L looks over at the man sharing his bed with a frown.
Light, who is deeply asleep, just shifts and moans something under his breath.
Now, it must be assumed that if you are under house arrest for suspicion of mass murder, and also happen to be gay, you may also be experiencing some sexual frustration. Combine that with being hand-cuffed to an extremely alert and observant insomniac with every last security camera swiveling in their corners to watch you—well, things are bound to start happening that you can't control.
This is L's theory, and why the detective has been trying to be somewhat empathetic towards Yagami Light. L has always had the advantage as far as tending to his own private needs. Being awake while the rest of the building sleeps always has its perks. So does having easy access to security footage in the morning—quiet editing is easy to do when you're the head of investigation.
But, empathy be damned, he wished Light didn't seem to always be having such hot and obviously gratifying dreams. It was especially hard when L himself had had a long day and actually wanted to dip into unconsciousness for a while. Listening to Light act out his fantasies made sleep difficult.
L had become aware of his own sexual preference soon after the… relationship… between himself and Light had begun. The detective wasn't a prodigy for nothing—he didn't need a spreadsheet to figure out that he was a homosexual, just like he knew Yagami Light was.
It was only natural that he had a "reaction" when listening to Light squirm and make little needy sounds to himself. It didn't mean there was any real attraction there—the very base wanting of Light's body for sexual acts was perfectly normal.
And he could stand it during the daytime, when everyone was watching. He could even stand it when the two showered together.
But now it was dark, and L had been planning to masturbate sometime between the hours of two and four in the morning. Light's dream was, however, disrupting L's schedule. He knew what he wanted to do—but—
Light groaned and rolled over onto his side, now facing L. The sleeping young man had his hands firmly between his legs but didn't seem to have developed the ability to work himself off while unconscious. How L wished that he had.
"Mmm—" a moan fell from Light's mouth. "No… Ryu—don't tease—"
This was a new development—hearing his own name spoken, causing the named one to infer that he was involved in the dream—one that L was not prepared for. He couldn't possibly resist now, could he? (Specifically, did he want to?)
It would make Light shut up, gratify the both of them, and allow L some peace and quiet.
Probability that Yagami-kun will sleep through it is at eighty-one percent.
L's brain stopped him from thinking any further on the matter, instead encouraging him to 'make Light shut up' using whatever means necessary.
The detective kicked back the bedcovers and pushed them to the very edge of the mattress. He sat up slowly and moved awkwardly on his hands and knees to kneel beside the sleeping teenager.
Light rolled back over on his back, twitching restlessly. His hands traveled up his body to clutch at his pillow on either sides of his head. The loose dark t-shirt he usually wore as pajamas had ridden up, further revealing his hard-on through the weird little short boxer things he always wore.
Long, pale fingers hesitantly prodded Light's erection. This only evoked an almost unnoticeable shudder—not what L was going for, if he wanted to get this over with quickly.
So, deciding to go with what he knew about his own preferences, L slid his hand around to hold Light's cock through the teen's underwear, rubbing his thumb over the damp spot at the peak of the cloth tent.
The response was almost immediate. Light's hands clenched into the pillow, hips rolling upwards to meet L's palm. The delicious noise that slips from between his lips sends a flash of heat to the detective's groin.
Probability that Yagami-kun will sleep through this is at eighty-four percent.
Or maybe L's wrong—the blood going to his hard-working brain is starting to reverse direction, flowing towards his penis instead—but nobody cares about calculations when there's a needy brunette holding your attention.
As Light arches up towards L's hand again, the dark-haired man quickly tugs down the boy's boxer shorts. The cool air only seems to make Light's hard-on stand even straighter, flushed the same lewd red as his face and dripping with pre-come.
In some perverse sort of way, L can vaguely compare this to having his favorite sort of candy in front of him. Only this sweet is untried (and untested, there definitely being some chance that it'd come from a factory in which it may or may not have been coated with some poisonous chemical before being sold). Very tempting, with possibly nasty repercussions—but L doesn't care enough to think on that further.
Completely on instinct, he leans down and takes Light into his mouth. The boy is average-sized, but porn .avi's aren't the best way to learn Blowjobs 101.
