A/N: This one-shot is written for Markus Ramikin as an extension of his brilliant ficlet, A Shinigami's Choice. There's also slight sexual content, hence the M rating. It's not raunchy, but it's still pretty explicit.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

Note: AU; L has bonded with Misa in the aftermath of Kira's defeat.

A Midas Touch

If there was just one thing that Misa positively adored about him, it was the way he handled her: reverently, curiously, boldly. Despite her romantic affiliations with the deceased man she had worshipped as Kira, Misa was a stranger to such sensuality. For one thing, it was pure. It was genuine and sincere, designed to please unconditionally while expecting nothing in return.

L was gluttonous, greedy, selfish.

But with Misa, he was far from it.

The detective's unpracticed yet naturally skilled hands spoke volumes where his massive brain and extensive vocabulary failed to do so. And as they kissed little by little, removed her – just hers – articles of clothing one by one, and fell on top of the covers side by side, all Misa could think of was Ryuzaki's white palms, his slender fingers, their smooth knuckles, and the way he easily deducted from the gentle guiding pushes she gave his wrists what she really wanted, what she eagerly desired.

It was astounding, almost unthinkable. Pop idol Misa Amane – with not a hair out of place or a head left unturned – was in awe of who had to be the most isolated and eccentric man on the face of the planet. She found his brand of inexperience breathtaking, and his tenderness with her even more so.

His hands, his hands.

Ryuzaki touched her like an archeologist would a precious artifact, touched her as though her skin was worth thousands, if not millions. He touched her like Light, Golden Boy Light, never had. L touched her with an experimental air, like a scientist in a child's body (or vice versa). She loved the attention, but it was his fulfillment she craved.

As a third party, Misa had also witnessed L's other side – his raw, brute force. She could very clearly recall the way he had tossed her former lover (a long stretch, perhaps) around the lounge of her private suite, the way Ryuzaki's limbs had lashed out oh-so effortlessly against Light's as they battled like lions. His clenched fists had been nothing but a striking blur of motion, artful and dangerous.

This was dangerous. It always had been.

Officially, Misa had made the first move; crying on Ryuzaki's shoulder didn't count.

She had been the one to reach for his hand, to soothe the yearning and affirm the connection she had felt between them in that bursting moment of mutual understanding. It had been neither cold nor clammy, as one would expect from a person who had his hands stuffed into his jeans' pockets or flittering across computer keyboards every waking minute. But he had trembled like an infant, like a schoolboy who had never been with a girl, let alone one of Misa's stature.

And then their fingers had entwined, securing the unspoken promise between them. These were the very fingers that had sent countless criminals to their doom, Kira included. Their devastating power had calmed her initially, then seduced and intoxicated her.

It had stirred her blood and thrilled her broken but mending heart –

– just as this did.

Although L was inexperienced, he was definitely not talentless. Misa let out a cry of bliss when two of said beautiful appendages slid home, working their way inside her like those of a masterful harpist. The young woman did not dare to move for fear of disturbing the steady coiling of heat and sheer gratification rolling through her body, through her ass, up her stomach and collecting at the peaks of her exposed breasts. Misa could only breathe – gasp – as Ryuzaki plunged his fingers deeper but slower into her moist flesh, never taking his dark eyes off hers.

He was so gentle, painfully gentle. Sometimes too gentle.

Ryuzaki's other hand found her hair. He tugged and stroked at the strands like musical strings, weaving magic and striking chords into the base of the petite blonde's skull. The fact that he was already so familiar with her weak spots made Misa smile; L could play her fluently and ingeniously, and she relished each second of it here in the peace of her bedroom. She liked the knowledge that she was the only person that the reclusive detective had ever been with on an intimate level, the only girl that he had ever chanced stolen moments with. Even without his world-renowned title hanging over his head, he was unquestionably a rare specimen.

What was he? Twenty? Twenty-five? And still a virgin, according to Watari, until she had come along.

She, of all people, was worth his time. Misa Amane was the mystery, the enigma, the puzzle that L liked to solve then reassemble over and over again. She was quite sure he would never tire of her, and she of him. Misa could see it in the paradox that was L's visage – the splendidly human canvas of contradictions, of delight and frustration, leisure and impatience, innocence and sin.

Misa noisily pleaded for a kiss, and Ryuzaki obliged her. Each nibble grew more insistent and deliberate and creative than the last; the older man even managed to coordinate the timing of his slick tongue to match the two-fingered thrusts below them. They were both panting now; Misa's mind was already whiting out from this single but not-so-simple act of foreplay.

Damn, he was good.

Then again, L was good at everything. He had swept her transgressions underneath the proverbial rug, earned the trust of the Shinigami Rem, and saved Misa from herself. He had performed miracles upon miracles. Gone was her prior immature infatuation with Light Yagami. Gone was the guilt of innumerable but forgotten deaths – she was a victim too, said Rem, said Ryuzaki. Yes, this logic had been comforting, relieving, and most importantly, convincing.

L was her god now.

No, not god.

King.

And for that, for the first (but certainly not last) time that night, Misa hailed his name a split-second before it hit her, before she shuddered and melted, melted, melted into pure liquid gold.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my first lemon! I decided to release this outside of "Mosaic" because of its rating and different style, but rest assured, your requests are well on their way. It's good to be back, albeit temporarily. Midterm season was hell x_x

Also, as the back story was written in the context of A Shinigami's Choice, I strongly urge L/Misa fans to check it out, along with those who have always wanted to see L outwit Light in a plausible and epic way. Here, the timeline/lapse was intentionally vague. I was aiming for half-fluff, half-development ^_^

Thanks for reading. Feedback is much appreciated :)