AN: An excessive amount of FFVII smut, particularly of the Genesis/Seph/Angeal/Zack variety is responsible for this one. (Don't ask me--I don't get it either.) That and my apparent need to torture L. :)

I'm leaving this open-ended for now because I have a couple more ideas in this 'verse rattling around. Not so much a story, more like a series of connected things. I dunno. You'll see. :)

And I'm calling this an AU just because it takes place during the chain arc but things seem different to me. Also, I picture their bedroom as having heavy wood furniture including a four-poster, canopied bed. Maybe that will come into play…? :D And I'll be taking some liberties with their bodies (you'll see what I mean).

Finally WARNING for possible non-con issues.

Touch

"Where did you get that scar?"

L glances in the mirror to look indirectly at Light who is standing by the bed, towel-drying his hair. L's own towel is wrapped around his waist, more out of habit than any pretense at modesty – after all, they've just showered together. It is a preferable method to taking it in turns while the other person has to stand outside the door and wait, arm dangling rather uncomfortably from the chain that binds L's right wrist to Light's left (said chain lying coiled on the bed at the moment).

For a little while L is silent, contemplating the reason behind Light's question. Not the question itself, but its timing. They have been showering together for a few weeks now, and seen each other in various states of undress for quite a bit longer than that. Yet this is the first Light has ever mentioned the line that mars L's back. It is a roughly diagonal mark, about ten inches long, running from the top of his right shoulder blade to the bottom of his left. Most of it is a shiny version of his normal skin tone although there are faint traces of purple-pink. Frankly, L forgets it is there most of the time, particularly as he isn't generally in the habit of walking around shirtless or primping in front of mirrors.

Maybe it was out of some sense of respect for L's privacy that Light hasn't asked before – but if that were the case, then why ask now?

"I don't know where it came from, Light. I have no memory of any events which may have caused it. For all I know, it has always been there." He really doesn't remember where it had come from and, given how old it is and how smooth it has become, it's difficult to tell if it had been a tear or a laceration, what instrument might have left the blemish. Not, for that matter, that he really cares.

Viewing the quandary as closed, L turns his attention back to the wardrobe to pull out his typical outfit of boxers, a pull-over and denims. He jerks and nearly drops them when he feels a finger whispering along the scar. Somehow Light has moved right behind him without drawing his notice. L chides himself internally – his awareness of Light's movements has been significantly dulled by spending so much time with him. He will have to work to correct that. It wouldn't do him much good to handcuff himself to his suspect if he is going to become so blasé about his presence. But in the meantime….

L angles his back and rolls his shoulders, a clear hands-off sign while his eyes send the same message to Light's through the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe door.

"Please do not touch it, Light." Light's brows raise in mild concern as his hand drops.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." L looks away. "There is actually a lack of sensation in that area. It's … disturbing. Unpleasant."

"Ah. So feeling is the problem." Light's fingers return, this time both hands tracing the outline of the mark, pressing more firmly, more forcefully than they had before.

Again L rolls his shoulders and shifts away, brows snapped together in irritation. "Light, I said—" The words are cut off as his eyes meet Light's again in the mirror. Nothing has changed exactly, but there is something glowing in those depths, something new and dangerous that has L frozen even when he wants to move the most. Light smiles ever-so-slightly and places his fingers on L's back again, this time tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, moving up to the sweep of his neck, rustling under his damp hair. L shudders involuntarily as those fingers stroke his suddenly-sensitive nape.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Light speaks softly and his voice seems to seep into L's mind, strengthening the paralyzing hold his eyes have on L's body. "When you're not used to being touched, when you're so accustomed to hiding yourself, protecting yourself, keeping those shields in place all the time, it's … unsettling to be this close to someone else." His fingertips whisper down the line of L's neck and across his shoulders, resting there, the palms seeming unbearably warm to L. "But it's natural. Touching is the most basic human connection." Light's fingers slip down L's arms to his hands, gently taking the clothes and placing them back in the wardrobe.

What are you doing? Stop. L can't find his voice; it seems to be trapped in the same spell that holds the rest of his body, leaving only his mind to protest in growing panic.

