A/N: OK, this is a little idea that popped into my head one day, begging to be written for the sake of all those out there who enjoy S&M. So, you're welcome, folks.
Warning: This story includes self-mutilation, sexual themes, and yaoi. If you are weak-minded/ and or are not into those things, do not read!
The room was filled with an uncomforting silence. The large space surrounding L had been emptied of people, those being the entire task force. He couldn't understand why they all wanted to leave, and for so long. And, not that L cared, but, he realized they weren't just simply going out for a smoke, or to get fresh air… they wanted to get as far away from L as possible. But it all somehow made sense, seeing as L was only the definition of a creeper, but a sexy one at that. The idea pleased him. He knew that. That last thought entered L's mind like it was the popped, liquidy remains of a bubble that'd been given a second chance and thus sprung into life. He smirked. The idea of being alone for a while wasn't that bad, in fact, L liked it. There was only one way to celebrate.
Cake.
He glanced down in front of the couch he was crouched upon to behold the miracle he'd forgotten was there. It rested delicately on a porcelain dish with a small silver spoon to match. L tried not to giggle as he reached for it hastily. Here it comes… here it comes…
(Shatter)
L had somehow managed to slide the treat off of the coffee table and onto the hardwood floor. He stared awe-struck at the dead and broken remains of what was to be the best part of his day; week, maybe. In anguish, he slid himself off of the couch and down next to the splattered cake, eyes wide with terror. How could I?! With a sigh, he began picking up the cake's porcelain skeleton, placing its bones in his palm.
He felt a small prick. Quickly averting his forlorn gaze to his hand, he witnessed a single drop of blood run down his pale wrist. The only strange thing was, he didn't feel the slightest bit of pain.
"That's odd…" he mumbled, wiping the blood with his finger. Maybe his hand had gone numb? He poked it with the same finger. Nope.
He placed his bleeding palm in his mouth, sucking on the salty liquid it produced. Out of curiosity, he picked up another piece of the broken plate with the opposite hand. Gently, he poked his bleeding palm. Another prick, but no pain. He continued pressing the broken plate into his pale skin, creating a dent. Without realizing it, he'd cut himself deeper than the first time and began to stare, amazed at the scene unfolding.
If L wasn't mistaken, he was almost certain that it felt… well… good. He dared to try it again, once more pressing the remains of the plate into his palm. This time, the cut was deeper, and formed a lush crimson bubble that when finally released gave L a hard shiver down his spine. He could not, for the life of him, understand why he liked doing this so much. Was he dreaming? Were his nerves dead in that hand? He wondered, long and hard about this matter. Why was this happening now?
Curiosity came flooding into him. He needed to explore this matter further. He couldn't remember the last time he had been cut like that… or as bad. Had this strange behavior been developed, he would have certainly noticed it. There was no doubt about that. Without thinking, he decided to take his experimentation to the next level.
Reaching into Aizawa's coat pocket, which he'd left sprawled over one of the cushioned chairs, he retrieved a simple red lighter. L knew the man was a smoker.
Flipping open the metal contraption, he'd made a small, luminous flame. He stared, wide-eyed at the spectacle.
He moved the lighter next to his already wounded hand. Nerves crept up on him, forcing him to start shaking as small drop of perspiration snaked down his temple. All his fingers curled except for his lone, shaky, index. The flame slowly met with the subject, L continuing to stare, anxiousness controlling him. As the feeling of the fire on his skin began to settle, L panicked slightly. What was he going to feel?
Then, as beautifully slow as a drop of color in still water, the feeling came. It wasn't bad; it wasn't painful. It was stimulating. It was exciting. It was arousing.
L couldn't bring himself to move the lighter. He wanted more. He needed more. Although those thoughts seemed exhilarating, he realized that if he continued, he could do some serious damage.
He finally pried it away from his finger, on which a small, red blister had formed. It throbbed with the same feeling he felt before. L felt blood rise to his cheeks. He felt as if he was pleasuring him self but in a different way. But he knew what it meant. He was a masochist, and it felt amazing. He had to have more.
