For: Bree Avalon
By: ShadedRogue
Fandom: Death Note
Flesh and Bone
The flesh above L's collar bone was pale and soft, warm to the touch beneath Light's steady hand. He could feel L shiver as he traced along the sharp line of his clavicle down to where the bone met the manubrium of his sternum. L was so thin that Light could almost trace every bone in his body and he never could quite resist listing them and the organs that lay beneath them off in his head, one by one, as his fingers brushed across the pale flesh that stretched above them. His fingers traced down, sternum, xiphoid process, costal cartilage, true ribs, false ribs, lungs, heart, and back up again to L's throat, trachea, larynx, pharynx, hyoid, epiglottis, major blood vessels, jugular, internal and external carotid – if Light hadn't been so set on becoming a police officer like his father he may have considered an occupation as a doctor.
L was a formidable opponent; smart, dangerous, and more of a threat than Light had initially expected out of someone so dark and strange. L seemed untouchable, wrapped in a shroud of mystery that made it impossible for Light to kill him with the power of the death note. L always seemed so out of reach that it often surprised Light, in moments like these alone together in their stolen moments of privacy, that when it came down to it the most brilliant detective in the world was just that – pale flesh and fragile bones, with a wet pulsing mass of organs underneath. Mortal.
His fingers traced upwards again, dancing along the skin of L's exposed throat and pausing briefly above the carotid to feel the throbbing pulse of L's heart against his fingertips. How easy it could be to end it all now the good old fashioned way – to get his hands dirty and feel the warm splash of arterial spray across his face as he carved into that paper-thin flesh and stained it red. His hands moved again, the left moving to join the right, hovering over L's windpipe – how easy it would be to squeeze that fragile structure and choke the life out of him. How intimate it would be to watch the life drain from those dark eyes once and for all, knowing that he had destroyed the only person who had the potential to shatter all that he had worked so hard to accomplish in this rotten world. L – the man without a name, the world's greatest detective – as human as the other sacks of flesh that Light had killed.
His fingers traced along L's face – mandible, ramus, maxilla, zygomatic – and as he felt L's eyes on him he lifted his own gaze to meet them. L's expression was unreadable but Light could see the cogs turning in his brain analyzing and translating his every move, making calculations and readjustments of how certain he was that Light was Kira.
Even as L shifted and pulled him closer, Light had a feeling that L knew what dark place his thoughts had strayed to, could feel it in the almost imperceptible tenseness that had crept into L's muscles. Light also knew that L could only sense those thoughts as a feeling deep in his gut – very much the same way that L knew in his gut that Light was Kira, but could never hold on to something more substantial than that to prove it. L's instincts were very good, and yet, somehow, those instincts never seemed to get in the way of their clandestine affair, as L, still tense, reached up and brushed a stray hair out of Light's face.
Light smiled, a small thing that curved around the edges. He could kill L so very easily, but, he thought, as he bent down and pressed his lips to L's, what would be the fun in that?
