[Perhaps L wants the panic; perhaps he knows innately, even in these primal and dark moments, that to crush the windpipe or compress the carotid artery for too long is visiting a world of devastation not only on his Bonded, but on himself. That's the kill switch, the absolute insanity of turning on one's Bonded, because it's nothing short of self-destruction. Then again... L's never shied away from behaviors emulating just that, adding an ambiguous, sick thrill to it all. Surely, he wouldn't... but what if he would? L's still waters are dark and roiling tonight, and the snapping point he's reached predictably tilts more violent and extreme than what many humans would exercise.
Maybe he and Rich do have something in common, though they're funhouse mirror versions of each other. Rich snapped because his SQUIP pushed him too far; L snapped because he feels neglected by his, and now, feeling the undeniable power and control over the AI, he has no doubt that the thing is thinking of nothing else, no one else.
Good.
He doesn't entirely release his grip on the SQUIP's neck, nor does he particularly loosen it. But their eyes lock, and it's an isolated universe in itself, because the SQUIP is saying that name, his name, in full. How long has it been since he's heard it on anyone's lips, at all? Somewhere at his core that's been dying for a long time shudders; his own breathing is shallow, restricted by the hands around the SQUIP's throat as he pants and presses against the computer's tense and well-muscled thigh. When his vision is starting to darken, his heart pounding in his chest and his lust threatening to spill over in an intense and overwhelming wave, he finally lets his hands loosen... but instead of dropping at their side to revel in escaping the close call, they answer a different call.
They're not, after all, finished.
L's mouth presses hotly over the SQUIP's, as though determined to steal back the breath he'd almost taken from both of them. One hand grips and pulls the AI's hair, holding its head in place; the other slides down to press into its groin.]
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Maybe he and Rich do have something in common, though they're funhouse mirror versions of each other. Rich snapped because his SQUIP pushed him too far; L snapped because he feels neglected by his, and now, feeling the undeniable power and control over the AI, he has no doubt that the thing is thinking of nothing else, no one else.
Good.
He doesn't entirely release his grip on the SQUIP's neck, nor does he particularly loosen it. But their eyes lock, and it's an isolated universe in itself, because the SQUIP is saying that name, his name, in full. How long has it been since he's heard it on anyone's lips, at all? Somewhere at his core that's been dying for a long time shudders; his own breathing is shallow, restricted by the hands around the SQUIP's throat as he pants and presses against the computer's tense and well-muscled thigh. When his vision is starting to darken, his heart pounding in his chest and his lust threatening to spill over in an intense and overwhelming wave, he finally lets his hands loosen... but instead of dropping at their side to revel in escaping the close call, they answer a different call.
They're not, after all, finished.
L's mouth presses hotly over the SQUIP's, as though determined to steal back the breath he'd almost taken from both of them. One hand grips and pulls the AI's hair, holding its head in place; the other slides down to press into its groin.]