Still, L's not a genius for nothing. He manages not to bite or choke, even finds himself growing accustomed to the odd (sadly not sugary) taste of cock. It's strange, but it seems to be feeding his own hard-on, and he has to reach a hand back to fumble with the fly of his jeans in search of some relief.
And all the while Light is growing more vocal, arcing like he's having some sort of (kind of sexy) seizure. L has to hold down his hips as best he can with one hand to stop the brunette from trying to shove his member down the detective's esophagus.
L has his own cock in his hand now, beginning to stroke himself towards gratification. He decides, through the foggy lust-haze clouding his reasoning, that he should pull back a bit from Light now, because surely he's going to come any second. He pulls back gently but not entirely away, spending a few precious moments drawing his tongue over Light's tip.
A shudder runs through Light's body and he cries out as L takes his mouth completely off of him, and before L can react Light's come is splattering on his face.
The detective recoils an instant later, thankfully noting that most of the ejaculate landed on Light's stomach. He's almost smiling, even pausing his ministrations to himself to savor the victory.
Probability that Yagami-kun slept through that is
is
Shit.
Those eyes, sharp and intelligent and accusing as hell are staring him down.
Light sat up straight, somehow dignified despite being covered in his own come. He's flushed, sweaty, panting. Obviously trying to fight that post-come contentment. He doesn't seem to notice that he's completely naked. Or that he's still halfway erect.
"Ryuuzaki," he breathes.
And for a second, L thinks maybe Light's about to thank him, or roll over and go back to sleep, but then there's a fist flying towards his eye that he really has to block rightnow.
Light leaps at him, snarling curses and nasty insults.
L lets him. L lets him pin him to the bed, even allows himself to be punched once or twice—though not hard, he doesn't think bruises are a fair payment for his services. He just smiles a little, calmly agrees to the derogatory things Light's saying about his ancestors. All the while noting how very hard Light is now.
Finally, when Light pauses for breath, L speaks.
"Hypocrite," he murmurs, and slides his knee up so it rubs against Light's cock.
Light gasps, breathes in and out harshly, almost to the point of hyperventilating. He may be pissed as hell, but his penis is amiable as can be. And, though it looks like he's trying, he can't pull away from the delicious friction of L's jeans.
L watches, a slow smirk spreading across his face, as Light's eyes flutter closed, lips parting softly. He's got a girl's mouth, a girl's eyelashes. It's oddly attractive.
"God damn … you … bastard … stupid bastard!" Light shouts at him, and his eyes are full to overflowing with shame and wanting and rage.
L just smirks and moves his knee a bit.
Light gasps again and his arms give out. He collapses against L, his ass sticking ridiculously (and lewdly) up in the air because his lower half is trapped against L's bent leg. His growl of frustration turns into a moan as he begins to rub himself against L, and maybe it hurts a little but it feels good and he doesn't want to but he needs this, he hasn't masturbated in ages and he's sexually frustrated, goddamnit!
The detective feels Light's hands grab hold of his shirt, hears the boy making all sorts of dirty noises as he works himself off. He doesn't mind it in the slightest—it's sort of like porn, only infinitely better. He slips his hand down and starts to pleasure himself again (after all, he hasn't even come once and Light's all ready close again).
It's not just fact that someone's humping his leg that makes this so enjoyable. There are little sensations he's noticing—the tightening and relaxing of Light's grip on his shirt, the way his shoulders are hunched and his face turned into L's chest, his silky hair brushing against L's collarbone. And his breathing, so unsteady, and—
Light comes with a muffled groan, hips finally slowing their frenzied pace.
And for some reason, as L's still touching himself, he sees that Light's ears have turned bright red—and that's what makes him come, that's then the orgasm overtakes him—makes him shake and sigh and make both of them even stickier with seed.
They're both spent. Exhausted. Apparently Light can't even bring himself to move from his resting place against L. He's a little heavy but L doesn't have the strength to shove him off.
"Why did you—" Light starts, voice husky from the exertion.
L interrupts. "Did you have a nice dream?"