Chapter Text
"Wait- I...I'm not ready..."
You're sat in L's lap, naked, his face nuzzled into your neck. He, of course, was fully clothed.
It's only because he didn't like the feeling of blood on his skin. It was sticky. He would take off his clothes after.
"Take your time," he mumbles, his lips dragging up and down the side of your neck.
"Ugh, it just hurts so damn bad," you groan, clutching his shoulders. It was all jittery nerves, you've done this before.
"Only for a moment," L soothes. He pets your side, the smooth expanse of your skin a pleasant feeling beneath his uncalloused fingertips.
"...you owe me," you huff. He always "owed you." You never asked him for anything after, it was all talk, but he got you something anyway. A necklace, or a dress. A bag, or a pair of shoes. Something to show his gratitude.
He planted an open-mouthed kiss on the meat of your shoulder, his fangs scraping your skin. "You know I'm grateful to you for all it is you do," he murmured.
"God, Does it have to be my neck," you whine.
"Not at all," L hums. He eases a bony hand down your arm, and gently takes your hand in his. His thumb circles your palm, before sliding down to the pulse of your wrist. Your heart was beating so fast. He didn't like making you this nervous, but it was necessary. "But of all the places, the neck goes by the fastest."
You sigh, you pout, you whine, but you know it'll have to happen. You loved him, after all. His life was not only important to you, but to the world. "Do it."
He tugs you closer, the skin of your belly hugged tightly to the fabric of his shirt. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed to the nape of your neck. So sweet. The sweetest he's ever tasted.
He plants loving, wet kisses up to your ear and down to the cap of your shoulder, each one a confession on its own. "I'm sorry." "I love you." "You're my everything."
"Quickly," you whine, the endorphins pumping through you in an attempt to prime you for the feeling.
He presses one last kiss to your neck, right on top of the vein, and with a deep breath, sinks his fangs into your flesh.
This part is never particularly nice.
You scream out, clutching his hair for some sort of support. He does his best to hold you still as he begins to gulp down the hot, metallic liquid, his tongue laving over the area of penetration in an attempt to speed up the numbing process.
He can feel your tears drip down your chin, in his hair, down his own face, to his shirt. Your whimpers and sobs are unbearable. But he needs it.
Seconds later, before you can get the wind to scream again, you still. Your body doesn't stiffen, it relaxes. Your sounds aren't stifled, but tapered off. The numbing was working. He slid his hand across your back, a silent praising of your work.
The two of you are quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of your leftover sniffles and his desperate slurping. Eventually, he pulls away. Even with the numbing, you can feel the way his fangs seperate from you, how your skin clings to them as they slowly remove themselves.
He sits back, and blood gushes from your open wounds. It dribbles onto his white shirt, yet another one lost to your monthly activity. He watches, for a moment, as it runs down your chest, before coming to his senses. You needed your blood more than he did, he can't let you bleed out. He tips you back, and diligently laps up the excess as it oozes down your body. He's quick to catch up, and when he reaches the open wound, he tongues at it over and over again until it clots.
By now, you're feeling faint. "Lawliet..." you mumble arily, you lashes fluttering as you attempt to stay alert.
"I know." He lays you back, your body limp on the red sheets. While you feel seconds away from unconsciousness, he's never felt more alive. Incredibly unfortunate. He slowly stands, and walks to the bathroom. You hear the sink turn on, and close your eyes for a second. You just needed a moment to collect your thoughts.
When you open them again, you're covered with a blanket. Your favorite slip has somehow made it onto your body...and your favorite man is peering curiously at you from his spot on the bed. He's practically naked now, he has nothing but his boxers to cover him.
"What?"
"You've been asleep for some time. I've been waiting for you to wake up."
"How long?"
"Three hours."
"You've been sitting there for three hours?"
He nods curtly, and settles in beside you. "Come here. Let me hold you."
You shift closer, into his safe and comfortable arms. His breath rustles your hair, and his icy hands balance the slight fever that's come over you.
"I really do hate doing that," you shudder.
"I know. It's a big responsibility."
You sigh, and nuzzle into his fridged chest. "What does it taste like?"
He combs his fingers through your hair while he thinks.
"Like candy."