L cry? She had known guys like that. They always wept after sex, and it had always unsettled her. There had only been a few times when she'd done so herself after intimacy, and it was because a sense of overwhelming clarity had washed over her. When she cried, it felt like something had been lost. She had never figured out what it was, but it felt like some part of her was ripped away, never to be replaced again. In hindsight, perhaps it was a part of her heart. Every single person walked away with a little piece of her, taking and chipping, until she was left with what she was at present: hollow. Maybe she would have been one of those dead people while she was still alive. How long, after all, could her vibrancy have lasted?

Sliding off of him, she stood up and removed the last remaining trace of garment from her body. She stood before him, dark hair clinging to her pale body in the dimly lit room. At least nobody else would be walking in just then. The last thing she wanted was anybody else's, present company excluded, upon her. The scars, after all, were scattered and everywhere, impossible to hide when she was anything less than fully clothed. The flesh of her right hip still held traces of a bruise, and there was something odd about the way her hips came together. It was like they had been pieced back together.

"Are you sure?" she asked with as much emotion and concern as she could muster. Admittedly, this was not a lot, but she hoped that it conveyed what she was going for. "With your heart. Not with your mind. Are you positive that this is what you want?" It was better to give him an out. After all, she wasn't even certain that it would be that good. The last thing she wanted was for sex, once more, to muck things up socially for her. Granted, the probability of death in this particular situation was slim, which was a comfort.

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inmyownworld
2009-06-02 01:30 pm UTC (link)

No one had ever toasted L, either, at least not in his presence. It had probably been done as a joke somewhere along the line, after a difficult case. Police detectives, pouring champagne and laughing after he'd found the missing puzzle piece, would raise their glasses, first to each other, and then to "L, the computer detective." Smirks all around. Turning to irreverence as more alcohol was poured, and then to mocking. Computer detective, castrated machine, single-minded idiot savant. Maybe he had the fame and fear that the title L invoked, but he would never have a wedding or a personal toast, simply for the sake of being himself and winning someone else's affection.

That had dawned on L in the rain. He had never been to a wedding, and only knew, vaguely, that bells had something to do with them. Bells meant the beginning of a journey. Or the end... since every beginning is, of course, the end of something else. So it goes.

The uncertainty of this moment, for L, was frightening. It wasn't often that he was in a situation where someone else was more competent than he was, since he habitually stuck to things he was good at. As Laura removed her panties and stood before him, undressed, vulnerable, willing, something changed inside of him. This belonged to them, this moment, and it was no one else's. "I'm sure," he said, his heart pounding so loudly that even he could hear it. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything." Not only that, he felt like he was being pulled apart with the urgency of his body's various new sensations. Nature was nudging him, telling him that something needed to be done. Procreate, stupid. It's so easy a rabbit can do it.

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spitandviolets
2009-06-02 02:18 pm UTC (link)

"You're scared," she said. Reaching out, she touched his cheek gently with the back of her hand. His blood and pulse was like thunder roaring in her head. She heard it all. There was no hiding from Laura in a situation such as this. It was when the line between the living and the dead was most clearly drawn.

Her hands slid down his body, hooking into the edge of his boxers and pulling down carefully. The last thing she wanted was to scare him more. Her motions were slow, deliberate, like she was undressing a porcelain doll. Though her eyes moved here and there, it took conscious effort not to stare. She didn't want to give him the vibe of a lamb that was about to be consumed by a wolf. His heart was pounding so loudly, so violently, that she had to wonder what was going through his mind.

Laura slid over him once more, and her lips met his. She kissed him delicately, tenderly, her hand lightly resting on the side of his neck. Her thumb gently stroked over his carotid artery. When she pulled away, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into the side of his neck where her hand had been. "Just breathe," she said softly. "I promise you that it isn't going to hurt. That's the girl's job, honestly, to hurt. But it doesn't anymore. Firstly, I can't feel pain. Secondly, I've had a good deal of practice. If you need to, talk to me. Tell me if anything doesn't feel right. If you want to stop, we'll stop. This is all on you. I know it's sometimes hard to communicate, but I won't know if you don't tell me."

Her hips shifted, and she positioned herself to complete the ancient, primal rite that they had been performing. She wondered why there were so many goddesses with sex in their pantheon, but now she knew. It really was a woman's responsibility, almost the whole thing. And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Her lips slid up, and she bit his earlobe as they joined significantly. It was one fluid motion, not awkward or slow in the least. It was better to just go for it, she had assumed. There was no need to torture poor L any longer. Automatically, more out of habit, she forced out a long, low breath. It seemed the hard part was over. The rest was all intuition and instinct, which he hopefully possessed.