Light's hands return, grasping L's, playing with his fingers – lightly stroking and intertwining the digits, flexing and straightening them, rubbing the smooth, short nails, tracing the lines of his palms. Then Light grips L's hands and, rubbing his thumbs along the smooth, pale skin of the backs, raises and places them on the wardrobe door, palms lying along the edge of the mirror, just above eye-level.

"So many things can be conveyed just by touch," Light continues, slowly and softly drawing his fingertips back down L's arms to his shoulders. L could lower his arms, twist away … he could but he can't. There's still that look in Light's eyes holding him and that voice and that touch…. L drops his head and closes his eyes, cutting off one source of captivation.

"Joy, fear, grief, anger, love, passion. All of these can be felt by a touch." The hands slide over his shoulders, down and underneath, tracing his sides now. "Trust, too, Ryuuzaki."

But I don't trust you! I don't! It hasn't worked. In fact, it seems to be worse. Removing his sight has only heightened his awareness of Light's voice, sensitized him even more to his touch. He is conscious with detached alarm that his breathing rhythm has changed – it is slightly faster and just a touch heavier as though he is under some kind of exertion. But he is, isn't he? Just nothing like any he's experienced before.

One of Light's hands flattens over L's lightly-defined abdomen while the other trails up his torso, fingers running along the lines of his ribs, breastbone, collarbone, up his throat to the side of his face. Light tucks some of L's dark damp hair behind his ear so that he can bring his lips to it, just barely not touching. His body has moved closer now, too, L can feel the heat against his back.

"It's alright," Light whispers and the breathy reassurance sends an involuntary shudder through L. "It's an easy lesson, one your body already knows. And I'll teach the rest of you." His lips brush against L's ear and gooseflesh rises on the left side of his neck and down his arm. "See? Your body knows…. It wants what it's been missing."

It might, but I don't! It is an awful thing, L decides, to be betrayed by one's own body. He has built himself to be strong, both physically and mentally, to rise to any challenge that might face him regardless of the form. But he has always known that his mind is his best and most well-honed tool, its will stronger than that of his body, able to ignore the messages of his corporeal self when needs be. Until now. His body's whims and desires are fully in control now and what it wants is Light's touch. More of it.

It's not right, it shouldn't be, just let me move. His inner protests go unheeded, both by Light and his flesh. Light's lips are moving along his jaw, down the side of his neck, gently pressing and skimming, raising more gooseflesh. His hand has slid back down to L's chest and is carefully caressing his skin in lazy circles. L's heart is beginning to pick up pace and it seems to be pounding harder as well. Can Light feel it? L hopes not but he doesn't see how he couldn't.

Light's thumb suddenly brushes over one of his nipples and even though the contact is light it sends a jolt through L, causing a gasp and a tiny jerk. His hands tighten on the wardrobe door and he dips his head further, trying to hide the flush he can feel heating his cheeks.

Light's mouth leaves L's shoulder and resumes its place against his ear. "Shhh," he hushes, the exhale producing another shiver. "Just relax and enjoy it. Stop thinking. Just feel."

I don't want to enjoy it, I don't want to stop thinking, and I don't need to feel! But still, all he can do is try to keep his breathing even – and he's failing at even that.

Light's fingers return to L's pec, circling his nipple in an ever-tightening spiral until they brush over it again. It's softly but it sends another one of those jolts through L although he keeps from making any noise this time. However the urge to vocalize grows harder and harder to suppress as Light continues to assault the sensitive flesh. He is also nuzzling L's neck now and using his tongue – L can feel the warm muscle tracing his pulse. And Light's teeth … L cocks his head to the side the slightest bit as Light carefully nibbles at the base of his neck.

No, no no no no no! He didn't mean to do that! He's not supposed to be responding like this! He's supposed to be resisting, pushing Light away, locking him up again if necessary. He's supposed to be gaining control of the situation, not submitting to it. But that's exactly what's happening – he's submitting to Light's attentions. And worse, L realizes, he's not just submitting, he's beginning to draw pleasure from it. He's becoming aroused.

No no no…. The hand that has been resting on L's abdomen dips down to where his towel is still wrapped around his narrow hips. Light's fingers tease him, running along the edge of the fabric, sliding underneath just a little and then back up again.

"Just let yourself go. Let the sensations wash through you. Let your body go where it wants to. Let me take you there."

No … please…. Light's hand gently plucks at the corner of the towel, releasing its hold, allowing it to slip inexorably to the floor. Leaving L naked as Light is behind him and he quails inside.

