Jim x Dwight One Shots

Scranton Strangler (5)

Jim wasn't sure when it became normalcy. Seeing dead bodies in his living room, sometimes watching Dwight commit the strangulation's and seeing him get back into bed or start cooking dinner right after like nothing unusual had happened. 

He told himself he had to be like this. He had to be numb and pretend that what Dwight was doing was okay, so that Jim wouldn't go insane or worse become a Scranton Strangler victim himself. 

As the months crept by, the murders increased, the franticness of trying to find the Scranton Strangler reached a new level of panic. 

While laying in bed, Jim pressed small, open mouthed kisses on Dwight's chest. Both were cuddled close to one another, the chill evening air making them seek the warmth from one another. 

"Dwight?" Jim apprehensively asked, tilting his head up to look at Dwight. 

"Jim" Dwight responded, giving a small smile to Jim, but a warning look was in his eyes.

Jim ducked down, his hands replacing his mouth to rub soothing patterns into Dwight's skin. 

"Do you think maybe you can take a break?" Jim asked, his voice small and unsure. 

"The police are all over the place, maybe lay low?" Jim finally looked up after saying this, looking into Dwight's face. 

"I guess I can" Dwight contemplated. Jim let out a surprised sigh of relief, a smile reaching his face. 

"Yeah? Really?" Jim asked excitedly, pressing himself closer to Dwight, finally feeling relief for the first time in a while. 

"Of course Jim" Dwight said, running his fingers through Jim's hair. 

"Anything for you" Dwight whispered, a possessive tug on Jim's hair that had Jim's eyes fluttering shut. 

He wasn't really sure when he became comfortable with the murders. His dreams were bathed in memories of the murders that Dwight had committed, except it wasn't his victims. It was Jim, that Dwight was strangling. 

Evil laughs leaving his mouth as he strangled Jim's neck, Dwight wallowing in the glory of Jim succumbing to him. 

Jim never fought back in his dreams though. He had a hazy look in his eyes, either from the lack of oxygen or from lust. 

Jim wasn't sure which one it was, but he was fearful it was the latter. 

He surprised himself when he lifted his body up from the couch where he was watching the murder and walk behind Dwight. 

His arm covered Dwight's, his hand interlacing with Dwight's. Jim's pale, long fingers were a stark contrast to Dwight's leathered hands. 

"What's wrong?" Dwight asked, turning to look at Jim and temporarily forgetting the writhing man in front of him. 

"I want to do it with you" Jim said, his face nervous, but his voice determined. 

"Sure" Dwight stuttered, for the first time in his life he was truly stunned. The love of his life was killing a man with him. Arms over arms, hands over hands that they wrapped around their victim together and squeezed. 

The life draining out of the man, but they only had eyes for one another as they heard the man take one last gasp and then collapse.