Staying still, she leaned in, her arms wrapping around him as best as she could. Laura held him tightly for a moment, waiting, counting the space between each of his breaths. She wanted to be attentive, to make sure he knew that she was paying attention to him and not just running on autopilot. Basking in the warmth that was unlike anything she had felt since dying, her toes curled. She missed being human. She missed being able to feel on a regular basis. But this was a close second.

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inmyownworld
2009-06-03 01:22 am UTC (link)

L wanted to deny that he was afraid, to vanish his fear and reassure Laura with his eyes and his words, but he knew that such an effort would be laughably futile. His heart was pounding and he was actually trembling slightly, but there was nothing in his heart or mind that was holding him back. "I'm not scared... just nervous..." he admitted softly, fighting the urge to bring his hands and arms closer to his chest and keeping them around Laura, being careful not to restrict her movements.

The supreme delicacy with which Laura removed his shorts was unexpected, but deeply appreciated, by the young man. It was cold, in more ways than one, with Laura's hands and the somewhat nippy air, and L was finding that he was self-conscious of being so completely vulnerable and exposed. He reminded himself that he was all right, that it was safe, with Laura. He reset himself, pacing his thoughts as she kissed him and returned, momentarily, to something familiar. He was good at kissing, he thought, and it boosted his confidence. Her soft instructions and assurances made him hold her closer, but in all honesty, he couldn't imagine stopping. Things felt so right, and so natural, so right and wrong at the same time... their union was paradox and intriguing and it defied odds, yet remained as absurdly simple as the union of any given couple in history. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life since his mother had turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, he placed his fate in the hands of a woman.

It was so smoothly and expertly done that L couldn't honestly tell where it had begun and ended, except that it wasn't ending, and it was turning into something that barraged all of his senses simultaneously. As she held him, embracing him with her arms and her body, he focused on slowing his breathing when his initial response was to breathe faster. He had to steady the trembling in his limbs, and keep from hyperventilating, since it would have been horribly embarrassing if he passed out due to lack of oxygen intake the moment he started engaging in intercourse. Not that all of this was consciously running through his thoughts... at the moment, his attention was focused entirely on Laura's beauty, and what her body was doing for his, and the way he was inside and under her and connected with her all at once.

Fortunately, nature has a way of teasing even the shyest and most socially backward boys forward when the opportunity to have sex is offered. L possessed intuition in spades, and instinct was only a matter of moving his hips. He started to rock them upward, slowly, uncertainly, half-expecting to be told that he was doing something wrong. But regardless... it felt incredible. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to hold Laura closer and compromise the angle, or let her sit perpendicular to his body so that all of her slight weight could be concentrated on his hips and all of their incidental parts.

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spitandviolets
2009-06-03 02:28 am UTC (link)

Nervous was not something that she could clearly remember. She wished that she could. It lead to moments of giddy anticipation, and it was a good warning mechanism. Still, all she could do was hope that his nerves would fade. Hopefully her careful attention to detail was enough to make him relax. She would not have been wholly alarmed, however, if he had passed out in the middle of it all. She was very understanding and compassionate, and she was a person who was good to have around in the face of a crisis. Fainting during sex counted as a crisis, though it was more so for him than for her. She would have been disappointed, but it would have been excusable.

The fact that his breathing slowed seemed unusual to her. His pulse was pounding, and his body was doing some serious work. Did he not need more oxygen? Then again, it was important to stay calm for a guy. She had never just lost it, but she had been with guys who had. Honestly, L was lasting far longer than some men she had known biblicaly over the years. There was one gentleman who had been finished the moment that she'd unzipped his pants. That had been an inconvenient mess; her hair hadn't felt quite right for several days. There was also the time that he had called it a night when she had sat in his lap. This was going very, very well, all things considered. He was performing admirably.

"Yes," she hissed, "that's better." The friction of his skin, as warm as the sun to her, against her own was wonderfully stimulating. The choice was made for him when she sat up, her hips resting squarely against his. If he wanted it differently, he was free to adjust her as necessary. After all, even he could have lifted her, and even from this position. Tilting her head back, she gripped at her thighs, holding onto them as she let him dictate the flow of her movements. Part of her was worried that she was taking advantage of him somehow; she had to keep reminding herself that he wasn't so young. He chose to be there, sharing himself with her. She had not taken anything, and she never would. The option would always be his. Part of her longed for the Laura Moon who would take the initiative, who would attempt, on a nearly daily basis, to seduce him. Still, this was better. She was there for him, to love him and to keep him safe.

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