A/N: … and for once, I have absolutely nothing to say xD plot resumes next chapter.
--
You think it's only fair to do what's best for you and you alone
I think it's time to make this something that is more than fair
- Barenaked Ladies
vi.
"What have you got against Kira, anyway?" Misa asks him one evening, over tea.
--
The time has come, and so many things are about to happen as the clock strikes 3AM.
L has been dreading and anticipating it in waves, and the impending threat of it has left him nauseated and vaguely uneasy as the night wears on to the hours of early morning. His face remains impassive as he finishes up a report on his computer, but within the confines of his mind there is a hurricane, a violent storm of mingled emotions, thoughts, perceptions.
He hears the deep resonating gongs of the antique long case clock in the hall. Just as it finishes sounding the hour, L hears a knock at his door. He taps out a few commands into the keyboard of his computer, overriding the surveillance cameras currently offering live feed into his bedroom. Apparently satisfied, he closes his laptop and puts it on the floor, then curls his toes along the edge of it and pushes it far under the recesses of the bed.
"Come in," he says, and Misa enters.
--
"Are you afraid he's going to put you out of a job, Ryuuzaki-san?" There is a hint of laughing her voice; she is mocking him.
"I will never be out of a job," L answers, as he drops four white sugar cubes into his cup, and then three brown ones. He stirs it with a tiny silver spoon before bringing the pale, delicate china to his lips. "As long as Kira remains at large."
--
Misa is in her bra and panties, half-straddling his lap as she kisses him. The blonde makes wanting little noises against his lips as her hands slide through the dark tresses of his hair, seizing handfuls of ebony colored strands and twisting them around her knuckles. L takes the tugging as his scalp as an indication that he should immerse himself in the matter at hand more fully and finally makes his move as an active participant in their approaching copulation.
The detective's traces the back of hand down along her cheek, chin, and then along the elegant curve of her neck, the pale flesh of her shoulder. She shivers as she pulls herself free from him, leaning back on her palms and arching her back, giving him more to explore. She regards him with a sultry, heavy-lidded stare and L slowly retracts his hand.
L is chewing the fingernail on his left thumb as he sits on his knees, balanced precariously along the edge of the bed while he studies her. His eyes are searching and calculating, as though internally considering his next move. She takes his hand and gently steers it away from his mouth. "No," she says firmly, her eyes flashing in a way that is almost dangerous. "Don't stop and think about it, just do it. Misa wants more."
--
"What Kira is trying to accomplish here isn't all different from what you're trying to accomplish, you know," Misa tries.
"Then perhaps if Kira should like to make the world a better place, he should work things from my angle," L answers sleekly, taking another sip. "If he wants so desperately to make a difference, perhaps he should try being a humanitarian, or a detective, or a prosecutor. Don't allow yourself to be deceived by his false pretenses, Misa: his goal here is not altruistic; he does not simply want to right wrongs. He wants to be a God. And that motivation alone makes him unworthy of the right to play judge, jury, and executioner."
--
When his hands reach up between her legs and feel the warmth radiating from underneath her panties, Misa's breath noticeably hitches. Her eyes flutter closed as she has to try to find a lower, more tolerable key.
Their foreheads rest against one another as he leans in and kisses her again. Their tongues intertwine and Misa's legs spread further apart, offering herself to him. She moans something unintelligible into his mouth as his hands finally seize the hem of her undergarments and pull them down. Her mound is hot to the touch and there is a line of soft, downy hair leading to her center. L runs his finger down the length of it before gently pushing two fingers into her slick, waiting heat.
Suddenly her hands are at the zipper of his pants.
"Ryuuzaki." Her voice is different, huskier. "Please."
--
"The current legal system is flawed," Misa argues. "It is built on lies, money and arrogance." She stares hard at L as she emphasizes the last word, giving the Greatest Detective in the World a highly significant look as she does so. "Kira has taken it upon himself to make the world a better place, and who can blame him? Everywhere you turn there is another killer going free, another rapist who isn't getting convicted. And then there are inmates who are on Death Row for years, and people who make a confession in trade for a life sentence instead of the chair! Where is the justice in that?"
