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Tweak says, "love me once, love me forever."

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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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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