Once again, I do not own Death Note.
He reclined on his bed watching as Misa stood naked in front of their mirror and admired herself from all angles. They had just finished another unsatisfying session of lovemaking that had Light faking orgasm while Misa squealed happily underneath him. Again. Sighing in disgust Light flipped onto his side and slid his hand into his pants, stroking his neglected member soothingly. Deciding to abandon the hopeless task of deriving at least an iota of pleasure with Misa in the vicinity, he instead brooded on L's death. Murder. Guilt began to stir inside Light before he could quash it.
Lately he had felt his resolve wavering about being God of the New World. This troubled him greatly as he should be the undisputed leader of his Utopia, and that meant no one questioned him, least of all himself. He had thought that he would have been happy with the eccentric detective out of the picture, and he had been. Until he realised, with a sinking feeling, that he had liked detective had once claimed that Light was his first friend, and only after he had died at his hand did Light realise that it was the same for him.
...
Misa served him a dinner of meat that tasted like sweetened rotting flesh. He barely suppressed the urge to vomit in his mouth as an image of L's dead body, with the sinewy strands of his malnourished complexion dangling hypnotically from the jutting skeleton; dancing a grotesque dance with the wafting stench of decomposition that he wore like the finest perfume, being led and manipulated, much like their own dance within the bonds of the mortal realm.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he brushed past Rem and out onto the balcony. Ignoring Misa's inane worryings he lit a cigarette and inhaled, watching in fascination as the smoke wafted up and around him, twirling into the heavens; where the World's Greatest Detective supposedly resided. Light knew that was not true, that L had been a caricature of himself, and that he was now burning in the pits of Hell, tormented by all those that Light had put there. Grinning to himself, Light tucked a strand of hair behind his air, releasing the smoke through his nose, relishing the slight burn in his olfactory passages.
Sighing to himself he finished the cigarette, flicking the butt onto the street below, narrowly avoiding the homeless man who looked up at him with sickening devotion. Light truly hated these idiots, he had realised this early on in life. Now that the world knew who Kira was, and that the power he had was absolute and omnipotent, they all devoted their lives to him.
He had thought that was what he had wanted, but the monotony of life without crime was beginning to rot a part of his brain that could not be soothed by mere intellectual stimulation. It was the part of his brain that had led him to courting Takeda, and once that had failed, settling for Misa; after convincing him to pick up the damned notebook.
...
Casting a filthy look at said notebook laying almost innocently on the counter, Light reentered the kitchen, apologizing for his inexcusable rudeness, and giving Misa a chaste kiss on the forehead. Behind him the television blared obnoxiously about some overhyped breakout surrounding a supposedly impenetrable prison, warning everyone to take care.
Rolling his eyes at the paranoia, and desperately needing to silence Misa's nattering about her latest photo shoot, he reached under the table, and placed his hand on her knee. A wide, lopsided smirk spread across his face, much like oil on top of water, as an attempt to hide the disgust he was feeling, letting his hand slide higher up her skirt. Reaching the hem of her panties, he dipped his fingers under and tugged, feeling some of the fabric give as Misa's words came out stuttered and disjointed, eyelids fluttering as her blush spread to her chest.
Removing his now slickened fingers with a wet pop, he winked at her and quirked an eyebrow, cocking his head in the direction of the bedroom. Nodding jerkily, Misa gasped as he slid out of his seat, picking her up and carrying her down the hall to their room. Depositing her on the bed, he undid the buttons on his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders, and crawling on the bed towards her.
Misa's eyes closed as he pressed his lips against hers, hard, fingers sliding up her sides to reach a bra that was undone with almost clinical precision. She moaned into his mouth as he fondled her breasts, thumb brushing nipple, as Light stared wistfully out the window, to the street below.
Alright. I am sure you hate reading these as much as I hate writing them. But here we are, an authors note. The reasons for this horrendously long delay are too inumerable and personal to disgress, even on the anonymous nature of the internet. Note the sarcasm. Anywho, the more hindering of these are now, hopefully, behind me, which means I will be able to continue for those select few of you that are enjoying this work. I believe this is also the time that I am supposed to reveal the songs that I listened to whilst writing this. Eat Raw Meat=Blood Drool by the Editors. The prologue was inspired by They're Coming to Take Me Away by Neuroticfish. Well, I have used up enough of your time, so 'til next we meet.