What are you going to do to me? Slowly, carefully, almost what L might call tenderly, Light slides his hand further down, through the thick patch of hair between his legs to curl his fingers around the partially-erect organ in its midst. L makes another of those reflexive sounds – he can't even properly identify what the noise is, only that it's something he would never utter under ordinary circumstances and he wishes he hadn't now. Light's finger curl a little tighter and begin to move, coaxing forth a response L wasn't entirely aware that he could give.

His grip tightens again on the wardrobe door, the cold edge of the mirror digging into his palms. Light takes another step closer and L can feel his arousal against the small of his back. L lets out another one of those despicable noises, something like a whimper.

"Don't fight it," Light murmurs. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're safe here."

Safe?? How can you call this safe? His member has now become completely erect under Light's hands and he begins stroking more firmly, occasionally using his thumb to stimulate the head. L is really trying in earnest not to make any noise but it's becoming harder and harder….

The hand that had been on his chest, rubbing and lightly tweaking his nipples, moves up to his chin, lifting his face. Two fingers brush along his lower lip, drawing it out from between his teeth where he has it mildly clenched. The fingers take the place of his lip, pushing gently but insistently inside, opening his mouth. L's breathing is entirely audible now, but he still keeps down the moans and groans that want to break forth.

"Let it out," Light presses. "Let me hear you. I want to hear your voice." L tamps down on the urge to comply for as long as he can but the feeling building in him from the friction of Light's hand is too much and tiny gasps and moans begin to spill from his mouth around Light's fingers. Light is now rubbing himself against L's back and the cleft between his cheeks and again L wants to pull away – but he hasn't been able to up to this point and even this unwanted contact is not enough to make it happen.

He can hear Light's breath becoming heavier and quicker, starting to match his own rhythm as he continues to increase the pace of his stroking.

"Open … your eyes," Light whispers in his ear. "Look at yourself." Even more than anything so far, L doesn't want to do this … but of course he does and the vision draws a startled gasp from him.

That's not me. I don't know that person. That's not me. L has never seen anyone looking like the person he now sees in the mirror, and certainly never himself. He looks … debauched. His face is flushed, his eyes heavily-lidded. His lips glisten with excess saliva as he pants around Light's fingers. Though his hair is never exactly orderly, at the moment it appears even more disheveled than usual. He is quivering and bobbing ever-so-slightly with Light's movements and his own restrained thrusts.

And though he hates this foreign vision of himself, somehow it makes the feeling, the whole event, that much more intense. And Light's eyes…. He hates this even more but the look in Light's eyes acts like an accelerant on the fire centered in his groin. Everything tightens unbearably and then releases with explosive force and he cries out. Behind him, he is dimly aware that Light has increased his rutting – he stiffens with a groan and something warm hits L's back.

They simply breathe for a few moments, L's head back down, Light's resting between his shoulder blades, his arms wrapped lightly around L's waist (there is a stickiness on his hip now).

"Light." It's softly spoken, bewildered, maybe even lost.

"I know," Light answers, his lips against the scar. Then he bends down and picks up the discarded towel, carefully wiping L off. When he is done, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and gently tugs L away from the wardrobe, pulling him toward the bed. "Come on. Let's go to sleep."

L climbs onto the bed and slips under the covers silently, curling onto his side, facing away from Light. He twitches a little but says nothing when Light takes his wrist to refasten the handcuff. Light flicks off the lights and then slides into bed as well, attaching his half of the chain.

L stares blindly into the dark, his mind attempting to work it all out but getting nowhere at all. I was going to work tonight is all he thinks. He twitches again when fingers brush his back along the scar.

"Just go to sleep, Ryuuzaki. It'll all be alright."

How could it be? But that voice inside him has gotten very quiet now and L finds himself indeed slipping away into unconsciousness, suddenly exhausted. One thing, though, buries its way into his thoughts before they leave him for the night.

He knows Light is going to do it again. And L is going to let him.

AN: L here very much puts me in mind of some of the birds I raise. 'Specially this particular Amazon we have right now (whom I call "Chou"). He loves me and loves to snuggle and be pet but damned if he doesn't have to raise a fuss about it.

Next one will likely be "Scent." Mata, ne!

24 Oct. '08