Shoving the lighter back into the coat pocket, he searched the room for more instruments of torture. He rummaged through drawers, cabinets and shelves. He even got down on his knees and peeked under the furniture. Miraculously, he found them: a small, shiny pair of scissors. They were beautiful.
He plopped back onto his same sunken spot on the couch, not taking his tired eyes off the scissors. Without hesitation, he brought them up to the same bloodied palm as before, pressing one of the tips into his flesh. This time, he made a straight line with the metal blade, causing small beads of blood to rise above the skin. He tried to fight back his short, uneven breaths, but he just couldn't resist giving into every emotion.
His cheeks flushed with red hot warmth as the helpless nerves in his hand sent a feeling of ecstasy down his arm and throughout the rest of his body. His soft eyelids fluttered closed and tensed up at the sensation.
He was torturing himself, and he loved it.
------
Light sauntered down the hotel's dimly lit hallway. He had been feeling irritable beforehand, yet the rage still lingered inside him. He felt the incessant urge to kick something, or just hit something… anything, violently. He knew he had this issue, this sadist issue… he just wasn't going to tell anyone. He knew if he lashed out at times (a normal occurrence in Light's private life) in front of them, the suspicion would only grow. As he reached the door, he took a moment to calm himself. The cold doorknob came as a shocking reminder that he was returning to headquarters.
Walking in with the weight of his problems upon him was easy compared to what he saw. There was Ryuzaki… L… the L… hunched over on the floor… cutting himself. Light was speechless.
L turned suddenly, dropping the scissors onto the floor, breaking the awkward silence. "Light… I… It's…" L spouted nervously, clutching his wounded hand.
Light couldn't believe what he was seeing. A broken dish… scissors… Ryuzaki clutching a bleeding hand… what the fuck?
"What the hell?!" He blurted out. "Wha-what…"
L, within a period of about 5 or so seconds, felt like if he was anymore excruciatingly nervous, he would explode. Not that he would have minded. "I… I…" he kept on stuttering.
The younger of the two sprang into action, rushing to L's side, removing the injured hand from his clutch. As he thoroughly inspected it, the situation grew stranger.
"You cut yourself? With a broken dish…" he looked around on the floor. "… scissors… and you even burnt your finger?!" Light couldn't help but not be worried, even though he masked this feeling with concern. He enjoyed it when other people were hurt, after all.
"Well… I… the cake fell, so I tried to-" The onyx-haired man could only say so much before the other interrupted him.
Light's mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. He glanced at the bloody hand, and back at L again. He realized it.
"You're a masochist, aren't you, Ryuzaki?" He asked, a certain gleam in his amber eyes.
L blushed wildly, avoiding eye contact with Light. Light knew the other wanted to hide it, but it was just too obvious for him to see past. Too obvious for anyone.
"You enjoy this." He continued, smiling now. "You sick bastard…"
As he was speaking, he retrieved the scissors without L's notice. As Light's grip on L's hand grew stronger, the older man's breaths grew heavier and louder. Light, of course, was doing it intentionally, just to watch the other man squirm and fuel his own twisted pleasure. He then revealed the scissors to L, opening them sharply. He placed the edge of the blade next to where the previous cut had been. L was terrified. Terrified that Light would take it too far.
Then, Light, with heart-pounding speed, sliced L's palm. The cut wasn't deep (enough, from Light's point of view), but just enough to frighten him.
L's reaction was anything but ordinary. A series of short, hard breaths were followed by a soft moan, causing L to cover his mouth in embarrassment. He snatched his hand back almost immediately.
"Why did you do that?!" He spoke, pretending to be mad. The blood from his hand now stained his shirt sleeve.
Light, continuing with his evil plan, took the scissors into his mouth and licked the blood clean off. His eyes pierced L's, the masochist's heart beating furiously in reaction.
"Because…" he said, removing the metal object. "I enjoy it."
A million thoughts were pouring into L's mind. Light was a sadist… he was a sick freak… he enjoyed watching this. The chance of Light actually being Kira had risen dramatically. Only someone with this mindset could kill without the slightest taste of remorse. He wanted to hurt L.
