Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
A/N: Shorter chapter but posting speed is high (since nano) so that should be ok? There wasn't a great place to cut this chapter from the next.
ALSO. In January I will be doing a personal mini nanowrimo with the goal of twenty thousand words in a month. Meaning, I should finish writing K in January. Posting speed may dip as I frantically write, and then pick up speed again in February. I have everything that will happen for the rest of the fic in a detailed outline.
Time passed and things changed.
Some things didn't. Other than being fifteen, now, Light hadn't changed very much. He looked like a fifteen-year-old should look except, in his humble opinion, he'd skipped the awkward teenaged boy phase and moved right on to his stunningly attractive man phase. His grades were good: he was still effectively tied with L. Mr. Wammy still hadn't put them back on the case, or in fact mentioned it at all or given them any way to look into N's death. Also, Light was still dating J. He had developed the ability to kiss her without flinching though sleeping with her still hadn't happened and he knew for certain that if it was sleep with her or have his plans foiled, he still wouldn't be able to do it. He still thought she was incredibly boring. There were no new students, no new books, no new classes, and still no return of Wammy. He was around but almost… disinterested.
Everyone in the House still thought Light was amazing. He still lived with L.
L.
Some things did change.
L was one of them. The period of time had been good to him, though Light couldn't exactly put his finger on how. L had always been tall and gangly: he still was. He'd always been thin and firm: he still was. He was wearing the same clothes and eating the same food and sitting the same way. Light thought maybe he'd gained weight or muscle or something, because it definitely wasn't that he was somehow more elegant, lither. It wasn't that he was somehow quieter, always watching and seeing everything. It wasn't the way L looked at him, like he saw right through him and loved doing it. Confident. Smug.
Those things couldn't have all happened in just a few months. People couldn't change that much in less than a year. In fact, people changed so little within the span of a year that if Light was actually noticing the changing, it meant that he had to be really watching, and Light certainly had not been watching that closely.
Well, okay. He was.
In fact, he was pretty sure that wherever he went, his eyes were on L, and at least once a week he'd find L's eyes on him, too. Sometimes it was in their bedroom. Sometimes it was in a hall. Once, Lord have mercy, it had been in the library, and Light had looked up to find L looking at him.
Sometimes, it went beyond looking. Light would do the looking up or L would do the looking up and then the other would be on him, and then everything would be hands and lips and teeth, and then someone would pull away and the other would try not to beg.
More than once, Light had almost given in. Sometimes L would be on him just right, moving against him, and then just stand and back away, and Light would reach out and nearly demand that L come back and finish the job. A few times he'd been almost certain that he'd almost done in The Great and Powerful L Himself. He'd slipped up L's shirt and kissed every single inch of L's chest, sides, and stomach, not stopping until L was trembling. Then stopping.
L had actually whined when Light had pushed away from him, but he hadn't asked him to come back and that was the key. Until one of them begged, it was just this.
Stalemate.
In related news, Light hated stalemates and really, really wished one of them was less stubborn because the way L had been gasping that one time…
Basically, Light had spent the last months of his life incredibly sexually frustrated, half the time because of L and half the time because of his own stupidity.
He also met L in the library most nights. It was never planned and they certainly never discussed a schedule, but it was rare that one of them would show up and the other wouldn't. Those times were less sexually frustrating but no less… like…
Well, sometimes they would talk and sometimes they wouldn't, but every time Light left the library he felt electrified, like the descriptions he'd read about what it felt like the moment before a person got struck by lightning.
Singed.
He supposed he was cheating on J, but it hadn't even occurred to him for the first two months, at which point it hadn't bothered him. It wasn't like he and L were dating; it was just physical. And a competition, just like it had always been. Really, it would be stranger if he and L stopped doing everything they were doing.
Besides, the parts that J knew she didn't seem to mind. She was perfectly aware that they met up, hung out, talked, stared at each other, competed.
She didn't know that they also made out and touched each other, but she wouldn't find out about that and if she ever did, Light assumed he'd be able to spin the story on the spot, make himself look innocent somehow.
He could just let her dump him if that happened, but the thing was, he liked dating J. She was nice, and sweet, and any time she wasn't studying animal anatomy (she was now memorizing the name, action, origin, and insertion of all four thousand muscles in a caterpillar) or talking to her friends or gossiping, she was walking around, admiring Light and trying to help him. Generally her help got in the way but it was nice of her to try.
So, he did want to continue dating J, because it was nice to have a slave.
Also, it drove L fucking crazy.
He'd spent the last months parading J in front of him, and it was hilarious because he never seemed to get used to it. It reliably drove him up the wall, and when Light would appear in their room that night L would always, always jump him.
He'd done that today, and now he was in his room, on his bed, waiting.
Sitting on his bed alone knowing L would be there late was more interesting than making out with J and cupping her breasts. It was just, when L was pissed it was so amazing. He would come into the room, all but throw open the door, lock it behind him, and then walk directly at Light. Usually there was no explanation and no speech. L would cross to Light's bed, push him down, climb onto him, and then do… something.
It varied. That was the best part. L was endlessly creative, and they weren't even actually going all the way. His options were limited and yet it was always different: Light couldn't imagine but often attempted to what it would be like when (if?) one of them ever gave in.
Worse, L always had a way of convincing Light that this was the time: that this time they wouldn't stop. L wouldn't pull away. Light wouldn't have to beg. L would just take off Light's clothes and lay into him or maybe ride him, and finally this idiocy would be over and they could just fuck properly already.
The door opened. Light caught his breath, trying not to lean forward or look too eager. Here it was.
L came in. He closed the door behind him. He walked into the room…
And bee-lined for his own bed.
Light stared, affronted. What was this? What was this? Where were the frantic, furious kisses, the mauling, the fumbling? Why was his whole world not black hair, white skin, and endless eyes right now? Why was L on his own bed?
He watched him. L was not looking at him. Why wasn't L looking at him?
If he asked, would that count as begging? He was pretty sure asking L to come kiss him would count as giving in. That was a problem because he wanted to make out (he'd spent time with J to earn it, dammit!) but he didn't want to lose.
Instead, Light stood up. He could just jump L himself. He marched over to him, indigence probably rolling off him in waves but too indignant to notice at the moment. He sat down hard on L's bed, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and pulled him into him.
