Grip. Tighter.
The sheets between his fingers are barely enough to grasp onto, barely a clutch to hold to keep him from slipping into delirium. You can't enjoy this too much.
But then, you can't not.
The detective bites down on his lip to keep from crying out; in pleasure, in shame, in defeat. It's pure, animalistic instinct that keeps him allowing Beyond into his room for this whenever the psychotic pleases. The sex is unbelievable. It's the only sex L has ever had. The only sex he'll need.
His partner's glistening lips are open just a bit now, just enough to slip his own tongue into if only the seme would crane down and provide him the kiss he wanted far too badly. But they wouldn't kiss tonight. They barely ever did. A kiss was more than physical lust, and they had all they could do to convince themselves that lust was all it was. It was a battle fought alone on both sides, simultaneous torture.
An extremely forceful thrust, harder than the last, signifies that Beyond can tell L is drifting off and getting lost in his own mind, and pain will be his punishment. The detective tries not to yell out in excrutiation as the younger man moves harder. The pain is welcome, though; L hopes it makes it convincing that he isn't enjoying one bit of this.
A hand pins his head down as it grips the detective's locks firmly. L arches his back a bit and his chest briefly makes contact with his partner's. The shock of their skin touching is fleeting but intense and L shudders a bit. Beyond moans, but tries to pretend he didn't feel it too.
These encounters used to be rare. But they're growing closer and closer together now. L could only pretend it was rape for so long. Now, it's clear he enjoys it, but neither party will admit it. They never speak of it. Beyond simply knocks on the detective's door in the very ungodly hours of the morning, and when he answers, the psychotic doesn't waste time in pushing him down roughly onto the bed and having his way, and even as the door is just opening the detective can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his temples.
L's mind races as he tries to think. They've been at it for about... twenty seven minutes.
They've only kissed a few times. It's a sign of weakness. Neither of them will be here forever, and they both know it's pointless to get attached. But this night, L feels a strange, uncontrollable need for... what? The thrill of it? That's not it, but he'd rather lie to himself.
He touches the seme's chest, and Beyond's eyes open slightly in irritation at the disturbance. He can see the need in L's eyes, and a deep desire in him is stirred. He whispers between breaths, and it's low and raspy. "You know the rules."
L gasps in pleasure as he's delved into again and again, then finally gets a breath to plea. "Beyond." He's too proud to say it.
The psychotic hesitates, then leans down and captures L's lips and kisses him frantically, apathetic as to how much he's revealing in his desperation. Their tongues dance together, their hearts beating in the dark. L holds onto Beyond, and as the seme looks down at the detective, faint moonlight catches in his crimson eyes.
When it's over, Beyond is nearly silent, save for a soft gasp as he spills into his partner. L shudders as B withdraws from him. He sits up and watches in silence as the dominant man gathers his clothes and redresses.
Before he leaves, Beyond takes L's chin in his hand and kisses him roughly. He shouldn't, but he can't help it. The detective looks beautiful, moonlight illuminating his pale flesh and his eyes round and dark, glistening.
Ghost letters float above his head, unbeknownst to their owner. "L Lawliet."
Obsession.
Emotion is rare. But sometimes, he hates to leave when it's over.