(no subject)
(Day 9)
Light moves in for the kill, for the little death.
He drags his fingers over L’s waist in hallways. He curves around him where they shower and licks the shell of his ear. He has all but permanently shortened the chain between them during meetings, meals, morgue inspections. His body knows L’s now. He knows how to make L’s breath quicken in public, just by changing his tone of voice, or the angle of his smile.
He teases. L lets him.
He’s blowing L against the wall, L pressed against it, his body thrusting up into Light’s mouth in awkward, jerky movements. This is Light’s favorite lately: L’s back flat, his whole body spread for him, breath coming in short, sharp shudders as Light sucks him off. Light can control him this way, hands cradling L’s ass while bony fingers clutch at strands of his hair. He can feel L trembling all over when he moves - he’s gotten extremely good at it, sucking cock - but L still won’t come on command. After a while he pulls Light up in order to taste himself on Light’s mouth, but Light, sure of himself now, pulls away.
“Kira wouldn’t kiss you like this,” he says, holding L’s gaze. L is the only person who’s ever sized him up like this, in the middle of sex. Light had tugged him into their bedroom earlier, cutting short their meeting with the other investigators and declaring that the kettle-black circles under L’s eyes had gotten worse. You need to rest, Ryuzaki, he had claimed, oh so sincerely. Then he’d clawed fingers up L’s waist, tearing off his sweater before the door had fully shut, and they’d ended up here, clothes scattered on the floor and L’s bones poking into him all over, L staring at him mistrustfully.
“Kira would be a convincing lover,” L says in response, his voice a bit ragged. “He would have to be in order to accomplish gaining the trust of so many in order to-“
“Shut up,” Light says.
L shuts up.
His chest is pale and smooth to the touch.
“Can’t you,” Light says, dragging his fingernails over L’s skin, “ever take your mind off him?”
L just stares at him.
Light pushes him against the bed and kisses him. He can feel the percentages spiraling upwards, unspoken on L’s tongue as he pushes back. He lifts L’s chin up and wraps L’s frail limbs around him - he is still hard, and L has never complained before when he has been rough.
L’s whole body contorts when Light moves inside of him, his fingers curving pinpricks into Light’s shoulders. Light pushes his hips up and L tightens his legs around Light’s waist. They have been fucking for days but Light hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. L’s body is too pliant, too easy to mold around his own, body too warm beneath all that stillness.
“I want you to concentrate on me,” he hisses.
"You mean," responds L, his voice hoarse but surprisingly controlled, "on the serial killer who is fucking me? I will try."
“No, you asshole,” snaps Light, digging his fingernails into L’s sides as he fucks him, and he wants to remind L that he’s Light, it’s Light who’s fucking him and L should at least try to act like he believes it - and then L arches upward and pulls Light down against him, curving into him on a deep sigh, his toes curling into Light’s spine, and all he has room for is god and a memory of L smiling at him, their fingers not-quite touching across the desk, before he thinks No and shoves the memory down where it is buried beneath Kira, and desire, and L’s heart throbbing against his chest.
(Day 10.)