Who was he kidding? He wanted it just as much as Light did.
Perfect… Light thought, sick as usual.
L was shocked and terrified, not only at Light's actions, but at himself for giving into the temptation. The sides of his face were caked with the salty residue of his sweat. He breathed each breath with nervousness. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. L knew what Light was doing, he was trying to get him to admit it… through torture.
"Say it." Light snapped.
L's hand was shaking. "Say what?" he responded, speaking through pure instinct.
Light leaned towards L almost closing the distance between them.
"Say that you want it." He whispered.
He grasped L's bloody hand once more, and pressed the tip of the scissors' blade into one of the open wounds.
"Ah…!" The older man winced as he felt the pressure. The slight sting of the blade quickly turned into the arousing drug he had learned to love.
"Say it." Light whispered into the other man's ear, cutting him deeper with the scissors.
"Ahh!" L moaned, shutting his eyes tight, and turning his face away from the scene. "I…"
Light continued the same business with the blade, as he hungrily watched L fill with pleasure. L grabbed Light's shirt with his good hand.
"I want it." He said.
He left his mouth hanging ever so open on those three simple words. What have I done?!
Light's daring smirk widened. He removed the scissors from against L's palm and threw him upon the couch. The elder's back arched upon contact, resulting in a very sexual position. He didn't move. He couldn't move. He needed to know what this felt like.
Without a word, Light slowly leaned over L, hovering, breathing onto his cold skin. No words needed to be said; Light knew L was dying for this. He knew, even now, there was no way he could stop.
L's lip trembled upon receiving an icy glare from the man atop him. His eyes shut closed for a moment, then sprang open, only to be pushed down again by his naked brow.
L remembered this moment as suspended in time, as if they were hanging by a thread, the distance between them blocked off by some unseen force. The re-exposure of his sense of sight severed the ever-tightening tension.
"What are you going to do…?" L mumbled weakly. He shivered, watching Light lift his head so that his intense glare could be seen.
No reply was needed to express the details of the actions about to unfold. Light brought his index finger up to the older one's mouth.
"I always thought you were so cute… it's too bad I have to destroy that image." He said, gently toying with his lip. He pulled on it, pinching it, before letting go.
L was none but utterly surprised when Light removed his finger, and replaced it with his own lips. Is he kissing me? Why? He thought. Light realized this meant the thought of a romantic interaction between the two of them, but he didn't care. L didn't know what he was planning, so his sly move would be justified.
He nibbled on the tender skin. He licked it; he sucked on it, all with a gentleness he rarely expressed. L's heart was pumping rapidly, churning up the blood that would rise to his head, and color his cheeks with lust. His eyes fluttered closed as his last relaxed breath escaped him and brought warmth upon Light's lips.
The gleam in Light's eyes flashed again, as he smirked, a smirk which L could feel.
Light bit down intensely, cutting L's lip deeper than it's ever been cut.
"Ahh!!" L yelped, turning his head away from Light. He touched his lip, feeling the blood that had been freed. Sucking on it like a child, he was in ecstasy.
After a moment, Light spoke softly. "You love it." He sneered.
"Stop…" L stopped for a short breath. He fought his urge to taste his own blood back before turning to look at Light.
L was a great liar, but Light was better. Light saw right through the deceit. He could see all the emotions the other had inside him. Light was being taken over by his sadist feelings.
Light reached both of his hands under L's bloodstained shirt and lifted it, until his hands reached L's broad shoulders. He heard a gasp escape L's lips as the cold air raced through him.
"L…" Light whispered menacingly, pressing each of his outstretched fingers into L's skin. He pressed deeper, and deeper, until his nails were digging into him.
L grabbed Lights wrists, squeezing them, trying to pry them off his body. He shut his eyes tight, mustering up the strength to stop him, but his efforts were useless. The pain of Light's nails pleased him; however, his unwinding disguise was keeping his dignity in at least a little control. He felt the need to scream, to moan, to beg for more, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. It was between giving into temptation and showing Light his weakness, even though he was over ninety percent certain that Light was Kira, or fighting back for the cause of justice.
