A/N: PWP torture porn, with nary a regard for canon anything. This is apparently how I deal with frustration these days. Which is worrisome.
Demon
Reluctant footsteps echo up the open stairwell, in an abandoned building, in a deserted neighborhood. The perfect place for the perfect crime.
"So, you came."
The voice is cold, matter-of-fact, purposeful. And horrifying. This is the voice of a killer. A heartless, mortifyingly brilliant killer. A killer who has won everything.
And L has lost. He knows. The slump of his shoulders is more pronounced than usual, his eyes invisible beneath the curtain of shaggy black hair. He has given up. The mere fact that he is here is proof of that. Not that he would ever admit it in words. Not that he needs to.
There was no option except for L to come here, to this barren, empty place, at this time, on this night. He had gambled with others' lives enough in the past, but he cannot afford to gamble now. Not these lives. His friends, his protégés, his…children. Kira had found out about them, and forced his hand. An exchange could be made. Tit for tat.
"Yes, Kira, I came," L growls, voice full of hate. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? I've kept my side of the deal, now keep yours."
Kira grins, an evil sight, a glorious sight. "Of course. Your precious cohorts will live. For now, anyway."
"Will they?" Ryuzaki sighs, more than a trace of doubt lacing his words.
"You have my word," comes the reply, smooth as oil and green as poison.
L scowls even deeper. His voice sounds like sandpaper.
"And what good is the word of a demon?" He snarls, looking his nemesis dead in the eye.
They stare at each other, L and Kira, law and lawbreaker, man and would-be god, justice and "justice." And slowly, Light approaches. And grasps L's chin, lifting his face up. And slaps him, hard, across the face with his other hand. And watches him slump to the ground. Watches him hurt.
"I'm a demon, am I?" he queries, malignant grin turning to threatening frown.
"Of that I have no doubt," L replies, not missing a beat.
Light strikes him again, from the other side, and just as hard. Ryuzaki's face stings on both sides, but he continues to stare at Light, pushing every ounce of hatred out of his expression alone. He spits in Light's face.
Struck again, from the left. And the right again. Shoved to the ground and kicked.
Light wipes the saliva from his cheek, then wipes his hand on his pant leg.
"If I am a demon, then I can do whatever I want with you. You're just a mortal, and I'm going to be god."
"Also wrong," L shoots back, not to be daunted by pain. "You're going to be dust, just like everyone else. You will be remembered only as an insane mass murderer, and then you will be forgotten."
Instead of lashing out again, Light moves slowly to take L by the arm. He twists it painfully behind the detective's back, turning him around, pulling him half to his feet. From his lopsided position, L can feel Light's breath against his ear, and something unpleasant prods his back.
"Is that so?" Light whispers murderously. He begins pushing L toward the end of the dark grey room, toward some poorly lit contraption of leather and chains. He ties L's hands in place, leaving him to stand there with his arms pulled into the air, his body forced into an awkward "Y" shape. L does not resist; cannot resist. He knows this is part of the deal.
"Forget this," Light finishes, and then the lashes come.
Crack. A bolt of searing pain across L's back. He cries out once, but only once. He grits his teeth.
Snap. The whip slashes him again, but he makes no noise. He won't give Light the satisfaction.
Again, the lash stings him. And again. And again. He feels it tear through the fabric of his shirt, and raise long welts on his skin. And still he makes no noise, no plea for mercy.
He loses count of how many times the whip strikes him. It doesn't matter now. His whole back is on fire; if he could feel, he's sure there would be trickles of blood leaking from the whorls the beating has left on his back.
His silence is clearly getting to Light, who stops the attack, finally.
"Nothing to say, Ryuzaki?" he baits.
Nothing, indeed.
Moments later, the stinging cuts on his skin feel as if they have been set aflame. This time, L does cry out. The fire is invading his skin, burning into him. A caustic smell reaches his nose, and his head is swimming but he can recognize that smell, it's—
"Just a little rubbing alcohol," Light's voice gloats. "Want some more, L?"
L moans and flinches away from Light's hands, but to no use. Another wave of invasive pain hits him as Light splashes half the bottle of the stuff across his fresh cuts. L screams.
And Light laughs. Laughs to the unholy heavens, a disgusting sound, a victorious sound. His fingers tear the remnants of Ryuzaki's soggy shirt from his body, and L knows it's about to get worse. Much worse.
"You should thank me; I've just disinfected your wounds. Not that it'll do you a lot of good, in the end."
