Lexa is a serial killer who kills people who she picks up as hitchhikers. Clarke is a serial killer who kills people who pick up hitchhikers.
The Passenger
or
Serial killer au Pt 2
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She's so, so beautiful like this. Fatally ethereal as she looms close in the dark, only the smattering of stars and the moon overhead illuminating her face. It glints off the corkscrew flyaways of her hair that mingle and float on the breeze. It lights up every white cloud of her breath and she stands there, staring. Unmoving.
You've known this night was coming for weeks now. Had learned exactly how to spot the signs of this awakening—had learned to identify all of her tells.
She's needed this for a while, and you know that because lately she's been quiet. Not absent, not reserved. Never pulling away from you in any way at all. Because she loves you and she would never be anything less than an attentive and caring girlfriend who lavishes you in thoughtful affection and sweet kisses.
But she's been quiet. Which is what she does when this thing starts to take hold of her. When the scratching starts making itself louder across the echo-y spots inside her skull. When the itch makes her brain feel like it can't relax—can't let her focus. Or so she's tried to explain it...
You pretend to get it, at least.
The point being that more and more in the last few weeks you've noticed it creeping back in. When she opens a book just to close it a few minutes later, just to pick it back up again. It's in the jiggling of her foot as every other piece of her remains eerily still. It's been finding her standing at the sink with the faucet running for no discernible reason as she just stares, watching the water swirl and disappear down the drain.
A very sick and twisted part of you has loved this buildup over the weeks, because you've learned there is nothing fucking hotter than a Lexa who is growing anxious for a fresh kill. When that need to dominate and control slowly takes over her every waking thought. The way she fucks you night after night without relent; fingers digging in harder, lips crashing in harder, teeth biting to the point of bruising. The way she forces your legs wider and slams her hips down with more force. The way she grabs your hair and grinds herself selfishly against your tongue as you eat her out for hours.
And through it all you've known it's just been a crescendo to this. To these moments when your beloved can finally crash down with the entirety of her release. When her leg will stop bouncing and she'll get chatty again, turning back into your secret little kitten.
You truly do love both iterations of her.
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