Sometime during her speech Misa has rose out of her chair in a passion. Her hands are planted firmly on the coffee table in front of her, her face flushed, her chest literally heaving from the effort of her outburst. Across from her Ryuuzaki remains nonplused, completely unmoved by her performance.
"Ask not whom the gavel pounds, Kira," L answers, pouring himself another cup of tea. "As it pounds for thee."
--
Misa's hands remain at the button of his pants as their eyes lock. At first, no one says anything, and a look crosses Misa's face: a look of muddled confusion, along with what appears to be fear and panic. She's afraid he's going to reject her, he realizes.
"Misa," L says, after what probably seems like an eternity to the younger girl. His voice sounds strange to himself, somehow also different. "I want to taste you."
For a moment her eyes search his face, as though uncomprehending. Then she blushes.
"O-okay," she says, in a shaky voice.
--
"So he's a vigilante," Misa persists. "He works behind the scenes. He knows what he's doing is wrong. But he is making a difference. So shouldn't we give him credit where it's due?"
L reaches to pour himself yet another cup, only to find that the kettle is empty. He sits his cup gently down on the table with a sigh. "Misa is adamant in her beliefs," he says, almost as if she isn't sitting right there beside him. "She is dedicated, she is loyal, she is grateful and she is passionate. Kira is very lucky to have someone like her on his side; a person who possesses such conviction." He pauses. "Even I must agree that Misa's implacability is laudable; indeed, it is those very traits in Misa that I personally find the most compelling of all."
Misa blinks at him, surprised by his unexpected praise.
"...A shame that it is these same qualities in Misa that are most likely to kill me," he finishes wistfully.
--
The muscles in Misa's legs tense as L settles himself between her thighs. Suddenly she is a bundled, coiled knot of muscle before him, and curiously L wonders if she's as new to this as he is. She smells faintly of musk and girl-sweat up close, a decidedly different smell but not so unusual in its unfamiliarity that it creates an aversion for L. He closes his eyes as he leans in and draws his first taste from her glistening wetness. Misa shudders as they make contact. Then she moans.
L is an intuitive learner, and apparently the key to pleasing a woman is approaching the matter much like you would a lollipop. A few minutes in, and he's a natural. (Suddenly, all that time spent previously indulging in sweets, day-in and day-out, gained significance: they served as practice for a functional use later on, in the stifling heat of the bedroom.) Misa sighs and runs her hands through his hair, her hips undulating slightly against his administrations.
L inhales the intoxicating scent of her, probes deeper. His teeth gently graze a tiny, quivering bud and Misa's muscles jump as a response. L takes that as a good sign, and does it again. And again.
It's only a matter of time before Misa's breathing becomes more irregular, her movements more erratic. She must be close, L thinks, and the thought is very stimulating to him. She's actually pulling his hair now, yanking it up like reins and it stings but still L persists.
"R-ryuuzaki..." she gasps out. "I..."
L decides to experiment a little. He takes the tiny nub between his teeth and tugs lightly. Misa's response is more extravagant than he initially expects: her entire body seizes up, legs clenching tightly around his face. Then it's over.
Misa collapses back against the comforters as L slowly eases away from her. He is as just as dazed as she is as he gets up onto his knees, crawls onto the bed beside him. Misa is trembling in the aftermath of her orgasm, her eyes glassy and holding a slightly far-away look. L's pants are uncomfortably tight in the front, and if he wonders if it would impolite to ask that she reciprocate, or if he should simply take care of the matter himself later, after she's went--
--Then his phone rings. L looks up an analog clock on the wall. 3:45.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, moving to stand. "I need to take this call." Misa watches him curiously as he flips open the phone and presses it to his ear. "Hello?"
The conversation is brief. When he hangs up Misa yawns, spreads out luxuriously on the bedspread.
"Who was that?" she inquires airily, although it's clear by her tone she doesn't expect an actual answer.
"Interpol," L responds, and Misa blinks at him. "They're just finished testing the thirteen day rule."
"...And?" she asks tentatively, after a moment.
As if you don't already know, L thinks, and simply shakes his head.
end part two