Who would have thought? L isn't only the century's greatest detective. He might also be the century's greatest lover. That's right.
L is my lover.
L is B's lover.
B's L.
Of course, it isn't as simple as that. When we are with other people, we must resist the urge to pull out lube and do it right there and then.
They might not like it.
They might not like L and B.
Just like they didn't like L and A.
The first time we did it, L was seventeen. I was sixteen. L could drive. I could not. I wanted that freedom. But obviously he didn't. He didn't drive. He just stayed. Stayed on his cocoon. His cocoon. Now that I think about it, the Wammy house was a cocoon. A cocoon that holds millions of caterpillars. Not millions, no. Not thousands. Not hundreds either. We were carefully picked. And picked. And picked. Until there was one left. No, two. The original butterfly. L. He was already a butterfly when he went in the cocoon. He was special. When he went out of the cocoon he was a.. A new breed of animal. But then he wasn't out of the cocoon yet. Like A wasn't out of the cocoon.
L was changing before our eyes. When I said "our," I meant the Wammy children. "Our" doesn't mean me only. I didn't know him personally. Yet.
He wasn't playing with the kids anymore. N noticed, M noticed. The M with the goggles noticed. He was always locked up in a room, solving cases. L, not M. Never M. M doesn't lock himself up in a room to solve cases. No. He's too busy following M. The M with the goggles was like a dog. That explains the position on the bed. You see, M and M were in a bed together. The M dog was in a doggie position, as was natural. N just peeked. And he blabbed to me. But I was too busy thinking about A.
One day while I was next door to the cat-and-dog duo(I was hearing them), Roger said that L sent for me. He said L wanted to see if I was as good as he wanted me to be. I didn't care at that time. B didn't care about L then. Just like B didn't care about the strawberry jam. Just like the Wammy house didn't care about A.
I was horny. As I said, it wasn't because of L. I was horny because M and M were doing it and I wasn't. Who could I do it with?
C loves to draw. Her nickname is Lucy but there's an L already so we call her C. She would draw me posing nude before I proceeded to fuck her. And I didn't want delays. Same with Sarah.
S was a math genius. She would calculate when she would come by measuring my erect and throbbing penis.
The M with the dog already had a partner. The M with the goggles.
N was too fragile for me.
The only one left was A.
A was shy. I didn't know what A's special talent was.
Anyway, as I was going down the hall to see L, I thought of images of him. How he would look like. I thought he was a fatty, with a big beer belly. And where there's a beer belly, there's beer. He didn't look like a butterfly to me. It grossed me out so much I almost puked. But then I was at his door. His room. His cocoon inside the cocoon. I thought about A. They said that A was L's favourite. I could see that. A was always with him, sometimes helping him solve cases. I was jealous of A.
I could hear L breathing. More like panting. He sounded like one of the M's when they did it. I was worried. Was he in there with a lover? Should I come in? After 5 minutes I slumped back. I sat with my knees raised up on the floor. B looked ridiculous, I know. But it helped. Helped make up B's mind. I saw B push open the door. B saw L sitting like B just a moment ago. L wasn't crying. No. L never cries. He was just breathing loudly. As if he couldn't believe he was still alive. B thought, "A is dead."
L looked up to me. He stopped. His eyes. No emotion. Just like when he was panting. His mouth showed signs of emotion, not his eyes. I always thought that whenever L puts his thumb to his mouth it means he was holding in his feelings. A never did this, I know. A always tweaks the nose of the face of A.
L's mouth curved. Upward or downward, I didn't care. "B," he said. B didn't know what overcame him. B went up to L's big chair and sat next to him. B assumed the same position he was in outside the door. B thought he looked like L. A would probably think so too.
He didn't seem surprised. L. He just slowly reached for B's hand. Took out B's hidden thumb from B's tight, clenched fist. L took B's thumb and put it in B's mouth. B understood. As B looked up in L's eyes, B saw A. Trapped. Blond hair blowing. Looking around, lost. A was lost. A was lost. A lost. A lost to B. A.
"B," L began. I didn't know if he began or ended. I didn't know anything before I knew L. L suddenly took my thumb slowly put it out of my mouth. We watched as a trail of saliva grew. The trail ended. My thumb ended. Ended in his mouth. At first he bit my nail. My long nails. I imagined them scratching L's pale, fragile neck. It was almost as pale as his shirt. A probably smelled his shirt. Gripped it. A was lucky.
L sucked. No, he didn't suck. He sucked on my thumb. B's erection returned. B knew now that L didn't have a beer belly. "Bloody hell," B said. B's past image of L didn't do him justice. L. Justice. L loved justice. Just like he loved A.
B thought of M and M. M and N. B knew N liked M. And M liked N. But M was jealous of N. N was second and M was third. M didn't like being the third. M didn't like bronze. M liked leather. B was gold. A was platinum. A wasn't a number. A wasn't first or second. A was just the best. Platinum A. PLatinum A. There it was again. L and A.