(no subject)
(Day 7)
L watches him sleep.
Light has a feeling that L has always watched him sleep, but the difference is that now, when they are sharing the same bed, it’s harder to mask the jolt of surprise every time he turns around to find L peering at him from upside down like a giant bat, wide eyes fixed on his.
It’s easier to counter, though; easier for Light to grip L's wrist by the end of his handcuff chain where he has propped his chin to stare at him, and tug it gently out from under him so that L falls forward.
He is so thin that his ribs feel like dull slivers of glass when he connects with Light's chest.
Light could kill him so easily. He could use his weight to hold L down while he smothered him. He could use the handcuff chain to cut off his oxygen supply when L tried to throw him off.
He suspects L's eyes wouldn't go any wider in death than they are now, fixed on him like searchlights in the dark of their solitary room.
He laughs dryly at the image; L's expression of solemn curiosity as he stares at Light doesn't change, but Light has the uncanny sensation of feeling like he’s just given himself away, that L knows everything that he’s seeing in his mind.
Light is used to the suspicion that L knows everything that’s going on in his head. He had thought this was a trait they had in common. Lately, when L's fingertips are tracing his spine after they've finished fucking, he's not so sure.
The knowledge irritates him into flipping L over, pinning him down. If L's not going to let either of them fucking sleep tonight, then he can at least make it worth Light's while to stay awake. And that's what he's doing anyway, isn't it? Making it worth Light's while to stay among them, a willing captive. They have seven days until Light returns to being officially under suspicion again, and even then L will never have enough proof to convict him. He knows that. They both do.
You crazy obsessed lunatic, Light thinks, and he lets out a smirk that has perhaps a bit too much self-awareness in it. L's expression stills, and he stretches out beneath Light like a sacrifice.
L never kisses Light like other people - his kisses are sloppy and unpolished and a bit like the rubbery wet taste of cold coffee. There is nothing picture-perfect about them. But each one of them is a victory Light has not yet gotten over savoring.
Each one of them carries him deeper into L's mind.
L's body is so frail and pliable Light can mold it to him any way he wants. L never murmurs a word, just follows Light as though he is perfectly content for Light to carve him up howsoever he chooses.
It shouldn't be good - not when L just lies there, still and unprotesting, and not when Light doesn't even like sex to begin with.
But it is good. And in the end, L is always the one who drives Light over the edge.
Perhaps because the look on L's face in orgasm isn't too different from the look that comes right before the death rattle, the look of terror as the owner of that face realizes they're dying. Perhaps because the need to push him there drives Light into a frenzy long before L.
Perhaps because L never stops studying him, and Light wants him to break before he comes - because it's L who is surrendering here, not Light, and it's L who needs to understand that he's not the one controlling this.
So tonight, when L reaches up to curve his fingertips over Light's jaw, to trace it almost experimentally, Light decides that he's not going to let L retain his illusion of control any longer.
L kisses him and he kisses back, slowly, working his tongue into L's mouth until he can taste L's soft gasps of pleasure before he hears them. L's erection is as sharp as the rest of him, and it feels just as good to have pinned beneath him, totally his to control. L's fingernails dig into his shoulders; his tree-frog legs wind around Light until his heels are digging into the back of Light's thighs as they push against each other. L demands more without ever saying a word, or abandoning his fixed, fascinated study of Light's face.
When he can sense L's heartbeat speeding up along with his own, Light pulls away - just enough for L to register his expression.
"Who are you looking for?" he asks in a whisper, tracing a finger over L's lips. He kisses L's forehead.
"Is it me you want fucking you? ...Or is it Kira?"
He kisses L's mouth.
And then he smiles.
L comes so hard that he is utterly in pieces, and Light has to fuck him twice just to put him back together.
He was wrong about those eyes, he thinks with satisfaction afterwards. They could widen even further.
(Day 8.)