Disclaimer: (Sigh)
Author's Note: An attempt to mix one of my new favorite couplings with one of my friend Lessa's new OTPs. :D
Warnings: Vauge lime. LxBB and LxNear. Hellz to the yes.
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Dirty
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What is it about white that makes you want to get it dirty?
In his mind, the doppelganger smiled—allowing his purred words to echo through the empty shadows. It wasn't the only sound: there was a faint, answering groan, as well as a jangle of heavy chains. And to this, the look-alike cocked his brow, his burgundy gaze alive with amusement.
Have you noticed this, too, L? he whispered, delighted. It's intoxicating, isn't it? So taunting, so daring… just begging to be sullied.
He leisurely licked a melting glob of strawberry jam from the detective's cheek, the pink jelly mixing with a thicker, crimson liquid. It made the sweetness rusty… But still, the madman leered.
I suppose that is why I hate your shirt so much… and your skin… The tip of a sparkling dagger gently grazed the side of his face, slipping downward in a contemplative sort of stroking motion. Or perhaps I am wrong; perhaps that is why I love them so much.
Either way, L hissed—torn between pain and pleasure as his eyes leaked streams of scarlet.
Yes, yes, that's the way! His bright-eyed clone's breathing hitched; he eagerly crawled astride the bound one's straining hips. Stain yourself! Stain yourself red… help me in my quest to dirty your damned purity—!
He cackled beautifully, his giggles ringing like bells in the detective's ears. And in his mouth sang an equally disturbing orchestra, that of a plethora of flavors: sweetness and tartness and bitter iron… He gurgled and coughed wetly, trying not to choke. But it was hard, so hard—in so many, many ways—as the murder rocked against him, making the ocean in his throat swish and sway… His vision swam, dyed the color of a weeping ruby…
God, I love to make you dirty—!
A horse cry; a spastic buck. There was more white than ever before. And thus he was pure again, and must be made dirty.
So the cycle went on.
And on, and on, and on… to the present, and to now.
"…what is it about white that makes you want to get it dirty?" he whispered to the child pinned beneath him, their shared black eyes locked and equally wide. In the solitary midnight playroom, still and straddled, the newest victim pursed his pallid lips: mouth already stained with strawberry jam.
But he offered no answer.
Rather, he submitted himself to the quandary: working with and against his guardian until both men were whiter than ever before.
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