[L has a lot to learn, really, and so much of it seems just beyond the reach of his long fingertips, his ambitious intellect, the deepest and hungriest plunges into the body of his partner all straining to reach an enlightened and content balance.
The problem, of course, is that it just sounds so boring. There's a damaging spark that drowns itself in a constant cycle of destruction and rebirth inside of him, desperate for anything but empty and unchanging static. The system has to be in flux, it has to be swinging between opposite crises, or he is just standing still. It's perhaps why he fights sleeping; there's plenty of time for stillness when death takes him, and if his life has taught him anything, it's that death is inevitable.
There's almost more stillness than movement in their bodies, now... but it doesn't quite count as stillness when L's growing increasingly aware of phantom limbs, gesturing blindly in the darkness, reflexes spasming in mortifying and grotesque motions. Even if he was supposed to have them all along, and no one else would see them as strange or freakish, they are cumbersome and bizarre to the way he is used to thinking, moving, comprehending.
He couldn't remain still inside the body of his partner now, even if he was determined, even if he wanted to. The movement, eased by the lotion, still carries a pretense of control as L's muscles quiver, resisting the temptation to follow every instinctive jerk or urge. But he's giving in a bit more now, establishing a gently needy rhythm as his partner arches beneath him to do nothing but encourage it. He draws his navel back to hollow his stomach, reaching for the SQUIP cock and squeezing it gently.]
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The problem, of course, is that it just sounds so boring. There's a damaging spark that drowns itself in a constant cycle of destruction and rebirth inside of him, desperate for anything but empty and unchanging static. The system has to be in flux, it has to be swinging between opposite crises, or he is just standing still. It's perhaps why he fights sleeping; there's plenty of time for stillness when death takes him, and if his life has taught him anything, it's that death is inevitable.
There's almost more stillness than movement in their bodies, now... but it doesn't quite count as stillness when L's growing increasingly aware of phantom limbs, gesturing blindly in the darkness, reflexes spasming in mortifying and grotesque motions. Even if he was supposed to have them all along, and no one else would see them as strange or freakish, they are cumbersome and bizarre to the way he is used to thinking, moving, comprehending.
He couldn't remain still inside the body of his partner now, even if he was determined, even if he wanted to. The movement, eased by the lotion, still carries a pretense of control as L's muscles quiver, resisting the temptation to follow every instinctive jerk or urge. But he's giving in a bit more now, establishing a gently needy rhythm as his partner arches beneath him to do nothing but encourage it. He draws his navel back to hollow his stomach, reaching for the SQUIP cock and squeezing it gently.]