Author's Note: I decided to take a shot at dark Rogice. Woohoo.
Disclaimer: Lord of the Flies does not belong to me.
Shadow-speckled
The sunlight dripped through breaks in the leaves, speckling Roger with bits of gold light and black shadows. That combined with the black face paint smeared around his mouth and eyes made him seem like a monster conjured up by some terrified child.
Maurice, in sharp contrast, looked like the child in question. While Roger was hunched over in the leaves he stood, shifting from foot to foot impatiently and looking curiously up at a bird in one of the trees.
"Maurice. Focus," his companion grunted. "I only agreed to take you hunting if you'd actually pay attention."
"Sorry, but I don't particularly know what you're doing."
"Tracking." Roger pointed to a pile of something brown. "This is proof that pigs have been here. So this is why we choose this place to hunt."
"Ew." Maurice wrinkled his nose at the pile of pig dung.
"You said you wanted to come with me." Roger started towards a thicket of creepers. Maurice followed, and Roger immediately sent him a glare that said walk more quietly.
Maurice whispered an okay and tried. Suddenly everything he did was loud, the slight scrape of his bare foot against the forest floor was the reverberation of fifteen thousand drums.
There was a rustling in the bushes ahead of them, and if Roger had been a cat, his ears would've perked up. Instead, a smirk crept across his face, making the black crescent of face paint around his mouth look even more menacing.
Maurice just followed him, trying not to make noise. Roger's dark eyes were almost slits in concentration and he'd bitten down on his tongue. He looked over at his hunting partner, and gestured with one hand at a specific bush.
Sure enough, a small pig was wandering about in the bushes. "This is just practice," hissed Roger. "We'll need a bigger one to bring back." His smirk widened and he and Maurice crept up to the pig. Roger gave a silent countdown, and brought his spear upon the pig.
"Maurice?" Roger almost snarled, confused.
"I...I can't."
"Can't what?"
"I can't kill." Maurice's eyes were downcast, and he seemed to have gotten some of his face paint in his eyes.
Roger prowled over to his companion-he wouldn't call him a friend-and practically growled into his ear, "There's a difference between can't and won't."
"I can't kill, Roger. I just can't."
"Everyone can kill. It's just a question of who will." The dark-haired boy grinned sinisterly. "How about we practice?"
Maurice's eyes widened, surely this wasn't going to end well, knowing Roger. "Hurt me, Maurice. You seem to be terrified of me. So hurt me. I won't fight back."
"I'm not an idiot, Roger."
"Of course you're not." Roger raised his arms in a gesture of peace. "Now hurt me. Hurt me hard. If you can cause pain, then you can kill."
Maurice's hands shook. Roger was the closest thing he had to a friend, yes, he was a bit of a creep, but he couldn't hurt him. "O-okay." He gently poked one of Roger's shoulders with his spear, as though testing it out.
"C'mon."
Maurice wanted to make Roger happy. The need was almost oozing out of him. Even if it meant pain, he wanted Roger's approval. So he stabbed harder, feeling the soft skin beneath the point. A bit of blood came out, and Roger smiled slightly.
Maurice put down the spear and scratched at the spot with his fingernails. A trickle of blood began to run down Roger's shoulder, mixing with the face paint.
"That's it," Roger coaxed. His voice was almost soothing.
The sight of blood made Maurice's stomach turn a bit, but he was glad that Roger was happy. He felt a hand on his shoulder, at first from comfort, but then the grip turned angry. "My turn," Roger whispered into his ear, and Maurice felt the urge to scream as he was pressed onto the ground.
He'd just let Roger have his fun and then they'd be back to hunting like normal. Roger pressed and scratched and nipped a bit at Maurice's collarbone. This was a strangely romantic gesture, normally it was just scratching or spearing.
"Roger..."
Roger didn't seem to care, the nipping had become more like painful kissing. He eventually made his way to Maurice's mouth, and all his protests were drowned out by Roger almost biting his mouth.
Roger pulled away, leaving Maurice's lips throbbing. "You like this, don't you? You like it when I cause you pain. And yet you can't kill or cause anybody else pain."
Maurice only nodded. Roger took his victim's chin in his hands, tickling the skin with his fingers. "You like this a lot. So imagine doing this to someone else."
"I'm not like you, Roger."
"Really? Is that so?" He was like a cat playing with a dying bird.
"Yes."
"Oh, you are. You're very much like me." He gave Maurice another violent kiss. "I'm not being affectionate, see. I'm being sadistic. There's not that much of a difference between the two in the end."
"T-there is. Affection is like what mothers do. Sadism is what you do."
Roger smiled and traced one of the cuts he'd made in Maurice's skin with his untrimmed nails. "Oh, no, not at all."
"This is affection." Maurice was able to almost pull himself up from beneath Roger and kiss him. His lips were surprisingly warm, and he made sure that he was gentle and chaste. Everything Roger wasn't.
"I enjoyed that," Roger said honestly.
"Good."
"But not as much as this. And stay down." Roger pushed him back onto the ground, making him lose his breath for a few moments.
"We haven't even caught the pig yet..." Maurice suddenly sounded worried. "And how long've we been gone for?"
Suddenly Roger looked very worried.
"Maurice...we left at roughly nine, let's say...and it's nearly noon now..." Roger swore under his breath. "Jack is going to be pretty angry."
"We've got to get back. But catch the pig, first."
Roger sighed and got up off of Maurice. "But consider this a lesson in hunting for you. Hopefully you'll be able to kill this time." His tone suggested that if Maurice didn't, there would be consequences, so Maurice picked himself up off the ground and followed him off into the shadows.
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Um. I enjoyed writing that.