With what felt like more force than he could ever exert again in his life, he hurled Light Yagami dramatically into the open air, causing him to collide, full-weight, onto the wooden coffee table, splitting it in half. The sound shattered the echoing silence that enveloped them.
Light lay still for a few seconds, just enough for the other to scramble away from the couch. He saw Light's body turn towards him, stiff, and vengeful. "L…" he breathed. His eyes, full of anger, met with L's, almost sending him into a state of shock.
This is bad. L knew he couldn't give in, but this was quite a setback.
"L!" Light shouted. "COME BACK HERE!"
L backed away, hunched over, clutching his injured hand, his sugar-fueled heart about to rip out of his chest.
"No…!" L whispered to himself. Secretly, he wanted Light to just catch him.
As Light stormed closer to L, he cornered him against a wall, overpowering him with his presence.
"Wait!" L spouted, trying to push him back with his hands, including the bad one, which left a blood smear on Light's shirt. "Stop…!"
Light was too strong to be held back, and too sly to let L notice that he picked up the pair of scissors on the way over.
He was angry; too angry.
"I'm gonna make you bleed, L…" He hissed.
Painfully straightening L's back against the wall, he grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled it down to reveal his collarbone. The pale, soft skin tempted him in more ways than one. He flung the scissors open, holding up one of the blades.
The sweet painful sensation L was about to feel enticed him. He licked his cut lip, waiting for it.
Light pressed the tip of the blade into L's flesh near his shoulder, and made a long yet shallow cut to the other side of the bone.
"Fuck!" L shouted, mistakenly, his eyes shut tight with pleasure. He immediately shot them open only to see Light's cruel smirk once again. He began to laugh.
"Mhmhm… hahaha! I knew it…" he raised an eyebrow.
L didn't know how to respond. His eyes were half shut, his mouth ajar, and his breaths short. As a new wave of blood rushed to his face, he turned his head away from Light, and discontinued his efforts to push the other man back. He'd given up.
"Mmm…" He moaned, as a drop of blood meandered down his collar. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor.
"Light…" He said, reaching for his shirt. "I can't take it."
Light lowered himself to the floor, eye to eye with L. He gripped the scissors with intensity. Just the sight of L in this condition made his pants tighten.
"Don't stop…" he continued.
The younger of the two was in definite ecstasy. He wanted this so bad; he needed it. To take out his rage on another was so pleasurable to him, especially since that person was indeed a masochist. With awe-inspiring glory, he slowly raised the silver scissors into the air above L.
Click went the door as it creaked open, allowing Aizawa, Matsuda, Mogi, and Ide to pass through it. As soon as they entered the room, they were quick to spot the two against the wall.
Collective gasps were heard.
"He- he's attacking Ryuzaki!" Matsuda cried.
Without a moment of hesitation, Aizawa whipped out his gun, pointing it directly at Light as he approached him.
"Freeze, Light!" He shouted.
Light was in shock. He didn't know how to explain himself. Everyone had seen his sadistic ways and thought he was trying to murder L, which only meant one thing. He was Kira.
Before he could say a word, Aizawa had him cuffed with the help of the other task force members. Light tried to struggle his way free.
"Get off me!" He snapped, kicking and thrashing.
They bombarded him, forcing him to the couch so they could bend him over to stop his battering.
"Explain yourself!" Aizawa shouted, pointing the gun directly at Light's head.
"ENOUGH!" L cried. "Let him go!"
The others were speechless. They were utterly confused, but obeyed L's demands.
They removed the metal handcuffs from Light's wrists, as he quickly dismissed himself from the embarrassing position. He scowled at the rest of the task force.
"But, Ryuzaki, he was about to attack you. We were just defending you, for your own safety!" Matsuda explained.
L was angered. He was just about to get what he really wanted and they ruined it.
"All of you, back to work. Now."
They quietly accepted his demand, shuffling back to their duties. Aizawa shot Light a nasty look, and vice-versa.
Light, rubbing his wrists, glanced over at L.
"Yagami-kun." L spoke.
He listened.
"Let's take this to the bedroom."
In the process of writing a second chapter. Suggestions welcome. :D