L keeps himself from panicking. It's far too late for that anyway.
"You could have simply killed me," Ryuzaki mutters in despair.
Light laughs again. "That would have been too easy. I don't just want to defeat you. I want to destroy you. Until there's nothing left."
Light's hands curl lustily around L's waist from behind, and L can feel his disgusting breath on his neck again.
"Fuck you," L groans, aiming a weak kick at Light's ankle. He misses, but he never expected to hit. He's disoriented from pain, off-balance and useless.
"No," Light grins back, slipping cruel hands to undo the zip on L's trousers. "Fuck you, L."
His pants are jerked down roughly, and Light grabs a handful of the other man's ass, squeezing the soft cheek until L lets out a pained growl. A dribble of oil-like substance flows down his cleft, some sort of lubrication—probably intended more for Yagami's benefit than for his.
"Is this your idea of justice?" L pants, refusing to back down even now. "Mass-murderer isn't a good enough title for you; you want to add 'rapist' to your rap sheet?"
"Not rape. Payback."
And he can feel it; a glowing hot presence right behind him at ass level; a conspicuously shaped rod of flesh pushing between his cheeks, pressing up against him, pressing in and in…but stopping just before the point of entrance.
"This is for the cameras, and the FBI agents, and the annoying tricks and tests, and having to spend every day chained to you, watching you flounder around in my footsteps, trying to thwart me and eating all that fucking cake. This is for the new world."
Light thrusts in, tearing him apart. All of the pain is inside him now, spreading apart his insides again and again, as Kira shoves himself in, deeper every time. L's legs go limp but Light catches him and pulls his hips hard and harder against him. Skin slaps on skin, relentlessly. The disgusting slapping and sucking noises echo off the walls, along with L's pained grunts and Light's terrifying, gasping laughter.
It goes on forever, that hardness moving inside him, ruining him, ravaging him, and Light's unrelenting laughs, though they blend more and more into heavy breathing as the minutes drag on.
And then, it stops. Light pauses inside of him, and L hears a rustle from behind him, like paper. And then a Death Note is shoved in front of his face, and he sees his fate in front of him.
"L Lawliet appears at the specified location at 7:50pm and meets with a suspect. At 8:45pm he returns to headquarters without revealing any evidence of what has happened to him, and retains no memories of the night's events, believing he is merely sick. The next day, announces his plan to investigate the second Kira and dies of a heart attack."
L chokes on his own air. His name…his real name is on that page. How could he possibly have known?! It is impossible for someone close to L to be so careless with that information. Then again, Light did somehow learn the names of several other Wammy orphans to use as collateral against L himself. And now he is going to die, and he cannot save anyone from Light anymore.
He slumps against the restraints, hopeless. Light's hot member is still in him, but he doesn't feel anymore.
"Have you given up, L?" Light asks almost playfully, pushing up inside him again. He thrusts against a sensitive spot, but L does not react. Cannot react. It's over.
Light thrusts again, harder this time. The same spot. Harder still. Harder and faster.
"Go on, L," Yagami chides. "Say you've lost, and I'll stop."
Never.
A hand tugs hard at L's hair, and L hisses in pain.
"Say it, you pussy!"
Never, never, never.
"What was that?"
L realizes he's been chanting the word under his breath, in rhythm with his violation. He raises his head, clears his throat.
"I said never. You will never win, Kira."
Light slows his pace a little. "How can you say that now?"
"You may have defeated me today, but I am not the last person who will own the name L."
Light chuckles in L's ear. "You're right, asshole. The next L will be me."
L shakes his head. If this is the last sane thought he has before the Death Note takes him over, he wants it to at least be a good one.
"You will die someday, Light. And when you do, I will be waiting. And then it will be my turn."
He doesn't know whether Light heard him or not. The murderer finally pulls out of him and finishes on the ground—better not to leave the DNA evidence inside the victim, after all—and pulls his trousers back on. Before turning to leave, Light releases the bonds on L's wrists and shoves him roughly to the ground. A clean, white shirt lands on the ground a few feet from him.
"Here. My gift to you for ripping your old one," Light sneers unbearably. "And clean yourself up. You look like shit." He glances at his watch. "8:30. I timed it just right."
L says nothing. He is drained, motionless on the concrete floor. He looks up in time to see the back of Light's head disappear as he heads down the stairs.
"Fuck you, Light Yagami," he rasps. "I'll see you in Hell."