FicWad

Just because you can touch it doesn't mean it's real.

That's something Leon learned the hard way. He'd spent two years around D and his murderous pets, and people who would swear blind that the monster fish they bought was the spitting image of their wife. Or hell, was their wife.

Just because you can touch it doesn't mean it's real.

Being able to ruffle the kid's hair didn't stop it being a red setter puppy. Being able to pick Pon-chan up and feel silk and ribbons didn't stop her being a racoon.

Just because you can touch it doesn't mean it's real.

He can't really get rid of the thought, even now, with D plastered to the bed beneath him, his mouth hot and wet and his body solid -

Just because you can touch it -

Even with D's too-long nails raking down his back and drawing blood, even with his teeth sinking into Leon's shoulder as Leon grinds their hips together -

Just because you can -

Even with his hand wrapped around D's fucking cock, with D shaking and gasping and sobbing "Mister Detective" and "Please" and "Leon" or strangled words in Chinese -

It doesn't mean it's real.

The body sprawled out on the bed beneath him, warm and languid and pressing dazedly apologetic kisses against his jaw didn't prove that any of this was real.

It didn't prove that it wasn't, either.